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                              THE STORY OF

                                DON JOHN

                               OF AUSTRIA

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  _Photo Anderson._

  _Don John of Austria._

  _Flemish School in Prado Gallery, Madrid._
]




                              THE STORY OF

                                DON JOHN

                               OF AUSTRIA

                    TOLD BY PADRE LUIS COLOMA, S.J.
                     OF THE REAL ACADEMIA ESPAÑOLA
                       TRANSLATED BY LADY MORETON


                   LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
                      NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY
                    TORONTO: BELL & COCKBURN. MCMXII

------------------------------------------------------------------------


            WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                                PREFACE


In one of the addresses delivered at the time of Padre Coloma's
admission to the Real Academia Española there is a reference to Jeromín,
as this Story of Don John of Austria is called in Spanish, which says
that it awakes great interest in the reader by inaugurating a new type
of book, half novel and half history. This seems too true a description
of it not to be quoted here.

In his preface the author states that he does not propose to delve into
any deep problems, or to put forward unknown facts about personages
already judged at the bar of history. All the same, I think that much in
this book will be fresh to English readers, notably, perhaps, the fact
that an "auto da fe" consisted in hearing the sentences pronounced on
the prisoners of the Inquisition, not in witnessing their execution, and
that in most cases the condemned were garrotted before being burnt.

Many of the illustrations will also be new to most people. Through the
kindness of the Duke of Berwick and Alba the two pictures of the "Gran
Duque" in his palace at Madrid are reproduced with their history. I am
indebted to Colonel Coloma for the picture of Antonio Pérez and the one
of Luis Quijada, photographed specially for this book. Señor de Osma was
good enough to send me the autograph of Don John's mother, which proves
her to have been a woman of at least some education. From him, too,
comes a most interesting specimen of Don John's writing—the postscript
to the dispatch announcing the battle of Lepanto.

Of the more familiar illustrations it can surely weary no one to be
reminded of how Jeromín pictured his father to himself, or how Philip
II, "Reyna Ysovel," Prince Carlos, and others appeared to the blue eyes
of the hero of Lepanto.

I disclaim all responsibility for the views, historical or otherwise,
expressed in this book, but if I have failed to reproduce a vivid
picture of life in old Spain, it is solely the fault of my prentice
hand.

As on the walls of some tapestried chamber the author displays the Story
of Don John of Austria from his engaging childhood to his saintly death.
The light as it shines on this Prince Charming, also falls on those
great ones of his time who were his friends or foes, and on the
multitude of their servants and followers, lingering most lovingly on
beautiful Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, as it glints on the golden texture of
her unselfish life. In the woof of the background the author has woven
many homely touches, which seem to make the figures live again, and,
shaking off the dust of more than three centuries, to leave the arras as
in some Pavillon d'Armide.

Has the turning of the hangings broken the spell? As I cannot but
remember that Cervantes, shrewdest of observers, has said that
translating from one language to another is "like one looking on the
wrong side of Flemish tapestry; although the figures are seen they are
full of threads which blur them, and the smoothness and bloom of the
surface are not seen; not for this" he, however, adds encouragingly, "do
I wish to say that this exercise of translating is not praiseworthy,
because a man may spend his time in other and worse ways." Ojalá! that
any possible reader of this book may not have cause to doubt the truth
of this last axiom.

My best thanks are due to Padre Coloma for his courtesy in allowing me
to translate this work, to Colonel Coloma for the trouble he has taken
for its welfare, to Señor de Osma for all his kindness, to Doctor de
Alcázar y Polanco and Mr. Medd, and last, but not least, to my husband
for all his help.

                                                                A. M. M.




                                CONTENTS


                                        PAGE

                           BOOK I          3

                           BOOK II       105

                           BOOK III      233

                           BOOK IV       315




                             ILLUSTRATIONS


DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA

                                                          _Frontispiece_

_Sir William Stirling Maxwell describes this picture as "perhaps the
most satisfactory existing portrait on canvas as he appeared in his
prime. It is not impossible that it may be the work of Stradamus." "He
wears a small rapier, the Order of the Fleece and a steel cuirass,
slightly enriched with gold, with sleeves of chain armour, a band of red
velvet being on the right arm and a pair of trunk breeches of some dark
parti- stuff, over which is a casing of crimson perpendicular
bars (resembling velvet). That this outer covering or cage is detached
from the lining is made evident by his dagger hanging between the lining
and the cage. His hose and shoes are of light crimson, approaching to
pink ... a helmet with a blue plume."_

Flemish School. In the Prado Gallery, Madrid.


PHILIP II AS A YOUNG MAN

                                                                      12

_Born 1527. Died 1598._

_Son of the Emperor Charles V and Isabel of Portugal._

_Married_ 1. _Maria of Portugal._ 2. _Mary Tudor, Queen of England._ 3.
_Elizabeth of Valois (Isabel of the Peace)._ 4. _Anne of Austria (his
niece)._

Portrait by Titian (1477-1576) is in the Prado Gallery, Madrid.


LUIS QUIJADA, LORD OF VILLAGARCIA

                                                                      37

_Died 1570._

_Specially photographed for this book from a picture in the possession
of the Conde de Santa Coloma._

_A replica of this picture exists in Seville in the Palace of the
Marqués de la Motilla, of which Don Emilio M. de Torres y Gonzalez-Arnao
kindly sent a specially taken photograph._


EMPEROR CHARLES V. CHARLES I OF SPAIN, 1500-58.

                                                                      45

_Son of Philip the Handsome, of Burgundy, and Joan the Mad._

_Began to reign 1516. Elected Holy Roman Emperor 1519._

_Abdicated 1555. Married Isabel of Portugal._

_This portrait by Titian represents the Emperor at the battle of
Muhlberg (1546), where, an historian says, "he looked a warrior; he rode
an Andalusian horse covered with a crimson silk cloth with a gold
fringe. His armour was brilliant, the helmet and cuirass garnished with
gold. He wore the red sash with golden stripes of the general of the
house of Burgundy."_

_This armour still exists in the Royal Armoury at Madrid, and has been
reconstructed according to the portrait with the most life-like results.
The picture itself is in the Prado._


DOÑA LEONOR DE MASCAREÑAS

                                                                      81

_As governess to Philip II and his son, D. Carlos, she exercised, by
reason of her virtues and great discretion, much influence at the Court
of the Emperor Charles V, who held her in great esteem. She was also the
friend of St. Theresa, and founded the Convent of Our Lady of the Angels
in Madrid, to which she retired._

_This photograph is from the portrait by Sir Antonio More, belonging to
the Marqués de la Vega-Inclán, which until recently remained in the
Convent she had founded. The photograph is the first ever taken of the
picture, and was kindly sent by Don Emilio M. de Torres y
Gonzalez-Arnao._


INFANTA JUANA OF SPAIN

                                                                      87

_Daughter of the Emperor Charles V and Isabel of Portugal. Married D.
Juan, Prince of Portugal, and was mother of the luck-less King
Sebastian. As a widow she returned to rule Spain during the years that
Philip spent in England as husband of Queen Mary Tudor._

_Don Juan Valera says, "Beautiful and passionate as we cannot doubt her
to have been, since she inspired so ardent a devotion in the Prince her
husband that he preferred to die rather than leave her ... yet she was
so austere and shy that she never consented to show her face," and was
heavily veiled when she gave audiences. If any doubted whether they were
really addressing her, she would lift her covering, and directly her
visitor was satisfied, drop it again. Señor Valera quotes this as a
proof that none of the descendants of Joan the Mad were entirely free
from the taint of insanity._

Portrait by Sir Antonio More (1512-82) is in the Prado Gallery, Madrid.


ALEXANDER FARNESE, PRINCE OF PARMA

                                                                     109

_Died 1592, aged forty-eight._

_Son of Margaret, Duchess of Parma, half-sister to Don John, after whose
death Alexander Farnese took command of the troops in Flanders. Married
the Princess Maria of Portugal._

_The portrait in the Museo Nazionale, Naples, is ascribed to F. M.
Mazzola (called Parmigiano) (1503-40), but dates would seem to make this
impossible._


DON CARLOS, PRINCE OF THE ASTURIAS

                                                                     123

_Died 1568._

_Son of Philip II and Maria of Portugal._

Picture by Sanchez Coello (died 1590) is in Prado Gallery, Madrid.

ELIZABETH DE VALOIS. ISABEL DE LA PAZ

                                                                     141

_Died 1558, aged twenty-three._

_Daughter of Henry II of France and Catherine de Medici._

_Third wife of Philip II of Spain._

_Brantôme writes of her: "Those who saw her thus in a painted portrait
admired her, and I will leave you to guess the delight it was to see her
face to face with her sweetness and grace."_

_This picture is alluded to by Sir William Stirling Maxwell in his
"Annals of the Artists of Spain"; he says that her eyes and hair are
dark and her complexion brilliant, "The head is full of beauty and life;
the dress of black velvet, though closed at the throat, is becoming ...
a small ruff encircles the neck, and the robe is garnished with a
profusion of gold chains and jewellery, all admirably designed and
painted. Unless there be some mistake in the date of the painter's
birth, this portrait was probably copied from one by his master (Sanchez
Coello), as Queen Isabella died in 1568, when Pantoja was only seventeen
years of age."_

This portrait is by Juan Pantoja de la Cruz (1551 circa 1609), and is in
the Prado Gallery, Madrid.


DON FERNANDO ALVAREZ DE TOLEDO. 3RD DUQUE DE ALBA, CALLED THE "GRAN
DUQUE," 1507-82

                                                                     164

_Married Maria Enriquez, daughter of the Conde de Alba de Lesten.
Captain-General of the Kingdoms of Castille and Aragon, of the Spanish
troops in Italy, and of the army in Portugal. Governor of Milan and
Viceroy of Naples. Governor of Flanders. Councillor of State and War to
Charles V and Philip II, whose tutor he was. He acted as Proxy for the
King at Philip II's third and fourth marriages. Recalled from Flanders
in 1573, he fell into disgrace with Philip II, and was imprisoned in the
Castle of Uceda._ _He was liberated in order that he might pacify the
Portuguese rebellion. In 1580 he won the battles which gained this
Kingdom for Spain. He died at Lisbon._

_This portrait by Titian represents the Duke at about the age of forty.
He wears black armour wrought with gold and a red sash, and the
balustrade on which he leans is cushioned with red velvet. It may very
possibly have belonged to the Duke himself; it certainly was in the
possession of the celebrated Conde Duque de Olivares, as it was amongst
those entailed by him with the Carpio estate. With this property it
passed to the Alba family, and from thence was brought to its present
place in the Palacio de Liria in Madrid._


PORTRAIT OF THE SAME BY GULLIERMO KEY (1520-68)

                                                                     166

Painted in Flanders when the Duke was sixty-one.

_There is an improbable legend about this picture that it cost the
artist his life, from the shock of hearing the Duke let drop in Spanish
that the two Counts, Horn and Egmont, were sentenced to death._


DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA

                                                                     203

From a picture attributed to Sir Antonio More in the possession of Don
Fernande Fernandez de Velasco.


CARDINAL DE GRANVELLE

                                                                     261

_Born 1517. Died 1586._

_Antoine Perrenot. Bishop of Arras. Primate of the Netherlands._

_A well-known statesman during the reigns of Charles V and Philip II.
Chief Councillor to the Duchess of Parma when Governess of the
Netherlands. He became so unpopular that in 1564 Philip II was compelled
to advise him to retire to his estates in Burgundy. The Cardinal left
vowing that he would not cut his beard until he returned to Brussels.
Three years later he went to Rome, where he assisted in the negotiations
of the Holy League. He subsequently became Viceroy of Naples._

From his picture by Scipione Pulzone called Gaetano in Municipal Museum,
Besançon.


SEBASTIAN VENIERO. DOGE OF VENICE

                                                                     279

_Died 1578._

_Son of Moise Venier._

_Married Cecilia di Nadalin Contarini._

_After being constantly employed in many important posts at home and
abroad, including that of Procuratore di San Marco, he became General
del Mar, and commanded the left wing at the battle of Lepanto, where he
was wounded in the knee by an arrow. Padre Coloma says that he was
seventy at this time, which would place his birth in 1501. He was
elected Doge June 11, 1577, and died eight months later._

Portrait by Titian in the Prado Gallery, Madrid.

DISPATCH ANNOUNCING THE VICTORY OF LEPANTO, DATED PETALA, OCTOBER 9,
1571. POSTSCRIPT IN DON JOHN'S WRITING

                                                                     302

_There are several known copies of the dispatch, the postscripts varying
from one to two lines, according to the importance of the person
addressed. This one was almost certainly sent to the President of the
Council of Castille, Cardinal Espinosa, though, from the outer sheet
being torn, the address is wanting._

_It is in three lines_:

"_Doy a V.M. el parabien desta vitoria que Nrõ Señor ha sido servido
darnos, como a quien holgara de tan felice nueva lo es justo._"

"_I congratulate Your Grace on the victory that Our Lord has been
pleased to give us, as is due to one who will rejoice over such happy
news._"

From the collection of the Conde de Valencia de D. Juan. Photographed
specially for this book.


Postscript in D. John of Austria's writing from the collection of the
Conde de Valencia de D. Juan.

                                                                     303


PHILIP II AND HIS SON, DON FERNANDO

                                                                     309

_Sir William Stirling Maxwell says that tradition has connected this
picture with Lepanto. Philip II is represented holding up to Heaven his
short-lived son, by Anne of Austria, Don Fernando, who was born December
4, 1571, shortly after the news of the victory reached Spain. It is
stated that the picture was painted by Titian (1477-1576) "at the age of
ninety-four at least."_

It is in the Prado Gallery, Madrid.


STATUE OF DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA AT MESSINA

                                                                     319

_This statue by Andrea Calamech is still in existence (June, 1912). Sir
William Stirling Maxwell is "disposed to consider it the most
interesting and important" portrait which has come down to us. He says,
"The head, which was considered an excellent likeness, is very noble and
graceful." "Although the gilding with which it once shone resplendent
has disappeared it is still one of the most effective monuments of
sixteenth-century art."_

"_The statue stood in the small Piazza between the Palace and the Church
of Our Lady of the Pillar until 1853 when it was removed to the Piazza
of the Annunziata._"

DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA

                                                                     347

From a print sent by Colonel Coloma.


ANTONIO PÉREZ

                                                                     383

_Died 1611._

_Illegitimate son of Gonzalo Pérez._

_Married Doña Juana de Coello Bozmediano. Secretary and favourite of
Philip II. Fell into disgrace and was tried and_ _tortured in 1582.
Contrived to escape, first to Aragon, afterwards to France and England,
but was sent back to Portugal and died in Paris._

_In his exile he wrote his "Memorial" to prove his own innocence and his
master's guilt. Major Martin Hume thinks that "the moral portrait of the
King (Philip II), still current in foreign countries, owes much to the
literary talent with which Antonio Pérez presented his subtle
sophistries."_

(_Españoles é ingleses en el siglo XVI._)

The picture by Sir Antonio More is in Paris.


AUTOGRAPH OF BARBARA BLOMBERGH

                                                                     405

_Mother of Don John of Austria by the Emperor Charles V._

_Afterwards married to Jerome Kegel._

_Died 1598._

From the collection of the Conde de Valencia de D. Juan.

Photographed specially for this book.


PRINCESA DE ÉVOLI

                                                                     427

_Born 1540._

_Daughter of the Count de Melito. Married in 1553 Ruy Gomez de Silva,
afterwards Prince of Évoli, who died 1573._

_She was a great heiress, and her family accused Antonio Pérez of
squandering her fortune. There now seems little doubt that anger at the
discovery of her intrigue with him was the chief reason of the
assassination of the Secretary Escovedo._

_Philip II caused her to be arrested suddenly in 1579, and imprisoned
first in the tower of Pinto, and then exiled to her own house at
Pastrana for the rest of her life._

The picture from which the print used is taken is by Sanchez Coello, in
the possession of her descendant, the Duque de Pastrana.

PHILIP II AS AN OLD MAN

                                                                     437

"_This picture is well worthy of note, as it shows how the crowned monk
of the Escorial looked when on the brink of the grave. In Pantoja's
worn, sickly, sour old man, with lack-lustre, restless eyes, protruding
under-lip and_

                        '_pallid cheeks and ashy hue
            in which sad death his portraiture hath writ_',

                                                               (SPENSER)

_wearing a rusty sugar-loaf hat and holding in his hand a common brown
rosary, we see the last stage of the sumptuous Prince whose youthful
bearing has been made immortal by the pencil of Titian_."

                                         (SIR WILLIAM STIRLING MAXWELL.)

By Juan Pantoja de la Cruz in the Prado Gallery, Madrid.


DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA'S PLACE OF BURIAL

                                                                     471

_View of the Escorial and surrounding country. Present day._

_To quote Señor Baros, "The victory of St. Quentin was gained on the
Feast of St. Laurence and Don Philip wished to raise an edifice in
honour of the saint which should be a convent, a royal mausoleum and a
palace. When the Emperor took leave of his son he had charged him to
erect a worthy sepulchre for his own remains and those of the Empress.
The King caused the Spanish architect Juan Bautista de Toledo to come
from Naples, who designed the Escorial in the shape of a gridiron. The
first stone was laid in 1563. This superb monument was finished by Juan
de Herrera, 1584."_

These short notes are mostly culled from the works of Sir William
Stirling Maxwell, Major Martin Hume and Señor Baros. Those on the Duque
de Alba are taken from the catalogue made for the present Duke by Don
Angel de Barcia, of which a portion was specially reprinted for this
book.




                                 BOOK I




                          DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA


                               CHAPTER I


Like a flock of frightened sparrows the children of Leganés arrived that
afternoon at Ana de Medina's door, just as the bells were ringing for
vespers. Ana's son Jeromín was the first to get there, with his big blue
eyes staring and his beautiful golden hair thrown back. But there was
good cause for all this, and twenty shrill voices hastened to explain it
to Ana, who, startled, came to the door distaff in hand, and a scolding
on her lips.

There was no school in Getafe that afternoon; the sun had stricken down
Sancha Apelza, the master's wife, while working on the farm of the
Comunero, and she was to receive the last sacraments that night. The
children from Leganés were coming back to the village, playing as usual
by the way at Moors and Christians. Jeromín always insisted on this, and
never would play at Comuneros, or at being Padilla, Adelentado or Bishop
Acuña, all recent and popular heroes. He said it was enough for him to
be Jeromín and to pretend to cut off the heads of Moors. He entrenched
himself in the Canon's well as if it were a castle on a rock, and Pedro
Verde defended the orchard of Maricuernos opposite, declaring it to be
the Vega of Granada. Jeromín gave the word "Santiago," and from both
sides, like bullets from an arquebus, came lumps of soft earth. At this
inopportune moment, while the battle was raging along the road from
Madrid bordering the orchard of Maricuernos, four mules appeared,
harnessed in pairs with long traces to what seemed to be a little wooden
house, with two tiny windows and four big wheels. A man was riding the
foremost mule on the off side, and another was seated on the roof of the
house, guiding the mules with a long stick. Through one of the windows a
very fat man with grey moustaches and a pointed beard, could be seen,
sitting inside. Four well-armed horsemen and two baggage-mules escorted
the unwieldy vehicle. The children were frightened at the sight of this
extraordinary machine, such as they had never seen before, but curiosity
overcame their fear and they all grouped themselves, very silent, in the
orchard of Maricuernos to see it pass closer. The boys' terror increased
when they realised that the heavy machine was halting in front of them,
and the fat gentleman, putting his head out of window, was asking them
very politely whether the Emperor's former guitar-player, Francis Massy,
who had married Ana de Medina, a native of the village, still lived
there.

The boys began to giggle and look at each other, not daring to answer,
stir or even take off their caps as a mark of respect. The fat man
repeated the question two or three times very politely and kindly, till
at last Pedro Verde, who was eleven years old, and had been twice to
Pinto, and had seen the cavalcade of Ruy Gómez de Silva from afar, made
up his mind to answer, his mouth dry with fear and keeping his cap on,
that the musician Francisquin, as they called him, had died some years
previously, but that his widow Ana de Medina still lived there and that
her son Jeromín, was one of those present. This Pedro demonstrated by
seizing Jeromín by the neck of his doublet and pulling him forward. For
the fat man to hear this, look at Jeromín and stretch his arms out of
the window as if to seize him and drag him into the coach was only the
work of a second. But it took the children, terrified at the old man's
behaviour, even less time to scamper up the hill towards the village as
if they had legions of devils at their heels. The gentleman called to
them to stop. The escort also called out. But the children, spurred on
by fright, ran harder and harder up the hill like hunted hares, until
they stopped at the threshold of Ana de Medina where we met them.

The widow's face fell when she heard all this, and she drew Jeromín
towards her as if she wished to hide him in her woollen skirt. She asked
the boys several questions, but they all answered together, and all she
could make out was that a fat gentleman had wished to carry off Jeromín
in a little house on wheels.

Ana, worried, went back into her house and sent a message by Pedro Verde
to ask the priest to come and see her, the cleric Bautista Vela, who
served the parish for D. Alonso de Rojas, chaplain to His Majesty in the
Royal Chapel at Granada at that time. Bautista Vela tarried too long; by
the time he arrived at Ana's house he could no longer be there alone.
Round the corner of the street came the whole population of the village,
surrounding with wonder the vehicle in which the fat man came. He sat
smiling, greeting some and of others asking the way to Ana's house,
which a hundred hands pointed out to him, while he continued to look out
of the window as if this house was the goal of his journey.

The hubbub made Ana come to her door, with Jeromín clinging to her
skirts. The coach, the like of which was never seen before, stopped in
front of her; the gentleman greeted her politely, and the widow could
not therefore do otherwise than offer him hospitality in a peasant's
homely way.

The gentleman then got out, and Ana conducted him to her parlour, which
was also her kitchen, clean certainly and with room for twenty people in
the chimney corner on the rough stone seats placed on either side.

Invited by the widow, who seemed to be afraid to be alone with the
stranger, Bautista Vela entered also, followed by Jeromín, recovered
from his fear, but still full of wonder and looking the visitor up and
down as if he were the bearer of good or evil fortune. The fat man was
about sixty, but his extraordinary corpulency neither destroyed the
activity of his limbs nor the charm of his manners. He spoke with a
soft, low, kindly voice with a marked Flemish accent, and not like the
haughty man of war so common at that time. Everything in him betokened
the obsequious courtier, accustomed to the yoke of powerful masters.
Very courteously he told the widow who he was, the object of his visit,
and what he hoped and wished from her. His name was Charles Prevost, a
servant of the Emperor, who had come to Castille on his own business,
but had also brought a special and secret message for her from Adrian du
Bois, valet to the Emperor, and therefore his fellow-servant.

Here the courteous Fleming made a pause and, slightly raising his voice
and accentuating his words, added that this business had been urgently
recommended to him by the very high and mighty gentleman Luis Méndez
Quijada, Steward to the invincible Cæsar Charles V.

Hearing the name of Cæsar all bowed their heads in token of respect, and
on hearing that of Quijada the cleric and the widow exchanged a rapid
glance of fear and suspicion. Jeromín, calmer than the rest, sat on a
high stool, swinging his legs and never taking his eyes off the
stranger, as if he were trying to decipher in that round red face some
problem which he was turning over and over in his baby mind.

Charles Prevost pointed to the child as if its presence were an
obstacle, so the widow took Jeromín by the arm and shut him up in a
room, telling him to wait there. Meanwhile Prevost had produced a paper
carefully wrapped up in two covers of linen, which he held out to the
widow folded in four. As she could not read, shrugging her shoulders she
passed it in her turn to Bautista Vela, who, very much astonished,
unfolded the letter and slowly and solemnly read as follows:

    "I, Francis Massy, musician to His Majesty, and Ana de Medina,
    my wife, know and confess that we have taken and received a son
    of Señor Adrian de Bois, valet to His Majesty, which we did by
    his wish, and he prayed us to take and bring him up like our own
    son, and not to tell anyone whose son he was, as Señor Adrian
    did not wish that by this means his wife or anyone else should
    know or hear of him. For this reason I, Francis Massy, and Ana
    de Medina, my wife, and our son Diego de Medina, swear and
    promise to the said Señor Adrian not to tell or declare to any
    living person whose this child is, but to say that it is mine,
    until Señor Adrian sends someone with this letter or the said
    Señor Adrian comes in person.

    "And because Señor Adrian wishes to keep the matter secret, he
    has begged me to do him the favour of taking charge of this
    child, which my wife and I willingly do and acknowledge to have
    received from the said Señor Adrian 100 crowns which he gave me
    for the journey, for taking the child, for a horse and clothes,
    and keep for one year that is to say that the year is counted
    from the 1st day of August of this present year 1550. For which
    I hold myself content and paid for this year, as it is the
    truth. I sign my name to it, I and my wife, but as she cannot
    write I begged Oger Bodarce to sign her name for her. And the
    said Señor Adrian shall give me 50 ducats each year for the keep
    of the child. Dated, Brussels, 13th of June, 1550."

A long silence followed the reading of this letter; and when Ana de
Medina understood that the hour had arrived for giving up the child she
had looked upon as her son, she burst into tears and between her sobs
said that she perfectly recognised this document to be genuine from end
to end. She had done as she had sworn, and would act in the same way in
the future, and give up the child to whoever was sent to fetch him; but
for God's sake and Our Lady's and a multitude of saints, let him stay
until seed-time, so that there should be time to make him some new
clothes and render him more presentable. Bautista Vela seemed also
touched, and timidly added his entreaties to those of the widow.

But the Fleming, with roundabout reasonings and kindly, comforting
words, showed all the same his absolute determination to leave the next
day at daybreak, taking Jeromín with him. Then, in a long talk and by
clever questions, he let the widow and the priest know how very
displeased the powerful Luis Quijada would be when he found the state of
absolute mental neglect in which the boy had lived all these years, as
he was healthy in body and appeared to be so also in mind; but it was
clear that he knew nothing except how to run about the country shooting
at birds with his crossbow and arrows, nor had he had other lessons than
those of the sacristan Francis Fernandez, and those just lately in the
school in Getafe. The blame for this fell on Bautista Vela, because he
had written from time to time to Luis Quijada that he was seeing that
the boy's education was cared for and that it was not that of a little
peasant.

At this the priest and the widow were silent, knowing they were in the
wrong, the more so as more than once the idea had occurred to them that
Jeromín was not the son of Adrian de Bois, from whose hands they had
received the child, but of Luis Quijada, Steward to Cæsar and one of his
greatest lords. And their idea, which no doubt Prevost also shared, was
confirmed when the supper-hour arrived and he ordered that the table
should be set with the silver and service he had brought in his baggage,
and, seating Jeromín in the place of honour, himself served the meal and
waited.

Jeromín let himself be waited on without showing any diffidence or
surprise, as if all his life he had been used to such attentions. But
when he saw Ana de Medina remaining by the fire and helping to pass the
plates, without daring to come to the table, he said, without looking at
anyone, in a tone which might be a question, or a request or an order,
"Isn't she going to have any supper?" This made the widow burst again
into sobs and lamentations, and the boy bit his lips to restrain the
tears which filled his eyes. We cannot be certain whether Jeromín slept
that night or not, but it is certain that no one had to rouse him the
next morning, and the first light of dawn found him already awake,
dressed in his best clothes, with his fair hair covered by the
picturesque "monterilla." He twice kissed Ana de Medina at the door, and
then turned back and kissed her a third and fourth time. But he did not
shed a tear or say a word, nor did his face change, though it was paler
than usual.

The whole village was at the door, the children in the front row,
Christians and Moors all mixed up, filled with awe and envy at seeing
him in the seat of honour in the little house on wheels which had
frightened them so much the day before.

Then Jeromín asked the widow for his crossbow, so she brought the
roughly made plaything with which he had acquired such wonderful
dexterity, and he gave it to his enemy of the battles, Pedro Verde,
saying shortly, "Keep it."

All the neighbours accompanied the coach to the outskirts of the
village, and the children much farther, also Ana de Medina, crying out
and begging that they would not take away her Jeromín, but would give
her back her son.

He did not stir inside the coach, or put out his head, but remained so
quiet with his eyes shut that the Fleming began to think he was asleep.
But at the last turn, passing the orchard of Maricuernos, at the place
where the Hermitage de los Angeles was afterwards erected, Jeromín's
little hand could be seen out of the window, making last signs to his
playfellows and to the humble woman who had brought him up.




                               CHAPTER II


Jeromín went from one surprise to another, seeing pass, for the first
time before his eyes, lands and mountains, villages, castles, and people
who were not like those of Leganés or anything he had imagined. Charles
Prevost answered his doubts and questions with real and kindly anxiety
to enlighten him, now explaining curious things, now making instructive
remarks which opened new and wide horizons before the boy's virgin mind.
But in spite of the Fleming's kindness, which sometimes seemed natural
and at other times only courtly manners which had become a second
nature, the child's innate sharpness showed him that Prevost always hid
him from the gaze of the people; that he never explained in inns and on
the road who the boy was, or where he was taking him, which Jeromín
himself did not in the least know either. This restrained the natural
open character of the boy and armed him with a certain reserve, which
without being sulky was a want of confidence, the offspring, no doubt,
of offended dignity.

They arrived at Valladolid one May morning, between the 12th and 14th,
at midday. Not to attract attention to his conveyance, Charles Prevost
got out and entered by the small gate of Balboa and went on foot holding
Jeromín by the hand.

Great animation and movement reigned in the streets, because at the
moment the big suites of Grandees, gentlemen, servants and armed men who
were to accompany the Prince of the Asturias, D. Philip, on his famous
expedition to England were in Valladolid, and no doubt for this reason
Charles Prevost chose back streets by which to reach a convent of
barefooted friars. They evidently expected him here, for without more
words than politeness demanded the Fleming handed the boy over to the
Prior, a venerable old man, and left without saying anything further,
promising Jeromín to fetch him in a few days.

The little boy was frightened at finding himself alone among these
austere figures, whom he saw for the first time, and who seemed,
therefore, strange and terrifying. With precocious self-command,
however, he disguised his feelings, and the brothers were so kind to him
that after the first day he got used to them and wandered about the
cloisters and the orchard as he might have done at Leganés. The Prior
told off a young, cheerful brother to keep him company and wait on him,
and gave him a little crossbow that he might gratify his love of
shooting at little birds in the orchard. In a few days they brought him
much fine white linen and three suits, made like a peasant's but of fine
cloth and beautifully trimmed, from Charles Prevost. Jeromín wanted to
try them on at once, as he was nice about his dress and rather vain, for
which there was excuse. He was strong, well made and extremely agile;
his skin was white, although burnt by the sun of Leganés; he had big,
clear blue eyes, soft fair hair, and his whole person was so graceful,
high and noble, that seeing him in his ordinary clothes he looked like a
little prince dressed up as a peasant.

He arrayed himself in his new clothes at once, and that same afternoon
an adventure befell him in the orchard which made a deep impression on
his childish imagination. The orchard was very large and extremely
shady, and crossed in all directions by rows of trees.

Tired with running about, Jeromín threw himself at the foot of a pear
tree, with his crossbow by his side; in front of him stretched a line of
the same trees, from one side of the low cloister to the big stew-pond
where the trout were kept.

Very soon Jeromín saw two very important personages who were conversing
amiably, leaving the cloisters and coming towards him. One was the Prior
of the convent, a bent old man, who leant on his wooden crutch at each
step. The other was a great gentleman of not more than forty, spare,
with a bright complexion, a hooked nose, piercing eyes, and a long,
carefully tended beard which fell on his chest. He wore a doublet of
black velvet, slashed with satin, an old-fashioned cap of the same with
a black feather, and fine buckskin gloves which he carried loose in one
hand. He had the Prior on his right hand, and was listening to him with
great respect, bowing his proud head towards him, at other times
answering him vehemently, hitting one hand with the gloves that he
carried in the other.

Jeromín, frightened, wanted to hide, but it was too late, and he had to
remain crouching under his pear tree hoping not to be seen. However, the
Prior espied him from afar, and at once began a strange manœuvre, which
made the boy wonder; continuing to talk he moved forward little by
little so as to put himself between Jeromín and the gentleman, who
passed by without noticing the presence of the little boy. He then saw
that when the Prior arrived at the stew-pond he secretly gave an order
to a lay brother, and soon after the young brother came and took him out
of the orchard by back paths, and shut him up in his cell without saying
anything or giving any reasons.

Jeromín understood that they did not wish him to meet the great
personage, and this fixed the hooked nose and long beard so firmly in
his memory that, having seen them for only a brief instant, he was able
to recognise him years afterwards at a supreme moment.

[Illustration:


  _Photo Lacoste_

  PHILIP II AS A YOUNG MAN

  _Titian. Prado Gallery, Madrid_
]

The next day the young brother came into Jeromín's cell looking very
pleased, and, as if to make up for the night before, told him that he
was going to show him the greatest and bravest soldiers who ever drew
sword. With much mystery he took the boy to the sacristy under the
church, and showed him a small rose window, which opened half-way up the
wall to let in air and sunshine. He made him mount a ladder, and through
this sort of peep-hole Jeromín could see one of the narrow, irregular
squares which are still so common in Valladolid. The whole square was
crowded; not only the windows and balconies, but even the roofs were
overflowing with men, women and children, all merry and looking as if
they waited for something. And such was the case. Prince Philip was
marching to the frontier to receive his widowed sister, the Infanta
Juana of Portugal, and from there was going to Corunna to sail for
England, and that day, his last in Valladolid, the Prince, with all his
suite, was going to attend a service at St. Mary's, and then parade
through the streets to take leave of his father's faithful lieges.
Jeromín, ignorant of all this, sought in vain the promised soldiers
among the crowd. But he had not long to wait. Very soon the silver
trumpets of the Archers of the Guard began to be heard. Jeromín gave a
jump as if he had received an electric shock, and proudly raised his
handsome little face, almost fiercely, like a charger who hears for the
first time the martial note of a trumpet. With eyes wide open with
wonder and admiration he seemed glued to his window. The brother had
mounted too, and was looking at what was happening in the square.
Slowly, heavily, like walking towers on their great horses, the hundred
Archers of the Guard began to pass six deep, wearing their cloaks of
yellow velvet, with stripes of three colours, red, white and yellow,
which was the device of the Prince. The trumpets duly gave out slowly
their melodious notes. Then followed another hundred of halberdiers of
the German Guard wearing the same colours and devices, and then another
hundred of the Spanish Guard with their captain the Conde de Feria at
their head.

The square burst into joyful cries. The brother got down quickly and
wished the boy to do so too; between curiosity to see and fear of
falling he clung anxiously to the ladder, but he still had time to look
at a handsome, fair young man of twenty-six with his beard cut into a
point, who came slowly by himself into the square, and from the back of
a beautiful horse, caparisoned with velvet and gold, smiled and bowed to
the crowd. On his right, at a respectful distance, Jeromín also saw the
gentleman with the hooked nose and long beard who had been the cause of
his imprisonment the night before, wearing brilliant orders on his
embroidered dark grey doublet and riding a horse with green velvet
trappings and a cloth embroidered in silver.

Jeromín could see no more, the brother made him come down. Once on the
ground the boy walked up and down the sacristy in a rage, with his
little fists clenched, like a lion cub from whom has been taken some
dainty morsel. Through the open window he could hear the measured tread
of the horses, and the cries of the people greeting the brilliant suite
which closed the triumphal march.

He looked at the brother and thought him hideous; he went to the
cloister and thought it a horrible place; he thought of the older man
with the long beard and of the young one with the short beard, to try
and find some defect in them, but could not. What business had these
people to prevent him looking at the soldiers?




                              CHAPTER III


The Infanta Doña Juana arrived in Valladolid as Governess of the Kingdom
very soon after D. Philip left, and four days later Charles Prevost came
unexpectedly to the convent to fetch Jeromín to continue his journey.

They arrived at Medina de Rioseco in two stages, and slept that night at
an inn in the outskirts. The next day, late in the morning, they set out
by the main road to Toro, and after half an hour's journey they could
descry standing against the horizon of vast plains a great castle,
flanked by four towers, a large village, and two churches lying at its
feet.

Charles Prevost called the child's attention to it, and pointing to the
place said, "That is Villagarcia. You will stay there, but I must go on
much farther." Drawing the child towards him, and seating him on his
knee, he told him very kindly that he had come to the end of his
journey; and that in that castle he would find a great lady who was very
good, and who would be a mother to him, and, as such, he was to obey,
love and respect her, and profit by the lessons that would be given him,
and give a good account of himself in the service of God and the study
of letters and arms, and not leave the castle without becoming a learned
cleric, a great preaching friar, or a brave soldier, according to the
vocation God would give him and the advice of his benefactors.

Jeromín listened to him with astonishment, never taking his beautiful
eyes off him. Charles Prevost, who noticed that, as they got nearer to
the castle, the child grew more and more uncomfortable and shy, took him
again on his knees and told him not to be frightened when he saw the
lady, but to greet her with the respect and reverence due to her rank.

They had already reached the castle, which was at the entrance of the
village on the Rioseco side. To distract the attention of the child
Prevost made him notice the massive towers, the strong turreted walls
with loopholes for artillery, and the flag which waved from the tower of
homage, announcing to travellers, according to ancient and lordly
custom, the presence in the castle of the masters, and the offer of free
and safe hospitality to all those who asked for it.

The castle had a fortified gateway which still stands, with a drawbridge
over the moat, and another of a later date towards the village with a
gentle <DW72> up to it which served as an entrance. Prevost's little
Flemish cart went in by this way and entered into a big square
courtyard, a real parade ground, which was formed by the two northern
towers and the two walls on the east and west, the first precinct of the
fortress.

Several grooms came out to receive him, and a grave, bearded squire with
his doublet emblazoned with arms and a big sword of the time of the
Comunidades. He made Jeromín and the Fleming enter into the second
courtyard through heavy iron gates; then they found themselves in
another court of elegant proportions, really that of the house. It was
formed by two ornamental cloisters, an upper and a lower one, with
slender columns, the top one shut in by a balustrade of stone. There was
a big well in the middle of the court, with a great chain and two copper
buckets, and the rest of the space was covered with little paths and box
bushes, except at the foot of the cloisters, where it was paved. From
this lower cloister there was a wide staircase of white stone which
Jeromín mounted trembling, not realising what was the matter with him.
At the first landing he became dazed. A group of people hurried down and
became confused before the dazzled eyes of the child, as if they
flickered like the rays of the sun which was shining on them—a majestic
figure dressed in velvet with things that sparkled—a tall Dominican
friar—two duennas with white caps and black shawls—some women—several
men.

Jeromín became giddy and everything swam before his eyes, he only saw
that two hands of alabaster were stretched out towards him. The boy,
hardly knowing what he was doing, only remembering that Prevost had told
him to greet the lady with great respect, fell on his knees, joining his
little hands as Ana de Medina had taught him to do before the altar of
Our Lady of the Angels.

Then he felt that the velvet arms were embracing him and lifting him up;
that a beautiful face was against his, covering it with tears, and that
a choked voice said to the friar these historical words: "God be with me
and help me, my lord brother! It is a pity that I am not the mother of
this angel."




                               CHAPTER IV


Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, Toledo, Osorio and Quiñones was one of the
greatest ladies of the Spanish nobility of the sixteenth century. She
was the sister of D. Rodrigo de Ulloa, first Marqués de la Mota, San
Cebrián, and the Vega del Condado, and of Doña Maria de Toledo, of the
ancient and noble house of the Condes de Luna.

When she was very young God took from her, first her mother, and then
her father, and she remained an orphan under the charge of her
grandmother, the Condesa de Luna, and after her death under that of her
brother, who fulfilled his duties well and sought a wealthy marriage for
her by arrangement, after the custom of the time, between the two
families. The bridegroom chosen was Luis Méndez Quijada, Manuel de
Figueredo and Mendoza, Colonel of the Spanish infantry, Steward to the
Emperor Charles V, and Lord of Villagarcia, Villanueva de los
Caballeros, and Santofimia, and also of Villamayor in the region of
Campos, in right of his mother. The pair did not know each other; Doña
Magdalena lived in Toro with her brother, and Luis Quijada followed the
Emperor in his wars and journeys, having been his favourite for twenty
years. The marriage articles were arranged in Valladolid on the 29th of
February, 1549. D. Diego Tabera, Councillor to H.M. and the Inquisition,
represented the bride, and the bridegroom was represented by his uncle,
the Archbishop of Santiago, D. Pedro Manuel, and by the illustrious
gentleman D. Gómez Manrique and D. Pedro Laso de Castilla, Steward to
Prince Maximilian, Archduke of Austria.

By these articles the Marqués de la Mota promised to give his sister a
fortune of ten million maravedises, paid by 5000 ducats in money, 2000
in jewels, and the rest by an annuity, adding this clause: "Besides the
ten 'cuentos' she is to have clothes and apparel and furniture and
ornaments for the house, which she has or will have up to the day of the
wedding, estimated by two persons on oath." The bridegroom promised for
his part tapestry worth 4000 ducats and to endow her with the towns of
Villanueva de los Caballeros and Santafimia, which for this purpose he
pledged. The marriage was authorised by the Emperor. Luis Quijada sent
from Brussels, where he was then living, full powers to his brother
Álvaro de Mendoza to marry Doña Magdalena in his name, and this he did
in Valladolid on the 27th of November, 1549, adding this clause to the
document in his own hand: "And in the name of the said D. Luis Quijada,
my brother, for him and as if he himself were present and as a gentleman
of noble birth, I do homage once, twice, three times in the presence and
under the authority of D. Bernardo de Acuña, Commander of the Order of
Santiago, gentleman of noble birth, who through me, and in the said name
received him, taking my hand in his according to the law of Spain, that
the said Lord Luis Quijada, my brother, shall have and keep and fulfil
and pay all that is said and is contained in this writing in good faith,
and without deception and without adding or taking away under the
penalties which befall and are incurred by gentlemen of noble birth who
do not keep their word, faith and homage."

In this strange way marriages were then made, and still more
extraordinary is it that they usually turned out as happily as did this
one. For when, soon afterwards, Luis Quijada arrived in Valladolid,
where his wife went to meet him, they were so attracted to each other,
he by her beauty and womanly discretion, she by his generosity and noble
bearing, that the Christian love and absolute confidence they then
plighted to each other lasted unto death.

Notwithstanding that, there came a time when a severe test was put to
this mutual confidence. At the end of 1553 or the beginning of 1554 the
posts from Flanders began to come more frequently than ever to
Villagarcia. Luis Quijada was following Charles V in his last campaign
against the French, and the husband never lost an opportunity of letting
his wife have news of the dangers he ran or the triumphs he gained. She
was the first person in Spain to know of the taking of Terouanne and the
tower of Hesdin, where Luis Quijada so much distinguished himself, and
to her came the first rumours of the return of the Emperor and his
projected retirement to a convent.

But among all this news which pleased her as a wife, and added to the
lustre of her house, one day there came unexpectedly a letter which
plunged her in perplexity. It was the letter which Luis Quijada had
written from Brussels, probably in February, 1554, although the date is
unknown. Quijada announced to his wife that before long, but after she
had heard again, a man who had his entire confidence would present
himself at Villagarcia, and that this man would make over to her a child
of seven or nine years old, called Jeromín, and he begged her by the
love she bore and which she had always shown him to accept the boy as a
mother would, and as such to protect and educate him. He also said that
the boy was the son of a great friend, whose name he could not reveal,
but whose position and prestige he guaranteed. And he added that though
the education of Jeromín was to be that of a gentleman, his father did
not wish him to dress as such, but to wear the garb of a peasant, in
which he would present himself. It was the desire of the father,
moreover, that with all gentleness and discretion the child Jeromín
should be urged to enter the Church, but not if it were not his vocation
or the Divine wish. The reading of this letter produced in the warm
heart of Doña Magdalena a first and keen sense of pleasure. She had no
children, nor had hopes of ever having any, and through the door, when
she least expected it, was coming to her one of God's own little ones,
sent by him whom she loved best, her own husband. Doña Magdalena's
imagination, spurred on by the charitable anxiety to protect the weak
and love the oppressed, made her see Jeromín already in her arms while
Luis Quijada looked on contentedly, smiling at her lovingly and
gratefully.

This is what Doña Magdalena felt rather than thought at first, but then
came slow, cold reflection, extinguishing with its logic the eagerness
of her impulse and giving light with its reasons to the blindness of the
senses, tarnishing by its rough contact the smiling work of her
imagination, as a heavy shower of rain spoils the wings of a butterfly.
And more icy than reflection, who, if cold and severe, is still
honourable, came her bastard sister, suspicion, vile suspicion, who
undermines and poisons everything and worms her way into the most
upright souls. Reason placed this question roughly but frankly before
her. Why does not Luis Quijada have enough confidence in you to tell you
the name of the father, if he gives the child into your care? And
suspicion slipped gently into her bosom this mean reply, "Because who
knows but that he is himself the father."

Doña Magdalena had a severe conflict with herself, but her heart was so
large that nothing and nobody except her conscience could ever stop her
in a generous act, and throwing everything, fears, suspicions and
imagined wrongs into the flames of her pure charity, she cried out,
"What does it matter where the child comes from, if he is a helpless
creature whom God throws into my arms?"




                               CHAPTER V


The presence of Jeromín in Villagarcia brought a ray of joy to the
sombre castle of the Quijadas, which reflected itself on its
inhabitants. The merry laugh of a child always enlivens its
surroundings, like the song of a bird in a gloomy wood, or a sunbeam
piercing a dark cloud.

The retinue of Doña Magdalena consisted of two duennas, Doña Elizabeth
and Doña Petronilla de Alderete, both noble widows and first cousins;
four maids, of only two of whom are the names preserved, Louisa and the
Blonde; two squires, Diego Ruy and Juan Galarza, this last an old noble,
a companion-in-arms of Quijada; three pages; a steward, Pedro Vela by
name; an accountant called Luis de Valverde, who enjoyed the utmost
confidence of the lady. Besides these there was a swarm of cooks,
labourers, and grooms, also six of Luis Quijada's old soldiers, who
looked after the artillery and armaments of the fortress, unnecessary at
the moment as Castille was at peace, but ready in case of need. Doña
Magdalena also had two chaplains; one, García de Morales, who lived in
the castle, and the other, Guillén Prieto, a very learned doctor of
Salamanca, who came to educate Jeromín from Zamora. He lived in the
village and also served the chapel of the ancient hermitage of St.
Lazarus, which stood on the site where Doña Magdalena afterwards founded
the great house of the Society.

The household fell in love with the graceful, childish figure, and each
outdid the other in serving and spoiling Jeromín, attracted by the charm
of his person and the halo of mystery which surrounded him. He, on his
side, with the discernment children have of the love, aversion or
indifference they inspire, and the degree of liberty they may take, felt
himself loved from the first moment, though not for an instant did he
feel, as do the spoilt children of to-day, that he was the master of the
house. Between the spoiling and flattery of these good people, and the
native pride and self-will of the boy, interposed the stately figure of
Doña Magdalena, neither severe nor austere, but smiling and lovingly
wise, and for this reason she kept him firmly in a secondary position,
in absolute obedience to her, according to Luis Quijada's wish.

Doña Magdalena usually ate with the household, according to the custom
of the time, and Jeromín sat at her table, below the two duennas and
above the squires. Every day she heard mass in her oratory with Jeromín
at her side, but she did not give him either a cushion or a seat. On
Sundays and feast days the noble dame went with all her household to the
parish church of St. Peter, and heard high mass and a sermon from her
stall in the chancel, as lady of the place and patroness of the church;
as page of honour Jeromín stood at her side, between her stall and the
bench of the duennas. Similarly in the parlour, Doña Magdalena often
sent for him to hear her duennas reading aloud, while she embroidered
for the church, or spun for the poor, or sewed, or mended; but she never
gave him more than a cushion, and this far from the dais on which she
alone was seated.

Once a day, however, everything was changed, and she forgot the dignity
of the great lady in the tenderness of the mother, coming into his room
and waking him, dressing him, and combing his hair, he still half asleep
with his pretty face in her lap, and his little hands in hers; and
making him kneel at her side, she prayed and taught him to pray before a
crucifix that she herself had given him.

This crucifix was and is, for it is still preserved in a reliquary at
Villagarcia, an object of no great artistic merit, about a palm and a
half high without the pedestal. This is its history. Years before the
terrible rebellion in the Alpujarras, in one of the warning outbreaks of
the Moors, Luis Quijada was skirmishing in the environs of Valencia,
before embarking for Tunis. A suspected village was denounced to him,
where the Moors were holding secret meetings, and there Quijada went,
alone and disguised. He lodged in the house of the informer, and at
night saw a bonfire blazing in a Moorish enclosure, which was surrounded
by high walls.

He got there as best he could, and in the yard saw a strange sight. As
many as sixty Moors were surrounding the fire, with gestures and mien of
adoration, but in profound silence. Others entered, carrying, tied to a
long reed, a figure of Christ, which they had stolen from a church. All
the worship was changed to angry grimaces and shaking of fists, and
taking the figure from its bearers, they threw it into the fire.

The thud of the image falling into the flames roused Quijada from the
horrible astonishment which paralysed him; and without thinking, which
is the way heroic deeds are done, he jumped into the yard, and without
other weapon than his sword, set on the Moors, pushing some, upsetting
others, wounding many, and making them all take to their heels. When the
coast was clear, he threw himself into the fire, among the flames and
smoke and hot cinders, searching for the sacred image. He found it at
last, half burned, and went out of the door, holding it aloft and
calling down vengeance, his sword in his hand, his hair scorched, his
clothes burnt, and his face and hands blackened and covered with blood.
Doña Magdalena told Jeromín this story, and he asked the first time why
they burnt the crucifix. The child listened with his soul in his
tear-filled eyes, his mouth contracted, his nostrils dilated, and his
little fists clenched, with all the look of a Clodovic in miniature,
furious not to have been able with his Gauls to have prevented the theft
of the Christ. The lady understood the nobleness of this childish heart,
which beat at the sound of that which was great, holy, and brave, and
she looked at him for a moment in admiration, and then contented herself
by kissing him. But, by the next courier, she asked Quijada's permission
to place the child under the protection of the sacred image. This
Quijada readily granted, and the crucifix was moved from the head of his
bed, where it was, to Jeromín's, who always kept it with him, calling it
afterwards "His Christ of battles," and he died kissing it, invoking its
holy name.




                               CHAPTER VI


Doña Magdalena only allowed Jeromín two days in which to rest from the
fatigue of his journey, and to visit the village and castle; the third
day, which was a Monday, she made him begin at once to regulate his
hours and studies, according to the plans she had prepared. She had
given him a room near hers, and the chaplain García de Morales, who was
to be his tutor and instructor in religion and Christian doctrine, was
lodged on the other side. The chaplain Guillén Prieto was given the care
of his secular education, and the noble squire Juan Galarza undertook to
instruct him in the theory and use of arms and also in riding.

Doña Magdalena for her part reserved the duty of training him in the
love of God and of his neighbour, which she easily did by always showing
him the good example of her saintly life, rather than by rules and
precepts. Charity was the distinguishing virtue of this great woman,
made brighter by her discretion. She thought that the duties of her rank
consisted in forwarding God's glory and the good of her neighbour,
particularly of her vassals, to whom she felt specially bound by the
mere fact of her position. She gave away her ample income, and, later,
distributed her fortune, which was not entailed, in this way, to relieve
misery and the material wants of the poor, to supply the needs of their
souls, and to increase the service of Our Lord and His honour.

In order to further these objects she founded hospitals on her estates
and beyond them, in increasing numbers she redeemed captives, and so
continuous and copious were her alms, that after her death she was
called "God's almoner." She also founded colleges, schools, missions and
catechisings; and was so munificent in what referred to God's service
that, not content with raising sumptuous temples, at one time she
ordered 500 silver chalices to be made and distributed among poor
parishes which did not possess any worthy of the Blessed Sacrament, the
object of her special devotion.

Doña Magdalena had ordered her accountant, Luis de Valverde, an
honourable old man, to ascertain the wants of the poor of Villagarcia,
and to give each one a paper signed by him, setting out what in his
opinion was lacking to the bearer.

The poor brought the papers at a special time to Doña Magdalena, which
was very early in the morning, not to interfere with their work. She
religiously paid them, adding to the alms the balsam of compassion, good
advice and respect for misfortune. This was Doña Magdalena's hour of
recreation, and she had also chosen it to instil in Jeromín charity and
respect towards the poor, which after the fear of God is the first duty
of the great and powerful.

This lady got up at sunrise at all times, and at once went to Jeromín's
room to wake and dress him. They heard the mass read by García de
Morales, and then Jeromín was dispatched to await in the cloisters the
arrival of the poor people. He made them sit on two stone benches which
ran along the lower cloisters, giving preference to the old and infirm,
and then went to tell his aunt, for by this name, according to Quijada's
wish, the child began to call Doña Magdalena. "Aunt! There are such a
lot of poor," he used to announce.

Then she would come down with two big purses, one filled with silver
reales for the poor who were proud and had Valverde's papers, the other
one with pence for the ordinary poor who had no papers, to whom she
always gave 20 maravedises and upwards. Doña Magdalena collected the
papers, and Jeromín gave the money, very respectfully, kissing it first,
cap in hand.

One day, however, there came among the poor a very dirty old man from
Tordehumos; it disgusted Jeromín to touch his hand, so he let the money
fall, as if by accident, and the old man had to pick it up. But Doña
Magdalena, guessing the reason, stooped down and picked it up herself,
and gave it to the old man, first kissing the dirty hand. Jeromín
flushed up to the roots of his hair, and full of shame went on with his
task.

Three days afterwards the same old man came again. Jeromín turned
crimson on seeing him, intentionally dropped the money, stooped and
picked it up, and kneeling humbly down, kissed first the money and then
the hand of the old man.

Thus the child profited by and understood the lessons given him, and
grew and flourished amid the love and blessings of everyone in the
castle. There was only one thing which drew on him scoldings from D.
Guillén Prieto and severe remarks from Doña Magdalena—his studies. He
could read Spanish fluently, write well in a running hand, and began to
stammer in French, which by the express order of Quijada was taught him
by a Fleming, who had come to Villagarcia for the purpose, but Latin
with its "ibus" and "orum," and Greek with its horrible letters like
flies' legs, were uphill work to the boy, which nothing save the wish to
please Doña Magdalena and to earn her approbation would have made him
undertake. But the boy had made a complete conquest of Juan Galarza. No
one, according to him, had a better eye, a steadier hand, or was more
quick and agile, or more daring and brave, and at the same time more
calm, "and when he got astride either the pony or the Roman mule of my
lord D. Álvaro, God rest his soul," wrote the squire to Fr. Domingo de
Ulloa, "a devil seems to enter him and make him more merry and active
and a greater romp than ever."

And Doña Magdalena said with deep conviction, "Let him grow up and he
will be another Luis Quijada, my lord."

Periodically she wrote about these things to Quijada, who passed them on
to a mysterious person, whom we shall often meet in the course of this
history.

"The person who is in my charge," she wrote about then, "is in good
health and to my mind is growing and is a good size for his age. He gets
on with his lessons with much difficulty, and he does nothing with so
much dislike. He is also learning French, and the few words he knows he
pronounces well, though to know it as he should will take more time and
practice. What he likes best is to go on horseback riding either with a
saddle or bareback, and you will see that he seems as if he would use a
lance well, though his strength does not help him yet."

This news must have proved to Luis Quijada and his mysterious
correspondent that Jeromín's tastes were not those of a cleric, as his
unknown father and Quijada desired they should be. Doña Magdalena had
seen it from the first moment with her usual perspicuity. On his arrival
at Villagarcia both she and her brother, Fr. Domingo de Ulloa, wished
that she should show the boy the castle and its treasures, so as to be
able to judge his character from his first impressions. Nothing caused
the boy wonder or even surprise. Not the rich Flemish tapestries with
which some of the halls were hung, or the sumptuous beds with their
columns and canopies; not the plate which shone everywhere, or the
embroidered ornaments in the oratory, purposely displayed before his
gaze, or the cast-iron stove which had come from Flanders to warm Doña
Magdalena's parlour, and which was something then unknown in Spain, and
so much prized that it was afterwards taken to Yuste, so that the
Emperor himself might make use of it.

The boy looked at everything with the simple indifference of one who has
grown up among similar objects, and with high-bred ease that pleased as
much as it astonished.

But when he came to the armoury and saw the heavy iron armour, the
lances four times as tall as himself, the trophies of shining cuirasses,
swords, and shields, the sight of these dread weapons filled him with
enthusiasm. He ran about looking at all the details, and at each step
stretched out his little hand to touch these wonders, and then drew it
back as if he was afraid of hurting them.

Till at last admiration overcoming everything, he stopped before a small
suit of very beautiful armour, that Quijada had brought from Italy,
which was lying on the ground waiting to be cleaned, and he asked Doña
Magdalena's leave to touch it, with all a child's shyness. The lady
gladly gave him permission, and with trembling respect, as if he was
handling something sacred, he fingered the armour all over, examining
the joints, working the visor up and down, and ending by putting his
fist into the cuirass. This made a metallic sound, and Jeromín lifted
his radiant face towards his protectors with a smile on his lips, and a
look in his eyes that showed his character.

The lady, half smiling and half astonished, said to her brother, "Luis
Quijada, my lord, will be annoyed. We have here a little soldier and no
monk."




                              CHAPTER VII


Jeromín had a great fright on the morning of the 28th of August, 1556.
He was doing his lessons with D. Guillén Prieto, when Doña Elizabeth de
Alderete, first lady-in-waiting, appeared suddenly to tell him from Doña
Magdalena to come to the parlour.

She considered his lesson time so sacred, and it was so extraordinary
that she should send for him during this hour, that the boy, frightened,
began hastily to examine himself to see what faults of commission or
omission he could have been accused of. Then he saw a courier covered
with dust passing through the cloister. He began to imagine that the
strange power which governed him and took him from one place to another
was claiming him once more, and was going to separate him from Doña
Magdalena, which made the child so miserable that he arrived in the
presence of the lady very crestfallen, and with eyes full of tears.

Doña Magdalena was standing, an open letter in her hand, and joy in her
face, so that, with the discernment of a much-loved child, Jeromín was
comforted at once. "My aunt would not look so happy if they were going
to take me away," he said to himself. She came to meet him, holding out
her arms.

"Come here, Jeromín, give me a kiss as a reward for good news," and she
gave him one on the forehead with all the tenderness of a mother, and
then added joyfully, "You shall be the first to know, Jeromín, that in
three days Luis Quijada, my lord, will be here." Everyone present,
duennas and maids, exclaimed with delight, and pleased with these
demonstrations, Doña Magdalena, more beside herself with joy than
Jeromín had ever seen her, then said, "And now, Jeromín, amuse yourself
all day and go with Juan Galarza wherever you please."

Meanwhile the news, carried by the courier, had run through the castle
and village with many added details. The abdication of the Emperor was
already a fact, and despoiled of all his power Charles V had embarked at
Flushing for Spain, in order to shut himself up for the rest of his days
in the convent of Yuste. For this purpose the Emperor was sending
forward his steward Quijada, from whom he was inseparable, that he might
await Charles's arrival in Laredo, after having spent a few weeks in the
bosom of his family.

This news convulsed the castle, village, and most of all Jeromín, who
had not a moment's peace during those three days, or passed a night
without dreaming of the noble figure of Quijada, whom he only knew by
hearsay, and imagined to be something gigantic.

It was a great race, that of Quijada, four centuries of honour sustained
from generation to generation on the field of battle, and the present
one had not spilled their blood less gloriously. Luis's eldest brother,
Pedro, had been shot at the Emperor's side in Tunis. Juan, the youngest,
had died at Teruanne fighting for Castille, and Luis, the only one left,
had been wounded in the Goletta. He was the hero of Hesdin and the
inseparable companion of the Emperor in Africa, Flanders, Germany and
Italy, serving him loyally for thirty-five years. It pleased the boy to
conjure up this pair, formidable by their deeds, dazzling in their
glory, as Juan Galarza had so often described them to him in the battle
of Landresies, where the squire also fought. The Emperor gave Luis
Quijada his banner, and putting on his helmet said to the squadron of
the Court, that the day had come and that they must fight like
honourable gentlemen, and that if they saw him or his standard carried
by Quijada fall, they were to raise the flag before raising him. There
was no doubt about it: two great principles were taking hold of Jeromín
without his knowing it. God and the helpless, as Doña Magdalena felt and
taught. The Emperor, the King, authority and justice came from heaven
and were sisters, as their servant Quijada proclaimed!

And then the poor child became miserable and wrung his little hands—why?
Because in three days he would see the glorious leader without having
done anything for his God or his King.

Hearing him groaning and restless Doña Magdalena, who was also
sleepless, ran to his help, thinking him ill; and when with childish
confidence he told her his trouble, the noble dame could not do
otherwise than laugh and be astonished at the same time.

All the neighbours in Villagarcia went to meet their lord half a league
beyond the village, the men with arquebuses to fire a salute, the women
in their best clothes and the children in two rows to sing the hymn of
the Quijadas, according to ancient custom. Some of the neighbouring
gentlemen, who were relations, went on horseback to Rioseco, where the
last stage began, and all the clergy of the place went with uplifted
cross as far as the hermitage of St. Lazarus, according to the privilege
of the noble house of the Quijadas.

Night was already drawing in when the horn of the watchman, posted on
the tower of homage, announced that the suite was approaching. They
could hear the salvos and the voices of the girls and boys singing:

                     Los Quixadas son nombrados
                     De valientes y muy fieles;
                     Azules y plateados
                     Sin quenta, mas bien contados
                     Traen por armas jaqueles.[1]

Footnote 1:

                     The Quixadas are called
                     Brave and very loyal;
                     Blazons
                     Without number and much esteemed
                     They carry for arms.

The bells of St. Pedro and St. Boil and the small bell of St. Lazarus
all began to ring joyfully, and the clergy hastened to the hermitage to
give the cross to be kissed by the lord of the place and the patron of
the church.

Luis Quijada came, riding a powerful mule, his thin tabard of taffeta
soiled by the dust of the journey, and wearing a head-dress of
unbleached linen on account of the heat. He was more than fifty, tall,
powerful, and spare, sunburnt until he seemed sallow, with a thick black
beard, his look intelligent but hard, his head bald beyond his years
from the continual friction of his helmet. Bending over his saddle he
kissed the cross of the parish with his head uncovered, and answered the
responses in correct Latin, trying to soften his naturally rough, harsh
voice; and putting his mule at a walk he rode, surrounded by the whole
village, followed by the gentlemen and men-at-arms and more than twenty
mules with baggage and provisions.

He got off at the gate of the castle, for on the threshold Doña
Magdalena and all the household were awaiting him, in front of her
Jeromín in his best clothes, holding a tray covered with a rich cloth
with the keys of the castle, which he was to present to the master on
bended knee when he alighted.

There was a moment of expectant curiosity; those present were breathless
and silent from the lady to the lowest villein of Villagarcia. The
suspicion that Jeromín was Luis Quijada's son had spread through the
castle, and had rooted itself in the village as a certainty, and all
wished to see the meeting of father and son, which they thought would be
dramatic.

Whether Quijada had come prepared, or whether it was really a
spontaneous impulse, he sprang lightly off the mule, and without taking
the keys or looking at Jeromín, went straight up to Doña Magdalena and
embraced her tenderly with much joy and signs of affection.

Everyone shouted, the artillery of the castle burst forth with salvos
which made the old walls echo and shake; fireworks whizzed through the
air, and from the cloister minstrels, who had come there on purpose,
saluted the arrival of the master with trumpets, drums, and other
instruments accompanying the hymn of the Quijadas:

[Illustration:

  LUIS QUIJADA, LORD OF VILLAGARCIA

  _In possession of the Conde de Santa Coloma_
]

                     De la casa de Roland
                     Que es casa de gran substancia
                     Con gran trabajo y afan
                     Vino un muy gentil galan
                     Á Castilla de su Francia.[2]

Footnote 2:

                     From the house of Roland
                     Which is a very important house
                     With great labour and trouble
                     Came a very fine gallant
                     To Castille from his France.

The coming of the lord of Villagarcia did not alter Jeromín's position
in the castle. Quijada treated him with the same affection and prudent
precautions as Doña Magdalena did, and never lost an opportunity of
studying Jeromín's nature and the springs of his character, and those
impulses of manliness and energy which are the base of real valour.

One day when Quijada was in the armoury cleaning a gun and Jeromín at
his side giving him the pieces, he said suddenly, "Jeromín, would you be
capable of shooting off a gun?" and the boy answered him with perfect
confidence, "I should be ready to shoot off a gun or to receive a shot."

The answer pleased Quijada, who from that time gave him leave to remain
covered in his presence, and gave him a little sword, more a childish
toy than an arm of defence.

But very shortly Jeromín covered himself with still greater glory,
according to the detailed account of the licenciado Porreño. On the
occasion of a bull-fight in Villandrando, a very fierce bull charged the
barrier and put everyone to flight except Jeromín, who, sheltered by the
woodwork, faced the animal and tried to wound it with his little sword
in the head, making the bull go back to the arena, to the astonishment
of everyone, who did not attribute the deed to mad daring, but rather to
bravery or a real miracle.

On which, says Porreño, "The ladies at the windows of the bull-ring sang
his praises and the whole crowd applauded the courage and daring of the
lad, who had firmly withstood this savage animal, and congratulated Luis
Quijada on the bravery, which under an humble garb his protégé showed,
judging that beneath the sackcloth there was the...."




                              CHAPTER VIII


At three o'clock in the morning of the 2nd of October, 1556, a horseman
arrived at Villagarcia by road from Valladolid, and knocked furiously on
the door of the castle. The night watchman hastened at the noise from
the top of the wall, and asked who went there.

"Praised be God," said the person below.

"And the Virgin, Our Lady," replied he on the wall.

Cap in hand, the horseman then added pompously, "A letter from Her
Highness the very Serene Princess Governess."

This naturally made a stir throughout the castle. Luis Quijada himself
came out to meet the messenger, half dressed, with his spectacles in his
hand. He read the Princess's letter and then handed it to Doña Magdalena
gloomily, for he was one of those people who are all self-sacrifice and
abnegation in their acts, but grumbling and cross in their words. This
is what the letter said:

    "THE PRINCESS.

              Luis Méndez Quijada, Steward to the Emperor my Lord,
    this morning I have received tidings that the Emperor, my Lord,
    and the Very Serene Queens, my aunts, arrived last Monday, the
    eve of St. Michael, at Laredo, and that H.M. disembarked that
    day, and they on the following one, and that they are well, for
    which much thanks to Our Lord, and were received with due
    pleasure and contentment. And as you are wanted for the journey,
    and as it is convenient to know where to lodge them in this
    town, I pray you that as soon as you receive this you will start
    and go at once to H.M. by post, and that when you are arrived
    you will give an account of the two apartments which we had
    arranged and let me know, with all diligence, which one H.M.
    would prefer, and that you will say whether any stoves shall be
    put in them or other things, so that it may be done ready for
    his arrival.

    "Also I beg you that you will ascertain from H.M. if he wishes
    that foot and horse guards should be sent for his escort or that
    of the Very Serene Queens, my aunts. If it will be necessary for
    any Grandees or knights to come as escort. Also if he wishes
    that there should be any reception in Burgos or here for H.M. or
    the Queens, my aunts, and of what kind.

    "If he wishes the Prince, my nephew, to go to meet them on the
    road, and where. If he would like me to do the same, or the
    councillors who are here. That you may advise me with all
    diligence, particularly as to his wish in everything.

    "Also that you should undertake the charge, which I give you, of
    seeing that His Majesty is well provided on the road with
    everything necessary, and also the Very Serene Queens, my aunts,
    and to see that the taxes are well collected, advising the
    Alcalde Durango what it appears to you necessary for him to
    provide, that nothing be lacking, and me here what it is
    convenient to provide for him, in doing which you will please me
    much. From Valladolid, 1st of October, 1556.

                                                         "THE PRINCESS."

Doña Magdalena returned the letter, after reading it, to Quijada, saying
sadly that he would be obliged to set out that afternoon or the next day
at latest, to which Quijada answered irritably that he saw no need to
wait until the afternoon when on the Emperor's service, and that he
would start at once. And he gave his orders so quickly, and so
expeditious was everyone in executing them, that two hours later, at
five in the morning, Quijada and his people were all ready to set out.
Jeromín came to kiss his hand with eyes full of tears; but shaking him
roughly by the shoulders Quijada told him "to keep those tears for when
he confessed his sins, that only at the feet of a confessor it became
men to cry." Ashamed, the boy swallowed his tears, and then Quijada,
thinking that he had been over-severe, gave him his hand to be kissed,
making the sign of the cross on his forehead, and promised him the suit
of Milanese armour the first time he should break a lance in public.

Luis Quijada made the journey from Villagarcia to Laredo in three days
and a half, according to the letter he wrote himself to the Princess's
secretary, Juan Vázguez, on the 6th of October.

    "Illustrious Sir,

    I arrived here from Villagarcia in three days and a half, with
    great difficulty, as I could not find posts or animals to hire."
    And further, he adds, "Nothing more occurs to me to say except
    that it does nothing but rain, that the roads are bad, and the
    lodgings worse. God keep us; we shall have work, but not so much
    as I have gone through this journey. I tell your Honour the
    truth, I have never passed through worse or greater dangers,
    because I could already see myself knocking off the tops of
    thirty peaks, as a mule fell with me across a wide gap, and if
    it had been to the left, I should have had a still worse fall.
    From Bilbao, 6th of October, 1556, sent from Laredo.—

                                                      LUIS QUIJADA."

Luis Quijada then met those three august ruins the Emperor and his two
sisters, the widowed Queens of Hungary and France, in Laredo, who,
despoiled of everything, and weary of acting great parts in the world's
drama, were come to die in the peace of the Lord, each one in a
different corner of Spain.

The eldest of the three was Queen Elinor, widow by a first marriage of
D. Manuel the Fortunate of Portugal and by a second of the magnificent
Francis I of France. Doña Elinor was fifty-eight, but more than years,
troubles, anxieties and the dreadful asthma she suffered from had aged
her, so that no one would have recognised in this sad, bent old woman
the former brilliant Queen of Portugal and France. But neither age, nor
illness, nor her many and bitter disappointments had been able to alter
the serenity of her character or her goodness, which made D. Luis de
Ávila and Zúñiga say in a letter written to the secretary, Juan Vázguez,
"She was really an innocent saint, and I think she had no more malice
than an old dove."

The Queen of Hungary, on the other hand, was masculine and decided. As
quick to see as she was prudent and energetic to execute. Her brother
loved her beyond everything, and Doña Maria repaid his fraternal
affection with interest, and was always his greatest admirer, upholding
his policy with great ability. Her energy and talent got him out of
grave difficulties and real troubles during the twenty-five years this
great Princess was Regent of Flanders. At the time of her return to
Spain she was fifty-two, but had no signs of age except grey hair, and
in spite of her years, and the heart disease from which she suffered,
would have performed the journey on horseback by the side of her
brother's litter if the weakness of the Queen of France had not kept her
at her sister's side. Doña Elinor, recognising the affection and
superiority of her sister, always sought advice and help from her, which
Doña Maria gave, as the most loving mother might to the most trusting
daughter. The sisters were also physically a contrast. At that time Doña
Elinor was a little, short, dried-up old woman, with very white hair and
such a peaceful, sweet face that she attracted by this imposing but
gentle majesty, which was placed in relief by virtue of her rank.

Doña Maria was tall for a woman, with a good figure and extremely
stately, though not in the same way as her sister, but with that other
majesty which stamps the fact of superiority by merit, rather than that
of superiority by birth. Neither of the Queens dressed in Spanish
fashion, but richly and plainly in the Flemish style, with double skirts
caught up, and severe coif of black velvet, linen collars, and black
veils which covered them from head to foot.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Lacoste_

  EMPEROR CHARLES V. CHARLES I OF SPAIN

  _By Titian. Prado Gallery, Madrid_
]

Between these ruins came that of the no less august and worn-out
majesty, the invincible Emperor, vanquished only by years, wars, worries
and his gluttony, for this really great man who had controlled two
worlds could never control his own excessive appetite, and this had
overcome him, crippling his hands and paralysing his knees. His wide
forehead was bald, and his under-lip, already a characteristic of this
great race and still distinguishing it, fell more than ever. On the 6th
of October the Emperor set out from Laredo after dinner, and in one
march reached Ampuero, where he made the first halt. The road did not
permit all the suite to travel together, and they were divided in this
way. First went the Alcalde Durango with fifty alguaciles with wands,
and behind came the litter of the Emperor with Quijada at his side; it
looked more like the procession of a prisoner than the escort of the
greatest monarch on earth. As a matter of precaution there was also a
sedan-chair in which they could place His Majesty in difficult places,
and behind came valets and several mules with the things indispensable
to the Emperor wherever he was.

At the distance of one march followed the litters of the Queens and
their ladies, some of whom went on horseback; also sedan-chairs in case
of necessity, and a mule and a horse saddled for the Queen of Hungary,
who liked to ride occasionally. The third group consisted of the rest of
the suite of the Emperor and the Queens and more than a hundred mules
laden with baggage.

This modest escort was Quijada's despair, as only five alguaciles
guarded the Emperor like a prisoner, and he had several discussions on
this point, giving his opinion with his usual peevish frankness. The
Emperor sent him to the devil, as was his custom, and Quijada, annoyed
and in a bad temper, was silent till the next opportunity.

The Constable of Castille and D. Francisco Baamonde came out to meet
them at Burgos, and accompanied them to Valladolid with a very brilliant
guard. At Cabezón, two leagues from Valladolid, the Emperor met Prince
Carlos; his grandson went to greet him with some gentlemen of his
household. The Emperor did not know this unfortunate Prince, who was
afterwards so tragically celebrated, and was very pleased to see him. D.
Carlos was then eleven, and as the day was rather cold had put on a very
richly lined doublet, which, according to a letter from Francisco Osorio
to Philip II, suited him very well, and His Highness looked a
"foreigner." The bravery of his attire, however, could not hide the
Prince's feeble frame, or the notable disproportion of his head to the
rest of his body. His grandfather and the two Queens gave him their
hands to kiss, which the Prince did very politely and respectfully. But
the first moment of shyness passed, the boy returned to his usual
restlessness and self-will, and began to make a noise and upset the room
with very little respect for those great personages. And seeing a
portable stove, which served to warm the Emperor's room during the
journey, a thing then unknown in Spain, he asked his grandfather to give
it to him. This was refused, and, the child still persisting, the
Emperor, almost angry, said sternly, "Be silent, D. Carlos. After my
death you will have time to enjoy it." It did not please the Prince that
the Emperor and the two Queens talked French among themselves, as they
usually did, as he could not understand this language, which drew down
upon him another reproof from his grandfather, who told him very
severely that his was the fault for having taken so little pains to
learn it.

Meanwhile the good Queen Elinor begged her brother to tell the child
something of his campaigns; this the Emperor gladly did, and the Prince
listened with great attention. But when he referred to his flight from
Innspruck before the Elector Maurice, the Prince interrupted him
abruptly and disrespectfully, saying that he should not have run away.
The grandfather laughed at his grandson's outburst, and explained that
want of money, finding himself alone, and the state of his health had
obliged him to make this flight.

"It does not matter. You ought not to have run away." His persistence
amused the Emperor, who went on arguing, "But if your own pages wished
to seize you and you were alone among them, you would have to run away
to escape from them." "No," said the Prince proudly and with anger, "I
should never run away." The Emperor laughed at this haughty persistence,
which pleased him, but he was not altogether very well satisfied with
the heir to the throne, as he said to his sister, the Queen of France.

"He seems very noisy, and his manner and temper please me little. One
does not know what may become of such a hot-tempered youth."




                               CHAPTER IX


Luis Quijada hoped that, once established at Yuste, the Emperor would
allow him to return to his castle of Villagarcia and rest by the side of
Doña Magdalena. The Emperor, however, thought otherwise, and all his
generosity consisted in giving Quijada a few days' leave two months
after his arrival, in April, 1557.

The Emperor set out from Valladolid on the 4th of November, 1556, at
half-past three in the afternoon, after having dined in public, and
forbidding absolutely that anyone besides his servants should take leave
of him beyond the Puerta del Campo. In this second march he took an
escort of cavalry and forty halberdiers. The first stop was at Medina
del Campo, in the house of a celebrated money-lender named Rodrigo de
Dueñas, who, like all those who unexpectedly become rich, was vain and
ostentatious and wished to make a parade of his wealth, putting in the
Emperor's room a brazier of massive gold, and instead of ordinary fuel
fine cinnamon from Ceylon. This show, however, displeased the Emperor,
and the smell of the cinnamon affected his throat, so he ordered the
brazier to be taken away, and the money-lender to be paid for his
hospitality, to humble his ostentatious, vulgar vanity. Another five
marches brought them to Tornavacas on the 11th of November. Tornavacas
is on the side of the range which bounds the Vera of Plasencia. From
here it is only one march to Jarandilla, the next halt, but it was a
very troublesome one, as a horrible defile, called the Black Pass, had
to be traversed, which had no real road, only a track across torrents,
by precipices, and through dark chestnut woods which covered the steep
sides of the mountain.

The Emperor decided to follow this shorter but more difficult route, and
left early on the 12th, preceded by many peasants with pikes and staves
to make the way practicable. In front went the Emperor, sometimes in his
litter, at others in his sedan-chair, or carried on men's shoulders,
according to the state of the road. At his side walked Quijada, a pike
in his hand, directing the march. Thus they went for three leagues.

The rest of the suite came behind without order and only careful not to
leave their bones among the precipices. On arriving at the top of the
Puerta the view of the beautiful Vera de Plasencia stretched before the
gaze of the Emperor, and far away at the end of the valley on a little
hillock, surrounded by orange and lemon trees, was the monastery of
Yuste, which was to be his sepulchre. He looked on it for a time in
silence, and then, turning round towards the Puerta, through which he
had just come, said solemnly and sadly to Quijada, "I shall never go
through another pass in my life except that of death."

The Emperor lodged in Jarandilla, in the castle of the Conde de Oropesa,
D. Fernando Álvarez de Toledo, and stayed there three months, waiting
until his rooms at Yuste were ready for him, and for money to pay the
servants who had accompanied him so far, and who were not to follow him
to the monastery. They amounted to about ninety, counting among them
Italians, Burgundians, and Flemings. At last the Emperor definitely set
out for Yuste, on the 3rd of February, 1557. At the door of his room he
took leave of his servants, amid their tears, and with no little emotion
on his part. After that everything was as silent and solemn as a
funeral. Punctually at three o'clock he got into his litter, accompanied
by the Conde de Oropesa riding on his right, Quijada on his left, and
the Lord Chamberlain La Chaux behind.

The litter passed between two lines of halberdiers formed up at the
gates of the castle, and no sooner had it passed than the guards threw
down their halberds sorrowfully, as if they no longer wished to use
these arms, after having done so in the service of so great an Emperor.
The afternoon was rather foggy and the country dreary, and there was
much that was impressive and funereal in the passing of this modest
procession, which crossed the valley in silence and wound slowly up the
hill on which the monastery stands. The litter stopped at the door of
the church, among some orange trees, and the Emperor got out; they put
him like a corpse into a chair and carried him up the steps of the High
Altar. The Conde de Oropesa on his right, Luis Quijada on his left. The
Prior, Fr. Martin de Angulo, then intoned the Te Deum. "The bells were
overwhelmed and seemed to make more noise than usual," says the
ingenuous account of the anonymous monk of Yuste.

The Emperor did not live at Yuste like a simple monk, as so many
historians have averred. His household consisted of more than fifty
persons, without counting the fifty-three friars who in various ways
were connected with his service, and were selected with great care and
sent to Yuste from the other convents of the Order. His house was large
and comfortable, though not sumptuous, as can still be seen, for, thanks
to its proprietors, the Marqueses de Mirabel, it remains intact. On one
side it joined the church, the other three looked on the brothers' shady
garden, which had been given up to the Emperor. The building consisted
of eight big, square rooms, four on the ground-floor for summer, and
four above for winter, which were those that the Emperor used. On each
floor, from east to west, went galleries, the lower one running round
both ends of the garden, the upper one leading to two large terraces,
planted with flowers, oranges and lemons, and embellished with beautiful
fountains, where, as in a stew-pond, were magnificent trout.

The rooms were hung with twenty-four pieces of Flemish tapestry,
representing landscapes and scenes with animals. The study, or room,
where the Emperor received was in the deepest mourning. At the time it
was fitted up he was wearing mourning for his mother Queen Juana, so it
was put up and so it still remains. It was hung with long black cloths
and floating curtains and had a canopy and six big chairs of black
velvet; twelve chairs of walnut and artistically worked leather, and six
benches, which opened and shut, lined with black cloth. In the centre
and almost under the canopy was a large table with a black velvet cover
and an enormous arm-chair of a particular shape, with six very soft
cushions and wheels to move it about, where the Emperor sat.

The bedroom had two beds, a big one and a little one, and a window in
front which was also a door, and opened on to the same level as the High
Altar of the church. Through it the Emperor heard mass from his bed when
he did not get up, and through it the brothers came to give him the Pax
and the Holy Communion when he received it, which he frequently did.

He had also brought some family portraits with him and some of his
favourite painter Titian's wonderful pictures, rich jewels, and curious
clocks by Giovanni Torriano, who was called Juanelo, and abundant plate
for the use of his chapel, himself, and his table, little enough,
however, for one who had exchanged the kingdom of two worlds for this
corner.

The valets, barbers, cooks, bakers, and clock-makers, Juanelo and his
assistant Valín, lived in a different part of the cloisters from that
inhabited by the monks. The doctor Mathys, the apothecary Overstraeten,
and the brewer Dugsen lodged in the hospice of the convent, while the
secretary Martin Gastelu, the keeper of the wardrobe Morón, and Luis
Quijada were boarded in the best houses of the village of Cuacos, whence
they came each day to the monastery.

Having arranged all this difficult installation, Quijada waited
patiently for the Emperor to grant him permission to retire, as he had
already done to the Lord Chamberlain La Chaux. But the Emperor gave no
sign, and the days and weeks and months passed and Quijada poured out
his ill-temper in letters to the secretary Juan Vázquez, above all when
he had to wait on the illustrious personages who came to visit the
Emperor at Yuste and lodge them in his house at Cuacos. But all the same
he did not cease to care for the Emperor with the love and watchfulness
of a mother for a spoilt child, or to aid him at all times with the
light of his good sense and great prudence in those important affairs in
which the Emperor took part even after his retirement to Yuste, with his
observations, his counsel, and not seldom with his orders.

But at last the Emperor made up his mind, and on the 28th of March he
told Quijada that he might go to Villagarcia, if such were his pleasure,
and there await orders. Quijada gladly promised this, and on the same
day adds this postscript to his letter to Juan Vázguez: "His Majesty has
been very good. He has ordered me, of his own freewill, to go home, and
says that he will tell me what to do. I assure your Honour that I shall
not return to Estramadura to eat asparagus and truffles."

Quijada stopped in Valladolid to execute important commands of the
Emperor's for the Princess Governess Juana, and from there he wrote on
the 8th of April to his mysterious correspondent to whom alone he wrote
about Jeromín's affairs:

"It seems to H.M. that as to the service of his person and house,
everything is in order and as it should be, and it is his pleasure to
send me to my house, as I have been there so little since he came, and
for many reasons my presence there is necessary."

He found nothing changed in Villagarcia, Doña Magdalena was still the
model of all virtues and the helper of the poor, and Jeromín the joy of
the castle and the sun which shed light and movement and happiness
around him. An extraordinary event occurred at this time to strengthen
more and more the belief that Jeromín was Quijada's son and to expel the
bitter suspicion, on the contrary, from the noble heart of Doña
Magdalena. One night, while all slept, a severe fire broke out in the
castle, which spread to the rooms of Doña Magdalena and Jeromín, which,
as we have said, were contiguous. Quijada saw the great danger they both
ran, and without hesitation dashed first to save the child and then
afterwards Doña Magdalena.

All saw in this the love of the father triumphing over that of the
husband; but Doña Magdalena, knowing how she was loved by him, saw the
noble nature of Quijada overcoming this immense love, and thought how
great must be the honour which Jeromín's custody conferred on Quijada,
that he should sacrifice to it what was dearest to him in the
world—namely herself.




                               CHAPTER X


The selfishness of the Emperor could not long bear the absence of
Quijada, and a messenger was sent to Villagarcia on the 10th of August,
1557, ordering him to return to Yuste. Quijada did not suspect the plot
which the whole of the diminished Court had made against him, with the
Emperor at its head. On the 17th of August the secretary Gastelu, who
much esteemed Quijada, wrote with much mystery from Cuacos to the
Secretary of State, Juan Vázguez, "If Luis Quijada comes here and there
is anything that you can do for him, will you do all you can to carry
out all his wishes, for I can assure you that he well deserves it, and
it is politic to gratify him now that it is a question of his staying
here and bringing his wife—but this for yourself."

On the 23rd of August Quijada arrived at Yuste, and the next day,
directly after dinner, the Emperor himself opened the subject, by asking
him plainly to stay altogether with him, and to bring Doña Magdalena and
all his household to Cuacos. The proposal frightened Quijada, and
thinking, perhaps, first about Jeromín, and then of the various pros and
cons, he could give no answer. This same day, the 24th, by order of the
Emperor, Gastelu wrote to the secretary Vázguez, "Illustrious Sir, the
Emperor put before Señor Luis Quijada, just after dinner to-day, the
reasons for not leaving his service. Up till now he (Quijada) has not
settled to stay by reason of the many difficulties in the way, not being
able to do so alone, and the greater ones of bringing his wife here, and
it being so necessary to be in her company. Things being so (the
Emperor) has ordered me to write to your Honour that you should inform
him what is given to D. Garcia de Toledo, as he is steward to the Lady
Princess and also was so to the Serene Queen of Bohemia, when she was in
those kingdoms, and also to the King, our Lord, and to the Marqués de
Denia, who was so to the Queen, our Lady, that informed about
everything, he may see what is just to do, and you may tell him your
Honour's opinion, and that secretly, without anyone understanding what
he wants to know, and that the answer should come at the first
opportunity, because time presses; meanwhile the affair will be brought
to an end, although I find some difficulty in doing so."

Six days later, on August 31st, Gastelu wrote again to the Secretary of
State Juan Vázguez, "The Lord Luis Quijada, after much talk over his
going or staying, has settled, in spite of all the difficulties of
bringing his wife and of her staying here, to conform to the will of
H.M. and to please him and to stay here, as he has probably written to
your Honour; and the emolument which he (the Emperor) has to give, waits
the answer of what I wrote to your Honour by the said post. His Majesty
is well, and very pleased about Señor Luis Quijada staying. Please God
he and his wife will be so in time."

And when the note asked for from Juan Vázguez arrived the Emperor
himself wrote to Philip II:

    "Son, on the 8th ult. I wrote last in answer to your letters,
    and I have heard that Ruy Gómez received mine in Laredo. Since
    then Luis Quijada has arrived here, and I have talked to him
    about remaining and bringing his wife; I ordered Gastelu to do
    it as if I were there present, and although there were
    difficulties in the way he agreed, however, of which I am glad,
    as it is a thing I much wished. And desiring afterwards to talk
    to him about the salary, he excused himself and left it to me.
    And to find out more about this Juan Vázguez was written to,
    that he might inform me what had been done as regards other
    persons who had served under similar conditions, and he has sent
    the report, of which I send you a copy. By it you will see the
    result of the enquiry: and as I do not know what Ruy Gómez says
    about this, nor has he told me beyond sending me a copy of the
    letter which you wrote to him on June 10, in which reference is
    made to it, I write to you so that in case he should not have
    sailed, he should give you full information and his opinion
    about the money aid that should be given (to Quijada); taking
    into account that nothing has been given him since his arrival
    in this Kingdom, and the expenses he has and those he may have
    to incur in bringing his wife and household and establishing
    himself in the house at Cuacos; with the order that, if the said
    Ruy Gómez has left, the messenger should go on and overtake him,
    or go wherever you are, that in view of all that is mentioned
    above, you may learn what I should do and thereupon tell me."

Once it was settled that Quijada should stay in the service of the
Emperor and that Doña Magdalena and Jeromín and all the household should
come to the neighbouring village of Cuacos, prompt as usual he lost no
time in finding the necessary accommodation. For this purpose he bought
two more houses contiguous to the one he occupied, making them into one,
and as comfortable as possible in such a wretched place. When everything
was prepared, he set out for Villagarcia to fetch and accompany Doña
Magdalena and his household on the arduous journey. He wrote from Yuste
to his mysterious correspondent,

    "Since August I have been here without going home. Now H.M.
    is willing that I should go and fetch my wife, and that we
    should establish ourselves, and although you must understand
    what a work it is to live here, I do it, in spite of the
    inconveniences, knowing that it is H.M.'s pleasure, so I go
    and shall return with the companion you know." As soon as he
    had returned from his journey and had established Doña
    Magdalena and the "companion" in Cuacos, he hastens to
    apprise the mysterious correspondent, sending the news this
    time in a prudent "the rest," the innocent Jeromín being all
    unconscious of their supervision. "After having done what
    you asked in your letter in Valladolid and having found out
    everything and how everybody was there, I went home, leaving
    again as quickly as possible with Doña Magdalena and 'the
    rest,' and arrived here on the 1st inst. (July). We found
    the Emperor very well and fatter than when I left, and with
    a very good colour and in good spirits."

Doña Magdalena arrived at Cuacos on the 1st of July, as the preceding
letter relates. The same day the Emperor sent her a courteous letter of
welcome and a substantial present of "cecina," the meat of sheep fed
only on bread, and other victuals with which the larder of Yuste
overflowed, as Kings, Princes, Grandees and prelates disputed for the
honour of supplying it, and each sent the best produce of their estates.

Jeromín came with delight to Cuacos, with the hope of knowing the
legendary hero of his martial dreams, the Emperor, whom he always
painted to himself as wearing a plumed helmet on his head, his shining
armour crossed by a red sash, riding the Andalusian horse caparisoned
with velvet and gold, as he is painted in his famous Muhlberg picture by
Titian, or as a thousand times Juan Galarza and Luis Quijada,
eye-witnesses, had described him. The boy quite understood that in his
humble position of an unknown child he would not see the Emperor close,
or kiss his hand, or hear his voice, but he counted on seeing him from
afar, and he knew from Quijada that the Emperor walked in the garden and
sometimes even dined in the open air on the terrace of the house.

However, day followed day, and in spite of all his vigilance Jeromín
never caught a glimpse of the Emperor in the garden or on the terrace.
When at last, one night after supper, Doña Magdalena called him and told
him that his desire was to be more than fulfilled, as the next day he
was to accompany her, as page of honour, to visit the Emperor, it gave
the boy such a shock, and he turned so white, that the lady was
frightened and took him in her arms. Jeromín, throwing his round her
neck, with the affection that he felt for her, told her ingenuously that
the idea of speaking to the Emperor terrified him, and that he should
not know what to answer.

The Emperor had invited Doña Magdalena to go and see him, and Quijada
had arranged that Jeromín should accompany her as page of honour, taking
a present which Doña Magdalena was to offer. This visit must have taken
place in the early days of July, as Gastelu writes on the 19th to
Vázguez and refers to it as a thing already long past. "Lord Luis
Quijada," he says, "is well, and so is my Lady Doña Magdalena, whom H.M.
was careful to order to visit him, and the other day she went to Yuste
to kiss hands, and he was all kindness."

We have not been able to ascertain what Doña Magdalena's present was,
but it was probably either gloves or handkerchiefs that were taken the
next day to Yuste on a silver tray covered with embroidered damask. Doña
Magdalena set out at three o'clock in her litter, Jeromín riding beside
her on the little Roman mule which Luis Quijada had inherited from his
brother Álvaro de Mendoza; he was very smart in his new page's dress and
looked like a little painted statuette.

Behind came Juan Galarza and the other squire mounted on good, strong
mules. They alighted at the door of the church, according to Quijada's
arrangement, and went to the High Altar, where he awaited them. Then he
took them by the glazed door into the Emperor's bedroom; he handed
Jeromín the present on the tray of silver, and the two went into the
Emperor's room, Jeromín following.

The darkness added to the funereal aspect of the room, as the curtains
had been drawn and the windows closed because of the heat. Jeromín, as
Quijada had ordered him, groped his way to the wall on one side, and
there stood very straight, with the tray in his hand. At first he could
distinguish nothing, except a sort of mountain of black things, a white
spot in the centre, and heavy breathing like that of an asthmatic old
man. The Emperor received Doña Magdalena "con todo favor," as Juan
Vázguez wrote to the secretary Gastelu. She was the only lady he
received in Yuste except the Queens, Doña Elinor and Doña Maria; he sat
up in his chair as much as his swollen knees allowed, and took off his
thin silk cap. He gave his hand to be kissed, and, with all the grace
and gallantry of his youth, then asked Quijada's permission to kiss the
lady's. He ordered an arm-chair to be put near him, as if she had been a
princess of the blood, and also ordered the curtains to be undrawn and
the windows to be opened.

Then the light streamed in, and Jeromín could see what remained of that
great Emperor, that hero of many battles: a bent old man, with a white
beard, a sunken head, and a tired voice. He was lost in the cushions of
his enormous chair, his legs covered with a rich and light quilt stuffed
with feathers, a present from his daughter Princess Juana. At his side
on a perch a beautiful parrot, and on his knees he had two tiny Indian
kittens, which had been sent him a short time before by his sister Doña
Catalina, the great widowed Queen of Portugal.

Jeromín remained awestruck before this ruin, till gaining courage he
dared to look at him face to face. But at that moment the Emperor raised
his head, and, as if by accident, his glance fell on the child. Jeromín
shut his eyes and shrank up as if he saw a mountain falling on him.
There was the Emperor, the hero of so many battles—he saw the eagle's
glance which still had genius and glory in it, and which also had, as it
looked on the child, something strange and deep, which was neither stern
nor indifferent, but rather gentle and loving, though mixed with
something which oppressed and terrified Jeromín, without his knowing
why, because it was impossible for his innocent soul to perceive the dim
shadows which remorse sheds on love.

All this only lasted a moment; Doña Magdalena spoke of her present, and
Quijada ordered the child to approach and offer it. Jeromín did so,
trembling like quicksilver, and knelt before the Emperor, lifting up the
tray to him. The Emperor took what was on the tray with many expressions
of pleasure and thanks, and placed the present on the table. Then he
stretched out his crippled hand for Jeromín to kiss, and laid it for a
moment on the fair head. At a sign from Luis Quijada, Jeromín returned
to his place.

Meanwhile one of the Emperor's kittens had got away and ran to Jeromín
and began to make friends and scramble up his legs. The Emperor laughed,
and Jeromín, very confused, gently pushed the kitten away with his foot
to make it go back to its place. The Emperor said, "Carry it here."
Jeromín picked up the little animal and presented it to the Emperor on
his knees.

The Emperor again gave his hand to be kissed, and placed it for a second
time, for a moment, as if in benediction or as a caress, on Jeromín's
head. They left as they had come in. On entering the church Jeromín
pulled Doña Magdalena's skirt, and throwing himself into her arms began
to cry. Astonished, she asked him what was the matter, and putting his
little red mouth close to her ear, he whispered between his sobs, "I do
not know, Lady Aunt, I do not know." Luis Quijada came and saw him
crying, but did not ask the reason or reprove him, this time, for his
tears.




                               CHAPTER XI


Jeromín never saw the Emperor near again; though from afar he did so in
the garden, on the terrace, and sometimes in the church. On many of
these occasions the Emperor also saw him, and then the boy felt the
strange, earnest glance fixed upon him.

Neither did Doña Magdalena go again to visit the Emperor, but she had
daily received signs of his favour, by the visits of authorised persons
or by tactful presents. It was seldom that a day passed without the
Emperor sending her some dish from his table, and no convoy of meat,
preserves, fruit or sweetmeats arrived at Yuste without a substantial
portion being reserved for her, which was sent with messages of the
greatest kindness. These presents were as useful as honourable, since
there was a great scarcity of provisions in Cuacos, and what was
obtainable was not very good. On the 30th of August, 1558, Jeromín saw
the Emperor for the last time. The child was wandering about in the
garden at Yuste with his crossbow and arrows, as he did sometimes by
Quijada's own wish in his play-hours. The day was cold for summer in
that part of the world, and although the glare from the sun was great on
the terraces, the Emperor caused himself to be taken to the west one,
and ordered that dinner should be brought there. Hidden in the orange
grove that was in front of it Jeromín watched him for a long time.

Luis Quijada and a groom of the chamber named Guillermo Van Male were
serving him, on a little table made on purpose, which fixed on to the
Emperor's chair. Van Male presented the dishes, Quijada carved them, and
four servants brought and took away the courses. D. Mattys was absent;
he should have inspected the viands, but was away in Jarandilla. The
confessor, Fr. Juan de Regla, was standing before the Emperor, austere
and grave as one of Zurbarán's Carthusians, reading as usual a chapter
from St. Bernard.

The Emperor ate little and without appetite, and then, in spite of the
glare and against the wishes of Quijada, he composed himself there to
take his short siesta. He was awakened by the arrival of Garcilaso de la
Vega, who came from Flanders to treat with the Dowager-Queen of Hungary
to induce her to return to govern the States. The conversation lasted
for more than an hour, and at four o'clock the Emperor blew his golden
whistle, complaining of a severe headache. A change had come over him
and he was shivering. They put him to bed at once, and when the doctor
came back that night from Jarandilla, where the Emperor had sent him to
see the Conde de Oropesa, he was not pleased with the Emperor's looks.
Nor could he have been so himself, as that night he expressed to Quijada
his wish to add a codicil to the will he had made in Brussels on the 8th
of June, 1554.

This desire did not frighten Quijada, as the Emperor had often expressed
the same wish before; but the continued fever, delirium and collapse did
alarm him, and on the 1st of September he wrote to the Princess Juana,
begging her to send as quickly as possible Queen Maria's old doctor,
Corneille Baersdorp, who was staying with her at Cigales.

The Emperor felt himself sick unto death, and confessed and communicated
on the 3rd of September, fearing some new and mortal seizure would take
him unawares. Dr. Corneille arrived from Cigales on the 8th, as did also
Garcilaso de la Vega, bringing the welcome news that Queen Maria had
accepted the government of the Flemish States. The Emperor, however, did
not wish to see him until he had signed the codicil, which he did on the
9th.

He conferred a long time the next day with Garcilaso and the last joy of
his life was knowing that his sister, Doña Maria, had, at last, given in
to what he so much desired. He asked with great interest for the
"Regente" Figueroa, and the Archbishop of Toledo, Fr. Bartolomé de
Carranza, who had come from Flanders with Garcilaso, and was expected at
Yuste. He then learnt that the "Regente" was ill at Medina del Campo,
and that the Archbishop, knowing nothing of the Emperor's illness, had
gone to Cigales to confer, by Philip II's wish, with Queen Maria, and
was coming to Yuste from there.

This conversation tired the Emperor very much, and it was the last time
that he worried about the things of this world. On the 19th the doctors
found him so much worse that they spoke to Quijada about the necessity
of administering Extreme Unction. Quijada looked angry on hearing this,
as he was one of those men of violent character who always show their
sorrow by becoming cross and disagreeable, and he told them not to leave
off feeling the Emperor's pulse, and to put it off until the last
moment. This last moment seemed to have arrived at nine o'clock that
night, and the steward summoned Fr. Juan de Regla and three other monks
in a great hurry. He went to the Emperor first and said, "Your Majesty
has twice asked for Extreme Unction. If you please, it is here, as your
Majesty has health and sense to receive and enjoy it." The Emperor
replied, "Yes, and let it be at once." The curtains of his bed were then
drawn, and Fr. Juan de Regla gave him Extreme Unction, aided by three of
the principal monks in the convent. The next morning, the 20th, the
dying man somewhat rallied, and at eight o'clock ordered everyone to
leave his room except Luis Quijada.

He was already almost without strength and was propped up by pillows. On
account of the heat he could only bear a shirt and a thin silk quilt
which covered him to his chest. Sadly Luis Quijada knelt at his pillow,
and the Emperor, in a feeble voice but with all his senses, talked for
half an hour. Here are his exact words as the same Luis Quijada wrote
them to Philip II in his letter of the 30th of September, 1558:

    "Tuesday, before receiving the Holy Sacrament, he called me and
    sent away his confessor and the rest, and I kneeling down, he
    said, 'Luis Quijada, I see I am ending little by little: for
    which I give much thanks to God, because it is His Will. You
    will tell the King, my son, to take care of these servants in
    general, those that have served me here until death, and that he
    should use Gilaone (Guillerno Wykesloot, the barber) as he
    wishes, and order that in this house no guests should be allowed
    to enter.' What he said about his wishes for me I do not care to
    say, being an interested party. Also he wished me to say other
    things to Y.M. which I will tell you when God brings me to Y.M.
    Please God it may be with the happiness all desire."

In this last conversation that the Emperor had with Quijada he left a
strange remembrance to Jeromín. He commissioned his steward after his
death to give to the child Jeromín, as his property and for his use, the
old mule which he rode on, the blind pony he had kept, and the little
mule that with the other two animals formed all his stud.

At midday the Archbishop of Toledo, Fr. Bartolomé de Carranza, arrived
in Yuste, a robust old man with a loud, disagreeable voice, and long,
ill-kept white hair. He rode on a white mule, and was wrapped in a brown
garment over his Dominican habit, and over that wore a crumpled cloak
with a magnificent pectoral cross, a present from Mary Tudor, Queen of
England. His enormous suite followed him to Cuacos, but he came alone to
Yuste with the Dominicans who accompanied him, Fr. Pedro de Sotomayor
and Fr. Diego Jiménez. The Archbishop knelt when he reached the
Emperor's bedside and kissed his hand. The dying man looked at him for a
long time without speaking, and then ordered that a chair should be
given him, and asked for news of the King, his son, whom the Archbishop
had left in Flanders; but after a few words the Emperor interrupted him
abruptly, and ordered him to go and rest in his inn. Charles mistrusted
the Archbishop because the first suspicions had come to his ears of that
heresy which shortly landed the unlucky old man in prison, persecuted by
some, defended by others, and discussed by all, even to our times.

So the Archbishop went to dine in Luis Quijada's house at Cuacos, where
Doña Magdalena was awaiting him. The grave condition of the Emperor had
made a great sensation in the village; the whole neighbourhood was to be
found in the street, making a cordon from Yuste to the church of the
place, where continual prayer was offered before the Blessed Sacrament.

Doña Magdalena and Jeromín never rested; since dawn messengers had never
ceased coming from Yuste with news, and since the same hour the noble
lady came and went from the oratory, where she prayed and wept, to the
parlour, where she received the messengers and made preparations for the
arrival of the Archbishop, whom she expected from minute to minute.
Jeromín, nervous and trembling, could not keep still for an instant; at
times he wanted to cry, at others to shut himself up in the oratory with
Doña Magdalena and pray, or to dash off to Yuste, and, if it were by
main force, to reach the Emperor's room and gaze once more on that
pallid face, its snowy beard surrounding it like a fringe of silver. The
boy had never seen death, or heard it alluded to except as happening on
the field of battle, and it seemed to him like killing by treason that
so great an Emperor should die in his bed, and that to annihilate so
glorious an existence, thunder and lightning and stars would be
necessary, that the elements should war together and the whole earth be
convulsed.

At four o'clock the Archbishop arranged with his suite to return to
Yuste, and then an idea occurred to Jeromín. Without saying a word to
anyone, he saddled the little Roman mule himself and went to the convent
among the Archbishop's following. His presence surprised no one, as he
was thought to be Luis Quijada's page, and without any difficulty he
went to the black hung room next to the chamber where the Emperor lay
dying. He found several monks there, the prelate, Juan de Ávila, the
Conde de Oropesa, D. Francisco de Toledo, his brother, and Diego de
Toledo, uncle to both.

Luis Quijada hastened to meet the Archbishop and came face to face with
Jeromín. The great heart of the steward seemed to come into his mouth
and even his eyes to moisten when he saw him. With much love and
kindness he came towards the frightened child, and drawing him out of
the room, begged him to go back to Cuacos to the side of Doña Magdalena.
The boy obeyed without a word, hanging his head and casting a look at
the room where his hero was dying. He saw nothing; the black curtains
were drawn, and between them could only be seen the foot of the enormous
bed and, over the crippled limbs, the black silk coverlid. But he could
hear the difficult breathing of the dying man.

When Jeromín returned, overcome, to Cuacos, he found Doña Magdalena in
the oratory, saying the prayers for the dying, again and again, with her
ladies and servants. He knelt in a corner amongst them, and there
remained for hours and hours. At ten o'clock sleep, that invincible
friend of children, overcame him, and obliged Doña Magdalena to put him,
dressed as he was, in her own bed, promising to wake him at the supreme
moment. The lady sat at the head of the bed leaning against it, inside
the curtains, telling her beads. Jeromín slept uneasily, with a sad
expression on his little white face, heaving deep sighs. Doña Magdalena
looked at him, anxious also and astonished. All at once, for the first
time a strong suspicion crossed her mind; she stopped praying, looking
earnestly at the child, and leant over him as if to kiss his forehead,
and then kissed his little hands.

At this moment the big bell of Yuste tolled solemnly in the silent
night. Doña Magdalena sat up frightened and stretched out her neck to
listen, with her hands joined. Another bell tolled and then another.
There was no doubt, it was the passing bell. Doña Magdalena hesitated
for a moment, and then gently woke the sleeping child. Clinging to her
neck he asked, terrified, "Is he dead?" "Pray, my son, pray," she
answered.

And, linked together, they prayed the psalm of the dead, "Out of the
deep I call."




                              CHAPTER XII


The grief of Luis Quijada at the death of the Cæsar was so great that
the anonymous monk of Yuste, who was an eyewitness of all these events,
writes as follows: "It happened that the Archbishop having left with the
other lords, as I have said above, to write to the King, our Lord, about
the death of his father, there remained in the room where the body of
the dead Emperor lay, the three men beloved by H.M., the Marqués de
Miraval, Luis Quijada and Martin Gastelbú (Gazletu), who did and said
such things in their sorrow for the death of H.M. that those who did not
know them might have judged them wrongly. They shouted, they cried, they
beat their hands and their heads against the walls, they seemed beside
themselves, and so they were, at seeing their lord die, who had brought
them to such honours, and whom they so tenderly loved; they said much in
praise of Cæsar, referring to his virtues. Such were their cries and
shouts that they woke all the household of H.M., and all behaved in the
same manner, till they were turned out of the room where four monks
remained, who embalmed the body, as I said above." This excess of sorrow
no doubt produced a certain nervous irritation in Luis Quijada, and made
him harder and more severe than ever for a long while, and perhaps also
less prudent. Only as regards Jeromín he seemed just the contrary, not
by his care and vigilance, for they could not have been greater than
before, but by showing the affection and regard which he had kept
hidden.

For three days very solemn services were celebrated in Yuste, and Luis
Quijada presided over everything, dressed in a cloak of black baize and
a mourning hood which almost completely hid his face. During all these
days Jeromín was at his side, also dressed in a cloak and hood which
only left uncovered those blue eyes which saw and scrutinised
everything. "It certainly astonished us," wrote the nameless monk of
Yuste, "how he had the strength to remain standing so long."

It happened that on the first day of these services Quijada saw the page
of the Marqués de Miraval bring a chair for his master into the church,
and ordered him to take it out. The page answered that his master was
ill, and that it was necessary for him to take it in. To which Quijada
replied, "Then let him stop outside; I will not allow anyone to be
seated before the Emperor, my Lord, alive or dead."

Jeromín asked Quijada if he might have the Emperor's parrot and one of
the kittens, the other having died a short time before, and with real
pleasure Luis Quijada brought them to Cuacos and placed them in the
child's care, until they were claimed by Princess Juana, who had been
notified of their existence. And such weight had this august
"Zapirón"[3] with the austere steward that in a letter to the Secretary
of State, Juan Vázguez, he adds this curious postscript, "This letter
was written two days ago, and as I had much to do, and as I wished to
wait till they had all gone, I did not send it. To-day they have
finished taking out all his baggage. Your Honour will forgive the paper
being cut, because the devil of a kitten upset the inkpot on the other
sheet."

Footnote 3:

  Zapirón is the feline hero of Lope de Vega's "Gatomaquia"
  (Translator's note).

Luis Quijada stayed in Cuacos until the end of November, as it took all
that time to finish the arduous task of arranging the Emperor's house,
making inventories, sending away servants, settling accounts, and paying
debts. Doña Magdalena took this opportunity of going with Jeromín to the
sanctuary of Our Lady of Guadaloupe, which was not far off. While she
was away something happened which surprised and displeased Quijada,
though he had had warning of it a long time back.

It was that none of the many personages who stayed with him in Cuacos,
or the monks of the convent who often came there, or any of the thousand
people who, for one reason or another, arrived there during the stay of
the Emperor, could fail to notice the attractive little figure of
Jeromín, which had so much native charm, or the strange position that he
occupied in the Quijada household. Many suppositions were formed and
many remarks were made, and so serious were some, and to such exalted
circles did others reach, that one day, when Quijada least expected it,
he received a letter from the Secretary of State, Juan Vázguez, writing
on behalf of Princess Juana, asking him bluntly if it were true that the
Emperor had left a natural son, who had been for years in his care,
because H.M. wished to provide for him, if such were the case. Quijada
was much perturbed at this very important question, and hastened to
answer Juan Vázguez on the 18th of October. "Regarding what your Honour
says about the boy in my charge, it is true that a friend entrusted him
to me years ago, but there is no reason to think that he is H.M.'s son,
as your Honour says has been put about here, for neither in his will, a
copy of which he had and made Gastelu read in his presence to us, his
confessor and me, nor in the codicil which he afterwards made, is there
mention of this, and this being so I do not know what more I can
answer."

Not content with this, Quijada wrote from Cuacos, as if to put himself
right with his unknown correspondent in Flanders, the only person to
whom he mentioned anything about Jeromín. "Twenty days after the death
of H.M., Juan Vázguez wrote to me from the Very Serene Princess that I
should tell her if it were true that I had in my charge a child, wishing
to make me understand that it was said to be H.M.'s, and that I should
tell her secretly or publicly if it were so, because, if true, she would
endeavour to fulfil any wishes left regarding him. To which I answered
that I had the boy of a gentleman, a friend of mine, who had given him
to me years ago, and that H.M. having mentioned him neither in his will
nor in the codicil, there was reason enough for treating it as nonsense,
and that I did not know what else to answer publicly or privately."

Juan Vázguez returned to the charge, and the steward, who was already
put out, answered, alluding to the secretary's erroneous idea, in spite
of Quijada's assurance to the contrary, that the Emperor, months before,
was arranging the house of the Archbishop in Alcalá to go there, and to
leave Yuste. "It certainly appears to me that your Honour goes on about
this boy as if it were as certain as that H.M. was arranging the house
in Alcalá so as to go there. Will your Honour ask the agent the value
of, and what I said to him about, a certain annuity that I wish to
purchase for this child?"

But as Quijada when passing Valladolid on his way to Villagarcia found
on all sides the same rumour, of which Vázguez had sent him the echo,
and was annoyed by direct and indirect questions, he wrote this time
without circumlocution to the unknown Flemish correspondent, who was
none other than His Catholic Majesty, King Philip II:

    "I find all that concerns the person Y.M. knows that I have in
    my care, so public here, that I am frightened, and still more so
    by the particulars I hear. I am alarmed lest the Very Serene
    Princess should press me to tell her what I know, which I am not
    at liberty to do. I have decided to be silent and not to answer
    more than I did the first time, as I told Y.M. from Yuste. H.H.
    is so gracious that up to now she has said no word to me; so I
    shall answer no one who asks more than that I am ignorant of
    what people say; but I am also aware that the Very Serene
    Princess almost certainly knows the truth, from what I hear. But
    H.M.'s wish, as you know, was that it should be kept secret
    until your coming, and that afterwards what Y.M. commands should
    be done. I have made no more demonstration than in the Emperor's
    lifetime; but I am very careful that he should learn and be
    taught the things necessary for his age and his rank, since it
    is very important that every pains should be taken with him
    because of the way in which he was brought up before he came
    under my charge. So I thought that I had better advise Y.M. of
    what was happening and of the Emperor's intentions, so that Y.M.
    should understand and say what your wishes are. Also he has had,
    these ten days, a very severe double tertian fever; but blessed
    be God! when I came yesterday from my house, it had left him and
    he was out of danger."

D. Philip was grateful for this loyalty in Quijada, and answered with
his own hand that the secret should be strictly kept, as the deceased
Emperor had wished, until he himself arrived in Spain, which would be
very shortly; but Quijada was not to be alarmed by the rumours as the
fact was already public in Flanders. To the will that the Emperor had
made in Brussels was added a sealed note with this superscription in his
own writing: "No one is to open this writing but the Prince my son, and
failing him, my grandson D. Carlos; and failing him, he or she who
should be my heir according to my will, when it is opened."

Inside the envelope was the following declaration, signed by the Emperor
and sealed with his private seal:

    "Besides what is contained in my will, I say and declare, that
    while I was in Germany, after I was widowed, I had by an
    unmarried woman, a natural son called Jeromín, and my intention
    has been and is, for various reasons which lead me to this
    decision, that he shall be well guided, that of his free and
    spontaneous will he shall take the habit in some community of
    reformed friars if he inclines to it without any urging or force
    whatever. But if he cannot be thus guided and would rather
    follow the secular life, it is my wish and command that he
    should be given an income in the usual way each year of from
    20,000 to 30,000 ducats from the Kingdom of Naples, apportioning
    to him places and vassals with the said income. All this, the
    appointing of the aforesaid and the amount of the income
    aforesaid shall be as the Prince, my son, thinks best, to whom I
    commend it; and failing him, as it appears best to my grandson,
    the Infante D. Carlos, or to the other person who, according to
    this my will, should be my heir at the time it is opened. And if
    the said Jeromín is not then already placed in the state I
    desire, he shall enjoy the said income and places all the days
    of his life, and after him his heirs and legitimate successors
    and descendants, and whatever calling the said Jeromín shall
    embrace, I charge the said Prince, my son, and my grandson and
    whoever should be my heir, as I have said, when this my will is
    opened, that they shall honour it and cause it to be honoured,
    and pay him the respect that is seemly, and that they shall
    cause to be kept, fulfilled and executed all that is contained
    in this writing. The which I sign with my name and hand, and
    close and seal it with my little private seal, and it is to be
    kept and put into effect as a clause of my aforesaid will. Done
    in Brussels the 6th of June, 1564. Son or grandson, or whoever
    at the time that this my will and writing is opened, and
    according to it is my heir, if you do not know where Jeromín is,
    you may learn it from Adrian, a groom of my chamber, or, in case
    of his death, from Oger, the porter of my chamber, in order that
    you may act towards him according to the above."

To this very important declaration was added a duplicate of the writing
signed by Francisco de Massy and Ana de Medina, which had served Carlo
Prevost to reclaim Jeromín at Leganés four years before.




                              CHAPTER XIII


Jeromín quickly recovered from his fever, and the happy, peaceful,
regular life flowed on at Villagarcia as before the disturbing interlude
of Yuste and Cuacos. Luis Quijada faithfully kept the Emperor's secret,
according to Philip's commands, and the very existence of Jeromín, once
more shut up behind the walls of Villagarcia, seemed completely
forgotten.

But there is no accounting for the memory of an inquisitive woman,
however discreet and prudent she may be, and if few outdid the Governess
of Spain, Princess Juana, in virtue, prudence and discretion, few had
more curiosity, or better means of gratifying it at their command.

As no one had found out from Luis Quijada who Jeromín really was, it
occurred to her that she might obtain the information from Doña
Magdalena, and with this object in view she sent a missive to
Villagarcia about the 15th of May, begging her to come to see the Auto
and to bring the boy she had with her, in the disguise in which he
lived.

The Auto to which the Princess Juana alluded was the celebrated Auto da
Fe which took place in Valladolid on the 21st of May, 1559, at which Dr.
Augustin Cazalla and thirty of his heretic disciples were condemned.
This Lutheran conspiracy had been discovered many months before during
the lifetime of the Emperor, who had urged and begged Doña Juana and the
Inspector-General D. Fernando de Valdés, Archbishop of Seville, to mete
out prompt and severe punishment to the offenders.

There lived then in Valladolid, at No. 13 of the Street of the
Silversmiths, a certain Juan García, a silversmith by trade. For some
time his wife had noticed that he was absent-minded and irritable, and
that he pretended to go to bed early and then went out again. Being a
brave, decided woman, she disguised herself one night and followed him,
supposing some intrigue. When Juan García reached the street now called
after Dr. Cazalla, he at once knocked at the door of a house between
what are now cavalry barracks and the old apothecary's shop in the
Square of St. Michel. The door was opened with great caution, and the
woman distinctly heard a password which seemed to be "Chinela," and Juan
García answered "Cazalla," on which the door opened and he went in. The
wife remained spellbound, and her astonishment grew as she noticed that,
singly and by twos, men and women came from both ends of the street. The
same ceremony took place, and they disappeared into the mysterious
house, which was none other than that of Doña Leonora de Vibero, mother
of Dr. Cazalla. Being, as we have said, a resolute woman, on seeing a
very devout woman (the Juana Sánchez who afterwards committed suicide in
the prison of the Inquisition by cutting her throat with scissors)
approaching, she followed secretly, gave the password, and entered
behind Sánchez into a large, ill-lighted room, where she saw and heard
Dr. Cazalla explain to more than seventy people the doctrines of the
Lutherans which he had brought back from Germany. She understood at once
that she was in a conventicle of heretics, and horrified, but not losing
her presence of mind, she left quietly and the same morning informed her
confessor of all that she had seen and heard. Whether he was infected
with the same doctrines or did not much believe the woman, he only told
her not to worry over the matter. However, the same day she warned the
Grand Inquisitor himself, and put the threads of the plot into his
hands. Following them with much prudence and precaution, he found the
plot so widespread that when in prison Cazalla rightly said, "If they
had waited four months to persecute us, we should have been as numerous
as they are, if six months, we should have done for them as they have
for us." The affair made a great stir throughout Spain, and it is
calculated that 200,000 people flocked to Valladolid to be present at
the Auto da Fe, which was to take place as the crowning act of the drama
on Trinity Sunday, the 21st May, 1559.

Luis Quijada was party to all this, as he had been sent by the Emperor
from Yuste to the Princess and the Inquisitor to urge the swift and
severe punishment of the heretics. As a man of his time, a fervent
Spanish Catholic and a politician educated in Germany, Quijada thought
that only severe warnings would stop Protestantism from entering Spain,
and with it the breaking up of the kingdom and probably the end of the
monarchy. So it appeared to him a good lesson for Jeromín to go to the
Auto da Fe, and he insisted that Doña Magdalena should accept the
invitation of the Princess and go to Valladolid with the child and his
niece, Doña Mariana de Ulloa, heiress of his brother, the Marqués de la
Mota, who was at Villagarcia at that time.

So Doña Magdalena set out with her niece and with the retainers suitable
to such illustrious ladies, and arrived very early on the morning of the
20th of May, the day before the Auto. They lodged in the house of the
Conde de Miranda, and to avoid tiresome visits and awkward questions,
the prudent lady sent Jeromín out and about the streets all day to see
the preparations for the ceremony with her squire Juan Galarza. Jeromín
went off delighted, and certainly nothing was ever seen like the streets
of Valladolid on that 20th day of May. So thronged were they with people
that it was hardly possible for the familiars of the Holy Office, who
ever since the morning had been making the usual proclamation, to force
their way through the crowd. The familiars went on horseback, emblems of
their office in their hands, preceded and followed by "alguaciles," and
surrounded by criers who announced at the street corners the two usual
proclamations, the first forbidding from that moment until the next day
the use of arms defensive or offensive under the pain of excommunication
and the confiscation of the said arms. Equally was prohibited by the
second proclamation, from that time until one hour after the executions,
the circulation of carriages, or litters, chairs, horses, or mules in
the streets where the procession was to pass, or in the Plaza Mayor,
where was the scaffold.

To prevent people entering the square there was a double row of guards.
The finishing touches were being given to the enormous scaffold where
the Auto was to be held, that is to say the reading of the evidence and
the sentences, the only part of the function at which the Court and the
more refined portion of the public were present. Away beyond the gates
guards were also keeping a space on the Great, or Parade, Ground called
the "Quemadero," or the place of burning. To execute the sentences
fifteen small platforms were being made for an equal number of
prisoners. These platforms were very small and rested on the <DW19>s
which were to make the fire, and above them rose a stake with its
pillory, like a modern one. To this the prisoner was tied and killed
before being burnt, as they were not burnt alive except in rare cases of
blasphemy and impenitence. The whole way from the Campo Grande to the
Plaza Mayor; and from there to the street of Pedro Barrueco, now called
Bishop Street, where stood the prisons and houses of the Holy Office,
there was not a corner or square without seats covered in black, for
which the enormous prices of 12, 13, and even 15 reales were paid. In
all the squares and at many of the cross roads pulpits also were
erected, covered in black, where every order of friars preached each day
to the enormous crowd which never ceased moving, all in mourning, all
sad, very similar in appearance to the scene which used to be general,
and still is common, in many places in Spain on Good Friday. The
official mourning, the real compunction of some, and the affected piety
of others covered the indifference of the many, and gave to the whole
concourse an appearance of sadness, even of terror, well in keeping with
the terrible scene which was to be enacted. At four o'clock the sermons
ceased, and in the streets, windows and balconies the crowd grew
greater. The traditional procession called "of the Green Cross" began to
leave the chapel. First walked all the religious communities of
Valladolid and its neighbourhood, the friars two by two, holding lighted
wax torches. Then the commissaries, clerks and familiars of the Holy
Office, then the high officers of the Tribunal, with the secretaries,
mayor and attorney-general, all carrying lighted candles. Last of all
this immense procession, a Dominican friar carried under a canopy of
black velvet a great cross of green wood covered with crape. The choirs
of the chapel intoned the hymn _Vexilla regis prodeunt_, which all the
people answered, alternating the verses. At the street corners from time
to time the voice of some friar was to be heard, imploring Heaven in
vehement language to grant repentance to the prisoners, which the people
answered with ejaculations, groans and prayers. It was rumoured that
among the fifty condemned men only one, the Bachelor of Arts,
Herreruelos, remained obstinate and impenitent.

The procession passed slowly and solemnly through the principal streets,
and late at night found its way back to the Plaza Mayor, where the
scaffold was now finished. Then was prepared an altar on which the Green
Cross was solemnly placed with twelve lighted wax candles. Four
Dominican monks and a company of halberdiers were to watch it all night.




                              CHAPTER XIV


While Jeromín was going about the streets of Valladolid with more
amusement than astonishment or compunction, Doña Magdalena was
congratulating herself on having sent him away from the house.

Shortly after her arrival she received a polite message from Doña Leonor
Mascareñes, lady to Princess Juana, announcing that at half-past three
in the afternoon she would visit her in the name of H.H. the Very Serene
Princess Governess, and would have the honour of kissing hands in her
name. Doña Magdalena replied with the pompous courtesy of those times,
that all hours would be good to receive so signal a favour, and that
she, Doña Leonor's humble servant, returned the honour, kissing her
hands on her knees.

At the hour fixed, and with courtly punctuality, Doña Leonor arrived
with her ladies, pages and squires. She came on foot, as sedan-chairs
were forbidden by the proclamation, and in mourning, as the
circumstances demanded, with a cloth skirt in Castillian fashion, a
crape shawl, gloves and very high black clogs. Doña Leonor was already
past sixty, of a great Portuguese family, and for her virtues, merits
and talents was rightly one of the most respected ladies of the Court.
She had come to Spain as one of the ladies of the Empress Isabel, wife
of the defunct Emperor Charles V, then was governess to Philip II, and
afterwards to Prince Carlos, who was committed to her care by the same
Philip II with these notable words, "This child has no mother; be his as
you were mine."

[Illustration:

  _Photo Casa Thomas, Barcelona_

  DOÑA LEONOR DE MASCAREÑAS

  _From her portrait by Sir Antonio More_
]

Doña Magdalena descended to receive her with all the household at the
foot of the staircase, and here the ladies exchanged the first
courtesies. Doña Magdalena conducted her to the parlour, and then wished
to give her a high seat, while she sat on the carpet; but Doña Leonor
would not consent to this, and tried also to sit on the floor. Each went
on insisting that the other should have the high seat and the other kept
on refusing it, until, after this battle of politeness, both ladies
remained seated on great cushions of equal height.

Then Doña Magdalena caused a collation of sweetmeats, fruits and drinks
to be brought, and offered half a dozen pairs of gloves scented with
ambergris to Doña Leonor in a little box.

The first compliments and courtesies over, Doña Leonor spread out her
fan so as to exclude the duennas who were at the end of the room beyond
the dais, and said in Doña Magdalena's ear, as naturally as possible,
that H.H. the Serene Princess would be pleased if she would kindly
arrange an opportunity the next day for her _to make the acquaintance of
her brother_.

Doña Magdalena had expected this from the moment of her arrival, and
with ingenuous but well-calculated simplicity she told the truth, point
by point. That she did not know what H.H. meant. That the child Jeromín,
to whom no doubt she alluded, was certainly given into the care of her
lord and husband Luis Quijada five years before, as the son of a great
friend whose name he could not reveal to her. As was natural (and with
noble dignity Doña Magdalena accentuated these words) she had never
tried to talk to her husband about the origin of this child, or to
allude by a single word to what he had first written to her from
Brussels. That various suspicions had at times come into her mind, but
that she had been able to stifle them as a Christian, for fear of
forming a judgment without any proof, which would doubtless be rash; and
as to the rumours which went about during the child's stay at Yuste, she
had never listened to them, and certainly had never confirmed them. Here
Doña Magdalena ceased speaking, and, as if by mutual consent, the two
ladies fanned themselves in silence for some time. The Portuguese was as
good as she was clever, and she needed no more to understand that her
exploring expedition was at an end. Her noble nature could appreciate
this simple account of Doña Magdalena's, the wife's dignity, the lady's
delicacy, and the Christian's absolute rectitude, and her native
perspicacity, sharpened by years at Court, made her understand that Doña
Magdalena knew no more about Jeromín, nor would it be possible to
extract another word beyond what Luis Quijada had told everyone.

However, Doña Leonor wished to fulfil all her mistress's commission, and
asked with much delicacy if it would be possible to see the child,
because H.H. wished to be prepared, in some degree, for the meeting
which was to take place the next day, that surprise or fear should not
make her do something imprudent.

Doña Magdalena answered that she was sincerely sorry, but she could not
gratify H.H., because the child Jeromín had gone out with a squire to
see the procession of the Green Cross, and she did not expect that he
would be back in time; but if it would be of service to H.H. she would
be careful to let her know as much as was prudent.

It seemed most prudent to Doña Magdalena not to say a word to Jeromín
about the occurrence, or prematurely to arouse fantastic or ambitious
ideas in his mind which was sleeping peacefully, but to let it rest in
quiet and allow the boy's innocence and natural vivacity to inspire
them, or as the Divine Majesty should ordain.

All the stars in the sky were shining when Doña Magdalena and her niece
left her house, she holding Jeromín by the hand, dressed as a peasant,
as the Princess had arranged. The two ladies were covered by ample black
shawls which almost hid their faces, and were dressed underneath in
mourning, but also with jewels, as was the custom of ladies at Court.
Accompanied by very trustworthy servants, and following the same
railed-off way as the prisoners, they arrived without much difficulty at
the Plaza Mayor, in spite of the great crowds.

It was not yet half-past four in the morning, and already among the
seething mass of humanity there was not an empty spot, except in the
centre of the platform, where the prisoners were to be placed, and the
passage, or wide balcony, of the Casas Consistoriales, which was
reserved for the royalties and their numerous suite. At the extreme end
of this passage the Princess had ordered that a good seat should be kept
for Doña Magdalena, calculating that, as she must naturally pass by
there to get to the throne, she could stop and speak to Doña Magdalena
and see the child without attracting too much attention. Doña Magdalena
had also made her plans: she made Jeromín sit on the ground between her
chair and that of Doña Mariana, and covered his little person completely
in the lady's shawl, so that no one passing would notice the presence of
the child. Jeromín, very much amused, put out his little head from among
the folds of the shawl, and looked between the ironwork of the balcony,
asking a thousand questions about what he saw and what he hoped to see.
In the centre of the balcony of the Consistory, which ran all along the
front, there were two rich canopies of maroon velvet and lace of frosted
silver and gold, with two large thrones under them for the Princess
Governess and D. Carlos. Right and left the balcony was divided into
stands destined for the Councillors, the Chancellory, the University,
the Grandees, the ladies of the Palace and the servants of the Princes.
In the first of these stands, on the entrance side, was where Jeromín
and the two ladies were seated.

In front of the Consistory, and back to back with the convent of San
Francisco, the magnificent, high scaffold was raised, enclosed by
balustrades and railings. It consisted of two stories, an upper and a
lower one, in the form of a triangle. In the centre of the front was the
altar, on which the Green Cross had been placed the night before between
two tapers of white wax whose light paled before that of the dawn. The
four Dominicans and the company of halberdiers were still guarding it.
Right and left of the altar there were steps for the condemned and a
pulpit for the preacher. The platform underneath was destined for the
ministers of the Holy Office, and at each end had two tribunes for the
reading of the trials and sentences, and another in the middle, but much
taller, from which each prisoner heard his sentence read.

From the scaffold ran a sort of enclosure of wood, very similar to those
that are used to bring bulls into towns with safety, which stretched to
the prisons of the Inquisition, to keep the way clear for the prisoners.
The rest of the square was covered with more than two hundred small
stands, let to the curious, which at five in the morning already could
not hold another person. At this hour the royal guard arrived on foot,
opening a path among the packed crowd for the royal suite. First came
slowly and solemnly the Council of Castille, then the Grandees, the
Constable and Admiral among them, the Marquéses de Astorga and Denia,
the Condes de Miranda, Osorno, Nieva, Módica, Sadaña, Monteagudo, Lerma,
Ribadeo, and Andrade. D. García de Toledo, tutor to the Prince, the
Archbishops of Santiago and Seville, and the Bishops of Palencia and
Ciudad Rodrigo, which last was the famous and worthy D. Pedro de la
Gasca.

The Princess's ladies followed in two rows, all in mourning, but richly
adorned with jewels, and behind them, as if presiding over them, the
Marqués de Sarria, Lord Steward to the Princess, and Doña Leonor
Mascareñes, who was, or was then acting as, Camarera Mayor.

Then came two mace-bearers with golden maces on their shoulders, four
kings-at-arms with dalmatics of crimson velvet embroidered, front and
back, with the royal arms. The Conde de Buendía with a naked sword, and,
immediately behind him, Princess Juana and Prince Carlos; she dressed in
a skirt of mourning stripe, shawl and head-dress of black crape, a
bodice of satin, white gloves and a black and gold fan in her hand; he
with cloak and jacket also striped, woollen stockings, velvet breeches,
a cloth cap, sword and gloves. The procession was closed by the royal
guard on horseback with drums and fifes.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Anderson_

  INFANTA JUANA OF SPAIN

  _By Sir Antonio More. Prado Gallery, Madrid_
]

In this order the suite entered the Consistory and filed past Doña
Magdalena in the passage, each to go to their respective places. The
lady stood up to let them pass, hiding her niece with her person. Doña
Mariana was sitting with Jeromín on her knees, covered entirely by the
shawl. She had told him, to cover this manœuvre, that children were not
allowed in this place, and that as soon as the Court had passed she
would put him where he would see everything. Jeromín obeyed without any
outward sign of suspicion, but remembering, perhaps, his adventures in
the convent of Descalzos, where such care had been taken not to let a
certain great person see him.

When the Princess passed Doña Magdalena in the narrow passage, she
stopped for a moment and held out her hand; the lady kissed it kneeling,
then the Princess said quickly and softly, "Where is the wrapped-up
one?"

Then Doña Magdalena opened the shawl and Jeromín appeared, cap in hand,
the fair hair all untidy from the shawl, and with an attractive look of
annoyance on the pretty face which added to his natural charm. A ray of
tenderness illuminated the Princess's beautiful face, and, without
remembering who she was or where she was, she embraced him, kissing him
several times on both cheeks.

Prince Carlos had also stopped, and looked with astonishment at the
little peasant his aunt was kissing, but when he saw the Princess make
as if she would take the child with her to the throne, he reproved her
harshly and angrily, according to his usual bad habit.

Jeromín, on hearing him, abruptly left the Princess, and clinging on to
Doña Magdalena's skirt said, much ruffled, "I prefer to stay with my
aunt."

The Princess insisted; D. Carlos began again to chide her, and Jeromín,
looking him up and down from head to foot, said again with greater
firmness, "I prefer to stay with my aunt."

All this took less time to happen than it takes to tell, but it was long
enough for many people to understand, and for the gossips to guess the
riddle. From one end to the other of the balcony, and then into the
square, the news spread that a son of the dead Emperor was there in the
Consistory, in one of the Court seats.




                               CHAPTER XV


The arrival of the prisoners completely distracted everyone's attention,
and so absorbed were they that it seemed as if that dense crowd hardly
breathed.

Then clearly were heard the bells of the Holy Office, which tolled sadly
to announce that the prisoners had started, and the first thing to
appear in the square was the parochial cross of Salvador, with a black
handle, and two acolytes with candlesticks. Then came two long rows of
devout penitents with lighted torches, among whom were noble gentlemen
and a few Grandees. Between these two lines, and about thirty paces from
the parochial cross, came the Attorney-General of the Holy Office,
Jerónimo de Ramírez, carrying the standard of the Holy Inquisition, of
crimson damask with the black and white shield of the Order of St.
Dominic and the Royal Arms embroidered in gold; on its two extremities
these inscriptions could be read: _Exsurge Domine, et judica causam
tuam_—_Ad deripiendos inimicos fidei_.

Behind the standard followed the prisoners, about a dozen steps one from
the other, and guarded each by two familiars of the Holy Office and four
soldiers. The first was D. Augustin Cazalla, cleric, preacher and
chaplain to His Majesty; a man of about fifty, now weak and shrunken,
and stooping forward as if overcome by the weight of his sorrow and
shame. He was wearing the ignominious "sanbenito," a sort of chasuble
made of yellow baize, with a vivid green cross on the chest; on his head
the ignoble "coroza" painted with flames and devils, and a lighted taper
of green wax in his hand.

Behind him came in the following order, his brother Francisco de Vibero,
also a cleric, who did not repent until the last moment, and who was
gagged to silence his dreadful blasphemies; their sister Doña Beatriz de
Vibero, a devout woman of rare beauty; the master Alonso Pérez, cleric
of Palencia, the silversmith Juan García, Cristóbal de Campo, the
Bachelor of Arts Antonio Herrezuelo, also gagged, and impenitent to the
last, and for this the only one to perish in the flames; Cristóbal de
Padilla, a native of Zamora, Doña Catalina de Ortega, widow of the
captain Loaysa, the licentiate Calahorra, Alcalde Mayor in the
employment of the Bishop, Catalina Román, Isabel Estrada, Juan
Velásquez, and Gonzalo Baez, a Portuguese, and not a Lutheran heretic,
but a Jew.

These were all condemned to be garrotted and their corpses burnt, and
for this reason they had flames painted on their sanbenitos and corozas.
Behind them two familiars of the Holy Office carried on a stretcher the
shapeless figure of a woman, also dressed with a coroza and sanbenito,
the bones of Doña Leonor de Vibero, mother of the Cazallas, exhumed from
the monastery of San Benito, to be burnt with her effigy. Behind this
first group came, guarded in the same manner, another sixteen prisoners,
men and women, condemned to various punishments, but not to death, for
which reason they did not wear the corozas or flames on their
sanbenitos; the men went bareheaded, and the women with a piece of linen
on their head to hide their shame. The most noteworthy among them were
D. Pedro Sarmiento, Commander of the Order of Alcantara, and a relation
of the Admiral, and his wife Doña Mencia de Figueroa, who had been a
lady of the Court; he was condemned to forfeit the robes of his Order
and Commandery, to perpetual prison and the sanbenito, with the
necessity of hearing mass and a sermon on Sunday, and to communicate on
the three great feasts, and forbidden to use silk, gold, silver, horses,
and jewels; she was only condemned to perpetual prison and the wearing
of the sanbenito.

When Doña Mencia mounted the platform the ladies of the Court burst into
tears, and the Princess herself hurriedly left and went inside, wiping
her eyes with a handkerchief. The Marqués de Poza, D. Luis de Rojas,
also inspired deep pity, a gay boy, exiled for ever from the Court, and
deprived of all the honours of a gentleman; and even more Doña Ana
Enriquez, daughter of the Marqués de Alcañices, a girl of great beauty,
who was sentenced to leave the platform with sanbenito and taper, to
fast for three days, to return with her dress to the prison, and then go
free. Such was the repentance and confusion of this lady that, mounting
the tribune to hear her sentence, her strength left her, and she would
have fallen from the platform, had not a son of the Duque de Gandia, who
was there as a devout penitent, supported her.

The prisoners were placed on the steps in the order arranged, those
condemned to death separated from the others, and the Auto was begun by
a young Dominican brother, of ruddy complexion, and rapid and violent in
his marvellous eloquence, mounting the centre pulpit. It was the
celebrated Maestro Fr. Melchor Cano, one of the most learned men of his
time, and he preached for more than an hour on the text of St. Matthew,
"Flee from false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but
inwardly they are ravening wolves."

The sermon ended, the Archbishop of Seville, Valdéz, the Inquisitor of
Valladolid, Vaca, and his secretary mounted the throne to submit the
oath to the Prince and Princess. The Archbishop carried a beautiful
cross of gold and jewels, the Inquisitor a missal, and the secretary the
form of the oath written on parchment. Standing up, the Prince and
Princess, D. Carlos cap in hand, swore by the cross and missal in these
words, which the secretary read: "That as Catholic Princes they would
defend with all might and life the Catholic faith as held and believed
by the Holy Mother Church Apostolic of Rome, and its conservation and
increase; that they would give all the necessary favour and help to the
Holy Office of the Inquisition and its ministers, that heretics,
disturbers of the Christian religion which they professed, should be
punished according to the Apostolic decrees and sacred canons, without
omission on their part or making any exception." "El Relator" Juan de
Ortega then read this same formula to the people from one of the
tribunes of the lower platform, crying first three times, "Oyez! Oyez!
Oyez!"

And the people, with the vehemence of conviction and the haste of those
who have received a warning, answered with one voice, with one cry of
fear and conviction, "Yes, we swear."

Then the same "Relator," Juan de Ortega, and the clerk of Toledo, Juan
de Vergara, ascended the two tribunes on the platform, and began to read
alternately, the trials and convictions of the prisoners beginning with
Dr. Cazalla. From a high pulpit each heard his own sentence read, and
remained all the time with a lighted taper of green wax in his hand,
exposed to public shame. Then it was that Doña Ana de Enriquez nearly
fell out of the pulpit overwhelmed with confusion.

At four o'clock in the afternoon the reading was ended. Then the
Archbishop of Seville put on his pontifical vestments, and solemnly
absolved and restored to the bosom of the Church the sixteen reconciled
prisoners, who were then taken back to their respective cells. The other
fourteen, who were condemned to death, left at the same time, some
walking, others riding on donkeys, to be garrotted, and afterwards burnt
on the Parade Ground.

Such was then an Auto da Fe, certainly a sad and sorrowful sight, but
still, perhaps not so emotional as the sight of certain trials to which
in our day the public flock, not to sanction by their presence the
judgment and justice nor as a warning lesson, but greedy to see the
seamy side of sorrow and crime. As to the horrible scenes of the
"Quemadero" (the burning), no one attended them but those obliged by
their office, and a public low and ignorant, no doubt, and for this
reason much more blameless than those who nowadays attend our
executions, full of unhealthy curiosity or cold indifference. There is
no doubt, says the profound thinker Balmes, that, if the doctrine of
those who wish to abolish the death penalty should ever become
effective, when posterity reads of the executions of our days, they will
be as horrified as we are over those of the past. The gallows, garrotte
and the guillotine will be placed on a par with the ancient
"Quemaderos."

Tired by the long wait and the dull reading, Jeromín ended by falling
asleep, his head leaning against Doña Magdalena's knees, but he woke up
in the midst of a strange tumult, of which he was far from knowing that
he was the cause. This is how Vander Hammen describes the scene: "At it
(the Auto) the greater part of Old Castille was present, and a great
number of Andalucians and those from New Castille, and as the news
spread about everywhere of the new son of Charles V, a little more and
there would have been a serious disaster, as everyone wanted to see him
and the guards could not check them.

"The people threw themselves on each other without minding the halberds,
javelins or arquebuses. It came to this, that the Conde de Osorno had to
carry him in his arms to the Princess's carriage, because everyone liked
him. In it the sister took him to the Palace (the house of the Conde de
Benavente), followed by a crowd of people, and from there he went back
with Doña Magdalena to her Villagarcia."

All the same, Vander Hammen is wrong in what he says about the Princess
and other things. The Conde de Osorno did, it is true, take Jeromín and
lift him up to show him to the people, but he did not give him into the
Princess's charge, nor did she commit the imprudence of taking him with
her to the Palace. He gave him into Doña Magdalena's care, from whom he
had got separated in the confusion, and this lady took him back the same
night to Villagarcia.

The child, frightened by the tumult, whose cause he did not suspect,
asked with rather timid anxiety whether the heretics had escaped.




                              CHAPTER XVI


After an absence of five years Philip II at last returned to Spain and
disembarked at Laredo on the 8th of September, 1559. Six days later he
made his entry into Valladolid, and the following day his sister
Princess Juana made over to him the government of the kingdom, and
retired to the convent of Abrojo, about a league away. She and Philip
were not long separated, as on the 21st, the first anniversary of the
Emperor's death, he caused solemn services for the eternal repose of the
Emperor's soul to be celebrated in the same convent.

Meanwhile Luis Quijada awaited at Villagarcia with real anxiety the
King's promised decision about Jeromín, which would so much affect the
whole family. But the King settled nothing, and the former steward,
accustomed to the promptness of the Emperor, who with the inspiration of
genius saw, ordered, thought and resolved all in a second, that which
more common intelligence would require months to decide, began to
despair and could not reconcile himself to D. Philip's slow parsimony.

Philip, however, had not forgotten his brother, as is proved by the
famous state council of which Antonio Pérez speaks in one of his letters
to Gil de Mesa: "That they were so divided, having taken sides on the
subject, these great councillors, each to his own end, but with
arguments about the service of the King, whether the Catholic King
Philip ought to follow his father's wish about the position of his
brother." This last an invention, no doubt, of the crafty secretary
Pérez, as none of the councillors, much less Philip II, could quibble in
any way about what the Emperor had not _counselled_ but _ordered_ in his
will with regard to his bastard son.

At last Luis Quijada received a message from the King ordering him to go
to the mountain of Torozos on the 28th of September, making hunting the
excuse, and taking Jeromín with him, dressed as usual like a peasant;
that they were to go towards the monastery of the Espina, and that about
midday he would meet them between the monastery and the forester's
tower. He also told Quijada to say nothing to the child to enlighten
him, as he wished to do this himself.

What generally happens befell Luis Quijada: the realisation of that
which we have most desired fills us with sadness and disappointment.
Certainly for him had come the hour of reward, for the Emperor, who was
never very generous, had not granted him any favour, leaving only the
recommendation to his son to pay, in his name, this very real debt. But
at the same time had come the hour for separating from Jeromín, and
tearing him from Doña Magdalena who adored him, while as for himself, he
had become accustomed to seeing the boy the object of his affection and
care, and the living recollection of the Emperor, reincarnate in this
attractive little figure, capable for this reason alone of winning all
hearts. At this thought the eyes of the fierce victor of Hesdin filled
with tears.

At first he thought to spare Doña Magdalena this sorrow until the last
moment; but men are weak about troubles, and as in other things they
trust proudly to themselves, so in sorrow they seek the aid of a woman,
weaker than they are in everything but suffering, because they more
often seek the virtue of fortitude from God. So not even until night
could Quijada wait, but that same afternoon he called Doña Magdalena to
a retired spot, and there told her everything about Jeromín, from the
moment that the Emperor had revealed to him the secret of his birth. The
husband and wife had never talked about this, and they might well wonder
at each other, she at his loyalty and abnegation, which had kept him
silent about so weighty a secret; he, at her prudence and delicacy in
asking no questions, nor investigating that which had so much mortified
her. Doña Magdalena did not think of herself for a moment. She well
understood everything, and knew how to estimate everything from its true
point of view, but one thing only filled her heart with fear—Jeromín,
her dear son, for so she considered him, at thirteen was going to
experience one of those sudden changes of fortune which are enough to
turn the wisest head. That in a few days the child would find himself at
the height of fortune, but exiled from all affection, alone, envied, and
perhaps envious, without her to defend the youthful soul, as in his
childhood she had done against bad natural inclinations and vexations of
vice and sin.

Doña Magdalena had no sudden inspirations of genius, but she had good
ideas, and she proposed to Quijada without a moment's hesitation not to
abandon the boy, but to follow him to Madrid, sacrificing her quiet life
at Villagarcia in exchange for looking after him if only from afar, and
not to leave him suddenly and so young among the tumult and dangers of a
Court. Quijada thought that his wife had guessed what was passing in his
mind, as it was what he had himself been considering; but it seemed idle
to make any decided plans until they knew those of the King for Jeromín
and for the person of Quijada himself.

Hunting expeditions were too frequent at Villagarcia for the simple
preparations that Quijada ordered for the 28th of September at Torozos
to call for much attention from Jeromín. Quijada wished to arrange
everything well and prevent the eleventh-hour inconveniences which
sometimes spoil the best-laid plot. He called his huntsman aside, and
ordered him to prepare two or three beats the first thing the next
morning, and real or false scents to draw them towards the monastery of
the Espinas, as he was obliged to be between the convent and the
forester's tower at midday.

At dawn Quijada and Jeromín set out, with no more than the necessary
huntsmen and hounds. Jeromín was riding a black horse, and wore over his
peasant's dress a loose coat of green "monte." They hunted until ten
o'clock, having very good sport, and at that hour the huntsman announced
that the hounds were on the scent of a stag heading towards Espina.
Quijada and Jeromín followed penetrating into the country, which became
more and more solitary, until the hounds suddenly stopped breathless
and, questing about as if they had lost the scent, then started off on a
cross scent on the opposite side. At the same time, from that direction
came the sound of horns and a great noise of calling and shouting, and
like an arrow a noble stag was seen passing between the ilex trees,
another excited pack of hounds, and a lot of hunters who were following.

Luis Quijada sat still on his horse, and said to Jeromín, who was
attentively looking at the disappearing hunters, "Those are the King's
huntsmen. Let us leave them the mountain." So they then changed their
course towards an open space which had been made by the felling of some
oaks, and to the right they saw the forester's tower, and to the left
the walls of the convent, and between the two edifices a spinney of
about a hundred oak trees, which had been left to afford shade for the
animals called "_atalayas_." From these trees came two gentlemen, riding
slowly as if they were waiting for something, or were talking quietly.

Jeromín saw them first, and called Quijada's attention to them while
they continued riding towards them as if he intended to meet them.
Suddenly Jeromín stopped short; he had recognised in one of the riders
the man with a hooked nose and long beard whom he had seen in the garden
of the Descalzos in Valladolid five years before.

Quijada also stopped, and turning in the saddle towards Jeromín, who
remained behind him, said with a certain emotion foreign to the calm
man, "Come up, Jeromín, and do not let this dismay you. The great lord
whom you see is the King; the other the Duque de Alba. Do not be
frightened, I say, because he wishes you well and intends to confer
favours on you."

The two riders had come up, followed at a long distance by two others
who appeared to be huntsmen belonging to the convent. Jeromín had no
time to answer; but he recognised in the King the fair, pale young man
with the beard cut in the Flemish fashion whom he had seen cross the
square of Valladolid, among the shouts of the people, when he looked
from the rose window of the sacristy of the Descalzos. The five years
that had since passed had, without ageing him, given gravity to his face
and repose to his manners. D. Philip was at this time thirty-two.

Those from Villagarcia alighted and went to kiss the King's hand,
kneeling on one knee. The King stretched out his hand to Quijada without
dismounting; but Jeromín was so small that he could not accomplish this
part of the ceremony in this humble posture. So the King dismounted and,
laughing gaily, gave him his hand to kiss, and taking Jeromín by the
chin, looked at him up and down for a long time with great curiosity, as
if he would embarrass the boy. But he did not succeed, however; nor was
Jeromín the timid, frightened child who had gone to Yuste, nor had D.
Philip ever for him the halo of the supernatural with which his
imagination always surrounded the person of Charles V.

Then the King asked Jeromín many questions, which the boy answered
brightly with much modest composure, but without shyness. Then he went
with Quijada towards the oak spinney, leaving the boy alone with the man
with the hooked nose and long beard who Quijada had said was the Duque
de Alba. The huntsmen had taken the horses, and were waiting at a
respectful distance.

Jeromín felt shy at finding himself alone with the grave magnate who
stood respectfully at his side, with his cap in his hand. This seemed
very odd to Jeromín, as the King had gone away and was even lost to
sight among the trees, and this humble attitude in so great a personage
worried him.

The Duque at last broke this embarrassing silence, asking Jeromín after
Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, and saying much in praise of her talents and
virtues; which so pleased the child that the ice was at once broken and
sympathy established between the famous commander and the innocent boy.

Meanwhile D. Philip was getting detailed information about Jeromín's
character and qualities from Quijada, and was confiding to him and
asking his advice about some of his plans for the child.

It was his intention to acknowledge him publicly as the Emperor's son
and his own brother, and to give him the rank of Infante at Court
without the name, and for him to be addressed only as Excellency. He had
already formed an household with this object, and thought of educating
him with his son D. Carlos and his nephew Alexander Farnese, in order
that the good qualities of Alexander and Jeromín might arouse emulation
in the weak and not over well-disposed nature of D. Carlos.

But for all this the help of Luis Quijada and his wife was necessary,
because it was certain that the abrupt change of fortune might be the
ruin of Jeromín, if he had not at his side to advise and correct him the
same persons who had so happily guided his first steps. For this reason
D. Philip wished that Quijada should go as his tutor to Court with
Jeromín to look after him and his house, and that Doña Magdalena should
go, too, to love and watch over him as a mother; a charge, said D.
Philip, which would be neither recognised at, nor rewarded by, the
Court, but which God and the King would thank them for and repay with
bountifulness. And to make a still greater link between Jeromín and D.
Carlos, and that the latter should benefit by the moral advantages the
former had enjoyed, the King also wished Quijada to accept the office of
Master of the Horse to the Prince; and to warrant this office and also
to help with his expenses, the King offered him to have the Commandery
of Morals of the Order of Calatrava very shortly, and to give him at
once the post of Councillor of State and of War. Delighted, Quijada
accepted everything which fulfilled all his expectations, and also the
wishes of Doña Magdalena, as if the King had consulted them beforehand.
D. Philip was also pleased, and giving way to his excessive love of
details, he gave Quijada a paper on which were the names of the people
who were to form Jeromín's household, and gave him entire liberty to
make any observations that occurred to him, because the King was ready
to modify, or even to change completely, anything that Quijada and Doña
Magdalena judged necessary for the well-being of the child.

These were the names of the household:

    Luis Quijada, Tutor and Master of the Household.

    The Conde de Priego D. Fernando Carrillo, Lord Steward.

    D. Luis de Cordóba, Master of the Horse.

    D. Rodrigo Benavides, brother to the Conde de Santestiban,
    Chamberlain.

    D. Rodrigo de Mendoza, Lord of Lodosa, Steward.

    D. Juan de Guzmán, D. Pedro Zapata de Cordóba, and D. Jose de
    Acuña, Gentlemen of the Bedchamber.

    Juan de Quiroga, Secretary.

    Jorge de Lima and Juan de Toro, Valets.

    D. Luis Carillo, eldest son of the Conde de Priego, Captain of
    his Guard, which was to be half Spanish and half German.

When this list was approved by Quijada in his own name and that of Doña
Magdalena, the King gave the final order. That two days afterwards, that
is to say on the 1st of October, Jeromín was to be established in
Valladolid with the Quijadas in a house which Doña Magdalena owned
opposite that of the Conde de Rivadeo, which was henceforth to be the
residence of the new prince; and that on the 2nd, at midday, Luis
Quijada was secretly to bring Jeromín to the Palace, so that after
dinner the King could present him to the Princess Juana and Prince
Carlos, and acknowledge him as a brother before all the Court. The time
and place to publish this acknowledgment throughout the kingdom would be
determined later.

The King and Quijada talked for more than an hour, walking under the
shade of the guardian oak trees, and when they emerged into the light
not the perspicacity of even such an accomplished courtier as the Duque
de Alba could have guessed from their faces what had passed between
them. On reaching Jeromín and the Duque the King said to Quijada, "It
will now be necessary to take the bandage off the boy's eyes." Then,
turning to Jeromín, he asked him pleasant and even joking questions,
and, as if recollecting something, all at once he said very kindly, "And
with all this, Sir Peasant, you have never even told me your name."
"Jeromín," answered the boy. "He was a great saint, but it must be
altered. And do you know who your father was?"

Jeromín blushed up to his eyes and looked at the King, half indignant
and half tearful, as it seemed to him an affront which had no answer. D.
Philip then was touched, and putting his hand on the boy's shoulder,
said with simple majesty, "Courage, my child, as I can tell you. The
Emperor, my lord and father, was also yours, and for this I recognise
and love you as a brother." And he tenderly embraced him without other
witnesses than Quijada and the Duque de Alba. The huntsmen saw the scene
from afar off, without realising what was happening. The baying of the
hounds and gay fanfare on the horns announced in the distance that the
hunters were returning after a successful chase.

Stupefied by this revelation Jeromín got on his horse, Luis Quijada
holding his stirrup. On the homeward journey to Villagarcia he only once
opened his lips, and turning round to Quijada, who followed, asked, "And
my aunt, does she know?" "Everything," answered Quijada.

Jeromín hurried his steps as if he would be late getting to the castle,
and running through the courts and up the stairs, he arrived at the
parlour, opening and slamming the doors. Doña Magdalena was there alone
and very pale. The child went to her, and took her hand to kiss it.
"Aunt! Aunt!" "My lord, your Highness is no nephew of mine," answered
the lady. And she tried to kiss his hands, and set him in her big chair
while she sat on the carpet.

But the child, beside himself, cried with great energy that made his
voice, all choked with tears, quite hoarse:

"No! No! My aunt, my aunt, my mother." And he kissed her tearfully,
miserable and angry all at the same time, as one who cries for something
lost through his own fault, and by force made her sit in the chair, and
would not be silent or calm until he sat at her feet with his head
leaning against her knee, making her promise a thousand times that she
would always be his _aunt_, and that she would never leave off being his
mother.

This all happened on a Thursday, and the following Monday, which was the
2nd of October, the acknowledgment of Jeromín took place in the Palace
of Valladolid, as the King, D. Philip, had arranged. It is related thus
in a manuscript, quoted by Gachard in the Maggliabecchiana library in
Florence:

    "Thursday, the 8th of September, it reached the lords of the
    Holy Office that the King would not go before he had seen the
    act, and so then they had it proclaimed for the 8th of October.
    And thus the King went to la Spina, and there they brought his
    half-brother, and he was pleased to see him, as he is handsome
    and sensible, and he ordered that he should be brought secretly
    to his house. And thus, the following Monday, he made everyone
    in the Palace recognise him as his brother, and embraced and
    kissed him, then his sister, then his son, and then the rest of
    the black cloaks."

It is, therefore, not true what Vander Hammen says of Philip giving his
brother the Golden Fleece, either at Torozos or in the Palace of
Valladolid. What really happened at this second interview was that the
King gave his brother the family name, and changed his name of Jeromín
for that of John, creating that which has descended to posterity
surrounded by rays of genius and glory—Don John of Austria.




                                BOOK II

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                               CHAPTER I


The change of Jeromín into D. John of Austria was so natural and
spontaneous that no one asked how a peasant could have turned into such
an accomplished prince; but rather, how such a sublime personage could
have been hidden for so long under such a humble disguise.

The undeniable law of heredity had without doubt impressed the august
seal of his race on the child; the extreme tact with which God had
endowed him, and the counsels of such a finished courtier as Luis
Quijada and such a refined, great lady as Doña Magdalena, had easily
accomplished the miracle.

He was received by the public with enthusiasm, by the Court with
respect, and with real brotherly affection by the Royal Family. The
King, pleased with his work, began to hope for great results from it;
Princess Juana opened her arms and heart with all the frankness and
goodness of her beautiful nature; and even Prince Carlos, who was hard
and suspicious of his relations, from the first moment was affectionate.
He called D. John apart one day with much mystery, and, taking a paper
from his breast, made him swear that he would follow Prince Carlos to
war whenever the time came. D. John promised, and the Prince, satisfied,
gave him a jewel with a big emerald for his cap.

But from the moment of his presentation at Court D. John met what we
should call, but which was not so called in his days, a _twin soul_ in
his nephew Alexander Farnese, who, from the first, shared his studies
and his childish games, as later he shared D. John's labours, triumphs,
joys and sorrows.

The King had convened the Cortes in Toledo for the 9th of December, with
the idea of causing his son D. Carlos to be sworn as Prince of the
Asturias, and it seemed to him an opportune moment for presenting D.
John as a royal prince in the official proceedings of the Court.

The ceremony was fixed for the 22nd of February, 1560, and on the 12th
the new Queen Isabel de Valois, rightly called "of the Peace," Philip
II's third wife, made her first triumphant entry into Toledo. She came
by the Gate of Visagra, riding a white hackney, under a brocaded canopy
with an embroidered fringe, and on the shields an "F" and "I," initials
of Philip and Isabel. There were great festivities, which were
interrupted by the Queen having a slight attack of smallpox, which is
why she did not attend the function. On the eve of this ceremony
Princess Juana sent her brother D. John a very beautiful suit, begging
him to wear it the next day. The good Princess had herself settled and
chosen the colours and trimmings, as she judged would best set off the
good looks of the youth: a jacket and gown of deep red velvet, richly
embroidered with gold and silver thread, and magnificent diamond
buttons.

The oath was to be taken in the Cathedral, at that time orphaned of its
Archbishop—who was the celebrated F. Bartolomé de Carranza, whom we have
already met waiting on the last moments of the Emperor.

But the storm which was gathering over the unfortunate prelate had
already burst in all its fury, and he lay, ex-communicated, in the
rigorous prisons of the Holy Office.

In the absence of the Archbishop, the King addressed himself to the
Chapter, who fulfilled his wishes with pomp and magnificence worthy of
the archiepiscopal church. The whole "trascoro" was hung with brocaded
cloths, and at the end of the nave was erected a platform forty feet
square, with eight steps, all covered with a costly carpet and
surrounded by a gilt balustrade. At the back of the platform rose a
sumptuous altar covered with gold brocade, and adorned with the richest
jewels of the Cathedral treasury. On the right a great canopy covered
three thrones with faldstools and cushions, also of gold brocade; the
centre one was for the King, the right-hand one for Princess Juana, and
the left-hand one for Prince Carlos; at Princess Juana's side, but
beyond the canopy, there was a seat, also of gold brocade, for D. John
of Austria.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Anderson_

  ALEXANDER FARNESE, PRINCE OF PARMA

  _Parmigiano, Museo Nazionale, Naples_
]

Before the altar was a throne of crimson velvet for the Cardinal-Bishop
of Burgos, who was to receive the oath, and at his side a little table,
with a cushion in front of it, all covered with velvet, where the oath
was to be taken upon a gold cross and an open copy of the Gospels. Right
and left of the nave, and at the foot of the platform, extended many
rows of seats, some with backs and some without, according to the rank
of those who were to occupy them, Ambassadors of Foreign Powers,
Bishops, Grandees, Castillian nobles, and members of the Cortes. The
centre of the nave was empty, but in its entrances and at the ends, also
in the seats raised above the nave, there was a dense crowd.

The first to arrive at the Cathedral, at half-past eight in the morning,
was the Cardinal-Bishop of Burgos, in his Cardinal's hat and cloak; he
came riding a white mule, with purple trappings, which was led by two
deacons, and before him went the pastoral cross, although he was not in
his own diocese. He was preceded and followed by all his household and a
great following of canons and gentlemen of the town, who made a brave
show. This person was D. Francisco Hurtado Mendoza y Bobadilla, son of
the Marqués de Cañete, D. Diego, and grandson, through his mother Doña
Beatriz de Bobadilla, of the celebrated Marquesa de Moya, favourite
lady-in-waiting to the great "Reina Católica." He was much esteemed by
Philip II for his virtues and learning, and as the author of the
celebrated memorial presented soon after this date to the King, which
has come down to posterity as a curious book, now rare, called "El Tizón
de la Nobleza." The Cardinal dismounted at the door "del Perdón," where,
arrayed in their pontificals, the Archbishops of Seville and Granada,
and the Bishops of Avila and Pamplona received him.

The Court arrived a quarter of an hour later. First came the Prince of
Parma, Alexander Farnese, with the Admiral of Castille, the Condes of
Benavente and de Ureña, the Duques of Nájera, Alba, and Francavila, the
Marquéses of Denia, Villena, Cañete, Mondejar, and Camares; the Maistre
of Montesa, the Prior of St. Juan en Castilla and en León, and many
other great lords, whose magnificence and luxury as regards their
clothes, harness, and mounts were so great that the value of the
trappings alone amounted to two thousand ducats, without counting that
of the jewels and pearls; these were all embroidered like the clothes
with gold thread, because ornaments of gold plates, being more showy,
had been given up by the dandies as being vulgar.

Behind this brilliant, dazzling group Prince Carlos and D. John came
together, surrounded by all the officers of their respective households,
and the good looks of the latter formed a great contrast to the worn and
deformed figure of the former. The Prince was pale to lividness from a
quartan fever, and all the magnificence of his dress could not
completely hide his crooked shoulders, the deformity of his back, or the
unequal length of his legs. His dress was of dark grey cloth of gold
with pearl and diamond buttons, and he rode a horse with rich trappings,
the horse-cloth embroidered on grey cloth of gold to match his clothes.
D. John's horse was black, and his trappings and horse-cloth were of
velvet and gold, to match the costume, which we have already said was a
present from his sister Princess Juana.

This illustrious and saintly Princess came behind them in a litter,
surrounded and followed by her ladies, all on horseback, on silver
saddles, gorgeously dressed, and attended by pages, and "delighted,"
according to Luis Cabrera de Córdoba, "to come without the French
ladies, who, as the Queen was ill of smallpox, did not appear at the
solemnity." In honour of the occasion the Princess had changed her usual
simple dress for one of black velvet, with a few jewels and pearls in
the head-dress.

Last came the King, preceded by the four kings-at-arms, four archers,
and four mace-bearers, all riding, and in front the Conde de Oropesa,
also riding, uncovered, and holding the symbolical Sword of Justice
naked at his shoulder. Luis Cabrera says, "He had begged the King, as he
was ill and the weather was cold, to be allowed to wear a little cap,
which was agreed to. Observing that he was tall, and being annoyed, he
(the King) ordered him to uncover, but he objected, because permission
had been granted, which did not seem to him a great thing. The King
never allowed anyone to usurp precedence or place which was not due to
their office or rank, even if it was inconvenient."

After Pontifical Mass had been said by the Cardinal of Burgos, the King
seated himself in the chair where he was to receive the oath, the Duque
de Alba, with his staff in his hand as Lord Steward to the King,
standing on the Cardinal's right hand, and on the left the Conde de
Oropesa, as bearer of the symbolical Sword of Justice, which rested
naked on his shoulder. Then the oldest king-at-arms mounted on the
platform, and bowed first to the altar and then to the King, proclaiming
on the Gospel side, "Oyez, Oyez, Oyez! The writing which will be read to
you of the oath of homage and fidelity, which the Very Serene Lady the
Infanta Doña Juana, here present, and the very illustrious Lord D. John
of Austria and the Prelates, Grandees, gentlemen, and members of the
Cortes of these realms, who by the command of the King, our Lord, are
here present to-day, make to His Very Serene and Very Illustrious Prince
D. Carlos, eldest son of H.M., as Prince of these realms during the long
and happy days of H.M., and afterwards as King and their natural lord
and owner."

The king-at-arms left, and then the licentiate Menchaca, the oldest
councillor of the Chamber, mounted and read from the same Gospel side
the form of the oath, which was very long and dull. Then the Conde de
Oropesa went to Princess Juana, and informed her that she would be
called on first to swear. The Princess rose at once, and, accompanied
beyond the canopy by the King and Prince, went and knelt before the
Cardinal, who asked her, "Will your Highness, as Infanta of Castille,
swear to guard and fulfil all that is contained in the writing of the
oath just read?"

The Princess, placing her hands on the Gospels and the Cross, replied,
"I swear."

And the Cardinal answered, "So help you God and the Holy Gospels."

Then the Princess went to kneel before the King to do homage, and placed
her joined hands between those of the King, who asked her, "Will you do
homage once, twice, and three times; once, twice, and three times; once,
twice, and three times; and will you promise and plight your word and
faith that you will perform all that which the writing of the oath,
which you have heard read, contains?"

"Thus I promise," responded the Princess.

And she then wished to kneel before the Prince to kiss his hand; but he,
standing up hurriedly, prevented her, and embraced her tenderly.
Princess Juana returned to her seat under the canopy, and as there was
no other prince to swear, the king-at-arms advanced again and cried,
turning towards the seat of the Grandees, "Marqués de Mondejar! mount up
and take the oath of homage." Then the Marqués de Mondejar mounted the
platform, and placed himself standing at the Cardinal's left, and behind
him three councillors of the Royal Council of Castille, and four of that
of Aragón, to serve as witnesses.

Then the secretary, Francisco de Eraso, came forward and said to the
King, according to the record of these courts, "That it is known that
the Illustrious D. John of Austria has not completed his fourteenth
year; but, as he wished it to be known that he has discretion, ability,
and understanding already in great abundance, H.M. supplies the defect,
so that he may be able to take the oath and do homage, in case it should
be necessary, and H.M. having specially heard, in intelligible voice
answered and said that such was his will, notwithstanding the law of
these realms. When the Most Illustrious D. John of Austria heard this he
rose from the chair where he was and went before the Most Reverend
Cardinal, and took the same oath as the Princess had taken, and, this
done, he rose and went to the said Marqués de Mondejar, who was standing
in front of H.M., and, putting his hands between those of the said
Marqués, did the homage contained in the said writing of the oath and
homage, which he did in sign of obedience, subjection, and vassalage,
and fidelity due to the Very Serene Prince D. Carlos, and knelt down on
the ground and kissed his hand, and then went back to sit in the chair
where he was before, as has been said."

After D. John of Austria, the Prelates, Grandees, and nobles of Castille
took the oath, the members of the Cortes, D. Garcia de Toledo, tutor to
the Prince, the Conde de Oropesa, the Marqués de Mondejar and the
Stewards of the King next swearing. The last to swear was the Duque de
Alba, who as Lord Steward of the King had directed the ceremony, staff
in hand; but being absent-minded, after making his homage, he forgot to
kiss the Prince's hand, who gave him such a look of anger and rancour,
that no historian has forgotten to note and comment on it.

The Duke remembered himself, and went at once to make his excuses to the
Prince, who then gave his hand to be kissed, but never forgot this
trifling inattention, which he took for an affront. The Cardinal of
Burgos afterwards took the oath at the hands of the Archbishop of
Seville, and finally Prince Carlos wound up by doing so at the hands of
D. John of Austria, "To guard the statutes and laws of these kingdoms,
maintaining them in peace and justice, and to defend the Catholic faith
with his person and property and all his might."

This ended the ceremony, and the Court returned to the royal castle to
the music of minstrels, trumpets and drums.




                               CHAPTER II


At length the Court removed to Madrid, very soon after the investiture
of D. Carlos, and the King gave D. John of Austria, as his residence,
the house of D. Pedro de Porras, which was in front of St. Mary's and
very near the castle. Half a century later the Duque de Uceda erected
his magnificent palace on the site of this house, and it forms the
edifice occupied by the Military Governor and the Council of State
to-day.

In it D. John was installed with Luis Quijada and Doña Magdalena de
Ulloa, and, beyond the respect due to the new position of the son of
Charles V, his relations with them were the same as in the six years of
quiet, happy intimacy at Villagarcia. D. John went each day to the royal
castle with all the pomp of a prince, to study and play with D. Carlos
and to pay his respects to the King and the good Queen Doña Isabel de
Valois, who always kept him a long time, and loaded him with attentions
and invitations, to the great satisfaction of all her ladies. He also
daily visited his sister, Princess Juana, and often accompanied her on
her visits to churches and other holy places. This all naturally pleased
the new-made prince; but when he got home and met Doña Magdalena in her
room, always occupied about something for his welfare, then it was that
he really opened out and showed himself the old Jeromín, loving his
_aunt_ as a very dear mother. He would sit on a cushion at Doña
Magdalena's feet, and, with his head leaning against her knee, according
to his custom, would confide to her the impressions of the day, and pour
out his soul with the candour and simplicity of his early years.

An unexpected catastrophe came to trouble this quiet life. On the 24th
of November, a little before dawn, a peasant of Alcorcón came into the
town by the gate of the Vega riding his donkey. He was frightened by the
vivid light which illuminated the little square and façade of St.
Mary's, and he then saw that flames were issuing from the roof of D.
John of Austria's house.

It consisted of only two stories, like all the best houses in the town,
which in arrangement and architecture were very like that of Valmediano
in the square of the Cortes, or that of the Marqués de Corbera in the
streets of La Bola, with the only difference that those of the nobles
had strong towers at not less than two of their angles. Alarmed that no
one in the house was aware of this formidable fire, the boy began to
shout and to knock on the door, crying out, "Fire! Fire! Wake up."

They all woke up terrified, and Quijada, as years before at Villagarcia,
ran to save Don John of Austria. He met him getting out of bed and
hastening to help Doña Magdalena, but without taking any account of his
cries and efforts to run to the room of his _aunt_, Quijada took him in
his arms, dressed as he was in his shirt, and going into the street,
deposited him on the steps of St. Mary's. Then with great calmness
Quijada went back among the flames to save Doña Magdalena, and deposited
her, also half dressed, beside D. John.

Then the fire broke out with such tremendous fury, that in spite of the
house being so large, in half an hour it was an immense bonfire, and
five hours later a mountain of rubbish, among which the only thing that
remained standing was the wall of D. John's bedchamber.

Hanging on this wall the famous crucifix of the Moors, saved by Luis
Quijada once before from the flames, which, after D. John came to
Villagarcia, Doña Magdalena had placed at the head of his bed, remained
intact. This was thought to be a miracle, and it was certainly, at
least, a special providence of God to save such a venerated image.

The neighbours hurried at once to the spot, mostly poor people who with
the utmost good-will offered clothes to D. John and to Doña Magdalena to
cover them. All, however, drew aside and formed a respectful path for a
pair who emerged from the narrow lane of St. Mary, which existed then
between the church of this name and the house which was afterwards that
of the Duque de Abrantes. "Rey Gómez," "Rey Gómez," murmured the crowd.
And all drew to one side and showed that sort of frightened admiration
which takes hold of the lower orders when they have to rub shoulders
with the great, whom they usually only see at a distance.

He whom they called _Rey Gómez_ was a man no longer young, of noble
bearing and very refined features, with black, curly beard and hair
which was already beginning to turn grey.

The lady accompanying him was wrapped up in a short cloak, which did not
hide her tall, good figure or her handsome, proud, pale face, sadly
disfigured by her right eye being blind. She came to Doña Magdalena and
embraced her with great signs of compassion and affection, as if they
were old friends, offering her clothes which her servants brought and
shelter in her own house, which was behind that called de Abrantes, and
is to-day the Italian Embassy. The gentleman did the same by D. John and
Luis Quijada, and they went to the house of the one-eyed lady, escorted
by the crowd.

This lady was the very celebrated Princess de Évoli, Doña Ana Mendoza de
la Cerda, who later had so much influence over the fate of D. John of
Austria; and the gentleman was her husband, the Prince de Évoli, Ruy
Gómez de Silva, a great favourite, while he lived, of the King, Philip
II, for which reason the common people had changed his name from Ruy
Gómez to Rey Gómez, to show the great power and favour he enjoyed.

For two long months D. John, Quijada and Doña Magdalena stayed in the
house of the Prince and Princess de Évoli, as the King did not have his
new house suitably furnished; this house was that of the Conde de Lemus,
joining the parish church of Santiago.

Meanwhile the health of Prince Carlos got visibly worse from day to day,
making his character strange and gloomy. Philip II, by the advice of the
doctors, then determined to give him change of air, and for this purpose
sent him to Alcalá de Henares with D. John of Austria and Alexander
Farnese, that they might at the same time continue their studies there
under the care of Honorato Juan, who had directed them from the first.

So the Prince set out with all his household for Alcalá de Henares on
the 31st of October, and three days later D. John of Austria followed
with his household, and Alexander Farnese with his humble retinue. The
two first lodged in the palace belonging to the Archbishop of Toledo, an
airy, healthy dwelling, with big orchards and shady gardens.

King Philip spared no means or expense which could contribute to the
brilliant education of the three Princes.

The most famous doctors of the then flourishing University of Alcalá
read them their lectures in private, and helped them with every kind of
book and manuscript, about which Honorato Juan was extremely learned.
Under his direction was copied at that time in Alcalá, solely with a
view to the education of the three Princes, the celebrated manuscript of
the scientific works compiled by Alfonso the Wise. Diego de Valencia
copied the text, and Juan de Herrera went expressly to draw the
astronomical figures with which it was illustrated. Philip II himself
ordered and wrote with his own hand the arrangement of the hours of
study, rest and recreation which the three illustrious students were
daily to observe.

They got up at six in the morning in summer, at seven in winter, and
after bathing, dressing, and combing their hair, said their prayers in
the presence of the Lord Steward and Gentlemen of the Bedchamber, all on
their knees. In these prayers they very especially prayed for the Kings
of the earth and the souls of the dead.

Then the three Princes breakfasted together, and afterwards heard Mass
in D. Carlos's private chapel.

Two hours of continual study with masters followed, always presided over
by Honorato Juan. The lessons invariably began by reciting the Veni
Creator, and ended by giving thanks to God. At eleven the three Princes
left their room to dine in public; at twelve they had a music and
singing lesson till one, and from that hour until four o'clock they
returned to their studies, with which were interpolated riding and
fencing lessons.

From four to five the Princes amused themselves as they liked with the
gentlemen of the bedchamber and the gentlemen whom, with the approval of
his tutor, D. García de Toledo, the Prince received. Supper was at six
o'clock, and after this, until nine, they went for walks and played
games, according to the weather and as they pleased. At nine they said
their beads all together, and then each one retired to his room. Sundays
and feast-days the hours of study were occupied in pious exercises,
walks and games of skill and amusement. The union and intimacy of the
three Princes grew owing to this life, though it did not prevent their
often having the quarrels natural to their age, which were always caused
by D. Carlos's hasty and ungovernable temper. Playing one day at pelota
with D. John of Austria, a discussion arose about a doubtful stroke, and
as the Prince had no more reasons to give he turned his back on D. John
very rudely, saying that he could not argue with him, as he was not his
equal by birth. D. John sprang like a wild beast, and, seizing D.
Carlos's coat, told him proudly that his mother was a German great lady,
and that his father had been a much greater man than was that of D.
Carlos. The latter was at once frightened, but afterwards, the first
time the King came to see them, he referred to the subject. To which D.
Philip gravely answered:

"D. John is right. His mother is a German lady; and his father, the
Emperor, my Lord, who was much greater than I am or ever can be. Note
well, D. Carlos, the only thing in which he never equals you, is in
pride and bad manners."




                              CHAPTER III


The wise and respected Honorato Juan did not gain much credit from his
three pupils. Certainly D. John and the Prince of Parma studied, but
they did so because they were obliged to, and naturally progressed as
they were sharp, understood easily, and had good memories. But the
military proclivities of both, which afterwards made them such great
generals, always kept their thoughts on other things, and they only gave
a forced, listless attention to the literature and philosophy of Alcalá.

The Prince of the Asturias for his part did not even do this; apathetic
and melancholy by nature, without other signs of character than pride or
temper, he did not care for science, or letters, or arts, or arms, or
wars, nor did healthy things amuse him; the only thing which pleased him
was to do harm to his neighbour. Such was the very harsh judgment,
according to our mind, of the Venetian Ambassador Paolo Tiepolo.

The Prince was, therefore, bored at Alcalá, and his boredom grew as his
health improved.

In this dangerous state of mind it was proposed by one of his servants,
of the sort who pander to the vices of their masters, that to amuse his
leisure he should pay court to a girl, the daughter of the palace
warden, who, according to probably true accounts, was named Mariana de
Gardetas.

From a child the Prince had displayed an extraordinary aversion to
women, going so far as to grossly insult several, without more reason
than the sort of instinctive rage the sight of them caused him. He,
however, gladly accepted the servant's evil idea, and, using him as an
intermediary, presents and notes followed by assignations began between
the Prince and the wench.

They met in the garden; she left her father's dwelling secretly, he
descending a narrow staircase, barred by an iron gate, which ran inside
the massive wall of the great, so-called, council chamber, and led into
the orchard.

The vanity of D. Carlos did not allow him to keep the secret for long,
and he confided it to D. John of Austria, asking his help. But D. John
was too simple to understand the slippery ways of gallantry, and he
laughed heartily at the Prince's extraordinary idea of making a warden's
daughter into a Queen of Spain.

In his turn D. Carlos laughed at his uncle's innocence, and with evil
intention tore off at a stroke the bandage which covered the still pure
eyes of the victor of Lepanto. The part of confidant which the Prince
had arranged for him in the unknown land opening before his eyes was
repugnant to D. John, and he refused his help and withdrew in disgust.
D. Carlos then sought other confidants, and found two very complaisant
ones among the gentlemen of his bedchamber, who began to urge him with
insistence along the dangerous path, on the pretence that love, as they
understood it, would sharpen the Prince's intellectual faculties and
build up his weak physique. But neither his tutor D. García de Toledo,
nor his master of the horse Luis Quijada, shared their ideas, and, when
they at last heard of the matter, with mutual consent, ordered that the
little gate leading to the orchard should be shut. D. Carlos did not
dare then to vent his rage on his tutor D. García, and contented himself
with cruelly thrashing the servant who shut the gate. With great secrecy
he procured another key, and on the 19th of April, 1562, which, being
Sunday, was for the Prince the freest day, made an assignation with the
girl for noon on the following day at the foot of the staircase.

That day D. Carlos dined very hurriedly and as if agitated, and the meal
was hardly finished before he sent away all the servants and went out
himself, leaving the Prince of Parma and D. John of Austria by
themselves.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Anderson_

  DON CARLOS, PRINCE OF THE ASTURIAS

  _By Sanchez Coello. Prado Gallery, Madrid_
]

They had noticed the Prince's excitement, and, following him at a
distance, saw him disappear by the little staircase of the council
chamber without even troubling to shut the door.

The Princes looked at each other and smiled, knowing what this meant. At
the same moment they heard a great noise on the staircase as of someone
falling, and pitiful cries coming from the ground. D. John ran there
with open arms, and Alexander Farnese very wisely informed D. García de
Toledo and Luis Quijada.

They found the unfortunate Prince lying on the ground, with his head cut
open and covered with blood. He had descended the staircase in blind
haste, missed his footing on the last step, and fallen on his head,
giving it a tremendous blow against the heavy gate.

From the first moment the doctors of the bedchamber Vega and Olivares
treated him, and also the Licentiate Deza Chacón, surgeon to the King;
and, as the Prince complained very much when he was being bandaged, the
surgeon rather stayed his hand. Quijada, who always thought badly of the
wound, said, "Tighter, tighter, Licentiate Deza. Do not treat him as a
prince, but as a peasant."

D. García de Toledo at once sent off one of the Prince's gentlemen of
the bedchamber, D. Diego de Acuña, to tell the King what had happened,
and by daybreak the next day, Monday, the 20th, he had already returned
with Dr. Gutiérrez, first physician to the King, and the doctors
Portugues and Pedro de Torres, his surgeons.

A few hours afterwards the King arrived in person, and in his presence
all the doctors examined the wound; they unanimously declared that it
was not dangerous; and, reassured by this, D. Philip went back to Madrid
that same night.

But at daybreak on the 30th, the eleventh day, a high fever seized the
Prince, with severe pains in the wound, neck, and right leg, which
otherwise seemed dead.

The doctors were frightened, and then declared that the symptoms
revealed a lesion in the skull, if not in the brain.

Hastily the King was informed of this, and the same night, the 30th, he
arrived at Alcalá with the Duque de Alba, the Prince de Évoli, and
Charles V's former doctor, Vesale. A few hours later came the rest of
the Council and the Grandees who held offices at Court.

The Prince was so ill on the 2nd of May that the King ordered the
sacraments to be administered to him; his face was inflamed, swollen
eyelids made him blind, and his right leg was completely paralysed.

D. Carlos received the Viaticum with great devotion, and, clearing the
room, made signs to D. John of Austria to come near him.

Taking his hands affectionately the Prince whispered to him that he had
offered to Our Lady of Montserrat his own weight in gold and three times
his weight in silver if he got well; and that he had also made the same
offerings at the sanctuary of Our Lady of Guadeloupe and to the Christ
of St. Augustine in Burgos; but that there was there in Alcalá, in the
convent of the Franciscans of Jesus and Mary, the body of a great saint,
who was called Brother Diego, to whom he wished to make the same
offering, and he begged D. John, as he loved him, to go himself and make
this offering at the saint's sepulchre in D. Carlos's name. Much
touched, D. John promised, and from that day he went morning and evening
to beg for the Prince's recovery before the sepulchre of Fr. Diego. The
illness had changed the miserable D. Carlos; he became docile and
gentle, obeyed everyone, and asked pardon, especially of his father and
Honorato Juan, the only person, perhaps, that he really loved.

He liked D. John of Austria and the Prince of Parma to be always at his
side, and when, from exhaustion, he could not talk to them, he took
their hands and fondled them.

King Philip presided over forty consultations of doctors between April
30th and May 8th. He sat on his throne with the Duque de Alba on his
right and D. García de Toledo on his left; behind were the Grandees of
the Court and in front the doctors, sitting on benches in a semi-circle.
D. García de Toledo indicated whose turn it was to speak. At one of
these consultations someone spoke of an old Moor in Valencia, called the
Pintadillo, who had effected wonderful cures with unguents of his own
making. The doctors protested; but the King sent to fetch the Pintadillo
post-haste, to the great annoyance and scandal of them all.

The night of the 8th of May the doctors gave the Prince up, and told the
King that he could not live more than three or four hours.

D. Philip did not wish to see him die, and left that same night, having
given the Duque de Alba and the Conde de Feria detailed instructions for
the funeral and burying of his son. Some of the lords of the Court
hastened to buy cloth for mourning.

All that sad night D. John of Austria passed by the pillow of the dying
boy, and at dawn he told the Duque de Alba to accompany him to the
convent of Jesus and Mary, for the last time, to ask Fr. Diego to save
the Prince.

Then the Duque de Alba had a sudden idea, inspired, no doubt, by God. He
ordered, in the name of the King, that the tomb of Fr. Diego should be
opened and the body taken to the Prince's room.

The procession was arranged by midday; in front went the people begging
mercy from God; then followed hundreds of penitents in hoods and
sackcloth, their shoulders bare, cruelly disciplining themselves; then
four brothers of St. Francis, carrying on a bier the body of Fr. Diego,
which was in a coffin, covered with a shroud, his face, not decomposed,
but dried up as it is to-day, uncovered.

Right and left of the coffin went two penitents, their faces covered by
a hood of coarse material, and, below, the sackcloth tunic showing their
bare and bleeding feet cut by the stones of the road; they were those
two "thunderbolts of war," Alexander Farnese and D. John of Austria.

Behind them came the Duque de Alba, with uncovered head, followed and
surrounded by the University communities, students, nobility, clergy,
courtiers and professors, not in a devout and orderly procession, but
all anyhow, filling up the streets like a wave of sorrow and bitterness,
which carried to the palace the body of Fr. Diego, which was to save the
only male heir of the Crown of Spain.

The body entered the Prince's room, the doors of which were already wide
open, as is proper for those of a death-chamber, and all followed who
could, without order, precedence or arrangement.

The Prince was lying in bed on his back, his eyes closed through
swelling of the lids, his nose pinched, his mouth open, and his hoarse
breathing coming with difficulty from his dry throat.

They placed the coffin on the bed, touching the body of the Prince; the
Prior of St. Francis took one of the inert hands and placed it gently on
Fr. Diego's chest.

An unnatural silence reigned, during which no one breathed, a leaf
dropping would have been heard, the wings of the Guardian Angel bore to
heaven these clamours of faith, these tears of hope.

Suddenly the Prince turned towards the coffin, and the rattle changed to
gentle breathing.

The terror of the supernatural possessed them all, and made the hair of
many stand on end. Ten minutes later a gentle sleep overcame the Prince,
which lasted for six hours. They all went out on tiptoe, holding their
breath; silently the body was taken out.

On waking the Prince called D. John of Austria, and told him that during
this sleep he had seen Fr. Diego de Alcalá in his Franciscan habit, with
a cross of reeds tied with a green ribbon. The saint had told him that
this time he would not die. Nor did he.




                               CHAPTER IV


D. Carlos left Alcalá to complete his convalescence in Madrid on the
17th of July, and Alexander Farnese and D. John of Austria remained
alone to continue their studies until the end of 1564.

D. John was then at the dangerous age of adolescence, when nature
unconsciously awakes, and the imagination wanders in unknown spheres,
giving rise to strange fears, vague desires, and curious dreams which
trouble the mind and heart, and sadly often lead the will from the right
road, if some evil influence changes its course.

D. John, however, was too high-minded and had been too well guarded for
the vulgar influence of the student crew to affect him. These students,
of whom Alarcón has since said in the "Verdad sospechosa":

                   Son mozos, gastan humor,
                   Sigue cada cual su gusto,
                   Hacen donaire del vicio,
                   Gala de la travesura,
                   Grandeza de la locura,
                   Hace al fin la edad su oficio.[4]

Footnote 4:

                    They are boys, prodigal of mirth,
                    Each one following his own will,
                    They make light of vice,
                    A glory of mischief,
                    A grandeur of folly,
                    In short—boys will be boys.

But there were students in Alcalá of the highest nobility, who paid
their court to the Princes and shared their pleasures and exercises, and
one of these, who appears to have been D. Rodrigo de Mendoza, second son
of the Duque del Infantado, provided D. John with some of the romances
so much in fashion at the time.

The effect of these readings on D. John's mind was that of throwing a
lighted torch down on a dry stubble field.

Certainly his good sense reduced the fabulous deeds of Amadis and
Palmerin to the limits of possibility, but the spirit, and the
inclination to what is daring, chivalrous and romantic, inflamed his
already ardent imagination, and made his heart glow, having from his
childhood always been drawn to what was great and marvellous.

To honour God and succour the poor, as Doña Magdalena de Ulloa had
taught him, always attracted him; his dream was to serve the King
loyally, as Luis Quijada had taught him, and on his own account to do
great deeds, to which he seemed to be called by the blood of Charles V
coursing through his veins. But, after his novel-reading, all this
seemed to him small and insignificant, without glamour or glory, and
besides a God to honour, a King to serve, and renown to earn, he then
added a kingdom to conquer for the faith of Christ, and a lady to love,
not in the low, sinful way of Prince Carlos and Mariana Gardeta, but
spiritually and platonically, like the Oriana of Amadis of Gaul.

These dreams, pondered over during those two years, determined for ever
the great qualities and perceptible faults of D. John of Austria. While
he was in this state of mind he learnt, we do not know how, that his
brother D. Philip had begged a Cardinal's hat for him from the Pope Paul
IV, but this was not really the wish of Charles V, as expressed in his
will; because the Emperor never orders that D. John should be forced
into the Church, or even adorned with the purple of a Cardinal; but only
desires "that he should be well guided, that of his free and spontaneous
will he should take the habit in some house of reformed friars, to which
he shall be led without undue pressure or extortion whatever."

The sorrow and indignation of D. John on learning this news was
boundless, and he hastened to tell it to the good and discreet Doña
Magdalena, bemoaning his lost illusions with all the bitterness and
despair of youth.

Doña Magdalena understood the enormous mistake it would be, and the
dangers to which the soul of D. John would be exposed, were he forced
into a career for which God had given him no vocation; and with the
independent spirit of strong and saintly souls she earnestly besought
him to do all in his power to prevent the hat being given to him, and in
case of not being able to prevent it, openly to resist the King with as
much respect as firmness.

Conscience and honour are outside vassalage, and the noble dame, like
many others of the time, shared the feeling of Calderón, who, making
himself the echo of this race, already so degenerate in his day, said:

                     Al Rey la hacienda y la vida
                     Se debe; pero el honor
                     Es patrimonio del alma
                     Y el alma es solo de Dios.[5]

Footnote 5:

                      To the King property and life
                      Belong; but honour
                      Is the patrimony of the soul
                      And the soul is God's alone.

Encouraged by this, D. John said no more about the matter, even to Doña
Magdalena, and nobody could have suspected that he knew what was on
foot.

D. Philip returned to Madrid shortly afterwards from the Cortes de
Monzón, which he had been attending, bringing with him his two nephews,
the Archdukes Rudolph and Ernest, sons of the Emperor Maximilian and of
the holy Empress Maria, sister of Philip and of D. John of Austria. D.
John went at once to greet the King and welcome the Archdukes, and he
met them at the castle of Valsain, away in the wood of Segovia. There
was nothing else talked of at the Court, or in the town, but the
formidable attack of the Turks on the island of Malta, and the heroic
defence made by the old Master of the Order, Juan Parissot de la
Valette. The leader of the strong Ottoman squadron was Admiral Pialy,
with those two terrible pirates, Hassen and Dragut, with whom were
45,000 men to be landed, led by Mustafa Pacha. The Grand Master de la
Valette, only having 600 knights of the Order and 4500 soldiers to
defend the whole island, earnestly sought help from the Princes of
Christendom, but specially from the Pope and the King of Spain, the one
being particularly interested in the defence of the faith, and the other
in the preservation of his dominions in Africa and Italy, which were
safeguarded by the island of Malta.

Philip II at once ordered a squadron to be prepared with 25,000
soldiers, of whom some were to go from Barcelona and the rest to be
taken from Sicily. The besieged urged promptness more and more
earnestly, and at the same time came tidings of the heroic valour of
their resistance and of the ferocity of the Turk. In mockery of our holy
religion Mustafa had made a cross with the numerous hearts of the
Knights of Malta killed in the encounter, and had stuck it up at the
confines of his camp; and the Grand Master de la Valette had answered
this barbarous sacrilege by charging his big cannons with the heads of
Turks, as bombs, and firing them at the enemy.

All this made D. John's young blood boil, and he silently made his
plans. Certainly here was an enterprise that included everything! The
glory of the faith, the succour of the helpless, the service of the
King! The kingdom to be conquered was lacking, but, on the other hand,
it was an occasion to show the King at once that an iron helmet suited
the son of Charles V better than a red hat. Also the lady was wanting;
but who could say that in the course of the enterprise he would not meet
with her? Nobody noticed, however, that D. John was preoccupied, and
they only observed that he had long talks with D. Juan de Gúzman, one of
his gentlemen of the bedchamber, and with D. José de Acuña y Peñuela,
keeper of his wardrobe.

He went out one morning, the 9th of April, 1565, for a ride with Prince
Carlos, and with studied pretence separated from him and turned towards
Galapagar, followed only by D. Juan de Gúzman and D. José de Acuña.

D. John did not return that night, and the King, as he missed him next
day, sent for Luis Quijada, who thought that he was with Prince Carlos
and the Archdukes, but when the King undeceived him he could give no
information as to his whereabouts.

Everyone was alarmed; a great search was made, and at length the Duque
de Medinaceli said that according to a postillion who had met D. John on
the road, this last had taken post for Galapagar with two gentlemen of
his household, and was on the way to Barcelona, to embark on the galleys
which were going to help the Island of Malta. The annoyance of the King
at his independence was somewhat softened by the generosity of the boy's
impulse, and couriers were sent to all the ports, and Viceroys, in order
that he should be stopped with this message, "that he was to come back
at once, as the enterprise was without his (the King's) knowledge or
sanction, and that the boy was very young for such a long journey and
such a dangerous undertaking." D. Pedro Manuel was dispatched with this
message, and with orders that he should follow until he had overtaken D.
John, and the King charged Luis Quijada also to write and show how
displeased he was. Luis Quijada's displeasure was indeed great, not on
account of D. John's escapade, for that pleased him extremely, but on
account of the want of confidence in having said nothing to him. But
Doña Magdalena, who saw better than anyone to the root of all this, made
Quijada note the prudence and affection of D. John in using such great
reserve towards him; because if he had told his project to Quijada, he
would have been obliged, by virtue of his trust, to forbid it, and to
have countenanced it would have been to incur the annoyance of the
Monarch. So it was most prudent to be silent, and this is what D. John
had been.




                               CHAPTER V


The news of D. John's spontaneous departure for the island of Malta to
fight the Turks caused such enthusiasm among the people of Madrid that
they went shouting through the streets, applauding the worthy son of
Charles V.

The nobility, for their part, then paid to this lad of eighteen the most
sincere homage which can be paid to the perfect man, set up as our
model, that of copying him. The greater portion of the young nobles
hastened to embark with D. John at Barcelona, some only with their
swords and good intentions, having nothing else to bring; others, at
their own cost, brought men-at-arms to fight against the Turk, the
constant nightmare of the Europe of that day.

The most important of these gentlemen was D. Bernardino de Cárdenas,
Lord of Colmenar de Oreja; D. Luis Carillo, eldest son of the Conde de
Priego, and his uncle D. Luis with a great company taken at his charge
of gentlemen, kindred, captains, and servants; D. Jerónimo de Padilla,
D. Gabriel Manrique, son of the Conde de Osorno, D. Bernardino de
Mendoza, brother of the Conde de Coruña, D. Diego de Gúzman, Steward to
the Queen, D. Lorenzo Manuel, D. Francisco Zapata de Cárdenas, D. Pedro
de Luxán, D. Gabriel Niño, Juan Bautista Tassis, afterwards Conde de
Villamediano, and a lot of other Castillian, Andalucian, and Aragonese
gentlemen.

There arrived also at the last moment four of Prince Carlos's gentlemen,
of whom one was afterwards the famous Marqués de Castel Rodrigo, D.
Christóbal de Moúra.

All this made Philip II think, and from that moment he gave up the idea
of forcing his brother into the Church, understanding that he would gain
more from D. John by using his prestige and courage in matters of war.

Meanwhile D. John was flying from the hat in search of glory, with such
bad luck that on arriving at Torija he had to stop, ill of a tertian
fever. He was cared for as well as they could manage in a castle that
the Conde de Coruña had there, and, more plucky than cured, he went on
his way to Frasno, five leagues from Saragossa. Here the fever returned
with such force that he could go no further. This place belonged to the
Conde de Rivagorza, the Duque de Villahermosa, D. Martin de Aragón, a
great gentleman who experienced shortly afterwards, in the person of his
eldest son, the most tragic disaster, perhaps, in all the history of the
Grandees.

This nobleman was the widower of Doña Luisa de Borja, sister of St.
Francis; after fighting in Flanders, and much distinguishing himself at
the battle of St. Quintin, he was then living in retirement with his
sons in the town of Pedrola. The Duke was told of the illustrious guest
on his property, ill in the miserable inn of Frasno, and he hastened to
send eighteen mules with everything necessary for the use of a prince,
even to beds and coverings, and a complete set of hammered plate.

Not satisfied with this, the Duke went to Frasno with two of the doctors
in his service, and pressed D. John to move to his country house at
Pedrola or to his castle of Benabarre, the principal place of the county
of Rivagorza, where he could be attended to and looked after with the
greatest care.

D. John had not time to accept the invitation of the first Grandee of
Aragón, because the Archbishop of Saragossa, hearing of his illness and
being at Frasno, at once sent the Governor of the town, with many other
noble gentlemen, to fetch D. John and carry him off to be well looked
after in his own palace.

This Archbishop was D. Hernando of Aragón, grandson of King Ferdinand
the Catholic, and was respected as much for his age as for his
illustrious lineage.

So D. John was moved with many precautions by mules and litters
belonging to the Duque de Villahermosa, who accompanied him with great
courtesy until he left him installed in the Archbishop's palace.

The Archbishop received him outside the palace, and the people ran to
see the Emperor's son, and to show by their applause their sympathy with
him in his youthful escapade.

D. Pedro Manuel had arrived in Frasno, and no sooner did he see D. John
a little better, than he hastened to give him D. Philip's order, adding,
on his own account, "that he could not go on unless he wished to make
the King angry, as the galleys in which he could have sailed had left
Barcelona."

To which D. John answered gravely, that the undertaking was in the
service of God and of the King his lord, and that this being so, he
could not give it up with honour; so he sent D. José de Acuña to
Barcelona, to see if there was a galley for his passage. The Archbishop
and Governor and many gentlemen also begged him "to go back to Madrid,
as they had orders from the King to stop him."

But to this D. John would not give in either. The Archbishop,
accordingly, with the King's letter in his hand, notified him "that he
should not go further," but D. John, without losing his calmness or
politeness, persisted in his wish. Then the Archbishop, Governor, and
notables of Aragón, who had hurried to Saragossa, were so charmed by the
audacity and firm purpose of this lad of eighteen, that they begged him,
if he still persisted in going, "to take 500 arquebusiers for his guard,
as it was not right to go alone, and that the Kingdom would pay for
them, as long as the expedition lasted." To which D. John replied that,
"if he embarked, he would accept their offer." Then they offered him a
great sum of money in crowns, but D. John gratefully and courteously
refused this.

With an enthusiastic farewell from everyone D. John set out from
Saragossa for Belpuche, where he lodged with the Viceroy of Naples. Then
he went to Montserrat, to visit the celebrated sanctuary, and the monks,
in league with the Viceroy of Catalonia, who was the Duque de
Francavilla, arranged to amuse him in the monastery until the galleys
for Malta had set sail from Barcelona.

Then the Viceroy, the Duque de Francavilla, with the magistrates, the
Archbishop of Tarragona, and the Bishop of Barcelona came to receive him
in Montserrat, begging him to return to Madrid in accordance with the
King's will as the galleys had sailed for the island of Malta. To which
D. John answered imperturbably that, if there were no galleys in
Barcelona, he could easily find one by crossing France, as he thought of
doing, to seek one in another place.

Puzzled what to do, the Viceroy accompanied him to Barcelona, with much
honour and a great following, and entertained him there with feasts,
rejoicings and balls, in order to give time for the last resource, which
was an autograph letter from the King to D. John, ordering him to return
at once, without delay, to Madrid, under pain of his royal and lasting
displeasure.

D. John bowed his head to such a conclusive threat, and returned at once
to Madrid, with as much applause from everyone for his obedience as for
his first brave resolution.

He was received with great enthusiasm in Madrid, and the first to go and
meet him was Prince Carlos, who gave him a gold ring with a magnificent
diamond, the work of Jacome Trezzo, which cost 800 ducats.

The King was not then in Madrid, having gone to Segovia and Sepulveda to
meet the Queen Doña Isabel, his wife, who was returning from the
celebrated conference of Bayonne.

Their Majesties' return was announced for the 30th of July, and Prince
Carlos and D. John went three leagues from the town to receive them.

The King and D. John had not met since the latter's prank, and the
interview promised to be embarrassing.

But good Queen Isabel's prudence and cleverness, however, gave it a more
pleasant turn, for, as soon as she saw D. John, she made him approach,
and, without giving him time to say anything or make any sign, she asked
him, with a sly smile, if the Turks of Malta had seemed brave to him.
The would-be champion became as red as a poppy, and answered bitterly
that, to his great sorrow, he had not been able to find out.

At this D. Philip laughed, and affectionately embraced his brother,
whispering to him to have patience, that very shortly the armada would
be ready to go against the pirates of the Mediterranean, of which he had
already decided to make D. John Generalissimo.




                               CHAPTER VI


This adventure made D. John the fashion, as we should say now, a thing
which existed in the sixteenth century without being so called. He
became the spoilt child of the Court and the idol of the people, to such
a degree that many of them wished him to be the heir to the crown, in
default of D. Carlos.

D. John's good looks had much to do with this; he was then only
nineteen, but was already perfectly developed.

He was of a good height, slim and altogether graceful, because neatness
was as much a part of him as flexibility is of fine-tempered steel.

He had fair hair, brushed up to the left in the form of a toupee, a
fashion made common by his imitators and called "à la Austriaca"; his
beard, the same colour as his hair, was thin; his complexion pale, but
rather sunburnt, which gave him a pleasing, manly appearance; big blue
eyes, always clear and bright, which could be smiling and loving or
grave and severe, as he wished.

He was debonair and very nice in his person, and ostentatious in his
dress, which was always in the extreme of fashion, as may be seen in
some of his pictures.

That which radiated from him and made him so irresistible was that "je
ne sais quoi" belonging to very superior men, which attracts, enchants,
and subjugates, and, according to a very profound writer, consists in
the mysterious combination of grace, talent, and desire to please.

Such was the attractive figure of D. John when he began to be a real
personage at the much-discussed Court of his brother.

Certainly that Court was not then, if it ever was, the gloomy, austere
convent, represented to us by those who believe, or seem to believe, in
an awesome legendary Philip II, surrounded by holocausts and gallows,
and Inquisitors and friars.

Nor was it either the united family of devout maidens and saintly
matrons, venerable old men and immaculate pages, which those make out
who would, in all good faith, imprison the colossal Philip II in the
rickety form of a devout monk.

The Court of Philip II was certainly the strictest of its day, but it
was also the most magnificent, sumptuous and full of harmless amusement
and the knight errantry of those times, without lacking, as was natural,
intrigues, plots and scandals between gallants and ladies. These D.
Philip sometimes put down openly with a firm hand, at others corrected
secretly, and not a few he pretended not to notice, for reasons which
must always remain unknown.

The Court was divided, as nearly always happens, into two absolutely
different camps—the courtly and the political.

The principal personages of the former at that time were two princesses,
as remarkable for their virtue as for their beauty, and united by the
bonds of the tenderest friendship. They were the Queen Isabel de Valois
and the widowed Princess of Portugal, Doña Juana, the first aged only
twenty and the other thirty at this date.

Their circle included the numerous ladies of both their suites,
belonging to the highest Spanish nobility, although the Queen's included
a few Frenchwomen and the Princess's several Portuguese, and these
foreigners were always at war with the Spanish women.

The Queen's ladies numbered over fifty, all spinsters, and they only
remained at the palace until the King had found advantageous alliances
for them.

There were also ten duennas of honour, all widows and ladies of high
rank, and at their head the Camarera Mayor, who had to be a lady of
quality, and was, at that time, the Dowager Condesa de Urena, Doña Maria
de la Cueva, a matron of great judgment and experience and the mother of
the first Duque de Osuna.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Anderson_

  ELIZABETH DE VALOIS. ISABEL DE LA PAZ,
  THIRD WIFE OF PHILIP II

  _From her picture by Pantoja de La Cruz in Prado Gallery, Madrid_
]

Princess Juana also had her ladies, her very respectable duennas, and
her Camarera Mayor, Doña Isabel de Quiñones. Doña Elenor Mascarenas, her
former and beloved and revered governess, had already retired from the
Court, and was then founding, in what is to-day the square of Santo
Domingo, the convent of the Angels, where, years afterwards, she ended
her holy life.

It pleased the Queen to amuse her ladies with riding, hunting, picnics
in the groves, balls, masquerades and theatricals in her apartments, in
which they all, including the Queen, took part, and where they also
played, at times so high, that in one night Prince Carlos, at a game
called "el clavo," lost 100 golden crowns, according to the declaration
of his barber Ruy Diaz de Quitanilla, who had lent them to the Prince.

To these entertainments the Queen was in the habit of inviting also all
the great ladies who had no places at Court, but who lived in Madrid, or
those who were only passing through, particularly the Princess of Évoli,
of whom she was always a great friend, and the Duquesa de Alba, Doña
Maria Enríquez, who was afterwards her Camarera Mayor, and at all times
deserved the greatest affection and respect.

Princess Juana for her part was very fond of the country, and often
retired to the Pardo, where she had brilliant concerts which were
festivals of real pleasure and enjoyment, with many musicians and
singers, whom she kept in her service and paid.

In these high circles D. John of Austria sought and found his lady love,
and here he performed his first deeds of arms and of gallantry,
thinking, in his simplicity, that the loves of youth might be found in
the midst of dangers, in the platonic spheres of the fantastic Orianas,
Angelicas, and Melisandres of whom his head was full, and who stirred
his blood and heart.

All that was most select among the youth at the Court naturally grouped
itself round D. John, and it was he who set the tone, arranged the
tournaments, hunts, cane games, masquerades and "camisadas" which then
formed the pleasures of the young nobles.

But although all sought his favour, only two became intimate with him,
and continued so until death, the Conde de Orgaz and D. Rodrigo de
Mendoza, second son of the Duque del Infantado.

At this time, too, there inserted himself first into D. John's
acquaintance and then into his friendship, a very clever youth of mean
birth and great personal charm, who afterwards brought D. John great
misfortunes, and who at that time was driving him with great astuteness
into one of the two parties which then divided the political camp at
Court. His name was Antonio Pérez, the illegitimate son of the
ecclesiastic Gonzalo Pérez, secretary first to the Emperor, then to
Philip II.

The two parties in the Court fought over the little power which the
all-absorbing personal government of Philip left to his ministers. At
the head of one was the great Duque de Alba, who represented the purely
warlike policy of force; the other was led by the Prince of Évoli, D.
Ruy Gómez, representing the opposite policy of diplomacy, intrigue and
peace.

The followers of the first were the Prior D. Antonio de Toledo, the
Prince of Mélito, the Marqués de Aguilar, and the secretary, Zayas; the
partisans of the other were the Archbishop of Toledo, D. Gaspar de
Quiroga, the Marqués de los Vélez, Mateo Vázguez, Santoyo and Gonzalo
Pérez.

It is most extraordinary that the open, generous nature of D. John did
not lead him to the side of the Duque de Alba, and that, on the
contrary, he joined the Prince of Évoli, who rather represented the
lawyers and churchmen, but no doubt the explanation must be sought in
the cleverness which this party displayed in attracting him, guessing
the genuine great qualities of the illustrious youth.

They first provided Antonio Pérez, who with adroit flatteries, in which
he was a past master, and with studied confidences as between man and
man, made D. John understand how much he was appreciated by the coterie
of Ruy Gómez, the great hopes they placed in his bravery and influence,
and how much they were trying to work on the King to name him
Captain-General of the Mediterranean galleys, as he had already
promised.

All of which, it is unnecessary to say, assumed a great air of truth in
the mouth of the son of Gonzalo Pérez, who through this channel might
well know what was happening, since it was intended that he should
succeed his father in the appointment.

When the ground was sufficiently prepared for such an important
personage to step in without danger, Ruy Gómez arranged a meeting, as if
by accident, with D. John, and repeated the same things in a different
way, adding that his appointment was already settled and that it was a
magnificent one, as also was the ship "Capitana," which was being got
ready at Barcelona, that it would not be long before his desire of
fighting the Turks was gratified at the head of a brilliant squadron,
and that was a foregone conclusion.

Gonzalo Pérez died this year (1566), and Philip II resisted the efforts
of Ruy Gómez to obtain his father's vacant secretaryship for Antonio
Pérez, giving as a pretext, not his youth, for he was thirty-two, but
the laxity of his life and the depravity of his morals.

Taking, however, as a sign of repentance and amendment Antonio Pérez's
marriage with Doña Juana de Coello Bozmediano, which was celebrated on
the 3rd of January, 1567, D. Philip hastened to bestow on him Gonzalo
Pérez's secretaryship, which delighted D. John as much as if it were the
summit of his ambitions or the triumph of his interests.

Once having caught the Prince on the weak side of his ambitions, they
wished to do so on that of his platonic love. The Princess de Évoli
undertook this, attracting him to her house, giving in his honour balls
and banquets, and putting before his eyes, and even within his reach,
the lady, the object of his then honest intentions, Doña Maria de
Mendoza, one of the ladies of the Palace, and it is thought a near
kinswoman of the restless, intriguing Princess. Such artifices did the
Princess use to influence the will and gain the confidence of the
grateful D. John, that years afterwards, when she was no longer the
intriguing, restless lady of former times, but the shameless, criminal
woman who plotted with Antonio Pérez perfidious treasons which were,
incidentally, to ruin D. John himself, the latter wrote, nevertheless,
to his friend D. Rodrigo de Mendoza with the utmost affection and blind
confidence: "I kiss the hands of my one-eyed lady, and I do not say her
eyes until I write it to her, in order that she may remember this her
friend, so much her friend now, who cannot do more, nor has anything
else to offer her in payment of his debt. And the reason that this
message is sent with so much prudence is that, coming from such a
distance, it cannot be otherwise."




                              CHAPTER VII


The figure of Doña Maria de Mendoza appears for a moment in the story of
D. John, discoloured and blurred like the melancholy picture of a fading
memory, leaving behind the sad trace of a fault repented and wept over,
and the painful sequel which human weaknesses always bring. Without the
interference of the Princess de Évoli the loves of D. John and Doña
Maria would have passed innocently away, as a bright bubble vanishes in
the air, without leaving trace or mark or memory. But the influence of
this wretched woman gave substance to his dreams and fire to his
desires, and at last made the deluded lovers fall down the precipice.

Never, however, was trouble of this sort so discreetly managed, as this
episode of D. John's first youth. Doña Magdalena de Ulloa took the
matter in hand, and by her own abnegation salved the conscience of D.
John and the honour of a noble family which he had stained. Nobody in
the Court or town suspected what had happened, and it was only after D.
John's death that Philip II himself, usually so well informed and
suspicious, heard of the existence of the daughter, the fruit of their
loves. A letter from Alexander Farnese, more well-intentioned than
prudent, informed the King of the fact, and, had it not been for a
tragic event in which years afterwards this innocent lady was mixed up,
and of which she was the victim, it is certain that her existence would
be as unknown to history as it was to her contemporaries.

All this happened between 1565, when D. John of Austria returned from
Barcelona, and 1568, when he embarked on the Mediterranean armada, and
it must have been in October, 1567, that Doña Magdalena came to the
rescue.

At the beginning of this month the Queen had given birth to a daughter,
called Catherine, after her maternal grandmother of Medicis, who was
solemnly baptized on the 19th, at three in the afternoon, in the parish
church of St. Giles, which was the church of the castle, and this was a
day of great emotion for D. John.

On waking he was presented with a magnificent dress, sent to him as a
gift by Princess Juana, as was her custom on all great occasions.

It was of cloth of silver, embroidered with green silk and gold thread,
with linings and turnings of dark red cut velvet, and to go with it a
neckband of rubies and big pearls.

D. John was simply delighted with his sister's present, because red and
green, the colours of the clothes, were those of Doña Maria de Mendoza;
a fact of which the austere Princess was doubtless quite ignorant, as
she would never have chosen these colours wittingly.

This Princess was the godmother, the Archduke Rudolph the godfather, and
D. John of Austria had to carry the baby in the procession. This was to
set out at three o'clock punctually, through one of the special passages
which used to be improvised then, and which united the castle with the
parish church of St. Giles, already at that time a convent of
bare-footed Franciscan monks.

First in the procession walked the officers of State, the gentlemen of
the bedchamber and of the table, four archers, four mace-bearers, and
the stewards of the Queen and the Princess. Four kings-at-arms followed
in very rich dalmatics, and then the Duques de Gandía and Nájera, the
Prior, D. Antonio de Toledo, the Marqués de Aguilar, the Conde de Alba
de Liste and Chinchón, D. Francisco Enríquez de Ribera, President of the
Orders, and the Stewards of the King.

Behind came six Grandees, who were the Duques de Arcos, Medina de
Rioseco, Sesa, and Bejar, and the Condes de Ureña and Benavente,
carrying respectively the hood, the taper, marchpane, salt-cellar, basin
and towel, and in the midst of them D. John of Austria, with the baby in
his arms, wrapped in a mantle of crimson velvet embroidered with gold
thread and lined with cloth of silver; on his left the Emperor's
Ambassador, and, behind, those of Portugal and France.

The two godparents came next, the Archduke Rudolph and the Princess
Juana, who was preceded by her Lord Steward, D. Juan Manrique de Lara,
and the Queen's, the Conde de Lemus, and followed by the Camarera Mayor,
Doña Isabel de Quiñones, the Infanta's governess, Doña Maria Chacón, and
the duenna Guarda Mayor, Doña Isabel de Castilla, all three in a row.
Behind them were the duennas of the Queen and the Princess, their
ladies, and the "meninas,"[6] who closed the procession.

Footnote 6:

  "The Meninas, which are a set of ladies of the nature of ladies of
  honour in that (the Spanish) Court, children in years, but higher in
  degree (being many of them daughters and heirs to Grandees of Spain)
  than ordinary ladies of honour attending likewise that queen."—From
  Heathcote MSS., page 236. _Vide_ the 1907 edition of "Memoirs of Ann
  Lady Fanshawe" (Translator's note).

But vainly amid this brilliant throng or in her allotted place D. John
sought for his lady love, Doña Maria de Mendoza, which upset him very
much, partly, no doubt, because he could not see her, and, perhaps, even
more that she should not see him, so smart, and fine and honoured, as
happens at his age and on similar occasions.

That night Doña Juana gave a ball in her apartments, in honour of her
goddaughter's christening, and, to add to D. John's anxiety, neither
Doña Maria de Mendoza nor the Princess de Évoli appeared there either.

He no doubt heard there from Doña Maria Ana de Aragón, daughter of the
Conde de Rivagorza, who was one of the Queen's ladies, and a great
friend of Maria de Mendoza, that she had gone several days before to the
house of her relative, the Princess de Évoli, which redoubled D. John's
anxiety, not only for the fact itself, but for not having been told so
by Doña Maria.

His sister Princess Juana then called him apart, and begged him, with
all the goodness of her kind heart, to make the young men improvise a
"camisada," with the double purpose of celebrating the Infanta's
christening, and of stopping, if only for one night, while the King was
at Court, the strange walks of Prince Carlos, who, at those hours, used
to visit alone the houses of ill-fame in Madrid, an arquebus in his
hand, and disguised by a false beard.

D. John agreed with the good grace he always showed in pleasing his
sister, and arranged the "camisada" with the two Archdukes Rudolph and
Ernest, the Prince of Parma, and all the young lords of the Court; but
no one succeeded in recruiting Prince Carlos, who, as usual, had slipped
away to his strange and dangerous adventures, which at that time were
the scandal of the Court.

It was already past midnight when the "encamisada" collected together in
the little square of Santiago, in front of D. John's house. This
singular amusement consisted of a large cavalcade, in which all the
riders wore white shirts over their ordinary clothes, and had their
heads disguised by picturesque turbans, plumed helmets, or queer caps
with ribbons and feathers. Each carried a lighted torch in his left
hand, and kept the right arm out of the shirt to display his lady's
colours.

In this way they went through the streets of the town until the house of
the person to be honoured was reached; then under the windows they
executed one of those equestrian dances, in which the riders of that day
were such adepts. At their passing the neighbours awoke, lighted up
their windows, and applauded the "encamisados," until in a few moments
the whole place became a scene of rejoicing and festivity.

"Camisadas" were always improvised when the scarcity of time prevented
the preparation of liveries and disguises which the more solemn
cavalcades demanded; these were also much the fashion, and were called
masquerades, although no one had his face covered.

This "Camisada" went to the royal castle from the square of Santiago,
where D. John lived; he took care that it should pass before the house
of the Princess de Évoli, where, as he had heard, Doña Maria de Mendoza
was staying.

But his alarm and astonishment grew at seeing the house all dark and
shut up, and that neither music, nor torches, nor the sound of horses,
nor even the cheers that they gave on passing the house of the Princess
attracted anyone to those shut balconies and windows; this was in itself
strange, as it was then thought an act of great discourtesy not to
display illuminations and signs of rejoicing at the passing of the
"encamisadas," except in the case of grave illness or recent mourning.

However, a man, covered by a hood, came from a little door in front of
St. Mary's Church as D. John was passing, and put his hand on his
saddle-bow and quickly gave him a short message. The agitation of D.
John knew no bounds, and his only idea was how to shorten the festivity,
and, some way or other, to end the quadrilles that had to be danced by
torchlight in the square of the Armoury. At last he escaped, and, just
as he was, covered by the shirt, hastened alone to the house of the
Princess de Évoli.

The man in the hood was still waiting for him at the little gate by St.
Mary's, in front of the house which afterwards acquired so much
historical celebrity,[7] and, without waiting, the man opened the door,
the key of which he had.

Footnote 7:

  According to tradition it was from this doorway that Philip II,
  muffled up to his eyes, witnessed the arrest of the Princess de Évoli
  in the night of July 28, 1579.

Now the mystery begins to be cleared.

D. John did not return to his own house till just before dawn, and,
according to the testimony of his valet Jorge de Lima, who was on duty
that night, neither rested a moment nor went to bed; on the contrary, he
paced up and down his room in a state of great agitation until it was
daylight and Doña Magdalena should be dressed, as was her custom, at
sunrise. Then D. John went to her rooms, where he passed the whole day,
receiving no one, and eating no food except two porringers of broth with
eggs beaten up in it which Doña Magdalena served him alone.

At dusk this lady went out in her litter to the house of the Princess de
Évoli, her old squire Juan Galarza riding on a mule. In two hours she
returned, but not alone, as she went, for she carried, carefully hidden
in her shawl, a little girl, born unexpectedly and prematurely two days
before, and already baptized by the name of Ana.

A few days later Doña Magdalena asked the King's permission to go and
visit her estates, Luis Quijada not being able to do so on account of
his duties with D. John and Prince Carlos. The King readily granted
this, and Doña Magdalena left for Villagarcia, taking the baby with the
greatest secrecy. D. John accompanied her on the first stage, and left
her at the post-house; he asked her benediction as a mother, and she
made him repeat two things he had promised, and which he religiously
performed. Not to see Doña Maria de Mendoza again, and retire, as soon
as he could without drawing attention, to the monastery of Abrojo, to
meditate for a few days on the eternal truths away from the atmosphere
of the Court.

As to Doña Maria de Mendoza, she vanished into the mist, crying like
Andromache, and never saw D. John of Austria again. She stayed for a
long time at the Princess de Évoli's house at Pastrana, and, on the
score of delicate health, retired little by little from the Court.
Without attracting anyone's attention, she succeeded in so effacing her
memory, that to-day no one knows to which branch of the house of Mendoza
she belonged, or where she lived after the sad episode which ruined her
life. It is probable that she went to some convent to weep over that
which was certainly her first false step, and very likely her only
sin.[8]

Footnote 8:

  Doña Magdalena de Ulloa brought up the child with the greatest care
  and secrecy until Doña Ana was seven years old, when she placed her in
  the convent of Augustins at Madrigal, with the intention that she
  should become a nun, as, in fact, she did, no one suspecting the name
  and rank of her ancestors. After D. John's death, in order that the
  King might help and protect her, Alexander Farnese divulged the fact
  of her existence. Philip granted her the surname of Austria and to be
  addressed as Excellency, but her name and rank were not known until
  the tragic event occurred to which we alluded in the text, which was
  as follows:

  About the year 1590 or 1591 a Portuguese Augustin monk, named Fr.
  Miguel de los Santos, arrived in Madrid. He was a wild, scheming man,
  who had been exiled from his country as a supporter of plots and
  revolts in favour of the Prior of Crato, D. Antonio, then claiming the
  throne of Portugal. He was appointed vicar of the Augustin nuns at
  Madrigal, and for this reason used to confess and see much of Doña Ana
  de Austria, who, besides being very young then, seems to have been
  also very simple. At that time there was a shepherd named Gabriel
  Espinosa, who the monk thought bore a great resemblance to the King of
  Portugal, D. Sebastian, who had been killed shortly before at the
  battle of Alcárzarquiver in Africa. All these circumstances suggested
  an intrigue to Fr. Miguel, which, daring and absurd as it was, made
  much stir in Portugal and also in Castille. He persuaded the shepherd
  to pretend that he was the King, who by a miracle had escaped from the
  famous defeat, promising him by this deception to place him on the
  throne of Portugal. The first person he made to believe his story was
  Doña Ana, pretending that God had revealed to him that she was
  destined to share the throne of the spurious D. Sebastian. The simple
  Doña Ana fell into the trap, and, convinced that the shepherd was King
  Sebastian and she chosen by heaven to be his spouse, she sent rich
  jewels to Espinosa and established an "amoroso-politica"
  correspondence with him, which still exists in the archives of
  Sinmancas. The friar used these letters to obtain deluded partisans
  for the sham king, and so many did he thus gather in Portugal as well
  as Castille, and so much did the farce grow, that Espinosa was at last
  arrested in Valladolid on suspicion and tried with the monk and Doña
  Ana. Espinosa was condemned to be dragged from prison, put in a basket
  and hanged in the square of Madrigal, quartered, and put on the
  highway and his head placed in an iron cage. Fr. Miguel de los Santos,
  after being degraded, was given over to the secular law and was hanged
  in the square of Madrigal on the 19th of October, 1595. As to Doña
  Ana, she was ordered to be transferred to the convent of Augustins at
  Aviles, rigorous seclusion in her cell for four years, and to fast on
  bread and water during this time every Friday, to lose her right to be
  an abbess and to be addressed as Excellency. This sentence was,
  however, shortly afterwards remitted, and she was transferred to las
  Huelgas at Burgos, where she was elected perpetual abbess. The
  licentiate Baltasar Porreño dedicated his life of D. John of Austria
  to her about the years 1620 to 1625.




                              CHAPTER VIII


During all this time Prince Carlos's strangeness had been increasing
little by little, until it had become madness, his overbearing nature
cruelty, and the aversion he showed to his father deep hatred.

It was in vain that, when the Prince was nineteen, D. Philip admitted
him to the Council of State (1564), and gave him a new household,
leaving Luis Quijada as Master of the Horse, but naming no less a person
than Ruy Gómez de Silva, Prince of Évoli, as Lord Steward, in the place
of D. Garcia de Toledo, lately dead.

All D. Carlos's household were the victims of his violence and abuse,
from Ruy Gómez, whom he continually threatened that, when he was King,
Ruy Gómez should know it, to the lowest barber, whom he beat with his
own hand for the least delay or mistake.

One day the King was consulting with his ministers about Flemish
affairs; the Prince, who was very curious about the subject, went to
listen at the door, with one ear at the keyhole, the Queen's ladies and
pages seeing him in this ignoble position from the gallery above. His
gentleman D. Diego de Acuña hearing of it, wanted to get him away, but
D. Carlos answered him by a slap in the face, which so enraged D. Diego
that it was with difficulty that he restrained the impulse of plunging a
dagger into the Prince's heart, and he went straight to the King and
resigned his appointment. D. Philip soothed his wounded feelings by
taking him into his own service, with doubled honours and salary.

D. Carlos insulted another of his gentlemen, D. Alonso de Córdoba, son
of the Marqués de las Navas, in the same way, slapping his face because
he did not hasten when D. Carlos called, saying that he had intended to
do it for six months, and it was fair that he should at last give vent
to his desire.

One day he waylaid Cardinal Espinosa, President of Castille (who had
exiled an actor named Cisnero, who was on intimate terms with D. Carlos,
from the Court), at the door of the Council Chamber, and rushed at him,
dagger in hand, and, pulling off his rochet, cried, "Little priest! You
dare to stop Cisnero coming to wait upon me? By the life of my father, I
must kill you." And so he would have done, had not some of the Grandees,
who hastened at the cries, released the Cardinal from him.

This insolence to great personages became monstrous cruelty to the lower
orders. In the Palace accounts, preserved in the Archives of Simancas,
one meets with entries of indemnification paid to the fathers of boys
caused to be beaten by D. Carlos. One day he wanted to throw his valet,
Juan Estévez de Lobon, out of a window into the castle moat, after
having beaten him, and he obliged a shoemaker, who had made him boots
that were too tight, to eat them cooked and cut up in small pieces.
Water fell on him one day from a window, and he at once sent a guard to
burn the house and kill the inhabitants, and, "to satisfy him," says
Cabrera de Córdoba, "the guard returned and said that the Holy Sacrament
of the Viaticum was entering the house, and for this they had respected
the walls."

On one occasion he shut himself up for five hours in the stables, and on
leaving left twenty horses rendered useless through his ill-treatment,
including a favourite one of the King's, which died two days afterwards.

He added to these cruel extravagances, the work of an unhinged mind,
unkind, barefaced exhibitions of aversion towards his father, of which
good proof was found in his papers afterwards.

Among these there was a blank book, with the title, written by the
Prince's own hand, "The Great Travels of the King Philip II," and then
on each of its pages these sneers: "The journey from Madrid to the
Pardo," "From the Pardo to the Escorial," "From the Escorial to
Aranjuez," "From Aranjuez to Toledo," "From Toledo to Valladolid," "From
Valladolid to Burgos," "From Burgos to Madrid," and "From the Pardo to
Aranjuez," "From Aranjuez to the Escorial," "From the Escorial to
Madrid," etc.

In another paper, written also by him, was "The list of my enemies," and
the first name that figured on it was "The King, my father." Then
followed Ruy Gómez de Silva, the Princess de Évoli, Cardinal Espinosa,
the Duque de Alba, and various other lords. On the other side of the
paper he had written "List of my friends," "Queen Isabel, who has always
been very good to me." And then "D. John of Austria, my much-loved
uncle," then Luis Quijada, D. Pedro Fajardo, and very few more.

Indeed, Queen Isabel and D. John were the only two people the unlucky
Prince spared in his hatred and general rudeness; and this has furnished
poets, novelists and pseudo-learned persons with the supposition that
between this unfortunate Prince, who never became a man, and the
virtuous D. Isabel of the Peace, model of queens and wives, there
existed a romantic and incestuous passion, which has served as a base
for their midnight studies, calumnies to-day for those who even
partially know history. Everyone in Madrid knew of and regretted D.
Carlos's mad conduct, and foreign Courts also knew of it, as in their
dispatches Ambassadors hastened to send the information, which has
enabled posterity to know and judge all these circumstances.

But, although D. Carlos's physical and moral defects were so well known,
there was not a Princess in Europe then who would not have been very
pleased to give her hand to the heir of the most powerful monarch in the
world.

So the various Courts began to present their candidates, first Queen
Catherine de Medicis, who proposed for the Prince of the Asturias her
younger daughter Margaret de Valois, the celebrated Margot, afterwards
Queen of Navarre. At that time the King of France, Francis II, died, and
the Guises, always friendly to Philip II, proposed their niece, the
recently widowed Mary Stuart, who was also Queen of Scotland in her own
right.

The Court of Lisbon, on their part, proposed Princess Juana, and in this
sense the great widowed Queen of Portugal, Doña Catalina, wrote to D.
Philip, with whom her opinion had much weight, as being grandmother of
Prince Carlos and the only remaining sister of the Emperor, and a lady
of such great virtues and talents. This alliance was also desired by the
nation, as, although the difference in age between the nephew and the
aunt was considerable, even this added to the great qualities of the
Princess, who had done so well during her regency, and was considered to
be a guarantee that her merit would supply the great deficiencies that
they noted and feared in D. Carlos.

Last of all, but with great probabilities of success, the Emperor
Maximilian of Austria suggested his granddaughter the Archduchess Doña
Ana.

Philip II received all these proposals with his usual reserve, neither
accepting nor refusing, and, slowly studying them, gave or took away
hopes as it suited his policy, but, as was usual in such cases, taking
into consideration neither the tastes nor wishes of his son. But D.
Carlos was not a man to have the wishes of others foisted on him, least
of all those of his father; and, without considering them, resolved to
act for himself. He asked for the portraits of the three Princesses,
and, after having carefully examined them, he resolved to fall in love
with his cousin the Archduchess Ana, and told everyone so, and even
convinced himself. He was seen passing hours gazing at the portrait of
the Archduchess, which he kept in his room in a round ebony box with
silver mouldings.

D. Carlos laid his plans, and neither with the submission of a son nor
the humility of a subject, but as from one power to another and as one
who asks and demands in his own right, he announced to the King his wish
to marry the Archduchess, and to be given the government of the States
of Flanders.

Perhaps this was Philip's own idea, and whether because it was so, or
whether to ingratiate himself with the Prince, or whether, as some say,
D. Philip did not show the same determination face to face that he
always did from afar, it is certain that he heard his son favourably,
and promised at once to negotiate his marriage with the Archduchess, to
accompany him to Flanders with the expedition which was preparing, and
himself instruct his son in the manners and customs of that country.

Satisfied by this, D. Carlos wished to secure the success of his plan by
a _diplomatic stroke_ in his own way, which he did with so much haughty
folly, that he displayed his incapacity for anything like prudence and
government before the whole of Europe.

The Cortes of Castille had been convoked since the 1st of December of
that year 1556, and the meetings were held in one of the rooms of the
castle. On the 22nd of December Philip II, as usual, went to the
Escorial for the Christmas festival, and D. Carlos availed himself of
this absence to effect his stroke.

He therefore presented himself one morning, unexpectedly, at the meeting
of the members, and, without any warning, preamble or announcement, said
in a very angry, haughty way, "You must know that my father is thinking
of going to Flanders, and I wish at all costs to accompany him. I know
that at the last Cortes you had the impertinence to ask my father to
marry me to the Princess, my aunt; I do not understand why you should
interfere with my marriage, or that it matters to you whether my father
marries me to one or the other. I do not wish that you should allow
yourselves the fresh impertinence of asking my father to leave me in
Spain, and I therefore forbid you to make such a petition, on the
understanding that the member who does this will have me for a mortal
enemy, and I will do all I can to ruin him."

Having said this, he ordered the members not to dare to say anything of
this scene to the King, and he turned his back, leaving these worthy men
astounded by his folly and insolence.

Grave disorders broke out in Flanders soon after, and the King put off
his journey, sending on the Duque de Alba to pacify those States. The
anger of Prince Carlos on hearing this knew no bounds, as he saw his
plans in danger, and felt himself passed over, thinking in his heedless
pride that, better than anyone, he could pacify the Low Countries.

The Duque de Alba could not help taking leave of the Prince when he went
to kiss the King's hand at Aranjuez, where the Court then was.

But no sooner did D. Carlos see him come into the room, than he shouted
out in a rage, that "he was not to go to Flanders, because it was his
journey; that he should not do it, and if he contradicted he should be
killed."

The Duke respectfully answered that the life of H.H. was too precious to
expose on such an expedition, that he was only going first to pacify the
States, that H.H. should then come and find himself on firm ground. But
the Prince, blind with anger, drew out his dagger and threw himself on
the Duke, crying out, "You are not to go to Flanders, or I must kill
you." The Duke took hold of both his arms, and they joined in a
struggle, until the Prince, overcome, fell back breathless. And as the
Duke continued with his reasons, in order to calm him, the Prince, all
at once, set on him again, this time treacherously, meaning to plunge
his dagger in Alba's breast. The Duke held him, and the struggle began
again, until the courtiers, this time attracted by the noise, separated
them, taking hold of the furious Prince and allowing the Duke to retire.




                               CHAPTER IX


The temporary healing of the breach between Philip II and Prince Charles
was ended by all this, and it widened again when the latter saw that the
King was beginning to delay and put obstacles in the way of his
projected marriage with the Archduchess Ana. D. Philip's reasons,
however, for so doing could not have been better or more conscientious.
Up till now the Prince's unfitness for marriage had only been a rumour,
more or less explained, to which his looks and conduct gave an
appearance of truth.

At this time circumstances occurred which made patent what previously
had only been conjectured.

From that time D. Carlos began a strange life, which offered grave
suspicions; he spent large sums of money, no one knew how; he went out
alone every night, wearing a false beard, and with an arquebus in his
hand, to all the houses of ill fame in Madrid; he came back sometimes
without his shirt, at other times he had the one he was wearing burnt in
his presence; in short, everything in him showed a strange intemperance,
in whose muddy depths, perchance, may be found the key of the mystery
which surrounds his imprisonment and death.

Because it is really extraordinary that in all the very intimate letters
which Philip II, on the imprisonment of D. Carlos, wrote to the Pope, to
the Dowager Queen of Portugal, Doña Catalina, the Prince's grandmother,
to the Emperor Maximilian and the Empress Maria, who were to have been
his father- and mother-in-law, and to the great Duque de Alba, he
hastens to clear his son from all suspicion of heresy, rebellion,
disrespect to his person, or other such crimes which would justify his
rigorous measures, and only makes an attempt to do this in all of them
by repeating almost identically the same sentence: "In excesses which
result from his nature and particular condition, which cannot be
repeated for the decency of the case and the honour and estimation of
the Prince."

At last D. Carlos, despairing of governing Flanders by his father's
leave, and also fearing that his father was breaking off his marriage
with Doña Ana, determined to fly from Spain and go to Italy, and from
thence to Flanders or Germany, as the circumstances should dictate. The
most necessary thing for this was money, and he sent his attendants,
Garci Álvarez Osorio and Juan Martinez de la Cuadra, therefore, to
borrow 600,000 ducats from among the merchants of Toledo, Medina del
Campo, Valladolid and Burgos. But the credit of D. Carlos was very bad
on those markets, because they all knew him to be as free in borrowing
as he was faithless in paying, and the efforts of Osorio and de la
Cuadra only produced a few thousand ducats.

Nothing daunted by this, D. Carlos sent Garci Álvarez Osorio to Seville
with twelve blank letters of credit, of which the text was: "The Prince.
Garci Álvarez, my attendant, who will give you this, will speak to you,
and will ask you, in my name, for certain sums of money to be lent for a
pressing and urgent necessity; I beg and charge you much to do it; on
the one hand you will perform your obligations as vassal, on the other
you will give me great pleasure. In all that concerns payment I rely on
the said Osorio, that what he settles I accept as settled. Madrid, 1st
of December, 1567."

And in his own hand: "In this you will please me much. I, the Prince."

He wrote at the same time to many of the Grandees of Spain, saying that
he had to go on a journey of great importance, and hoping that they
would accompany him and give him their aid.

These requests were answered in very different ways; some, like the
Duques de Sesa, Medina de Rioseco, and the Marqués de Pescara, answered,
without suspecting anything wrong, that, unconditionally, they would
follow him; others, more suspicious, said that they would lend their aid
to anything that was not against religion or the service of the King;
and a few, like the Admiral, knowing better how the land lay, secretly
sent the Prince's letter to the King, begging him to read and study it.

Meanwhile Garci Álvarez Osorio returned from his journey to Seville,
where he had made many good and quick negotiations on behalf of D.
Carlos, who, seeing the money, thought that everything was settled, and
began to make his final arrangements.

He wrote a long letter to the King, his father, full of bitter and
offensive complaints, throwing on him the responsibility for his
conduct, and also to the Pope, to his grandmother Queen Catalina, to all
the Princes of Christendom, Grandees, Chancellors, Courts, and cities of
the kingdom, explaining his flight, and attributing it to his father's
tyranny and hatred.

All these letters were to have been sent to their destinations after the
flight had become an accomplished fact, and meanwhile D. Carlos kept
them in a steel casket inlaid with gold, which he locked up in his
writing-table.

One thing which D. Carlos judged essential, as it was, he had not done;
this was to consult D. John of Austria. Two months before, at the
beginning of October, the King had sent for D. John to the Escorial, and
had at last granted him the command of the Mediterranean galleys, as he
had promised.

It was in one of these galleys, now anchored at Cartagena, that D.
Carlos intended to go to Italy, and it was this indispensable help,
added to the great prestige that D. John enjoyed among the nobles at
Court and all over the kingdom, which made D. Carlos think, this time
very rationally, that the success of his project perhaps depended on D.
John's yes or no. So, on Christmas Eve, he called his uncle, and was
closeted with him for two long hours in his room, unfolding his plans,
begging D. John's help, and in return making him great offers.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Anderson_

  DON FERNANDO ALVAREZ DE TOLEDO, THIRD DUQUE DE ALBA,
  CALLED THE "GRAN DUQUE"

  _By Titian. Belonging to the Duque de Berwick y de Alba. Palacio de
    Lirio, Madrid_
]

[Illustration:

  THIRD DUQUE DE ALBA, AGED 61

  _Gulliermo Key. Belonging to the Duque de Berwick y de Alba
  Palacio de Liria, Madrid_
]

According to D. Carlos, D. John could hope for nothing from the King but
stingy rewards, limited ever by his envy, avarice and tyrannical deeds;
he, on the other hand, would give D. John all a king's best friend could
hope for, and he then offered, as if he owned them, the States of Milan
or the Kingdom of Naples. D. John looked at him up and down, amazed,
without knowing whether to wonder more at the blackness of the treason
or the absurdity of the design. He understood, however, how useless and
dangerous it would be to contradict D. Carlos openly, or to throw in his
teeth, as he deserved, all the contempt and horror which his plan
inspired.

So he chose a side attack, making D. Carlos see how difficult and
dangerous an undertaking it was, the dreadful consequences to which it
might lead in Flanders and Italy, and even among the restless Spanish
Moors, the bad example of a son rising against his father, and the grave
risk there was of discovery, so many people having been told by D.
Carlos. The Prince had an answer for everything.

Everything, according to him, had been thought of and arranged, and it
only remained for Garci Álvarez Osorio to exchange for money some
letters of exchange he had brought from Seville, and for him, D. John,
as General of the Sea, to give him a safe conduct, putting at the
disposal of D. Carlos one of the galleys in Cartagena, and then to come
with the rest to join D. Carlos in that part of Italy which he should
designate.

This determined D. John. Seeing, as a Christian, a brother of the King,
and as an honourable gentleman, that there was only one way of stopping
such disasters, and in order to adopt it, he asked D. Carlos to give him
twenty-four hours in which to think the matter over. This the Prince
conceded reluctantly, as it was, according to him, necessary to profit
by the absence of the King, who had gone to the Escorial three days
before, and was to return to Madrid for the Feast of the Epiphany.

Very early the next day D. John started for the Escorial, where, as a
loyal prince and an honourable gentleman, he told his brother the absurd
plans and mischievous intentions of D. Carlos, to whom he explained his
audience as a command from the King, who had sent for him to give him
urgent orders about the galleys at Cartagena.

D. Carlos had no suspicions and continued his preparations, until the
situation was complicated by a notable incident, very characteristic of
the time. That year (1567) the general Jubilee granted by Pius V, in
honour of his elevation to the Pontificate, was being celebrated, and to
gain it he fixed the 28th of December, the Feast of the Holy Innocents.

On the 27th D. Carlos went late to the convent of St. Jerónimo to
confess and to gain the Jubilee the next day. It was already eight
o'clock, and he went in a coach, with a very small retinue. It should be
noted that the official and usual confessor of D. Carlos was Fr. Diego
de Chaves, and that on that day he asked for some other brother.

The result was that this confessor would not give the Prince absolution,
because he said that he harboured the mortal sin of hatred of a man, and
that this hate would not end until he had killed him.

The brother, as we have said, refused absolution. The Prince said,
"Father, make up your mind quickly." To which the friar answered, "Your
Highness must consult the theologians."

D. Carlos got up very much put out, and sent his coach to Atocha to
bring theologians, and fourteen came, as many as the coach, which was
small, would hold, two by two. "And then," says the account of one of
the Prince's attendants, who was there that night, "he sent to Madrid
for Alvarado the Augustin, and for Trinitario, and the Prince disputed
with each, and persisted that they should absolve him, even for killing
a man who was on bad terms with him. And as all said they could not,
they resolved, for the sake of the people, to give him an unconsecrated
wafer at communion."

"Here all the theologians became upset, as other very deep things
happened which I do not tell you. And as they were all there, and the
negotiations were going so badly, the Prior of Atocha took the Prince
apart, and with skill began to confess him and ask him the rank of the
man that he wished to kill, and he answered that he was of high rank;
but he could not drag the name from him (the Prince). The Prior deceived
him by saying, 'Sir, say who it is that it will be possible to absolve
you, according to your Highness's wish.' And then he said that it was
the King, his father, whom he was on bad terms with and had to kill. The
Prior very quietly said, 'Alone? or who do you think will help you?'

"In the end he remained without absolution or gaining the Jubilee, on
account of his obstinacy. And all this ended at two o'clock in the
night, and all the brothers left, very sad, especially his confessor,
who went the next day to the Palace and to H.M., and told him at the
Escorial all that had passed."




                               CHAPTER X


D. John of Austria's revelations painfully irritated Philip II; but he
gave no sign by which his intentions could be divined or in any way
modified the pious programme he had arranged for the festivals.

He kept D. John at the Escorial, and together they gained the Jubilee on
the 28th, and together also on the same day they witnessed the
Jerónomite Fathers take possession of the provisional convent where they
were to lodge until the sumptuous fabric of the monastery, then being
built, was ready for them.

On the 6th they were present at the consecration of the provisional
church, and on the 11th at the profession of a new monk; on that day the
King sent a circular to the Superiors of all the convents in Madrid and
its neighbourhood, ordering them to offer continual prayers that God
might inspire him with skill and resolution in an affair of the greatest
importance for the welfare of the kingdom.

It was also noticed that on those days more couriers came and went
between Madrid and the Escorial, and that the King had more frequent and
longer meetings with the lords of the Council.

On the 15th of January, 1568, D. Philip left the Escorial with his
brother and came to sleep at the Pardo. D. Carlos heard of this, and
sent an urgent message to his uncle to go secretly to the furze near the
Palace with the Prior D. Antonio de Toledo, and that he would go there
to speak to him.

D. John and the Prior waited for him in the balcony of the Palace, with
the authorisation of the King, and from there saw D. Carlos enter the
furze on horseback with five others. They went to meet him, and D.
Carlos, with much anxiety, asked if the King was very much displeased at
the bad example he had given the Court and town in not gaining the
Jubilee on the day of the Holy Innocents.

Then the Prince took D. John apart and told him that Garci Álvarez
Osorio had got the money together; that everything was ready for the
morning of the 18th, and that nothing was wanting but the safe conduct
which D. John was to give him to enable him to embark on the galleys at
Cartagena, and a document which would oblige D. John, if he did not wish
to follow at the moment, to do so at his call when he so ordered.

Driven into a corner, D. John answered that he was starting the next
day, the 17th, for Madrid, with the King, and that they could there
settle what was best.

D. Carlos went back to Madrid still of the same mind, and, not to lose
time, sent to order eight post-horses for the morning of the 18th from
the head of the post, Raimundo de Tassis.

Tassis, alarmed, answered the Prince _that all the horses were on the
road, but when they came he should be served_. And he at once informed
the King of the demand of D. Carlos, who reiterated his order again a
few hours later. The terrified post-master sent all the horses he had
out of Madrid, and hurried to the Pardo to tell the King. This happened
on the night of the 16th, and Tassis arrived at the Pardo at daybreak on
the 17th.

The same day D. Philip went to Madrid with D. John of Austria, without
displaying any hurry or anxiety, and, as he always did, went straight to
the Queen's apartments to greet her and his daughters.

Princess Juana was also waiting there for him, and, seeing him enter,
took her goddaughter, the little Infanta Doña Catalina, from her
governess, Doña Maria Chacón, and showed her to the King, that he might
admire the tiny and pretty tooth which the child had cut during his
absence. The Princess adored her godchild with all the enthusiasm and
passion of a most devoted mother.

The Queen laughed at her sister-in-law's enthusiasm, and called her the
"Portuguese," and presented the little elder Infanta, Doña Isabel Clara
Eugenia, whom the Camarera Mayor, the Duquesa de Alba, then brought. The
sad heart of D. Philip softened for a moment with that tenderness
towards his daughters which no one would have expected in the severe
monarch, and which the learned Gachard has made patent in his studies on
these two illustrious Princesses, who did so much to add lustre to the
House of Austria.

Doña Juana also made her brother D. John admire the little tooth, and at
that moment D. Carlos came into the room to welcome and kiss the hand of
the King, his father.

D. Carlos greeted him with apparent respect and pleasure, which D.
Philip received with a good grace, no less well feigned. No one would
have suspected, on seeing the royal family in such affectionate harmony,
that such a horrible affliction hovered over them.

Princess Juana spoke of the banquet and ball she thought of giving the
next day, the 19th, in honour of the birthday of her son D. Sebastian,
the King of Portugal, and wishing, as usual, to draw D. Carlos towards
the Court and its circles, and to wean him from the dark and bad ways he
frequented, she asked him to arrange with D. John a solemn masquerade
for that day, which, besides being the birthday of her son, was also his
coming of age.

With the greatest aplomb the Prince promised, and D. John did the same,
not being able to do otherwise, and the King gave his consent by nodding
his head without saying a word.

They all left the Queen's room together, and then D. Carlos, taking D.
John of Austria's arm, took him off to his rooms, which were in the
"entresol" of the Palace, looking on the side now called "el Campo del
Moro."

D. Carlos ordered the doors to be shut, and no one has ever known for
certain what passed between the nephew and the uncle during the two
hours they remained there.

At the end of this time the valets heard a noise inside, and the loud,
manly voice of D. John of Austria, who shouted indignantly, "Keep there,
your Highness."

Frightened, they opened the door, and saw D. John, looking furious,
keeping the Prince at bay with his sword, who, livid with rage, was
trying to attack D. John with sword and dagger.

The valet's account says that, "after this scene D. John went to his
house." Perhaps D. John pretended to do so, to disarm D. Carlos's
suspicion, but it is certain that he went straight to D. Philip and told
him of the occurrence. The King then feared for D. John's life, and
would not let him leave the castle. He sent and had a room prepared,
where he made D. John sleep that memorable night.

Meanwhile D. Carlos, fearful that the King would wish to see him alone,
went to bed, pretending to be ill. He was not mistaken; for soon
afterwards D. Rodrigo de Mendoza brought an order from the King that D.
Carlos should go up to his room. D. Carlos gave his pretended illness as
an excuse, and, thinking the danger past, got up again at six o'clock;
putting on a long overcoat, without dressing, and sitting in the warmth
of the fire, he supped off a boiled capon. The mad Prince had not given
up his plan for a minute, and more than ever persisted in his project of
running away the next day at dawn.

For some time past D. Carlos had taken the most extraordinary
precautions for his personal safety, above all while he was asleep. He
had sent away the gentleman who, according to etiquette, should have
slept in his room at night, and secured his door inside with a curious
mechanism which he had had made by the French engineer Luis de Foix; it
consisted of a series of springs which prevented the door opening unless
D. Carlos pulled a long red silk cord which hung at the head of his bed.

He had also had an extraordinary weapon, which he himself had devised,
and the construction of which he superintended, made by the same
engineer.

He had read of the deed of the terrible Bishop of Zamora, D. Antonio de
Acuña, who broke the head of the Alcaide of Simancas with a stone which
he carried hidden in a leather purse, as if it were a breviary.

Enchanted with the idea, the Prince ordered de Foix to make a book
composed of twelve pieces of very hard blue marble, six inches long by
four inches wide, covered, as if they were bound, with two plates of
steel masked with gold.

D. Carlos always had this disguised arm at hand, ready to break the head
of anyone as the fancy might take him, an extra proof of the traitorous
and perverse nature of the unlucky Prince.

Besides this, there was always an arquebus at the head of his bed, and
an arsenal of powder and shot hidden in his wardrobe.

After supper D. Carlos looked through the letters and papers he had
prepared, and went to bed at half-past nine, leaving by the side of his
bed a naked sword and a loaded arquebus, and having an unsheathed dagger
under his pillow.

Meanwhile all seemed to sleep in the royal castle; nevertheless, within
its walls one of the most discussed and terrible events in history was
preparing.

The King kept vigil in his room, and after eleven o'clock, one by one,
there arrived, cautiously, the Prince de Évoli, the Duque de Feria, the
Prior D. Antonio, and Luis Quijada. These were afterwards joined by two
of the King's gentlemen, D. Pedro Manuel and D. Diego de Acuña, and to
all of them D. Philip spoke "as never man spoke before," according to a
document of the period, and showed them the hard and terrible necessity
he saw of arresting and shutting up his son Prince Carlos.

The best way of carrying this out, without scandal or dangerous
resistance, was then discussed, and the King proposed his plan, which
was naturally accepted. At midnight they all descended by an inside
staircase, on tiptoe, in the dark, cautiously, not to arouse the guard,
almost trembling, as justice has to tremble sometimes, to prevent and
surprise crime.

The Duque de Feria went first, with a dark lantern in his hand; the King
followed, very pale, a cuirass under his clothes, a naked sword under
his arm, and an iron helmet on his head. Behind him came all the rest,
with naked swords, more to inspire terror and respect than because there
was need to use them. Two of the King's servants, Santoyo and Bernal,
with nails and hammers, and twelve guards with their lieutenant, also
came.

In the Prince's ante-room they met his two gentlemen, D. Rodrigo de
Mendoza and the Conde de Lerma, who were on duty, and the King gave them
orders to let no one pass.

The door of the room opened without resistance, because the King had
ordered the engineer de Foix secretly to make the Prince's springs
useless.

Ruy Gómez and the Duque de Feria approached the bed of D. Carlos with
much caution; he was sleeping soundly, and without his knowing it they
were able to put the arquebus and the unsheathed sword out of reach of
his hand; the dagger they did not find.

D. Carlos then woke, and, sitting up frightened, called out in a sleepy,
startled voice:

"Who goes there?"

"The Council of State," replied Ruy Gómez.

The Prince then threw himself out of bed with great violence and wished
to grasp his weapons; with this movement the dagger slipped down, and
Ruy Gómez picked it up from the ground. At the same time the Duque de
Feria opened his lantern, and the Prince found himself face to face with
his father.

He threw himself back and cried, all beside himself, putting both hands
to his head, "What is this? Does Y.M. wish to kill me?"

The King answered very quietly that he wished to do the Prince no harm,
but that he wished him and all the kingdom well. Then he ordered the
servants to bring lights, to nail up the windows, and take away all
arms, even to the fire-irons.

The Prince then realised that he had let himself be arrested, and in his
shirt, as he was, he threw himself on the King, crying, "Kill me, Y.M.,
but do not arrest me, because it is a great scandal for the kingdom;
and, if not, I shall kill myself."

To which the King answered, "Do not do this, which would be the act of a
madman."

"I shall not do it as a madman, but because I am desperate at Y.M.
treating me so ill."

Tearing out his hair, and gnashing his teeth in a way horrible to hear,
he tried to throw himself headlong into the fire. The Prior seized his
shirt, and between them they once more placed him in his bed, "and many
other arguments passed," says the valet's account, "none of them were
ended, it not being the time or place for this."

Meanwhile the King ordered that the papers of D. Carlos should be sought
for and collected. Then appeared the steel casket with the prepared
letters inside, the book of travels, the list of friends and enemies,
and other documents, some silly, some culpable, all compromising.

The King then retired, taking the papers with him, having ordered and
arranged, with the most scrupulous exactitude, everything referring as
much to the service and care of the Prince as to his most strict
restraint.

The consternation of the people of Madrid, on hearing the next day of
the imprisonment of the Prince, knew no bounds.

"The most sane looked at each other," says Luis Cabrera de Córdoba,
"sealing their lips with a finger and silence: and breaking it, some
call (the King) prudent, others severe, because his laugh and his sword
went together. The Prince, unlucky youth, had thought ill and talked
with resentment, but had done nothing; without such extremes he could
have punished his unwarned heir, as they do in other countries. Others
say that he was a father, and very wise, and that much force drove and
obliged him to this determination. Others, that princes are jealous of
those who are to succeed them, and that cleverness, bravery, and great,
generous natures displease them in their sons; and that if the King
fears them, the subjects will fear them more, and that to secure them
they should give them a share in the government with moderation. Others,
that by a bad instinct heirs are spurred on by the desire to reign and
be free, and that few loyal acts come from discontented heads, as the
Prince wished to be with the Flemings."

The distress of the Queen and Princess Juana was very great, and in vain
they both implored the King, over and over again, to be allowed to visit
the Prince. D. John came that evening to the Queen's apartment, dressed
carelessly in dark clothes, as a sign of mourning, but the King reproved
him, and ordered him to attire himself as usual.




                               CHAPTER XI


D. John of Austria never saw Prince Carlos again, or heard from the lips
of D. Philip the slightest allusion to his unhappy son. These sad events
drew the brothers together, and it must be confessed that D. Philip was
at this time a real father to D. John.

At the beginning of May, 1568, he announced to D. John that the hour had
come for him to take command of the galleys of Cartagena, first to meet
and escort the fleet coming from the Indies, and then to clear the
coasts of the Mediterranean of corsairs.

These pirates went far inland with the greatest effrontery, and it was
known that their real leader and protector, Selim II, was having galleys
and engines of war constructed with the intention of taking them to the
Ionian Sea.

The news of the expedition prepared for D. John filled the young nobles
with enthusiasm, as formerly the unlucky Maltese one had done, and the
flower of them hastened to enlist under his banner.

D. Philip was pleased to see his brother's influence, which might be so
useful to his political ends, and, in order to stimulate and inspire
warlike ardour in these illustrious volunteers, divided the galleys
among parties of four, giving the command of each to a captain, chosen
from among them, who afterwards were commonly called "cuatraldos."

As lieutenant to D. John, D. Philip named no less a person than D. Luis
de Requesens, Knight Commander of Castille, who was ambassador at Rome,
and, as secretaries, Juan de Quiroga, already acting as such, and
Antonio de Prado, a man of great parts, who was afterwards a statesman
under Philip III.

Among the brilliant band of volunteers who followed D. John the most
distinguished were D. Martin de Padilla, who was afterwards Governor of
Castille and Captain-General of the Ocean; D. Pedro de Cervellon, D.
Juan de Zúñiga, afterwards Conde de Miranda; D. Francisco de Rojas,
afterwards Marqués de Poza and President of the Treasury; the brothers
D. Jerónimo and D. Antonio de Padilla, D. Luis de Córdoba, D. Juan de
Gúzman, D. Alonso Portocarrero, D. Rodrigo de Benavides, D. Mendo
Rodriguez de Ledesma; D. Hernando de Gamboa, D. José Vázguez de Acuña,
D. Hernando de Prado, D. Pedro Zapata de Calatayud, and D. Hernando de
Zanguera.

All these gentlemen accompanied D. John to take leave of the King, who
was at Aranjuez, and were received with much attention by all the Court.
On saying good-bye D. Philip handed to his brother, for his guidance,
the following document, written by his own hand, notable for the great
maxims for the rule and conduct of a prince which it contains, and for
the fraternal solicitude which it shows on the part of Philip II towards
his brother:

    "Brother: Besides the instructions which you have been given
    respecting the appointment of Captain-General of the Ocean, and
    its powers and duties: for the great love I have for you, and
    also that in your person, life and manners, you should possess
    the estimation and good name persons of your rank should have,
    with this end it has occurred to me to give you the following
    instructions. First, because the foundation and beginning of all
    great things and of all good counsels is God, I charge you much,
    that as a good and real Christian, you take this as the
    beginning and foundation of all your doings and enterprises, and
    that you dedicate to God, as your chief aim, all your business
    and affairs, from whose hand comes all the success of your
    undertakings, negotiations and labours. And that you will take
    great care to be very devout and God-fearing, and a good
    Christian, not only in reality, but also in appearance and
    demonstration, setting all a good example, that by this means
    and on this foundation God may show you grace and your name and
    fame may always be increasing.

    "Be very particular to go to Confession, especially at Christmas
    and Easter and on other solemn days, and to receive the Holy
    Sacrament, if you are in a place where you are able to do so;
    every day, being on land, hear Mass; and perform your devotions
    with fervour at stated times, as a good and very Catholic
    Christian.

    "Truth and the keeping of one's word and promise are the basis
    of credit and esteem on which are founded and built up friendly
    intercourse and confidence. This is required, and is the more
    necessary for great ones, and those who have important public
    duties, because on their truth and integrity depend faith and
    public safety. Be sure that in this you take great care and
    pains, that it should be known and understood everywhere that
    trust may be placed in what you say, as besides its affecting
    public matters and your appointment, it matters much to your own
    honour and esteem.

    "Use justice with impartiality and rectitude, and when necessary
    with the severity and example the case requires: as regards this
    be firm and constant; and also when the quality of persons or
    things permit it, be pitiful and mild, as these are very
    appropriate virtues in people of your rank.

    "Flattery and words leading to it are ignoble in those who use
    them, and a shame and offence to those to whom they are
    addressed. To those who make these professions, and treat you
    thus, show by your face and manner that they may understand how
    little acceptable to you such conversation is. Do the same to
    those who in your presence speak ill of the honours and persons
    of the absent, that such conversation should not take place,
    because, besides being prejudicial and an injury to the third
    person, it tends to turn them from your authority and
    estimation. You must live and act with great prudence as regards
    all that concerns the uprightness of your private life, because
    forgetfulness of this, besides being an offence to God, will
    bring about inconveniences, and cause a great stumbling-block to
    the work and fulfilment of what you have to do, and will entail
    other risks which are dangerous and of evil consequence and
    example. Excuse yourself, when possible, from games, especially
    cards and dice, on account of the example you should set others,
    and because, in gambling, it is not possible to act with the
    moderation and restraint which is required in persons of your
    rank. And it often happens that, through gambling, men in high
    positions lose their temper and dishonour themselves. I charge
    you, that if at any time you play to amuse yourself, you should
    preserve the decorum due to your person and authority.

    "Swearing, without the greatest necessity which obliges one to
    do so, is very wrong for every man and woman, and takes away
    good opinion, but, above all, in men of position, in whom it is
    very indecent and goes against their credit, dignity, and
    authority, so I charge you to be very careful about swearing,
    and never to swear by God or other rare oaths, which neither are
    nor should be used by people of your rank.

    "As I wish that your table, food and way of living should be
    suitable, use the decency, ostentation and cleanliness that is
    proper; but also it is well that there should be much moderation
    and temperance, because of the example that you have set to all,
    and because of the profession of arms which you have to follow,
    and because it is good, and it is well for you to show
    moderation and temperance, because your table has to settle the
    rule and order for the rest.

    "Be careful not to say anything rude or injurious to anyone,
    that your tongue may be used to honour and do favours, and to
    dishonour no one. You should punish those who err or commit
    excesses, being just to all. This punishment should not come
    from your mouth with haughty words, or from your hand. And also
    be very careful that in your usual ways and talk you use modesty
    and temperance without ill-temper or arrogance, which are things
    that detract much from a person's authority. And at the same
    time have a care that your conversation and that which takes
    place in your presence is decent and straightforward, as is
    required by your rank and person.

    "Also be very courteous in your intercourse with every sort of
    person, being very affable, quiet and gracious, maintaining the
    decency and decorum of your person and office, because
    affability gains people's affection, but also preserves the
    reputation and respect that are due to you. In winter, and at
    other times, when you are not at sea, but on land, do not
    neglect the business of your appointment, to which you should
    pay great attention; occupy yourself in good exercises,
    especially those of arms; in which also those gentlemen who
    reside with you should occupy themselves, avoiding by these
    exercises, expenses, ostentation and excesses, and that all
    should be prepared for the real exercise of arms. The use of
    these will make the said gentlemen dexterous and expert in any
    occasion that may offer. And also by this means the said
    expenses and extravagance in vesture, clothes and everyday life
    are avoided, giving an example by what you yourself and your
    servants wear.

    "This is what it has occurred to me to remind you about,
    confident that you will act in an even better manner than what I
    have told you.

    "It is for you only, and for this, goes, written by my hand.

           "At Aranjuez, the 23rd of May, 1568. I, the King."




                              CHAPTER XII


D. John arrived at Cartagena quite at the end of May, and found, waiting
for him there, his lieutenant, the Knight Commander D. Luis de
Requesens, who lodged in his house. By the King's orders, D. Álvaro de
Bazán, who was afterwards first Marqués de Santa Cruz, D. Juan de
Cardona and the veteran Gil Andrada were also waiting for him as
councillors.

They took him first to visit the galleys anchored in the port, and D.
John was as much pleased as surprised at the "Capitana" which his
brother the King had had prepared for him, with all the improvements of
the time.

It was a galley of the Venetian type, with sixty oars, as easy to
navigate as it was strong to attack or resist. The hulk had been built
in Barcelona of Catalonian pine, which is the best timber for ships in
Asia, Africa or Europe, and the magnificent poop in Seville according to
the designs of the painter and architect Juan Balesta Castello, surnamed
the Bergamesco. The keel measured 468 "palms" and the deck 492 "palms,"
and it stood 72 "palms" above the water.

It was painted white and red, and the stern was adorned with fine
pictures and friezes and ornaments, all symbolical of the qualities a
great captain should possess.

By the bowsprit there were large pictures divided by two spaces; the
centre one represented the capture of the "Golden Fleece" by Jason, who,
according to Pliny, was the first man to sail in "nao prolongada," the
right-hand picture represented Prudence and Temperance, the left-hand
one Fortitude and Justice, and in the dividing tapestries were displayed
on one the god Mars, with the sword of Vulcan and the shield of Pallas,
and this motto—_Per saxa, per undas_—and in the other the god Mercury,
with his finger on his lips, as one commanding silence, with this
legend—_Opportune_.

From here extended on each side great chains of the "Golden Fleece,"
interlaced with masks and other symbolical pictures, which reached to
the prow, the figurehead being a powerful Hercules, leaning on his club.
Over the stern shone the great lantern, emblem of command, of wood and
bronze, all gilt, crowned with a statue of Fame.

On the 2nd of June the first council presided over by D. John was held,
the Knight Commander D. Luis de Requesens, D. Álvaro de Bazán, D. Juan
de Cardona, and Gil Andrada being present. It was the first council that
D. John had presided over, and without showing self-sufficiency
unsuitable to his years, or the timidity very natural to them, he at
once gave proof of one of the best qualities a leader can possess, in
order to direct and govern: _To know how to ask and how to listen_. The
council decided to set sail without loss of time, to fall in with the
fleet coming from the Indies, and escort it as far as Sanlucar de
Barrameda; then to go and follow the corsairs along all the
Mediterranean coast to the ports of France and Italy.

The embarkation and departure were fixed for the 4th, and it was a brave
sight that the beautiful port of Cartagena offered that day. The
thirty-three galleys which composed the fleet were dressed with the
magnificence of the period, streamers hung from the lower decks,
pendants from the yards, banners at the stern; and the most beautiful of
all, the "Capitana," flying, by D. John's orders, as well as the royal
ensign, the standard of Our Lady of Guadeloupe.

Very early that morning D. John confessed and received communion, and at
nine o'clock went on board the "Capitana," followed by a great retinue.
Then all the galleys burst forth with salvos of artillery, and music of
drums, and trumpets and clarions and Moorish horns; the crews manned the
rigging, the people in feluccas and on the mole, crowded so together
that many fell into the water, cheered wildly, and D. John, the great D.
John that Doña Magdalena had made of the humble Jeromín, held up his
head as if among the smoke of the powder he smelt the perfume of the
glory which was coming to meet him, and felt his chest swell and his
heart expand as if for the first time he realised Heaven's high mission
for him, which was announced not long afterwards to the world by the
great Pontiff Pius V, in these words:

_Fuit <DW25> missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes._

(There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.)

The expedition lasted until the middle of September, when the fleet
returned to Barcelona to winter in that port, according to the custom of
those times, except in the case of great urgency or grave peril, during
the months of October, November, December and January.

In this expedition, however, there were neither dangers, nor battles,
nor rich and abundant prizes. But there was for D. John (and this was
Philip II's idea in giving him the command) deep and practical
instruction in the working of a fleet and of disembarking an army; a
very useful apprenticeship in the way of combining and directing these
united forces, and a good opportunity to display to great and small
those gifts of energy and courtesy which make the perfect leader, and
with which with so unsparing a hand God had endowed D. John of Austria.

His sure, sound judgment, his prudence in deciding, his frankness and
courage in performing, and his firmness and energy in reprimanding and
punishing revealed to all in the new leader the not unworthy son of
Charles V; and his noble magnanimity towards the vanquished, his
gracious compassion for the unfortunate, and his respectful charity
towards all the poor and miserable, be they ever so low and vile, also
revealed the former Jeromín who marshalled Doña Magdalena's poor people
in the courtyard of Villagarcia, cap in hand, and who had learnt from
that noble woman to see and respect in the poor the image of Our Lord.

Never, she used to say, does a crucifix cease to be a symbol of our
redemption; even though evil hands have profaned it and thrown it on the
dust-heap, it will always be capable of being cleaned and polished, and
always merits the same veneration. In the same way, no man ceases to be
the "_redeemed of Christ_"; and, however tarnished by infamy and stained
by crime, is always susceptible of repentance and pardon, and will
always merit the respect appertaining to that which has cost the blood
of God.

This expedition, then, made firm the pedestal on which had been erected
the great figure of D. John of Austria, and thenceforward he was looked
up to by the captains as a leader, loved like a father by the soldiers
and crews of the ships; the poor galley slaves, _tied to the hard
bench_, saw in him a sort of archangel who descended to the purgatory of
their prison to ease their work and raise their hopes, and never
throwing their offences in their teeth.

The death of Prince Carlos was announced to D. John when he disembarked
at Barcelona; it had occurred two months before on the 24th of July, the
Eve of St. James's Day, while D. John was at sea. This news affected him
greatly, not so much for the death of the Prince, which was holy and
Christian, and the best thing that could have happened to the unlucky
man, but more for the sorrow he imagined it would cause to D. Philip as
King and father.

These sad warnings of the uncertainty of life made D. John remember the
promise he had made Doña Magdalena de Ulloa to retire for a while to the
convent of Abrojo to meditate in solitude on the eternal truths, and
this seemed to him the best opportunity of fulfilling his word.

The King gladly gave permission, and D. John set out for Madrid and from
thence to Valladolid, where Doña Magdalena de Ulloa was waiting for him.
There the sad news reached him that his sister-in-law, the good and
gentle Queen, Doña Isabel of the Peace, had died on the 3rd of October
(1568); this fresh sorrow spurred D. John on to put into execution his
design of retiring to the convent of Abrojo, with only two valets and
the secretary Juan de Quiroga.

The monastery of Scala-Cœli, commonly called "of Abrojo," from the wood
of that name in the midst of which Alvar Deaz de Villacreses founded it,
was a convent of bare-footed Franciscans, situated in this thicket, half
a league from Valladolid. The Kings of Castille had much veneration for
it and made it a royal fortress, surrounding it with towers and
battlemented walls, and by the church they kept for themselves a humble
lodging where they retired for certain religious solemnities and in
their times of mourning and sorrow.

There was, in D. John's day, a very devout servant of God, called Fr.
Juan de Calahorra, at Abrojo, who had known him as Jeromín in his
youthful days, and had confessed him and often directed him in
Valladolid and Villagarcia.

D. John much esteemed his holiness and gentle ways, and wished to keep
the brother at his side as confessor and spiritual director during all
the time he was in retreat, which was more than two months.

But during this time alarming news reached the solitude of the convent
of Abrojo of the rebellion of the Moors of Granada, and Juan de Quiroga,
who, like all those who knew him well, simply adored D. John and
recognised his military qualities, which only needed scope in which to
expand and triumph, advised him to beg the King to give him the command
of the expedition.

D. John was fired with the idea, but first desired to consult Fr. Juan
de Calahorra and Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, who came to see him several
times during those two months. The brother much applauded the project,
and as if moved by a spirit of prophecy, said to D. John _that not only
would he obtain the command, but that it would procure a great name for
him throughout Europe_.

As to Doña Magdalena, she equally approved of the idea, and insisted on
its realisation with even more warmth than Juan de Quiroga or the
brother; according to her, the indolent luxury of the Court was always
harmful to D. John's youth, and only the responsibilities and hardships
of war could keep the proper balance of his ardent nature.

And expressing herself more freely to Fr. Juan de Calahorra, the
discreet lady said, "As only the King can marry him to a princess, let
us meanwhile betroth him to war; masking her ugliness with the cosmetics
of glory."

Satisfied by this, D. John posted to Madrid, and before presenting
himself to his brother D. Philip, sent him the following letter:

    "Y.C.R.M. The obligation I am under to Y.M., and my natural
    faith for and love for you, make me always tell you what seems
    to me suitable, with all submission. I informed Y.M. of my
    arrival in Madrid, and the reason why I came, and I thought that
    it was not necessary to worry Y.M. with papers of so little
    importance as mine. Now I have heard of the state of the
    rebellion of the Moors at Granada, and how hard pressed the city
    is, and the rumour is certainly true; as the vindication of
    Y.M.'s reputation, honour and greatness, lowered by the
    impudence of these rebels, is very near my heart, I cannot help
    breaking the obedience and submission I have always shown to the
    will of Y.M., by telling you my own and begging Y.M. (as it is
    the honour of kings to be constant in their favours and to make
    men by their hand), as I am Y.M.'s handiwork, to use me to apply
    your punishment, and you know that you can trust me more than
    others, and that no one can better inflict it on these rascals
    than I can. I confess that they are unworthy of much notice and
    that someone to punish them is all that is required; but as
    people, however vile, when they are strong become proud, and as
    they say that this is not wanting in the present case, it is
    necessary to deprive them of power: the Marqués de Mondejar is
    not strong enough for this (because they say that he disagrees
    with the President and that he is obeyed with a bad grace) and
    it is advisable to send someone who, like me, is naturally
    inclined to such work, and I am as obedient to the royal will of
    Y.M. as clay in the potter's hand, and it would seem to me a
    grave offence against my love, my inclination, and what I owe to
    Y.M. if I do not fulfil this duty; but well I know that those
    who serve Y.M. and are under your royal hand hold all securely
    and can ask for nothing further, but this is no reason why this
    action should be blamed, it should rather be esteemed. If I gain
    my wish, it will be sufficient reward. For this I came from
    Abrojo; which I should not have presumed to do without an
    express order from Y.M. except on such important service for
    Y.M. Our Lord keep the C. and R. person of Y.M.

    "From the inn, the 30th of December, 1568. From Y.M.'s handiwork
    and most humble servant who kisses your royal hand.

                                                   "D. JOHN OF AUSTRIA."




                              CHAPTER XIII


It is certainly extraordinary that a king, so well informed and cautious
as Philip II, did not foresee at once the terrible consequences which
the rebellion of the Moors of Granada in 1568 might have for Spain and
for all Christendom. And it is the more surprising considering that all
nations, alarmed from the beginning, never removed their eyes off that
corner of the Alpujarras and took precautions according as the defeat or
triumph of the rebels suited their interests. The rebels triumphant and
the shores of Andalucia open to the "Berberiscos," Moors and Turks who
favoured and encouraged them, would make realisable the treasured dream
of Selim II of subjugating Spain, a not impossible task for the
formidable power of the Turk at that time.

The rebellion had been well prepared beforehand, but it broke out
suddenly, as flames fanned by the gentlest wind may burst out from a
heap of dry wood which has long lain on embers.

It was whispered in Granada that the Moors of the Albaicin had joined
with those of the Vega and the Alpujarras to invade the town and behead
the old Christians, and it was held for certain that they were in treaty
with the Kings of Algiers and Tunis and Selim's Turks to raise their
standards and make over the kingdom to them. All in Granada was
consequently suspicion, want of confidence and of trust: houses shut up,
shops deserted, commerce with the neighbouring places interrupted and
the people always nervous and cautious, taking refuge every moment in
the Alhambra and the churches, as being the strongest places.

Things were in this state on the 16th of April, 1568, Easter Eve; the
night was closing in, dark and rainy, when between eight and nine
o'clock suddenly the bell of the fortress of the Alhambra began to ring
the alarm furiously. Fear was everywhere, which was even more increased
by hearing the sentinel who rang cry, terrified, "Christians, save
yourselves. Look out for yourselves, Christians! This night you are to
be beheaded."

The confusion was dreadful; half-dressed women threw themselves even
from the windows; men came out buttoning their jackets and clothes and
trooped to charge the arquebuses and get ready the crossbows. The
brothers of St. Francis arrived at the square all armed with arquebuses,
and other friars formed up before the "Audiencia Real" in a company with
pikes and halberds.

There also hurried up, each one as he could, the Corregidor, the
President of the Chancellery, D. Pedro Deza, and the Conde de Tendella,
Captain-General in the absence of his father the Marqués de Mondejar,
and then it was known to be a false alarm.

The alguacil Bartolme de Santa Maria, who was on guard, had sent four
soldiers at nightfall to the tower of the Aceituno on the top of the
hill on which the suburb of the Albaicin was situated; the night was
extremely dark; the soldiers had torches of esparto grass to light them,
and arriving at the foot of the tower, the ascent to which was open and
difficult, those who first gained the summit waved their torches to give
light to those who were climbing up, and when they had arrived, threw
the torches down. The watchman on the Vela tower, seeing this movement
of lights and thinking that the Moors of the Albaicin were making
"almenares," that is signals to those of the Vega from the tower of the
Aceituno, hastened to ring the tocsin; which showed the state of
excitement of those souls and how much they certainly feared from one
moment to another that the Moors intended to slay the Christians.

This simple explanation did not quiet the frightened people, and the
crowd began to attack the Albaicin and to be beforehand with the Moors
by killing them. So the Corregidor, with gentlemen and other trustworthy
persons, then guarded the lanes which mounted up to the Albaicin to
impede the passage of the crowd. But nothing would have stopped the
pillage and bloodshed, if a violent storm of thunder and lightning had
not come at that moment to clear the streets and damp the fury of the
citizens.

Meanwhile all seemed to sleep in the Albaicin; but behind the barred
doors and shut windows the Moors were watching in ambush, prepared for
defence, and, knowing that night the risk they ran if they let the
Christians be beforehand, resolved to hasten the atrocious undertaking
that they were meditating. They met in the house of a wax chandler of
the Albaicin named Adelet, and there discussed their doubts and laid
their plans.

They decided to strike the blow on New Year's Day and not at Christmas
as they had intended, because there existed a prophecy that the Moors
would regain Granada on the same day as that on which the Christians
took it, which was the 1st of January, 1492. It was determined to make a
register among the farms of the Vega and the villages of Decrin and
Orgiba of 8000 men, who were to be ready, at a signal made to them from
the Albaicin, to attack the town by the gate of the Vega, wearing
 caps and Turkish head-dresses so as to inspire confidence in
some and terror in others, passing themselves off as Turks or Berbers
who had come to help the Moors.

This register was well filled by two saddle-makers, who, making a
pretext of their trade, went through all these places without awaking
anyone's suspicions. They also enrolled among the mountains another 2000
picked men, who, hidden in a bed of reeds, should wait the signal of the
Albaicin to scale the wall of the Alhambra, which looks towards the
Generalife, with seventeen ladders which were being made in Quejar and
Quentan; they were ladders of hempen rope with rungs of wood so wide
that three men could easily mount at the same time. The attack which was
to be made on Granada from outside being arranged, they then settled
that which the Moors of the Albaicin were to make from within. They
divided themselves into three parties each with a head. Miguel Acis with
the inhabitants of the parishes of St. Gregory, St. Christopher and St.
Nicholas and a flag of crimson silk with a silver half-moon and a fringe
of gold were to take the gate of Frax el Leuz on the top of the
Albaicin; Diego Miqueli with the dwellers of St. Salvador, St. Elizabeth
and St. Luis and a yellow silk flag the square of Bib-el-Bonut; and
Miguel Moragas with the people of St. Michael, San Juan de los Reyes,
and St. Peter and St. Paul and a flag of turquoise-blue damask the gate
of Guadix.

When united all were to fall first on the Christians who lived on the
Albaicin, beheading them without truce or pity. Then the first group
would descend to the town to the prisons of the Holy Office to release
the Moorish prisoners, killing and burning all in their path. The second
group was to go to the town prisons to liberate the prisoners, then to
murder the Archbishop and burn his palace. The third group was to attack
the Royal Courts, murder the President, and set free the Chancery
prisoners, all reuniting in the square of Bibarrambla, whither the 8000
Moors of the Vega were also to repair. From there they would go all over
the city, as it seemed best, to put everything to fire and sword. The
principal instigator of these plans was the sanguinary Farax Abenfarax,
an African renegade, of the house of the Abencerrajes, a bandit of the
kind the Moors call "monfies." To this fierce and brutal man the Moorish
conspirators entrusted the work of making known this decree in the
Alpujarras, and the summoning of a numerous assembly to elect a king,
assuring them that from that moment the choice of the Alpujarras should
be confirmed in the Albaicin.

This chosen man was D. Hernando de Valor, a very rich Moor of the
Alpujarras, a descendant of Mahomet through the families of Aben-Humeyas
and Almanzores, Kings of Córdoba and Andalucia. D. Hernando's ancestors,
as they lived in a place in the mountains called Valor, had taken the
name. He was a youth of twenty-four, swarthy, with scanty beard, big
black eyes, eyebrows that joined, and a very fine figure; sensual,
vindictive, sly and false, and, as he showed himself later, extremely
wicked.

He was elected according to the ancient ceremony of the Kings of
Andalucia, widowers at one end, those going to be married at the other,
the married on one side, the women on the other: in the midst the
priest, an "alfaqui," who read an ancient Arab prophecy, that a youth of
royal lineage who was baptized and a heretic to his law, because in
public he professed that of the Christians, should liberate his people.

They all shouted that these signs were found united in D. Hernando; the
alfaqui assured them that according to his observations the courses of
the stars testified to the same thing and hastened to clothe him in rich
purple, and to put round his neck and shoulders a  badge, like a
sash, and on his head a crown with a cap also of purple. They spread
four flags on the ground, for the four quarters of the world, and D.
Hernando prayed, leaning over them, with his face to the east, and
swearing to die in his law and his kingdom, defending them and his
vassals. Then he lifted one foot and, as a sign of general obedience,
Farax Abenfarax prostrated himself in the name of all and kissed the
ground where the new king had stood. Then he was lifted up on their
shoulders and all shouted, "May God exalt Mahomet Aben-Humeya, King of
Granada and of Córdoba."

This act made him King, and he named officers and gave appointments,
among others that of Chief Magistrate to Farax Abenfarax and that of
Captain-General to his uncle D. Fernando el Zaguer, called in Arabic
Aben Jauher. He sent his ambassadors to the Kings of Algiers and Tunis,
notifying his election and asking for brotherly help: to which they
replied with great promises and demonstrations, offering to send galleys
with men, arms, and provisions, which should be known by their red-dyed
sails.

Meanwhile the month of December had arrived and Farax Abenfarax went
secretly to Granada, leaving the sedition prepared behind him, like a
train of powder which can be fired in a second when the moment arrives.

But the covetousness and ill-contained hatred of the Moors took fire
before the time. On the 28th of December seven clerks of the Courts of
Ujijar of Albacete set out for Granada guided by a Moor; they were going
to spend Christmas with their wives and were taking a large quantity of
fowls, chickens, honey, fruits and money.

Entering a vineyard at the boundary of Poqueira, they met, lying in wait
for them, a band of armed Moors, who spoiled them of everything and put
them to a cruel death. One called Pedro de Medina escaped with the
guide, and they went to raise the alarm in Albacete de Orgivar. The same
day five squires of Motril, also going to Granada with Christmas
presents, met with a similar fate. That night there arrived to sleep at
Cadiar the captain Diego de Herrera with his brother-in-law Diego de
Hutado Docampo, of the order of Santiago, and fifty soldiers who were
carrying arquebuses for the fort of Adra. D. Fernando el Zaguer,
Captain-General and uncle of the new King, was hiding in the place, and
he arranged with the other conspirators this blackest treason. He made
all his neighbours give hospitality to one soldier, and at midnight, at
a preconcerted signal, beheaded them all, from the captain downwards, so
that only three remained to return to Adra.

These tidings did not alarm the authorities of Granada as they should
have done; on the other hand, the Moors of the Albaicin mistrusting
them, and fearing lest the hasty rashness of their brothers in the
country should have compromised their plans, hastened to send messengers
everywhere to say that nothing was to be done without fresh orders from
the Albaicin, which was, according to them, the head-quarters.

But the impetuous Farax was not of this mind, and thinking, on the
contrary, that everything would be lost if the events were not pushed
forward, decided to enter the Albaicin that same night and either rouse
the Moors or compromise them.

He then recruited as best he could 180 men from the nearest villages,
and with them went round Granada, defying the cold and the snow which
fell that night, the 25th of December, a Saturday, the first day of
Christmas.

Punctually at twelve o'clock he reached the gate of Guadix, which was in
the wall of the Albaicin; breaking down a mud wall, closed by a small
door, with pikes and implements that they had taken by force from some
mills on the Darro, they entered the town and went straight to his
house, joining the parish church of St. Elizabeth, leaving his people to
guard the door, wearing  Turkish caps and over them white gauze
head-dresses, so that they might appear to be Turks.

Farax summoned the principal leaders of the rebellion there and tried to
persuade them of the necessity of rising as one man that same night; but
they of the Albaicin, false and disloyal even to their own brothers,
thinking that enough had already been done to frighten the Christians
without further exposing their lives or properties, excused themselves
on the score of lack of time and of men, as of the 8000 men who were to
accompany him he had only brought 180.

Then Farax, in a fury and mad with rage, insulted them, and, two hours
before dawn, assembled his people and with horns, drums and "dulzainos,"
went through all the streets of the Albaicin, giving mournful cries.
They carried two unfurled flags, between which went Farax Abenfarax, a
lighted candle in his hand, the white Turkish head-dress stained and the
thick, unkempt beard covered with fresh gore. He was small, fat, with an
enormous stomach and such long, powerful arms that they seemed deformed.
The sight of him certainly inspired terror in the flickering light of
the candle; when he stopped from time to time he threw back his enormous
head, turned up his bloodshot eyes and cried in Arabic, in a hoarse and
mournful voice, "There is no God but the one God, and Mahomet is his
prophet. All Moors who wish to revenge the injuries which Christians
have done to their law and persons will be revenged by joining this
banner, because the King of Algiers and the Cherif, whom God exalt,
favour us and have sent all these people and those who are waiting for
us up there."

And all the rest answered in a chorus, "Well! Well! Come! Come! as our
hour has arrived and all the land of the Moors has risen."

Nobody, however, responded to the call, nor did a single door or window
open, nor was any noise heard, as if the quarter was a real city of the
dead. Only, they say, an old man shouted to them from a housetop,
"Brothers! Go with God, you are few and come out of season."

They reached the square of Bib-el-Bonut, where was the house of the
Jesuits, brought there by the Archbishop D. Pedro Guerrero, and called
by name for the famous Padre Albotodo, who was of Moorish origin,
insulting him and calling him a renegade dog, who, being the son of
Moors, had made himself the alfaqui of the Christians, and as they could
not break the door, which was strong and well barred, they contented
themselves with destroying a wooden cross which was placed over it.

Now the bells of Salvador began to sound the alarm, because the Canon
Horozo, who lived at the back of the sacristy, had got in by a hidden
door and was ringing them. Farax then returned to the <DW72> by which the
tower of the Aceituno is reached, and from there made another
proclamation; and as nobody flocked here either, he began to insult
those of the Albaicin, crying, "Dogs! Cowards! You have deceived the
people and do not wish to fulfil your promise." And with this outburst
he left, as dawn had come, and was lost in the distance amid the
tempest, like the coming and going of the threatening storm which
discharges itself elsewhere.

Next day the hypocritical Moors of the Albaicin descended to the
Alhambra and begged the Marqués de Mondejar to help and protect them
against the "monfies" who the night before had come to their quarter
inciting them to rebel, and putting to the test their loyalty to
religion and the King, endangering their lives and property. The Marqués
gave more credit to their words than they deserved, and these bad men
remained satisfied that they had unchained the storm without risk to
themselves. In truth the storm was afterwards let loose, fierce and
terrible, as few other in history.

In less than a fortnight the Moors of Farax had burned more than 300
churches, destroying their images, profaning the Blessed Sacrament, and
killing more than 4000 Christians, men, women and children, putting them
to such dreadful deaths and refined tortures that they find no parallels
in the annals of the martyrs. And it was a great marvel and glory that
not one of these victims apostatised, but all died with the name of our
Lord and His Holy Mother on their lips; which so exasperated these true
Mahomedans that to avoid these saintly cries, which sounded as
blasphemies to their impious ears, they filled the victims' mouths with
gunpowder and lighted it. The renegade Farax Abenfarax ordered these
cruelties, and the new King Aben-Humeya took such advantage of them,
that in a short time he found himself master of more than 300 villages
in which he proclaimed Mahomedanism; the leader of more than 20,000 men
who acclaimed him King, and having within his reach the port of Almeira,
which, as in other times Gibraltar, could well be the key of all Spain.

Then Philip II really grasped the situation, and to stifle the rebellion
and do away with the rivalry between the Marquéses de Mondejar and de
los Vélez, so dangerous before such formidable enemies, he sent his
brother D. John of Austria to Granada.




                              CHAPTER XIV


D. John of Austria arrived on the 12th of April, 1568, at Hiznaleuz,
where he halted to arrange his solemn entry on the next day into
Granada, which was only five leagues off. He was accompanied by a great
number of gentlemen, who formed his suite, and at the head of them was
Luis Quijada, placed at D. John's side by the King, as adviser and
counsellor. The Duque de Sesa, who also had received the King's orders
to help D. John, in the same way as Luis Quijada, was to follow in a few
days. The same day the Marqués de Mondejar came, with many captains and
kinsmen, to visit D. John; he stayed the night at Hiznaleuz to report
about the state of the war, and went back early in the morning to
Granada, to fill his post in the solemn reception.

The King had written very minute details to the President, D. Pedro
Deza, notifying even how many of the officials of the Courts and Chapter
were to go to meet his brother. But the King could not regulate the
enthusiasm of the neighbours, or the joy of the troops, some of whom had
become slack through the indolence of the Marqués de Mondejar, and
others discontented through the harshness and severity of the Marqués de
los Vélez. So there was universal hope and joy that day in Granada, and
all went to meet the new leader through the fields of the Vega, which
were as fresh and as full of sunshine and flowers as were their hopes.

The first to set out was the Conde de Tendilla, eldest son of Mondejar,
and he reached the village of Alboloto, a league and a half from
Granada; with him were 200 men, 100 of the troop of Tello Gonzalo de
Aguilar, and 100 of his own, whose lieutenant was Gonzalo Chacón,
shortly afterwards the hero of a certain noisy adventure in the capital.
The latter were all finely turned out in Moorish costume, the others
wearing crimson silk and satin in the Spanish fashion, and all well
armed with cuirasses, helmets, shields and lances, as if they wished to
show by their dress that it was a day of rejoicing though a time of war.
In the same manner came D. John and his men; he wore a breastplate,
shoulder-piece, and gorget of burnished steel, garnished with golden
nails, "cuxotes" or wide breeches of cloth of silver and gold, over
mulberry- silk, caught in by strings of pearls; crimson
stockings, high white leather boots with golden spurs, cuffs and ruff of
rich Flemish point, and a high hat of cut velvet with a tuft of
feathers, fastened with a magnificent jewel of emeralds; on his breast
hung the Golden Fleece, and on his left arm he wore a crimson cockade,
the badge of his command, which was afterwards changed for a flowing red
sash. They met at Alboloto and exchanged compliments, and together
returned to Granada, forming a brilliant squadron. First came D. John of
Austria between Luis Quijada and the Conde de Miranda, behind them
followed the gentlemen and the troops. Meanwhile, at the Royal Hospital,
outside the gates, were waiting the President D. Pedro Deza, the
Archbishop, and the Corregidor; the first had brought four judges and
the magistrates; the second four canons and the dignitaries of the
Chapter; and the Corregidor four aldermen and their deputies.

These were those specified by the King in his letter to D. Pedro Deza,
but the entire nobility of the town, the principal citizens and the
whole neighbourhood were also assembled, without anyone being able or
wishing to stop them. The Moors of the Albaicin, discarding their own
dress for that prescribed by the much-discussed decree, came from all
parts, mixing with their neighbours, making false sounds of joy and
gladness, which, according to the subsequent declaration of some, were
mingled with curses under their breath on D. John and the Christians in
Arabic. The crowd stretched from the gate of Elvira to the stream of
Beyro, where the reception was to take place; in the plain of this name
were drawn up all the infantry, which formed a body of 10,000 men, the
Marqués de Mondejar at their head. When D. John came in sight, the
President and the Archbishop pressed forward to the stream, riding
powerful mules with fine trappings, followed by their friends and the
Corregidor on horseback with his following, and behind them all the
gentlemen and citizens. The first to alight was the President, who very
humbly made his compliments to D. John, who promptly threw himself off
his horse, receiving the President, hat in hand, in his arms, where he
held him a while. He did the same to the Archbishop, and then passed
before him, according to their seniority, the judges and the Alcaldes,
the dignitaries of the Chapter, the Corregidor and the notable citizens.
The President, standing on D. John's right hand, presented them all by
name, and to each he said something kind or appropriate, and pleased
them all; as besides his natural good heart, which made D. John
courteous without affectation or study, he possessed a priceless quality
for princes, that of making himself sympathetic and winning affection at
first sight.

This ceremony over, Luis Quijada and the Conde de Miranda passed in
front of D. John, to leave their places at his right and left hand to
the President and Archbishop. In this way they walked to the town, with
an incredible crowd of people who filled all the fields. As the suite
came up to the first rows of the troops formed up in the plains of
Beyro, all the bells of the town began pealing, and the drums to roll;
trumpets and clarions sounded, and the arquebuses were fired without
intermission, making an impressive salute, the thick smoke of which
covered everything as with a transparent cloud, giving to the manly
figure of D. John something warlike and supernatural, which charmed the
gaze and fired the imagination.

But, suddenly, within the city arose the sound of loud cries and
wailing, and D. John saw, leaving by the gate of Elvira, more than 400
women, with dishevelled hair, and torn mourning garments, who filled the
air with groans, and running towards him in a disorderly troop, threw
themselves under his horse's feet, plucking their hair, beating their
breasts, tearing their clothes, covering themselves with dust, and
uttering lamentations and shrill cries. Till at last one of them, an old
woman, lifting herself up, with her grey hair flying and her mourning
garments rent, extended her trembling, withered arms towards D. John,
and in a hoarse, disconsolate voice addressed him in these words.
"Justice, my lord, Justice is that for which these poor widows and
orphans beg, who now must love tears in the place of husbands and
fathers; who did not feel so much pain when they heard the cruel blows
of the arms with which they were being killed by the heretics, as on
hearing that these should be pardoned."

D. John was first taken aback, and then touched, when he learned that
these poor women were the widows and orphans of those Christians who
lately had been killed and martyred by the Moors, and extending his hand
towards them, he performed the miracle of silencing them, and consoled
them, as much as he could, by promising to see justice done. Then the
lamentations ceased in the city, and D. John saw nothing but hangings
and awnings of brocade and cloth of gold, and a crowd of richly adorned
dames and maidens, who threw flowers from the windows as he passed and,
according to the Moorish custom, glass balls filled with scent. D. John
alighted at the door of the "Audiencia," where his lodging was prepared;
_the house of ill fortune_, as the Moors called it, because from it was
to come their ruin.

Two days later, D. John being still covered, as one may say, with the
dust of the journey, the Moors of the Albaicin sent four of their number
on an embassy to him, _the most crafty among them_, says a chronicler.
They wished to sound the new leader and deceive what they presumed to be
the inexperience of his youth, as they had deceived the sordid nature of
the Marqués de Mondejar, and the fervent piety of the Archbishop. They
presented themselves consequently as injured, instead of humbling
themselves as offenders, enumerated the injuries that they had received,
asking for justice and proclaiming their innocence, and with the
greatest effrontery clamoured for the help and protection of D. John for
their lives, honour and property.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Anderson_

  DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA

  _Attributed to Sir Antonio More_

  _In possession of Don Fernan de Fernandez de Velasco_
]

D. John let them talk freely, giving the sustained and courteous
attention which all judges should show to the prisoner who is defending
himself; but, when they had finished, he began to speak gravely and
firmly, his face so impassive that not all the quickness of the Moors
could guess his intentions, answering them in these studied words:

"The King, my Lord, has ordered me to come to this kingdom, for its
quiet and pacification; be certain that all those who have been loyal to
the service of God, Our Lord and his Majesty, as you say you have been,
will be looked on favourably, and honoured, and you will keep your
liberties and freedom. But also I wish you to know, that as well as
using equity and clemency to those who deserve it, those who have not so
behaved will be punished with the utmost rigour. And, as regarding the
injuries which your spokesman says that you have received, give me your
writing so that I may send and have them remedied, and I wish to warn
you that what you say had better be true, as otherwise you will bring
trouble on yourselves."

The Moors left crestfallen on hearing this, understanding that they had
not succeeded in taking the youth by surprise, and already fearing his
resolution and prudence. And they were right to be afraid, as from the
first moment D. John was convinced that the mainspring of the rebellion
was the Albaicin, that from there it was always being stirred up with
help and news, and sustained and animated by well-grounded hopes of
being assisted by Turks and "Berberiscos" from the coast. He, therefore,
resolved at once to guard the coast in a way that should make landing
impossible, and to clear out the Albaicin, that sink of treason and
espionage, at one blow casting forth all the Moors from Granada. So D.
John put these two proposals before his Council of War, and without a
murmur they approved of the first one, agreeing that the Knight
Commander D. Luis de Requesens, Lieutenant-General of D. John at sea,
should assist, with the galleys he had in Italy, to guard and defend the
coasts. As regards the expulsion of the Moors from the Albaicin, their
opinions were divided, and each defended his own with more or less
reason and courage. But D. John, firm in his purpose, which was upheld
by the authority of the President, D. Pedro Deza, sent the advice to the
King, begging him, if he approved, to give instructions about the
villages, and how to settle these dangerous people beyond the radius of
the rebellion.

D. John did not waste time while the King was arranging the business. He
first applied himself with great activity and energy to repress the
excesses of the captains and soldiers as to lodging, taxes and rapine of
all kinds, and to reduce the war to a plan, under one leader, a thing
hitherto impossible, owing to the rivalry and mutual dislike of the
Marquéses de Mondejar and de los Vélez, and the want of discipline and
cupidity of the officers and soldiers, who were more occupied with
pillage and booty than in gaining victories or taking positions. They
did not fight to win, but to rob, and at times, overburdened with their
plunder, they let themselves be killed rather than abandon it; others,
already having enough booty to satisfy their greed, fled with it inland,
deserting their colours.

Luis Quijada unfailingly helped D. John with his sound judgment and his
great experience in the art of war, without sparing him arguments or
grumblings, as in other times he had not spared the Emperor, D. John's
father, and a month after Quijada's arrival at Granada, the 16th of May,
he wrote the following disconsolate letter to the Prince of Évoli, which
gives an idea of the sad state of the campaign.

    "I owe an answer to your lordship's letter of the 7th of this
    month: for three or four days I have had no fever and have
    endeavoured to get up, but I could only do so for a few hours,
    as my weakness is great, and I return to bed tired out; I eat
    and sleep with scant pleasure. I will go as I can and not as I
    should wish, because if ever I felt ill it is now, and I do not
    want to make myself out such a great soldier that I could have
    remedied everything; but I do think that much might have been
    done at the beginning. These damned soldiers, volunteers and
    citizens, live in a way never before known; they have no
    discipline and behave in a way that is not reasonable or right
    for men of war, because they think not of fighting, but of
    robbing God and everyone. God's Will be done, but I tell you
    that such a disaster at such a time has never been known as the
    one that befell the Knight Commander;[9] we placed our hopes in
    him to hold the sea, not less than on the soldiers he was
    bringing us, to produce the good effect that could be brought
    about. This is over, and so entirely over that for hours at a
    time and without any difficulty the arms and ammunition these
    dogs expect, which it is said is a great quantity, can be
    landed: to receive them there are more than enough people, but
    not enough to carry them away; according to report the galley
    slaves will arrive at a signal, and will go to the mountains, to
    which those of the plain have already retired, taking the
    remainder of their property, determined to die, and I have no
    doubt that they will do so if the soldiers were to press them,
    although the formation of the ground will protect them; but,
    sir, it grieves me much that these are not soldiers any more
    than their captains and officers. Then the galleys which came
    from Italy and the soldiers in them were of so little use that
    it was best to order them to return, and until Gian Andrea
    arrives, as D. Álvaro de Bazán is in Sardinia, I do not know if
    it would be wise to order him to join D. Sancho, that they
    should not dare to disembark in such a barefaced way, but they
    will know what is best there. I am afraid we shall pay for the
    delay of Gian Andrea and the haste of the Knight Commander.
    These dogs have been making signals for eight days and have
    assembled 12,000, among whom are 6000 marksmen, the rest with
    weapons, swords, and slings, and in other parts 8000 are
    assembled. I do not believe that they are as well armed as they
    tell us, or that they have as much powder as they make out.
    Through my illness I have not been near a Council or heard
    anything for days. You will know what is happening by what the
    Lord D. John writes; my opinion is that it will be best to press
    them and bring this business to an end. It might be wrong
    according to how long the people tarry that we have sent for and
    whether they are as good as we could wish. The horse soldiers
    are very good, and wherever they go, however few they be, the
    Moors do not wait for them, nor please God will they do so
    unless they alter the order which has been kept here hitherto,
    as with theirs they can hope for no success; for bad as we are,
    they are worse, as we at all events try to be more or less
    worthy men. The Lord D. John does all he can with the assistance
    of those you know of with all possible care and diligence and in
    finding out bribes and swindling and wrongs which the officers
    have done, but it requires great skill, as many arrange that if
    they lose their money, they have still more left as they give it
    to the others: they say it is beyond all words, even after they
    have heard that D. John has named an auditor to look into the
    matter. It was the wisest thing to have sent the Licentiate
    Biguera, for many reasons, but specially to see what belongs to
    His Majesty, which is a great quantity, if it is well looked
    after, but it is much for one man to do. Oh, my lord! What land
    to buy! What is worth ten to-day in ten years will be worth a
    hundred; I should not be sorry to hear you were thinking and
    finding out about it; for much less than what you gave D. Diego
    you could buy a better estate: His Majesty must sell and at a
    good price, and the profit will be great for him who buys. I beg
    Y.L. to forgive such a long letter, but it is after two o'clock,
    and I cannot sleep; if it pleases you that I should tell you
    tittle-tattle I have certainly done so. That Pastrana so much
    pleases the Princess now it is hers I can well believe: may your
    lordship and ladyship enjoy it for many long years. I kiss your
    lordship's hands many times. From Real before the Moors. 16th of
    May, 1569."

Footnote 9:

  He alludes to the dreadful storm that the twenty-four galleys under
  the command of Luis de Requesens encountered for three days on leaving
  the port of Marseilles; some were lost, others dispersed and went,
  disabled, to Sardinia. It was impossible for the Knight Commander to
  fulfil D. John's orders. Gian Antonio Doria was then instructed to
  come from Naples with his galleys and D. Álvaro de Bazán to bring his
  from Sardinia; but it was too late, and meanwhile the Moors could
  receive provisions and reinforcements of soldiers, Turks and Berbers.




                               CHAPTER XV


Philip II approved of his brother's proposal and authorised him to expel
all Moors over ten and under sixty from Granada.

They were to be assigned places of habitation in the villages of
Andalucia and Castille, which the King indicated, and handed over lists
to the justices there, that they might know about them.

The King also desired, to avoid scandal and to perform the matter more
gently, that the exile should not be inflicted as a punishment, but that
they were to be given to understand that they were taken away from
danger for their own good and peace, and that, quiet being restored,
they would be taken care of, and that the loyal and innocent would be
rewarded. Few were so in their acts and none were so in their feelings.

As D. Philip said, it was a dangerous piece of work for two different
reasons. It was to be feared that the Moors, seeing themselves found
out, would try some last and supreme stroke; and it was equally probable
that the populace of Granada, on seeing them captured and without arms,
would rise against them and commit some barbarous injury to their
persons and property. D. John foresaw all; with great prudence and
secrecy he sent to warn first of all, the armed men in the towns and
villages of the plain, and on the 23rd of June, the Eve of St. John's
Day, he suddenly issued a proclamation, ordering that in two hours' time
all the Moors who dwelt in the town of Granada, or its castle, and in
the Albaicin, citizens as well as strangers, should repair to their
respective parish churches.

The terror of the Moors was great, and fear and surprise stopped all
idea of resistance; they knew themselves to be criminals worthy of the
extreme penalty, and they were afraid that they were going to be
imprisoned in order that they might be beheaded.

With a great tumult of groans and tears they all ran to the square of
Bib-el-Bonut, to the residence of the Jesuits, and, giving mournful
cries, called for Father Juan de Albotodo, a Moor by origin, who was so
often their protector, helper, and also their dupe. The Father appeared
at a window, without cap or cloak, as he was in the house, and heard the
cries of these shameless ones, who already did not dare to demand
justice, but only craved for mercy from the King, and charity and help
to save their lives from the Father. Albotodo was truly a saint, a man
of about forty, worn in body and face, very sunburnt and with such black
eyes and hair that they proclaimed his Arab origin at once.

Albotodo descended to the square, and these wretched people did and said
such things that they touched the Jesuit's very tender heart, and he ran
off to the Audiencia without stopping to get hat or cloak, hoping to
soften President Deza's heart, or, if necessary, D. John of Austria's.
All the people followed him with groans to the entrance of the Albaicin,
but no one dared to descend the hill, as the danger and their bad
consciences had made cowards of them, as always happens to criminals.

Breathless the Jesuit arrived at the Audiencia, and the President
received him as if he saw an angel coming down from heaven. Nothing
could have been more opportune than his intervention, because no one
could quiet the Moors as he could, and convince them that their lives
were not in danger. In such good faith did D. Pedro Deza act, that he
spontaneously offered to give a paper, signed with his name, to the
Jesuit, assuring their lives to the Moors. The Father accepted his word:
and wrote the document himself, which D. Pedro Deza signed, and the
Jesuit, satisfied with this, ran back to the Albaicin, waving the
parchment above his head, as if to quicken the hopes of the unhappy men
he detested as criminals, but whom he cordially pitied as brothers and
doomed men.

Father Albotodo read the parchment from the window: they believing it as
he was a priest, says a chronicler, decided to go to their parish
churches, depressed, gloomy and suspicious, because as soon as their
hopes for their lives were confirmed, their anger and spite were
rekindled, which only death could extinguish.

D. John ordered the parish churches to be guarded with several companies
of infantry, and, having managed to establish order as regarded the
Moors, he anticipated any trouble on the part of the Christians by
issuing a proclamation, in the name of the King, to the effect that the
confined Moors were under the royal protection and care, and had been
promised that no harm should befall them, and that they were being taken
from Granada out of danger from the soldiers.

Everyone in Granada, however, awoke the next morning uneasy and full of
anxiety, because the Moors had to be moved from the parish churches,
where they had spent the night, to the Royal Hospital beyond the gates,
and there given over to the charge of the clerks and royal enumerators
in order that the former should make a list of them, and that the others
should undertake to assign them residences in those villages in Castille
and Andalucia settled beforehand. Rebellion and mutiny were feared on
both sides, and such would have been the case had not D. John foreseen
everything. He ordered that all the soldiers should form up at daybreak
in the plain between the gate of Elvira and the Royal Hospital, which
was the most open and dangerous place. He commanded the first of the
companies himself, and the other three were led by the Duque de Sesa,
Luis Quijada, and the Licentiate Briviesca de Muñatones.

D. John took up his position at the door of the hospital, which was the
most critical post. His standard of Captain-General, which was of
crimson damask, much adorned with gold and having a figure of Christ on
one side and of His Blessed Mother on the other, was carried in front of
him to give him more authority. Pity towards these unarmed wretches was,
however, stronger in the inhabitants of Granada than hatred and the
desire for vengeance, and all the Moors were able to descend from the
Albaicin, cross the town, and enter the hospital without being molested
by anyone.

"It was a miserable sight," says Luis de Marmol, an eye-witness,
participator in and chronicler of all these events "to see so many men
of all ages, hanging their heads, their hands crossed, and their faces
bathed with tears, looking sad and sorrowful, having left their
comfortable houses, their families, their country, their habits, their
properties and everything they had, and not even certain what would be
done with their heads."

Twice, however, they were on the verge of a catastrophe, as it occurred
to a certain captain of infantry from Seville, called Alonso de
Arellano, from a stupid wish to be remarkable, to put a crucifix covered
with a black veil on the top of a lance, and to carry it as a trophy in
front of his company, which was guarding the Moors of two parishes.
Seeing this token of mourning, some Moorish women in the street of
Elvira thought that D. John had broken his word, and that their husbands
were being taken to be beheaded; they began to weep and cry out in their
Arabic dialect (aljamia), tearing their hair, "Oh, unlucky ones! they
are taking you like lambs to be slaughtered. How much better for you to
have died in the houses where you were born!" This inflamed the feelings
of all, and Christians and Moors would have come to blows, had not Luis
Quijada arrived in time to calm them, assuring the Moors afresh of their
safety, and ordering the crucifix to be taken away.

At the door of the Royal Hospital there was another great commotion. A
"barrachal" or captain of the alguaciles, named Velasco, gave a blow to
a Moorish boy, an imbecile, who threw half a brick that he was carrying
under his arm at the captain's head, wounding an ear; in the confusion
it was thought that the injured man was D. John of Austria, as he wore
blue like the "barrachal"; the halberdiers fell on the Moor and cut him
to pieces, and the same thing would have happened to those that
followed, had not D. John urged his horse into the middle of the throng
and, stopping everything, said in a voice burning with indignation and
with a commanding look, "What is this? Soldiers! Do you not realise that
if misdeeds displease God in the infidels, how much more they do so in
those who profess His laws, because they are the more obliged to keep
faith with all sorts of people, especially in matters of confidence.
Have a care, then, about what you are doing, that you do not break the
pledge I have given them, because once broken it would be difficult to
renew it, and if God tarries in their punishment it is not for me to
forestall His justice."

Having spoken thus, he ordered D. Francisco de Solis and Luis del
Marmol, who saw and relate all this, to have the gates guarded and to
let no one enter, that the report should not spread, and he told the
"barrachal" to go and get his wound dressed and to say that no one had
hurt him, but that his own horse had kicked him.

Once out of Granada, that dangerous focus of the rebellion, D. John
determined, with his native energy, to finish the barbarous war, the
continual drain of blood, honour and money, at all costs and as quickly
as possible; but far from dying out it only went on growing, owing to
the quarrels and plunderings of the Christians, to such a point that the
Moors no longer fell back and defended themselves in the fastness of the
mountains, but attacked and took places as strong as those on the River
Almangora or the castle of Serón, where they killed 150 Christians and
took as many captive, including the Alcaide Diego de Mirones.

These victories puffed up the kinglet Aben-Humeya, and his pride
increased quicker than his power, so that he even dared to write as a
king to D. John asking that his father D. Antonio de Valor should be set
at liberty, who for a common offence had been shut up in the Chancellery
of Granada before the rebellion. He sent the letter by a Christian boy,
a captive in Serón, and gave him a safe conduct which said, "In the name
of God, the merciful and pitiful. From his high state, exalted and
renewed by the grace of God, the King Muley Mahomet Aben-Humeya, by him
may God comfort those afflicted, and sorrowful through the people of the
West. Let all know that this boy is a Christian and goes to the city of
Granada on my business, concerning the welfare of Moors and Christians,
in the way it is usual for kings to treat with each other. All who see
and meet him are to allow him to go safely on his way and to give him
all aid in carrying this out; those who do otherwise and stop or take
him will be condemned to lose their heads." Underneath was, "Written by
order of the King Aben Chapela." On the left hand, underneath, in big
letters, apparently written by his own hand, was, "This is true," in
imitation of the African Moorish Kings, who, for greater grandeur, were
accustomed to sign in this way.

D. John did not consent to receive either the messenger or the letter of
the rebel heretic; the one, however, was read and the other examined by
the Council, who decided to send no reply; but the father of
Aben-Humeya, D. Antonio de Valor, wrote that he was being well treated
in prison; that he had not been tortured as had been falsely put about,
and that he, as a father, deplored his son's rebellion and counselled
submission and repentance.

Shortly afterwards Aben-Humeya wrote again to both D. John and his
father, this time sending the letters by Xoaybi, Alcaide of Guejar. This
traitor read and kept them, in order to accuse and take him, as he in
fact did.




                              CHAPTER XVI


At length D. John set out on his campaign with all his native energy,
according to his wishes so long kept in check by his continual struggle
with his advisers, all quarrelling, as D. Diego Hurtado de Mendoza so
graphically paints in his laconic and celebrated letter to the Prince de
Évoli. "Very illustrious sir—Truly nothing happens in Granada; the Lord
D. Luis listens; the Duque (Sesa) fusses; the Marqués (Mondejar)
discourses; Luis Quijada grumbles; Munatones submits; my nephew is there
and is not missed here."

D. John sent one company of the army towards the Alpujarras, with the
Duque de Sesa at their head, and himself attacked with the other, first,
Guejar, a formidable place in which the Moors had one of their centres
of operations, then reinforced with Berberiscos and Turks. By the clever
manœuvre arranged by D. John they fell upon it unawares, and took the
place and the castle with fewer losses and less difficulty than was
feared.

The first to fly was the Alcaide Xoaybi, and he went proclaiming
everywhere, to spite Aben-Humeya, that the latter was in treaty with the
Christians to end the war and to give up the Moors, and in proof of this
he showed a wrongly interpreted letter, kept by him at Guejar. They all
believed the evil deeds of Aben-Humeya, which were many, and most of all
a certain Diego Alguacil, a native of Albacete de Ujijar, who owed him a
bitter grudge, because Aben-Humeya had, by evil intrigue, decoyed away a
widowed cousin who was the mistress of Diego Alguacil. The kinglet took
her by force, but she always kept up a correspondence with her cousin,
to whom she told all Aben-Humeya's doings and plans.

Diego Alguacil made use of these advantages, and with a nephew named
Diego de Rojas, and the renegade Diego Lopéz Aben Aboo, a dyer of the
Albaicin, and the Turkish captains Huscein and Carafax, who had come
from Algeria, contrived a plot, which would have been iniquitous had it
not been against such a scoundrel as Aben-Humeya. They forged letters
from him to Aben Aboo, ordering him to kill all the Turks treacherously,
and then they went to Laujar de Andarax, where Aben-Humeya was,
intending to take him and kill him. He, however, had had warning of what
was happening, and decided to fly to Valor at daybreak on the 3rd of
October, but he was kept that night by a festival, and tired by
merry-making, put off the journey until the next day, though the horses
were already saddled. This was his ruin, as with the dawn Diego
Alguacil, Aben Aboo and the others arrived and assaulted the house,
taking him unawares. Aben-Humeya went to the door half dressed, with a
crossbow in his hand, followed by the Moorish widow; but, as this bad
woman saw at a glance what was happening, she clung to him, as if
frightened, but in reality to stop him using his arms or the crossbow,
and to make it easy for the others to capture him. This Aben Aboo and
Diego Alguacil did, tying his hands with an "almaijar" (turban of gauze)
and his legs very tightly with a hempen cord.

They were then joined by the Turkish captains, and in the presence of
the Moorish woman began to hold his trial and to judge him. They
produced the forged letters, which he, innocent and surprised,
repudiated with energy, but they felled him to the ground with a blow,
as one already sentenced and executed, and began in his presence to sack
the house, and divide among themselves his women, money, clothes and
goods, ending by designating Aben Aboo as the poor wretch's successor,
who saw in his lifetime his most mortal enemies dividing his whole
property. From the corner in which he lay bound, Aben-Humeya watched
them and followed them with bitter speeches, which revealed the depth of
his fury and the blackness of his heart. That he never intended to be a
Moor except to avenge himself on one or the other. That he had hanged
his enemies, friends and relations; cut off their heads, taken their
women, stolen their property, and as he had fulfilled his desires and
vengeance, now they were taking theirs, but not for all this could they
take away his heartfelt satisfaction. When he heard that Aben Aboo was
designated to succeed him, he said that he died content, because Aben
Aboo would soon find himself in the same situation as he was in at the
moment.

At daybreak Diego Alguacil and Diego de Rojas took him to another room
and there strangled him with a cord, each pulling an end. In the morning
they took him out and buried him in a dunghill, as something despicable.

Meanwhile D. John of Austria was driving the Moors from place to place,
and from rock to rock, towards the Alpujarras, where the other wing of
the army was to cut them off. And such were his ardour, forethought, and
wish to participate as much in the responsibilities of a leader as in
the fatigues and dangers of a soldier, that the then veteran D. Diego
Hurtado de Mendoza says of this, "And those of us who were in the
engagements of the Emperor seemed to see in the son an image of the
courage and forethought of the father, and his desire to be everywhere,
especially with the enemy." Luis Quijada never left him for a moment,
restraining at each step D. John's imprudent rashness in what concerned
his own person, as he exposed his life with dangerous frequency.
However, on this path of triumph, D. John met with desperate resistance
from the town of Galera, where even the women fought with the vigour of
valiant men. It was a very strong place, situated on a long ridge like a
ship, whence its name, and on the summit it had an old castle surrounded
by high mounds of rock, which supplied the lack of the fallen walls. In
the town were more than 3000 Moorish fighting men, with a good handful
of Turks and Berberiscos; so safe did they think the place that they had
stored there wheat and barley to last more than a year, and great
treasure of gold, silver, silks, pearls and other costly things.

D. John made a careful survey of the place from one of the high hills
which dominated it, with Luis Quijada, the Knight Commander of Castille,
and other renowned captains, and then ordered the batteries and trenches
to be prepared for the assault. D. John personally inspected this work
as Captain, General, and soldier, and, because it was necessary to go
for the esparto grass of which the gabions were made to a distant hill,
he went on foot in front of the soldiers to encourage them to work, and
carried his load on his back like the rest, even to placing it in the
trench. They began, as soon as it was light, to fire at the tower of the
church with two big cannon, and in a few shots they opened a high,
though small breach, through which to make the assault, and D. Pedro de
Padilla, the Marqués de la Favara, and D. Alonso de Luzón entered with
others of the courageous gentlemen who followed D. John with his people
from simple love of him.

The artillery went on firing at some houses, seemingly of earth, which
were beside the church; but when they tried a second assault, so great
was the fury with which the Moors repulsed them, and so strong was the
resistance these miserable hovels offered, that the Christians had to
retire with great damage, leaving several gallant gentlemen who had
clamoured to advance penned in. One of them was D. Juan de Pacheco, a
knight of Santiago, who was dismembered limb by limb, on account of the
rage which the red cross on his breast inspired in the Moors. He had
only arrived at the camp two hours before, from his home, Talavera de la
Reina, and without more than just kissing D. John's hand entered the
fray where he met with his death.

D. John, nothing daunted by this defeat, ordered new mines to be laid
and fresh batteries placed, and settled another assault for the 20th of
January, which, from the mines exploding prematurely, ended in a second
disaster. Both sides fought with great valour, and ensign D. Pedro
Zapata succeeded in planting his flag on the enemy's wall with such
boldness that, if the entrance had permitted others to help him, the
town would have been gained that day; but the narrowness of the place
prevented all help, and the Moors fell on him and threw him, badly
wounded, down from the battery, still holding his flag, which he never
let go, nor could anyone tear it from him, pull as they might. That day
died more than 300 soldiers, among them many captains and men of worth,
and more than 500 were wounded.

D. John's sorrow changed to ill-concealed rage, and he swore that day to
level Galera to the ground and to sow it with salt, and to put all its
dwellers to the sword; which he soon afterwards accomplished, as at the
third assault, with new mines laid to the foundations of the castle, and
enormous breaches made by heavy artillery brought from Guescar, almost
the whole village blew up with a dreadful noise and earthquake, which
made the hill tremble, and the Christians dashed forward and gained the
town inch by inch, until they penned up more than 1000 Moors in a little
square, where they slew them without mercy or pity. The streets ran with
blood and it made the roads slippery, covering the bushes and brambles
as if with crimson flowers. They took great booty of things of much
value, and D. John ordered that the great quantity of wheat and barley
which the Moors had stored there should be seized; he also ordered D.
Luis del Mármol, who relates all these events, to raze the town and sow
it with salt, as he had sworn.

D. John of Austria left Galera and went straight to lay siege to the
town and castle of Serón, where awaited him the first real sorrow which
embittered his life. He encamped his troops at Canilles, and from there
he wished to go personally to reconnoitre the place, taking with him the
Knight Commander of Castille and Luis Quijada, with 2000 picked
arquebusiers and 200 horses.

The Moors of Serón saw them coming, and hurriedly began to make signals
from the castle, asking for help. Many went to take shots at the
Christians from the <DW72> and then fled, pursued by the Christians, all
of whom entered the place, which seemed deserted; the women could be
seen running to take refuge in the castle, and from there were making
signals. The soldiers gave themselves up in a shameless manner to
sacking the houses, and better to secure the plunder many shut
themselves up in them. Suddenly there appeared more than 1000 Moors from
Tijola, Purchena, and other villages on the river, in response to the
signals, and the panic of the Christians was then boundless.

They fled in a disorderly way, and unwilling to leave the booty they had
already in their hands, and encumbered with the loads, they stumbled,
fell one on the top of the other, affording a good mark for stones,
arrows, and bullets. D. John, from the hill where he was, saw all this
confusion, and angry at the danger to his soldiers and at their want of
discipline, fearlessly plunged his horse into the midst of them, crying
with heroic force:

"What is this? Spaniards! Whom are you flying from? Where is the honour
of Spain? Have you not your captain D. John of Austria in front of you?
What do you fear? Retire in order like men of war with your faces to the
enemy, and you will soon see these barbarians terrified at your arms."
But Luis Quijada also saw the danger D. John ran within reach of shot,
and he went with all speed to make him retire. At the same moment a ball
from an arquebus struck the Prince's helmet, and, had it not been so
solid, would have killed him. Like a lion whose cubs are being hurt,
Luis Quijada turned and urged his horse on as if he would annihilate the
marksman. He then received a shot in the shoulder, and they saw him
first stagger and then fall heavily from his horse, among the cries of
grief and shrieks of rage of those who were near. D. John covered him
with his person, and with wonderful presence of mind, ordered him to be
taken to Canilles with an escort by Tello de Aguilar and the horses from
Jerez la Fontera.




                              CHAPTER XVII


Luis Quijada arrived at Canilles very much exhausted on a stretcher made
of poles, carried by four soldiers who were continually changed; they
took him to his inn, poor and bare, it being war-time and in an enemy's
country, and there D. John's doctors hastened to dress the wound. He was
consumed with thirst and continually asked for water, and, above all,
was anxious about D. John, whom he had left in such a dangerous
situation. At last Juan de Soto arrived, D. John's new secretary, good
Juan de Quiroga having died months before in Granada. He said that D.
John had been able to effect a retreat with great loss, and that he had
received such a blow from a stone on his shield that the pebble remained
fixed in the metal: a wonderful performance, but by no means unique,
considering the strength of those terrible Moorish slingers, who could
do as much harm with a stone as with an arquebus.

D. John returned to Canilles after dark, his left arm somewhat hurt by
the terrible rebound of the shield on receiving the blow; he went direct
to Luis Quijada's room and shut himself up with the doctors. These all
declared the veteran's wound to be mortal; but they did not think that
death was imminent, and without hope of saving him, they nevertheless
believed that they could ward it off for at least a few days. D. John
was profoundly grieved, and thought first of all of Doña Magdalena. This
lady was in Madrid, in order to have the quickest and most reliable news
about the war, and that same night D. John sent a messenger there with a
true and detailed account of what had happened. Knowing the great heart
and courage of the lady, he did not doubt for a moment that on hearing
the news she would at once fly to her husband's side, so he also sent an
itinerary, written by his own hand, marking the safest route by which to
make this undoubtedly brave journey considering the roughness of the
road, the coolness of the season, and even the age of the lady, who was
already fifty, and, above all, the continual risk of being surprised and
attacked by the Moorish highwaymen, scattered all over that part of the
kingdom of Granada, which was then the seat of war.

To prevent great dangers, D. John wrote to all the places where there
were garrisons, which most places had, ordering them to give Doña
Magdalena a strong and safe escort on her way, and he also ordered that
daily two messengers might leave, one at daybreak and one in the
evening, so that she should have frequent reports, whether she was in
Madrid or on the journey, at the close of each day. D. John wrote these
dispatches daily with his own hand after having consulted the doctors
and heard their opinion. The first news D. John sent to Doña Magdalena
by his favourite and confidential valet Jorge de Lima. He had not judged
the intrepid lady wrongly; as no sooner did she hear the terrible news
than she at once arranged her journey, without hesitation or foolish
hurry, but with the calmness and prudent activity which carry superior
souls through difficult situations. She was accompanied by her brother
the Marqués de la Mota, D. Rodrigo de Ulloa, several relations and
friends, and a good many armed and trusty servants. Doña Magdalena
performed this journey as far as Granada in a litter, and from there to
Canilles she rode strong mules lent her by the Archbishop; so long were
the stages and so short the rests, that in five days she had traversed
the sixty leagues which separated her from her lord and husband Luis
Quijada. Meanwhile he felt that he was _dying little by little_, as he
had himself said of the Emperor on the eve of his death. D. John had
suspended operations, and looked after and helped Luis Quijada by
himself as long as possible. These filial cares touched the old soldier,
and he gave him counsels and warnings, and warmly commended good Doña
Magdalena to him, although he did not really believe that he was
actually dying.

But when he heard from D. John himself that Doña Magdalena was already
on the way, and knew of all the loving precautions he had taken to
protect her journey, the veteran's eyes filled with tears, and putting
his only available hand on D. John's head, he pressed it with a manly
and supreme effort. The advent of death laid bare the tenderness of his
heart and smoothed his rugged nature. On the 20th of February, 1570, he
was very much exhausted, and for the first time realised that his end
was near. He at once asked for the sacraments, and D. John brought a
Franciscan friar, one of those who followed the army, and was at the
convent of Canilles. He was the then celebrated Fr. Christóbal de
Molina, the hero of Tablate, whose dreadful gorge he was the first to
cross, on a fragile plank, his frock turned up, a sword in one hand and
a crucifix in the other. Owing to the great terror inspired in the
Moors, and the heroic emulation of the Christians, to the daring of the
friar was due the defeat of the former and the victory of the latter,
and the relief of Orgiva, sorely pressed by Aben-Humeya. Fr. Christóbal
was small and ill-looking, and at his first visit Luis Quijada did not
like him. When D. John, who revered him much, asked the reason, Quijada
answered candidly, "He distracts me and makes me worry, thinking how
such a wretched little man could do so brave a deed."

Quijada, however, confessed to him with great contrition for his sins,
and the same day they brought the Viaticum from St. Mary's and he
received extreme unction, waited on by D. John, who most lovingly
uncovered his hands and feet to be anointed with the holy oils. The next
day, before the auditor of the army, Juan Bravo, he made a long codicil
whose clauses all breathe the same simple piety, at times rude, of the
great warriors of former times, in which, no doubt, lay the secret of
their courage. A celebrated, but by no means devout author, says,
"Heaven smiles on the soldier who can dash into the fray uttering the
holy war cry 'I believe.'"

Luis Quijada left the poor heirs of all his considerable wealth that was
not entailed, and the usufruct of it to Doña Magdalena. He founded
granaries and "monts de piété" in his four towns of Villagarcia,
Villanueva de los Caballeros, Santofimia and Villamayor, founded
schools, endowed hospitals with a special income that the dying should
want for nothing, and added clauses referring to Doña Magdalena in this
tender way: "And if Doña Magdalena thinks it best to join our estates
and found some convent of friars or nuns, provided that they are not the
bare-footed nuns, as it is so cold at Campos that they could not live
there, in this case I give power to Doña Magdalena and my executors,
that joined, she may dispose of and order them, as our wishes have both
been to make a perpetual foundation with her property and mine, and that
we should be buried together and have in death the same good
companionship we had in life."

On the morning of the 23rd Luis Quijada was rather restless from fever,
and a little before noon Jorge de Lima arrived saying that Doña
Magdalena was only one hour behind. D. John went to meet her at the
entrance of the village, and led her himself to Quijada's bedside. In
his delirium Quijada did not know her, but at dawn this disappeared as
the fever lowered, and he had long, loving talks with her. He again
wandered in the afternoon of the 24th, and never again came to himself;
this strong life was ebbing away, little by little, and on the 25th of
February at dusk he quietly expired, as one who passes from the natural
to the eternal sleep. D. John held the hand which grasped the candle of
the dying, Doña Magdalena, on the other side, showed him the crucifix,
and Fr. Christóbal de Molina, kneeling at his feet, commended the
passing soul.

At the moment of death D. John embraced Doña Magdalena, pressing her to
his heart, as if he wished to show that he still remained to love and
care for her; the lady hid her face for a moment in that loyal breast,
and three or four dry, hoarse sobs escaped from her, signs rather of
manly sorrow than of feminine weakness; but she recovered herself at
once, and with great calmness and devotion closed the dead man's eyes,
according to the custom of the times, sealing them with drops of wax
from the candle of the dying; keeping the lids closed with her fingers
and D. John dropping the wax. There were present the Knight Commander D.
Luis de Requesens, the Marqués de la Mota, and the other captains and
gentlemen who filled the poor habitation, the rest grouping themselves
in the street, waiting sorrowfully for the fatal conclusion.

They dressed the corpse in his war armour, and, as a sign of piety, in a
Franciscan's cloak; the hands were crossed over the breast, on which
rested his sword, whose handle was a cross. D. John arranged that the
corpse should be exposed all the morning before the army, on a litter
adorned with trophies and flags, and that in the afternoon they should
carry it and bury it in the convent of the Heronimites at Baza, which
was the place Quijada had himself chosen, until Doña Magdalena could
carry it elsewhere.[10] All the army were on the march with arquebuses
reversed, the lances, pikes and flags trailing, the drums muffled, the
clarions and pipes untuned. The oldest captains carried the litter
alternately, and behind them went D. John, riding a mule, covered to the
ground with mourning, he wearing a cloak with a hood which covered him
to the eyes, his standard of Generalissimo in front, not reversed like
the other flags, but carried high as usual; the Knight Commander
followed and all the leaders of the army, more or less wearing mourning,
according to what black cloth they could procure in that wretched place.

Footnote 10:

  The remains of Luis Quijada were translated two years later with much
  pomp to the church of S. Luis at Villagarcia by Doña Magdalena de
  Ulloa, where she also now rests near the high altar. The figure of his
  tomb no longer exists, but the inscription still does, which says that
  he is buried under the altar and that he died "as he would have
  wished, fighting against the infidel, 25 Feb., 1570" (note abridged by
  Translator).

Doña Magdalena stayed on three days in the camp and then went to the
convent of Abrojo, where she intended retiring for a few weeks. She
travelled in a very comfortable mourning litter which D. John had
provided for her, and he accompanied her for two leagues beyond
Canilles, riding by the side of her litter. There they separated: she
sad as one having left behind all she loved; he sad too—as sad as one
can be at twenty-three.




                             CHAPTER XVIII


During these days of encampment at Canilles D. John reformed his army,
and falling again on Serón with great force and good fortune, the Moors
had no choice but to fly, first setting fire to the village and castle.
Then he entered Tijola, Purchena, Cantoria, and Tahali, and went from
victory to victory all along the River Almanzora, and so great was the
dread of the Moors that on only hearing of his coming they fled
incontinently, abandoning without resistance places and fortresses;
which was due not only to D. John's great reputation for valour and
energy, but also because this youth of twenty-three was already one of
those valiant and honoured leaders who only make war to gain peace, and
while on one side he terrified the enemy with the renown of his
victories, on the other he secretly held out his hand to arrive at a
just judgment, which would spare bloodshed, although it might detract
some rays of fame from his glory.

For some time D. John had contemplated making a truce with the Moors,
and with the greatest secrecy he had put this matter into the hands of
the captain Francisco de Molina, a friend from childhood of the Moorish
leader in that land, Hernando el Habaqui. With much secrecy, then, the
two friends had an interview, and the proposals did not displease the
Habaqui; he was a very discreet man and, unlike most of his race, loyal
and frank.

They discussed the conditions, and at last the Habaqui agreed, and
promised to do all that he could to make the kinglet Aben Aboo agree
also. D. John had not sufficient confidence in these treaties to make
him suspend operations; on the contrary, the war went on, cruel and
sanguinary, at Terque, the River Almanzora, and the Padules de Andarax.
But on arriving at Santa Fé, on the 17th of April, the negotiations were
so far advanced that he decided to issue a proclamation, whose principal
articles were as follows: "It is promised to all Moors who have been in
rebellion against His Majesty, men as well as women, of whatever rank
and condition they may be, if within twenty days, counting from the date
of this proclamation, they will come and give themselves up, and deliver
their persons into the hands of his Majesty and of the Lord D. John of
Austria in his name, he will grant them their lives and will order that
they shall be heard, and justice done to those who afterwards desire to
prove the violence and oppression they have suffered to force them to
rebel; and he will act towards the rest with his usual clemency, to
these, as to those, who besides giving themselves up, render some signal
service, such as beheading or taking prisoner Turks or Berberiscos of
those who joined the Moors or other natives of the kingdom who have been
captains or leaders of the rebellion and who still persist, not caring
to enjoy the grace and mercy that his Majesty offers them.

"Furthermore; to all those who are above fifteen and under fifty who
come within the said time to give themselves up and who give into the
keeping of his Majesty's ministers, each one a gun or a crossbow with
ammunition."

Thousands of this proclamation were scattered throughout the kingdom of
Granada, and from the first minute Moors began to present themselves in
the camps of D. John and the Duque de Sesa, craving for pardon. All had
a cross of red cloth or linen sewn on the left sleeve, so that they
might be known from afar and not hurt, as was ordered in one of the
articles of the proclamation. Meanwhile the Habaqui fulfilled his
promise to obtain leave from Aben Aboo to submit, and he begged D. John
to name commissioners to arrange the form in which the kinglet and he
should make their submissions, as well as the other leaders for whom
they were acting. On Friday, the 19th of May, the gentlemen named by D.
John conferred in Fondon de Andarax with the Habaqui and his men, and it
was settled that the Habaqui, in the name of all, should throw himself
at the feet of D. John of Austria, begging mercy for his sins, and
delivering up flag and arms.

They then set out the same day for the Padules, where D. John was
encamped; the Habaqui and the gentlemen commissioners, with 300 Moorish
marksmen whom they brought as escort. The Habaqui rode an Algerian
horse, with Arab trappings; he wore a white turban and a crimson caftan,
his only arms a sword set with many precious stones; he was a spare man
with a good figure, with a thin beard which was beginning to turn white.
At his side an ensign of the escort bore the banner of Aben Aboo, of
turquoise damask, with a half-moon on the point of the staff, and some
words in Arabic which meant, "I could not desire more or be contented
with less." The marksmen followed five in a row. Four companies of
Spanish infantry, who were waiting at the limits of the camp, surrounded
them, and on passing the lines the Habaqui gave up the banner of Aben
Aboo to the secretary Juan de Soto, who was riding at his side. In this
way they passed through the ranks of the infantry and horse soldiers,
who played their bands and fired a fine salute of arquebuses, which
lasted a quarter of an hour.

D. John of Austria waited in his tent, attended by all the captains and
gentlemen of the army; he was in full armour, one page held his helmet,
and another, on his left hand, the standard of the Generalissimo. The
Habaqui alighted in front of the tent and went straight to throw himself
at the feet of D. John, exclaiming, "Mercy, my lord, may your Highness
grant us mercy in the King's name, and pardon for our sins, which we
know have been great," and taking off the sword with which he was
girded, he placed it in D. John's hand, saying, "These arms and flag I
give up to His Majesty in the name of Aben Aboo and of all the rebels
for whom I am empowered to act." And at that moment Juan de Soto threw
down the kinglet's banner at D. John's feet.

D. John listened to him and looked at him with such quiet and peaceful
dignity that he well represented the justice and mercy of which he was
the guardian. He ordered the Habaqui to rise, and giving him back his
sword, told him to keep it, and with it to serve His Majesty. D. John
afterwards loaded him with favours, and ordered his gentlemen to do the
same: that day the Habaqui dined in the tent of D. Francisco de Córdoba,
and the following one in that of the Bishop of Guadix, who was in the
camp.

The next day the festival of Corpus Christi was celebrated in the camp,
with all the pomp and solemnity possible in such an out-of-the-way
place, and with the joy natural to those who believed that the
disastrous war was ended. By cartloads and armfuls the soldiers brought
flowers and herbs, so plentiful in May in that fertile country, to adorn
the altar and the road by which the Holy Sacrament was to go. They hung
with fair and fragrant garlands the tent in which Mass was said, and
which stood, raised, in a sort of square in the centre of the camp, and
around it they planted green groves and arches of foliage, with flags
and streamers. The soldiers had made it a point of honour to adorn their
tents, and there was not one which was not beautified with wreaths,
flags, and little altars of different kinds; many of them were
ornamented with rich cloths and other precious things, the booty of war.
The Host was carried by the Bishop of Guadix, under a brocaded canopy,
held up by D. John of Austria, the Knight Commander of Castille D.
Francisco de Córdoba, and the Licentiate Simon de Salazar, Alcaide of
the King's Court and household; in front, two by two, went all the
friars and clergy of the camp, who were numerous, and the knights,
captains, and gentlemen, with torches and tapers of wax, lighted, in
their hands. From one end of the camp to the other the infantry and
horsemen had formed up with their flags flying, and as the Blessed
Sacrament passed, they knelt down, lowering their arms, standards and
banners, kissing the dust; the bands played martial hymns, and through
the air thundered salvos of arquebuses, which did not cease for at least
a quarter of an hour. "A friar of St. Francis preached that day," says
Luis del Mármol, "who with many tears praised Our Lord for His great
favour and mercy in having made the place Christian by bringing the
Moors to a knowledge of their sins; and besides this he said many things
which consoled the people."

But, unluckily, these rejoicings and consolations were premature, as
very soon afterwards the traitor Aben Aboo went back on his word, and
fortified himself in the Alpujarras, and began to prevent, with
atrocities and punishments, the pacification of the Moors, who had
thronged to submit, and he asked for fresh help from the Kings of
Algiers and Tunis. Loyal and honourable for his part, Hernando el
Habaqui was furious; he went to the Alpujarras swearing to bring Aben
Aboo to reason, or to bring him into the presence of D. John tied to his
horse's tail. But the crafty Moor knew how to lay a snare into which the
loyal Habaqui incautiously fell, and was treacherously killed, and his
corpse hidden for more than thirty days in a dung-heap, covered up with
a matting of reeds.

Few, however, were the followers who remained to Aben Aboo after this
crime was discovered; and pressed without respite, he fled from cave to
cave, always seeing his following diminish, until it consisted of few
more than 200 men, and these tired and worn out. Gonsalo el Xeniz, who
was Alcaide, agreed with a silversmith of Granada, called Francisco
Barrado, to capture Aben Aboo or to kill him, as he was the cause of so
many lives being lost. So, one night, el Xeniz arranged to meet Aben
Aboo in the caves of Berchul, on the pretext that it was necessary to
talk over matters which concerned everyone. Aben Aboo came alone, as he
confided to nobody where he slept. El Xeniz said to him, "Abdala Aben
Aboo: what I wish to say to you is that you should look at these caves,
which are full of unhappy people, sick folk and widows and orphans, and
things have come to such a pass, that if all do not give themselves up
to the King's mercy, they will be killed and destroyed: and by doing the
contrary they will be relieved of their great misery."

When Aben Aboo heard this, he gave a cry as if his soul were being torn
out, and looking furious, he said, "What? Xeniz! You have brought me
here for this? You harbour such treason in your breast! Do not say any
more, or let me see you again."

And saying this he left the cave, but a Moor called Cubeyas seized his
arms behind, and a nephew of el Xeniz gave him a blow on the head with
the butt of a musket and stupefied him and threw him to the ground; then
el Xeniz gave him a blow with a stone and killed him. They took the
body, wrapped in a matting of reeds, lying across a mule, to Berchul,
where Francisco Barrado and his brother Andres were waiting for them.
There they opened the corpse, took out the intestines and filled the
body with salt to preserve it; they then put it on a sumpter mule, with
boards at the back and front under the clothes, to make it appear
living. On the right rode the silversmith Barrado, el Xeniz on the left,
bearing the musket and scimitar of the dead man, surrounded by el
Xeniz's relations with their arquebuses and muskets, and Luis de Arroyo
and Jeronimo de Oviedo formed the rear-guard with a troop of horse. In
this manner they entered Granada with a great crowd of people, who were
anxious to see the body of the dyer of the Albaicin, who had dared to
call himself king in Spain: the arquebuses fired salvos in the square of
Bibarrambla and again in front of the houses of the Audiencia, which
were answered by the artillery of the Alhambra. The President D. Pedro
Deza came out and el Xeniz gave him the musket and scimitar of Aben
Aboo, saying that he did so like the faithful shepherd, who being unable
to bring to his master the animal alive, brought the skin. Then they cut
off the head of the corpse, and abandoned the body to the boys, who
dragged it about and then burned it; the head was nailed in an iron cage
on the gate "del Rastro," facing the road to the Alpujarras, with an
inscription underneath, which said:

                       This is the head
                       of the traitor Aben Aboo.
                       No one shall take it away
                       on pain of death.

Thus ended this celebrated Moorish war, another step by which D. John of
Austria mounted to the summit of his glory.




                                BOOK III

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                               CHAPTER I


From its narrowness and bareness it seemed a prison, and no comparison
could be found for the scarcity of its furniture; its triangular shape
and massive walls, on which could be seen the remains of torn-down
tapestry, luxurious gilt cornices, and carved, vaulted ceiling,
suggested, as in reality was the case, the corner of a sumptuous room
which, for convenience or by caprice, had been cut off by a partition.
In the centre of this partition rose an altar of dark wood, without
other images or adornments than a life-sized crucifix; the pallid limbs
of the Christ stood out with imposing realism against the dark
background; the dying head was bowed, and its agonised gaze fixed
itself, with a gentle expression of mercy and sorrow, on those who knelt
beneath it. In the opposite corner was one of those carved
fifteenth-century cupboards, of so much value now, but of so little
then; it was open, and in its depths were to be seen many and terrible
instruments of penitence and a few books of prayer; leaning against the
wall was a shut-up folding seat, the only one, and the only piece of
furniture to be seen in this curious room; a great silver lamp glowed in
front of the altar, and by its light could be vaguely seen the outline
of a strange figure, which was moving on the ground on the frozen
stones, giving vent to deep groans and dis-jointed words.

Little by little the light began to filter through the narrow, arched
window which pierced one of the walls, and then the solitary personage
could be plainly seen; he was old, with a pronounced aquiline nose, a
white beard fell on his chest, and he was so spare and decrepit, that it
might have been said of him as St. Theresa said of St. Peter Alcantara,
"That he seemed made of the roots of trees." He was wrapped in a big
black cloak, underneath which a kind of white gown showed. He was
prostrate before the altar, on the cold stones, and was writhing like a
feeble worm, at times leaning his bald head on the ground, at others
raising his withered arms towards the crucifix, with a movement of love
and anguish, like a sorrowful child who craves the help of its father;
then could be seen the big gold ring with a great seal which moved up
and down on his finger as if it were threaded on a dried-up vine branch.
It was full daylight before the old man finally abandoned his lowly
position and somewhat arranged the disorder of his dress, which was none
other than the habit of a Dominican monk, whose wide folds seemed only
to heighten his tall figure. With a firm step he went to a little door
in the partition, almost hidden by the altar, and through it went into
the adjoining room. This was a sumptuous octagonal oratory, whose altar
was exactly in front of the one in the miserable room where the old man
prayed, so that the rich silver cibary which enclosed the Blessed
Sacrament on the altar of the front room corresponded with the feet of
the crucifix in the back one. There was only one picture on this
magnificent altar, an artistic marvel: the celebrated Madonna of Fra
Angelico, known as the "Salus Infirmorum." On the Gospel side there was
a rich canopy of cloth of gold, with faldstool and cushions covered with
the same; and in a line in front of the altar there were four other
faldstools covered with brocade, where four prelates were praying; they
wore white rochets over their purple cassocks, and stoles embroidered at
the neck. On the brilliantly lighted altar could be seen everything
arranged that was necessary for celebrating the Holy Sacrifice of the
Mass. As the old man entered the oratory, the four prelates rose at once
and bowed low before him, because this old man, who a few seconds before
was moaning like a feeble child, and writhing on the ground before the
crucifix like a vile worm, was no less a person than Christ's Vicar on
earth; called then in the chronology of Roman Pontiffs Pope Pius V, now
in the calendar of saints, St. Pius V.

The Pope knelt under the canopy and buried his wrinkled forehead in his
thin fingers for a long while; then at a sign from him the four prelates
approached and began to robe themselves in the sacred vestments to
celebrate the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. The Pope was celebrant, with
solemn slowness and deep devotion, although nothing revealed to the
outside world the depth of his internal emotions.

But on reaching the Gospel of St. John an extraordinary thing happened;
he began to read it slowly, pausing, and marking all the words, as one
who understands and appreciates its deep meaning, and suddenly, with his
face strange and transfigured, and in a voice which was not his own, he
said these words: "Fuit <DW25> missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes!"
(There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.) He paused for a
minute, turned his face towards the Virgin, gazing into space, as if
seeing celestial visions, and repeated in a questioning, humble,
submissive, loving tone, like a child asking his mother, "Fuit <DW25>
missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes?" and in his natural voice, firm,
strong, and decided, he repeated, for the third time, "Fuit <DW25> missus
a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes."

From that moment the weight which was burdening the Pontiff seemed
lifted. The Holy League against the Turk, between the Holy See, the
Signory of Venice and the King of Spain, had been formed, thanks to the
efforts, energy, heroic patience and fervent prayers of this feeble old
man. The united forces of the three powers amounted to 200 galleys, 100
ships, 50,000 infantry, 4000 horses, and 500 artillery with ammunition
and apparatus. The expense of this army was calculated at 600,000 crowns
a day, of which Spain paid half, Venice two-sixths, and the Holy See the
other sixth part. The Pope had named Marco Antonio Colonna, Duke of
Paliano and Grand Constable of Naples, to be General of his fleet;
Venice placed at the head of her contingent the veteran Sebastian
Veniero; and the King of Spain appointed as General of all his forces by
land and sea his brother D. John of Austria, who had just ended the war
with the Moors.

The Pope in person promulgated the articles of the Holy League from the
altar of St. Peter's. The Roman citizens filled the immense Basilica,
and Pius, standing in front of the altar, surrounded by the Cardinals
and foreign ambassadors, read the text of the document himself with
profound emotion. Then the Te Deum was intoned and 30,000 voices replied
at once, and 30,000 hearts were moved with faith and hope, because the
horrors the Turks committed at the taking of Nikosia, and the danger
which threatened Famagusta and all the island of Cyprus at the moment,
made the whole of Europe fear that Selim would execute, if he were not
checked, the plan which Mahomet II and Solomon the Magnificent had made,
of overcoming Italy and destroying Christianity there.

There remained, however, to be settled a matter of the utmost
importance, and it was this that overburdened the Holy Pontiff at the
time we saw him praying and groaning in the lonely corner, which he
himself had made, behind his oratory, to conceal from men his converse
with Heaven. It was the appointing of a Generalissimo for the armada of
the Holy League, who was worthy to be the leader of the great
enterprise, and who would be a skilful manipulator of this complicated
and difficult machine, on which all Christendom was gazing and fixing
their hopes. The allies did not agree over this, and, as so often
happens in politics, they put personal and wounded vanity before the
holy and noble end that the Pontiff had in view. He proposed his own
general, Marco Antonio Colonna; the Spaniards wished for their D. John
of Austria, the Venetians, without daring to propose their general,
Sebastian Veniero, rejected Colonna, as having been a failure in the
first League; they also objected to D. John of Austria, on account of
the lack of experience which they imagined he must possess at
twenty-four, and proposed the Duke of Savoy, Emanuele Filiberto, or the
Duke of Anjou, afterwards Henri III of France, who had not revealed as
yet his ineptitude and vices. The arguments about D. John's youth
weighed with the Pontiff, and he inclined to the Duke of Anjou, thinking
that his appointment might possibly gain the help of his brother the
King of France, who hitherto had refused it. However, the time passed in
vacillations and doubts, proposals and refusals, until at last the
allies resolved to leave the appointment absolutely in the hands of the
Pontiff, which did not prevent anyone from using all the means in his
power to influence the august old man in their favour.

However, his holy diplomacy was too far above human cabals for intrigues
to affect his upright policy. The Pope resorted for three consecutive
days to prayer and penitence, as was his humble custom in difficult
circumstances, and on the fourth, on which we saw him saying Mass before
the Madonna of Fra Angelico, he convoked for that morning the presence
of the Cardinals Granvelle and Pacheco and D. Juan de Zuñiga, the
delegates of the King of Spain, and Michele Suriano and Juan Surenzo,
ambassadors from Venice, and told them distinctly, without evasion, and
in contradiction to his previous opinion, that he named the Lord D. John
of Austria Generalissimo of the Holy League.

The Venetians looked disgusted; but the astute Granvelle was before them
with the only possible objection to D. John: "Holy Father! In spite of
his twenty-four years?" To which the Pope answered with great firmness,
"In spite of his twenty-four years."

The Venetians then knew that they were vanquished, but made it a
condition that the Generalissimo should consult, in cases of importance,
with his two colleagues, thenceforward subordinates, Marco Antonio
Colonna and Sebastian Veniero.

The Pope agreed, shrugging his shoulders as if he granted a thing of
scant importance, and the next day signed the commission of D. John
which the Cardinal Granvelle presented to him, repeating, with the
profound feeling of security which Heaven gives to holy souls, "Fuit
<DW25> missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes."




                               CHAPTER II


Pius V wrote at once a brief to D. John of Austria, informing him of his
appointment, and telling him to come quickly to Italy to take command of
the fleet, saying that henceforward he looked on D. John as a son; as a
father he would care for his interest, and _would at once reserve for
him the first kingdom conquered from the Turk_; that D. John was never
to forget for a moment the great undertaking which had fallen to his
charge, and _that he could count on victory, as he_ (the Pope) _promised
it in God's name_.

The Pope sent this brief to D. John by his legate _a latere_ to Philip
II, Cardinal Alexandrino, who also bore, at the same time, important
communications for the Kings of France and Portugal. The Cardinal
Alexandrino Michele Bonelli was a nephew of the Pope, and still only a
boy, but he had so much prudence and sagacity and tact in the management
of affairs, that he enjoyed the full confidence of the Pontiff, who had
named him his Secretary of State. However, the Pope wished to
counterbalance the youth of Alexandrino by the importance and grey hair
of those who accompanied him, and sent in his suite Hipolito
Aldobrandini, afterwards Clement VIII, Alessandro Rierio, Mateo
Contarelli, and Francesco Tarugi, all soon afterwards Cardinals. This
learned and splendid company all disembarked at Barcelona, where they
found awaiting them the Nuncio Giovanni Battista Castagna, afterwards
the Pope Urbain VII, and the General of the Dominicans, Vincenzo
Giustiniani; also, representing the King, the Legate D. Herando de
Borja, brother of the Duque de Gandia, and representing D. John of
Austria, his Master of the Horse, D. Luis de Córdoba.

But it happened that while the embassy of Pius V was disembarking at
Barcelona, by other channels came the dreadful news of the surrender of
Famagusta, the awful death of Marco Antonio Bragadino, and the horrible
treachery committed by Mustafa on these conquered heroes. For
seventy-five days Famagusta withstood the assault of 250 galleys which
blockaded the island, and of 120,000 Turks with whom Mustafa besieged
the walls of the unhappy town, which had to defend it only 4000 Italian
soldiers, 200 Albanians, 800 horse, and between peasants and fishermen
3000 Cypriotes. Till at last, defeated and wanting food, the brave
Governor of the place, Marco Antonio Bragadino, counted the forces left
to him, and found them to be only 1700 soldiers and 1200 Cypriotes,
counting sick and wounded, provision for two days, six barrels of
powder, and 120 cannon balls.

Then he thought of capitulating, and Mustafa favourably received the
first overtures they made, loading the officers who went to propose the
capitulation with presents and praises. The besieged asked that their
officers and men of war might be taken to the isle of Crete with their
arms and baggage: that the Turks should supply galleys for the transport
of the troops: that the inhabitants of Famagusta should be allowed to
keep their property and practise their religion freely.

Mustafa agreed to everything, and even wished the soldiers to take five
cannon and three picked horses, as a testimony to their heroic defence.

The capitulation was signed by both parties, and the soldiers began at
once to embark on the Turkish galleys.

The next day Bragadino set out from Famagusta to deliver up the keys to
Mustafa, who waited in his tent. He rode a magnificent horse, preceded
by trumpeters in gala armour, with surtout of purple and a scarlet
umbrella which a squire held over his head. The principal leaders and
gentlemen followed, to the number of twenty. Mustafa received them in
his tent with much courtesy, he made Bragadino sit down at his side on
the same divan, and talked for a long while of the incidents of the
siege. But, suddenly throwing off the mask and revealing his black
perfidy, he began to reproach the Venetian General with having killed
several Turkish prisoners in time of truce, and with insolent arrogance
and vehemence, asked him, "And what guarantees, Christian, are you
giving me for the safety of the boats which are taking you to Crete?"

Bragadino was indignant at this question, which was an outrage on the
good faith of Venice, and replied that such an insulting suspicion
should have been shown before the capitulation was signed. Mustafa then
rose in a fury, and at a signal, which must have been previously
arranged, his guards threw themselves on Bragadino and his comrades and
loaded them with chains. In front of Mustafa's tent there was a wide
esplanade, and there they were beheaded, one by one, with such violence
that more than once their gore bespattered Bragadino's purple surtout;
three times they made him kneel down at the block to be beheaded, and as
often they took him away again, just for the pleasure of causing him
anguish, contenting themselves at last by breaking his teeth, cutting
off his nose and ears, and pulling out his nails. Meanwhile the Turkish
seamen threw themselves on the Christian officers and soldiers already
embarked, took away their arms, and chained them to the benches, to
convert them into galley slaves. By dint of tortures the cruel Turks
wore out the noble Bragadino in twelve days. Every morning they beat
him, tied to a tree, and with two baskets of earth hanging from his neck
they made him work at the same forts which the illustrious General had
so gallantly defended. When he met Mustafa out walking, the soldiers
obliged him to kneel down and kiss the dust with his mutilated lips.

Mustafa converted the cathedral of Famagusta into a mosque, and to
celebrate the sacrilegious ceremony, he ordered the martyred Bragadino
to be brought to his presence. Mustafa was seated on the high altar, on
the very _ara_, and from there condemned Bragadino to be flayed alive,
crying out in a diabolical rage, "Where is your Christ? See me seated on
His altar! Why does He not punish me? Why does He not set you free?"

Bragadino answered nothing, and with the calm dignity of a martyr began
to say the Miserere. They began flaying him by his feet, fearing that he
would not be able to live through the torture, and they were right; when
his executioners reached his waist, and while the heroic martyr was
repeating the words _cor mundum crea in me Deus_, he gave a dreadful
shudder and died. They filled the skin with hay, and put it on the yard
of a ship, that all the crews might see it.

These terrible tidings spread fear and consternation everywhere, but
specially in Italy and Spain; because the Ottoman monster, with its gory
claws fixed in defeated Cyprus, was lifting its head and surveying
Europe, seeking new conquest to satisfy its rage and cupidity. Italy and
Spain were the most exposed to fresh attacks of the monster, with whom
no power could then grapple successfully single-handed, and this is why
they welcomed the Holy League with such enthusiasm, and the anxiety of
those who meet with a means of dissipating a looming danger; and for
this also, that the arrival of Cardinal Alexandrino was looked upon in
Spain as an embassy from Heaven, who was come to confer, as defender of
the kingdom, the invincible sword of the Archangel on D. John of
Austria, its best loved prince.

The Legate's journey from Barcelona to Madrid was one continued
triumphal march, and his entry into the city one of those events which
mark the history of a people. The pontifical ambassador lodged
provisionally at the convent of Atocha, while his official entry into
Madrid was being prepared.

The next day Prince Ruy Gómez de Silva came to visit the Legate in the
name of the King, accompanied by all the principal personages of the
Court, with much pomp and decked out with many jewels, and two hours
later D. John of Austria arrived on the same errand, with the four
Archdukes Rudolph, Ernest, Albert and Wenceslas, brothers of the Queen
Doña Ana, fourth wife of Philip II. The Legate was very pleased to make
D. John's acquaintance, and talked to him for half an hour, addressing
him as _Highness_, which displeased Philip, and was the reason why he
secretly advised all the Chancelleries not thus to address his brother,
as Philip had not granted him this honour.

The solemn entry of the Legate was fixed for the next day, and for it,
adjoining the hospital of Anton Martin, and in front of the gate of that
name, was erected a big platform which occupied all the width of the
street, with five wide steps by which to mount on to it, covered with
costly carpets. In the midst of the platform an altar was raised, with
the finest tapestry and ornaments that the palace could provide, and at
the back a gorgeous room in which the Legate might rest, as from there
he was to see all the clergy and monks of Madrid and the neighbourhood,
who had come to receive him and to offer their homage, pass before him.

At two o'clock D. John of Austria set out in a coach, and went to the
convent of Atocha to pick up the Legate, and enter by the gate of St.
Martin in his company; he was accompanied by his entire household, in
gala attire, and by several Grandees and gentlemen of the Court, whom
the King sent to add to his importance. D. John was greatly beloved by
the people of Madrid, and the naming him Generalissimo, and the hopes
that all Christendom placed in the brave Prince, had increased their
enthusiasm. His coming was awaited by a great crowd of people, who at
once surrounded his coach and accompanied him to Atocha, applauding him
and shouting for joy. The Legate got into D. John's coach wearing his
Cardinal's cloak, hood and hat, and the enthusiasm of the people grew to
such a pitch, and so loudly did they acclaim D. John, the Legate and the
Pope, that Alexandrino, not accustomed to such a display of feeling, was
first frightened, and then wept for joy, bestowing blessings right and
left, anxious to show his gratitude.

When Alexandrino arrived at the platform, the procession had already
mounted by the street of Atocha, and he seated himself on the velvet
throne, which was placed on the Gospel side, with many Monsignori,
prelates and gentlemen of his household, and a little before him on his
right hand was a Papal Protonotary with the pontifical standard, which
was of white damask, with the tiara and keys on one side and Christ on
the cross on the other. Right and left of the throne and on the steps,
the soldiers of Spain and Germany guarded him like a royal personage.
Then, before the platform, began to file the Confraternities with their
standards, the monks with their banners, and the parishes with their
crosses, and many of the neighbouring villages had brought their
dancers, minstrels, and clarions, and others were accompanied by
Alcaides, Regidors and Alguacils, all with their wands. On passing they
bowed first to the altar and then to the Legate, who, in return, gave
them his blessing.

The King had so nicely calculated the time and the distance, that, as
the procession left by one side of the square, he entered by the other
in a coach, followed by his Spanish and German guard and by the hundred
noble archers. The King went towards the altar and the Legate came to
meet him, taking off his hat and the hood of his cloak; to which D.
Philip replied by bowing, hat in hand.

Then there passed between the two many polite words of welcome, and then
D. Philip and D. John of Austria mounted their horses, and the Legate a
beautiful mule, with cloth of crimson velvet, a present from the city,
and they went together to St. Mary's to sing a Te Deum and announce the
arrival of the Legate.

Twelve trumpeters headed the march with the attendants; two spare horses
covered with crimson velvet with fringes and trimmings of gold, with
saddles and saddle-cloths and bridles of great value; the family,
attendants and retainers, lackeys and pages with their bags of crimson
velvet embroidered with gold. The household of the Legate and then that
of the Alcaides de Corte, many private gentlemen and members of the
Orders, gentlemen purveyors and of the bedchamber, and a great concourse
of nobles and native and foreign gentlemen. Then followed the Masters of
the Horse and Stewards of the King, Queen, Princess, and of D. John of
Austria, and mixing among them, in different lines, gentlemen and
prelates who had come with Cardinal Alexandrino.

Then a short space, in the midst of which rode, dressed in mulberry, a
Protonotary with the pontifical standard, preceded by two lictors, and
followed by two others wearing the livery of the Legate and carrying the
_fasces_ of the Roman Consuls of old, which had been granted to the
Popes, as a sign of great respect, by the Emperor Constantine.

The standard was escorted by two of Alexandrino's mace-bearers and four
of the King's, with their coats of arms and crowned maces, and then
followed the Grandees in such numbers, that seldom have so many been
together at one ceremony.

Then came D. John of Austria, and twenty paces behind, the King, giving
the Legate his right hand; but whether it was accidental or intentional,
it happened that on entering the street of Léon D. John fell back to the
King's left, and the three proceeded in a row, conversing pleasantly,
which was so extraordinary and unlike the rigid etiquette always
observed by D. Philip, that it was interpreted as a public honour the
King was doing to the Generalissimo of the Holy League, and was greeted
and welcomed by the populace with great applause and renewed rejoicing
and enthusiasm.

At the porch of St. Mary's the King took leave of the Legate, without
alighting, doffing his hat with great politeness, and the Legate replied
from his mule, in his turn taking off his hood and hat.

Then in the historic church they sang the Te Deum and the Regina cœli
lætare; Alexandrino gave the blessing from the epistle side, and a
Protonotary announced afterwards to the people, from the centre of the
altar, that _the Very Illustrious Lord Cardinal Alexandrino, nephew of
the very holy Father and Lord Pius V, came to these kingdoms of Spain as
Legate_ a latere _of His Holiness, and conceded 200 years of pardon to
those present_.

This ended the ceremony, and D. John of Austria got into his coach again
with the Legate, and conducted him to the lodging which was prepared in
the house of D. Pedro de Mendoza, where the Presidents of Castille
afterwards lived.




                              CHAPTER III


D. John's departure once settled and fixed, his first thought was to say
good-bye to Doña Magdalena de Ulloa. Neither years, nor the natural
dazzling of triumph and glory, nor the dark clouds which, on the
contrary, brought disillusion and disenchantment, were ever able to
deaden in D. John his tender love for Doña Magdalena; away at the bottom
of his heart, joined to the religious faith which had taken such firm
root in his soul at Villagarcia, the loyal chivalry, strong and manly,
learned from Luis Quijada, and the active and practical charity taught
by Doña Magdalena herself, there was, so to speak, like the foundations
of the castle of his great nature, the tender, respectful, confiding
love he bore for Doña Magdalena, his _aunt_, true remains of the former
Jeromín who had become the D. John who filled the world with his fame,
and there always flourished in him, as in all loyal breasts, the
fragrant flower of gratitude.

D. John made a glory of his love and gratitude towards Doña Magdalena de
Ulloa, and in how many of his papers do these natural and spontaneous
gloryings burst forth, like a spring of crystal water which seeks the
first fissure by which to escape. Soon after the triumph of Lepanto he
wrote to the Marqués de Sarria, "That my aunt really is as delighted as
she seems to be, I am very certain, as we share each other's good
fortunes, for no son owes his mother more than I owe her."

So D. John wrote to Doña Magdalena, telling her of his appointment as
Generalissimo, and at the same time begging her to name a place where he
could go to receive her blessing and take leave of her. He proposed that
she should, as she had done before, leave Villagarcia, where she was,
for the convent of Abrojo or Espina, where, without entering Valladolid,
he would go to meet her. It is certainly a curious circumstance, the
reason for which we do not know, that in none of the many visits D. John
paid Doña Magdalena, did he ever wish to enter Valladolid or stop in
Villagarcia, but they always met at one or other of these convents.

The courier who took D. John's letter brought back Doña Magdalena's
answer, that she would come to Madrid to give him the blessing he craved
and the embrace he desired, and thousands of other blessings and
embraces that she wanted to give him on her own account. D. John,
delighted, ordered the rooms to be prepared that were always kept in his
house for Doña Magdalena, which were comfortable and apart, in one of
the towers which flanked the palace, which was, as we have said, that of
the Conde de Lemus, in the square of Santiago; it was spacious and
magnificent, with two stories and two towers, very like the Casa de
Lujan, which still exists in the Plaza de la Villa.

D. John and Doña Magdalena had not seen each other since the death of
Luis Quijada, and D. John was very much shocked at the great change he
saw in her. Doña Magdalena was no longer the beautiful fine lady of whom
good Luis Quijada had been so proud at the entertainments and
solemnities of the Court. His death had freed her from the obligation of
complying, like a good wife, with his wishes, innocent vanities, and the
calls of high rank; and now, free from all such obligations, she had
given herself entirely to the saintly impulses of her austere virtue.

Two pictures of her still exist, which fully show these two phases of
her life. One is in the church of St. Luis at Villagarcia, and the other
in that of St. Isidoro at Oviedo, both founded by the noble dame. In the
first she is seen in all the glory of her youth and beauty, which was
remarkable, in magnificent attire, with costly jewels and a commanding,
though at the same time modest, attitude: the great lady who hides
beneath her velvet and laces the austere virtues of the saint. In the
second picture she wears the severe dress of the widows of the sixteenth
century, more or less similar to that of many nuns of our own day, still
handsome, but worn by years, penitence and vigils; her weeds of coarse
woollen material, with wide stays stiffened with wood at the waist; she
wears no jewels, nor is there anything white in her dress, not even the
coif or veil which surrounds her pale face; her pose is humble, but at
the same time it has something noble and commanding, even elegant: the
picture of the saint who cannot altogether hide under her mourning and
sackcloth the dignity of the lady of high degree.

It was this last Doña Magdalena in her humility and mourning that D.
John received in his arms when she alighted from her litter, at the old
palace in the square of Santiago. Without a word she pressed him for a
long while to her heart, and then made the sign of the Cross on his
forehead, as she always did in old times to Jeromín when he got up and
when he went to bed. D. John seized the generous hand, and kissed it
again and again, at which those present were much affected, not only the
faithful servants from Villagarcia, who had come with Doña Magdalena,
but all D. John's household, who had gone to receive her as if she
really were his mother.

For some time Doña Magdalena had known that envy was making unworthy
murmurings against D. John, and with all a mother's solicitude and fear
she had told him of this. D. John's answer to this letter from Doña
Magdalena is the only one that remains of this interesting
correspondence; it breathes the lad's noble confidence and his absolute
faith in the justice of the King, and the tranquillity of his
conscience. After several arguments which prove this, he adds, "You tell
me, making me very great, to be careful what I do, as all eyes are fixed
on me, and that I should not be too gay, but rather avoid all occasions
which might be harmful. Again I kiss your hands for what you are doing
for me, and I beg you not to tire in so doing. To this, Lady, I reply
with the simple truth of which I am such a friend; I give endless thanks
to Our Lord that since the loss of my uncle and father I have always
tried to live though absent from one who was always so good to me as he
would wish me to live, and thus I think that I have not ruled myself so
badly or done so little, that in this respect anyone can affirm the
contrary. However much I should wish to wear smart clothes, the work of
a nine months' campaign would not afford me much opportunity to do so;
moreover, Lady, all times and conditions are not the same, and I see
that sensible people, who are not fools, change as they get older; if
there are others in the world who, in order to speak ill, fall on
anybody, it does not alarm me, whatever they may murmur or say, and as
you write that this has come to such a pitch that you did not even dare
to ask news about me; however, as far as that goes, saints are not free
from the vexations of the world, but I will try to do my utmost to
behave as you think best, whose good advice I pray that I may always
enjoy, because there is no one I wish or ought to please like her to
whom I owe my up-bringing and my present position; this I shall remember
even in my grave. I pray you to forgive such a long discourse, as the
inventions of the times are enough to make a man do what he least
intended, and let me know if those of the Lady Abbess[11] are such as to
disturb greatly your peace of mind."

Footnote 11:

  His little daughter.

These murmurs wounded Doña Magdalena more than if they had been directed
against herself, and her wish to defend D. John and warn and advise him,
were the principal reasons for her coming to Madrid; because it seemed
to her that all this would be easier in her leisurely visit than to
await a passing one from him, which would of necessity be hurried and
agitated. D. John quieted Doña Magdalena, opening out his heart to her.
These rumours, according to him, came from the Marqués de los Vélez and
the Marqués de Mondejar, whose vanity was wounded, especially the
former's, by D. John's victory over the Moors, which they had not been
able to effect with more time, money and means of action. But these
murmurs had had no influence on the King, so D. John declared. He showed
himself a most loving brother, giving such positive proofs of his
confidence in D. John by appointing him General of the Fleet, and of his
paternal solicitude by counsels and instructions, so that even two days
before he had given a big sheet, corrected by his own hand, in which was
set forth the addresses and formulas to be used in D. John's
correspondence with every sort of person, from the Pope and Kings to the
humblest Councillor or Prior of the Orders. Then Doña Magdalena asked
whether to the names of Mondejar and los Vélez should not be added
another, not so illustrious, but at the same time more powerful, Antonio
Pérez.

D. John strongly repudiated the suspicion. Antonio Pérez had always been
one of his warmest friends. So Doña Magdalena did not insist further, as
she had spoken more by instinct than having certain proof. She, however,
permitted herself to repeat smilingly an Italian proverb, which Luis
Quijada was always quoting, about the honeyed snares and deceptions of
the Court, "Chi non sa fingersi amico non sa essere inimico." Which
impressed D. John, coming from her, although, unfortunately, not as the
instinctive cry of alarm should have done, no doubt an inspiration from
Heaven. Then D. John talked of another person, who was at that time a
thorn in his side, his mother Barbara Blombergh. Away in Flanders, where
she lived, the frivolity and want of decorum of this lady's life had
begun to displease the great Duque de Alba, the Governor of those
States, and he was contemplating taking some violent measures, as she
seemed not to listen to prudent counsels, and the solution D. John
wished was to move her to Spain, for Doña Magdalena to receive her and
constitute herself Barbara's guardian angel.

It grieved Doña Magdalena to see him so sad, and she promised, and, as
we shall see later, performed all he asked; and to distract his
attention from such bitter thoughts, she showed him with glee the rich
neckties and fine shirts she had brought him as a present, because one
of Doña Magdalena's attentions to D. John was that he never wore any
linen that was not sewn by her own hands. She was always at work, and
then sent him large parcels, carefully packed, wherever he happened to
be.

Doña Magdalena's faithful servants came to pay their respects to D.
John, whom they had known as a little boy at Villagarcia. The old
accountant Luis de Valverde, the two squires Juan Galarza and Diego
Ruiz, and the first duenna of honour Doña Petronilla de Alderete, all
came; the other duenna Doña Elizabeth de Alderete was left behind at
Villagarcia to look after Doña Ana of Austria; the duenna came in very
much overcome, and knelt down before D. John to kiss his hand; but he,
touched and smiling and always full of fun, lifted the frail old woman
in the air like a feather, and clasped her in his arms, and, seeing
Jeromín, she dared just to press the smooth, noble forehead of the
future conqueror of Lepanto with her lips. What joy for her this embrace
of her beloved Jeromín, and what an honour and glory to have kissed the
forehead of this august prince, for whom she—she and nobody else—had
sewn and tried on his first breeches!

The satisfaction lasted the good woman to the end of her days, and in
her will, made three years later at Villagarcia, she left D. John her
savings, 320 ducats, to redeem captives of Lepanto, who were to give
honour to D. John and to pray for her soul.




                               CHAPTER IV


D. John started from Madrid to embark at Barcelona on Wednesday, the 6th
of June, 1571, at three o'clock in the afternoon. He was accompanied
only by his Master of the Horse D. Luis de Córdoba, his gentleman D.
Juan de Gúzman, the secretary Juan de Soto, the valet Jorge de Lima, a
caterer, a cook, two _D. Juanillos_ or fools, two couriers, a guide and
three servants, in all fifteen horses. The rest of his following and
servants had been divided into two parties, one which went on ahead with
his Lord Steward the Conde de Priego, and the other which followed under
the chamberlain D. Rodrigo de Benavides. D. John had arranged this in
order to set out more quietly, and to avoid the manifestations of the
love and enthusiasm of the people of Madrid, which he well knew not to
be to the taste of certain personages. His precaution, however, was
useless, because the people got wind of his departure, and from the
morning waited in the little square of Santiago, watching for his
coming, and when he got to the gate of Guadalajara, the crowd was so
great, that it overflowed into the country and extended all along the
side of the road.

The magnificent Roman gate called Guadalajara still existed then, its
strong blocks of rock united by an enormous arch with railings and
balustrades of the same golden stone. Above this archway, and standing
out bravely between two towers, was the beautiful chapel with two
altars, one to venerate the figure of Our Lady, called _la Mayor_, the
other that of a Guardian Angel, with a naked sword in his right hand and
a model of Madrid in his left. All travellers used to pray there, and
following the usual custom, D. John alighted and mounted to the chapel;
and he appeared afterwards at the railing to bow to the people, who were
acclaiming him, and such were the cries of blessing, good-byes and
hurrahs, that, according to a writer of the time, "_it resounded more
than was necessary in some crooked ears_."

D. John slept that night at Guadalajara, in the country house of the
Duque del Infantado, who was waiting there for D. John, with his two
brothers D. Rodrigo and D. Diego de Mendoza, his brother-in-law the
Duque de Medina de Rioseco, and the Conde de Orgaz, all most intimate
friends of D. John. He spent Thursday there, and on Friday, after
dinner, continued his journey, with _more haste and courage_, says
Vander Hammen, _than pleased those who followed him_. D. John truly
journeyed with a light heart, and the way seemed long which separated
him from his dreams of glory. His absolute confidence in Doña Magdalena
and her promises had dispelled the fears he had for his mother's future,
and the affectionate farewell, and fatherly, prudent warnings of his
brother the King, had made him believe that the murmurs and
tittle-tattle of those envious of him had made no impression on the
severe monarch. So D. John was at peace, and he smiled at life, as
fortune smiled on him; he received everywhere honours and ovations, and,
what pleased him more, sincere marks of love and appreciation. A courier
overtook him at Calatayud with a papal brief and letters from Marco
Antonio Colonna, General of the pontifical fleet, and from the Cardinal
Granvelle, temporary Viceroy of Naples, urging him to come to Messina,
which was the meeting-place of the fleets of the Holy League.

He stopped two days at Montserrat to visit the celebrated sanctuary of
the Virgin, and on Saturday, the 16th of June, he entered Barcelona at
five in the evening, amidst the salutes of artillery on land and sea,
the pealing of bells and the cheers of an enormous crowd. The Prior D.
Hernando de Toledo, who was Viceroy of Catalonia, received him, with all
the magistrates and nobility and the Knight Commander D. Luis de
Requesens, D. John's naval lieutenant, who had been awaiting him there
for three days. The city overflowed with the noise and animation natural
to a seaport on the eve of the embarkation of a great enterprise. Flags
were plentiful at sea, and on land soldiers, adventurers, and those
seeking to be enlisted, long strings of slaves destined to row in the
galleys, noble volunteers with brilliant suites, workmen from other
arsenals who had come to work in these dockyards, merchandise of all
kinds, pedlars, friars looking for souls, women seeking gain, and the
curious who thronged the streets and encumbered the dock, already full
of chests of provisions and ammunition, piles of arms, and pieces of
artillery waiting to be put on board ship.

D. John was in his element, and with intelligent and methodical activity
at once began to receive information and to take measures to hasten the
embarkation. He took counsel of the Knight Commander, the Viceroy of
Catalonia, and the secretary Juan de Soto, and decided first to send an
urgent message to the Marqués de Santa Cruz, who was at Cartagena, and
to Sancho de Leiva and Gil de Andrade, who were waiting at Majorca, to
come with the galleys they commanded to Barcelona; these last were to
bring all the biscuit they possibly could. The Archdukes Rudolph and
Ernest then arrived, as they were to embark with D. John to go from
Genoa to their own home, and the next day, at four o'clock in the
afternoon, the merry pealing of all the bells and the shouts of the
people announced that the galleys of Gil Andrade and of Sancho de Leiva
were in sight.

They entered the bay at nine that night, in battle array, with beautiful
illuminations on yards and sides, firing salutes of arquebuses, which
were answered by all the cannon of the city's walls and dockyards.

D. John's royal galley came with these, the same built for him on his
first expedition against the corsairs of the Mediterranean. The next
morning, very early, he went to visit her, and was pleased with the new
improvements, made under Sancho de Leiva's directions, following the
original plan of Bergamesco and Tortilla. The hull had been carefully
careened, the paintings and ornaments renovated, the sails and rigging
renewed, and the artillery reinforced. The figure-head was changed, and
instead of the former Hercules with his club was a Neptune, holding his
trident, riding on a dolphin, and at the stern a new goddess—Thetis,
between two golden eagles with black outlines, and above two life-sized
lions, also gilded, supporting the arms of the King, those of D. John of
Austria, and the Golden Fleece, whose chains ran along each side,
standing out well on the red background, and joining at the prow. The
old lantern with its statue of Fame had disappeared, and in its place,
crowning the stern, were three great lanterns of bronze and copper, gilt
outside and silvered inside, with figures of Faith, Hope and Charity,
more than a palm high. The deck of the round-house was also new, formed
of ninety squares of walnut, with outlines of ebony, boxwood, tin and
blue enamel, with a large flower in gilt bronze in the centre of each;
one could open these squares by means of a key, and beneath appeared
chests in which were stored, in beautiful little wicker baskets, fresh
bread, fruit, and all the service for the table. The crew wore as
uniform jerkins of crimson damask, with little caps of the same, and the
greatest order and cleanliness reigned everywhere.

D. John was very pleased with his galley, and on the 1st of July he took
his two nephews, the Archdukes Rudolph and Ernest, to visit her and gave
them a collation. The galley was decked with streamers and pennons, and
was adorned from stem to stern with red cloth, with many flowers and
ribbons and crimson damask, which covered the bows. They arrived in a
big boat, all hung with tapestry, and with a canopy of damask at the
stern, under which their Highnesses sat; the twelve rowers wearing
jerkins of crimson damask, and caps of the same slashed and trimmed with
gold and feathers.

When the Princes embarked on the galley, the slaves made their "salva de
forzado," which was a kind of song, or rather a sad complaining but not
disagreeable cry, by which these wretches implored mercy of the
visitors. Then a royal salute was fired from all her guns, which was
answered by the galleys in the port. The Princes sat at a table in front
of the roundhouse, under an awning of damask with crimson and white
stripes, and there was served a collation of fruit, sweetmeats, green
and cool drinks, which the heat of the day made delicious.

Meanwhile, at the stern a band of musicians dressed in turquoise brocade
were playing, and to their music the crew were executing a sort of
flying dance, jumping, climbing, and doing a thousand feats among the
yards, topsails, masts and rigging, with such agility, quickness and
order that it was a spectacle of real merit.

When the Princes rose, the Viceroy, the Knight Commander and all the
gentlemen of the suites were served at the same table, with equal
plenty, and at nightfall D. John regained the Viceroy's palace, where he
was living, and where was waiting for him the greatest blow, perhaps, he
ever received in his life, as it was the first and the most unexpected.




                               CHAPTER V


During the absence of D. John on the royal galley that afternoon a
courier had arrived at Barcelona from the Court, bearing various letters
from the King, all in D. Philip's writing, and one of them, dated the
17th of June, or six days after D. John had left Madrid, caused the
latter the bitterest and deepest dismay. It is not recorded what the
orders of D. Philip were which caused such distress to D. John of
Austria; but judging from the two letters which he wrote then, and from
other preceding and following ones, it is certain that following other
orders, unknown to us, this letter also brought reproaches, more or less
severe, from D. Philip to his brother, for having allowed himself to be
addressed as Highness, and for having accepted the honours due to an
Infante, which on all sides were given him; forbidding D. John in future
to accept these honours, which the King had not granted him, and saying
that a letter from Antonio Pérez was coming with a copy of the
instructions which had been sent to the ministers in Italy, respecting
the way in which D. John was to be received and addressed, and he was to
keep strictly to these same instructions.

D. John was thunderstruck at this letter, and it amazed the faithful
secretary Juan de Soto, the only person to whom D. John dared to confide
it. Up to a certain point the fact was true, because it is certain that
nobles and people, great and small, regarded and respected D. John, both
in Spain and out of it, as an Infante of Castille, as he was a son of
the great Emperor and brother to the present King, and because his
personal gifts and deeds made him worthy of the high dignity. But that
which was the spontaneous act of nations and peoples had been
transformed by those envious of D. John into intrigues and presumptuous
efforts to occupy a rank he did not possess, and this had been
treacherously whispered in the Monarch's ear. It seems certain that D.
John's enemies had carried their tittle-tattle and misrepresentations to
Philip II himself; it was also certain that he believed them, and
equally certain—and this is what so pained D. John's loyal heart—that D.
Philip had hidden his displeasure as King and brother, and had said
good-bye to him with false words of kindness and confidence, condemning
him unheard, in his absence, and deputing a minister to sanction, by a
letter, the grave humiliation which he was imposing.

D. John's youthful blood boiled at these thoughts, and, depressed and
dismayed under the weight of his first disillusion, he seriously thought
of renouncing his dreams of glory, and of taking refuge in the
ecclesiastical state, as the Emperor, his father, had counselled, as
being quieter and more peaceful. Juan de Soto comforted him with much
wise reasoning, and for his counsel and encouragement wrote to the
Prince de Évoli, to whom Soto owed his appointment as secretary, the
following letter, asking for advice and explanations, which clearly
shows the trouble and fears which perturbed him:

    "Lord Ruy Gómez, as you well know of H.M.'s new wishes for me
    since I came here, I will not weary you by mentioning them; but
    availing myself of your knowledge, and the permission you gave
    me to go to you as to a father about my concerns, I will say
    that I have resented and do feel it, as I cannot help doing; not
    so much, my lord, is my vanity wounded—as I take God to witness
    that I am free from that—but it gives me much pain that I, alone
    in the world, have deserved such fresh orders, as I lived in the
    utmost confidence that H.M. would show to all that he held to
    me, and that he would be pleased by my being more honoured. I
    confess that the disfavour of putting me on the common level has
    wounded me so much that at times I feel inclined to find some
    other way of serving God and H.M., as in the one I am following
    I am so clearly shown that I do not succeed; however, if
    anything deters me, it is that, as I do not deserve it, it is
    not H.M.'s wish, but that of someone who has more influence with
    him than I have. Consequently, then, Lord Ruy Gómez, if one
    could see through people, perhaps those who enjoy the public
    confidence would have most need of advisers and of reform, and
    this truth I feel the more as the present and future punishment
    is bitter, not through the fault of those less opinionated, who
    have less say in the matter, but by means of those who through
    being so much in favour, and this is certainly seen, show
    themselves finding fault in every way. All this moves me to
    speak and hear others more than to be silent, believing that I
    am pursued by false stories; at all events, I have great cause
    to complain, when you come to think of the little value that has
    been placed on all that I have done, to find myself, which is
    what I feel most, now ordered by H.M. to be placed on a level
    with those whom God, having made me his brother, did not place
    between him and me. I well know that my services do not deserve
    crowns of laurel; but that what I desired to arrive at, and for
    which I worked, should be so little esteemed, and that instead
    of being appreciated it should be thought less of by H.M. is
    what weighs on my mind. I put my trust again in you, whom I
    implore without keeping anything back to write and tell me what
    are the causes of H.M. treating me thus, because if you will
    only let me know that I do not deserve his favours, I would
    rather serve him in some other way than weary him in my present
    one. On which matters, if it appears well to you, I would like
    you to talk to him and give me your advice, reminding him how
    much he will be worthy of God's pleasure in acting as a father
    to one who has no other, but a thousand people who will take
    advantage of my youth and want of experience to compass my ruin,
    as if that were an honour and glory to them. And as far as this
    concerns me I again commend myself and it to your notice, to you
    whom alone I entirely trust.

                          "Our Lord, etc. From Barcelona, July 8, 1571."

[Illustration:

  CARDINAL DE GRANVELLE

  _From his portrait by Gaetano in Musées Municipaux, Besançon_
]

But not satisfied with this, and thinking that it was disloyal not to
tell the King what he was feeling, he wrote this other letter on the
12th of July, humble and submissive, as a vassal of the King, but
dignified, loyal and energetic, as was always his heart and conduct.

    "Sir! For the grace and favour Y.M. has done me by writing with
    your own hand, from the bottom of my heart I kiss your hands. I
    have also received the instructions and other dispatches for my
    journey, and they have arrived in such good time that it annoys
    me how much is being lost here, and consequently so much for
    Y.M.'s service; every day I expect the Marqués de Santa Cruz, on
    whose arrival we can set out, as everything is ready. As to
    following the instructions and opinions of those whom Y.M. has
    designated to help and counsel me, particularly the Knight
    Commander, I will certainly do so, as I know it is my duty, and
    this being so, it will be my pleasure to care for Y.M.'s
    affairs, with as much sincerity and prudence as the one I am at
    present entrusted with. In truth, I have no other desire, and it
    is my duty to arrive at this object, postponing the things of
    less importance, and Y.M. must not doubt that I will continue to
    act thus, and I beg you to tell me always what I do not
    understand, for, as I have written before, I trust so little to
    my youth, experience and judgment, that I well see the want I
    have of another's help; for which reason I again beg Y.M., with
    all humility, that you will continue to warn and reprimand me as
    you think well (after having heard) of what I have left undone,
    because it will not be want of devotion which will prevent me
    doing my duty. The instructions Y.M. gave me on my first setting
    out on a galley, I look on as very precious, and they will be
    the more so now that I realise that it gave Y.M. pleasure, and
    nothing I hold dearer than fulfilling your desires.

    "I answered the Pope as the Knight Commander thought it was best
    not to wait for Y.M.'s reply; and that it was well to let him
    know how the matter stood: however, in future I will keep such
    things secret.

    "You have done me a great favour in ordering Antonio Pérez to
    let me know what he is writing to the ministers in Italy, about
    the way I am to be addressed, and not only shall I be very
    pleased to conform to the wishes of Y.M. in this, but also it
    will be my delight to guess your desires, in order that I may
    follow them as I ought to do; only I make bold to say, with all
    the humility and respect due, that it would be a boundless
    favour and grace if Y.M. would be pleased to communicate
    directly with me about what you desire, for two reasons; the
    chief one being that it is now your pleasure that any of your
    ministers should confer with me as to your wishes, as none of
    them are under as great an obligation to do them as I am; the
    other reason is that before leaving I ought to have given some
    notice that what Y.M. wished should have been done and with less
    fuss; and inasmuch as God has made me Y.M.'s brother, I cannot
    help saying, or continuing to feel, that personally I am worth
    little, but when everyone thought that I deserved more from
    Y.M., and expected to see it, by Y.M.'s orders I see exactly the
    opposite, putting me on the common level, which I do not
    deserve, because I have put the service of Y.M. before vanity
    and everything else, of which God is my witness, and it has
    given me so much pain to see how little you are satisfied with
    me, that often I think that if it is Y.M.'s pleasure I will seek
    some other way of serving you, as in the present one I seem so
    unfortunate in obtaining what I yearn for. Meanwhile I will obey
    Y.M.'s orders as far as possible, although it will be difficult
    amid the adulation I am told exists in Italy. Y.M. will believe
    me that I desire neither honour nor good except that with it one
    can serve the better, but the consideration of this detail does
    not affect me, only to execute your orders, which for no reason
    will I fail to do.

                         "Our Lord, etc. From Barcelona, July 12, 1571."

This was the first sign that Philip II gave his brother D. John of
Austria of the unjust want of confidence which the ingenious Antonio
Pérez knew how to sow in his path, to whom belongs the doubtful honour
of being the only man who for long years could deceive and often pervert
the straight and calm judgment of the prudent Monarch.




                               CHAPTER VI


When for the first time D. John of Austria trod Italian soil, on
disembarking at Genoa, he hastened to send his old Lord Steward D.
Hernando de Carillo, Conde de Priego, to Rome, to kiss, in his name, the
Pope's foot, to thank him for his appointment of Generalissimo, and to
declare himself the most submissive and obedient of his sons. The Pope
answered the steward in the words which he had already written in his
brief: "That I consider him a son, that he must hasten to fight, as, in
the name of God, I assure him victory, and for his honour and
advancement I promise him the first kingdom conquered from the Turk." At
the same time D. John sent D. Miguel de Moncada to Venice, to visit the
Signory, also in his name to cheer them, and tell them that in a very
short time he would be at Messina to settle what was best to be done.

The reception accorded to D. John at Genoa confused and perplexed him,
after the blow that he had received in Barcelona, and he called upon the
Knight Commander and Juan de Soto to witness that he had neither sought
these honours, nor was there any possibility of refusing them.

He did, in fact, receive in Genoa that which had never been granted
before: the Doge in person and all the Signory awaited him at the foot
of the landing-place, and the Dukes of Savoy, Parma, Florence, Ferrara,
Mantua and all the cities of Lombardy sent their representatives to
welcome him. Gian Andrea Doria lodged D. John in his palace, and in his
honour gave a splendid masked ball, at which the Generalissimo delighted
everyone with his great skill in the complicated dances of the day.

The greatest lords of Italy were assembled at Genoa, craving to be
allowed to fight under his orders as volunteers; the best known of them
were the Prince of Parma, Alexander Farnese, and the Duke of Urbino,
Francesco de la Rovere, who was twenty-two, and had just married
Lucrezia of Este, daughter of the Duke of Ferrara. Accompanied by his
brilliant staff, which the most powerful king might have envied, on the
10th of August D. John disembarked at Naples, where the celebrated
Antonio de Perronet, Cardinal Granvelle was temporary Viceroy owing to
the death of the Duque de Alcalá. He was much too clever and politic to
oppose the wave of sympathy which flowed towards D. John throughout
Italy, and allowed the enthusiasm of the Neapolitans to show itself
freely, limiting himself, according to the instructions of D. Philip II,
in not, as everyone else did, addressing D. John as _Highness_.

At Naples was to be given to D. John of Austria the standard of the
League and the baton of Generalissimo, blessed by the Pope, who had sent
it there by Count Gentil de Saxatelo. Cardinal Granvelle was
commissioned by the Holy Pontiff to make the presentation, and he
arranged the ceremony with the greatest pomp and magnificence, in the
Church of the Franciscan convent of St. Clara. On the 14th the ceremony
took place; the first to arrive at St. Clara's was the Cardinal, in
order to receive D. John in the porch. This famous statesman was already
over fifty; he still retained his upright and handsome presence, about
which, with more or less reason, there was so much gossip in his day,
his beard, already quite white, fell, carefully combed, on his breast,
and his rich scarlet vestments were as correct in their ecclesiastical
cut as ever were the secular ones of such a dandy as D. John of Austria.
But it was not in a courtier's fine clothes, but in the garb of war,
that D. John arrived, as being more suitable to the leader who was about
to receive the insignia of Christendom on the eve of battle. He wore a
light Milanese coat of mail of white steel, richly inlaid with gold; the
collar of the Golden Fleece round his neck, and on his helmet a goodly
plume of feathers of the colours of the League; his horse was black,
also covered with white steel, cut out and fastened on crimson velvet,
with arms, tassels, feathers and allegorical figures on the crupper and
headpiece. Similar dress was worn by the greater part of his enormous
suite, among which was the flower of the chivalry of Italy and Spain.

D. John advanced to the steps of the high altar with the Princes of
Parma and Urbino, and sat in front of them on a high seat covered with
brocade. On the Gospel side were displayed the standard and baton on a
dresser with many lights and flowers. The standard was very big,
suitable for a galley of the largest size; all of blue brocade with
great tassels and silken cords; embroidered on it was a great crucifix
with many arabesques of silk and gold round it, and at the foot the arms
of the Pope, with those of the King of Spain on the right hand, and
those of the Signory of Venice on the left, and those of D. John
underneath, all surrounded with an embroidered golden chain, to signify
the union of the League between the three nations. The baton was also
symbolical, forming three batons united by a ribbon, splendidly carved,
with handle and chape of gold adorned with jewels and engraved with the
three coats of arms encircled by a chain. It measured about 24 inches in
length, by about 2-1/2 in diameter.

Cardinal Granvelle celebrated the Pontifical Mass, and at the end of it
D. John of Austria mounted to the chancel, and, kneeling in front of the
altar, received from the hands of Granvelle, first the baton and then
the standard, with these words, which the Cardinal said over three times
in Latin, Spanish and Italian: "Take, fortunate Prince, the insignia of
the true Word made flesh; take the living sign of the holy faith of
which this enterprise is the defender. He gives thee glorious victory
over the impious enemy, whose pride shall be humbled by thy hand." Then
a shout burst out in the church, and a thousand voices, with one accord,
cried "Amen! Amen."

Then a brilliant military procession was formed to carry the standard
from the church to the port; it was carried, furled, on the back of a
white horse, whose crimson velvet cloth dragged on the ground, led by
two captains who took it in turns. Behind came the Lord D. John,
carrying the baton of Generalissimo, followed by the brilliant suite,
all with drawn swords, as if ready to defend the insignia of the Holy
League. It was at length hoisted at the magnificent stern of the royal
galley at one o'clock. D. John himself directed this, and the fleet and
the port saluted him with a formidable salvo of artillery, muskets and
arquebuses, which lasted more than half an hour.

D. John then embraced Count Gentil de Saxatelo, who had brought the
baton and standard, and threw round his neck a golden chain worth 400
crowns.




                              CHAPTER VII


Meanwhile in the port of Messina Marco Antonio Colonna and Sebastian
Veniero, with the Pontifical and Venetian fleets, awaited the coming of
D. John of Austria. The delay made the two Generals impatient,
especially Veniero, an irascible, vehement, fiery old man of seventy,
who saw with anxiety the season advancing and the provisions being
consumed during that useless delay. Colonna shared his fears and
impatience, and a dreadful blow, moreover, came to distract him at this
supreme moment. His angelic daughter Giovanna Colonna, Duchess de
Mondragone, died suddenly in Rome, and this unexpected sorrow plunged
him in the deepest grief. He retired to his galley, not wishing to see
anyone, and ordered that all the galleys of his fleet should be painted
black; the ropes and the sails were also to be stained black, and the
lanterns, escutcheon and flags covered with crape. This sombre mourning
fleet anchored in the port was looked on as a bad omen in Messina, and
sinister rumours of fresh pillage by the Turks in Corfu, and that their
fleet was hastening to fall on Sicily, caused great alarm among this
superstitious and fanatic people, which neither the news that D. John
had left Naples nor the sumptuous preparations for his reception
sufficed to calm. On the 23rd of August, at noon, the Sicilian watchmen
spied a numerous fleet, with all sails set, making for the lighthouse.
Hope awoke in some, terror in others, for while all sensible people were
certain that this was the expected fleet of D. John of Austria, the
ignorant were frightened, and cried out that it was the dreaded Turk,
and upset the town with their shouting and hurrying to and fro. The two
fleets, Pontifical and Venetian, set out to meet the coming one, and on
the weighing of the anchors of Colonna's mourning ships, a great clamour
arose among the superstitious populace, begging that if he left he would
not return, because this black fleet could only bring desolation and
death to Messina. Two miles beyond the entrance of the straits the two
fleets met that of D. John, and the joy and enthusiasm were equal on
both sides. Marco Antonio left his captain's cabin for the first time,
and boarded the royal galley to kiss D. John of Austria's hand; but he
ran to meet the afflicted father, and took him in his arms, and pressed
him to his heart. Marco Antonio Colonna was the picture of a great
Italian noble of his day: tall, well made, and of proud bearing, an oval
face, with a wide, bare forehead, and big moustaches getting grey,
although he was only thirty-five. He was of great intelligence, very
brave and magnanimous, and had the soul of a poet.

The effect of the entrance into Messina of the three united fleets
cannot be described. From the most saintly Christian hope to the most
animal instinct of self-preservation, all passions, ideas and sentiments
of which human nature is capable, joyfully united to bless and welcome
the realisation of their hopes and the overcoming of their fears,
represented at that moment by the Generalissimo D. John of Austria.

He entered Messina by the Royal Gate, under a triumphal arch which ran
out to the sea, and was twenty-five poles in length; there were three
stories and three arches on each front, and 128 columns, which divided
the niches, pedestals and divisions of the endless statues, emblems,
inscriptions and couplets which adorned them, this great fabric ending
in a colossal figure of D. John of Austria, with the vanquished Moors of
Granada at his feet. Perhaps what was greatest and strongest among all
this magnificence was the quiet nature of the youth of twenty-four, who,
far from being made vainglorious by all this adulation, said humbly to
his lieutenant, the Knight Commander: "They give me this in advance; I
trust to God that I shall pay the debt."

D. John assembled all the leaders and generals at once, more to greet
them than to hold a Council, as he fancied some of them were vacillating
from fear, and he preferred to await the arrival of the fresh Nuncio,
whom the Pope was sending to uphold his valorous designs. The Nuncio,
Mons. Odescalchi, Bishop of Penna, came with a great following of
Capuchins, Dominicans, Jesuits and Franciscans, whom the Pope sent to
serve the galleys; he also brought letters for D. John and Marco Antonio
Colonna, exhorting them without hesitation to give battle to the Turk,
as in God's name he assured them of victory. D. John did not require
such advice, and had, with much prudence and cleverness, been meanwhile
preparing the Council, according to what the great Duque de Alba
indicates in the following letter: "Before proposing the matter at a
Council," wrote the Duke from Brussels to D. John, "it would be well to
talk familiarly with each of the Councillors, commending them to
secrecy, and in this way learning their opinion, which is a very good
thing to do; as the person to whom Y.E. thus talks will feel very much
honoured and will be grateful to Y.E. for the confidence placed in him;
and will tell Y.E. freely what he thinks. Because it often happens in
the Council that the soldiers wish to get the best of each other, but
having already told Y.E. their opinion, they will not fall into this
error, or contradict those to whom they owe a grudge for the sake of
contradicting, which is a common habit. And Y.E. having heard all, will
have time to think over the pros and cons which each one has put
forward; and when you go to the Council you will have made up your mind.
Because while hearing and questioning each one, Y.E. must never tell
anyone your own opinion, except to those whom H.M. has ordered you, or
it is Y.E.'s pleasure to consult. In Council do not allow them to be
obstinate; it is well to discuss matters, but private obstinacy Y.E.
must never allow, as it will lower your authority. And Y.E. will be
bound, and it will be a very good thing sometimes, to summon to a great
Council the field-marshals, and some colonels and captains, and those
who can be called to such councils, to give them a taste of public
business, because it will give much satisfaction to people a grade lower
than those summoned."

In this way D. John more or less knew the opinions of all the Council
when he convoked it for nine o'clock on the morning of the 10th of
September. There assembled that day on board the galley "Real" seventy
persons, among whom were thirty officers; it was presided over by the
Nuncio Odescalchi, the honour being conceded to him by D. John, out of
respect for the Pontiff. The Nuncio spoke first in the name of the Pope,
and in a brave speech, full of faith and enthusiasm, exhorted them to
set out without losing time to seek the Turk, and to offer him battle
without hesitation; such was the wish of the Pope, and, in the name of
God, he promised them victory. Then the old Conde de Priego rose, who
had just been able to appreciate for himself the holiness of Pius V, and
without more words or arguments, said that if the Pope desired fighting
and promised them victory in the name of God, it was impiety and madness
to shut their ears and fail in the enterprise. All the captains were
fervent Catholics and friends of the Pope, but most of them did not
equal D. John of Austria's old steward in faith and enthusiasm. One of
them, a long, thin man, with a pointed head, sunken eyes and a flat
nose, who looked more like a Barbary corsair than an Italian prince,
slowly rose, and with much pompousness and dignity said, "That he
thought it rash to provoke the Turk so late in the season in those seas,
and it was, in his opinion, safer to concentrate all the forces of the
Holy League against Tunis, than to expose themselves to a defeat from
such a formidable sea power as Selim II, up to then invincible." The
proposal pleased many, because the courage of the man who made it was
above suspicion; he was none other than Gian Andrea Doria, one of the
most experienced mariners and bravest captains of his day. However,
Marco Antonio Colonna openly contradicted him, proposing a prompt and
decisive battle, according to the wish of the Pope, and turning to D.
John, whose desire to fight he knew, repeated in public what he had said
in private:

"Etiamsi oportet me mori, non te negabo."

Sebastian Veniero upheld Colonna with great vehemence, and the two
Venetian commissaries Barbarigo and Quirini, and then D. John breathed
freely, because once the two other Generals of the League were agreed,
he, as Generalissimo, only had to make up the quarrel. He, however,
allowed all to talk who wished to do so, some for and some against, and
when they had finished, he contented himself with saying, "Enough,
gentlemen; all that remains to be done is to hasten the departure and
set out in search of victory."

Very simple words certainly, but they were undoubtedly the most heroic
in all the story of Lepanto, because it required superhuman courage to
undertake the responsibility of an enterprise so dangerous, that men of
the stamp of Gian Andrea Doria recoiled before it.

D. John began his preparations for his departure by visiting all the
forts and the vessels anchored in the port, which amounted to 200
galleys, fifty-six ships, six formidable galliasses, and more than
80,000 soldiers, counting mercenaries and volunteers. D. John found all
the fleet well supplied and prepared, except the Venetian galleys, which
were very short of soldiers; this the Generalissimo remedied by dividing
among them four Spanish regiments, two of veterans and two of recruits,
which wounded the pride of the Venetians, and was the cause of the
trouble and danger we shall hear of later. In the galley "Marchesa," of
the Pontifical fleet, D. John passed an obscure soldier, whom he did not
particularly notice, but whose fame, nevertheless, was to compete with
his own in the coming ages; he was Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. So it
happens sometimes in life; two geniuses brush against each other without
knowing it, separate personages to whom Providence allots similar
destinies. D. John distributed the monks sent by the Pope among the
various galleys, the Capuchins to the Pontifical ships, the Franciscans
to those of Genoa, Venice and Savoy, and the Jesuits to the Spanish
ones. On board the "Real" was the Franciscan Fr. Miguel Servia,
confessor to D. John, and two other Jesuits, H. Briones and Father
Cristobal Rodriguez, a man of great learning and virtue, who had been a
prisoner of the Turk. Pius V much esteemed Father Cristobal Rodriguez,
and entrusted him to tell D. John very privately and with great
insistency what he had conveyed to him by other channels: not to
hesitate to give battle, as, in the name of God, he promised victory. He
also conveyed from the Pope a piece of the True Cross, an inch long and
half an inch wide, in a clumsy reliquary of silver with two angels at
the sides: it was the wish of the Pontiff that D. John should wear it on
his breast during the battle.

Meanwhile Mons. Odescalchi promulgated a plenary jubilee which the Pope
had granted to all on board the armada who had confessed, communicated,
and prayed to God for victory against the Turk.

The forces all fasted for three days to prepare themselves to gain these
spiritual graces, and there was not a soldier, sailor or galley slave
who did not confess and communicate, and receive from the hands of the
Nuncio a wax Agnus Dei blessed by the Pope, the Generalissimo D. John of
Austria setting the example with all the leaders and officers. Then they
organised a solemn procession of rogation and the Pontifical Nuncio,
wearing vestments, conceded from the high altar to all those who were to
fight the same graces that the Church had granted to the conquerors of
the Holy Sepulchre. On the 16th of September the fleet at last left
Messina for Corfu, and the Nuncio, in a small vessel at the entrance of
the port, blessed the galleys and smaller vessels, one by one, as they
passed.




                              CHAPTER VIII


The fleet moved away carefully, to prevent any surprise from the Turk,
in the order and formation planned by D. John, and communicated in
writing to all the Field-Marshals, Colonels, Captains, Sergeant-Majors
and other officers. In the vanguard was D. Juan de Cardona, with three
Sicilian and four Venetian galleys. He was followed on the right wing at
a distance of twenty miles during the day and eight at night by fifty
galleys, under the orders of Gian Andrea Doria. Behind, on the left
wing, were fifty-three galleys, commanded by the Commissary Agostino
Barbarigo. Then came the centre division of the fleet, consisting of
sixty-two galleys, commanded by the Generalissimo D. John of Austria; on
the right of the "Real" was the flagship of Marco Antonio Colonna, on
the left that of Sebastian Veniero. The rearguard of thirty galleys,
commanded by the Marqués de Santa Cruz, was a mile behind. None of these
divisions were formed of the galleys of one nation only, they were all
intermingled, nor did they fly their own flags, only a pennant of the
colour the Generalissimo had selected as a distinguishing mark. Doria's
pennants were green, Barbarigo's yellow, Don John's blue, and those of
the Marqués de Santa Cruz white. The "Real" and the flagships, instead
of these, flew broad pennants of their respective colours.

The fleet cast anchor that night in the roadstead of San Giovanni, and
at dawn they erected a tent on the shore, in front of the "Real," and
before weighing anchor celebrated the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, as it
was not then lawful to celebrate it on board ship. At the elevation of
the Host so loud were the cries and shouts with which the whole fleet
besought the God of Battles for triumph over those whom they were
pursuing, that the clamour drowned the noise of the drums and clarions
and the salutes of the artillery as they rolled across the waves.

The Armada of the Holy League cast anchor at Corfu on the morning of the
28th of September; there were no signs there of the whereabouts of the
Turk, but on all sides the island showed the marks of his devastating
steps. Then D. John sent Gil de Andrade with four galleys in search of
news, and meanwhile embarked the considerable reinforcements of
artillery, ammunition, victuals and soldiers which the Venetians had
kept there ready.

On the night of the 28th a frigate arrived at Corfu from Cephalonia,
sent by Gil de Andrade, bringing word that the Turks were at Lepanto,
and, without doubt, flying from battle, and retiring to their winter
quarters, because their Generalissimo Ali Pasha had taken leave of the
Viceroy of Algiers, Aluch Ali, with his 110 galleys; so that the Ottoman
fleet was reduced to 180 galleys; but unfortunately, these tidings were
absolutely false. It was true that the Ottoman Armada was at Lepanto,
and also that the Viceroy of Algiers, Aluch Ali, had separated himself,
with his galleys, from it; but it was only a temporary absence, to
reconnoitre the archipelago, and he was already back at Lepanto, where
the whole powerful fleet was, much superior to the Christian one, and,
far from fleeing from fighting, they were trying to provoke a battle.
This mistake on the part of the Christians, and a similar one, as we
shall see, on the part of the Turks, was no doubt the simple means which
Providence employed to bring about the decisive combat between the Cross
and the Crescent, which could have been effected in no other way.

D. John, satisfied with this information, ordered the decks to be
cleared for action, and this time, in agreement with all the Generals,
decided to wait at Gomenizza, while the wind, then contrary, did not
permit them to make for Lepanto. The bay of Gomenizza is on the Albanian
coast, thirty miles south-east of the port of Corfu, and there for the
last time discord managed to upset the plans God was unfolding. This was
on the 2nd of October, and the order had already been given to have
everything in readiness for sailing the next morning at daybreak.
Consequently there reigned in all the galleys the confusion that such
manœuvres always bring, and on the Venetian Áquila, whose Captain was a
native of Crete, Andres Calergi, two Spanish arquebusiers were disputing
with a Venetian sailor as to whether or no the latter had come against
them with the end of a yard; the contention became general, owing to the
bad feeling between the Spanish arquebusiers and the Venetian sailors,
who looked upon them as interlopers on their ships, and it was all
aggravated by the Captain, Muzio Alticozzi, taking part. He was a
quarrelsome, wrong-headed man, who had already got himself into trouble
with the law; words changed to blows, and then arms were used with such
rage and violence, that in a few moments the deck was covered with many
wounded and some dead bodies. The Ammiraglio, or head of the police,
hastened with four boatswains, sent by Sebastian Veniero himself, to
make peace, arrest Muzio, and end the fight. But Muzio was not a man to
let himself be taken easily, and seizing the first arquebus he could
find, he stretched the Ammiraglio dead with a ball in his chest, and put
the boatswains to flight, wounding two of them. Meanwhile the Colonel of
the arquebusiers, Paolo Sforza, flew to the flagship of Veniero, begging
him to go in person to quiet his men, and already blind with rage,
threatening to throw him overboard and also to sink his galley, the old
Venetian sent his Captain to go on board the ship which was the scene of
the struggle. He went on board at the head of his sailors, arrested
Muzio and two of the most turbulent Spaniards, and in less than ten
minutes the fleet could see all three hanging from a yard.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Anderson_

  SEBASTIAN VENIERO, DOGE OF VENICE

  _By Titian. Prado Gallery, Madrid_
]

Sebastian Veniero's usurpation of the exclusive right of the
Generalissimo to administer justice was so great and grave an offence
against the person of D. John and the King of Spain, whom he
represented, that on seeing the corpses swinging in space, in all the
fleet there was a moment of terrified silence; the same idea, the same
thought of danger, crossed all minds and dismayed all hearts, and
without an order being given, or a word spoken, or a signal made, the
Venetian galleys were seen slowly grouping themselves round Veniero's
ship, and the Spanish and Pontifical ones falling back in order to
surround that of the Generalissimo D. John of Austria, all the
artillerymen charging their guns, the sailors sharpening their axes, and
the soldiers, without a word, seizing their pikes and arquebuses. A
stray shot, an ill-timed cry, and farewell to the Holy League, and
Christian would have fallen on Christian, the Turks a mile away, and the
whole future of Europe and the triumph of the Cross at stake!

D. John was on deck with Juan de Soto and the Prince of Urbino, playing
with a little monkey, which was a great amusement to him, when his
attention was aroused by the shots and shouting. He at once asked the
cause of the tumult, and before they could give him any reply, Colonel
Paolo Sforza hurried on board the "Real," livid with rage, and with loud
voice calling for justice against the injuries that Sebastian Veniero
was doing him. D. John heard him with astonishment, hardly believing his
own ears, when he saw slowly being raised, on the galley "Aquila," the
yard from which were hanging the three Spanish arquebusiers. Then he was
so furious that he walked up and down the bridge like a caged animal,
muttering words which seemed like the growls of a lion when pierced by a
spear. The Spanish Captains, mad with rage, came round him, the most
moderate asking that the "Real" should attack the Venetian Admiral's
ship and throw Veniero, laden with chains, into the hold. At the same
moment from different directions, came on board the "Real" Marco Antonio
Colonna, and a corpulent, vigorous old man with an enormous moustache,
who was Agostino Barbarigo, coming to D. John with the greatest
earnestness, begging for peace, offering explanations and shedding
tears. D. John listened to them, leaning his elbows on the side of the
ship, digging his nails into his chest until they drew blood, and so
much did these two brave and honourable men do and say, that at length
the rage of the Generalissimo softened, not little by little but all at
once, as a hurricane ceases when God clips the wings of the storm, and,
his great nature already freed from the chains of wrath which bound it,
he turned to his Captains, who, almost in arms, were asking for
vengeance and extreme measures, and said to them quietly, "I know better
than anyone what I owe to the King, my brother, and to God, who has put
me in this enterprise."

And he sent Barbarigo to tell Sebastian Veniero to go back at once to
his flagship; that never was he to show himself on board the "Real," and
that from that moment Barbarigo was appointed in his stead to represent
Venice on the Council, and that he should prepare everything to weigh
anchor that night, to make for Lepanto.

In the log kept on board the "Real" by D. John's confessor Fr. Miguel
Servia, after referring to these events, it says: "This same day (3rd of
October), by order of His Highness, a proclamation was made, that no
soldier should let off an arquebus under pain of death; and His Highness
went from ship to ship, giving orders as to what was to be done."




                               CHAPTER IX


Meanwhile the Turks had reinforced their fleet until their 290 galleys
held 120,000 men, counting soldiers and rowers. They had, like the
Christians, divided the fleet into three divisions: the centre one
commanded by the great Admiral Ali Pasha, an arrogant young man, more
brave than prudent, in all the pride of his youth and of being the
favourite of Selim II; the right wing was under the orders of the King
of Negroponto, Mahomet Scirocco, a cautious man of mature years, brave
as well as experienced; and the left wing was commanded by the Viceroy
of Algiers, Aluch Ali, surnamed "el Fartass," that is "The mean one," a
former Calabrian renegade, an old man of sixty-eight, careful, brave and
crafty, whom more than forty years of piracy had made familiar with
these seas.

At Lepanto Ali Pasha received a message from Selim II, much to his
satisfaction, ordering him to give battle, and in order to do this he
assembled his Council of War on board his galley, "La Sultana," on the
4th of October. The Council consisted of the two Generals of the Fleet,
Mahomet Scirocco and Aluch Ali, the Serasker or general of all the
troops, Perter Pasha, and several great dignitaries of the Empire, to
the number of twenty, among whom were the former King of Algiers, Hassen
Pasha, and two sons of Ali, who were still children, Ahmed Bey, who was
eighteen, and Mahomet Bey, aged thirteen, who with their tutor Alhamet
commanded a galley.

The Turkish fleet was undeniably superior to the Christian, and wherein
lay, perhaps, its greatest advantage was that it was not like the
Christian fleet compounded of different elements, who might, and in fact
did, have different and even opposing interests. Far from this, the
Turks were all vassals of one lord, and neither desired glory or power
for anything but the Empire. However, Selim II's order to give battle
was vigorously opposed in the Council, and the first to do so was Aluch
Ali, who, with many weighty reasons, drawn from his experience of
Christian warfare, showed what harm defeat would entail. The Serasker
Perter Pasha and Mahomet Scirocco agreed with him, being much perturbed
over the six formidable galliasses of the Christians; these vessels, the
greatest of their day, carried twenty cannon, and easily broke through
any line of battle which confronted them.

Ali Pasha's arrogant petulance then turned to insolence; he jeered at
the fears of the veterans, and told the Council of the information he
had received from two spies, Kara Kodja and Kara Djali, Barbary
corsairs, whom he had sent to reconnoitre the Christian fleet in Corfu;
according to them it was so inferior in strength and numbers that it
would have difficulty in resisting the attack of the Turks. Ali,
however, did not know that this enumeration had been made while the
vanguard of D. Juan de Cardona and the rearguard of the Marqués de Santa
Cruz had been detached at Tarento with some other ships, and that,
consequently, there only remained at the moment seventy galleys in the
fleet of the League. Thus the confidence of both Generalissimos, Ali
Pasha and D. John of Austria, was founded on the same error; D. John
supposed that the galleys of Aluch Ali had separated themselves from the
Turkish fleet, and were on their way to Algiers or Tripoli; and Ali
Pasha, not reckoning on the ships of D. Juan de Cardona, or those of the
Marqués de Santa Cruz, and in his ignorance of naval matters, which was
great, failed to appreciate the importance of the six galliasses which
old Mahomet Scirocco so much feared.

The discussions became embittered, until there was contention among the
Ottoman leaders, to which Aluch Ali put an end by saying, "Silence, I am
ready, because it is written that the youth of a Captain Pasha has more
weight than my forty-three years of fighting. But the Berbers have made
sport of you, Pasha! Remember this when the peril draws nigh."

Having said this with impassive Oriental gravity, Aluch Ali left to
prepare his fleet. Then everyone was for Ali Pasha; but he, more for
appearance than from fear or want of confidence, desired to send the
corsair Kara Kodja to make fresh investigation of the enemy's strength.
So the Barbary pirate set out from Lepanto with two galleys, and began
to seek cautiously for the allied fleet; on the 5th he had crossed the
long, narrow channel of Ithaca, which is at the extreme north of the bay
of Samos, in Cephalonia, having to take refuge in the creek of Pilaros,
owing to bad weather. D. John proposed to reach the isles of Curzolari
from the north, and to shelter among these islands to rest the crews on
the 6th, and to fall back suddenly on Cape Scropha on the 7th,
surprising the Turkish fleet anchored at Lepanto. Kara Kodja, with
daring, entered the channel of Ithaca with his two galleys, and
discovered the allied fleet at Pilaros; but he had gone so far that the
Christians, in their turn, discovered him and gave chase, and it was
only by the great strength of his oarsmen, and because the wind favoured
him, that he was able to escape. However, again this time God desired to
blind this Barbary pirate, and in the hurry and fear of his flight his
sharp eyes failed to see the ships that were sheltered behind a bend of
the bay. So Kara Kodja thought that the fleet had not altered since he
saw it at Corfu without its rear or vanguard, and returned triumphant to
Lepanto, confident in his mistake, and he announced to Ali Pasha that
the Christians were at Pilaros, in Cephalonia, and that there was
nothing to diminish the enormous advantage the Turks had over them.

Ali Pasha wanted no second telling; he hurried to leave Lepanto, to go
and cast anchor in the bay of Calydon, at the mouth of the gulf, only
twelve miles distant from that fatal Cape Scropha, to which the Turks
gave, the next day, the sinister name of Cape Sangriento.

D. John, meanwhile, was anchored in the port of Petala, seven miles from
Cape Scropha, on the opposite side, without suspecting the proximity of
the enemy. Therefore both fleets were resting on either side of the
fatal point, like two enemies who, drawn through hatred, approach
without knowing, lie in wait, and suddenly meet each other without
expecting to do so, by rounding the same corner. D. John thought the
Turks were at Lepanto, Ali imagined the Christians to be still in
Cephalonia, and was going to seek them there. At daybreak on the 7th of
October, 1571, D. John of Austria ordered the fleet to leave the port of
Petala, and very carefully to go along the channel between the coast of
Greece and Oxia, the last island of the Curzolari; in the latitude of
Cape Scropha the watch on the "Real" made signals that two sails were in
sight. Then the curious at once covered masts and yards, but it was not
two sails that they saw; there were dozens and dozens which stood out
against the blue of the sky and the blue of the sea, skimming the waves
like a flock of white sea-gulls. There was no doubt; the enemy was in
sight; the belligerents had met face to face turning the same corner. It
was then seven o'clock in the morning.

D. John of Austria at once ordered his pilot, Cecco Pizano, to disembark
on one of the high islets, to observe the strength of the enemy. From
this height could be seen all the wide bay, and in it Pizano spied the
Turkish fleet advancing, about twice as numerous as had been supposed,
favoured by the breeze, which was hindering and embarrassing the
manœuvres of the Christians. The pilot was horrified at what he saw, and
back on the "Real" he did not dare say what he had seen at such a
critical moment, and contented himself with whispering in the
Generalissimo's ear, "Put out your claws, my lord, for the job will be a
tough one."

On hearing this D. John made no sign, and as at that moment several of
his Captains came to ask him whether he would not hold a last Council,
he answered blandly, "There is no time for anything but fighting."

And he at once ordered a small cannon on the "Real" to be fired, and a
white flag to be run up in the centre of the galley, which was, ever
since Messina, the signal for battle.




                               CHAPTER X


Calmness in the presence of danger had always been one of D. John of
Austria's great qualities, and it did not fail him in this crisis. He
refrained from telling anyone of the fears and anxieties that Cecco
Pizano's information had inspired in him, and without wasting a second
he at once began to take measures with that intelligence and orderly
activity required by the art of war, seeing and taking in everything at
a glance, making his arrangements without hurry or confusion.

He ordered that a little rowing and sailing galley, employed to transmit
orders, should come alongside of the "Real," and he embarked in her with
Juan de Soto and D. Luis de Córdoba, to visit, one by one, all the
galleys of the centre division and of the right wing; those of the left
he gave over to his lieutenant the Knight Commander, Luis de Requesens.

In all the galleys D. John gave orders, the forethought and prudence of
which could be appreciated later. He ordered that in all the galleys the
high peaks should be cut off, to ensure the more effectual working of
the forward guns.

He made them take off the chains and give arms to those galley slaves
who were condemned to row for ordinary offences, promising them pardon
if they gave a good account of themselves in the fight. These poor
creatures wept and embraced the boatswains who came to give them arms,
swearing to die, as, in truth, most of them did, for the Faith, the
King, and D. John of Austria. He also ordered on deck the best food in
the holds, and leather bottles of wine to be divided among the crews,
and then went among them to speak to them and to encourage them.

D. John went unarmed, with an ivory crucifix in his hand, that he
afterwards gave to his confessor Fr. Miguel Servia, which existed in the
convent of Jesus, outside the walls of Palma in Majorca until 1835. His
words were not polished nor his arguments intricate; he only told them
that they were fighting for the faith, and that there was no heaven for
cowards. But he said it all so earnestly and courteously, and his
declarations and promises so evidently came from his heart, that they
filled all with enthusiasm and the wish to be brave, as if he were
filling them with some of his own heroism.

He gave medals to some, money to others, to others scapularies and
rosaries, and, when he had no more to give, he bestowed his hat on one
and divided his gloves between two more. And when a Captain offered the
galley slave who had received it fifty ducats for one of the gloves, the
man promptly refused, and stuck it in his hat as if it had been the
finest plume.

The two fleets came face to face at eleven o'clock in the morning,
scarcely a league dividing them. Then in a moment Ali Pasha could
understand the extent of his error, seeing ship after ship that he had
not counted on coming up the narrow channel of Oxia, and Marco Antonio
Arrozo narrates that, turning round to the Christian captives who were
chained to the benches, he said to them, deadly pale, "Brothers! Do what
is your duty in return for the good treatment I have given you. If I am
victorious, I promise you liberty, and if to-day is your day, God gives
it to you."

Then the crafty Aluch Ali proposed to tack so as to bring the Christian
fleet under the fire of the entrance of the gulf; but the proud Ottoman
leader answered that never should the galleys of the Padisha, under his
command, offer even an appearance of flight. Meanwhile the two fleets
were manœuvring to form up for battle, the Ottoman one in the open sea,
light and favoured by the wind, the Christian one heavy, and shut in by
visible and invisible rocks which there surround the Curzolari islands,
and hampered by the contrary wind. They spread out their left wing to
the coast, getting quite close when the sounding allowed it, to prevent
the Turkish galleys passing and attacking them from the rear. It was
formed of fifty-three galleys, under Agostino Barbarigo, whose galley
went first, as guide on the land side, the guide of the other side was
Marco Quirini, with Venice's third flagship. The right wing, on the
other hand, went out to sea; it consisted of fifty-six galleys,
commanded and guided from the extreme right by Gian Andrea Doria, whose
flagship had a globe of glass as a lantern, with gilded hoops; the left
was guided by D. Juan de Cardona, with the flagship of Sicily.

Between the two wings, forming the centre division, were sixty-two
galleys; in the middle the "Real" of D. John of Austria, flanked on each
side by the flagships of the Captains Marco Antonio Colonna and
Sebastian Veniero, and their stern guarded by D. John's "Patrona" and
the ship of the Knight Commander D. Luis de Requesens, who did not wish
to be separated for an instant from the Generalissimo; the two extremes
of the centre division were led, on the left by the flagship of Malta,
commanded by the Prior of Messina, Fr. Pietro Gustiniani. Behind the
centre division and at a convenient distance were the thirty galleys in
reserve, commanded by the Marqués de Santa Cruz. There was not more than
the space necessary for manœuvring between ship and ship, and the line
of the allied fleet extended at sea for nearly two miles. A mile in
front of the line of battle were the six galliasses, two appertaining to
each part of the fleet.

Ali Pasha had disposed his fleet in an identical manner; he also spread
out his right wing, composed of fifty-six galleys, towards the land,
under Mahomet Scirocco. The left, formed of ninety-three galleys, also
went to sea, under the orders of Aluch Ali; and in the midst of the
centre division, formed of ninety-five galleys, a ship of Ali Pasha's
pressed forward, a very large one, with five high stanchions with five
great gilded lanterns in the stern, and well supplied with artillery and
with more than 500 men, Turks of Epacos, excellent archers and gunners
who were the pick of his force. Round her, to defend her, were seven
galleys, the strongest and best that the Serasker Perter Pasha had.
Behind the centre division, as in the allied fleet, were thirty galleys
in reserve. The space between the ships was the same in both fleets, and
the Turkish fleet stretched for over four miles. Therefore the two
armadas were each formed into three divisions, which each faced an
enemy. That of Barbarigo was opposite that of Mahomet Scirocco; that of
D. John of Austria was opposite that of Ali Pasha, and Gian Andrea Doria
was facing Aluch Ali, the real and most redoubtable Captain of the
Turks.

D. John's visit had aroused enthusiasm among the galleys, and all
preparations being made, they only waited for the signal of battle. The
Generalissimo had also made his preparations on the "Real"; he ordered
that the deck should be cleared as much as possible, in order to give
plenty of room for fighting and for suitably posting the 400 veterans of
the Cerdena regiment whom he had on board. He confided the defence of
the platforms of the forecastles to the Field-Marshals D. Lope de
Figueroa and D. Miguel de Moncada, and to Andres de Mesa and Andres de
Salazar; the midships to Gil de Andrade; the kitchen to D. Pedro Zapata
de Calatayud; the boat to Luis Carillo; the quarter-deck to D.
Bernardino de Cardenas, D. Rodrigo de Mendoza Cervellon, D. Luis de
Cardena, D. Juan de Gúzman, D. Felipe Heredia, and Rui Diaz de Mendoza;
and as principal defender of the ship and true Generalissimo of the
battle, he had hung up, in a wooden box, the Moorish crucifix rescued by
Luis Quijada, which D. John always carried about with him.

From the stern D. John followed the manœuvres of both fleets, and, not
to lose sight of them for a moment, he began to don his armour there,
under the little awning of red and white damask which was at the door of
his cabin; he put on a strong black coat of mail with silver nails;
below the cuirass he wore the "piece of the True Cross," the present of
Pius V, and over the cuirass the Golden Fleece, as by the statutes of
the order a knight should always wear it when he engages in battle. D.
John had just finished arming himself when he noticed that Gian Andrea
Doria had got too far ahead with the wing he was commanding, leaving a
wide space between the left and the centre of the line; he also observed
that Aluch Ali had followed the manœuvre of Doria with a parallel
Turkish one with his left wing, and at once understood the strategy of
the cunning renegade, who wished, and was succeeding in doing so, to
separate the Christian right wing from the centre division, in order to
surround them completely and cut them off. D. John hastened to send a
frigate to Doria, to warn him of the trap into which he had fallen, and
which threatened to cause the loss of the battle; but, unfortunately, it
was too late, and the frigate had not time to cover the three miles
which separated them from Doria.

The Turkish fleet came on imposing and terrible, all sails set, impelled
by a fair wind, and it was only half a mile from the line of galliasses
and another mile from the line of the Christian ships.

D. John waited no longer; he humbly crossed himself, and ordered that
the cannon of challenge should be fired on the "Real," and that the blue
flag of the League should be hoisted at the stern, which unfurled itself
like a piece of the sky on which stood out an image of the Crucified. A
moment later the galley of Ali replied, accepting the challenge by
firing another cannon, and hoisting at the stern the standard of the
Prophet, guarded in Mecca, white and of large size, with a wide green
"cenefa," and in the centre verses from the Koran embroidered in gold.
At the same moment a strange thing happened, a very simple one at any
other time, but for good reason then considered a miracle: the wind fell
suddenly to a calm, and then began to blow favourably for the Christians
and against the Turks. It seemed as if the Voice had said to the sea,
"Be calm," and to the wind, "Be still." The silence was profound, and
nothing was heard but the waves breaking on the prows of the galleys,
and the noise of the chains of the Christian galley slaves as they
rowed.

Fr. Miguel Servia blessed from the quarter-deck all those of the fleet,
and gave them absolution in the hour of death. It was then a quarter to
twelve.




                               CHAPTER XI


The first shot was fired by the galliass "Capitana," commanded by
Francisco Duodo, and it smashed the biggest of the five lanterns which
crowned the stern of Ali Pasha's galley; the second injured the castle
of a neighbouring galley, and the third sunk a small vessel which was
hurrying to transmit orders. Then there was a retrograde movement
throughout the Turkish fleet, which the bravery of Ali Pasha at once
checked. He rushed to the tiller and made the "Sultana" pass between the
galliasses with the rapidity of an arrow, without firing a shot; all the
fleet followed him, their line already broken, but prepared to form up
again when they had passed the obstacle, as the water of a river
reunites after it has passed the posts of a bridge which has impeded and
divided it. The left Christian wing and the Turkish right one were the
first to engage. Mahomet Scirocco attacked with such force in front, and
with such tumult of shouts and savage cries, according to the Turkish
custom when fighting, that all attention was drawn to one point;
meanwhile some of his light galleys slipped past on the land side and
attacked the stern of Barbarigo's flagship, who saw himself sorely
pressed as the crew of Mahomet Scirocco's galley had boarded his by the
prow, and the Turks were already up to the mizzen mast. The Christians
defended themselves like wild beasts, gathered in the stern, and
Barbarigo himself was directing them and cheering them on from the
castle. He had lifted the vizor of his helmet, and was using his shield
against the storm of arrows that flew through the air. To give an order,
he uncovered himself for a moment, and an arrow entered by the right eye
and pierced his brain. He died the next day.

Then there was grave risk of the Turks overcoming the Venetian flagship,
destroying the left wing, and then attacking the centre division on the
flank and from the rear, making victory easy. Barbarigo's nephew Marino
Contarini overcame the danger. He boarded his uncle's ship on the
larboard side with all his people, and fought on board perhaps the
fiercest combat of all on that memorable day. All was madness, fury,
carnage and terror, until Mahomet Scirocco was expelled from the
Venetian flagship and penned, in his turn, in his own ship, where he at
last succumbed to his wounds. Clinging to the side, they beheaded him
there and threw him into the water. Terror then spread among the Turks,
and the few galleys at liberty turned their prows towards the shore.
There they ran aground, the decimated crews saving themselves by
swimming.

D. John had no time to reflect either on this danger, or that
catastrophe, or that victory, for he was also hard pressed. Five minutes
after Mahomet Scirocco had fallen on Barbarigo, Ali Pasha fell on him
with all the weight of his hatred, fury and desire for glory. He could
be seen proudly standing on the castle of the stern, a magnificent
scimitar in his hand, dressed in a caftan of white brocade woven with
silk and silver, with a helmet of dark steel under his turban, with
inscriptions in gold and precious stones, turquoises, rubies, and
diamonds, which flashed in the sunlight. Slowly the two divisions came
on, unheeding what happened on the right or left, and in the midst were
the galleys of the two Generalissimos, not firing a shot, and only
moving forward silently. When the length of half a galley separated the
two ships, the "Sultana" of Ali Pasha suddenly fired three guns; the
first destroyed some of the ironwork of the "Real" and killed several
rowers; the second traversed the boat; and the third passed over the
cook's galley without harming anyone. The "Real" replied by sweeping
with her shots the stern and gangway of the "Sultana," and a thick,
black smoke at once enveloped Turks and Christians, ships and
combatants. From this black cloud, which appeared to be vomited from
Hell, could be heard a dreadful grinding noise, and horrible cries, and
through the smoke of the powder could be seen splinters of wood and
iron, broken oars, weapons, human limbs and dead bodies flying through
the air and falling in the bloodstained sea. It was the galley of Ali
which had struck that of D. John by the prow with such a tremendous
shock that the peak of the "Sultana" entered the "Real" as far as the
fourth bench of rowers; the violence of the shock had naturally made
each ship recoil; but they could not draw apart. The yards and rigging
had become entangled, and they heaved first to one side and then to the
other with dreadful grinding and movement, striving to get free without
succeeding, like two gladiators, whose bodies are separated, who grasp
each other tightly, and then seize each other by the hair. From the
captain's place where he was, at the foot of the standard of the League,
D. John ordered grappling-irons to be thrown from the prow, holding the
ships close together, and making them into one field of battle. Like
lions the Christians flung themselves on board the ship, destroying all
in their path, and twice they reached the mainmast of the "Sultana," and
as often had to retire, foot by foot and inch by inch, fighting over
these frail boards, from which there was neither escape, nor help, nor
hope of compassion, nor other outlet than death.

The "Sultana" was reinforced with reserves from the galleys, and to
encourage them, Ali, in his turn, threw himself on board the ship. The
"Sultana" rode higher out of the water than the "Real," and the men
poured down into her like a cataract from on high; the shock was so
tremendous that the Field-Marshals Figueroa and Moncada fell back with
their men, and the Turks succeeded in reaching the foremast. All the men
at the prow hastened there, and D. John jumped from the captain's post,
sword in hand, fighting like a soldier to make them retire. This was the
critical moment of the battle. There was neither line, nor formation,
nor right, nor left, nor centre; only could be seen, as far as the eye
could reach, fire, smoke and groups of galleys in the midst, fighting
with each other, vomiting fire and death, with masts and hulls bristling
with arrows, like an enormous porcupine, who puts out its quills to
defend itself and to fight; wounding, killing, capturing, cheering,
burning were seen and heard on all sides, and dead bodies and bodies of
the living falling into the water, and spars, yards, rigging, torn-off
heads, turbans, quivers, shields, swords, scimitars, arquebuses, cannon,
arms, everything that was then within the grasp of barbarism or
civilisation for dealing death and destruction.

At this critical moment, by a superhuman effort, a galley freed itself
from that chaos of horrors, and threw itself, like a missile from a
catapult, hurled by Titans, against the stern of Ali's galley, forcing
the peak as far as the third bench of rowers.

It was Marco Antonio Colonna who had come to the assistance of D. John
of Austria; at the same time the Marqués de Santa Cruz executed a
similar manœuvre on one of the flanks. The help was great and opportune;
still, the Turks succeeded in retiring in good order to their galley;
but here, pressed hardly by the followers of Colonna and Santa Cruz,
they tumbled over the sides, dead and living, into the water, Turks and
Christians fighting to the last with nails and teeth, and destroying
each other until engulfed in the gory waves.

Among this mass of desperate people Ali perished beside the tiller; some
say that he cut his throat and threw himself into the sea; others that
his head was cut off and put on a pike. Then D. John ordered the
standard of the Prophet to be lowered, and amidst shouts of victory, the
flag of the League was hoisted in its place.

D. John had been wounded in the leg,[12] but without limping at all he
mounted the castle of the vanquished galley to survey from there the
state of the battle. On the left wing the few galleys left to Mahomet
Scirocco were flying towards the land, and could be seen running
violently aground in the bays, the crews throwing themselves into the
water to swim ashore.

Footnote 12:

  "I got without knowing how a small cut in my ankle; but one ought to
  feel nothing considering such happy events."

  Letter from D. John to the Prior Hernando de Toledo about the battle
  of Lepanto. From the Alba archives.

But, unluckily, the same was not happening on the right. Doria, deceived
by the tactics of Aluch Ali, had followed him out to sea, making a wide
space between the right wing and the centre division; D. John's orders
to him to come back did not arrive in time. Meanwhile, Aluch Ali
contented himself by watching Doria's manœuvres, keeping up with him,
but not attacking; until suddenly, judging, no doubt, that the space was
wide enough, he veered to the right with marvellous rapidity, and sent
all his fleet through the dangerous breach, literally annihilating the
two ends which remained uncovered; the disaster was terrible and the
carnage awful; on the flagship of Malta only three men remained alive,
the Prior of Messina, Fr. Pietro Giustiniani, pierced by five arrows, a
Spanish gentleman with both legs broken, and an Italian with an arm cut
off by a blow from an axe. In the flagship of Sicily D. Juan de Cardona
lay wounded, and of his 500 men only fifty remained. The "Fierenza," the
Pope's "San Giovanni," and the "Piamontesa" of Savoy succumbed without
yielding; ten galleys had gone to the bottom; one was on fire, and
twelve drifted like buoys, without masts, full of corpses, waiting until
the conqueror, Aluch Ali, should take them in tow as trophies and spoils
of war. Doria, horrified at the disaster, in all haste returned to the
scene of the catastrophe, but D. John was already there before him.
Without waiting a moment, the Generalissimo ordered that the towing
ropes which already attached twelve galleys to their conquerors should
be cut, and although wounded, and without taking any rest after his own
struggle, he flew to the assistance of those who were being overcome.
"Ah! Brave Generalissimo," exclaims Admiral Jurien de la Graviere, in
his valuable study of the battle of Lepanto, "to him the armada owed its
victory, to him the right wing its preservation." The Marqués de Santa
Cruz followed with his whole reserve, and seeing this help, the already
victorious Aluch Ali understood that the prey would be torn from his
claws.

The cunning renegade then thought only of saving his life, which he did
by a means that no one else would have employed; he placed his son in a
galley, and followed by thirteen other ones, passed like a vapour in
front of the prows of the enemy, before they could surround him, and
fled incontinently to Santa Maura, all sails set, he at the tiller, the
unfortunate rowers with a scimitar at their throats, so that they should
not flag or draw breath for a second, and should die rather than give
in.

The first moment of astonishment over, the Marqués de Santa Cruz and D.
John of Austria hastened in pursuit; but the advantage Aluch Ali had
obtained increased each minute, night began to fall, and the storm which
had threatened since two o'clock began to blow, and the first claps of
thunder were heard. So the famous renegade escaped on the wings of the
storm, as if the wrath of God were protecting him and preserving him to
be the scourge of other people.

This was the last act of the battle of Lepanto, _the greatest day that
the ages have seen_, as we are assured by a witness who shed his blood
there, Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra.

It was then five o'clock on the evening of the 7th of October, 1571.




                              CHAPTER XII


In the afternoon of that same day, the 7th of October, 1571, the Pope
was walking about his room, listening to the relation by his treasurer,
Mons. Busotti de Bibiana, of various businesses committed to his care;
the Pope suffered terribly from stone, and as usually the pain attacked
him while seated, he had to receive and to do his business standing up
or walking up and down. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the room
and put out his head in the attitude of one listening, at the same time
making a sign to Busotti to be silent. Then he went to the window, which
he threw open wide, leaning out, still silent and in the same listening
attitude. Busotti looked at him in astonishment, which changed to terror
on seeing the face of the old Pontiff suddenly transfigured, his tearful
blue eyes turned to heaven with an ineffable expression, and his joined
and trembling hands raised; Busotti's hair stood on end as he understood
that something supernatural and divine was happening, and thus he
remained for more than three minutes, as the same treasurer afterwards
declared on oath.

Then the Pope shook off his ecstasy, and with a face radiant with joy,
said to Busotti, "This is not the time for business. Let us return
thanks to God for victory over the Turks."

And he retired to his oratory, says Busotti, stumbling, and with
beautiful lights coming from his forehead. The treasurer hastened to
acquaint the prelates and Cardinals with what had happened, and these
ordered that at once a record should be made, noting all the
circumstances of time and place, and that it should be deposited, sealed
up, at a notary's office. On the 26th of October a messenger from the
Doge of Venice, Mocenigo, arrived in Rome, to announce the victory of
Lepanto, and three or four days later the Conde de Priego, sent by D.
John to give an account of the details of the battle. Then they made a
calculation, allowing for the different meridians of Rome and the
Curzolari Isles, and they found that the Pope's vision announcing the
triumph of Lepanto took place exactly when D. John of Austria jumped,
sword in hand, from the quarter-deck to drive back the Turks who were
invading his galley, and when the "Sultana" was being attacked on the
side and at the stern by the Marqués de Santa Cruz and Marco Antonio
Colonna. Then they gave much importance to this event, and it afterwards
figured with all its proofs and documents in the proceedings of the
canonisation of Pius V, from which we have taken them.

Meanwhile it was another of God's mercies that the storm which put the
renegade Aluch Ali in safety, did not end by destroying the armada of
the League. Without thought of danger, the galleys were drifting in the
wide gulf, busy, as far as possible, repairing their damages, putting
manacles on the Turkish prisoners, and collecting and disposing of the
enormous booty provided by the 178 galleys taken from the enemy. No one
thought of danger or of anything but enjoying the triumph. However, the
Generalissimo was looking after everything, and he suddenly ordered that
the alarm gun should be fired on the "Real"; the flagships repeated the
same signal, and with haste, by force, and, if one can say so, by
driving them, D. John gathered together this scattered flock, and shut
them up, as in a fold, in the port of Petala. It was time; the storm was
let loose, violent and terrible, and during all that night it swept over
those seas with alarming force. But for the prudence of D. John, the
victory of Lepanto would inevitably have been reduced to the opposite of
the battle of Trafalgar, two centuries and a half later, which was a
glorious disaster; Lepanto would have been a disastrous glory.

Very early next morning D. John visited all the galleys, one by one, to
comfort and aid the wounded and to take count of the losses suffered.
The Christians lost in the battle of Lepanto fifteen galleys and nearly
8000 men; of these 2000 were Spaniards, 800 the Pope's men, and the rest
Venetians. Of the Turkish armada 30 galleys got away, 90 were sunk in
the gulf, and the remaining 178 were in the hands of the Christians,
with 117 big cannon and 250 of smaller size. At the same time more than
12,000 Christian captives whom the Turks had rowing in their galleys
regained their liberty. These poor creatures, wild with joy, offered
spontaneously, and with the greatest enthusiasm, to take the places of
the wounded and killed in the Christian fleet, both as soldiers and
sailors.

The division of the spoil D. John made in the following manner,
according to what was stipulated in the articles of the Holy League.

To the Pope, 27 galleys, 9 big cannon, 3 swivel guns, 42 small cannon,
and 200 slaves.

To the Catholic King, Ali Pasha's galley, the "Sultana," with 81 others,
78 great cannon, 12 swivel guns, 178 small cannon, and 3700 slaves.

To Venice 54 galleys, 38 cannon, 6 swivel guns, 84 small cannon, and
2500 slaves.

To D. John of Austria, as Generalissimo, fell the tenth part of
everything; but he only took 16 galleys, 700 slaves, and one of every
ten pieces of artillery. Among the prisoners he kept the tutor of the
sons of Ali Pasha, Alhamet, who was taken with them by Marco Antonio
Colonna on the galley of the King of Negroponto, where they had taken
refuge after their own ship had gone to the bottom.

From Santa Maura D. John sent the Field-Marshal D. Lope de Figueroa to
the King his brother; also his courier Angulo, carrying the standard of
the Prophet called "Sanjac," taken from Ali's galley. To the Pope he
sent the Conde de Priego; D. Fernando de Mendoza to the Emperor
Maximilian II of Austria; and D. Pedro Zapata de Calatayud to the
Signory of Venice, to offer them congratulations.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Lacoste_

  DISPATCH ANNOUNCING THE VICTORY OF LEPANTO
]

[Illustration:

  _Photo Lacoste_

  POSTSCRIPT ANNOUNCING VICTORY OF LEPANTO
  IN D. JOHN OF AUSTRIA'S WRITING
]

In the delirium of triumph D. John of Austria did not forget his "aunt,"
Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, and at the same time as he sent to the Pope,
King, Emperor, and Signory, he sent Jorge de Lima to her, taking her
that which he knew would please her most as a Christian, a Spaniard, and
a loving mother, the "piece of the True Cross," the Pope's present,
which he had worn at the battle of Lepanto, and a Turkish flag he
himself had taken from the galley of the Serasker.




                              CHAPTER XIII


D. John of Austria's kind heart was full of compassion for the
misfortunes of the sons of Ali, and he ordered that, without being
separated from their tutor Alhamet or their five servants, they were to
be brought on board the "Real," that he might have them under his own
eye to protect and comfort them, which was the reason of an episode
which shows the noble, great, and compassionate character of the hero of
Lepanto.

The eldest of the sons of Ali, Ahmed Bey, was eighteen, handsome,
strong, manly and arrogant. He accepted his misfortune with dumb and
gloomy despair, which never lifted, but rather became stronger, making
him churlish, hard and irritable, with no other wish or idea than to
escape, like a wild bird shut up in a cage. The younger one, Mahomet
Bey, was, on the other hand, a child of thirteen, affectionate and
demonstrative, and without understanding the extent of his misfortunes,
his innocent eyes sought everywhere love and protection from anyone, and
finding both in D. John, he clung to him tenderly. This humbled the
pride of his brother, and seeing him one day playing on deck with D.
John's monkey, he tore the little animal violently from him, saying in
Turkish laconic words which may be translated, "The great infidel killed
our father."

The kindness of D. John and his great tact at last overcame the boy's
animosity and fierceness, and then desperation changed to profound
sadness, which seemed to undermine him and consume him, without any
illness. D. John was very much disturbed at the fate of these poor
children, and to give hope and pleasure, on arriving at Corfu, he at
once liberated their tutor Alhamet and sent him to Constantinople, to
give news of them to their family, and to say how impossible it was then
to give them their freedom, but that it was his wish and intention to
give it them later. The two orphans formed one prize of war, of which D.
John's share was only the tenth part, according to the articles of the
League, the remainder in equal parts belonged to the Pope, the King of
Spain, and the Signory of Venice.

D. John then begged from the three Powers that the two boys should be
set at liberty without loss of time, offering to give in exchange
anything that they should demand. He, however, judged it prudent to send
the brothers to Rome, with all their servants, to place them under the
protection of the Holy Father. The orphans did not like leaving D. John,
and so much did this absence aggravate the sadness and consumption which
was undermining Ahmet Bey, the eldest of the brothers, that he died in
Naples three days after their arrival, begging D. John, at his last
hour, not to forget his generous intentions of setting his innocent
brother at liberty, who, broken-hearted and afflicted, went on to Rome,
where he was placed, by order of the Pope, in the castle of St. Angelo,
with all the care and attention that his age, rank and misfortunes
demanded. D. John then, on his part, took the same steps on behalf of
Mahomet Bey as before for the two brothers, and wrote to Philip II and
the Doge Mucenigo, urgently and effectually, as the following noble
letter, written to the Spanish Ambassador in Rome, D. Juan de Zúñiga,
shows, the original of which is in the collection of autographs
belonging to the Conde de Valencia de San Juan:

    "Illustrious Sir. Several times I remember having written to
    Y.E. of the great affection that I have for the sons of the
    Pasha since the first day when they were taken captive in
    battle, and they appear to me to be noble lads with very good
    inclinations, and taking into consideration their misery, which
    they incurred through no fault of theirs, as they were neither
    of an age or power to do us any real harm. This same wish has
    lasted, and still lasts, the more, when I at times reflect that
    it is not the act of noble souls to ill-treat the enemy after he
    is vanquished, and according to this my opinion, during the time
    that these boys and the other prisoners of rank were under my
    power and orders I desired that they should be well treated and
    looked after, especially the said boys. Having sent them from
    here to the city, and one of them dying in Naples, and desiring
    extremely that the younger, who is here in prison, should be
    given his liberty, the more, when I remember having several
    times told you my intention of doing so, and to this end, wrote
    to the King, my Lord, begging that it might be his pleasure to
    give me the favour of the half of the boy, which he held by the
    articles of the League, to which I await an answer. At present
    it has occurred to me that it would be well in this vacant
    see[13] to beg from the College of Cardinals, the part which
    falls to this Holy See, as regards the Venetian's other two
    parts I shall try to have them by the means which seem to me
    best. Before engaging in this affair I wished to communicate
    with Y.E. and to ask you, with much earnestness, to tell me your
    opinion, and to do all you can that these captives should be
    well treated, as I said above, that one should show fierceness
    and bravery to one's enemies until one has conquered them, and
    after they are conquered, gentleness and pity, and to advise me
    on the first occasion that offers about this.

    "Our Lord keep the Illustrious person of Y.E. as I wish.

    "From Messina, the 7th of May, 1572."

Footnote 13:

  Pius V having just died.

[Illustration:

  PHILIP II AND HIS SON DON FERNANDO

  _Titian. In Prado Gallery, Madrid_
]

At the end of this letter is the following postscript in D. John's own
hand:

    "I desire that this boy should be given me much more than I can
    say, as he will do so little harm, and I am truly fond of him,
    and almost under an obligation, and thus, as I have said, I
    desire to have my wish gratified, and for this I truly want your
    help, whom I beg that if it now appears to you to be the time
    and occasion, to do me this favour, to grant it, and to see that
    in every case and time the rest of those in the company of the
    said boy should be well treated, as pity towards such is
    certainly, in my opinion, the sign of a good heart, and,
    moreover, I wish that they should know that I am watching over
    their interests, and all this I confide to you, Don Juan.

                           "At your service,

                                                              "D. JOHN."

The Pope, the King, and the Doge of Venice readily agreed to what D.
John asked, and left him exclusive master of the poor captive child. The
Generalissimo sent to set him at liberty with all his servants; but
beforehand, and while D. John was at Naples, there arrived in the port a
beautiful Turkish galley, with a safe conduct of embassy, sent by Fatima
Cadem, a daughter of Ali Pasha, and the only remaining relation left to
the orphan. Alhamet came in this galley, the tutor of the two brothers,
bringing a letter and a rich present from Fatima for D. John of Austria.
The following is the translation of her letter, given by Vander Hammen:

    "Great Lord: After kissing the earth Y.H. treads, that which
    this poor and miserable orphan wishes to make known to Y.H., Her
    Lord, is to tell you how grateful I am for the favour you have
    done to all of us, not only in giving liberty to Alhamet, our
    servant, but by sending him to give us news, that after the
    death of my father and the destruction of the Armada, my poor
    orphan brothers remained alive and in the power of Y.H., for
    which I pray to God to give Y.H. many years of life. What
    remains to us, My Lord, to me and all of us, is to beg Y.H. to
    do us the favour and charity by the Soul of Jesus Christ, by the
    life of Y. Royal H., by the head of your mother, by the soul of
    the Emperor, your father, by the life of the Majesty of the
    King, your brother, to give liberty to these poor orphans. They
    have no mother, their father died at Y.H.'s hand. They are under
    your sole protection. But if you are the courteous gentleman
    people say, so pious and generous a prince, pity the tears I
    shed for hours, and the affliction in which my brothers find
    themselves, and concede me this mercy. Of the things I have been
    able to get here, I send Y.H. this present, which I beg you will
    be willing to receive. I well know that it is not worthy of
    Y.H.'s greatness, which deserves greater things, but my
    resources are small. Do not look at the smallness of the
    service, but, like a great lord, accept the good-will with which
    it is made. Again, My Lord, I beg Y.H. by the Soul of Jesus
    Christ to do me the charity of giving liberty to my brothers, as
    in doing this good, even to enemies, you will gain a renown for
    liberality and piety; and, thinking of their tears, you were
    pleased to send Alhamet, to say that they were alive and of the
    good treatment Y.H. gave them (which all this Court thinks very
    noble and does nothing but praise the virtue and greatness of
    Y.H.), for you have ended in gaining this title from everyone,
    there remains nothing but that Y.H. should grant this mercy, of
    giving them liberty.

    "Your slave, the poor sister of the sons of Ali Pasha, kisses
    the feet of Y.H.

                                                         "FATIMA CADEM."

D. John received this letter, wrapped in a cloth of brocade, from the
hands of Alhamet, and the eight Turkish slaves who came with him then
brought in the magnificent present. It consisted of four garments of
sable, two of lynx, one of ermine, another of lynx with crimson satin,
which had belonged to the King of Persia, with a trimming, half a yard
wide, of brocade, each piece seven ells long; two boxes of very fine
Levantine porcelain, a box of handkerchiefs and towels embroidered with
gold, silver and silk in the Turkish fashion; a cover of cut-out silk
embroidered in relief with gold; another cover of quilted brocade; a
quantity of table-covers of leather; perfumed leather tapestry; a
damascene scimitar which had belonged to the Grand Turk, set with gold
and adorned with fine turquoises; five gilt bows with 500 arrows, which
had belonged to the Grand Turk, much adorned with gold and enamel, and
the quivers chased and perfumed; a quantity of all sorts of feathers; a
little box of fine musk; some turban pieces of fine linen; six big
carpets; six felt covers; a bow and quiver all of fine gold, enamelled
in blue, which had belonged to Soliman; a quantity of water-bottles and
flasks of perfumed leather; four flasks of fine mastic of Chios;
twenty-four damascened knives, worked in gold, silver and rubies.

D. John of Austria examined all these riches minutely, with many
expressions of courtesy and thanks; but then he made the slaves pack
them up again as they had come, and ordered Alhamet to take them himself
to Rome and make them over to the child captive, Mahomet Bey, to do as
he liked with them. The son of Ali arrived at Naples at the end of May,
and a few days afterwards embarked for Constantinople, with all his
servants and some other prisoners whom D. John had redeemed to do him
honour. The child took back this answer to his sister Fatima from the
Generalissimo:

    "Noble and virtuous Lady: From the first hour that Ahmet Bey and
    Mahomet Bey, your brothers, were brought to my galley, after
    having gained the battle over the Turkish Armada, knowing their
    nobility of mind and good morals, and considering the misery of
    human weakness, and how the state of man is subject to change,
    added to which that these noble youths came more for the
    pleasure and company of their father, than to do us harm, it was
    in my mind, not only to order that they should be treated as
    noblemen, but to give them liberty, when it seemed to me the
    time and place. This intention grew when I received your letter,
    so full of affliction and fraternal affection, and such
    demonstrations of desiring the freedom of your brothers, and
    when I thought I could send them both, to my very great sorrow,
    came to Ahmet Bey the end of his labours, which is death. I now
    send Mahomet Bey, free, and all the other prisoners he asked
    for, as I would have sent the deceased, if he were alive; and be
    certain, Lady, that it has been a special annoyance not to be
    able to satisfy you or gratify part of what you ask, because I
    hold in much esteem the fame of your virtuous nobility. The
    present you sent I did not accept, and I have given it to
    Mahomet Bey, not that I do not appreciate it as coming from your
    hand, but because the greatness of my ancestors was not
    accustomed to receive gifts from those who wanted favours, but
    to grant them; and for this reason receive your brother from my
    hand, and those I send with him; be certain, that if in another
    battle I should take any of his kinsmen, with the same
    liberality I will give them their liberty, and would procure
    them all pleasure and contentment.

    "From Naples, 13th of May, 1573. At your service,

                                                               D. JOHN."




                                BOOK IV

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                               CHAPTER I


The downfall of the Ottoman Empire began at Lepanto and its ruin
followed. It is, however, certain that the immediate benefits of this
triumph did not correspond either to the splendour of its glory or to
the heroism of those who gained it.

The Generals of the League were in a great hurry to separate; old
Veniero was anxious to find himself in Venice to have the wound he had
gained in the battle cared for; Colonna wished to be back in Rome to
enjoy the merited honours of the triumph, and D. John of Austria, shut
up in Messina by the definite orders of his brother Philip II, who had
instructed him to retire there and not to move, or do anything without
fresh orders from him, was consumed with impatience at seeing the
opportunity of plucking the fruits of the battle of Lepanto slip away,
and, as a natural consequence, the fulfilment of the promise made by the
Pope at the investiture, of granting him the first kingdom gained from
the Turks.

A mysterious event, then very secret, but afterwards known by everyone,
came to spur on in D. John his desire to continue the campaign according
to the treaty of the League, and according to the continual demands of
Pius V, the only one who raised his voice, without worldly interests, in
absolute and saintly independence. D. John had entered Messina on All
Saints' day at the head of the Venetian fleet, towing the innumerable
captive galleys, with their standards lowered, their flags dragging
through the water, their cannon and arms crossed, forming trophies of
war. Nothing seemed enough in Messina with which to feast and welcome
the hero of Lepanto; the city, Archbishop and clergy received him under
a pall, and there on the mole they gave him the munificent present of
30,000 golden crowns, which D. John divided between the hospitals and
the wounded soldiers of the fleet. In his honour they gave the name of
Austria to the magnificent doorway which they had constructed on the
mole to receive him, and also to the street which ran from it. In the
most prominent site of Messina, in front of the palace and in the centre
of the square of Our Lady del Piller they erected, at that time, a
colossal statue, the work of the renowned sculptor and architect Andres
Calamech. This was (and is, for it still stands in the same place) of
gilded bronze; the right hand holds the triple baton of the
Generalissimo of the League, and it is placed on a very high column also
of bronze, on the pedestal of which are sculptured Latin verses and
allegories alluding to the short but glorious life of D. John of
Austria.

While the feastings and rejoicings which lasted many days were still
going on, there glided one night, among the many boats in the harbour, a
Greek galley, of the kind which at that time brought the merchandise of
the East to Italy. It was there several days, without attracting
anyone's attention, moored to the mole, unloading its cargo under the
direction of the Captain, a portly Albanian, who was acquainted with the
principal merchants of Messina. But one night, after the curfew had
sounded, three men secretly disembarked from the Greek galley, and,
guided by the Captain himself, went through the deserted streets,
shrouded in ample cloaks, with hoods that hid their faces, two of whom
seemed to regulate their firm steps by those of the third man, who went
slowly and with fatigue. They gained the square del Piller, where was
the statue of D. John; the great mole of the old castle stretched in
front, constructed in the time of Arcadio and renovated lately by D.
Garcia de Toledo, and towards it the hooded men went, stopping at a
little door, which opened in the side looking towards the old arsenal.
They were, no doubt, expected, as at the sound of their steps the door
opened, and D. John of Austria's secretary appeared in person, lantern
in hand. Soto guided them, without a word, through dark and winding
passages to a distant room, luxuriously furnished, in which he left them
by themselves: the three mysterious visitors then took off their cloaks,
and appeared in rich Albanian dresses, embroidered with gold and silver,
with jewels of precious stones. Two of them were strong men in the prime
of life, the third one was very old and bent, with a long white beard:
the captain had remained respectfully behind at the entrance. D. John of
Austria appeared at once, followed by Juan de Soto, and the three
Albanians threw themselves at his feet, with marks of the greatest
respect: the old man was unable to do this as quickly as he wished, and
D. John was in time to prevent him.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Brogi_

  STATUE OF D. JOHN OF AUSTRIA

  _By Calamech at Messina_
]

The captain acted as interpreter when they presented their credentials
and said who they were and where they came from. They were ambassadors
from Albania and Morea and were come to offer D. John of Austria the
crown of those kingdoms oppressed by the Turk, and to offer him their
allegiance at once in the name of the Albanian Christians. The old man
lifted up his voice and talked very quietly and with courtly ease,
laying great stress on the points which might decide D. John to accept
the offer, and insisting over and over again that it was necessary to
take advantage of the panic and despair that the terrible defeat of
Lepanto had produced in Constantinople and throughout the Ottoman
Empire.

D. John was not in the least disturbed by the unexpected proposal which
had come so suddenly to realise the brilliant dreams of his school-days.
To conquer a kingdom for Christ! Was not the dream of his youthful
imagination intensified by the reading of romances at Alcalá, being
realized? and the kingdom calling to him, opening its doors, and holding
out its arms and offering sceptre and crown in exchange for the
Christian faith in Albania and Morea being safeguarded by the conquering
sword of Lepanto.

The temptation was great to a youth of twenty-four, greedy of glory and
enthusiastic for his faith, spoiled by fortune and protected by the
great power that the Court of Rome then was; but the knightly ambition
of D. John, great and active as it was from his lineage and noble
qualities, was always subordinate to the obedience and loyalty that he
owed to Philip II as King and brother: so, without hesitating for a
moment, he answered the ambassadors, thanking them and making much of
the honour they were doing him, but frankly confessing _that he could
settle nothing which was not the will of the King his Lord and brother,
who was the master of his person and all his actions_. That he would
communicate with him _to gain his consent, and that time would show what
best to do, and Our Lord would dispose as was best, as he_ (D. John)
_placed the business in His hands_.

The ambassadors retired in good heart, much pleased with D. John, who at
once sent a courier to Philip II telling him of the circumstance. He did
not have to wait long for the answer: D. Philip neither accepted or
refused the offer, which _came at a bad time_, he said, as his
acceptance might displease the Venetians: however, he advised D. John to
_keep up the hopes of the ambassadors, as the opportunity might come for
him to gain his desires_: and he reiterated his orders "That D. John was
not to stir from Messina."

Vander Hammen comments on this answer from the King and says, "D. Philip
meant to fan his brother's hopes, so that, by them, he should obtain
greater things from his service; but never to let him be King." And a
celebrated modern historian, sometimes unjust to Philip, adds, "What was
it that made Philip II act in this way, when previously he had shown his
desire that D. John should hasten as quickly as possible on the
enterprise, to gain all the fruits to be expected from a first victory?
Was it only the difficulties that France was making about the war in
Flanders? Or was it fear that his brother should set too much sail, and
obtain one of the sovereignties, with which his friends and even the
Pontiff himself seemed to kindle his youthful ambition?" To us it seems
certain that Philip II did not wish D. John to rise above the sphere in
which Philip had placed him. Philip had told his ministers in Italy to
honour and serve the Lord D. John, but neither by word nor in writing to
call him "Highness," that "Excellency" was the most they should call
him, and Philip ordered them not to say that they had received this
order from him. The ambassadors of Germany, France and England received
the same instructions. And if he showed himself so jealous of the title
of "Highness" being given to his brother, it is evident that he would do
his utmost to prevent him being decorated with that of "Majesty."

But in our opinion it is not necessary to descend to such a base passion
as envy to explain Philip II's conduct on this occasion. It was enough,
and more than enough, that his brother's good or bad plans, lawful or
unlawful ambitions, should hinder the progress of his complicated
policy, for Philip II to bring the plans to naught and smother the
ambitions without pity. If he had any jealousy of D. John at that time,
it was without doubt owing to what the sly traitor Antonio Pérez was
beginning cleverly to insinuate. He did not yet dare to attack the noble
Prince openly, and confined his shots to the secretary Juan de Soto,
accusing him of inflating D. John's vanity by his flattery and advising
Philip to remove him from his brother's side.

On the 1st of May, 1572, Pius V died, and was succeeded in the
Pontificate by Gregory XIII,[14] who no sooner sat in the Chair of St.
Peter, than he began to stir up the League, and stimulate D. John, with
what he called "Briefs of Fire," that he should take the fleet to sea
and pursue his victories. Such were the confidence and estimation in
which his person was held, that he publicly extolled him in the
Consistory, calling him a Scipio for valour, a Pompey for charm, an
Augustus for fortune; a new Moses, a new Gideon, a new Samson, a new
Saul, and a new David without homicide or envy or the failings noted in
the others. What was written privately to D. John was said and repeated
three times publicly: _that before he died, it was hoped, in God, to
give him a king's crown_.

Footnote 14:

  Reformer of the Calendar (Translator).

And these three opposite influences embittered and shortened the
remainder of the life of D. John of Austria; the determination of the
Pontiff to give him a crown excited his always loyal, frank and noble
ambition; D. Philip's systematic policy of opposing and defeating these
plans, and the unbridled envy of Antonio Pérez, poisoning with his
calumnies and falsehoods the suspicious nature of the Monarch and
succeeding at last in making him detest his brother.




                               CHAPTER II


By one of its articles the Holy League insists that every year in the
month of March, or in April at the latest, the squadrons of the three
Powers should set out to sea, with an army at least equal to the one of
1571. But when Pius V died on the 1st of May, 1572, the Powers had not
been able to agree about this second campaign, in spite of the
superhuman efforts of the saintly old man. At last, in July, his
successor, Gregory XIII, managed to get the matter settled, and in July,
on the 6th, D. John of Austria left the port of Messina with Marco
Antonio Colonna, to join the Venetian fleet which was cruising in the
Levant at Corfu. Jacobo Foscarini commanded instead of old Sebastian
Veniero, against whom D. John had made grave complaints before the
Venetian Senate. The Duque de Sesa was D. John's lieutenant in the place
of the Knight Commander D. Luis de Requesens who had been appointed
Governor of Milan by Philip II. These were the only changes in the
fleet.

"This expedition," says an historian, "was undertaken with inexcusable
delay, continued with slowness, and failed through quarrels. Nobody
could have believed in October, 1571, that the victors of Lepanto could
have returned thus in 1572." They did return, without having engaged in
any definite battle with the Turk, and without other loot than the
magnificent galley belonging to Barbarossa's grandson, taken by the
Marqués de Santa Cruz and brought back to Naples, to be rechristened "La
Presa." Then the expedition was considered ended, and the Venetians went
to winter in Corfu, the Pontifical fleet at Rome, and D. John of Austria
with his squadron to Messina and from there to Naples, where by
ill-fortune Philip II had ordered him to spend the winter.

It was an unfortunate circumstance, for what Doña Magdalena de Ulloa
with her maternal foresight had foretold, when she sent D. John to the
Granada war, came to pass: "Indolent wealth will be always prejudicial
to his youth, and it is only by the labours and responsibilities of war
that he will be able to balance the youthful ardour of his nature." D.
John found himself unoccupied, because, while the fleet wintered, the
duties of his command did not satisfy his longing for activity; he was
wounded in his pride, that his advice about the organisation and
commencement of this campaign had not been listened to, the scanty
results of which were now deplored by all, when it was too late, proving
the Generalissimo to have been right. Something, therefore, was
necessary to distract him and fill up his time, and this he found in
that delightful country, under that matchless sky, in that corrupt
Naples of the sixteenth century, as dangerous then in its treacherous
delights as it is to-day.

Naples was at that time one of the most beautiful cities in Italy or in
Europe; the famous Viceroy D. Pedro de Toledo had enlarged and
beautified it, throwing down the old walls, and constructing magnificent
palaces, monasteries and churches in the two miles which this
improvement added to the town. He also caused streets and squares to be
paved, and filled with trees and fountains, and made the celebrated road
more than half a league long, full of sumptuous palaces, which he named
the street of the Holy Spirit, and which to-day is called the street of
Toledo in his honour. Naples had then more than 300,000 inhabitants, and
was the centre to which all the aristocracy of the Kingdom flocked.

In D. John's day, 40 Princes lived there, 25 Dukes, 36 Marquises, 54
Counts, 488 Barons, and numberless gentlemen, not so rich in money as in
titles, and sometimes absolutely poor, but not the less proud of their
nobility on account of this, and as disdainful as the rest, with no
other occupations than riding, games with arms, and to "ruar," that is
to saunter about the streets, paying compliments to the ladies, and
lazily gossiping in the thousand comfortable seats which it was the
custom of the city to provide in the squares and streets.

So, what we call good society was very numerous at Naples, and in it
could be noted, in certain elevated circles, as to-day, that fatal
anxiety for enjoyment and amusement of every possible kind, as if life
had no other aim or object. That lazy nobility, strange medley of the
virtues and vices of the time, strongly tinged with paganism, a relic of
the Renaissance, flighty and chivalrous, cultured and wild, devout and
corrupt, welcomed the hero of Lepanto as a demi-god, whose human charms,
which were many and great, were enhanced by the divine rays of Genius
and Glory. The men, overcome with admiration, slavishly imitated him,
the women, in love with his winning presence, vied with each other for
his glances, and solicited his favours as supernatural honours, and the
people idle too, and captivated with so much grace and splendour,
exaggerated his deeds and triumphs, followed him, and enthusiastically
applauded his skill and undoubted bravery in the cane jousts, and games
of "pelota," in masquerades, tournaments and bull-fights.

In the diary of D. John's confessor, Fr. Miguel Servia, who had followed
him to Naples, we notice a circumstance which will make those smile
sadly who know the frailty of the human heart. The more D. John was
engulfed in the pleasures of Naples, the more the regularity and the
frequency with which the good Franciscan notes this simple phrase in his
diary diminishes, "To-day his Highness confessed."

Submerged in these pleasures and the continual amusements of Naples,
there happened to D. John what always happens to the unwary, passionate
youth, that he went further than he intended.

There was outside assistance for this first false step of D. John's in
Naples, which astonishes to-day more than it did then. This is what
happened. In the stable-yard of the Viceroy's palace, who was then the
Cardinal de Granvelle, there was a bull-fight every Sunday. The noble
families were invited in turns, as the place was too small for them all
to be bidden at one time; and the last Sunday in October, a radiant day
of a Neapolitan autumn, it fell to the lot of a certain gentleman of
Sorrento named Antonio Falangola, who lived in Naples with his wife
Lucrecia Brancia and his daughter Diana, said to be the handsomest woman
in Naples: "La piu bella donna di Napoli," says the Knight Viani.
Antonio Falangola was poor for his position, swaggering and not at all
scrupulous: Lucrecia sly and hypocritical, and both intending to profit
by the beauty of their daughter, who for her part was a great flirt.

They showed themselves everywhere therefore, displaying much luxury and
ostentation, leaving hidden at home the misery and want due to their
poverty. They arrived that Sunday at the bull-fight in a coach, the
ladies finely dressed, and accompanied by duennas and pages, and settled
themselves in the seats covered with damask and tapestry, opposite the
place reserved for D. John of Austria.

He was not there at the moment, as he was going to spear the bull in the
Spanish fashion, and waited in the little yard until it was his turn to
go into the arena. D. John speared his bull successfully, leaving the
neck covered with "banderillas" of all colours, which streamed on each
side of the bull's head; two gentlemen on horseback gave him the spear,
and they in their turn took them from servants wearing the Granvelle
livery. Then they gave him a big dart of ash with its wide iron sharp
and clean; at the first thrust he killed the wild animal, with a lunge
in the nape of the neck which made it fall to the ground, pierced with
the weapon, but the horse had no blinkers, so that the bull frightened
it, and it gave a false start, allowing the bull to wound it in one of
its shoulders, thus spoiling the brilliance of the feat.

D. John returned to his place on the seats, surrounded by a crowd of
gentlemen who with much adulation applauded his skill and intrepidity,
and Cardinal Granvelle also came to congratulate him: showing him Diana
Falangola from afar on the seats opposite, as something wonderful, and
D. John, who did not know her, was amazed.

It was then the custom for ladies to throw from the seats, at the bull,
what were called "garrochas," which were small darts with sharp points,
very like modern "banderillas." These "garrochas" were smartly adorned
with flowers, ribbons and feathers; the ladies threw them at the bull
with extraordinary skill, and it was very much admired gallantry for the
youth of that day to draw them out of the beast with brave daring and
return them to the ladies, without a stain or perceptible harm done to
the flowers and ribbons or feathers.

D. John took one of these little "garrochas," very smart with its white
and yellow ribbons, which were the colours of Diana Falangola, and sent
it to her by a little page with a polite message, begging her to throw
it, for love of him, at the first bull which appeared. Diana received
the "garrocha" with transports of gratitude, and it was worth seeing the
obeisance of the father, the bows of the mother, and the attitude of the
daughter, who seemed not to wish to throw the "garrocha" for fear of
losing or destroying it, but to prefer to keep it like a beautiful toy
as a remembrance of the Prince.

D. John sent a second message saying she must throw it: and that he gave
her his word to return it to her unhurt. On this, the bull, a very
fierce one, black as night, called Caifas, entered the ring; and as luck
would have it, after some turns came, snorting, to a standstill in front
of the seat of Diana Falangola, fierce and holding his head high,
casting wild eyes round the arena, as if seeking enemies to fight. D.
John made repeated signs to Diana from his place, until the maiden stood
up, threw and stuck with sure aim and great strength the "garrocha" in
the back of the bull. The ring broke into applause which stopped at
once: all saw D. John jump bravely alone into the arena, a naked sword
in one hand, a scarlet cloak in the other. All held their breath and the
silence was absolute; the bull was penned at one end bellowing and
scraping the ground as if anxious to attack; D. John went straight up to
him and at twenty steps called him, stamping on the ground. The bull
dashed forward with violence, and D. John, throwing the cloak to the
ground to the left, tore the "garrocha" out on the right, at the same
time giving such a strong cut on the muzzle, that the animal withdrew
from the man, and went and savagely laid hold of the red cloth with
roars of pain and in clouds of dust. Meanwhile D. John quietly and
slowly walked to Diana Falangola's seat, and cap in hand, on one knee,
smilingly presented the "garrocha" to her, without a speck of blood to
spoil it, or a stain to mar its feathers and ribbons.

Antonio Falangola, touched and beside himself with joy, craved
permission to wait with his wife and daughter on D. John the next day to
show his gratitude. The day after D. John returned the visit, making
rich gifts to Lucrecia and Diana, and soon afterwards Antonio Falangola
set out for Puzzoli, of which he had been appointed Governor by
Granvelle, leaving his wife and daughter at Naples: "To appear to know
nothing about his shame," writes the spiteful author of the manuscript,
"Fatti occorsi nella città di Napoli," in the national archives of that
famous city.




                              CHAPTER III


This lapse of D. John did not last long; for in the middle of December
Fr. Miguel Servia writes thus in his diary:

    "At this time Christmas approached, and His Highness retired the
    Monday before to a monastery outside Naples, of Norbertinian
    monks, called Pie de Grutta, and the day before the Vigil he
    sent a gentleman to the Duque (de Sesa) to order him to give
    notice that he was going to confession. The next day, which was
    the Vigil, we went, Fr. Fee and I. He received us very
    graciously, and ordered a room to be given us, as he would not
    confess until night; and when it was already the hour of matins
    he called us, and I confessed His Highness and the steward, and
    Father Fray Fee the valet and many other gentlemen; and His
    Highness communicated at the first sung Mass, and afterwards all
    the gentlemen who had confessed. We, on Christmas Day, after
    having dined, returned to our convent."

D. John had thought, no doubt, to ensure better the fruits of his
penitence, to go straight from the monastery of Pie de Grutta to the
Abruzzi, without entering Naples, to visit at Aquila, and make the
acquaintance of his sister Donna Margaret of Austria, the celebrated
Governess of the Low Countries and mother of Alexander Farnese. But
letters reached him in this retreat of piety from Philip II which were
much to his taste, and which obliged him to return to Naples and to put
off his visit. These letters made it clear that King Philip had decided
to bring about a third campaign against the Turks, according to the
injunctions of the League, for March of next year, 1573, and with this
end in view he ordered D. John not only to prepare the galleys, which
were wintering in Naples, for this date, but also to make their numbers
up to 300, and the fighting men to 60,000.

"And now that the affairs of the League are understood and talked about
in Rome," wrote D. John to his sister, explaining why he was prevented
from paying the visit he had announced, "I must attend to them here, to
inform the ministers deputed to do this business about things which
require questions and answers. H.M. has very really taken up the
continuation of the League, and has, therefore, given orders, and
especially to me, to attend to the reinforcement of his fleet. So with
this idea all the suitable provisions are being made. I hope to God that
all may conduce to damage the enemy, who, one hears, are arming
themselves in a great hurry, intending to set out to meet us, but,
perchance, they will happen on us before they imagine."

This was enough to awake in D. John the love which dominated all other
affections, and from that moment he thought of nothing but of obeying
his brother's orders, entirely forgetting Diana Falangola, until he took
a short holiday in the middle of February, and left Naples with a small
following, only thirty gentlemen, and set out for Aquila, the usual
residence of Donna Margarita of Austria. This lady was the eldest child
of the Emperor Charles V, born when he was twenty-two, four years before
his marriage; her mother was Margarita Vander Gheynst, a beautiful
Fleming, orphan of some wealthy carpet-weavers. Her father acknowledged
her a long time after her birth, and confided her to his sister, the
widowed Queen of Hungary, who was then Governess of the Low Countries.
The youthful Margarita was educated by her aunt, whose manly virtues and
hasty temper she always imitated, perhaps by natural impulse. They
married her when she was twelve years old to Alexander de Medicis, Duke
of Florence, who was assassinated during the first year of their
marriage; she then wedded Octavio Farnese, Duke of Parma and Piacenza,
by whom she was mother of the great Alexander, afterwards such a famous
leader. Her capacity was great, her character strong and masculine, and
her piety solid, strengthened by S. Ignacio de Loyola, who for some time
in Rome confessed her with much greater frequency than was then usual.

When Philip II publicly acknowledged D. John as his brother Donna
Margarita hastened to send an affectionate letter by Francesco de
Berminicourt, Lord of Thieuloye, who was one of her "maîtres d'hôtel,"
declaring herself a loving sister. D. John had answered suitably, and
from that time an uninterrupted correspondence had passed between
brother and sister, more filial than fraternal on D. John's part, and
more maternal on the part of Donna Margarita, as she was twenty-five
years older. When D. John came to Italy for the first time in 1571 Donna
Margarita sent one of her principal gentlemen, Pietro Aldobrandini, to
Genoa to welcome him, offer him hospitality, and to say how great was
her desire to see and embrace him. D. John was no less anxious to see
this unknown sister, who had shown him so much affection, and on the
first opportunity, the one we speak of, he set out for Aquila, where
Donna Margarita lived, having given over the government of Flanders to
the Duque de Alba.

Donna Margarita was then fifty, and was so vigorous in her person and in
her way of moving about, that she appeared more like a man dressed up as
a woman, with her black cloth petticoat for winter, and of serge for
summer, and her simple coif with its band of pearls. "Nor was a little
beard wanting," adds P. Strada; "and down on the upper lip, which not
only gave her a manly appearance, but also one of much authority." Donna
Margarita received her brother with affectionate warmth, and during the
few days he was there diversions and rejoicings succeeded one another in
Aquila, especially hunts, of which she was never tired. She challenged
her brother to chase a stag on horseback; he accepted, and, as this sort
of hunting is enough to kill anyone, D. John did not have to use much
self-denial in letting himself be beaten, and so please the lady.

They had long talks alone, in which she gave him prudent counsels and
wise political instruction, drawn from her experience as Governess. In
one of these talks she asked D. John whether he had any children. He
answered, "No." But said she, "If you ever have any, give them to me."
He got rather uncomfortable, and answered, "Possibly soon I may accept
this offer." She said no more; but after D. John left many things
happened, and on the 18th of June of this same year he wrote the
following letter to his sister from Naples:

    "Lady, Y. Highness will laugh when you read what is contained in
    this letter, and although I blush, I feel like doing so too.
    Does Y. Highness remember, among other private things, asking me
    if I had any children, and ordering me to give them to you if I
    had? I answered that I would not take the favour you offered;
    but I said _it soon might be_ accepted. This soon, Lady, is
    almost now; as in a month's time I think that, bachelor as I am,
    I shall see myself an ashamed and blushing father, I say
    ashamed, for it is absurd for me to have children. Now Y.
    Highness must forgive, as you must be a mother to me and to him
    who is coming, which will be the first. And thus I truly beg you
    to do me the kindness of undertaking this new work and trouble,
    and that it should be with all possible secrecy and caution. But
    this and the rest which may seem right and proper to you I leave
    and desire to leave to Y. Highness, begging you not only to take
    charge of everything, but to advise me about this and all that
    you judge best: as it is certain to be, when the time comes to
    make over the baby to Y. Highness, which will be as soon as it
    can be taken to where you are without danger. Cardinal
    Granvelle, who, out of love for me and that all should be better
    and more secretly done, has taken charge of it until it can be
    made over to you, to whom the said Cardinal will write. Again I
    beg Y. Highness to agree to this, and that henceforward you will
    consider you are the mother of father and child. The real mother
    is one of the most highly born and well-known women here, and
    one of the most beautiful in all Italy. For all these reasons,
    especially that of her noble birth, it seems that you will
    better bear this upset. This is all, Lady. From Naples, July 18,
    1573. Your very true servant and brother kisses Y. High^n's
    hands. Don John of Austria."

This "directly" at last happened. On the 11th of September Diana
Falangola gave birth to a daughter, who was baptised by the name of
Juana. Cardinal Granvelle at once took charge of it, and gave it to the
care of a nurse, engaged beforehand. Two months later, the Cardinal
complied with the orders of D. John and Donna Margarita, and sent the
baby to Aquila, with its nurse and her husband, in charge of Francisco
Castano, of the Cardinal's household. Castano accompanied them as far as
the village of Rocca, near Sulmona, and there confided them to a trusty
person great secrecy that no one should guess the child's origin.[15]

Footnote 15:

  Margarita of Parma carefully educated her niece, and kept her until
  the death of D. John. When this happened she did all she could to
  influence Philip II to recognise the child; but all she could obtain
  from the King was an order that Doña Juana should enter the convent of
  St. Clara at Naples, with a nun of noble birth to look after her and
  four nuns to wait on her. For this he obtained a brief from the Pope,
  and was always careful to commend the person of Doña Juana to the
  Viceroys of Naples. This lady was very bright and intelligent: she
  spoke several languages and wrote books in Latin which she dedicated
  to the King and his son, afterwards Philip III. When he came to the
  throne, persuaded that she had no vocation, he tried to arrange a
  marriage for her and at last succeeded in 1603, wedding her to
  Francisco Branciforte, eldest son of the Prince of Butera. Philip III
  gave her a dower of 60,000 ducats and an income of 3000 for pin-money.
  Doña Juana died at Naples on February 7th, 1630, when she was
  fifty-six, leaving an only daughter called Margarita, after the
  Duchess of Parma. This Margarita Branciforte, D. John's only
  grandchild, married Federico Colonna, Duke de Patrano and Constable of
  Naples.

Historians wonder why D. John so flatly denied to his sister the
existence of his other daughter. What obliged D. John to keep up this
deception all his life was probably the promise of secrecy made to Doña
Magdalena, and his fear of scandal for the unhappy Doña Maria de
Mendoza.




                               CHAPTER IV


D. John returned from Aquila on the 3rd of March, according to the diary
of Fr. Miguel Servia, so much pleased with his sister that the next day
he wrote to Gian Andrea Doria:

    "Yesterday, after dinner, I returned from Aquila, from having
    visited and made the acquaintance of one of the bravest and most
    prudent women known; and although I love her as a sister and a
    friend, it is not affection which makes me say this, but because
    it is so, and much more so than the world says."

D. John was not equally pleased with the news in Naples. It was
whispered, without anyone knowing where the rumour sprang from, that the
Venetians were retiring from the Holy League, and making a shameful
peace with the Turk; and it was also said that this peace had been
negotiated by the Huguenot bishop Noailles, Ambassador of the French
King, Charles IX, at Constantinople. D. John did not give a thought to
this gossip, and went on actively arming the fleet, and it was almost
ready when he retired, for Holy Week, to a Carthusian convent. "Tuesday
in Holy Week, the 17th of March," says Fr. Miguel Servia in his diary,
"His Highness retired to the monastery of St. Martin, which is of
Carthusians, and Wednesday he sent for me and the other fellow-confessor
to go to the said monastery, and so we did. His Highness confessed the
night of Easter Eve, and communicated on the morning of Easter Day.
Father Fr. Fee confessed many gentlemen of his Highness's household. On
Easter Day His Highness and all his household went up to dine at the
castle of Sant' Elmo, where we took leave of His Highness and returned
to our convent. His Highness came down on the 3rd day of the festival
after dinner."

And directly D. John came down from the castle he knew for certain that
the rumours which had been going about Naples were as true as they were
disgraceful. The Venetians had made peace with the Turk, without telling
the Pope or Philip II, just at the moment when everything was preparing
for a third campaign, and the expedition was already beginning to be
settled. D. John was furious at such villainy. He went at once, followed
by the gentlemen of his household and a crowd of people crying out
against Venice, and ordered that the flag of the League, on which were
the arms of Venice, should be torn down, and the Royal Standard of
Castille hoisted in its place. The indignation of Gregory XIII was also
great. He refused to receive the ambassador, Nicholas de Porta, whom the
Venetians had sent to pacify him, and gave vent, in public Consistory,
to hard words, saying that the Venetians were little religious, and had
kept ill their word and faith and oath to the Apostolic See. Philip II,
however, although he was no less annoyed, received Antonio Tiepolo,
entrusted to give him the news, with impenetrable calm, contenting
himself with saying that if the Republic acted thus in its own interest,
he had acted for the good of Christendom and the same Republic, and that
God and the world would judge.

The Holy League once dissolved, there remained a problem to be solved, a
most important one for D. John, to which, however, he could give no
answer. What was to happen to the powerful fleet, so fully equipped at
the cost of so much labour and expense? Should it be disbanded without
honour or benefit to anyone? Or should it alone, without the help of the
Venetians, go to seek fresh advantages on the Turkish coast and fresh
glory for the arms of Spain? It was the theme of all the talk of Naples,
and great and small, wise and ignorant, gave their opinions, discussing
warmly, conquering kingdoms and annihilating Turks, with the reckless
daring of the vulgar of all times, who in one second settle the most
difficult questions of war and government. But these wild ideas were all
more or less harmless talk at that time, as happily then there were no
newspapers to pervert opinion in their interests and to belittle
legitimate authority.

The grave men of the Council were also divided, and three opinions
principally prevailed. Some, with the Duque de Sesa, wished to take the
fleet to sea to fight the Turk, wherever they might find him, as at
Lepanto. The Marqués de Santa Cruz thought that the fleet should go at
once against Algiers, because, once this kingdom conquered and free from
the yoke of Selim, Tunis and Tripoli would yield, and the Mediterranean
would be free of Turks. The third opinion, which was that of D. John,
preferred first to attack Tunis, as most easy and feasible, leading to
the results the Marqués de Santa Cruz proposed. D. John, on this,
received a secret message from the Pope Gregory XIII, telling him to
attack Tunis, and that he ratified the promise of St. Pius V to invest
D. John with the crown of that kingdom. The Pontiff much desired to
found a Christian empire in Africa, which could gradually extend its
limits and thus realise the policy of the great Cardinal Ximénez de
Cisneros, set out in the will of Isabel the Catholic. This was the most
opportune occasion, and, if they had profited by it, perhaps the
destinies of Africa would be different to-day. But no orders came from
the Court, and not knowing what to do, D. John sent his secretary Juan
de Soto to Madrid, which caused great comment in Naples. Fr. Miguel de
Servia says, "This same day (May 22) the secretary Juan de Soto left in
a galley for Spain, sent by His Highness. Nobody knows why. It has
caused great astonishment." D. John notified the departure of Juan de
Soto to his sister Donna Margarita in this way: "The reason of not
having written to Y.H. for some days has been that all, and especially
myself, have been in suspense, without anything settled, waiting (to
hear) from the Court, where I have sent the secretary Juan de Soto, to
give account, as one so well informed of things past and future, and to
learn what we are to do in the time and circumstances in which we find
ourselves."

Meanwhile Juan de Soto had been received in Madrid with concealed
suspicion on the part of Philip II, and with feigned want of confidence
by Antonio Pérez, who was slowly preparing the dark perfidy which was to
end in the mysterious assassination of Escovedo and the misfortune of D.
John of Austria. But to understand better the crafty plans of the
deceitful secretary, it will be necessary to make things plainer, and to
recall some past events to fix in the reader's mind the state of the
case at the time when the gloomy drama began to unfold itself.

For more than twenty years two parties had divided the Court of Philip
II, which disputed for his favour and intimacy. One was led by Ruy Gómez
de Silva, Prince of Évoli, who was for diplomacy, settlements and peace;
the head of the other party was the Duque de Alba, who, on his side, was
for frank declarations, extreme resolutions and war, as a last resource.
For reasons we have given before, D. John was attached to the first of
these parties, and Ruy Gómez and his followers placed great hopes in the
young Prince. At that time good Juan de Quiroga was D. John's secretary,
appointed by Philip, in agreement with Luis Quijada, when he arranged
his brother's first household. By reason of D. John's youth, this
appointment had no importance then; but Juan de Quiroga saw D. John grow
up and his great gifts develop. He became devoted to him, attracted by
his good temper and frank, loyal manners; and on the first opportunity,
which was the Moorish war, encouraged and decided D. John to ask for the
command of the campaign, certain that the eaglet had sufficient feathers
and strength, and only needed to beat the powerful wings of his genius
and take his lofty flight. Juan de Quiroga did this out of his
disinterested affection for D. John, and out of respect for Doña
Magdalena de Ulloa, whose opinions about him we already well know. The
Prince of Évoli, on his part, Antonio Pérez and all his gang, approved
the conduct of the secretary Quiroga, aiding him with their efforts and
enthusiastically applauding this first flight of D. John, which placed
him on the level of the greatest captains of the Kingdom, and was
already gaining envy for him.

Good Juan de Quiroga died at Granada before D. John set out on the
campaign, and Ruy Gómez and Antonio Pérez hastened to place a new
secretary at D. John's side, one of their creatures, who would guide him
according to the interests of their party. This new secretary was Juan
de Soto, a capable, active man, very skilful in business, and a great
friend of Ruy Gómez; but his judgment was at the same time independent,
and his generous heart scorned selfishness and injustice.

Soto served D. John in the Moorish campaign and in that of the
Mediterranean against the Turks, and was present at and studied and, so
to speak, saw the internal workings of the great glories and triumphs
which in so short a time made D. John the terror of the Moor and Turk,
the hero of Christendom, the man of Providence, the "John sent from
God," that the Pontiff, at all costs, wished to see settled on a throne.
Soto was as captivated by D. John's real merit as Quiroga had been. The
offer of Albania and Morea seemed to him the most natural thing in the
world, and the promise of Gregory XIII to give D. John the Kingdom of
Tunis the just payment of a debt, and the most sure and certain way of
planting the Empire of the Cross in Africa. But the fact was that the
offer of these crowns did not have the same effect on Philip II, Ruy
Gómez or Antonio Pérez. D. Philip was full of jealousy of D. John, not,
as some have alleged, because he envied D. John—he was much too great to
envy anyone—but because these plans frustrated his policy, and, above
all, threatened to take away from him that strong and brilliant
instrument with which he had accomplished such glorious enterprises, and
counted on accomplishing more in the future. He wished to keep his
brother all to himself, flying as high as he wished or could, but always
subject to Philip's will, and without other ideas of his own or those of
other people besides his brother's.

Ruy Gómez died on the 27th of July, 1573, when the drama began to
unfold, but Antonio Pérez remained heir to his favour and power, and
master of the King's ear, and chief of the party erstwhile led by the
Prince. His jealousy of D. John, for different reasons, was very unlike
Philip's. The secretary counted on the King never allowing his brother
to wear a crown. He had seen for a long time that D. John's brilliant
victories and applauded triumphs were separating him more and more from
the peaceful policy of his (Pérez's) party, and feared that,
disappointed, D. John would join the party of the Duque de Alba, more in
sympathy with his own warlike tastes, or create a following for himself,
which, given his personal popularity and the great help he could count
on in Rome, might well absorb and annihilate all other parties.

It was necessary, then, to provide against these contingencies; and the
bad conscience of Antonio Pérez devised means of being forewarned
against everything; to poison Philip's jealousy by painting D. John's
ambitious ideas first, with a tinge of independence and then of treason,
which would for ever discredit the hero of Lepanto in the mind of the
King. It was necessary, however, to be very cautious in daring anything
with Philip II. This care Antonio Pérez used, and it is, in our opinion,
the most convincing proof of his false talent, cunning cleverness and
wonderful audacity. He was very careful not to attack D. John of
Austria, and confined himself to whispering to Philip that Juan de Soto,
carried away by his great affection for D. John and his own interests,
was inflating D. John's imagination with plans which went far beyond the
ideas of Philip II. Antonio Pérez, consequently, thought that it was
imperative to remove so dangerous an adviser from the side of D. John,
and to put in his place a temperate, energetic man, who would know how
to calm these ambitious ideas. In this may be seen the first drop of
venom for poisoning Philip's mind against his brother. Antonio Pérez
made him out to be a bold, ambitious boy, who could only be relied on
while under the rule of an energetic and temperate tutor.

Such was the situation which Juan de Soto found at the Court, when sent
by D. John with a public mission to ask instructions from the King about
the way the fleet was to be employed, and a secret one to tell him about
the proposals of Gregory XIII, respecting Tunis, of which in Madrid they
had had some secret advices from the Ambassador in Rome, D. Juan de
Zúñiga. Philip II could therefore verify the plain truth of what his
brother's secretary said, who tranquillised him with respect to the
loyalty of the ambitions of both. But the warmth with which Juan de Soto
advocated the project of Gregory XIII, and the promptitude with which he
explained away the arguments Philip cunningly urged against it,
confirmed the stories of Antonio Pérez about stirring up D. John's
ambitions, and decided the King to act according to the advice of Pérez,
and to separate Soto from D. John. But knowing D. John to be very fond
of Soto, and not wishing to alarm or annoy him, nor having reason for
not making use of Soto's services elsewhere, D. Philip at once appointed
him a naval contractor, and sent him back to Naples, with the
instructions for which D. John begged, waiting to relieve him of the
duties of secretary, and to separate him from D. John, until the
temperate, energetic man Antonio Pérez talked of was found.

The orders for the fleet were precise. They were to attack Tunis, take
this kingdom from the Turks, and place on the throne Muley Hamet, son of
the former Moorish King Muley Hacem, under the protection and dependence
of Spain, and to see quietly if it would be well to dismantle the town
completely, throwing down the fortifications, a policy to which the King
inclined.




                               CHAPTER V


When in 1534 the Turkish pirate Barbarossa, by treason and treachery,
overcame the kingdom of Tunis, and made himself King of those Barbary
Moors, he dethroned the legitimate lord Muley Hacem, who wrote to the
Emperor Charles V from Arabia, where he had taken refuge, asking for
help against the Turk, and it was then that the Emperor undertook the
glorious expedition against Tunis, which formed one of the most
brilliant pages of his history. Muley Hacem was restored to his throne,
Barbarossa and the Turks expelled ignominiously from Tunis, and the fort
of Goletta, the key of the kingdom, remained in the power of Spain as a
guarantee against Turks and Berbers, who, whether they were friends or
adversaries, were equally barbarians and enemies of the name of
Christian.

This Muley Hacem had two sons, Muley Hamida and Muley Hamet; the elder
one, Hamida, was jealous because his father made a favourite of the
younger son, leaving him the crown, so he took up arms, chased him from
the throne and barbarously tore out his eyes. The second son, Muley
Hamet, fled in terror to Palermo, and placed himself under the
protection of the King of Spain, and Hamida, triumphant, refused to pay
the tribute arranged between his father and Charles V, and craved the
protection of Selim II, rendering him homage. This brought his
punishment, because Aluch Ali, who was then Viceroy of Algiers, invaded
the kingdom with his Turks in the name of Selim, and, on the pretext of
protecting it, subjected it with an iron hand to his tyranny of petty
king and the rapines of a renegade pirate. Such was the state of Tunis
when D. John of Austria received his brother's commands to conquer it
and place Muley Hamet, still a fugitive at Palermo, on the throne, under
the same conditions that the Emperor Charles V enforced when he had
reinstated the father, Muley Hacem.

Apart from other interests, this enterprise held for D. John the special
enchantment of being like the one his father had so gloriously achieved
thirty-nine years before. He knew all about it from having heard Luis
Quijada refer to it thousands of times, as he was one of the great
heroes of this campaign. D. John therefore desired to follow his father
step by step, and left Naples on the 1st of August, 1573, with the
greatest part of the fleet and the Italian and Spanish infantry, hoping
to collect the rest of the ships, people, victuals and equipment of war
in passing Messina, Palermo, Trapani and the island of Favignana. At
Messina he joined the Marqués de Santa Cruz with the remainder of the
infantry, and, while the galleys were being loaded, drilled the soldiers
with continual exercises and manœuvres, subjecting them to the most
severe discipline. On one of these occasions, the Royal Standard being
hoisted and D. John a witness of the affair from an elevation, a
gentleman of Florence dared to pull out his dagger and wound an Italian
captain. D. John ordered him to be decapitated, without anyone being
surprised at the order or thinking it unduly severe. This happened at
Messina on the 19th of August.

They also stopped at Palermo and Trapani, where they had a magnificent
welcome. "The Trapanians had made," says the confessor Servia in his
diary, "a pier for His Highness, which entered 100 feet into the sea. It
had three arches in front and 17 along it. On the centre arch towards
the sea were the Royal Arms, on the right those of His Highness, on the
left those of the town. The columns and arches were covered with blue,
yellow, green and red taffeta. On each column was a little red and
yellow taffeta flag. They presented to him a very nice grey horse
covered with black velvet with harness of gold." And further on he adds,
"On the 30th, after dinner, His Highness went to visit the Annunziata of
Trapani. It is a Carmelite convent, outside the city, of great sanctity,
and in the evening he confessed in the sacristy, where in other days his
father the Emperor Charles V had done so."

At last all the fleet joined at Marsala, eighteen miles from Trapani, in
a beautiful harbour which had been long stopped up, and which since that
time has been named of _Austria_, as it was D. John who had it opened
and put in order. There were 140 ships of great tonnage, 12 large boats,
25 frigates, 22 feluccas, among which were divided 20,000 infantry,
Spaniards, Italians and Germans, without counting numerous volunteers
and 750 pioneers, 400 light horse, good artillery, abundant ammunition,
sufficient machines and victuals, and many yoke of oxen to drag the
cannon. In the Sicilian galley with the Duque de Sesa was the Moorish
Prince Muley Hamet, destined to ascend the throne of Tunis.

On the 7th of October, anniversary of the battle of Lepanto, D. John
confessed and communicated in a Capuchin convent, in the outskirts of
Marsala, and at night left the port of Austria at the head of the whole
fleet, making for Africa. On the 8th at sundown they came in sight of
Goletta, and it was with great emotion that D. John saw from the castle
of his galley those white towers standing out on the grey mountains,
which it had cost his father so much blood to conquer. The soldiers
could be seen running joyfully about the fortifications, saluting the
Royal Standard, and they fired a big salute of artillery and arquebuses,
which re-echoed solemnly and lighted up with singular beauty the shades
of night which were slowly falling. Very early the next morning D. John
was the first to disembark with several gentlemen, among them Juan de
Soto, who was a navy contractor without ceasing to be secretary. They
had not even had time to reach the first outworks of Goletta, when they
spied coming from the direction of Tunis a group of Moors on horseback,
who hurried towards them brandishing bunches of oak leaves with white
streamers in sign of peace.

D. John made them enter a room that was close by in the front part of
the fortifications, and sat to receive them, surrounded by his
gentlemen. The Moors seemed half terrified and half curious, and did not
dare to pass the threshold without taking off their shoes, throwing
their arms on the ground, which were Moorish scimitars, short and wide,
daggers and a few lances forty-five palms long. Only three of them came
in, seemingly the chiefs, bare-footed, wearing long dark cloaks which
reached to their ankles, and with their shaven heads covered with
Moorish turbans. The rest, apparently poor people, with sheepskin coats
and  "haiques," sat cross-legged on the threshold, according to
their custom, heads bowed and eyes lowered, as if D. John's presence
dazzled them so that they did not dare to look at him.

Among them was a renegade Calabrian who acted as interpreter, and who
made known to D. John the state of Tunis, which was the object of their
coming. The mere advent of D. John had filled Turks and Moors with
consternation and terror; but when they heard the night before the news
of his arrival, and learnt from some Berber fishermen with what a strong
fleet he had come, the panic in Tunis came to a head: the 3000 Turks of
the garrison fled, after pillaging and sacking all they could from the
natives. They were followed by the 40,000 Moors of the militia of the
province, and the peaceful neighbours, without protection or soldiers to
defend and help them, fled, too, to Carvan, Biserta and to other
villages and mountains, carrying what they could with them, and hiding
what they could not take in wells, cisterns, caves and other places. The
old men, women and children only remained in Tunis, and as for the King,
Muley Hamida, deserted by everyone, alone and defenceless, he had
embarked for Goletta with his son, going out of the usual course, so as
to avoid encounters. He was willing to yield the kingdom to D. John, and
place himself under the protection of this Prince, who was extolled as
much for his heroic bravery as for his magnanimity and nobleness. The
triumph of D. John was great. He had gained other victories by the might
of arms, but this was gained by the prestige of his name.

[Illustration:

  D. JOHN OF AUSTRIA

  _From a print_
]

D. John did not lightly accept the words of the Moors, well knowing how
crafty and untruthful they could be. He took leave of them, however, in
a kindly manner, and ordered them to return to Tunis, and to say there
that he was coming at once at the head of his army, and that, with the
help of God, he would take it at once, whether or not it opened its
gates. He also commanded his gentlemen to take the Moors and give them
food and make much of them, so as to give them time to see the
formidable engines of war which were then being disembarked, and to take
an account of them back to Tunis.

The next day, the 10th of October, D. John selected 1500 old soldiers of
those who formed the garrison, and sent them on to Tunis, under the
command of the Marqués de Santa Cruz, to find out and confirm the truth
of what the Moors had said. Four hours later the rest of the army set
out, in orderly formation, and as equipped and ready as if they were to
meet an enemy at each step. The heat was stifling, in spite of its being
already October; the soil was sandy and shifting, and the soldiers
marched overcome by the weight of their heated armour and by the thirst
which became burning. To set an example, D. John, as his father Charles
V did in other days, went up and down the lines on horseback, in full
armour and carrying his baton as Captain-General. Fr. Miguel Servia, who
also took part in this expedition, says in his journal, "All the way His
Highness went on his horse, ordering people and forbidding them to
disband, showing himself first to the vanguard and then to the
rearguard, at times commanding the artillery to march, and ordering the
people to march in great order."

At last they reached the famous olive yards on the road to Tunis, where
the veterans of Charles V had done such brave deeds, and there D. John
ordered them to encamp round the wells, so that the soldiers were able
to slake the burning thirst which devoured them. In all the march they
had not seen a sign of the enemy, or of other human beings, except an
old goatherd, who fled towards the mountains; this confirmed the news
that the Turks and Moors had left the town.

Meanwhile the Marqués de Santa Cruz and his veterans had reached the
gates of Tunis and found them wide open. But still fearful of the
cunning and treachery of the Moors, they did not enter the town without
great precautions. The soldiers walked one by one, in two long rows,
close to the houses of the narrow lanes, arquebuses at their shoulders,
pointing at the doors and windows, which seemed absolutely deserted. In
many cases they saw signs of the recent sacking by the Turks, broken
doors and shutters, and the beautiful courtyards with their arches and
columns and marble cisterns in the centre, surrounded by orange trees
and pomegranates loaded with fruit ruined.

In this way they crossed the town, and began to mount the Alcazaba,
which was on a height to the west. It was spacious, and had very strong
walls, and in one block of them, against a closed door, were to be seen
about twenty Moors surrounding a fat old man, who was making signs with
a piece of white linen, whom they guessed to be the Alcaide. The Marqués
went forward on horseback, with four of his veterans, and, standing up
in his stirrups, shouted out to know for whom the fortress was held.

The old man replied for the King Muley Hamida; but, as he had fled to
Goletta, to put himself under the protection of the Lord D. John of
Austria, the speaker was willing to give up the fortress to the said
Lord D. John when he should appear. The Marqués was satisfied with this,
and refused to take the keys, reserving this honour for D. John of
Austria, to whom he sent a messenger at once, announcing the fact, and
collected his troops in the arsenal, which was in the lower part of the
town, there to await the arrival of the army. The soldiers went back
with less caution, and, as they on their part committed no acts of
violence, the people remaining in Tunis were reassured, and at the
openings of the shutters began to appear sun-burnt childish faces, the
forms of veiled women and old men, who came to the doors bowing to the
invaders. There was also a great number of domestic animals, fowls above
all, which wandered about the streets, seemingly having escaped from
open farm-yards or deserted stables.




                               CHAPTER VI


D. John of Austria received the message from the Marqués de Santa Cruz
at a deserted place called Diana, two miles from Tunis, where he had
camped. He ordered a crier to announce at once that the town of Tunis
was given over to be sacked, on the understanding that no one was to be
either wounded, killed, or taken as a slave. Then he continued the
march, and arrived at Tunis at two o'clock. He left the army drawn up in
front of the walls, and entered the town accompanied only by his
captains, to reconnoitre it for himself, arrange barracks and billets to
avoid misbehaviour on the part of the soldiery and give courage to the
Moors who showed themselves, which were all those left in Tunis. The
Alcaide of the Alcazaba came with the other principal Moors, and
delivered up the keys of the fortress, with a humble but dignified
address. D. John listened courteously, without alighting from his horse,
and did not take the keys which the Alcaide offered on his knees. He
made a sign to the Marqués de Santa Cruz that he should take them, as he
was the first to enter the place.[16] Then he wrote at once from the
Alcazaba to his brother Philip II, announcing that His Majesty was Lord
of Tunis without a shot having been fired. At last he gave the signal to
sack the town. The loot was plentiful, and as far as it was possible the
sack was orderly, without other outrage than the death of an old man who
had taken refuge in a Mosque, and several fires, due to the Italians,
whom D. John punished without loss of time, causing four of them to be
hanged. "They found in the town," says the journal of Fr. Miguel Servia,
"much wheat, barley, wool, butter, oil, and many garments; pimento,
cinnamon, cloves, ginger, beautiful porcelain and veils. From the wells,
cisterns and caverns they drew rich garments, gold, silver and other
things; and these first days they all ate nothing but fowls, because
there were countless numbers of them. The soldiers divided the spoil
among themselves in their barracks afterwards, and nothing else was
heard but digging in various parts of the town, and then selling what
was found, clothing being sold for a low and wretched price. Some parts
of the town the Italians set on fire, which much annoyed His Highness,
but many people came up, and it was remedied."

Footnote 16:

  These keys are still in the possession of his descendant the Marqués
  de Santa Cruz.

A very extraordinary thing happened to D. John at the Alcazaba. This
castle, which, as we have said, was big and strong, had within its walls
large cloistered court-yards, orchards, and gardens, comfortable rooms
richly furnished in the Moorish fashion, with pavements and fountains of
white marble. These were the rooms of the King Muley Hamida, and in them
D. John lived. There was a winding staircase by which to descend to a
shady little garden, with hedges of myrtle and beautiful flower borders,
and oranges and lemons, quinces and pomegranates. Beyond were the baths,
and behind these the old ruined part of the Alcazaba. The day after his
arrival D. John went to this garden, at the hour of siesta, in search of
coolness. He was accompanied by Gabrio Cervelloni, Captain-General of
the artillery, and by Juan de Soto, and they sat down on a sort of seat
of Moorish tiles, under the shade of some creepers. The heat, the hour,
the noise of running water, and the sweet peacefulness of this
enchanting spot soon overcame the feeble conversation, and they were in
that comfortable, charmed state which precedes sleep. Suddenly
Cervelloni jumped up from his seat and put his hand on his dagger, D.
John and Soto doing the same: along one of the myrtle-edged paths they
saw slowly advancing an enormous lion with a tangled mane. The animal
seemed astonished to see these persons, and paused for a moment, gazing
about as if surprised, with one paw poised in the air. Then it quietly
continued its walk, and went up to D. John, who had gone to meet it,
rubbing against his legs like a dog, and throwing itself humbly at his
feet. Then a Nubian slave appeared from the side of the baths, and
explained by picturesque signs that his beautiful animal was a tame lion
for the solace of King Hamida, and that it lived familiarly with all the
dwellers of the Alcabaza. D. John then gently caressed the mane, and
such a current of sympathy passed between the _lion of Austria_ and the
lion of the desert, that the latter became the devoted slave of the
former, and thus the great knight D. Luis Zapata de Calatayud describes
it, having often seen it: "D. John gave it his own name of Austria,"
says the already quoted Zapata in his Miscellany, "and neither by day
nor by night, like a faithful captain, did it ever leave its post. When
transacting business at Naples he had it lying at his feet like a
greyhound, its head on the ground, and satisfied with the attention paid
to it. When he dined it was at the table, and ate what D. John gave it.
It came when he called it, and on the galley, the boat was its
dwelling-place. When he was riding, it ran at his stirrups like a
lackey, and if he went on foot, behind like a page. There was nothing in
his royal house at which this gentle and obedient lion was not present,
to the point of being by day or by night of those of his bed-chamber;
and if it was cross with anyone who took hold of it, in order to rouse
it, a word from the Lord D. John, calling, "Austria, quiet, come here,"
pacified it, and it went to throw itself on his bed. This beautiful and
rare animal, when D. John left Naples for Flanders, gave such sighs and
roars that it saddened and astonished all those of that kingdom, until
at last, from sorrow for the loss and absence of its master, eating much
and eating little, it died."

It is this lion which is painted in various portraits of D. John, whose
gay, chivalrous nature made him sign himself for fun in the letters to
his two great friends, D. Rodrigo de Mendoza and the Conde de Orgaz, as
the _Knight of the Lion_, and in another letter to Gian Andrea Doria,
lamenting his work in Flanders, he says, "The Knight of the Lion does
not in the least envy the good life of Genoa, and its coast, as his life
is as laborious as that of the Knight at Ease is peaceful."

D. John, according to Philip II's instructions, made a thorough
examination of the fortifications and strategical position of Tunis, and
had long talks about it with Gabrio Cervelloni, who was well versed in
such matters; but, far from settling to dismantle the town, as the King
thought, he decided to build a new fort, capable of holding 8000 men, to
complete its defence. Tunis is situated on the banks of a lagoon, which
is so shallow that it is called "el estaño" (the pond), which is no
other than the ancient and famous port of Carthage, silted up by the
centuries, and the carelessness and the filth of all Tunis which emptied
itself there. The mouth of the lagoon is a narrow channel in the Gulf of
Tunis, and it is in this opening that Goletta is situated, defending the
entrance. On the opposite side there is an island, separated by another
channel from Tunis, and it is here that D. John thought to build the new
fort, with a covered communication with the Alcazaba. Most of those
consulted warmly applauded the project, a few condemned it,
faint-hearted ones or toadies, to whom not to agree with the King was
openly to disobey him. But D. John, firm in his idea, ordered Gabrio
Cervelloni to put it into execution without delay; which fact was not
overlooked, and later the crafty Antonio Pérez, always on the watch,
knew how to make capital out of it.

Meanwhile the Moors were reassured by the humane and generous conduct of
D. John. They trusted him absolutely, and daily the fugitives returned
to their houses, and Moors of the country descended from the mountains
to sell bread, meat, eggs, olives, fish, beef, mutton, and a thousand
other things, as peacefully and with as much confidence and security as
they would in an ordinary market. There still remained, however, a
garrison of Turks in Biserta; but the Moor Horrus, who was the Alcaide,
surprised them with a few neighbours, and beheaded them all. He then
took a fine Turkish galley which was in the port, killing some of the
crew, making slaves of others, and giving liberty to the 156 Christian
captives on board. Having accomplished this feat, the twenty-two Moorish
magnates went to Tunis, with the Christian captives, to deliver them up
to D. John, and to make their submission to him.

This happened on the 13th of October, and on the 14th D. John, satisfied
as to the submission of the kingdom, publicly gave it over to the Prince
Muley Hamet; not with the title of King of Tunis, but with that of
Governor in the name of His Catholic Majesty D. Philip II, King of
Spain. He also wrote the same day to Goletta, giving D. Juan de Cardona
orders to embark on a galley for Palermo, and gave another as an escort
to the dethroned King Muley Hamida and his son, and all the other Moors
of his suite who cared to follow them. At first the proud Moor refused
to embark, but, convinced by his son and by those about him that
resistance would be futile, he allowed himself to be taken on the galley
without resistance. He was wrapped in a long mulberry- cloak,
with a white burnous over it, with the hood drawn, hiding his face with
its swollen features. He was swarthy, with an evil countenance and a
scanty beard. He walked slowly and with much dignity, his arms crossed,
and his eyes fixed on the African soil which he was treading for the
last time. When he embarked on the galley from the boat he received a
salute of two cannons, and the crew gave theirs also, which they called
"de forzado." Then his African impassiveness broke down, and he burst
into tears, saying bitterly in Arabic, "King without a crown, man
without freedom, salutes are unbecoming to you." Such was the King Muley
Hamida, whom Cervantes calls "the cruellest and bravest Moor in the
world."

Tunis quieted and the Moors content with their new government, D. John
returned to Goletta and began the preparations for his departure. He
left 8000 men divided between Goletta, Tunis, Biserta and the island
where they were beginning the new fort, and named as Generals of these
garrisons D. Pedro Portocarrero, Gabrio Cervelloni, D. Francisco de
Avila, and D. Juan Zagonera. This done, he embarked on the 24th of
October in the evening, taking with him all the remainder of the army,
except the Marqués de Santa Cruz, who remained with the galleys under
his command as rearguard. At Palermo he learnt of the death of Princess
Juana, which had taken place at the Escorial on the 8th of September.
The loss of this beloved sister affected D. John very much, and those of
his household saw him, in the privacy of his room, cry like a child,
which proves that bravery and energy are not weakened by feelings and
the tears which spring from pure and tender affections. He ordered
funeral rites in the churches, and the fleet to go into mourning,
painting and hanging with black the masts, yards, oars and bulwarks of
the ships.

This mourning, however, did not prevent the great reception D. John
received in Naples. It was something like the solemn triumphs of the
Roman conquerors of old; nor did the procession lack captive kings and
princes, to wit, Muley Hamida and his son, or strange wild beasts of
other countries, represented by the lion Austria, who walked at D.
John's stirrups, led by two strong Nubians who waited on it, without its
seeming surprised or put out by the bands, salutes, or the shouting of
the mixed multitude which accompanied D. John all the way from the mole
to the palace.

D. John entered Naples on the 12th of November, and on the 13th Juan de
Soto left for Rome on a secret mission, to tell the Pope from D. John
that the Tunis expedition was ended as far as it concerned him, and that
if the Pope still intended to give him the kingdom as he had offered to
do, that he should interpose his good offices with Philip II, so that D.
John might accept it without any disloyalty and with Philip's absolute
consent. The ambassador D. Juan de Zúñiga knew of the arrival of Soto in
Rome, and although he did not know the reason, he hastened to apprise
Philip II of the fact, who by it was filled with suspicion and fresh
jealousy. He was, however, soon enlightened, as in a day or two the
Nuncio Ormanetto, Bishop of Padua, presented himself on a special
mission on behalf of Gregory XIII, and explained very minutely the
Pope's plans for the kingdom of Tunis and for D. John, urging strongly
that they should be approved and favoured. D. Philip listened
attentively, and as if these plans were not for the good of all
Christendom, but only for the benefit of D. John of Austria. He thanked
His Holiness very much for the interest that he took in his brother, and
charged the Nuncio to say so to Gregory XIII.

Three days later he wrote a letter to his brother, of which Lorenzo
Vander-Hammen makes a precis thus:

"That he was not to be anxious about his person or promotion, as he
would see to that as of one so near to him, but that this was not the
time until it was seen what would be the result of the past expedition,
nor could it be of use or value, but rather a great vexation and care to
all; that he would consider the matter well as the case demanded, and if
it were advisable he would be the first to assist in its execution, as
he desired it."




                              CHAPTER VII


Philip II was much annoyed at the result of his interview with the
Nuncio Ormanetto, because he saw that the Pope was seriously thinking of
raising D. John from his dependent position by giving him a crown, and
that D. John, on his part, would go as far as his chivalrous loyalty
permitted. Antonio Pérez confirmed the King's fears, making him see that
the preservation of the forts of Tunis contrary to D. Philip's opinion,
and Juan de Soto's secret journey to Rome, were acts of real
independence; and, although he did not dare to accuse D. John openly, he
threw the blame on the secretary Soto, attributing everything to his
influence and intrigues, and again insisted on the necessity of
separating D. John from such a dangerous adviser, and of substituting
for him an energetic, temperate man, who would know how to moderate
these fiery ambitions. This temperate, energetic man whom Pérez now
ventured to propose was Juan de Escovedo, a former retainer of the
Prince of Évoli and completely his creature, who was then secretary of
the King at the Treasury.

All this irritated and perplexed D. Philip. He did not wish to vex the
Pope, whose disinterestedness and holy aims he well knew; nor did he
wish either to deprive his brother of all hope, because, although he did
not doubt D. John's loyalty, he was afraid, having become suspicious, of
subjecting it to undue proof.

In this difficulty he judged very wisely that the danger would cease
with the opportunity, and he resolved to get rid, as far as possible, of
"_this care and worry of Tunis_," and in this sense wrote to D. John the
letter which we have already quoted. He also decided to follow the
advice of Antonio Pérez, appointing Juan de Escovedo as secretary to D.
John; and as his natural prudence and judgment saw no reason for
injuring Juan de Soto, or motive for depriving himself of Soto's useful
services elsewhere, he confirmed him in the appointment of Commissary of
the Fleet in Italy, which was both an honourable and lucrative post.

So Juan de Escovedo set out to join D. John at Naples, bearing express
orders from the King and strong recommendations from Antonio Pérez, to
moderate D. John's ambitious aspirations, and reduce him to a mere
instrument of the policy of his brother, without any views of his own.
This man, celebrated afterwards for the gloomy drama of which he was the
victim, was then between forty-five and fifty years old. He appeared
rather a clownish peasant from anywhere than a noble of the Asturias. He
was of middle height, thick-set, with heavy shoulders, and so swarthy
and bilious-looking, that in the secret correspondence of Philip II and
Antonio Pérez he is often designated by the name of "verdinegro" (the
dark green one). However, he compensated with interest for his rough
ways and absolute want of manners by his generous, unselfish nature, his
sterling honesty, clear understanding, and energetic activity, which
rendered him capable of facing all obstacles. Ruy Gómez and Luis Quijada
esteemed him much and the latter honoured him not a little in his
lifetime, and Doña Magdalena de Ulloa had retained, in her retirement,
such a happy recollection of his honesty and uprightness, that no sooner
did she hear of his new appointment than she hastened to write him the
following letter:

    "Illustrious Sir; I desire to write to you to tell you the
    pleasure that it gives me to see you in the company of the Lord
    D. John, because I desire nothing in the world so much as to see
    such persons about him, for I know the necessity he has of this,
    and how he will profit by it, and as H.H. does not neglect to
    keep me informed, I have begged him to make the duty over to
    you, whom I ask to write by every post whatever you think that I
    might care to hear about D. John and what he does, and I also
    beg of you that no post should leave without bringing me
    information, because if this is not carried out, and the post
    comes with nothing, it gives me a great shock, and you can send
    the letters to the house of D. Pedro Manuel, and I will reply by
    the same means or as you may direct; and because I think that,
    although it will be a trouble to you, you will do it as a favour
    to me, I end by praying Our Lord to give you as good a journey
    and as much success as I wish you. May Our Lord keep and prosper
    your illustrious person as I wish. At your service,

                                               DOÑA MAGDALENA DE ULLOA."

                  *       *       *       *       *

Gregory XIII, on his part, never wavered in his ideas, and losing all
hope that Philip II would help him in his plans for the kingdom of
Tunis, he turned to another scheme which had been a failure in the time
of Pius V, but which he desired to resuscitate with fresh life and
vigour by confiding its execution to D. John of Austria, "because of his
valour and good fortune," quoth the Pontiff, who matured in silence his
secret project, which was to bring so much good to Christendom and so
much glory to D. John, and until he could divulge it he contented
himself with lavishing proofs of esteem and affection on him, such as
were then only shown to kings and reigning princes.

In March of that year, 1574, he sent to Naples by his Chamberlain the
Golden Rose, blessed on Palm Sunday, which, according to ancient custom,
the Pope was in the habit of sending to the king or queen who had
deserved the most gratitude from the Holy See during the year. This
unusual honour frightened the Viceroy of Naples, Cardinal de Granvelle,
who was no friend of D. John, and he hastened to apprise Philip II of
the fact. The Chamberlain arrived at Naples with the Golden Rose on the
24th of March, and on the 25th the solemn presentation took place in the
church of St. Clara. The friars of St. Clara, great admirers of D. John,
put a crimson velvet carpet on the Gospel side, to receive him, with _a
chair and curtain_, as they would have done for an Infante of Spain.
Granvelle knew of this, but held his tongue and let it pass, in order to
have something against D. John, if he had accepted the honour; but he,
warned in time, ordered the canopy to be removed and another chair to be
placed at the left of his own for Granvelle.

Great was the enthusiasm in Naples over the new honour bestowed on D.
John, and all wished to take part in it. It was a point of honour with
the ladies to go to the festival with symbolical roses in their
head-dresses and at their breasts, and they bombarded everyone, from the
Cardinal to the smallest acolyte, with demands for seats. It was,
however, impossible to satisfy them all, and on this day noble ladies
were seen in the gutter, crowded on the stairs, in the doorways, and
even in the recesses of the chapel, anxious to see everything and to be
seen.

There were faintings from lack of air, cries of protest, bad-tempered
pushing, crumpled ruffs, crooked caps, creased petticoats, unfastened
shawls, lost jewels, and heaps of petals from the roses that had
occupied such honourable positions. The necklace of the wife of an
important Councillor was broken; it was a string of pearls, and only
half a dozen could be recovered.

D. John came between the Cardinal Granvelle and the Archbishop of
Monreale, and was followed by all the numerous princes, marquises and
counts who were in Naples, and by a crowd of gentlemen. A Bishop
celebrated the Mass, and the Bishop of Castellamare, who was Chaplain to
the King, gave D. John the Pax and presented him with the Gospels to
kiss. The Pope's Chamberlain was on the Epistle side, on a seat without
a back covered with crimson velvet. He wore a black velvet cassock, and
over it a crimson garment. The Golden Rose was displayed on the high
altar in a big silver jar. It was of massive gold, with its foliage a
foot high; it had diamonds sprinkled over it like drops of dew, and the
green leaves were made of emeralds, some of enormous size. Mass over,
the Chamberlain took a brief of the Pope and gave it to D. John to kiss,
and then to a secretary to read aloud. The reading finished, D. John
knelt down on a cushion of crimson velvet before the Bishop who had
celebrated the Mass, and who, taking the Golden Rose from the hands of
an ecclesiastic, gave it to D. John, saying, "Our Holy Father, Gregory
XIII, Very Serene Prince, sends you this consecrated rose, in token of
his benevolence and paternal love. By his orders I give it to your
Highness."

To which D. John replied, "I kiss the feet of His Holiness for so great
a favour, and I receive the rose with the veneration due to something so
sacred, sent by the Vicar of Christ, universal Shepherd and head of the
Church."

At this time there broke out in Genoa the famous disturbances between
the old and the new nobility, called respectively "the Porch of St.
Luke" and "the Porch of St. Peter," and Philip II, who held the
protectorate of this republic, hastened to send D. John of Austria with
a few galleys to pacify the insurgents with skill and cleverness; and if
it were not possible to quiet them by any other means, to do so by force
of arms. The Pope heard of his passing Gaeta, which was only twenty
leagues from Rome, and on the pretext of greeting him, sent his son
Jacobo Boncompagni, who carried secret instructions to apprise D. John
of those mysterious plans over which the Pope had long been meditating.
Marco Antonio Colonna accompanied Jacobo on his own account, as also did
the Spanish ambassador in Rome, D. Juan de Zúñiga.

The three illustrious personages came to visit D. John on the 18th of
April on board his galley with a numerous and brilliant suite, and the
next day D. John landed to give them a royally sumptuous banquet in the
house of the Governor of Gaeta. The long, wide table was set in the
principal saloon, with two places side by side laid with services of
rich plate, D. John giving the place of honour to Jacobo. On the right,
but at a respectful distance, was a similar place for Marco Antonio
Colonna, and at an equal distance on the left another for D. Juan de
Zúñiga. One hundred and twenty-three dishes were served with all the
viands and exquisite sauces for which Italian cooking was then so
famous, without counting dessert, which covered the table three times,
with different conceits of towers, tournaments, castles, and wild
beasts, with pastry and delicious sweetmeats; more than forty kinds of
wine were passed round. The merriment and good temper of the illustrious
guests never flagged for a moment, and the crowd of noble gentlemen, who
stood respectfully watching the banquet, snatched a mouthful at the
sideboard, and were satisfied with abundant cups of wine.

At the end of dinner Boncompagni asked D. John's permission to present
him with the gift that Gregory XIII had sent: some very rich tournament
armour, a great black velvet pouch full of gold medals that had been
blessed, which D. John divided among those present, and a little chest
of red velvet containing a beautiful group of the Crucifixion, of great
artistic merit. The Pope kept this chest in his rooms, and it was
enriched with numerous indulgences.

In return for these presents D. John gave Boncompagni a horse worth 500
ducats, and its trappings which cost 2500, and a sword ornamented with
gold worth 800 ducats.

The next day, on board the galley "Real," under the awning of striped
red and white damask which stretched in front of D. John's cabin,
Boncompagni confided to him the mysterious enterprise which Gregory XIII
proposed to undertake with D. John's help. D. John listened attentively
in silence, from time to time his blue eyes flashed with enthusiasm. It
was a question of setting at liberty a beautiful captive queen and
snatching a kingdom from the heretics.




                              CHAPTER VIII


Meanwhile the capture of Tunis had made patent to all Europe how deep
was the wound that the credit and power of the Ottoman Empire had
received at Lepanto. This great defeat was no doubt a disaster for the
Turks; but a glorious disaster, both on account of the deeds of valour
they had performed, and the titanic efforts it cost the victors to gain
the triumph. The flight from Tunis without firing a shot, at the mere
presence of D. John two years after this rude warning, showed how deeply
rooted was the terror in the souls of the infidels, and how the renown
of the Christian bravery had been enhanced, especially that of the
Spaniards. All this cruelly wounded the overweening pride of Selim, and
he was consumed with the desire of avenging himself by reconquering
Tunis and Goletta. He was urged, with malicious eagerness, to undertake
this enterprise by Aluch Ali and the renegade Mustafa, one of the
engineers who built Goletta in the time of Charles V. The name of this
traitor was Jacobo Zitolomini. Resenting the treatment he had received
from Philip II, he fled to Algiers to Aluch Ali, who took him to
Constantinople, where he revealed to Selim a sure and secret way of
taking Goletta.

At the beginning of May, 1574, D. John received an urgent message from
Gabrio Cervelloni, to say that the Turks were preparing a very powerful
fleet; that it was feared that they would fall suddenly upon Tunis, and
that, in consequence of this, funds should be sent as quickly as
possible to finish the new fort, which was not yet completed. D. John
was at Genoa, quieting the disturbances there, and he hastened to send
the Commissary of the Fleet Juan de Soto to Madrid, to warn Philip II of
the danger which threatened. The King was not much alarmed about this,
and, perhaps, saw a prompt and certain opportunity of ridding himself of
this _care and worry of Tunis_. At any rate, his answer makes it clear
that this new conquest was the least of his cares, and while writing to
Cardinal Granvelle, Viceroy of Naples, and to the Duque de Terranova,
Regent of Sicily, that they were to guard the ports and reinforce the
garrisons, especially in Messina, Augusta, Syracuse, Trapani and
Palermo, he contented himself with adding that they were not to forget
to help his brother, and to look after the coast of Barbary. He also
ordered D. García de Toledo and the Marqués de Santa Cruz to watch how
D. John was garrisoning Goletta, and to the latter the King wrote that
he was to do what he judged best in the matter, but that he was to
remember that he had said that 2000 foot soldiers were enough to defend
Goletta. D. John then sent D. Juan de Cardona with all the galleys under
his command to Tunis without loss of time, taking the help for which
Gabrio Cervelloni craved. This was not sufficient, and those in Tunis
reiterated their request. D. John then exhausted all his resources, and
sent D. Bernardino de Velasco with twenty Neapolitan galleys and four
companies of Italian infantry. With these comings and goings summer was
getting old, and on the 13th of August, at the Cape of Carthage,
appeared the dreaded Turkish fleet of 300 ships and 60,000 soldiers, the
fleet being commanded by Aluch Ali, and the troops by Selim's son-in-law
Sinan Pasha, the renegade.

A great outcry arose at the extreme peril of the Barbary Christians, and
by every means in their power they sent to ask help from Granvelle,
Terranova, and, above all, from D. John of Austria, in virtue of his
office and Christian piety. He wished to fly to their aid, abandoning
everything. He wrote first, however, to the Duque de Sesa, "To urge the
Cardinal to send people to help Goletta, as that province was in his
charge." But the imperturbable Granvelle replied coldly, "That he had
much to guard in the Kingdom, and that it did not suit him to divide his
forces." "This was," says Vander Hammen, commenting on the fact, "to
give colour to the excuse. The real reason was Granvelle's dislike to
support D. John, jealous of his favours with Mars and Venus, and because
he was a foreigner, and because his brothers conspired in the Flemish
rebellion;" and Luis Cabrera de Córdoba expresses himself in similar
words, equally severe, not forgetting Mars and Venus. And D. John
himself wrote to his sister Donna Margarita: "In short, Lady, everything
goes badly; and in truth it is not entirely the fault of His Majesty,
except for permitting those who govern his States to forget that those
in their vicinity, or those that are not, are as much His Majesty's as
those which each minister has charge of."

Meanwhile D. John, tired of waiting for orders, troops and money which
did not come, and making it a point of honour to go to Tunis, moved with
desperate activity from Genoa to Naples, Messina and Palermo, recruiting
soldiers everywhere, chartering ships, and pledging for all this his
plate, his jewels, and even his word, until he had collected at Messina
a moderate fleet with no lack of fighting men. He was all ready to sail
for Africa, when he met with another obstacle, more powerful than the
calculated coldness of Philip II, or the jealous hatred of the Cardinal.
The sea! The terrible sea which rose in a furious storm which threw him
to Trapani, much against his will, and kept him there days and days,
giving time for Christians to perish and for the Turks to become
victorious. Three times he tried to leave the port, defying the storm,
and as often had to retire before the surging waves. Then he sent four
galleys without quarter-decks and platforms on the forecastles to take
the mere hope of help to Goletta, but the implacable tempest prevented
this by destroying two of them. At last the weather improved; but before
D. John could put to sea, a French galley, without masts and knocked
about by the storm, was driven into the port of Trapani. On board of her
was D. Juan Zagonera, with fifty soldiers, all that remained at liberty
of the garrison that D. John had left in Barbary. From them he heard of
the terrible disaster. The Turks were in possession of Tunis; three
thousand soldiers were dead, and the rest wounded or captives; Pagano
Doria had been beheaded; Gabrio Cervelloni, D. Pedro Portocarrero and D.
Francisco de Avila were the slaves of Sinan; the new fort razed before
it was finished; and Goletta, the glorious legacy of Charles V, blown up
by mines, and erased from the African soil by Aluch Ali, as the wind of
the desert obliterates footprints.

Those who were jealous of D. John blamed him for this catastrophe, with
which he had had nothing to do; the sensible public opinion, at times so
right and sharp, blamed Granvelle, and songs, which have come down to
us, were sung on the subject in the streets. A few, but very few, said
in a whisper, as in those days it was necessary to do, that the Cardinal
was not responsible, since in refusing aid to Goletta he had obeyed
secret orders from Madrid. Of this, however, absolutely no proof exists.

The energetic nature of D. John was not depressed by this bad news; but
it awoke a thousand different sentiments in his mind, and under the
impression of disgust, sorrow and wounded dignity, and, above all, his
loyal frankness, which always urged him to treat questions openly and in
a straightforward manner, he resolved to go to Spain to confer with his
brother Philip II face to face about three different questions which
were connected with each other—as to his remaining permanently in Italy
as Lieutenant-Governor of those States, his recognition as Infante of
Castille, and the mysterious scheme that Gregory XIII had proposed to
him.

So it fell out, and by January, 1575, D. John was already in Madrid. On
the 15th of February he wrote to his sister Donna Margarita:

    "Lady, I, praised be God, arrived a few days ago at this Court,
    where I have received such kindness from His Majesty that only
    to have gained this I consider that I have spent my life well.
    Since my arrival I think that he understands Italian affairs
    very differently from what he did before. I had thought, as I
    had prayed His Majesty, to stay some time in Madrid; but in the
    end he is resolved to order me to return to those parts, and is
    in a great hurry to send me off. I think that I shall start in
    the middle of the coming month, and I also think that I go to
    begin a new sort of service according to what suits His Majesty.
    Meanwhile one has to overcome difficulties and hasten on the
    things required for this summer's campaign.

    "To all this I pay so much attention that each day, in councils
    and out of them, I do nothing else. It is already drawing so
    near summer, that I am satisfied with nothing that I do not see.
    Here, Lady, everything is councils; every day I hold two,
    besides a thousand other occupations, which leave me no time
    that I can call my own."

D. Philip was under the spell of the fascination that D. John always
exercised, and, notwithstanding the groundless suspicions of Antonio
Pérez, he received his brother with loving affection and the gratitude
and graciousness due to a leader who had added such lustre and glory to
the arms and name of Spain. He listened long, and with great interest,
to D. John's information about Italian affairs, changing his opinion
much about them. He agreed with D. John in blaming the Ministers and
Viceroys of those States, especially Granvelle and the Duque de
Terranova. He talked over and fixed the loans which should be made to
the various councils to enable them to guard themselves that summer
against the Turk, whose pride had to be humbled after the recent capture
of Tunis; and finally appointed him, with the approval of the whole
council, and to the secret horror of Antonio Pérez, his
Lieutenant-General of all Italy, with authority over all the Viceroys
and Ministers who governed those States. This, however, was to remain a
secret, to spare the reputations and prestige of these functionaries,
and was only to be manifested in case of abuse of authority or boast of
independence. "This for Y. Highness only, I beg for many reasons," wrote
D. John from Naples to Donna Margarita. "I also bring an order that
everyone has to act with obedience; but this is only to be used when
some Minister persuades himself to the contrary, which I do not think
will happen, as by letters they have learnt what concerns them."

D. John, encouraged by this, dared to present the second part of his
programme, which was that, in order to wound no one and to give an
outward sign of this supremacy over the Italian Ministers, the King
should concede to him the rank and title of Infante, which was
spontaneously given him by all, great and small. D. Philip did not like
to refuse this well-deserved favour, but with excuses made D. John
understand that the time was not ripe for this. He did not do this out
of ill-will, or from miserly stinginess, or still less from jealousy of
his fame and renown, as some say, but because it was one of the maxims
of this prudent King, inherited from his father Charles V, to stimulate
the services of the Grandees with a reward in proportion to their rank;
and without giving D. John a crown, which Philip did not wish to do,
there remained no other reward worthy of him but the title of Infante,
and it seemed premature to give him this now, considering the many and
important services Philip hoped to obtain from him in the future.

As to the project of Gregory XIII, D. John did not have to broach the
subject to his brother. D. Philip himself began it, having already
talked over and settled it with the Nuncio Ormanetto.




                               CHAPTER IX


Four years before these events, in June, 1571, a little old, nervous and
active Italian arrived in Madrid. He called himself Giulio Benasai, a
merchant from Genoa; he stopped at an inn, near the gate of the Viper,
now the Puerta Cerrada, and very early the next day began his visits,
which were anything but commercial ones. He visited Monsignor Ormanetto,
the Pope's Nuncio; Dr. Milio, governor, in the Duke's absence, of the
Alba estates; the secretaries Zayas and Mateo Vázguez, and lastly, five
days after his arrival, on the 28th, he visited the King, Philip II, at
the Castle. This visit, however, was very different from the others, it
was paid secretly at night, and once inside the Castle he no longer
called himself Giulio Benasai, or a native of Genoa, or a merchant. His
name was Roberto Ridolfi, a banker in London, and secret agent of His
Holiness Pius V in that heretic country.

Ridolfi gave three letters, substantially alike, into Philip's own
hands. These begged him to give Ridolfi his entire confidence, and to
undertake what he would explain, granting all the resources he deemed
prudent in order to further the enterprise. They were from no less
personages than Pius V, the Queen of Scots, Mary Stuart, then a prisoner
in England, and the third one from the Duke of Norfolk.

The project was this; to capture the heretic Queen of England,
Elizabeth, and the lords of her Council, and shut them up in the Tower
of London; to marry the lawful Queen, Mary Stuart, to the Duke of
Norfolk, and in this way to re-establish Catholicism in England and
Scotland. Philip's aid was sought for the plan, and they had already
obtained the support of the most influential English lords and of Mary's
partisans in Scotland, who were then numerous and powerful. The Pope had
prepared the way by hurling his terrible Bull against Elizabeth,
declaring her to be an obstinate heretic and an abettor of heresy,
deposing her from the English throne and absolving her subjects from
their oaths of fealty and obedience. He promised, moreover, all the
funds that the Holy See had at its disposal.

For this enterprise the Duke of Norfolk asked the King of Spain for 6000
arquebusiers, 4000 arquebuses, 2000 cuirasses and 25 pieces of
artillery, with the necessary money and ammunition. He promised, for his
part, to raise in England 3000 horsemen and 2000 foot soldiers and to
undertake the dangerous task of capturing the Queen and her Councillors
and of setting Mary Stuart free. He also promised to remain on his
estates in Norfolk, facing the coast of Holland, to protect the landing
of the troops that the Duque de Alba was to send from Flanders. The
Duque had talked to Ridolfi in Brussels and approved of the plan, with
certain reservations, and even thought it an easy one, once Elizabeth
was either captured or dead; he waited, however, for the orders and
consent of his Sovereign.

Philip II listened to Ridolfi with his usual reserve and caution, and
sent him to the Escorial, where the Duque de Feria examined him at
length, and where an important council was held on the 7th of July, the
minutes of which are preserved in the archives at Simancas. They all
approved of the plan and agreed to order its prompt execution by the
Duque de Alba. But such was the slowness of Philip in settling the
details and such was his indecision about dictating the last orders,
that time was given for Norfolk to be denounced, tried, and publicly
beheaded in London.

It was this scheme, ruined by the death of Norfolk, which Gregory XIII
wished to resuscitate. He sent another Bull, similar to the one of Pius
V, giving the sovereignty of England to her legitimate Queen, Mary
Stuart, and marrying her to D. John of Austria, who was to command the
Spanish hosts which were to invade England. The Pope had already
consulted the English and Scotch lords and other magnates who were
willing to support Norfolk's movement, and they undertook to perform all
that they had previously promised to the unhappy Duke. To reinstate the
plan in the same advantageous position it had held in the days of Pius V
only the consent and help of Philip and D. John were lacking. At his
interview at Gaeta with Jacobo Boncompagni D. John enthusiastically gave
his consent, subject to his brother's will, which was for him an
unbreakable law. But Philip, on his part, received the proposal coldly
when it was unfolded to him in the name of Gregory XIII by the Nuncio
Ormanetto; he very courteously thanked the Pope for the favour shown to
his brother, but excused himself from helping the enterprise because of
the necessity there was of concentrating large armies in Italy for fear
of the Turk, who had been heartened by the triumph of Tunis, and in
Flanders where the rebels were also encouraged by the departure of the
Duque de Alba. And as the Nuncio argued, pointing out the truth so well
known to the politicians of the day, that the focus of the rebellion had
to be stamped out, not in Flanders, but in England, where the Queen was
always stirring it up and helping the rebels in every way, D. Philip
answered that this was true and that he knew it full well; but that all
the same he could not remove a single pike from Flanders until the new
policy of gentleness and reconciliation, which he had entrusted to the
Knight Commander Requesens, had taken effect. Then he would consider
whether or no the expedition to England would suit him.

Philip gave his brother the same answer when they treated of the
circumstance, adding other reasons, all tending to bind D. John tighter
to his service, without disappointing him or at once dissipating the
dreams he might have woven round such a romantic plan as conquering a
kingdom by setting a beautiful captive queen at liberty, which must have
appealed so strongly to D. John's chivalrous fancy. So D. Philip
promised, without any intention of fulfilling it, according to Antonio
Pérez, or as we think, meaning to do so if it suited the plans of his
policy to favour Gregory's scheme when the danger of a fresh war with
the Turk, which then threatened, was over.

And as if to bring D. John down from the sphere of heroic ideas, where
genius usually dwells, to the petty weaknesses among which most mortals
struggle, in the next line the King spoke of what in certain ways was
the only thing which could humiliate and shame D. John, and which
embittered his life—the conduct of his mother—which had reached such a
pitch that no one frequented her house but low persons, among whom was
an Englishman, supposed to be on too intimate terms with her. The Duque
de Alba, who, though severe, was not straitlaced, had upbraided her
without success several times, and, tired out, had decided to write the
following letter to the secretary Zayas:

    "Very magt. Sir. An affair is taking place here which much
    troubles me, because I have tried by every means to remedy it,
    without success, and it has reached such lengths, that it would
    be well if H.M. should quickly cure it. You will be doing me a
    favour to tell H.M. that the mother of D. John lives with so
    much liberty, in a manner so unlike that in which the mother of
    such a son should live, that it is necessary to put a stop to
    it, as the affair is so public and so free and open that they
    tell me that no honourable woman will enter her doors. Things
    have come to such a pass that they are changing the servants
    every week, and in my absence she has gone so far, that most
    days there are dances and banquets. She has turned out the two
    honourable old spinsters I placed near her and has filled their
    places with low women. She is dreadful and very obstinate. His
    Majesty will order what he wills, I had resolved to take her by
    night and put her in a convent, but I did not like to do so
    without first consulting him."

D. Philip answered the Duque de Alba by the following letter written in
cipher.

"The King.

    "Duke and Cousin. Cayas has shown me the letter you wrote about
    my brother D. John's mother, which, for reasons you mention and
    enter into, grieves me much, because she does not live with
    seemly modesty and respectability; and it appears to me, as it
    does to you, that the only thing to do is to bring her here, and
    her son is also of the same opinion, to whom I have sent Juan de
    Soto, to say I have done it for her welfare, these States being
    in the condition they are, without saying more, as there was no
    need to do so, and, as I understand the journey is to be by sea,
    if they were to tell her beforehand, it is very likely that she
    would do something foolish; it would be well to keep her in the
    dark until a safe ship is found, and then, everything being
    ready and the weather fine, to put her on board, whether she
    likes it or not, with a suitable retinue, giving orders that
    everything necessary for the journey should be provided, and
    that during it she should be well treated. Let me know in time,
    that she may be met at the port, and from there taken to the
    nearest and most suitable convent, which I have not yet decided
    on."

It was not the first time that the brothers had talked about this
painful subject; but now D. John knew all, without palliation or
reserve. D. Philip told him in wise and tactful words, like a kind
surgeon, who, without wishing to pain, probes a wound, and suggested the
remedy like a father who discusses a sad family matter. As there was no
other way, they determined to remove Barbara Blombergh from Flanders by
deceiving her, and to bring her to Spain, where, by D. John's proposal,
she should be given into the charge of Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, that
this noble lady should settle her in her own proximity, wherever, in her
prudence, discretion and charity, she deemed best. This idea appeared an
excellent one to D. Philip, and a few days later D. John set out for
Abrojo, where Doña Magdalena was expecting him.

Never had the mourning figure seemed so dignified to him, or had he
found such sweet and deep repose in her company, or thought that he saw
in her still beautiful eyes such intense love, such maternal solicitude,
or such tender grace as when she showed him the big coffers of linen
which she had ready for him, neckties of Flemish point which she herself
tried on, and the full starched ruffs, very full as she knew that he
liked them.

And it was his yearning for a mother, exasperated by the disillusion
about his own parent, that was comforted by the pure love and great
virtues of that other whom a merciful Heaven had sent to him. D. John
stayed four days at Abrojo, confiding everything that was on his mind to
Doña Magdalena, joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, triumphs and
disappointments, errors and repentances; and when she said good-bye at
the convent door, she thought, as she did the first time she saw him on
the staircase of Villagarcia, "It is a pity he is not really my son!"
And he said to himself with infinite bitterness, as he kissed her hand
for the last time, "It is a pity that she is not really my mother."

D. John left Abrojo with the profound regret and vague mistrust that a
wanderer feels who sets out on the desert sand after a day's rest in an
oasis. A friendly voice, however, encouraged him all that day, telling
him that a glorious future was his, if he fought with firmness and
waited with patience, which is the advice constancy gives that fiery
activity should achieve its purpose: that Gregory XIII's idea was
certain to be realised because it was great and just, and easy and
feasible, and in the end he would share the throne with the hitherto
unfortunate Queen of Scots; the England of D. John and the Spain of
Philip being the two strong pillars of the Holy Catholic Church.

He who spoke thus to D. John was Escovedo, whom Philip had commissioned
to moderate D. John's ambitious thoughts. And the most strange thing is
that Escovedo was clever and honest and was talking seriously.




                               CHAPTER X


Antonio Pérez relates in his famous "Memorial" that at first the
secretary Escovedo served the King very well in moderating the ambitious
ideas of D. John, but that "as time went on it was evident that he not
only did not fulfil the purpose for which he had been sent (to Italy),
but that his boldness, like that of Juan de Soto, increased, and that in
particular it was known that he began to have communication with Rome
for some benefit or grandeur for D. John, without informing his
Majesty."

There is truth in all this, mingled with much falsehood, as is the case
with all the contents of this venomous book. Escovedo never thought that
D. John was acting through vulgar ambition; although vulgarity is found
in all spheres, it was distasteful to his heroic nature; but he really
thought, as Antonio Pérez assured him, that D. John was blinded by his
ambitious ideas, and was craving the protection of Rome to carry into
effect visionary plans, which, to say the least, would hamper his
brother's policy, and that, in short, he was a brave youth, flushed by
his victories, whom it would be necessary to lead by the hand along the
beaten path of common sense, that he should not engulf his own great
qualities in the abyss of daring and fantasy. This is what Escovedo
believed about D. John when he went for the first time to Italy in the
capacity of secretary: but, learning to appreciate the frank charm of
his ways and the simple cheerfulness of his loyal character, he
retracted this opinion, and, little by little, the more he knew of D.
John and his affairs, the more he became convinced that what Antonio
Pérez called his foolhardy notions were really vigorous flights of
genius; and that what he named fantastic plans were the well-considered
schemes of two Pontiffs like Pius V and Gregory XIII, who were those
that thought of and upheld the project of conquering England; and that,
quite contrary to what Pérez said, the solicitations at Rome, far from
being humiliating to the King of Spain, were honourable offers made,
times and again, to D. John by the Popes, who were enchanted by his
bravery and valour, and were convinced that _this John, sent by God_,
was called to be one of the firmest pillars of the Catholic Church.

Then the same thing occurred which had happened to Juan de Quiroga and
afterwards to Juan de Soto. Escovedo became as devoted to D. John as
they had been; he was converted into a sincere admirer, who loudly sang
D. John's praises and began to favour his plans with all the force of
his energetic and passionate nature, giving a strange instance, which
proves so much, of three men of recognised merit, of unimpeachable
honour and upright intention, all warned by Antonio Pérez against D.
John's ambitious plans, falling, one by one, under the spell of his
charm, and, against their own interests, devoting themselves to serving
and helping him. A great proof that the spell D. John used to throw over
these people to draw them to him was, without any doubt, his own
worthiness.

This change in Escovedo was effected very quickly, and Madrid knew of it
at once, as by June, 1575, it was already an anxiety there, as is shown
by the following note written, according to that prudent Monarch's
habit, by Philip on the margin of a letter of Mateo Vázguez's. "The
arrival of Escovedo is certain, as you will see by this letter, and
although it appears he is not coming to ask for money, I am, to the last
degree, broken-hearted and tired out by it: although it will be well to
send him on at once, I cannot help thinking that he is encouraging him
and that that is why he is sent and no one else."

Escovedo did not come to Spain in search of money, although this was
very scarce, as it always was in all D. Philip's undertakings: D. John
sent him to notify to the King a new complication which had arisen in
Genoa, due to the intervention of the Pope in these circumstances, and
to ask for instructions on so delicate a matter.

Having overcome the danger of the Turk in the summer of 1575, D. John
gave himself up with perseverance all the rest of that year and the next
to ending these quarrels which might undermine the influence of Spain in
Italy and even drag her into a war with France. He therefore watched the
trend of affairs, sometimes in Naples, sometimes in Genoa itself,
finding time and opportunity in both places to give himself up to gay
amusements, even to culpable excesses, to which his youth disposed him
and the relaxed morals of the day incited him.

It is to this period of his life that must be assigned his intrigues
with the unhappy Zenobia Saratosio, who ended by crying over her sin in
the convent of St. Mary of Egypt, and with Doña Ana de Toledo, the proud
and domineering woman, who, perhaps, would have been the ruin of D.
John, had he not by an effort of his strong will, sharpened by a sense
of duty, torn himself in time from her evil influence. Luckily these
flowery chains did not bind D. John's manly soul; he broke at every step
all that impeded his indomitable temper, or what was insisted on by the
disquieting voice of remorse.

One night D. John was supping in the palace of Doña Ana de Toledo with
several others of those who screened and upheld his evil ways. Suddenly
one of his captains of the guard entered hurriedly with the news that on
one of the galleys, taken at Lepanto, the "Renegada," the crew, formed
of one hundred captive Turks, had risen, killed four soldiers on guard
and a boatswain, and had fled with the galley. Crimson with rage, D.
John jumped up, leaving his cup of wine half drunk, and ordered the
captain to go before him to the mole to warn the galley "Real" that he
was at once setting out to pursue the fugitives. In vain Doña Ana begged
him not to go, but to send one of the 160 galleys anchored in the port.
D. John answered her that it would all be the work of a moment, and that
in less than three hours he would return to finish his half-drunk cup.
The wilful and tyrannical woman insisted with tears, wishing to bend him
to her caprice and menacing him with a cessation of her favours if he
refused her. But without saying more D. John dashed into the street,
preceded by two pages with torches, calling out to all the soldiers he
met on the way, "Quick! Soldiers! Quick! They have taken a galley from
us."

He only met a dozen foot soldiers and one sergeant, Rivera, and with
them went to the mole, jumped on the "Real," and left the port. The
night was dark and the sea rough, and the "Real" flew along, with her
lanterns unlighted, impelled by the rowers, who were encouraged by the
great rewards offered by D. John.

They overtook the "Renegada" off the entrance of Capri. Seeing the
"Real" suddenly appear and deeming it an ordinary galley, the crew
prepared to defend themselves; but when they recognised the ship, fear
paralysed the fugitives and they did not dare to do so, which explains
how fourteen men took a ship on which were a hundred by boarding her;
they killed the Turks, overcoming and binding those who survived and
took them back to Naples. A little before dawn D. John disembarked in
the port, and once more turned his steps to the palace of Doña Ana. He
found it all open and lighted up, as if he were expected; but not a
single living soul did he see in it; astonished, he reached the
dining-room, and there noticed, to his surprise, that the table was
cleared, and on it a small, black velvet cloth; at the corners were four
silver candlesticks, in which lighted tapers were burning, and in the
centre a small golden salver with the half-emptied cup, as D. John had
left it. D. John understood that the proud Doña Ana wished to show by
this means, very typical of the period, the funeral of her love, and so
he accepted it; he drained the cup of wine at a draught and placed it,
mouth downwards, on the table again. As he left the house a duenna,
placed there, no doubt, by her lady, called to him from one of the
grated windows; but D. John never turned his head nor darkened the doors
again.

At this time (March, 1576) the Knight Commander Luis de Requesens died
in Brussels, from a carbuncle on the back, leaving Flanders, by his
death, without a Governor and these States in more danger than ever, as
the Provinces had risen and only Luxemburg remained faithful to Spain.
"It is to be observed," says a famous historian, "that whenever a grave
danger threatened or a state was about to be lost, Philip II turned to
his brother D. John of Austria, and confided to his bravery and talent
the most arduous enterprises and the causes which seemed the most
hopeless, as to one whom he held capable of rectifying what the
imprudence, faults or ill-fortune of others seemed to make difficult or
almost impossible to remedy."

Thus it was now; in this difficulty Philip II named D. John Governor and
Captain-General of the States of Flanders, and until he could arrive to
take up the command, entrusted the government of them absolutely to the
Senate of Flanders. This last fatal advice was given to Philip by
Joachin Oppier, or Hoperus, as others call him, a Fleming who was
Secretary for the affairs of Flanders in Madrid.

D. John's new appointment was secretly opposed by Granvelle from Naples
and by Antonio Pérez in Madrid. The secretary was much perturbed lest
all his efforts to discredit D. John with the King had come to naught;
because, although there was no doubt that distrust had entered and still
existed in Philip's naturally suspicious mind, still the embers required
much fanning to kindle them into a blaze capable of consuming all the
great esteem and confidence evinced by this appointment. So vigorously
did Antonio Pérez fan them that if documents in his own writing did not
prove it, never would it be credited to-day that a man of his astuteness
and talent should have been so blinded by his evil passions as to dare
to write to Philip II that for D. John, thunderbolt of war, victor of
the Moors, terror of the Turk, pacifier of Genoa, and hero of Lepanto,
"a clerical habit would be best suited and orders, so that he should not
go too far or ever be able to transgress."




                               CHAPTER XI


D. John of Austria received the news of his appointment in a letter from
the King, written on the 8th of April, 1576, just as he had sent the
secretary Juan de Escovedo to Rome, having been importuned by further
appeals from Gregory XIII about the English expedition. D. John,
therefore, deferred replying to this letter until the return of the
secretary, presuming with reason that his acceptance or refusal would
depend on the news brought from Rome by Escovedo. This delay, however,
joined to the information he had received of the secretary's journey and
of his interviews with various personages, gave Antonio Pérez an
opportunity of continuing his evil work of setting the King against his
brother. On the 16th of June he wrote with this intention to Philip, "I
am rather worried, Sir, at the way D. John's messenger tarries, because
ours must have arrived forty-two days ago, and I have seen a letter of
the 8th of May, from Naples, from Lorenzo Spinola, in which he answers
those written to him by the post by land and by Santiago; so that more
than twelve or fifteen days have gone by without answering, which is a
great delay, and makes one suspect the affair is being disputed over by
the leagues and congregations there, not that I doubt the obedience of
the Lord D. John, but the delay will cause trouble."

On the margin of this letter Philip replied: "Certainly there is much
delay about this answer and it is very annoying, since I am hoping that
everything will be settled by it, and this delay is very bad for Flemish
matters, principally because I had hoped to send this decision by the
Marqués de Havré; but as the answer does not arrive and he must start, I
am sending someone by whom to forward it, and thus he must go with a
promise, which it will be very undesirable not to fulfil with all
dispatch."

Antonio Pérez narrates, with much cynicism, in his "Relaciones" that the
King ordered him to pretend to favour the plans of Escovedo and D. John,
in order to learn their secrets, if there were any. He needed no command
from Philip to do this; but whether or no he had one, it is certain that
at this date he was already playing this vile part, as the following
letter to Escovedo proves, in which can be seen all the falseness and
perfidy of the man, who a few days previously had been advising the King
to invest D. John with a priest's dress.

    "Truly, Sir, with reference to that of England (the projected
    expedition), about which your Grace was employed in Rome, I
    thought that it would be well for H.H. to be at hand and
    occupied in such serious business for H.M.; the more because I
    wish to see the Lord D. John in some great appointment, in which
    he would be master of all, so that H.M. might know his worth,
    and the good account he would give of such a government, free
    from embarrassment or rivalry of other Ministers; and it is not
    a small thing for H.H. to see himself quit of this."

The King sent D. John of Austria his commission and instructions to
Lombardy, ordering him to go direct from Milan to Flanders with the
haste and caution that the disturbance of these States demanded. But
this, however, was not D. John's idea; he wished, beyond anything, to
come to Spain, and, avoiding the dishonesty of intermediaries, to treat
in person with his brother about the resources on which he might count,
and the soldiers he could dispose of in his new and difficult command;
he wished also to learn D. Philip's schemes about the English
expedition, of which the Nuncio had already spoken to him a second time,
because, although it was D. John's greatest wish, he did not desire to
do anything in the least against his brother's will; and, lastly, he
wanted to plead for his recognition as "Infante," in order to have some
rank which would give him sufficient authority as Governor of Flanders,
also in England, if the expedition took place. So he wrote to Antonio
Pérez announcing his arrival; but the secretary, fearing frank and clear
explanations between the two brothers, as much as the King himself did,
planned, with him, to stop D. John's arrival by this letter from D.
Philip:

[Illustration:

  ANTONIO PÉREZ

  _By Sir Antonio More_
]

    "I sent you a messenger by land ordering you to prevent this,
    and, above all, your coming here, because of the great mistake
    it would be. I wish to repeat here, and to charge you that in
    nowise or for any reason whatever you should come, and when your
    coming will be suitable, nobody will know it or inform you
    better than I."

D. John, however, was so firm in his intention that, without hesitating
even after such a peremptory order, he sent Escovedo on ahead with
letters to announce his coming, and himself embarked at Genoa in a
galley belonging to Marcelo Doria, with another as escort, so as to
arrive at the beginning of September at Barcelona. D. Philip showed his
displeasure by sending the following note to meet him:

    "Last night Escovedo gave me your letter and advised me of your
    arrival at Barcelona, and I cannot help saying that great as is
    the pleasure and wish to have you here, you have taken away much
    of the joy that it will give me."

D. Philip did even more; he was at the Escorial, where he had spent the
summer with his family, and he prolonged his stay later than usual, in
order not to be in Madrid when D. John arrived, bidding Antonio Pérez
receive and lodge him in the latter's celebrated country house "La
Casilla." This is how Antonio Pérez refers to this remarkable incident
in the "Memorial": "And truly I must add here, without waiting to go
into details, that the reason why Antonio Pérez was the host of D. John
in his "Casilla" for a few days was, that the King did not wish to
concede the title of Infante, or refuse it, because hope would give D.
John better heart to settle things in Flanders. It is a usual habit of
princes to obtain fruit from hopes, as it is found in those inspired by
them and is generally wanting when the favour has been granted. And
since D. John had naturally to be in Madrid for his own private affairs
and did not wish to be in a hired house, but in the Palace, as a
beginning of his treatment as Infante, the King resolved not to return
to Madrid until D. John had left for Flanders, so that in this way and
at Antonio Pérez's expense the blow to D. John's hopes should be
disguised."

Accordingly Antonio Pérez set out to meet him, going as far as
Guadalajara, where the Duque del Infantado already awaited D. John,
together with the Duque's brothers D. Rodrigo and D. Diego, the Conde de
Orgaz, the Duque de Medina de Rioseco, and other intimate friends, who
escorted him all that day's journey until they left him at Antonio
Pérez's "Casilla." This was the celebrated villa, the wonder of the
Madrid of that day, which stood on the site at present occupied by the
convent of St. Elizabeth, in the street of the same name. It is now
hardly possible to imagine that it was then surrounded by shady gardens,
big orchards, and by a green, dark wood more than a league in
circumference. The house was large and square, with four towers at the
corners, and its big windows with their beautifully wrought gratings
opened in two symmetrical rows; the entrance was by a great paved
courtyard, in which were rough-stone seats and two cisterns of granite
and many iron rings, in the form of heads of wild beasts, horses and
dogs, fixed in the wall for tieing up animals. The dining-room and rooms
for gaming and diversion were on the right hand; on the left were the
guest chambers, and the front of the house was taken up by a suite of
saloons, furnished as no house belonging to a Grandee in Madrid, was,
with pictures, tapestries, Venetian glass, furniture of precious woods
and massive silver, and thousands of other valuable things which made
the house an object of wonder and gossip for the whole Court: they asked
each other how Antonio Pérez could afford luxury greater than that
displayed by the most powerful Grandee, as he had no fortune either
acquired or inherited, and they whispered about, and even plainly
mentioned, bribes, falsehoods, intrigues, and infamous mean acts, the
truth of which was proved, years afterwards, in the celebrated trial of
the secretary.

It was in the five front rooms that D. John was lodged; they were
furnished with all that was best and richest to be found, and as a
perfidious compliment from the false Pérez to the future King of
England, he placed canopies and attributes of royalty in each of them.
In the first room there was a rich gold and silver tapestry of the
sacrifice of Abraham and a canopy of tawny velvet, adorned with plates
of gold and hammered silver. In another room, arranged for the times
when D. John wished to dine alone, there was a similar tapestry with the
story of Joseph, a canopy and chairs embroidered in different colours,
and a wooden dais with a rich carpet. Then came the ante-room with gold
and silver tapestry, with scenes from the Æneid, and a canopy of gold
and silver embroidered in relief in different colours, and inlaid
writing-tables with their implements of gold and silver beautifully
wrought. The bedroom was next, with tapestry of brocaded green gold
(verde auro), a silk carpet, and tables and chairs of silver; the bed
was also of silver, with angels on the posts holding tablets with this
inscription: "The Lord D. John sleeps. Enter softly." Joining the alcove
was a closet, hung with gold and silver tapestry, which did not reach
the ground, with a bath with perfumes, a dressing-table of silver, and
all the necessary implements of the same metal. All over the house were
scent-burners with different sweet perfumes, even the courtyard held two
of them, under the care of as many lackeys, who perfumed the cloths of
the horses as they came in and out. "And to such lengths," says Luis de
Zapata de Calatayud naïvely, "did his luxury and ostentation reach, that
there was the wherewithal to clean the shoes of those who entered his
house on foot, who did not fail to leave them at the door, as the Moors
do on entering a mosque."




                              CHAPTER XII


Antonio Pérez gave up the "Casilla" to D. John and his household, and
retired with his wife and sons to his other magnificent and sumptuous
house "La Villa," which had belonged to the Conde de Puñonrostro, and
was contiguous to the church of St. Justin (the site now occupied by the
military school). Every day, however, he went to the "Casilla," to pay
his court to D. John and to attend him on his visits, business, and
pleasures. Antonio Pérez wasted no time; he had already on the way from
Guadalajara exaggerated D. Philip's displeasure, and had offered to go
post-haste to the Escorial to try to placate the King with some pretext
which he would invent. This he did as soon as he had installed his
illustrious guest in the "Casilla," and at the Escorial the King and the
secretary decided together that D. John should present himself there as
soon as possible, in order not further to delay his departure for
Flanders, and that Pérez should boast of the friendly act in having
smoothed the annoyance of the King, the more to confirm D. John's
incautious confidence, which Pérez was so treacherously acquiring.

D. Philip received his brother with the greatest affability, and without
making the slightest allusion to the annoyance the coming of D. John had
caused him; he rose on seeing D. John enter the room, and at once gave
his hand to be kissed, embracing him tenderly, and then, what always
happened when the two brothers met face to face, occurred. The ice
melted, suspicion was calmed, and D. John's loyal frankness and lovable
charm penetrated and even overthrew D. Philip's cold reserve. It is
nowhere related that D. John spoke at that time, as he meant to have
done, about his title of Infante: perhaps the artful Pérez had dissuaded
him, or maybe he forebore of his own accord, in view of D. Philip's
determination to organise the English expedition, according to the plans
of Gregory XIII, as soon as Flanders should be pacified. D. Philip's
promises were so clear and definite that it is impossible to believe, as
Antonio Pérez asserts, that it was simply a strategy to animate D. John
by these hopes, without supposing in Philip a falseness and bad faith
capable of sweeping away and treading everything under foot. Because it
was not only D. John who was taken in by this strategy; it was also the
Sovereign Pontiff, the instigator and principal upholder of the English
enterprise, and the English and Scotch lords and all the Catholics in
these kingdoms, who were risking their lives and properties; and it was,
above all, the unlucky Queen of Scots who, deceived by these false
hopes, would lose time and the opportunity for using surer means of
freeing herself from captivity and death.

Moreover, Philip II did not restrict himself to making these promises
privately to D. John, or only by word of mouth; he also made them in
writing in two letters which he sent to him in Flanders. Here are the
two important documents, which should be read with the greatest
attention, because they contain the standard of D. John's loyal conduct
in that appointment.

    "By another, which goes with this, you will see what I think
    about the English business. In this I have desired to tell you
    that the good-will I always have towards you as a brother is
    such and so great that, after the service which I wish to render
    to Our Lord in converting this kingdom to the Catholic religion,
    I wish more than you can estimate, that this should succeed as a
    way in which I can prove how much I love you; and as a sign and
    proof of this, from this moment, I assure you that, the business
    of this kingdom settled, it will be my delight to see you in
    possession of it, marrying you to the Queen of Scotland, if she
    be still alive, freeing her and setting her on her throne, which
    seems to be her desire, and it will be more than due to him who
    has delivered her from all this peril and placed her in freedom
    and possession of her throne; even if your rank and quality were
    not equal to hers, your bravery makes you well deserve each
    other. And though if this happens there are some things to
    settle and agree about, it seems to me useless to do so before
    the time, and it suffices, at present, to tell you, as above,
    what are to be the ways and conditions which seem to me best for
    my service and for the welfare of our affairs and States."

The other letter of the same date, alluded to in the one above, says:

    "Having considered the orders and advice that I gave you
    regarding what should be done for the absolute pacification of
    Flanders, and particularly about removing the Spaniards, if it
    be necessary, and what to do with them, since you left I have
    thought what it would be well to do with these soldiers in that
    case, and whether at this juncture it would be desirable to
    undertake the English affair, representing to myself, on the one
    hand, that no better time could offer for taking the Queen of
    that kingdom unawares and for withdrawing these soldiers from my
    States with honour, and of the great service it would be to Our
    Lord to convert that kingdom to the Catholic religion, and other
    considerations which occurred to me; and, on the other hand, of
    the responsibilities we undertake in beginning, without much
    reason or certainty of success, of the difficulties which may
    arise in this undertaking, and of the great troubles which might
    be caused by upsetting Christendom and all the world. I wished
    to advise you about all I think of this affair and my wishes
    concerning it. First, you must not by any means embark on this
    business until all is quiet and peaceable in those States.
    Moreover, it must be well considered how much the help of the
    English can be counted on in this enterprise, as there is no
    kingdom, however small, that can be gained without the help of
    that kingdom, nor should anyone try to do so. Besides this, we
    must consider whether the said Queen is suspicious about your
    going to those States, and has taken precautions and begun to
    live with greater care for her safety and that of the kingdom,
    because if this were so there would be no use in thinking of the
    business. To allay the said Queen's suspicion and distrust that
    the seeing you in those States may have caused her, it seems to
    me that it would be well to continue to make much of her and to
    be on good terms with her as opportunity offers."

Philip appeared much pleased by his brother's visit to the Escorial,
and, contrary to what he had told Pérez, accompanied him to Madrid on
the 22nd of September, and ordered the prelates of the religious orders
to make public rogations and processions for the success of D. John's
journey and Governorship. D. John took advantage of the days during
which D. Philip lingered over dispatching him to enjoy the company of
his friends, and this he did at the sumptuous suppers which Antonio
Pérez gave daily at the "Casilla," followed by much gambling and picnics
at Los Chorrillos, a delightful spot in the wood, to which the great
ladies of the Court also came. The most sought after of these was the
Princess de Évoli, then a widow, about whose intimacy with Antonio Pérez
people had begun to whisper. This gossip had not yet reached the ears of
D. John, but it was then brought by the Marqués de Fabara, an
ill-natured busybody, who had fought under his orders in the Alpujarras,
and who now followed him about, wishing to be taken to Flanders. The
Marqués said much about the lady's light conduct and the presumption of
the haughty plebeian, and ended by consulting D. John whether as a
relation of the Princess he ought to beat Antonio Pérez or give him a
thrust with his sword. D. John cut him short by saying that he did not
understand questions of casuistry, only war; but what Fabara said made
him remember certain strange familiarities he had noticed between the
secretary and the Princess, on the several visits that he had paid her
in her house in the lane of St. Mary, always accompanied by Pérez. A
simple event happened the next day which ended by convincing him of
these impure loves which were to bring about the terrible drama which
Antonio Pérez was preparing.

In the wood of the "Casilla" there was a delightful place called Los
Chorrillos, from the springs which burst forth there. Antonio Pérez had
built a cottage there, rustic in appearance, but in reality costly and
luxurious, and had made in front of it a wide space, on which cane
jousts could be held, or tilting at the ring, or even bull-fights and
other games of the period. Before D. John left, Antonio Pérez gave a
picnic to the ladies at the Chorrillos, and to amuse and please them the
gentlemen were to tilt at the "estafermo." This game consisted in a big
figure of an armed man, with a shield in his left hand, and in his right
some straps, from which bags of sand hung. The figure was placed on a
pole, above an axle, so that it could turn round; when a rider, coming
at it with his lance couched, struck the shield and made the figure turn
quickly, it gave him a heavy blow with the bags if he were not very
quick; to avoid the blow with dexterity was the first point in the game.

The ladies arrived at the "Casilla," some in coaches, others in litters,
and the humbler ones among them on horseback, all very smart and
accompanied by gallants; at the head of them was the Duquesa de
Infantado, Doña Juana de Coello, the wife of Antonio Pérez, and the
Princess de Évoli. From the "Casilla" to Los Chorillos, a distance of
about half a league, the ladies went in carts prepared by Antonio Pérez;
these were adorned with tapestries and brocades and soft cushions, and
the oxen were caparisoned with crimson and had their horns gilded; the
herdsmen were dressed in shepherd's garb of brocade and fine skins, and
velvet caps, and in their hands were long wands of wood with silver
rings. The gentlemen rode around the carts, going from one to the other
with merry talk and seemly jests. The "estafermo" was erected in the
middle of the ground; it was a grotesque and corpulent warrior, armed
like a Fleming, a caricature of the Prince of Orange, the redoubtable
leader of the rebels in Flanders. And that no one should doubt the
meaning there was written in big letters on the support of the
"estafermo," "The Silent," which was the nickname given to Orange.

It happened that, when tilting at the "estafermo," Honorato de Silva, a
gentleman much liked by D. John, gave such a hard thrust that one of the
bags fell off and by ill-luck knocked Antonio Pérez on the head, who
fell, stunned and unconscious from the blow. Everyone was upset; they
carried him to the rustic cottage, and the first fright over went back
to the game, laughing over the violence of the Prince of Orange. Antonio
Pérez remained resting in a little room apart. After a long while D.
John went to see him; at the door he met one of the Princess de Évoli's
duennas, named Doña Bernardina, sitting on a bench. She was much
perturbed at seeing him and wished to prevent his entering, saying that
the Lord Antonio was asleep; but as at that moment D. John heard
laughing behind the curtain, the duenna darted into the room to give
warning; unfortunately, as she lifted the curtain, D. John could plainly
see Antonio Pérez lying on a low sofa and the Princess de Évoli kneeling
before him, and with great liveliness, amid the laughter of both,
putting medicated cloths on his head, which she wetted in a silver bowl
placed on the ground. D. John pretended to have seen nothing, neither
did he dare confide the matter to anyone for fear of showing up the
weakness of a lady and the peccadilloes of a friend. But many months
later, away in Flanders, while he was talking one day to Escovedo about
certain demands of the Princess de Évoli, which the secretary wished to
grant, he was obliged, in order to convince Escovedo of the
shamelessness of the case, to tell him of Fabara's gossip and the scene
at the Chorrillos. D. John himself thus, unconsciously, unchained the
winds of the terrible storm of reproaches, hatred and shame in which
Escovedo perished.

The King arranged D. John's journey with great caution and mystery, to
prevent his departure being known in Flanders, lest they should guard
against his coming. He set out at the end of October, without saying
farewell to anyone, and, as the story goes, went to the Escorial to
return again to Madrid, where Escovedo awaited him, arranging with the
Treasurer Garnica the necessary funds for paying the troops in Flanders.
At the Escorial D. John took leave of his suite, and with only Octavio
Gonzaga and Honorato de Silva went by post to Abrojo, where he was
expected by Doña Magdalena de Ulloa. D. John had written to tell her he
had prepared for the visit "a ceremonial which delights your Grace, as
you are so holy, and for the great love you have for me, the like of
which certainly I have never found or ever shall find in my life."

This "ceremonial" which D. John had arranged was one of the proofs of
his tender affection, knowing the highly religious feelings of the noble
lady. The day of his arrival he confessed fully to the old Fr. Juan de
Calahorra, and on the next, in the Prior's private oratory, he
communicated humbly and devoutly at Doña Magdalena's side, partaking of
the same wafer as she did, as on the first occasion of his approaching
the holy table, led by the hand of Doña Magdalena, twenty years before,
away in Villagarcia. Tears of quiet joy streamed over the old lady's
wrinkled cheek, as she understood that in this way D. John wished to
show her that his faith and his love for her were unchanged, and tears
also ran down the face of the hero of Lepanto as he reflected that,
although his faith and filial love were unaltered, yet that he could not
kneel by the side of that saintly woman wearing, as before, the white
stole of innocence, but rather the rough, dark sackcloth of penitence.

Then he gave her several Bulls and briefs obtained by him from the Roman
Pontiff, conceding graces and privileges to the church and house of the
Jesuits, founded by Doña Magdalena at Villagarcia, and the drawings of
the beautiful alabaster "retablo" representing the Passion of Our Lord,
which he had ordered for the same church, in which lay buried "his uncle
and father Luis Quijada," and in which a sepulchre for Doña Magdalena
was open and ready. Too soon for everyone came the moment of departure.
D. John was to make the rest of the journey disguised as the servant of
Octavio Gonzaga, and for this purpose donned a coat of brown homespun, a
cap of the same, and high boots of Cordovan leather; he also wished to
cut off his moustaches but Doña Magdalena cried out against this
profanation of D. John's manly beauty and the sacrifice of those fair
hair, she had seen slowly grow. She offered herself to stain his hair
and beard black with some dye he had brought, and did so, taking great
pains, holding D. John's head in her lap as when he was a child, amid
peals of laughter on his part and no small amusement and tenderness on
hers. Her work finished, Doña Magdalena contemplated it, and thought D.
John as comely as a black-haired servant as he was as a fair-haired
Prince, and, smiling complacently, she said, half pleased and half
nervous, "It must be a very obtuse person that Y.H. takes in—they will
all say, 'Under this sackcloth there is ——'"

Doña Magdalena mounted a tower on the wall which surrounded Abrojo, to
see the last of him, with Fr. Juan de Calahorra, the Prior, and the
other monks, and, bathed in tears, to watch him turn his head and smile
at the last bend of the road, her kind heart not guessing that he was
disappearing for ever, that she would never see him again, and that in
less than two years all this youth, gallantry and greatness would be
dust, and that this deep, pure love would be nothing but a memory in her
old age.




                              CHAPTER XIII


D. John of Austria wished to make up for his delay in starting by the
haste with which he accomplished the journey, and so rapidly did he make
it, and so arduous was it, that with his usual good humour he could with
reason write to his great friends the Conde de Orgaz and D. Rodrigo de
Mendoza, "Octavio is very stiff, and the same would your lordships have
been, if you had slept as little, hurried as much, and gone through all
that we have, which made us often call out, Ah! D. Rodrigo! Ah! Conde de
Orgaz!"

On the 20th of October he wrote to the King from Ventosa; and again on
the 24th from Irun, to announce that he was crossing the frontier alone
with Octavio Gonzaga, as he had left Honorato de Silva ill at
Fuenterrabia. On the 31st, at six in the morning, he wrote from Paris,
complaining of the dreadful roads and bad horses, and of having
journeyed two days with a French merchant, who had given him his trunk
to carry for three stages, being quite taken in by his disguise of
servant. On the 3rd of November they at last reached Luxemburg at night,
from where he wrote first to the Council in Brussels, which held the
temporary Government, representing the Senate, and afterwards to the
Spanish soldiers, notifying them of his arrival and the command he
brought from the King. He wrote also to D. Philip, telling him of the
dreadful disorder of these provinces, of the complete isolation of his
servants, friends and partisans, and the difficulties which offered
themselves with regard to handing over the command to him.

In truth, the arrival of D. John could not have been at a more difficult
or dangerous time. On the 3rd of November, the day he first trod Flemish
soil, Antwerp was taken, and its horrible sack by the Spanish and German
troops took place. These furious and mutinous men then took in a cruel
and evil way the pay which the Council of Brussels maliciously held back
from them. The Council, terrified, authorised all citizens to arm
themselves, and ordered the expulsion of all foreign troops from the
States. At this juncture D. John's letters reached the Council in
Brussels and the victorious and mutinous troops at Antwerp. These obeyed
at once, laying down their arms as their beloved and respected General
ordered, and there was great rejoicing among them that he had come as
Governor and Captain-General. But the Council was divided within itself,
some refusing to hand over the command to D. John; others feared such
disobedience against the authority of the King, and they were only
agreed in asking the advice of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, the
oracle and shrewd instigator of all these more or less disguised rebels.

The answer of Orange was precise: liberty bought at the price of so much
blood could not be given up by making over the command to D. John of
Austria; and if the Council lacked the courage to retain it, they were
first "with pride and arrogance" to exact from D. John that he would
confirm on oath the "Pacification of Ghent," one of whose articles was
the expulsion of all foreign troops from Flemish soil. This
"Pacification of Ghent" was in itself an act of rebellion and
independence, for it was resolved upon at a peace conference between the
Prince of Orange and the Council of Brussels, as provisional Government,
in the name of the King, but without the knowledge or authority of
Philip II.

The Council agreed to the latter part of Orange's answer, not having the
courage to oppose D. John openly, and sent it to him by the senator
Iskio; but couched in such haughty and insolent language that the
ambassador was in difficulties, not knowing which to fear the more—the
wrath of the Senate, if he refused to take it, or the anger of D. John,
if he did. He took counsel of a guest in his house, who said, "Take my
advice, Iskio, for this Gordian knot use the sword of Alexander: when
you are alone with the Austrian, draw the steel with dexterity, and bury
it in the body of this man who is fraudulent and baneful to Flanders. By
his death you will free yourself from his annoyance, and will be certain
of the thanks of the States." Iskio understood with horror that this was
the general wish in Flanders, and resolved to take the message to D.
John on his own account, softening its terms as much as possible. But
such was the dignity and politeness of D. John in giving his refusal,
and such the graciousness of his reception of Iskio, understanding his
good intentions, that the messenger, completely subjugated and full of
enthusiasm, warmly praised D. John to the Senate when he returned to
Brussels, which brought him insults and bad treatment from many, and,
over-excited by such conflicting emotions, in a few days he went mad.

His arguments, however, had impressed the Council, and they decided to
send D. John a second message by John Funk, this time a very respectful
and courteous one, begging him to deign to ratify the "Peace of Ghent."
D. John answered with equal politeness that he must have time to think
it over and to study thoroughly the eighteen articles of the said
convention: he suspected that there might be something against the
Catholic religion, and wished to submit it to the opinion of
theologians. D. John was also very perplexed about the expulsion of the
Spanish troops, and on this subject asked the opinion of the only two
confidential advisers he had there, Octavia Gonzaga and Juan de
Escovedo.

Gonzaga replied at once without hesitation, as a man full of an idea who
takes the opportunity of displaying it, that he thought that it was
neither prudent nor seemly to send away the Spanish regiments; it was
not seemly, as the Governor was the King's representative, and he should
submit to no conditions save those imposed by the King; it was not
prudent, because once the soldiers had left Flanders, the royal
authority and the person of D. John, who represented it, would be
helpless, alone and without support in this country of shameless rebels,
secret enemies and lukewarm friends who could, with impunity, laugh at
the one and ruin the other whenever they wished. Escovedo, on the other
hand, thought that the Spanish regiments should leave Flanders as soon
as possible, because the King wished for peace at all costs, giving in
to everything which was not against religion or the royal authority; and
the expulsion of the Spaniards was against neither the one nor the
other, and was necessary to obtain peace in the actual state of affairs.
It also seemed to him that the noble confidence with which D. John
placed himself in the hands of the Flemings would oblige them the more
to act loyally, and in the opposite case that Gonzaga imagined, they
were not so badly off for German troops that they would not be able to
resist, nor the Spaniards so far off that they could not return there in
time. Escovedo also urged secretly, and pressed D. John with this other
argument; if, as the Council believed, the expulsion of the Spanish
regiments would assure the peace of Flanders, they could at once
undertake the expedition to England and use these famous and dreaded
troops, as Philip II remarked in a letter written from the Pardo which
D. John received from him just then.

D. John pondered over and weighed these arguments. He could clearly see
that Gonzaga was thinking of the dignity of Spain and Escovedo of his
own golden dream, the expedition to England, and he did not dare to
decide for himself, fearing lest his own wish and feelings should carry
him away, so he loyally submitted it for Philip II to decide. At the
same time he sent the opinions of four Bishops, twelve Abbots, fourteen
theologians eminent in offices and dignities, nine doctors and
professors, and five jurists of Louvain, that there was nothing
prejudicial to religion or the royal authority in the eighteen articles
of the "Peace of Ghent."

Meanwhile deputations of the clergy and nobility of those parts, who
publicly acknowledged themselves loyal to Spain and Philip II, came to
welcome D. John in Luxemburg, and these also urged that the Spanish
troops should be dismissed as soon as possible, adding arguments and
proposals, warnings, and presumptuous, even rude advice, which clearly
showed to what an extent the very name of Spain was distasteful and even
hated in Flanders. On one of these deputations came the Bishop of Arras,
with the Baron of Liquerque and the Marquis de Havré, who was brother to
the Duke of Arschot and had been to Spain several times, and to whom
Philip had shown much favour and proof of confidence. When the Marquis
saw that his companions were amusing themselves or pretending to do so
at the end of the room, he took D. John apart to the opposite end, and
there point-blank, without fear of God or respect for himself, proposed
that _he (D. John) should rise with all and rule over the States, and
they would help him_. The shame and anger which showed in D. John's face
cut the speech short, and mechanically he put his hand to his dagger,
according to what Vander Hammen and Porreño say, referring to this deed
of D. John's, "That, not being able to suffer this blow, which touched
his fidelity to the quick, he drew out his dagger and wounded him with
great indignation."

D. John was more heroic than this, as, from prudence and loyalty to the
King, he was silent and swallowed the affront; and thus Escovedo refers
to it in a letter to the King, written on the 21st of January, 1577:
"And to advise Y.M. that Y.M. should see what good and loyal vassals
Y.M. has here, and how much they love you. Know that the Marquis de
Havré, on his own part and that of others, tempted the Lord D. John,
offering all this for himself, and that he should not lose the chance,
and although he tried to change the subject, pretending not to
understand, he was so bold and shameless that he repeated it. He
answered that God save Y.M., that they had a very good King, and that it
would not be well for them to alter, and he swore to me that he was
moved to box his ears, and that he would have done so, if it would not
have done harm to the main business."

D. John speaks of the matter in a very veiled way in one of his letters
to D. Rodrigo de Mendoza:

    "Lately came a deputation and embassy from the States, among
    others the Marquis de Havré, strangely without shame and respect
    even, since he openly spoke of everything, trusting everything
    and everybody without any respect, as I say."

At last Philip's reply arrived, ordering D. John to sign, without demur,
the "Pacification of Ghent," and to send the Spanish regiments at once
away from Flanders. D. John felt greatly humiliated and discouraged,
because before sending away the regiments it was necessary to pay them,
and D. Philip did not mention this or send any money whatever.




                              CHAPTER XIV


Amid the struggles and anxieties which caused D. John to know contempt
and humiliations for the first time, he had one pleasure, which, in
spite of there being much to embitter it, must still have been a great
one, that of making the acquaintance of his mother, and of embracing her
for the first and last time. No sooner had he arrived in Luxemburg than
he wrote to her at Ghent, where she then was, inviting her to come and
see him, as he could not, as he ought to do, visit her at that moment;
and as the cold, shallow Barbara Blombergh neither came nor answered the
letter, he sent a second message, this time accompanied by everything
necessary for her to perform the journey in a suitable and comfortable
way. She came, and the mother and the son met. We do not know what she
felt on finding herself in the presence of this brilliant and renowned
son, who up to now had inspired her with nothing but indifference. As to
D. John, apart from the natural love and respect due to her name of
mother, she made a disagreeable impression on him, perhaps because his
ideals of mothers and widows were formed on the austere and refined
model of that great lady Doña Magdalena de Ulloa.

Barbara Blombergh was then over fifty, and she preserved traces of her
great beauty, which she tried to enhance with cosmetics and fine
clothes, unsuited to her age or situation. She, however, lacked that
inborn distinction and dignity which then, even more than now,
characterised ladies of noble lineage; because education, which to-day
refines, polishes and levels manners to a certain extent, belonged then
exclusively to dames of high degree. Barbara Blombergh certainly did not
belong to this privileged class, although several historians have
asserted it, in order to exalt D. John's maternal descent. She was
simply a girl of the middle class, daughter of a citizen of Ratisbon of
moderate fortune. Three years after the birth of D. John she married
Jerome Kegel, who was not a noble gentleman either, but a poor "hére,"
as Gachard calls him, who for a humble position at the Court of Queen
Mary, the Regent of Flanders, compromised himself by giving her his name
and sheltering her dishonour.

Madam Blombergh, as from this time she began to call herself, was left a
widow in June, 1569, and then it was that her cold, shallow, hard,
extravagant and ungenerous character began to show itself freely. "As
vapid as obstinate," said the Duque de Alba. But what is really
surprising about her is the indifference that she always showed for her
son D. John, who by the greatness of his name would have seemed called
to be her glory and pride, and by his love, respect and solicitude for
her, her delight and good fortune. In the Alba archives there is a
letter from D. John to his mother, the only one known, which begins in
this way: "Lady, it is many days since I had news of you, which worries
me, having written and begged, last from Messina, that you should always
remember to advise me about your health and of what is your pleasure, as
besides the obligation I am under to procure it for you as your son, I
also much wish to give it to you, being certain that I owe it to the
good mother and lady you are to me." Compare this letter with another
from D. John to Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, and it will be plainly seen
that if Barbara Blombergh was in fact his mother, the one who responded
to his filial affections was the illustrious widow of Luis Quijada:
"Lady, I kiss your hands for the trouble you take in always answering my
letters, but principally because what I wish is to hear continually of
your health and welfare."

When Kegel died D. John begged Philip II to come to his mother's
assistance, and the King sent the Duque de Alba, then Governor of the
Low Countries, to visit Madam Blombergh, and to suggest to her that,
having such a son as hers in Spain, she should make her residence there.
Madam Blombergh replied that although, doubtless, she would much like to
see her son, it was of no use talking to her about going to Spain, for
she well knew the way women were shut up there, and wild horses would
not make her go to such a country. Philip II then gave her an income of
4944 florins, with which she installed herself with a luxury and parade
it was impossible to support on these means. Her household consisted of
a duenna and six waiting-maids, a steward, two pages, a chaplain, a
butler, four servants, and a coach with all its paraphernalia of grooms
and horses. She then began the gay, but not very decorous, life of
festivities and banquets which caused the warnings and complaints of the
Duque de Alba, and first the admonitions and later the violent measures
of Philip II, which, however, on account of the political disturbances,
could not be carried out until the arrival of D. John in Flanders. This
made Barbara Blombergh's departure more than ever necessary, so as not
to compromise the authority of D. John at this difficult moment by her
frivolities and imprudences. But as neither by prayers nor by wise
persuasion could he overcome his mother's invincible obstinacy about
going to Spain, he resolved to use the stratagem he had devised long ago
with his brother Philip II.

He told her that his sister Donna Margarita of Austria much wished to
know her, and had invited her to spend a few months at the palace of
Aquila in the Abruzzi. This invitation from such a personage as the
Duchess of Parma gratified Madam Blombergh immensely, and she accepted
at once, only bargaining to settle afterwards to live where she wished.
D. John agreed, and Madam Blombergh set out for Italy with all her
household the middle of March, 1577. As extra steward D. John sent a
confidential person called Pero Sánchez, who was used to travelling, and
who carried secret instructions. On arriving at Genoa they found a
luxurious galley which Pero Sánchez said was ready to carry them to
Naples, and thence they could journey overland to the Abruzzi. Without
any mistrust the embarkation was made, and after a disagreeable voyage
of some days' duration they sighted the grey mountains of Vizcaya, so
different from the blue Neapolitan coast, where they thought to arrive.
The galley had gone to Spain and was at Laredo.

[Illustration:

  AUTOGRAPH OF BARBARA BLOMBERGH

  _From a photograph by Lacoste_
]

Barbara Blombergh was met at this port by Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, who
had been warned of her advent by D. John, and at San Cebrian de Mazote
she was awaited by Doña Magdalena's brother and sister-in-law, the
Marqueses de la Mota, who wished to help the illustrious widow of Luis
Quijada over this difficult meeting. In truth it needed all Doña
Magdalena's tact, patience, and love for D. John to tame the furious
wild beast who was disembarked at Laredo on the 3rd of May in the form
of Barbara Blombergh. Doña Magdalena took her at once to the castle of
San Cebrian de Mazote, where the Marqués de la Mota and his wife
received her very kindly, and entertained her splendidly, and such pains
did the good and discreet Doña Magdalena take, that in the three and a
half months Madam Blombergh was with her, the angry, wild animal was
changed into a gentle lamb, and when the hour of farewell came she
herself asked to retire to the Dominican convent of Santa Maria la Real,
in the village of San Cebrian, where Doña Magdalena had prepared for her
a comfortable, separate apartment, so that she could go in and out.

From the 3rd of May, 1577, when she disembarked at Laredo, until the end
of July, 1579, when, after D. John's death, Philip II gave her an income
of 3000 ducats, all the expenses of Barbara Blombergh were borne by Doña
Magdalena de Ulloa. This is shown, without any shadow of doubt, by the
paper presented by this lady in the testamentary accounts of D. John of
Austria, which exists in the Alba archives, signed and with this label:

"That which I, Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, have paid in virtue of two
letters from the Very Serene D. John of Austria, God rest his soul, one
dated from Louvain the 23rd of April, 1577, the other from Brussels the
4th of July of the same year, about the expenses of Madam Blombergh his
mother, also arranging her apartment and her ordinary expenses, and her
extraordinary personal ones, servants and wages and clothes and other
things, some furniture indispensable and necessary for her use, the
which I gave over to her servants, and that which I gave for this is the
following."

    A detailed account of the money made over to Madam Blombergh and
    her stewards follows, divided into thirty-six items; then comes
    the reimbursement by the same Doña Magdalena in three items by
    the hand of Melchor de Camago, Juan de Escovedo, and Antonio
    Pérez, and this curious document concludes by making the
    following balance and protest: "So what I have paid by order of
    His Highness, according to the said letters relating to the
    building of the house and other things belonging to it, and
    providing for the said house and servants of the said Madam his
    mother, comes to one million three hundred and forty thousand
    one hundred and ninety-two maravedis, which as I have said in
    the items by God and my conscience I gave over to Madam and her
    servants, and what I have received on account of this amounts to
    nine hundred and seventeen thousand and eighty-eight maravedis:
    so that it is more than the goods of the said Lord D. John by
    four hundred and twenty-two thousand and five hundred and four
    maravedis; and I certify that the account and items, of the
    receipt as of the fact, by my conscience are certain and true,
    and that the said amount is due to me, and I have not received
    it, nor has anything been given to me on account, and this being
    true, I sign this with my hand and with my name, this date at
    Valladolid, fourteenth of July, one thousand five hundred and
    eighty-two."

                                              "DOÑA MAGDALENA DE ULLOA."

Thus it is proved that D. John, helped by Doña Magdalena, provided
everything necessary for his mother until his last hour; and when he was
dying he commended her to his brother D. Philip through his confessor P.
Dorante, for which reason Philip II granted her an income of 3000 ducats
for her life. No sooner was D. John dead, however, than Madam Blombergh
presented a memorial to the King, claiming D. John's estate as sole and
lawful heiress. This was granted to her without hesitation, as D. John
had no private property, and his debts amounted to much more than the
value of the jewels and furniture he possessed.

Barbara Blombergh lived peaceably at the convent of Santa Maria la Real
for several years; but as regularity and quietness were not her strong
point, she became bored, and begged Philip II to move her to some other
place. As the house of the unfortunate Escovedo at Colindres was at
Philip's disposal at that time, she retired there, and there died the
same year as Philip (1598), leaving directions that she was to be buried
at the Franciscan convent in the town of Escalante.

By her marriage with Jerome Kegel Barbara Blombergh had two sons. The
younger drowned himself in a cistern in his own house, eight days after
his father's death; the elder, who was named Conrad, took the name of
Pyramus, which his father bore, joined to that of Kegel. He began to
study for the Church, well supplied with funds by D. John, at whose
death he abandoned these studies, owing to his love of arms. He joined
the army, being helped by Alexander Farnese, and became a colonel. He
married the Baroness de St. Martin, and died before his mother, during
whose lifetime his widow came to Spain, and died there; but where or
when we do not know.




                               CHAPTER XV


D. John of Austria at last signed the "Peace of Ghent," called the
"Perpetual Edict," on the 14th of February, 1577, with his heart full of
shame and depression. He was full of shame, because it was humiliating
for Spain, for his King, and for himself as Philip's representative to
give in to the rude and insolent demands of that band of rebels and
dissembling heretics; and it depressed him, because, in signing the
paper, he destroyed with a stroke of the pen, for a doubtful gain, the
brilliant hope of his golden and chivalrous dream—the expedition to
England.

At that moment the key of the situation of the whole expedition was the
departure of the Spanish regiments from Flanders. D. John could send
them along the coast of Holland, and from there descend on England,
where everything was ready for their reception. But the Prince of
Orange, afraid lest these redoubtable soldiers should approach the two
provinces he had usurped, Holland and Zeeland, vigorously opposed the
plan of embarkation, and prevailed on the States to inform D. John, with
their usual rudeness, that the troops should not leave by being embarked
on the north, but should march towards Italy. A violent altercation took
place between the Council in Brussels and D. John, and all the
negotiations that had been made were on the point of being broken off,
because D. John was at the end of his patience, and the Council at the
limit of the insolence with which they endeavoured to tire and
exasperate him. But Philip, frightened lest the peace, which was his
only desire, should be endangered, stopped the quarrel by ordering D.
John to dispatch the troops by land, as the States wished.

D. John bowed his head and signed the "Perpetual Edict," thus
sacrificing by his obedience the hopes of a kingdom, then more than ever
well founded, as Monsignor Filippo Sega, Bishop of Ripa Trazone, had
just arrived at Luxemburg, sent to Flanders by Gregory XIII as Nuncio to
D. John. The ostensible object of the mission was to counsel and guide
him, that in his treaties with the heretics there should be nothing
prejudicial to the Catholic Church; but in reality it came to give him
the Bulls from Gregory XIII, conceding him the kingdom of England, and
to give him the 50,000 golden crowns which the Pope sent to help the
enterprise, and offering 5000 well-armed infantry which the Holy See
would provide, and which only waited for D. John's signal to start for
England. This unhoped-for assistance from the Pope, joined to the news
from the English and Scotch lords that everything was ready, promised
such success to the expedition that it made it all the harder and more
disappointing to give it up.

All the same, D. John sacrificed his hopes just as they were coming
true, and thus cruelly humbled his own personal pride, and smothered his
own legitimate aspirations, in order to obey the King, his brother,
loyally; and without loss of time he ordered the Spanish regiments to
assemble at Maestricht, to leave Flanders for Italy. It happened, as D.
John had foreseen, that the troops obeyed, because it was he who ordered
them; but they did so murmuring against the King, grumbling at the way
he treated them, promising that very soon he would call for them again,
and claiming, with great justice, their overdue pay before leaving.

D. John then found himself in a fresh quandary; the States, who should
have paid the troops, refused to pay more than a third part of what was
due, and, by an unreasonableness which showed their bad faith, at the
same time refused to acknowledge D. John as Governor, or give him the
command so long as the troops did not leave Flanders. On the other hand,
in spite of D. John's repeated petitions and Escovedo's violent letters,
no money came from Spain, nor could D. John have found, by begging in
all the exchanges and banks, any to lend him the necessary sum, because
the King of Spain's credit was very bad in Flanders.

In this difficulty D. John told Monsignor Sega, and, showing him all the
trouble of the situation, asked him to lend the 50,000 golden crowns
destined by Gregory XIII for the unlucky expedition to England, to pay
the soldiers, pledging his word and oath, in the name of his brother,
that they should be quickly and surely returned. Escovedo was able to
negotiate, for his part, by pledging his credit and oath, for the rest
of the amount that remained to pay off this dangerous debt, at the cost
of D. John's hopes and the self-denial of the secretary. By these means
the famous troops at last left Flanders for Italy, commanded by the
Count de Mansfeld, amid the great rejoicing of the Flemish rebels, who
then saw the coast clear for the further treasons they were plotting.

This put an end to the pretext for not receiving D. John and making over
the command to him, and he was proclaimed Governor at Louvain amid a
crowd of gentlemen, and the real joy of some and the false and feigned
enthusiasm of the rest. From there he went to Brussels, in spite of the
fact that the loyal Count of Barlaimont warned him that they were
conspiring against his life and liberty. He came in sight of the city on
the 4th of May, and an hour before his entry an insurrection broke out,
promoted by the followers of the Prince of Orange. One Cornelius
Straten, a known agent and leader of highwaymen, began to harangue the
crowd, telling them that they should not let the Austrian traitor enter
Brussels, who, with falseness and deceit, was bringing them death. Upon
this a mass of riotous people dashed towards the gates of the city,
overthrowing the guards, and lowered the portcullis. The magistrates
arrived in haste, and, arresting Straten, quieted the tumult and cleared
the gates. D. John arrived a few minutes later, calm and quiet, showing
his bravery and greatness by dismissing his guard of halberdiers, as a
proof of his confidence in the people. This is how Famiano Strada refers
to D. John's entry into Brussels and his first acts as Governor:

    "But the Austrian, at the time the Spaniards left, entered
    Brussels with extraordinary pomp, between the Pontiff's delegate
    and the Bishop of Liége and a complete deputation of all the
    States. It was he who made the brilliance of the show, with his
    debonair person—he was not thirty-two—laden with fame and
    triumphs by land and sea, and with these adornments representing
    his father, the Cæsar Charles, beloved and popular name among
    Flemings. Having solemnly sworn at the beginning of his
    government, he started to fulfil these promises with incredible
    clemency, rare affability, and all sorts of kindnesses, and an
    unheard-of liberality, exercised towards those who had the least
    claim, to such an extent that the citizens, attracted by his
    gentle bearing, forgetting their first ideas, and how much they
    had said against him, outbid each other in praising him,
    principally for having seen him one day without the foreign
    militia, and they congratulated themselves that the Austrian had
    brought its former happiness back to Flanders."

Philip II wrote to thank D. John for his trouble, very pleased with his
conduct, and letting him plainly understand that there was no reason for
definitely giving up the English plan.

    "On the 14th of last month," he says, "I told you of the arrival
    of Concha, and of the receipt of the dispatches which he
    brought, and how pleased I was to learn the good state of
    affairs through the arrangement you have made with the States,
    and the satisfaction everything you have done has given me, and
    this to the extent that I do not content myself with what I
    wrote then, without again thanking you for it, and certifying
    that it has given me such satisfaction, that, although nothing
    could add to the love I have for you, the desire to prove to you
    how much I esteem your work, and the fruit and success which has
    followed from it in all the business of my service, that I shall
    praise you more each day, and my care will grow for all that
    concerns you, knowing that every day you are putting me under
    fresh obligations by remaining in the same cares and work as
    heretofore, in order that the affairs of these States may become
    settled, and that which is best for the service of God and my
    service may be established; and although what you have done
    hitherto is much, what is before you is indescribably more. And
    as I know this, you may believe that it gratifies me much to
    show you the good-will which I have towards you in all that
    occurs, and that things will go on in such a way that that of
    England will be effected."

In the next line, and as if it were a means of arriving at this
conquest, so desired by D. John, he insinuates his approval of the new
and strange plans, invented by we know not whom, of substituting the
marriage of D. John and Mary Stuart, which would cost blood and money,
for that of D. John with Elizabeth of England, to which she seemed
inclined.

    "As to the marriage with the Queen of England, what I can tell
    you is that if in this way and with this view it could be
    treated of and brought about, it would be doing a great service
    and sacrifice to Our Lord, converting this kingdom to the
    Catholic Religion, which is in itself such an honour and glory
    that nothing can surpass it."

But D. John did not desire to be King of England by any and every means,
but by those of justice and nobleness, conquering the kingdom with his
sword, setting the lawful Queen, Mary Stuart, at liberty, and sharing
her throne by her own wish. He therefore protested against this short
cut of ignominy, which would lead him peaceably to the English throne,
with no more exertion than that of joining his fate to that of a
usurper, by her own apostasy and vices the scandal of Europe. "The
favours the Queen of England is everywhere conferring," answered D. John
to his brother, "are not so unimportant as to be disregarded and steps
not taken to prevent them; as the world is so full already of heretics,
she has very efficient ministers everywhere. It is natural to those whom
God rejects to take much thought for things here, and thus does this
unhappy Queen and her followers, of whose life and morals I have heard
and hear so much, _that I do not care to jest even about marrying her_."

The summer was drawing on, and the letters from Madrid began to grow
fewer in a strange way, and nothing was said in them of the absolute
want of money, or of the loans which D. John and Escovedo had raised,
pledging their own word and credit, until at last D. John decided to
send the secretary to Rome, and from there to Spain, to tell Gregory
XIII everything about the English expedition, and to require from the
King the prompt acknowledgment and repayment of the debt contracted with
the Pope, and of the letters honoured by Escovedo, compromising his
credit and honour.

Escovedo set out at the beginning of July, and D. John said good-bye to
him at Mechlin, little thinking he was sending him to be treacherously
killed by a sword-thrust in a lane at Madrid.




                              CHAPTER XVI


There was so much brave daring in D. John's act of entering alone a
country, for the most part rebel and not a little heretical, his Spanish
troops already dismissed, and without other guards than the Duke of
Arschot's Flemings, that the Prince of Orange and his followers were
amazed and understood that nothing would stop D. John if he were not
deprived of life or liberty. They determined, therefore, to effect one
or the other, and the numerous agents of Orange, helped by those of the
Queen of England, went about the country spreading clever calumnies
against him, to prepare the way, maliciously interpreting all his acts
and gradually making him and his government hated. Faithful to the
policy of peace which had been enjoined on him, D. John wished to confer
with Orange, and sent the Duke of Arschot to tell him that the Provinces
of Holland and Zeeland were the only two which had not signed the
"Perpetual Edict," and as they were under his command D. John confided
this task to him. Orange then threw off that mask, which had gained for
him the surname of "Silent," and with which he had covered his ambitions
and mischievous designs, and answered Arschot that Holland and Zeeland
would never sign the "Perpetual Edict," as both these provinces were
Calvinistic and neither would promise to keep the Roman faith, and
taking off his hat and showing his bald head, he said to the Duke, with
a smile, "You see my head is bald (calva)! Then know that it is not more
so than my heart." This play upon words signified that the traitor meant
he was also a Calvinist, and his apostasy being now known, all hopes of
agreement were at an end. In truth, Orange continued his infamous war of
calumnies and perfidious intrigues against D. John even more openly from
this time, and with the greatest effrontery as also all that he had
hitherto done in secret to the Catholic Church in the provinces of
Holland and Zeeland: persecuting the clergy, expelling monks and nuns,
destroying temples and altars, melting bells to make cannon,
confiscating ecclesiastical revenues for his own purse or those of his
partisans, and from the pulpits of Catholic churches making heretic
ministers preach the doctrines of Calvin. At such impious insolence D.
John proposed to the States to join their troops with those of the King,
and make war on Orange and seize the provinces he had usurped; but the
States put off his proposal with such shallow excuses that D. John could
easily see that mutual and secret confidence existed between them and
Orange. Meanwhile, in Brussels, the want of confidence and even the
hatred which the agents and partisans of Orange the Silent had sown
against the Austrian, grew more and more. These men became so barefaced
that they wore special caps and medals with allusive letters, and the
authorities and deputies became so arrogant that they ordered D. John to
be called the Magistrate of Brussels, as if he were what we should now
call the Mayor. He answered that they must come and see him, because it
was not usual for the Magistrate to hear anyone outside the Hôtel de
Ville.

The solemn festivity which the magistrates were accustomed to hold in
the Hôtel de Ville, a banquet, always presided over by the
Governor-General, was about to take place. D. John received several
warnings not to attend it, as something was being contrived against his
person; but he, even more afraid of showing that he distrusted the
magistrates, came to occupy his place, accompanied by eighty musketeers
of his guard, who had orders that, happen what might, they were to wound
nobody. Half-way through the banquet a crowd of seditious people
attacked the Hôtel de Ville, intending to enter by force, uttering
insults and threats against the Austrian. The musketeers drove them back
without wounding any, but many of them were hurt. D. John retired with
those who remained uninjured, leaving the magistrates to deal with the
guilty ones, but they overlooked this and let them go free, to show D.
John that they did not consider an affront to his person worth
punishing. Then it came to D. John's knowledge that the Baron of Hesse
and Count de Lalaing, with two other great lords, confirmed heretics,
had assembled one night in the house of another noble, and had arranged
with the English ambassador and more than 500 neighbours to take D. John
at the first opportunity and to kill him if he resisted. They thought
that the procession of the Holy Sacrament, called in Brussels the
"Miracle," might afford a good one. It took place on the 3rd of July and
was always presided over by the Governor-General. D. John did not wish
to break with the States, who were consenting to all this, and preferred
to avoid the danger by going to Mechlin on the pretence of settling the
pay of the German troops, who were asking for their money, which was in
arrears. But his friends did not think him safe there and so they told
him; because the conspirators, furious at their prey having escaped
them, armed the militia and took the road to Luxemburg, which was a
quiet place where D. John and Alexander Farnese could take refuge, and
to which the Spanish troops could return. With great patience D. John
thought it wise still to dissimulate, and found another plausible excuse
for leaving Mechlin and not returning to Brussels and getting nearer to
a strong and safe place. He went to Namur, very quietly and calmly, to
receive the Queen of Navarre, Margaret of Valois, who was passing in
order to take the waters of Spa at Liége. This lady was the celebrated
Queen Margot, first wife of Henry IV of France, then at the summit of
her vaunted beauty and in the waxing period of her coquetry, which at
last degenerated, as it generally does, into shameless and complete
dissoluteness.

Queen Margot entered Namur on the 24th of July in a litter entirely made
of glass, a present from D. John of Austria. The glass of the litter was
engraved with forty verses in Spanish and Italian, all alluding to the
sun and its effects, to which the poet gallantly compared the beautiful
Queen. D. John rode on her right, and their persons were guarded by the
forty archers who surrounded them; they were preceded by a company of
arquebusiers on horseback and one hundred Germans forming two lines, and
were followed by the Princess de la Roche sur Yonne and Mme. de Tournon
in litters; ten maids of honour, as pretty, coquettish and flighty as
their mistress, were riding amid a crowd of gentlemen, who waited on
them and flirted with them; six coaches were in the rear with the rest
of the ladies, and the female servants and an escort of lancers on
horseback.

Queen Margot stayed four days in Namur, entertained all the time
magnificently by D. John; at eleven o'clock they dined in one of the
delicious gardens of the place, and then danced till the hour of
vespers, which they went devoutly to attend in some convent of friars.
Then they went for a ride and supped at six o'clock, also out of doors
in the gardens, when more dancing followed, or romantic walks by the
river in the moonlight with delightful music. The Bishop of Liége, who
had come there, was present at all these gatherings, also the Canons and
a crowd of native and foreign gentlemen, among whom Margot made her
treacherous propaganda, because this bad woman, (as she always was in
many ways) was in connivance with the Prince of Orange, and was working
secretly in favour of her brother the Duke of Alençon, whom Orange
wished to appoint Governor of Flanders, D. John being a prisoner or
dead. Margot knew this, and she, being very much taken with him and not
wishing any harm to befall him, gave him several very useful warnings;
through her he knew that the conspirators of Brussels had plans for
carrying out their evil designs there in Namur, and then it was that, in
agreement with the loyal Count of Barlaimont and his sons, he resolved
to retire to the castle of Namur and break with the States.

He was, however, ignorant of the number of the soldiers in the castle,
and how far it was safe to count on the Governor de Ives; time pressed
and he then formed a scheme, the execution of which Vander Hammen refers
to as follows: "Mos. de Hierges, eldest son of the Count of Barlaimont,
said that he would go to sleep that night at the castle, as Mos. de
Ives, the Governor, was a great friend of his; and that His Highness
would come next morning to hunt, and as he passed, if he thought he
could install himself in the castle, he would put his hand to his beard
as a signal, and if not he was to commend himself to God and fly. They
agreed on the plan and executed it the following day, without telling
the Council of the States or the deputies or trusting them. He therefore
pretended to go hunting, and passing by the gate of the castle asked
what it was. They answered, 'One of the best in Flanders.' Monsieur de
Barlaimont then said, 'My eldest son is there: would Y.H. like us to see
if he wishes to go hunting?' D. John stopped and ordered him to be
called. He came to the gate; His Highness asked why he had gone to sleep
at a castle and had left the town, and then they began a conversation.
In the middle of it he said, 'If you like to see it, it is still early
and it will please them greatly,' and made the sign. D. John turned to
the Duke of Arschot and the Marquis de Havré, and said to them, 'It is
early, let us see it.' With this he reached the door and dismounted,
carrying a pistol he had taken from the saddle-bow. Twenty-four Spanish
lackeys preceded him. As relations were not ruptured, Mos. de Ives
ordered the few Walloons (they were old soldiers, wearied by long wars)
to open the door, and the twenty-four lackeys entered and disarmed the
guard. The Lord D. John, standing at the door, said, 'All who are
servants of the King, my Lord, come here to me,' and turning to Ives, he
told him 'not to fear, because he had taken the castle for the King, his
Lord, to whom it belonged, to free himself from a conspiracy formed
against him.' He gave him the keys and permission to leave to all those
who did not wish to stay with him. Nobody stirred, all mounted with him.
Upstairs he took Arschot and Havré on one side, and told them all that
had passed and the treaty they had made, and showed them his letters.
The Duke, being convinced, offered, in the name of the States, to
acknowledge him Lord of Flanders, and said that all would readily obey
him if he liked to take them as vassals; but the Lord D. John reproved
him very severely for the offer, and said many angry words. It was only
his courage and loyalty which could do so heroic an action and resist
such a great temptation. The talk ended by the two leaving the castle
and going to the town, where their wives were; but on reaching it they,
also Mos. de Capres and the soldiers who had come to capture His
Highness fled, so hurriedly, that they scarcely collected their clothes,
saying that there was nothing further to do there as he had escaped
them. D. John's chief almoner, the Abbot de Meroles, who was crafty and
untrustworthy, followed them with a few others. D. John heard of the
flight of the Duke and the Marquis, and at once sent Octavio Gonzaga
after them, with rather more than twenty gentlemen, to make them return,
but they fled in such good earnest that he could not overtake them."

The Duchess of Arschot and the Marchioness of Havré, who were at Namur,
indignant at the bad conduct of their husbands, wrote to D. John
protesting and offering themselves as hostages. He answered that his
mission was to serve ladies, not to make them captive, and sent them 600
crowns, so that they might rejoin their husbands. So impoverished was D.
John that to obtain this money he had to borrow from the gentlemen and
servants who had followed him. Bad as this was, the worst part of D.
John's situation was that Philip II persisted in upholding that policy
of peace, which was encouraging the States more and more, forbidding the
Spanish regiments to return to Flanders to continue the war, which D.
John thought absolutely necessary, and as a means of forcing him to this
obedience, against his opinions and wishes Philip adopted the plan of
sending no money whatever to Flanders or answering the frequent and
despairing letters the poor Prince wrote, which, after four centuries,
give one pain to read. But what was the most extraordinary, and which
immersed D. John in a sea of fears and perplexities and made him foresee
grave catastrophes, was that his false friend Antonio Pérez did not
write either, and the good and loyal Escovedo preserved the same
silence.




                              CHAPTER XVII


To understand properly the complicated reasons which induced Philip II
to leave his brother D. John of Austria without help in such an
uncalled-for way, it is necessary to disentangle the skein, among whose
threads will be found the mysterious and tragic death of the secretary
Juan de Escovedo. Some light has been thrown on the gloomy drama which
shows that various figures are stained with this innocent blood. By
these sinister signs we are able to trace, and through many winding ways
to establish, the connection of certain deeds which show by themselves
the characters and degree of responsibility of these persons.

We must retrace our steps to the year 1569, and on a beautiful June
afternoon we shall see slowly entering Pastrana a covered waggon of the
sort still called "galeras." The mysterious vehicle excited much
curiosity, and a crowd of men, women and children gathered round it when
it stopped at the threshold of the ducal palace of Pastrana, whose heavy
doors opened to receive it, leaving the curious outside. In the first
courtyard Prince Ruy Gómez de Silva and his wife the Princess de Évoli
were waiting with all their children, even down to the babies in the
arms of their nurses and maids, the duennas, waiting-maids, pages and
other retainers in rows, according to their standing. All eyes were
fixed on the waggon, with curiosity mingled with respect, and those in
the back row stood on tiptoe to see better. The curtains of the cart
were at last withdrawn, and Ruy Gómez and his wife went forward
respectfully; all heads were stretched out, and an old woman, who had
been in the service of the Condesa del Mélito, the mother of the
Princess, fell on her knees and beat upon her breasts. Three strange
figures alighted, such as were never seen about the streets at that
time; they wore tunics of coarse cloth, white cloaks of the same
material, and their bare feet were shod with sandals of esparto grass;
long, thick black veils covered their faces and almost all their
persons. A small bundle tied up in a cloth was carried under the cloak
by the last figure to alight.

All these marks of curiosity and respect, however, were well justified,
as the woman who was first to get out, dressed in the coarse cloth, was
St. Theresa de Jesus, who was come to found a convent of barefooted
Carmelites at Pastrana. It was not two years since Ruy Gómez had come
into possession of his duchy, and he was hastening to do all he could
for the material and moral welfare of his vassals. He wished to
establish a monastery in his town, and the Princess a convent for women,
which she had given over to Mother Theresa, attracted by the wonderful
things she had heard of this marvellous woman, and anxious to flatter
her own curiosity and vanity by associating herself with one with whom
God held familiar intercourse and to whom He showed such stupendous
wonders. The saint accepted the offer; she was just beginning her great
reforms, and for this purpose went from Toledo to Pastrana, passing by
Madrid, where she stayed with an old friend of ours and a devoted
follower of the saint, Doña Leonor Mascareñes, in the Franciscan convent
which Doña Leonor had founded and to which she had retired. She gave
Mother Theresa many details of the Princess's difficult temper, having
known her well at Court. Well primed with this information the saint
went to Pastrana, where she arrived towards the end of June. Here, she
says in her book about her foundations, "I found the Princess and the
Prince Ruy Gómez, who received me very well; they gave me a private
apartment, which was more than I could have expected, because the house
was so small that the Princess had had much of it pulled down and
rebuilt, not the walls, but many things. We were there for three months,
hard times, the Princess asking me things contrary to our religion. I
had even determined to leave rather than give in, but the Prince Ruy
Gómez, in his gentle way (he was very gentle and sensible), made his
wife come to reason." Besides the troubles alluded to by the saint the
Princess made others from her capricious, domineering character and want
of fine feeling. She had heard that St. Theresa was very beautiful, in
spite of being fifty-four, and she was dying of curiosity to see her
face, but the saint would not consent to show it to her, nor did she or
her companions ever lift their veils before the Princess or anybody
else. This exasperated the Princess, and she was always peeping through
the windows and keyhole hoping to surprise Theresa in one of her
trances, in which Our Lord used to appear to her. Theresa laughed at
what she calls stupidities, but in the end this constant prying worried
and became intolerable to her. The Princess also gave her another real
cause for annoyance; knowing that her confessor had ordered her to write
her wonderful life, the Princess, full of curiosity, wished to read it.
Mother Theresa refused with much firmness; this piqued the capricious
lady, who wrote to the saint's superiors, asking them to order her to
let the Princess read the manuscript she had with her at Pastrana. They,
being either very complacent or not knowing the Princess's character,
did not hesitate to give the order. Theresa obeyed without delay, and
then the Princess triumphed. She greedily read the ingenuous pages in
which the divine marvels are told with such sublime simplicity; they
excited her imagination, and, like all talkative women, feeling the
necessity of imparting her feelings, she committed the breach of
confidence of giving the manuscript to her duennas, waiting-maids and
pages. So from hand to hand, in hall and antechamber, went the
mysterious outpouring of the Virgen del Carmel, and so many comments
were made that they reached the ears of the Inquisitor, who sent for the
book. The severe tribunal kept it for ten years and then returned it
without observation or alteration, but not before all this had caused
very great annoyance.

At last the foundation was finished, and Mother Theresa left for
Salamanca and the Prince and Princess for Madrid, where a year
afterwards Ruy Gómez died in his house in the lane of St. Mary. He
expired in the arms of his old and faithful friend Juan de Escovedo; his
last moments were aided by two barefooted Carmelite friars who came from
Pastrana. The Princess gave way to paroxysms of grief, which were more
like fits of temper; in the first moments she roared rather than wept
over her sorrow, as she really loved the worthy man who had gratified
her vanity and her senses, the only two poles which guided this lady's
life. Suddenly, thinking herself like St. Theresa, inspired by Heaven,
she determined at once to retire to the Carmelite convent at Pastrana
and end her days in retirement and prayer. In vain the two monks, her
relations and friends put before her her obligations as a mother, the
duties which the will of Ruy Gómez imposed on her by making her guardian
of her children, and her strict obligation to administer the properties
and fortunes of these minors.

The widow's obstinacy was fanned by this opposition, and as her only
answer she requested the two friars to give her the habit. They replied
that they could not do so without the permission of the superiors and
the authorisation of Mother Theresa. The Princess shrugged her shoulders
and ordered a new habit, but as one was not forthcoming at once, she
attired herself in an old, dirty one and covered herself with a black
veil, as she had seen St. Theresa do, never raising it to show her face.
As the sandals of esparto grass hurt her bare feet she ordered them to
be lined with the softest cloth. She also ordered a waggon covered with
an awning like St. Theresa's, and with her duennas and maids set out for
Pastrana, without taking leave of anyone and abandoning the body of her
husband. Her mother, the Princess del Mélito, got into the cart almost
by main force, so as to accompany her to the convent. One of the friars,
Bartholomé de Jesus, seeing that she was really going, outstripped the
Princess's waggon and arrived at the convent at two in the morning to
warn the nuns. The Prioress, Elizabeth de San Domingo, a discreet woman
of rare virtue, came downstairs, and on hearing that the Princess was
arriving in a few hours, already habited as a nun and with the intention
of remaining at the convent, exclaimed, clasping her hands in amazement,
"The Princess a nun—then I give up this house as lost."




                             CHAPTER XVIII


The author of the "History of the Reforms of the Barefooted Order of Our
Lady of Carmel," Fr. Francisco de Santamaria, thus describes the arrival
of the Princess de Évoli at the convent of Pastrana. "The Prioress
called the nuns, got ready the house, and prepared two beds, one for the
Princess, the other for her mother, who arrived at eight o'clock in the
morning. The Princess changed her habit, as the one she had taken in
Madrid was neither suitable nor so clean as it might have been. She
rested for a while, and suddenly showing her determination wished that
the habit should be given at once to the two waiting-maids she had
brought with her, paying with a little sackcloth the salaries of long
years. The Prioress answered that the licence of the prelate was
necessary. She said, very much offended, 'What have friars to do with my
convent?' Not without resentment on the Princess's part, the Mother
Prioress deferred doing it until she had consulted the Father Prior.
Having conferred with him she resolved to give them the habit. This was
done in the parlour, the Princess being placed between the two, so that
she might also attain the blessings. They took her to eat meat with her
mother in a room apart. She dispensed with this service and went to the
refectory, and leaving the place near the Prioress which had been
prepared for her took one of the lowest, without giving in to prayers
and exhortations, preserving superiority in an inferior place.

"The Prioress, considering that such self-will would cause much trouble,
consulted with the Princess, her mother, that it would be better if the
lady took a part of the house, where she could live with her servants
and be visited by secular people, with a door to go to the cloister when
she wished, but not any secular person to use it. This seemed to
everyone good advice, but she thought it bad, as it was not hers, and
she remained as she was in the convent.

[Illustration:

  PRINCESA DE ÉVOLI

  _From a print of her portrait by Sanchez Coello,
  belonging to Duque du Pastrana_
]

"The next day, having buried the Prince and performed the obsequies, the
Bishop of Segorbe and other persons of rank who were there came to visit
her. Mother Elizabeth told her to talk to them at the grating, but she
wished that they should come into the cloister, and made such a point of
this that, in spite of the monks, nuns, and laymen who came to visit
her, they opened the doors of the convent and many servants entered with
the lords, overthrowing the decrees of the Council, the orders of the
holy Mother, the silence and retirement of the nuns and all good
government, because lords do not think that they need obey laws. Not
content with this she insisted on having two secular maids; the Mother
Prioress offered that she herself and everyone would wait on her,
especially two novices formerly in her service, but nothing would
satisfy her, as she thought that she should be obeyed.

"The Mother Elizabeth wrote to our Mother St. Theresa, telling her of
the death of the Prince, the resolution of the Princess, and the first
episodes she had gone through with her.

"Mother Elizabeth and two of the oldest nuns told her that if she went
on in this way, they knew that the holy foundation would take them away
and put them where they could keep their rules, of more importance in
her eyes than all the Grandees in the world. Annoyed by this, she took
her servants and went to a hermitage in the orchard, and remained there,
having nothing to do with the nuns. They sent her, however, the novices
to wait on her, they not being yet so bound by the rules of the
cloister.

"From there a door opened into the street, by which she admitted
everyone, modifying thereby the grief for her husband's death. Because
of all this the work of the church and convent stopped and the alms
which Ruy Gómez had left for its support, so that it began to suffer
great straits."

But as all this lasted too long, and since the Princess would not give
in and the troubles went on, so that all peace and quiet were at an end,
and the "dovecot of the Virgin," as St. Theresa called it, was turned
into a nest of intrigues and gossip, the saint wrote to the Prioress
that she and all the nuns were to leave Pastrana and go to the convent
in Segovia. This, however, was not necessary, as the superiors of the
Order went to the King, and, acting with him, obliged the Princess to
leave the convent. She then retired to her country house at Pastrana,
and from there carried on such a campaign against the nuns and
persecuted them so cruelly that Theresa, weary of it, ordered the
Prioress to leave the convent with all the nuns, taking nothing with
them that had been given by the Princess. "The beds," says the saint in
her "Book of Foundations," "and the little things that the nuns
themselves had brought, they took away with them, leaving the village
people very sad. I saw them in peace with the greatest joy, because I
was well informed that the displeasure of the Princess was no fault of
theirs, rather they waited on her as before she wore the habit."

The Princess then sought for a Franciscan community to establish in the
empty convent, and she helped and made much of them as she had never
done before to the others. She took care that this should reach the ears
of St. Theresa, her small, vindictive nature thinking that human
jealousies could have a place in that heart which was protected by
divine love. In the midst of this wretched strife the grief of the
Princess had lessened, and in 1575 she already thought of returning to
Madrid, so her father the Prince de Mélito wrote to the King's secretary
Mateo Vázguez, that he might inform Philip and gain his support in her
lawsuits. According to his custom, the King answered on the margin of
Mateo Vázguez's letter, in these very severe words: "Here is the paper,
which I have seen, and by the prudence, which I have exercised all my
life, of not mixing myself in the affairs of these persons, it will be
well to do what is said here; and the more as I do not know if for these
affairs and lawsuits the coming (of the Princess) is necessary, but I am
certain that for their conscience and peace, and, who knows, their
honour, it is best that she should not come here; and even for keeping
the friendship of her father and mother, as she herself says, that when
absent they are friends, but cannot be so when they are together. And
Ruy Gómez often told me, and well I know that it was much against his
will that she should come here as a widow, and that he would be sorry if
he knew that she did it; and it is not reasonable that I should order a
thing I know to have been so certainly against his wishes. And,
moreover, I do not know if this would suit all of us of the Court,
especially those who cannot leave it. Thus, although I should have to
mix in such matters, I will not in this one, particularly as I have long
since determined not to do so. Otherwise I should be pleased to favour
Ruy Gómez's relations, as his services deserve. This for yourself, as it
cannot be said to others. And you must see how you can answer Mélito,
excusing me from interfering about his daughter's coming."

The precise date of the Princess de Évoli's arrival in Madrid is not
known; we think that she came for short and frequent visits in 1575 and
settled there the next year. She would then realise that it was not the
same thing to be the widow as the wife of Ruy Gómez, and many rude
awakenings soured her proud spirit. The secretary Antonio Pérez began to
frequent her house at this time, and these two monsters of vanity were
attracted by, and suited to, each other. He, a political puppet, sought
from her the prestige that intimacy with such a great and high-born lady
as the Princess could give him, for, in spite of all his grandeur and
luxury and power, then at its height, he never could forget his base and
lowly origin. She, on her part, sought in him what she had lost by the
death of Ruy Gómez, a share of power and influence, easier to manage
from the hands of the unworthy Antonio Pérez than from those of the
level-headed Prince de Évoli: "I can do more than ever," said the
Princess proudly a little later to one of her correspondents.

The lady was at this time thirty-six, and in spite of the superlative
praise of her beauty that Antonio Pérez gives in his "Relaciones," it
was not then extraordinary, nor ever could have been so. None of her
contemporaries mention it, and the only authentic portrait known of her
represents her as a nice-looking girl, dreadfully disfigured by a black
patch which covered her blind eye, and specially noticeable from the
whiteness of her skin and the blackness of her hair. Antonio Pérez was
forty-two, and was, according to Luis Cabrera de Córdoba, "a
good-looking man, with a handsome, manly face, over sumptuously and
curiously dressed, perfumed, and pompous in his house." The inevitable
happened: the sudden intimacy of two people, so well known, after years
of slight acquaintance, caused them to be talked about, and the
frequency and familiarity of the visits at unsuitable hours, and, above
all, the endless exchange of presents, until mine and thine hardly
existed between them, let loose among all the Court that gossip which
previously had only been timidly circulated, as the Marqúes de Fabara
had whispered to D. John. Then, in the presence of Antonio Pérez, she
committed the treacherous act of a plotting woman; she called her
children and told them not to be astonished at his visits or the
affection he showed for them, because he was the son of Ruy Gómez and
therefore their brother.

At this historical moment Escovedo arrived from Flanders (July, 1577),
sent by D. John to Madrid to represent to Philip how cut off he was, and
the grave risks that these States and his own person ran. Escovedo had
not forgotten, among his many preoccupations, the adventure at the
Chorrillos, that D. John had told him of to moderate his zeal for the
Princess de Évoli, and one of his first cares on reaching Madrid was to
inform himself of the state of the case. At once he found that the fact
was true, the scandal public, and the honoured memory of Ruy Gómez
degraded by the lightness of the widow and the horrible ingratitude of
Antonio Pérez, who owed everything to this great patrician. Loyal
Escovedo was greatly distressed, and wishing to retrieve the honour of
his dead benefactor and friend went to the house of the Princess,
intending to warn and counsel her with all the regard he had for her.
She was in the saloon with Doña Brianda de Gúzman; he waited patiently
until this lady had left, and then spoke, not with his usual
brusqueness, but with deep and affectionate concern, of the dreadful
rumours that were going about, and said that she must close her door to
Antonio Pérez in order not to give support to them. Blind with rage on
hearing him, the Princess rose, and in an unsteady voice answered that
"it did not concern squires what great ladies did." And with this she
turned and went to the further end of the room. All of which is told by
Doña Catalina de Herrera, duenna to the Princess.




                              CHAPTER XIX


During this time the diabolical craftiness of Antonio Pérez had again
stirred into a flame Philip's slumbering suspicions of his brother.
Absolute master of the King's confidence, and also master of that which
he had treacherously obtained by pretending to favour the interests of
D. John and Escovedo, it was easy for this past master of perfidy and
intrigue to tangle the skein. The unfortunate troubles in Flanders had
put an end to the English scheme; and Philip's tenacity in following the
policy of peace when only that of war was possible helped Antonio Pérez
very much. D. John and Escovedo often wrote to him, as faithful friends
pursuing the same end, telling him of their plans and their fears,
grumbling to him, and begging for his powerful support with the King.
For his part Antonio Pérez took the echo of all this to D. Philip, but
not as it was, sincere and frank, always loyal and noble, if sometimes
violent, but changed in its meaning, exaggerated, its text even altered
when deciphered by Fernando de Escobar, a creature of Antonio Pérez. He
answered them, in agreement with Philip, trying to maintain their
confidence, and his hypocrisy went the length of letting disrespectful
words against the Monarch slip into his letters, in the hope that seeing
these they would imitate his example, which he never succeeded in making
them do.

Sending one of these insidious letters for D. John to the deceived
Sovereign for his approval, Antonio Pérez wrote:

    "Sir, It is necessary to hear and write in this manner for your
    service, because thus they fall into the net, and one is better
    able to judge what course to take on behalf of your Majesty. And
    I would ask your Majesty to be careful not to be overlooked when
    reading these documents, as if my artifice were discovered, I
    could not serve you, and should have to give up the game. For
    the rest, I very well know, that for my conscience and duty I am
    acting as I ought in this matter, and I have need of no more
    casuistry than I possess to know it."

The King answered Pérez on the margin of the letter: "Believe me, I am
very discreet, and my casuistry agrees with yours; and not only are you
doing your duty, but you would fail in doing it towards God and everyone
if you acted differently, in order that I may be well enlightened of all
that is necessary according to the twists and turns of the world and its
affairs, which certainly frighten me."

Thus deceiving Philip II and betraying and calumniating D. John and
Escovedo, Antonio Pérez made the false and subtle plot by which the hero
of Lepanto lost his credit with the King, and honest Escovedo his life
by a treacherous sword-thrust. Pérez, in his "Memorial," shows the
threads of the plot, whose falseness Philip II found out later, and
which modern history has proved by many authentic documents. That D.
John had disobeyed the King by refusing to dismantle Tunis, the better
to raise himself in that kingdom; that behind the King's back he had
sought protection from Rome; that he put the English expedition before
all the King's interests; that he exaggerated the state of affairs in
Flanders, in order to get aid from Spain to use in the said expedition;
that, once master of England, he contemplated invading Spain at
Santander, making over the castle of Mogro to Escovedo, who had
solicited its lieutenancy; that the hope of the English expedition over,
he thought of going to the help of the King of France at the head of the
Spanish troops; that his wish to return to Spain was only to obtain a
canopy and take possession of the government; that behind the King's
back he had made a league with the Guise Princes, called the "Defence of
the two Crowns," going back to the idea of invading England.

All these absurd, senseless plans Antonio Pérez did not attribute
entirely to D. John. As formerly he represented Juan de Soto, so now he
held up Escovedo as the instigator and principal agent, and D. John as a
weak prince, who, devoured by ambition and blind through his vivid
imagination, allowed himself to be dragged into disloyal adventures. For
this, and perhaps because he loved D. John and was frightened of him,
Philip II never showed his suspicion, nor took any steps against him,
and took much trouble afterwards to hide his vengeance from him; so all
his wrath fell on Escovedo, and he came to look on this rough and honest
mountaineer as a dangerous man, capable of every treason and every
crime. It is not wonderful that Escovedo's unexpected coming to Madrid
in July, 1577, which we noted in a former chapter, should have given D.
Philip a great shock; writing, as usual, on the margin of the letter in
which Antonio Pérez announced the arrival of Escovedo at Santander, he
says, "It will be necessary to be well prepared, and to make haste to
dispatch him before he kills us."

Escovedo came, furious at what he considered the incomprehensible way D.
John had been left without soldiers or money; furious also at Philip's
policy of peace, which he presumed to describe as overdone, writing to
the King himself, and finally determined, with all his rough energy, to
claim the acceptance of the bills he had negotiated in Brussels, and the
payment of the 80,000 gold crowns lent to D. John by the Pope's Nuncio,
that the troops might be dismissed from Flanders. This he did with such
hard words and bitter reproaches, that Philip sent one of Escovedo's
letters to Pérez, adding on the margin, "That you should see how he
comes thirsting for blood." And shortly afterwards, lamenting over
another letter from Escovedo, he wrote, "Certainly if he said to me what
he writes, I do not know if I could have helped losing my temper as he
does."

[Illustration:

  _Photo Lacoste_

  PHILIP II AS AN OLD MAN

  _Pantoja de la Cruz. Prado Gallery, Madrid_
]

At last the news of D. John's retirement to the castle of Namur reached
the Court, and the despairing letters of the distressed Prince began to
arrive, in which, with such painful urgency, he craves for the return of
Escovedo. "Money, money, and more money, and Escovedo," he repeats in
all his letters of this date. His anxiety to have his secretary at his
side, and the same feeling which was noticed in Escovedo to return as
quickly as possible to Flanders, awoke in D. Philip the suspicion that
something was being plotted to continue the war there against his
orders, and to favour D. John's pretensions. Antonio Pérez fanned this
new fire, and henceforward Escovedo was in D. Philip's eyes a constant
danger, a State criminal, who could not be sent back to Flanders, for
fear lest he would carry out his work, or kept in Spain, without the
risk of rousing the dreaded ire of D. John. For several days this vexed
and perplexed Philip, until at last he made a resolution which Antonio
Pérez himself relates in a letter to Gil de Mesa.

One day Philip called him to his room in the Escorial. It was at an
inconvenient time, and the secretary hastily ran, carrying the
dispatches in a large bag. The King came to the door to meet him, and
took him, with much mystery, to a distant, isolated room, where the
furniture, ornaments and treasures for the still unfurnished house were
stored. The King ordered Pérez to shut the door and put the bag of
papers on the table. The furniture was stacked at the two sides, leaving
a passage in the middle, up and down which Philip began to walk, his
hands behind his back, preoccupied and thoughtful. Pérez kept a
respectful silence, waiting for the King to break it, which he did at
last, standing in front of Pérez, and saying very slowly and in measured
tones, "Antonio Pérez, I have passed many sleepless nights on account of
my brother's affairs, or rather those of Juan de Escovedo and his
predecessor Juan de Soto, and the point to which their plots have come,
and I consider it is very necessary to take a resolution quickly, or we
shall not be in time. And I can find no better remedy, in fact there is
no other, than getting rid of Juan de Escovedo. Imprisoning him would
result in exasperating my brother as much as killing him would. So I
have determined on it, and trust this deed to no one but you, because of
your well-proved fidelity and your ingenuity, as well known as your
fidelity. Because you know all the plots, and I owe the discovery of
them to you, yours shall be the hand to effect the cure. Speed is very
necessary for the reasons you know."

As he himself affirms, the heart of Antonio Pérez leapt, and he answered
the King with great devotion that he was entirely his, and that he had
no more wish or movement than the hand as regards its owner. But, as his
cunning forethought always saw a long way ahead, he at once realised the
risk that he ran in a matter so secret and with so powerful an
accomplice, if he did not have a witness in his interest to note the
facts, if things were ever discovered, and to share the responsibilities
in case of disagreement, so he craftily added, "But, Sir, let Y.M.
permit me to speak with the presumption of love. I consider Y.M. outside
this affair, although your prudence and presence of mind prevent your
being incensed at the greatest crimes, I, as I might get angry at such
offences against your person and crown, also have much interest in this.
It will be well to bring in a third person to judge this determination,
to justify it, and for the better ascertaining of the facts. This will
be much to the point."

Then he saw the King come towards him, who, stopping, answered: "Antonio
Pérez, if it is because you do not care to run the risk of this business
that you wish for a third person, it is the same to me. To settle the
matter I do not require a third person. Kings in such extreme cases have
to act like King's physicians and great doctors among their inferiors
with patients under their care: that in grave and urgent accidents they
act on their own authority with promptitude, although in other illnesses
they act with and follow the consultations of other doctors. Moreover,
in these matters (believe me that what I say relates to my profession)
there is more danger than security in consultations."

Antonio Pérez makes the following comment on these royal words in his
letter to Gil de Mesa: "When old kings come to announcing such
principles of their art, either they love much (a rare thing) or
necessity opens the door of confidence (a certain fact)."

Well Antonio Pérez must have known and measured Philip's necessity when
he determined to press him to interpose a third person, and even
presumed to propose his friend and boon companion the Marqués de los
Vélez, D. Pedro Fajardo, who was a Councillor of State and Lord Steward
to the Queen Doña Ana. At last Philip consented, and authorised Antonio
Pérez to consult him. The secretary had little trouble in bringing the
old noble to his opinion, a despot himself, a great soldier but
absolutely illiterate, who considered Pérez an oracle, and for some
years had owed D. John a grudge for having usurped, as he said, the
triumph over the Moors.

Pérez talked to him, and both agreed that Escovedo deserved to die as a
disturber of the kingdom who was trying to make war in Flanders; that it
was impossible to arrest, judge and sentence him in the ordinary way
without risk of awaking the alarm of D. John and provoking fresh
conflicts; but the King, as supreme arbiter of his subjects' lives,
according to the precepts and practices of those times, could judge and
sentence him by the secret law of his conscience, without any legal
transactions, and entrust the execution of this sentence to some person
in his confidence, whom he should authorise by a paper in his own
writing, "and that the best and least inconvenient way would be that
with some mouthful or other similar means he should get out of the
trouble, and even this with the greatest care, as the Lord D. John might
not suspect it was the result of the true cause and motive, but of some
vengeance and private grudge."

And then the Marqués de los Vélez, with all the customary pomposity of a
wind-bag, and with all the jealous rancour which he nourished,
pronounced these words so often quoted by the apologists of Antonio
Pérez, "That if his opinion were asked, with the Sacrament in his mouth,
who was the person it was most important to take away, Juan de Escovedo
or anyone else, he would vote for Juan de Escovedo."

In conformity, then, with this interview Philip II judged Escovedo and
condemned him to death by the law of his conscience, and charged Antonio
Pérez with the execution of the sentence, authorising him by a paper
written by his own hand, in which he adds, "That although it may be
realised that he has nothing to do with all that has happened, it will
be well that there should be no doubt whatever about it."




                               CHAPTER XX


Antonio Pérez lost no time, and with the greatest secrecy began to
arrange the means by which to give Escovedo "a mouthful," which would
cause his death and give him time to confess, "so that he should not
also lose his soul," according to Philip II's expressed wish. In the
houses of the Grandees—and Antonio Pérez lived as if he were one—in
those days of little security, scoundrels and ruffians were attached to
the household to guard its lord, in cases of attack or defence. Because
of his many plots and businesses, Antonio Pérez had several in his
service, and chief among them his steward and confidential servant Diego
Martinez, a wild, brave, unscrupulous man. So to Diego Martinez Pérez
went and confided his intentions, asking him to obtain a poison to kill
Escovedo, and a trustworthy, capable agent to administer it. Martinez
proposed a certain Antonio Enriquez, one of Antonio Pérez's pages, a
clever, determined man, and of the stuff assassins are made of. Diego
Martinez interviewed him, and revealed the affair to him little by
little, as had been arranged. He asked him first whether he knew of any
bravo who was capable of dealing a blow that would bring much gain and
little danger, as secret protection would be forthcoming.

Enriquez answered that he knew a muleteer capable of giving one for
nothing, and with all risks if he undertook the engagement. Then
Martinez revealed a little more, and said that it was an important
personage, and that Antonio Pérez wished for his death. For this,
answered Enriquez, a cleverer man than a muleteer is wanted, and he said
no more that day.

But very early the next morning Diego Martinez entered the chamber of
Enriquez, holding a glass phial, as it seemed, of clear water, and
holding it up to the light, said that it contained the poison to kill a
certain person, who was none other than the secretary Juan de Escovedo,
whose death Antonio Pérez desired, and which was to take place at a
dinner that was being prepared at the "Casilla," and it was the wish of
the Lord Antonio that he, Enriquez, should administer the poison at the
banquet, with all the skill and caution Pérez knew him to possess.

To this Enriquez answered roughly that if the Lord Antonio desired to
make him kill a man, he should tell him so openly and by his own mouth,
otherwise he would not kill anyone. Accordingly Pérez made an
appointment at the "Casilla" one afternoon with Enriquez, according to
the declaration of the same, and said, "As it is important that the
secretary Escovedo should die, he had been instructed to give the poison
the day that he was a guest, and in order to do so he must see and
communicate with the said Diego Martinez, giving him his word and
promise and friendship in all things. And with this declaration he was
very satisfied, and communicated each day with the said Diego Martinez,
about what was to be done." The arrangements for striking the blow were
the following. The dining-rooms at the "Casilla," as we said while
describing the celebrated villa, were on the ground-floor, on the right
hand of the door, and the first was a square room with two cupboards,
one for plate, the other for the cups, in which, according to the custom
of those times, beverages were served. Next was a passage room, with
much rich Cordova leather, which led into the dining-room itself. It was
agreed that Antonio Enriquez should serve Escovedo with wine when he
asked for it. Diego Martinez was to hide in the passage room, with the
poisoned water all ready, and as Enriquez passed carrying Escovedo's
full cup, Martinez was to throw in quickly and secretly enough poison to
fill a nutshell, which was the prescribed quantity.

This plan was carried out, and twice during the dinner Antonio Enriquez
administered the poisoned drink to Escovedo. There were eight guests
that day, all great and important personages, some of them officers of
the Court. Antonio Pérez sat next to Escovedo, watching the coming and
going of the page Enriquez, when he served his confiding victim with
wine, even to the number of cupfuls the latter drank. But this man made
of stone did not watch these sinister movements with the unrest and
trepidation usual in a criminal, or with the anticipation of remorse at
seeing the dagger sharpened which is to be plunged into the breast of a
friend; but seemingly calm, quiet, merry, and joking with his victim,
and keeping up animation among his guests with that charm, wit, and
eloquence and gaiety which made the wicked secretary so attractive and
delightful. At last the horrible feast came to an end, and they rose
from the table to begin to play, all except Escovedo, who, saying that
he had important business, at once returned to Madrid. He rode on a mule
with no other escort than a groom on foot, and he leant over the mule's
neck like a man either very ill or very much preoccupied. Pérez thought
that the poison was already taking effect, and, full of impatience,
Antonio Enriquez says in his declaration, "he made an excuse and joined
the witness and his steward in one of the chambers near the courtyard,
where he learnt the amount of water that had been given to the secretary
Escovedo, and then went back to play."

The next morning Diego Martinez went as if by chance to prowl about the
lane of St. Mary, where Escovedo lived in a house which he had bought
from the Prince de Évoli, in proximity to whose dwelling it was. It was
called "of the lions" from two at the door. The steward waited for some
sign of alarm or unusual movement in the house, to manifest the grave
illness, at least, which he anticipated for Escovedo by this time. The
most absolute calm, however, reigned in the street and house. In the
wide, dark, paved courtyard Escovedo's mule was being cleaned by the
groom; a servant was hanging a child's white clothes out of a window,
and at the bend of the narrow lane three men, with great labour, were
putting two casks through the narrow grating of the cellar. The spy drew
nearer stealthily, and saw with surprise and terror that at the bottom
of the cellar Escovedo himself, in doublet and breeches, and his son
Pedro, were assisting by their orders, and even by their efforts, the
difficult passage of the casks. There was no doubt that the poison had
not taken effect, either because the patient was too strong or the dose
too light.

The failure of this, his first attempt, annoyed Pérez very much; but he
was not the least discouraged, because men like him, cold, artful and
wicked, never are. He at once began to think of another ambush to which
to attract his victim, and this was another dinner, this time at his
house in Madrid, that of the Conde de Puñonrostro, behind the church of
St. Justin. He had furnished this historical house with a luxury and
magnificence much greater even than the vaunted "Casilla," and the
parties given there had something courtly and serious about them, very
different from the country jaunts and merry suppers of the other. The
wife of Pérez, Doña Juana de Coello, who always presided over them, gave
the parties this character; she was a highly gifted lady, whose heroic
conjugal affection has passed into history. At the dinner, where a
second attempt on the life of Escovedo was made, Doña Juana was present,
and besides Antonio Pérez and Escovedo there were five guests, of whom
two were ecclesiastics. In the declaration of the page Antonio Enriquez,
he relates how the poisoning was carried out this time. He says that
some porringers were served full of either cream or milk, he did not
remember which. There was a porringer for each guest, and they were
placed before using them in a row in a great cupboard. Diego Martinez
came and threw some white powder like flour into one of the porringers.
He told Enriquez to give this one to Escovedo, as it contained the
poison, and not to get it mixed with the others, making him hold it,
while the other pages came to fetch the rest. They all entered the
dining-room together to serve the porringers, and Enriquez placed the
poisoned one in front of Escovedo. Antonio Pérez, who knew where the
poison was, never took his eyes off it. Moreover, Antonio Enriquez
relates that he himself several times served Escovedo at this dinner
with wine mixed with the poisoned water which had been used before.

The violent and terrible effects of the poison this time did not delay
in showing themselves. That same night Escovedo was seized with sharp
internal pain, sickness, and putrid fever which for many days kept him
between life and death. The doctors saved him without suspecting poison,
and Escovedo began to get steadily better. Antonio Pérez watched all the
symptoms of the illness, and seeing that his wounded quarry was again
escaping him, once more let his pack of furious hounds loose on the
unlucky victim, that the crime should be perpetrated in his own honoured
home.

At that time there was a scullion, "racals," as they were called, in the
King's kitchen, Juan Rubio by name. He was the son of the agent of the
estate of the Prince de Mélito (father of the Princess de Évoli), who
having killed a priest in Cuenca, had fled to Madrid, and taken refuge
in the royal kitchens, where, disguised as a scullion, he was
unrecognised. Juan Rubio was a friend of Escovedo's cook, from seeing
him each day at the market, and also of Antonio Enriquez, by the
mysterious sympathy which always unites villains. By this simple means
Enriquez learnt about Escovedo's kitchen, and knew that during his
convalescence a special stew was prepared for him, but from the caprice
of an invalid inspired by certain fancies this stew was not prepared by
the cook, but by an old female slave there was in the house, who was a
great adept at making mince and other simple dishes.

Antonio Pérez took advantage of all these circumstances, and ordered his
followers to deal a third blow, which would destroy the life which
defended itself so tenaciously. So Antonio Enriquez spoke to the
scullion Juan Rubio, and with flattering promises, based on the credit
of Antonio Pérez, decided Rubio to force his way by some excuse into the
kitchen of Escovedo, and throw the poison into the stew which was daily
prepared for him. Enriquez gave him the poison, a white powder of a
different kind from that used before. The task was not so easy as the
two ruffians thought it would be, because the slave never left her fire
while she was cooking the stew, and the cook was always coming to the
oven. Three times Juan Rubio went in vain to the kitchen, but the fourth
time he achieved his object. Early one morning he watched for the cook
to go out, and then went in on an excuse of bringing some live rabbits
from the Prado. The slave was by the fire-place, having just put on the
stew. Juan Rubio gave her the rabbits, and as they were alive and tried
to escape, the poor old woman went to shut them up in a kind of cage
there was in the yard hard by. Then Juan Rubio lifted the cover of the
pot and threw in the thimbleful of the white powder, which was the
quantity ordered by Enriquez.

At eleven o'clock Escovedo's wife and his son Pedro, who nursed him
tenderly, gave him his meal; but on tasting the first mouthful the
secretary pushed the porringer from him, saying that it tasted of broom
juice. The poison, no doubt decomposed by the action of the fire, gave
an unbearably bitter taste to the dish, on which the poisoners had not
reckoned. Everyone was amazed. They made a search, and hunting carefully
through the stew at the bottom, they came on unmistakable signs of
poison.

Suspicion at once fell on the unlucky slave, who in vain protested her
innocence. She was taken and loaded with chains and tortured, confessing
in her weakness the crime she had not committed. She afterwards
retracted this confession, torn from her in her pain; but it was too
late, and she was condemned to be hanged, and the sentence was carried
out a few days later in the public square.




                              CHAPTER XXI


At the same time that Escovedo was escaping so wonderfully from these
three attempts on his life, tidings arrived at Madrid, which had been
always feared and expected, and which came to change entirely Philip
II's plans and policy. War, more cruel and gory than ever, had broken
out in Flanders, provoked by the rebels. D. John, having received a
handful of money to animate his German troops, and joining them to some
Spanish soldiers who had returned to France, and who, knowing his
danger, spontaneously flew to his aid, at Gembleux gloriously picked up
the glove that the rebels threw down, and gained over them that
marvellous victory which placed his personal courage in as much relief
as it did his talent as a leader, his prophetic political sagacity, and
his real faith as a Christian. "With this sign I vanquished the Turks;
with this sign I will vanquish the heretics," he had written round the
cross on his standard; and to his friends D. Diego de Mendoza and the
Conde de Orgaz he communicated the great news that his losses only
consisted of four killed and fifteen wounded, the enemy having been
5000, adding humbly, "God did it, and His only was the day, at a time,
when if it had not been done, we should have died of hunger, surrounded
by a hundred thousand other dangers."

The Baron de Willy, dispatched by D. John after the battle which was
fought on the 31st of January, 1578, brought the news to Philip. He also
informed him of the dreadful state of unrest in these provinces, all in
open rebellion, where religion was not respected, nor the King obeyed,
nor any Catholic law venerated. The fortresses gave their troops, the
cities, towns and even the miserable villages armed their militia, and
all joined in pursuing D. John, then deprived of all aid, surrounding
him, pressing him, destroying and overthrowing at the same time the
strong leader and the hated Spanish yoke. The victory of Gembleux,
gained by D. John, made them retire and widen the circle, like cowardly
hounds who see the lion they imagined done for suddenly rise, with
bristling mane and outstretched claws. Many of them never stopped until
they reached Brussels, and from there some fled to Antwerp, where they
imagined themselves safe. But, once they had recovered from their
surprise and fright, and knew that there was abundance of nothing except
valour in D. John's camp, they would return to reunite, and once again
narrow the circle, advancing slowly and with great caution, until at
last they would fall on D. John and annihilate him by their numbers, if
the help asked for in his letters were not sent. In these letters, which
the Baron de Willy gave to Philip, D. John paints a vivid picture of his
situation, and asks more urgently than ever for soldiers and plenty of
money. He also begs that his secretary Escovedo may be sent, in the
utmost good faith and ignorance of what was happening, recommending him
warmly to his brother D. Philip for certain favours, which D. John
averred he very well deserved.

All these facts and circumstances brought two things, distinct but much
connected with each other, to the knowledge of Philip; one, that it was
high time to give up his exaggerated peace policy in Flanders and take
refuge in that of force, as his brother had been urging him for months.
The other, that once the war had been lighted in Flanders by the rebels
the danger of Escovedo doing so had ceased, and consequently also the
political reason which made Philip condemn him to death. It was hard for
Philip to make practical use of these two convictions, because by the
first he had to retract an opinion he had held long and tenaciously; and
by the second he had to smother grudges, dislikes and petty spites,
which, united, made up what he, wrongly but sincerely, conceived to be
political reasons, and which had undeniably influenced him in sentencing
Escovedo to death. But the iron will of the prudent King knew how to
drown personal feelings, and hide at any rate dislikes and spites, and
frankly and definitely to enter on another course. So he wrote to D.
John by the Baron de Willy: "If before he had been tardy in not making
war on the rebels, to give them time to quiet themselves, as his
clemency had done nothing but irritate them, he desired to sustain his
authority by arms, and in order that it could be done in his name, he
sent 900,000 crowns, offering to provide in future 200,000 each month,
with which D. John was to maintain an army of 30,000 infantry and 6500
horse, without any prejudice to everything he thinks should be granted."

He also sent a fresh edict, which he ordered to be published, in which,
after enumerating the offences of the rebels against God and his
authority, he ordered them all to obey D. John, as his lieutenant; that
the deputies were no longer to sit, and that they were to return to
their provinces until they were legally convoked. He annulled everything
decreed by them, forbidding the Council of State and the Treasury to act
so long as they did not obey his Governor-General, and ordering that all
Royal Patrimony that had been usurped should be given up. At the same
time he ordered the Field-Marshal D. Lope de Figueroa, with 4000
veterans who were with him, to go to D. John's camp, where Alexander
Farnese already was with a part of the Spanish troops. The Duque de
Fernandina and D. Alfonso de Leiva were also to go with several
companies of Spaniards, also Gabrio Cervelloni, now ransomed by the Pope
from the hands of the Turks, with 2000 Italians he had raised in Milan.

Everything thus arranged about the war, the King wrote regarding
Escovedo, on the 8th of March, 1578, these conclusive words: "I will be
careful to order the secretary Escovedo to be dispatched shortly, and as
to the rest of what you write about him, as to this and as to what he
deserves, I will remember that it is right in its particulars." This
very important letter is in the archives of Simancas, and proves that at
that time (March 8) Philip had already retracted Escovedo's sentence of
death and had ordered Antonio Pérez to hasten his departure for
Flanders, as on the 12th of the same month the King answers on the
margin of one of Pérez's own letters, "and do not forget what I wrote to
you to hasten with the Verdinegro (Escovedo), who knows much and will
not understand."

And yet, twenty-two days later, on the 31st of March, which that year
was Easter Monday, Juan de Escovedo was treacherously murdered in the
lane of St. Mary. He was found run through in the street, between the
wall of the church and the house of the Princess de Évoli. He had a
sword-thrust in the back, and had fallen on his face, still wrapped in
his cloak, which the suddenness of the blow, no doubt, did not give him
time to undo.

What had happened in this short space of time? Had Philip again signed
Escovedo's death warrant, or had some treacherous hand interposed to
effect the retracted sentence against the will of the Monarch? An event
had taken place in those days which gives the key to the mystery. This
fact was shown plainly at the trial of Antonio Pérez, eleven years
later, and was attested by Andres de Morgado, brother to Rodrigo de
Morgado, equerry and confidential friend and go-between to the Princess
de Évoli and Antonio Pérez. In Pérez's letter to Philip of the 12th of
March, which we have just quoted, he says that at that time Escovedo had
not yet quite recovered. "The man Verdinegro," it says, "is still weak,
and will never get up." However, he rose soon, in spite of Antonio
Pérez's kind wish, and a few days later, about the end of March, he went
to visit the Princess de Évoli, according to Morgado's declaration.
Perhaps he went to take leave, before starting for Flanders; perhaps to
thank her for the hypocritical attentions she and Antonio Pérez had
shown him during his illness and convalescence. The details of this
visit, as given by Antonio de Morgado, cannot be written. Enough to say
that Escovedo surprised the Princess and Pérez in circumstances so
indecorous and suggestive, that, blind with rage and wounded to the
quick in his love and respect for the memory of Ruy Gómez, he broke out
into invectives against the pair, and threatened to disclose all to the
King. Pérez, ashamed, crept silently from the room, but the Princess,
irritated in her pride as a great lady and her passion as a bad woman,
faced Escovedo, and answered him by saying things about the King, which
could figure in a trial where indecency was in its element, but cannot
be read elsewhere without the blush of shame mounting to the forehead.

The Princess herself was afraid of what she had done, and late that
night sought Antonio Pérez at his house, where she went secretly with a
duenna and two of her bravos as escort, and together these two guilty
ones, terrified lest Escovedo should fulfil his threat, settled to get
him out of the way, and planned how this was to be done. Then Pérez
showed the Princess the writing signed by Philip II, which authorised
him to kill Escovedo, and both decided to use this, given for State
reasons and afterwards retracted, to cover and make secure the secret of
their illicit amours.

We shall see how the crime was carried out.




                              CHAPTER XXII


After his second failure Antonio Pérez lost faith in being able to kill
Escovedo by poison, and with horrible premeditation had entrusted
assassins to do the deed by sword or shot, if the third attempt that he
was planning also miscarried. He entrusted this to his two former
accomplices, the steward Diego Martinez and the page Antonio Enriquez.
Martinez summoned from Aragon two merciless men whom he could trust and
who were skilled in this kind of adventure; one was Juan de Mesa, uncle
of the Gil de Mesa, who, when Antonio Pérez fled to Aragon, figured so
much as his ally; the other a certain Insausti, a typical Italian bravo
of that time, with his quarrelsome air, his formidable sword, and his
matted locks which fell over his ears and head, and could be made to
cover his face like a mask, so that he should not be recognised in his
exploits. For his part Antonio Enriquez recruited at once in Madrid the
scullion from the royal kitchen, Juan Rubio, already an accomplice, and
began to treat with his own half-brother, Miguel Bosque, who was in
Murcia. Enriquez went there to fetch him, and persuaded him at last by
the promise of a hundred golden crowns and the protection of Antonio
Pérez. The two brothers reached Madrid the day on which Escovedo's
innocent slave was hanged in the public square.

When all were in Madrid they hid from each other, each in his hole, like
reptiles that dreaded the sunlight, waiting until the hour for the crime
had struck. Escovedo, then recovering from the third attempt to poison
him, did not yet go out. But very soon Diego Martinez made an
assignation with his gang, at a lonely tile kiln, which was about half a
league from Madrid, outside the gate of Guadalajara. He told them that
the Lord Antonio had gone to Alcalá to spend Holy Week, and had left
orders to make an end of Escovedo before his return, or that of the King
from the Escorial, which were to coincide. Time therefore pressed, and
Diego Martinez hastened to trace out a plan of campaign. He decided that
Insausti should deal the blow, as being the best hand at sword-thrusts
in Aragon, and for the purpose Martinez gave him a very good sword with
a wide blade, grooved to the point. To the rest he distributed daggers
and pistols, if they lacked them, but most of them carried them hidden
in their breeches, according to the practice of ill-doers of the time.
It was also agreed that from that afternoon they should meet in the
square of Santiago as a centre of operations, and from there divide into
distinct groups; one, composed of Insausti, Miguel Bosque and the
scullion Juan Rubio should watch the comings and goings of Escovedo in
the lane of St. Mary, where he lived, and take advantage of the first
opportunity of giving him a thrust; the other three, Juan de Mesa,
Antonio Enriquez and Diego Martinez, were to follow them at a distance
to help if necessary, at any rate to assist their flight.

In that out-of-the-way corner, which even to-day faces the Royal Palace
silent and solitary as an island in the unquiet sea of Madrid, then
lived the nobles, personages of the Court, Grandees and gentlemen who
held appointments in it, and all the life of those days flowed through
its narrow, steep lanes. So it is not extraordinary that nobody noticed
these birds of ill-omen who haunted the lane of St. Mary. At last, on
the 31st of March, that year Easter Monday, the much-sought opportunity
presented itself. At nightfall Escovedo went down the street called
Mayor, towards the gate de la Vega, on his way home. He was alone, as
usual, without page or servant. By his slow, unsteady gait it could be
known that he was still weak from his illness, and as it was cold, he
protected himself from the air by the muffler of his black cloak. Behind
him, at a considerable distance, came the three assassins Insausti,
Miguel Bosque and Juan Rubio, also muffled up in their cloaks,
sauntering along, but not losing a movement of their desired victim.
When Escovedo arrived at the lane of St. Mary, he stopped a moment, as
if to get his breath, and then began to mount the steep <DW72> to his
house. The assassins also pulled up, and after a few hurried words,
separated, Juan Rubio going stealthily to the corner of the lane, then
formed by the great house of the Cuevas, and there stopping to cut off
Escovedo's retreat. Insausti and Miguel Bosque went hastily by what is
to-day the street of the Factor, which formed the other corner of the
Cuevas' house, in order to enter the lane of St. Mary by the other end,
and meet Escovedo face to face. He was impeded not only by his weakness,
but also by the shades of night, which were rapidly gaining possession
of the dark lane, and also by the inequality of the ground, which, as in
all streets of the period, was full of stones and deep holes caused by
the throwing out of water; so the unfortunate secretary walked very
slowly, keeping close to the wall of the church, and gave more than
enough time for the villains to get round and meet him in front of the
house of the Princess de Évoli, which was just at the back of the Cueva
one. Insausti had an unsheathed sword under his cloak and a pistol in
his left hand. Miguel Bosque had a dagger ready and another pistol. They
passed Escovedo, almost brushing against him without attracting his
attention, as he took them for peaceable passers-by. But all at once,
turning round, Insausti rapidly and silently cast himself on Escovedo,
and ran him through the back with a mighty thrust. Escovedo fell forward
without a cry, without an exclamation, only giving a hoarse groan. The
assassin leant over him for a moment to see if a second blow was
necessary, and then at once ran away. Miguel Bosque went up the lane to
get into the Castle Square, Insausti by the Street Mayor, dragging Rubio
with him in his flight, and Diego Martinez, who was a long way off.

Antonio Enriquez ends this declaration by saying: "The death-blow was
given on Easter Monday, the 31st of March. Juan de Mesa and I arrived in
the square of Santiago later than usual; so that the others had left to
lie in wait for the secretary Escovedo to pass. Juan de Mesa and I
wandered round about, and here we heard the rumour that Escovedo had
been killed. Then we went secretly to our houses, and on entering mine I
met Miguel Bosque, wearing a jacket, because in running he had lost his
cloak and pistol. Juan de Mesa met Insausti at his door, also without a
cloak, because he had lost it in his flight, and he took him in to hide
him, and together they threw the sword which killed Escovedo into a well
in the yard; the sword was long and grooved to the point. That same
night Juan Rubio went to Alcalá on a mule which the priest Fernando de
Escobar gave him, to tell Antonio Pérez that all was over, and he asked
if anyone was taken, and hearing that no one had been he was very
pleased."

The assassination of such a well-known personage as Escovedo in the
midst of the streets at Madrid upset all the neighbourhood, and set all
the mayors and "alguaciles" in the city to work. The next day, which was
the 1st of April, they arrested everyone who tried to leave the gates,
and the next day forced all the inn and hotel-keepers to furnish a
detailed list of their inmates. Antonio Pérez ordered the assassins to
remain quiet in their hiding-places, and not to make any noise so long
as the first hot search was being made, and until he could find means of
placing them in safety. He succeeded at last, after a long period of
uneasy waiting, and on the 19th of April they all left Madrid, largely
rewarded. Miguel Bosque received a hundred golden crowns from the hands
of the priest Escobar, and then returned to his native place. Juan de
Mesa went back to Aragon, carrying a gold chain, fifty doubloons, a
beautiful silver cup, and the appointment of agent for the property of
the Princess de Évoli, which she herself gave him. To Insausti, Juan
Rubio, and Antonio Enriquez Antonio Pérez sent by Diego Martinez the
appointment of ensign, with twenty golden crowns of pay, and without
demur they went to their respective posts, Juan Rubio to Milan, Antonio
Enriquez to Naples, and Insausti to Sicily, where he died shortly
afterwards.




                             CHAPTER XXIII


Meanwhile D. John of Austria was not losing time, and heartened by the
first help that Philip II sent, set about to gain all the results
possible from the victory of Gembleux. Since this defeat the rebels had
fallen back towards Brussels, fearful lest D. John was going there, and
he, leaving them in this belief, continued his plan of campaign with
clever strategy, and in little more than a month became master of
Louvain, Bouvignes, Tilemont, Sichem, Diest, Nivelles and Philippeville.
There he stopped, tired out by this hard work, in which fell on him not
only the anxieties of a general, but the duties of a soldier, and there,
too, he received the news of Escovedo's death. This was the finishing
stroke for D. John. It is not known when or through whom the information
came to him; but the fatal news must have come quickly, as already on
the 20th of April he wrote a beautiful letter to Philip, true transcript
of his noble, generous and Christian soul[17].

Footnote 17:

  "Sir. With greater sorrow than I know how to express I have heard of
  the unhappy death of the secretary Escovedo, for which I cannot be
  consoled or ever shall be, as Y.M. has lost such a servant as I know;
  and I, that Y. M. knows; and though I sorrow over this as I do, above
  all I feel it that at the end of many years and services he should
  have ended by such an unworthy death, for having served his King with
  such faithfulness and love without other consideration or practices,
  such as are now in use. And though it is wrong to judge anyone
  hastily, I do not think I am falling into this sin now, as I mention
  no one; but I hold as a fact what I say, and as a man who has had so
  much opportunity, and who knows the frankness with which Escovedo
  treated Y.M.'s service, I fear where it may have come from. But, after
  all, I am not certain, or, not knowing, I will only say, by the love
  of Our Lord, I beg Y.M., with all the earnestness possible, that you
  will not permit such an offence to be committed in your city, or allow
  so great a one to be done to me, without using all possible diligence
  to ascertain whence it comes, and to punish it with the rigour it
  deserves. And although I believe that Y.M. will have already done so
  very thoroughly, and will have done so, being such a Christian and
  justice-observing Prince, all the same, I wish to beg you that, as a
  gentleman, I may defend, and allow to be defended, the honour of one
  who deserved it as much as Escovedo, and this because I am the more
  bound, as with good reason I can imagine myself to have been the cause
  of his death, for that which Y.M. knows better than another. Do not
  take it amiss if I beg not only to remember, and urge, as I shall do
  by each courier, about what concerns the deceased, until justice is
  done and his services remunerated; even if I should overlook the rest,
  that as a gentleman I must do.

  "Again I pray Y.M., as humbly and earnestly as I am able, that it will
  be your pleasure to send me an answer to all these things, as I
  confess to Y.M. that nothing could happen to worry me more than his
  death has done, until everything relating to the deceased is settled.

  "I do not know how he has left his affairs, so I can enter into no
  details, but I beg Y.M. to remember Escovedo's purpose, which was that
  of honour, and the sincerity with which he served you, and of the
  small comfort he leaves in his house, and do all the favours to those
  who remain in it that they deserve, especially to the eldest son, of
  those offices and emoluments which the father held, that Pedro
  Escovedo deserves them, and will go on deserving them more and more,
  if he is employed and favoured, Y.M. knows better than anyone. And
  because I think, according to what he was obliged to spend and the
  little he had, he may have left some debts which might pain his soul,
  and his children and wife here below, I will also beg Y.M. to order
  them to be favoured by the wherewithal to pay them. Although I chiefly
  beg that, being left like a father to the said eldest son, you will do
  me this signal favour of giving him in all everything his father
  enjoyed, because as to the debts I can easily pay the most of the food
  and dress, and what are obliged to be paid, which is the least I can
  do for the repose of him who worked for me till death, as he did, to
  help to enable me to do the best for Y. M.'s service in whatever
  passed through his hands, which he did, as I have claimed and shall
  claim all my life. Consider, Y. M., if these obligations deserve that
  he should have these offices, and if I can be confident that you will
  do this favour, that I ask in all that I beg, and shall beg for
  continually, until the justice and favour that the blood and services
  of the deceased cry out for, are gained."

A little later, while at Namur, he writes on the 3rd of May to his
friend D. Rodrigo de Mendoza: "Of the little I shall say in this, the
first thing shall be how grieved I am at the death of Escovedo, the more
that they do not find out from whence comes such an ill deed; because
certainly, besides how greatly he was needed for H.M.'s service in what
he was looking after, I also wanted him infinitely, and I have lost a
great support, and even more so, I think, in the future. May God rest
him in heaven, and reveal to me who killed him."

And further, he wrote to Gian Andrea Doria on the 7th of June: "Of
Escovedo's unhappy death I do not know what to say, particularly from
such a distance, even if I could say anything were I nearer; but in my
opinion it is a case which asks for prompt action more than words: but
so many suspicions and no certainty stop one's mouth and tie one's
hands, so at present one can only wait and feel what one must about such
a servant and a case like this death of Escovedo."

                  *       *       *       *       *

These are all D. John's papers about Escovedo's death which have come
down to us. Though nothing in these letters shows clearly that he had
sounded all the depths of iniquity hidden behind the treacherous crime,
it is impossible to think to the contrary. From the first moment public
opinion in Madrid pointed at Antonio Pérez and the Princesa de Évoli as
authors of the murder, and even, it is said, came near to the truth; a
fact to be remembered, as those who wrote nearest the event, Van der
Hammen and Cabrera de Córdoba, mention "that to authorise the
assassination, Antonio Pérez gave the assassins a writing signed by the
King, of the sort that are given blank to ambassadors and viceroys to
shorten some business." The declaration of Antonio Enriquez at the
famous trial eleven years later proves that these rumours reached beyond
Spain. "Antonio Enriquez said that in Italy and Flanders it was openly
said that Antonio Pérez killed Escovedo because of the Princesa de
Évoli." It is impossible that these rumours should not have reached the
ears of D. John, or that, with his shrewdness, he should not have put
two and two together, the truth proved to him by the old story of their
intrigue. One fact makes it patent that if D. John knew nothing for
certain, he had at least very strong suspicions that Antonio Pérez was
the murderer of Escovedo. From this time the intimate correspondence
which he kept up with the false secretary abruptly ceases, and he only
replies to the honeyed, flattering letters by stiff and official
dispatches such as could not be avoided between the Governor-General and
the Secretary for Flanders. And further, we think D. John must then have
known, at any rate in part, of the treason and calumnies of Pérez and
the absolute ruin of his credit with D. Philip effected by these means;
which accounts for the depression, despondency, and presentiment of
death that overwhelmed the hero of Lepanto at this time, never to leave
him during his remaining months of life.




                              CHAPTER XXIV


Some people censure as fantastic the scheme of invading England which
the two Pontiffs Pius V and Gregory XIII were always planning, and D.
John as a dreamer, for placing in this project all his aspirations and
ardent desires for glory. But Lord Burghley judged otherwise. He was an
immoral politician, certainly, but the most far-seeing and profound that
England then possessed. In a memorandum all in his own handwriting,
which exists in the British Museum in London, and from which Mignet
quotes, he advises Queen Elizabeth to send prompt aid to the Flemish
rebels. "If the Spaniards succeed in subduing the Low Countries, they
will lose no opportunity of invading England, and will unite their
forces with the malcontents of this kingdom; thus, if D. John finishes
with the States, he will not tarry in turning his arms against Y.M. The
correspondence which is carried on between him and the Queen of Scots
since he arrived in the Low Countries, his interview with the Bishop of
Glasgow, the ambassador of this Queen, and the general opinion that
there is a plan of marriage between him and her, are the reasons which
make for this conclusion. According to those who desire a change of
religion in this kingdom, this marriage is the best and only means for
the return of the kingdom to the Church of Rome. By this marriage D.
John would have a claim to the crown of England, and then it would be
seen that the Pope, the King of France, and the King of Spain, and all
the Catholic Princes would help him; the Pope from religious motives,
the King of France to please the house of Guise and to prevent England
helping the French Protestants, and the King of Spain to settle his
brother advantageously. Therefore, to give aid to the Low Countries is a
means of preservation and defence for this realm."

These grave reasons, which did not seem fantastic to Burghley, decided
Queen Elizabeth and the lords of her Council to help the Flemish rebels
even more openly than they had hitherto done, not only with money, but
also with English and Scotch troops, under the command of Norris. But
they soon saw that the real obstacle to these ends was the person of D.
John, and that nothing and nobody could dismay him or weary out his
patience, or overcome his military skill, and they judged, as Orange had
done before the retreat from Namur, that the shortest and safest way to
conquer this obstacle was to overthrow it by treachery, taking D. John's
life. One warning voice, however, God sent from a prison, and it reached
the ears of D. John, and stopped this new crime.

There was a Spanish merchant in London, a native of Tarragona, called
Antonio de Guaras, rich and respected. He lived in a house belonging to
the Guild of Drapers, with a warehouse and wharf on the Thames, and many
pedlars came there to fit themselves out with things that they
afterwards sold retail, travelling about the counties. But in these
humble pedlars' boats which slowly mounted the Thames, most important
secrets and messages from great personages came to the house of Antonio
de Guaras. The merchant was an Aragonese, and an agent of the Court of
Spain since the time of Henry VIII, and since the arrival of D. John in
Flanders he had constituted himself the most active promoter of the
Spanish invasion of England, and the intermediary between D. John and
the Queen Mary Stuart, at that time a prisoner in Sheffield Castle. D.
John sent his letters for the Queen of Scots to Guaras, and she also
sent him the answers; a very interesting correspondence, of which no
trace remains.

Under the disguise of one of these hucksters the English Jesuit Hort,
whom Gregory XIII had sent to England, together with his Scotch
companion Crichton, to be Papal agent in the business of the Spanish
invasion, came one day to the house of Antonio de Guaras. He came from
Sheffield, and brought a letter in cipher from Mary Stuart for Antonio
de Guaras. He carried it cleverly hidden in a little mirror, which in
these perilous times he always had among his pedlar's wares. In this
letter the Queen of Scots ordered Antonio de Guaras to tell D. John of
the plot that the Council of Queen Elizabeth were scheming against his
life, rumours of which reached Sheffield by one of the many advocates of
the marriage of Mary and D. John, who were numerous, and were working in
England and Scotland. The news was vague, however, as she only talked of
this plot without giving any details, and contented herself by warning
D. John to have a care for his person. "It seems to me that the Lord Don
John should be very careful that he has not near him some greater spies
than faithful servants, English or others."

Guaras, alarmed, hastened to communicate this warning to D. Bernardino
de Mendoza, then ambassador of the Catholic King in London, and a great
partisan of Mary Stuart, who, having more means of action and of
espionage, at last succeeded in unravelling the mystery, as far as was
necessary, and could thus write to Philip II on the 17th of May: "Here
for many days there is talk in the house of Leicester of killing H.H.
(D. John), the talk being renewed by the good opportunity of the war. Of
this I have advised H.H., and also that this Queen on the 10th set free
Edmond Ratcliffe, brother of the Earl of Sussex, who has been confined
in the Tower of London for three years, and because of giving him
liberty very secretly he has been exiled from this kingdom, which is a
thing very seldom or never done, he resolved the moment he regained his
liberty to go and serve H.H.; I have been advised that he is an
intemperate youth, and daring enough for anything, they tell me, so his
sudden liberation and determination can with great reason engender
suspicion."

D. Bernardino did, as he notifies in this letter, write to D. John, and
also sent him a portrait of Ratcliffe, that he should recognise him and
be prepared at once if he came. The assassin did not fail to arrive. D.
John was in his camp at Tirlemont, and when giving audiences one day,
suddenly saw Edmond Ratcliffe enter his tent, humbly begging the favour
of a hearing. He had entered the camp, in spite of the vigilance of the
sentries, and had hidden two light Hungarian horses in a wood near to
ensure his flight, in the event of his being able to strike the blow. D.
John knew him in a moment, from the picture D. Bernardino had sent, and
without displaying the least surprise or mistrust, graciously ordered
him to speak. At the same time he called his valet Bernardino Ducarte in
the most natural manner, and secretly gave him an order for the Captain
of the Guard to take the gentleman, whenever he left the tent, and give
him over to the Provost-General of the camp. Ratcliffe explained to D.
John, with the most refined hypocrisy, who he was and what he wanted. He
said that he was a son of the old Earl of Sussex and a Catholic, but
having disagreed with his eldest brother on religious questions, and
wishing to assure living and dying in the Roman faith, he had fled from
England to offer his services to the Catholic King, and only begged D.
John for a post in the army, and pay according to his grade, as he had a
wife and little children to keep. And as he spoke the miscreant was
waiting and calculating where to give the wound.

D. John listened to him, looking him up and down, and not losing a
single one of his movements, at last answering him affably, praising his
religious faith and his ideas, and promising, in the name of the King,
to help him to fulfil them. While this conversation was being carried on
the two walked slowly about in the tent, and Ratcliffe tried to arrange
that the walk should be prolonged outside, as was D. John's custom when
finishing audiences, in order that, amused by the talk, he should go on
a few steps. His intention was then to plunge a poisoned dagger, which
he had ready, in D. John's heart, leave the weapon in the wound, and
hurry off to the wood, where his horses were waiting. But D. John, as if
he liked to sport with danger, went to the door, took a step or two
outside, and then returned to the end of the tent, until, intimating
that the audience was over, he took leave of Ratcliffe until the next
day, "when he would seek employment for him." Ratcliffe retired,
promising himself to do on the second visit what he had failed to do on
the first; but hardly had he set foot outside the tent than D. John's
Captain of the Guard arrested him, and handed him over to the Provost.
Ratcliffe protested his innocence at first, but being put to the torture
he confessed fully all we have told. He was not executed during the
lifetime of D. John, but after his death Alexander Farnese ordered him
to be decapitated with his accomplice, also an Englishman, who waited
with the horses in the wood.

On the 16th of January, 1579, D. Bernardino de Mendoza wrote to Philip
II from London:

    "The Prince of Parma has had justice done to the two Englishmen
    about whom I wrote on the 16th of May, who left here with orders
    to kill the Lord D. John, God rest his soul. The Queen said with
    much annoyance, when she received the news from Walsingham, that
    it was the result of advice he and others had given, and the
    pass to which things were brought, which words Walsingham felt
    so much, that he came to this place from Court the next day with
    fever."




                              CHAPTER XXV


At nightfall on Tuesday, the 16th of September, 1578, D. John suddenly
felt the intense cold of fever and general lassitude. The fever lasted
all night, and the next day, although still unwell, and with a bad
headache, he got up at his usual time, heard Mass, did his business,
held a council, and visited several quarters. This was at the camp of
Tirlemont, where D. John had moved the royal troops after the famous
battle of Mechlin, the last at which he commanded, and at which he did
such valiant deeds. The plague was decimating the camp of the rebels,
and although the infection had not penetrated to that of D. John, his
soldiers suffered from diarrhæa, especially the Germans, who were
intemperate in what they ate, and not careful about what they drank.
This, with reason, worried D. John, and he took infinite precautions to
avoid the contagion, inspecting everything himself, making daily rounds,
visiting the sick in their huts, helping and cheering them, and
striving, above all, that none died without receiving the Viaticum,
which he usually accompanied. This matter of the Sacraments, as being
transcendental and eternal, he had committed to his then confessor, the
Franciscan Fr. Francisco de Orantes, in order that he might urge and
watch over the many ecclesiastics in the camp, because D. John, who
always had taken much care of the spiritual welfare of his troops, had
in these latter days, according to Vander Hammen and Cabrera de Córdoba,
made his camp into a real convent of monks.

It was feared, therefore, that this sudden illness of D. John was the
forerunner of the plague, and this fear was strengthened when the same
symptoms showed themselves in three or four gentlemen of his household,
of those who attended him most closely, among them the venerable Gabrio
Cervelloni, who was already seventy, and was then, by D. John's orders,
making a fort on the heights of Bouges, in front of the camp at
Tirlemont, and scarcely a league from Namur. Alarm was ended on the
fourth day, seeing that the fever and other ills left D. John. But the
next day, which was a Saturday, he suddenly grew worse, and while the
other invalids went on getting better and became convalescent, he showed
other symptoms of a strange illness, palpitations which made him get up
in bed, tremblings of the hands, arms, tongue and eyes, and red spots
showed themselves, others livid and almost blue, with black, rough
heads.

Then another suspicion spread through the camp, which historians of old
have transmitted to us, and which the fresh facts and discoveries of
modern ones make probable. They said that D. John had been poisoned
during his recovery, and Vander Hammen goes so far as to point to the
hand which was the instrument of the crime. "This made his household
suspect," he says, "that he was poisoned, and that Doctor Ramirez had
given him something in his broth." And in the diary of D. John's
illness, kept by his doctor, the original of which Porreño inserts in
his life of the hero of Lepanto, these words are to be read: "With some
suspicion, the antidote for poison was used, sometimes externally,
sometimes internally."

Public opinion, not only in the camp, but wherever the news reached, at
once pointed to the Queen of England or the Prince of Orange as authors
of the suspected crime. Ratcliffe's recent attempt and the various
defeated ones of Orange justified this bad opinion, and the application
of the judicial principle "cui prodest" fits like a glove either the
heretic Queen or the apostate Prince.

But nobody could then suspect that the sinister "cui prodest" suits the
Secretary Antonio Pérez better than anyone else, because nobody yet knew
that he, more than anyone, was interested in the disappearance from the
world's stage of D. John. It must have been a nightmare for Antonio
Pérez, even to dream that D. John might return to Spain, knowing, or at
least suspecting, the crimes, infamies and artifices of which he had
been the victim. And once put on the scent, investigating, proving,
becoming certain, with his right and terrible thirst for justice, in a
single interview with the King, his brother, he could bring everything
to light, and sink Antonio Pérez in that abyss of infamy and iniquity in
which the hand of God buried him later. It is, therefore, very probable
that Antonio Pérez, believing at last that D. John of Austria would
return to Spain, would try to keep him away for ever with "the broth of
Doctor Ramirez," or by some similar means; and it is the general opinion
at present that if D. John's death were caused by crime (although it is
not sufficiently proved), it might be as justly attributed to the Queen
of England, or the Prince of Orange as to the secretary Antonio Pérez;
all three were capable of it, and for divers reasons all three gained
great advantages by the death of the conqueror of Lepanto.

But be this as it may, it is certain that from the first moment of his
relapse D. John understood that he was dying, and that his hoped-for end
was coming to him—

                          ... que non ha dolor
                Del home que sea grande ni cuytado.[18]

Footnote 18:

                          ... Which has no pain
                     For the great man, nor anxiety.

He therefore made ready to receive death with perfect, manly courage,
with the dignity of a Prince and the humility of a Christian, and his
first arrangement was that he should be conveyed to the fort which
Gabrio Cervelloni was then making a league away. He ordered himself to
be carried on a stretcher by his servants, without order or arrangement,
to prevent the soldiers having the grief of saying good-bye to him, and
to cause no one alarm or trouble. There remained inside the surrounding
wall of the fort the only part yet finished, a hut, or rather a pigeon
house, where D. Bernardino de Zúñiga, D. John's Captain of Infantry,
lodged, and there he ordered himself to be taken to disturb no one.
"There was only," says Vander Hammen, "a pigeon house to make him a
chamber." They cleared out the young pigeons, cleaned it, hung a few
coverings on the ceilings and wall to exclude the light, and over them
some pieces of cloth, which they sprinkled with perfumed waters, and
made a wooden staircase for mounting to it. The father confessor Fr.
Francisco de Orantes writes to Philip II: "He died in a hut, as poorly
as a soldier. I assure Y.M. there was nothing but a cock-loft over a
farm-yard, in order that in this he should imitate the poverty of
Christ."

All this took place on Saturday, the 20th, and on Sunday, the 21st, very
early in the morning, D. John ordered his confessor, Fray Francisco de
Orantes, to be called, and with great humility and with much sorrow for
his sins he made a general confession of his life, with the eagerness
and fervour of one who is preparing to die; and although the doctors
still held out hopes of saving his life, and tried to dissuade him, he
asked for the Viaticum, and received it with great devotion and fervour,
at a mass celebrated in his room by the Jesuit Juan Fernández. Then he
sent for all his Field-Marshals to his miserable retreat, also the
Councillors of State and other personages attached to the army, and
before them solemnly resigned the command and gave the baton to
Alexander Farnese, Prince of Parma, who was present, kneeling at the
foot of the bed, and so overcome and afflicted because of his great love
for D. John, that he buried his forehead in the bed-clothes, and the
Count de Mansfeld had to lift him up and comfort him. It was an
extraordinary thing, which moved and brought tears to the eyes of all
those veterans, to see that thunderbolt of war, Alexander Farnese,
daring and brave and of indomitable courage, afflicted and overcome like
a weak woman on receiving the supreme command from the hands of his
dying friend and kinsman.

Then he directed his confessor Fr. Francisco de Orantes to declare
before them all what D. John had already told him privately. That he
left no will, because he possessed nothing which was not his Lord and
Master the King's. That he commended his body and soul to the King; his
soul in order that the King should order suffrages to be made for the
great need there was; his body that it might be buried near that of his
Lord and father the Emperor, by which he should consider his services
were repaid. But if this were not so, then that they should give him
burial in the monastery of Our Lady of Montserrat. Item, he begged the
King to look after his mother and brother. Item, to look after his
servants, pay them and reward them, because he died so poor that he
could not do so. "As to my personal debts and bills," he said at the
end, "they are very few and are very clear."

He said this with great firmness, taking leave of them all with his
hand, and himself taking leave of the things of earth to think and speak
of nothing beyond those of heaven.

He, however, retained Father Juan Fernández, and showing him a little
manuscript book which he kept under his pillow, said these were the
prayers which he recited every day, without ever missing one in his
life, and as the dreadful pain in his head troubled his sight, so that
he could not read, begged the father, for the love of God and for the
love of him, to do him the favour of reciting them in his name. Much
moved, the father promised, and, according to his own testimony, it took
him a good hour to recite those prayers which the devout Prince said
"every day of his life," in the midst of the fatigues of war, the
occupations of Governor, and, most difficult of all, in the midst of the
dissipations of worldly pleasures. The little book was all in D. John's
writing. It began with the baby prayers he had learnt in his childhood
from Doña Magdalena de Ulloa; then followed various pious exercises, and
it ended with several prayers composed by D. John himself, according as
he had been inspired in the course of his life, by his difficulties, his
sorrows, hopes and joys, and his warm effusions of thanksgiving. In
short, it was an index, showing his attitude towards God in all the
events of his life, which the grateful heart of D. John daily
remembered, and which only the holy Father Juan Fernández had the
happiness of knowing.

It was this father who, a few months later, under the command of
Alexander Farnese, performed the extraordinary deed of heroism, at the
same time an act of incredible charity, in the trench of Maestricht,
which we have told in another place. D. John had known him in Luxemburg,
on his first arrival, and astonished at his holiness, prudence and
learning, and profoundly struck by his untiring zeal for the welfare of
the soldiers, attached him at once to the army, and took him everywhere;
and although he was not D. John's official confessor, he confessed to
him often, and consulted him privately in all difficult matters. During
D. John's short last illness, together with Fr. Francisco de Orantes, he
assisted him all the time, and when D. John's dreadful headache and
delirium left him, the father sustained him with spiritual talks which
maintained the sick man in his peace and resignation, and gave the
Jesuit the ineffable comfort that the just experience before the marvels
of Divine Grace.

In one of these conversations D. John told P. Juan Fernández of his firm
determination, taken four months beforehand, if God spared his life in
Flanders, to retire for ever from the world to the hermitage of
Montserrat, there to serve "that Lord who could and would do much more
for him than his brother D. Philip." A bitter phrase this, which
without, as some have thought, censuring Philip (because there would be
none in supposing greater power and love in the King of heaven than in
the most powerful and saintly King on earth), still reveals the profound
disillusionment which had taken hold of the victor of Lepanto, for the
last four months, that is to say since the death of Escovedo.

[Illustration:

  _Photo Anderson_


  D. JOHN OF AUSTRIA'S PLACE OF BURIAL

  _Escorial and surrounding country, present day_
]

The illness gained ground rapidly; each day, even each hour, produced
some new, strange and painful symptom. At times he was seized with
fainting fits, in which he appeared to have drawn his last breath, at
others with delirium of wild things and of war, in which he always
imagined himself commanding in a battle, and from which he was only
drawn by the names of Jesus and Mary, which Fathers Orantes and
Fernández invoked in his hearing. On the 30th D. John felt so weak that
he again desired to receive the Viaticum, and charged Fr. Francisco de
Orantes to give him extreme unction in time, whenever he judged that the
moment had come. At nightfall that day the confessor thought that the
time had arrived, and administered the last Sacrament to him, which D.
John received with great devotion and perfect consciousness, in the
presence of all the Field-Marshals and other personages who were crowded
into the narrow precincts.

No one slept that night in fort or camp, and continually messengers went
to and fro, bearers of sad news. At dawn Father Juan Fernández said mass
at the bedside, thinking D. John unconscious, as his eyes were already
closed; but being told by the confessor that the Host was being raised,
he quickly took off his cap and did reverence. At nine o'clock he seemed
somewhat to revive, and then he was taken with a fresh delirium, in
which, with extraordinary strength, he began to get angry with the
soldiers, commanding in a battle, giving orders to the battalions,
calling the captains by name, sending horses flying, reproving them at
times because they allowed themselves to be cut off by the enemy,
calling others to victory with eyes, hands and voice, always clamouring
for the Marqués de Santa Cruz, whom he called "D. Álvaro, my friend,"
his guide, master, and his right hand.

"Jesus! Jesus! Mary!" implored the confessor. "Jesus! Jesus! Mary!" at
last repeated D. John of Austria, and, repeating these holy names,
became gradually calmer, until he sank into a profound lethargy,
forerunner, doubtless, of death, with his eyes shut, his body inert,
with the Crucifix of the Moors on his breast, where P. Juan Fernández
had placed it, the only sign of life being his difficult, uneven
breathing.

They all knelt, believing that the supreme moment had come, and the two
priests began to recite by turns the prayers for the dying. Suddenly,
about eleven o'clock, D. John gave a great sigh, and they heard him
distinctly articulate in a weak but clear, sweet, plaintive voice, like
a child calling to its mother, "Aunt! Aunt! My lady Aunt!"

And this was all. For two hours the lethargy lasted, and at half-past
one, without effort, trouble, or any violence, he gasped twice, and the
soul of "That John sent by God" fled to His bosom to render account of
the mission which had been confided to him.

                  *       *       *       *       *

Had he really fulfilled it? Was the mission of D. John of Austria to
drown in the waters of Lepanto the great power of the Turk, threat to
the faith of Christ and to the liberty of Europe, or did the mission
also extend to conquering the kingdom of England, and bringing back that
great people to the fold of the Catholic Church, as Christ's two Vicars
Pius V and Gregory XIII wished and thought?

If it were so, D. John of Austria can well liquidate his debt before the
Divine Tribunal, giving for only answer those words of Christ to St.
Theresa, which so alarmingly show the fearful reach of human free will:
"Theresa! I wished it, but men did not wish it."

                           ------------------

Eusebio Nieremberg, in his life of the P. Juan Fernández, relates this
strange circumstance relative to D. John of Austria:

    "A few days later (after D. John's death) he appeared to the
    father, who was at one of the colleges, and said, 'Father Juan
    Fernández, why have you forgotten friends?' 'I have not
    forgotten, my lord, but what have I got to do?' Then he told him
    that he must help him with his suffrages and do certain things.
    The servant of God did all he asked with much celerity and
    earnestness, saying masses and prayers and doing penances for
    him, and making others do the same. At the end of a few days he
    appeared again, shining and glorious, saying that he was in
    heaven and was very grateful for the good works they had done
    for him."

                           ------------------

Don John was buried first in the Cathedral at Namur, but the following
spring his body (except his intestines) was conveyed to Spain by orders
of Philip II and buried with much pomp in the Escorial. The story of the
body being cut in pieces at the joints and placed in three leather bags
on the pack saddle of a horse for the journey, is too well known not to
be mentioned here. Sir William Stirling Maxwell says that it was to
avoid "expense and the troublesome questions which were in those days
likely to arise between the clergy and magistracy of the towns through
which a royal corpse was publicly carried." (Translator.)


                                The End.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A Page From
  THE WORKS OF ANATOLE FRANCE
]




                              THE WORKS OF
                             ANATOLE FRANCE


It has long been a reproach to England that only one volume by ANATOLE
FRANCE has been adequately rendered into English; yet outside this
country he shares with TOLSTOI the distinction of being the greatest and
most daring student of humanity living.

¶ There have been many difficulties to encounter in completing
arrangements for a uniform edition, though perhaps the chief barrier to
publication here has been the fact that his writings are not for
babes—but for men and the mothers of men. Indeed, some of his Eastern
romances are written with biblical candour. "I have sought truth
strenuously," he tells us, "I have met her boldly. I have never turned
from her even when she wore an unexpected aspect." Still, it is believed
that the day has come for giving English versions of all his imaginative
works, as well as of his monumental study JOAN OF ARC, which is
undoubtedly the most discussed book in the world of letters to-day.

¶ Mr. John Lane has pleasure in announcing that the following volumes
are either already published or are passing through the press.

               THE RED LILY

               MOTHER OF PEARL

               THE GARDEN OF EPICURUS

               THE CRIME OF SYLVESTRE BONNARD

               BALTHASAR

               THE WELL OF ST. CLARE

               THAÏS

               THE WHITE STONE

               PENGUIN ISLAND

               THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNE BROCHE

               JOCASTA AND THE FAMISHED CAT

               THE ELM TREE ON THE MALL

               THE WICKER-WORK WOMAN

               AT THE SIGN OF THE REINE PEDAUQUE

               THE OPINIONS OF JEROME COIGNARD

               MY FRIEND'S BOOK

               THE ASPIRATIONS OF JEAN SERVIEN

               LIFE AND LETTERS (4 vols.)

               JOAN OF ARC (2 vols.)

¶ All the books will be published at 6/- each with the exception of JOAN
OF ARC, which will be 25/- net the two volumes, with eight
Illustrations.

¶ The format of the volumes leaves little to be desired. The size is
Demy 8vo (9 × 5-3/4), and they are printed from Caslon type upon a paper
light in weight and strong of texture, with a cover design in crimson
and gold, a gilt top, end-papers from designs by Aubrey Beardsley and
initials by Henry Ospovat. In short, these are volumes for the
bibliophile as well as the lover of fiction, and form perhaps the
cheapest library edition of copyright novels ever published, for the
price is only that of an ordinary novel.

¶ The translation of these books has been entrusted to such competent
French scholars as MR. ALFRED ALLINSON, MR. FREDERIC CHAPMAN, MR. ROBERT
B. DOUGLAS, MR. A. W. EVANS, MRS. FARLEY, MR. LAFCADIO HEARN, MRS. W. S.
JACKSON, MRS. JOHN LANE, MRS. NEWMARCH, MR. C. E. ROCHE, MISS WINIFRED
STEPHENS, AND MISS M. P. WILLCOCKS.

¶ As Anatole Thibault, _dit_ Anatole France, is to most English readers
merely a name, it will be well to state that he was born in 1844 in the
picturesque and inspiring surroundings of an old bookshop on the Quai
Voltaire, Paris, kept by his father, Monsieur Thibault, an authority on
eighteenth-century history, from whom the boy caught the passion for the
principles of the Revolution, while from his mother he was learning to
love the ascetic ideals chronicled in the Lives of the Saints. He was
schooled with the lovers of old books, missals and manuscript; he
matriculated on the Quais with the old Jewish dealers of curios and
_objets d'art_; he graduated in the great university of life and
experience. It will be recognised that all his work is permeated by his
youthful impressions; he is, in fact, a virtuoso at large.

¶ He has written about thirty volumes of fiction. His first novel was
JOCASTA & THE FAMISHED CAT (1879). THE CRIME OF SYLVESTRE BONNARD
appeared in 1881, and had the distinction of being crowned by the French
Academy, into which he was received in 1896.

¶ His work is illuminated with style, scholarship, and psychology; but
its outstanding features are the lambent wit, the gay mockery, the
genial irony with which he touches every subject he treats. But the wit
is never malicious, the mockery never derisive, the irony never barbed.
To quote from his own GARDEN OF EPICURUS: "Irony and Pity are both of
good counsel; the first with her smiles makes life agreeable, the other
sanctifies it to us with her tears. The Irony I invoke is no cruel
deity. She mocks neither love nor beauty. She is gentle and kindly
disposed. Her mirth disarms anger and it is she teaches us to laugh at
rogues and fools whom but for her we might be so weak as to hate."

¶ Often he shows how divine humanity triumphs over mere asceticism, and
with entire reverence; indeed, he might be described as an ascetic
overflowing with humanity, just as he has been termed a "pagan, but a
pagan constantly haunted by the pre-occupation of Christ." He is in
turn—like his own Choulette in THE RED LILY—saintly and Rabelaisian, yet
without incongruity. At all times he is the unrelenting foe of
superstition and hypocrisy. Of himself he once modestly said: "You will
find in my writings perfect sincerity (lying demands a talent I do not
possess), much indulgence, and some natural affection for the beautiful
and good."

¶ The mere extent of an author's popularity is perhaps a poor argument,
yet it is significant that two books by this author are in their HUNDRED
AND TENTH THOUSAND, and numbers of them well into their SEVENTIETH
THOUSAND, whilst the one which a Frenchman recently described as
"Monsieur France's most arid book" is in its FIFTY-EIGHTH-THOUSAND.

¶ Inasmuch as M. FRANCE'S ONLY contribution to an English periodical
appeared in THE YELLOW BOOK, vol. v., April 1895, together with the
first important English appreciation of his work from the pen of the
Hon. Maurice Baring, it is peculiarly appropriate that the English
edition of his works should be issued from the Bodley Head.

                              ORDER FORM.

                                          ___________________________ 19

To Mr. _____________________________

                             _Bookseller_.

_Please send me the following works of Anatole France_:

                THAÏS

                PENGUIN ISLAND

                BALTHASAR

                THE WHITE STONE

                THE RED LILY

                MOTHER OF PEARL

                THE GARDEN OF EPICURUS

                THE CRIME OF SYLVESTRE BONNARD

                THE WELL OF ST. CLARE

                THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE

                THE ELM TREE ON THE MALL

                THE WICKER-WORK WOMAN

                JOCASTA AND THE FAMISHED CAT

                JOAN OF ARC (2 VOLS.)

                LIFE AND LETTERS (4 VOLS.)

_for which I enclose_ _______________

              _Name_ _____________________________________

              _Address_ __________________________________

      JOHN LANE, PUBLISHER. THE BODLEY HEAD, VIGO ST., LONDON, W.


                                _NOTICE_


_Those who possess old letters, documents, correspondence, MSS., scraps
of autobiography, and also miniatures and portraits, relating to persons
and matters historical, literary, political and social, should
communicate with Mr. John Lane, The Bodley Head, Vigo Street, London,
W., who will at all times be pleased to give his advice and assistance,
either as to their preservation or publication._


                        LIVING MASTERS OF MUSIC.

            An Illustrated Series of Monographs dealing with
                Contemporary Musical Life, and including
              Representatives of all Branches of the Art.

                        Edited by ROSA NEWMARCH.

               Crown 8vo.      Cloth.      Price 2/6 net.

HENRY J. WOOD. By ROSA NEWMARCH.

SIR EDWARD ELGAR. By R. J. BUCKLEY.

JOSEPH JOACHIM. By J. A. FULLER MAITLAND.

EDWARD A. MACDOWELL. By LAWRENCE GILMAN.

THEODOR LESCHETIZKY. By ANNETTE HULLAH.

GIACOMO PUCCINI. By WAKELING DRY.

IGNAZ PADEREWSKI. By E. A. BAUGHAN.

CLAUDE DEBUSSY. By MRS. FRANZ LIEBICH.

RICHARD STRAUSS. By ERNEST NEWMAN.


                           STARS OF THE STAGE

A SERIES OF ILLUSTRATED BIOGRAPHIES OF THE LEADING ACTORS, ACTRESSES,
AND DRAMATISTS.

                         Edited by J. T. GREIN.

                     Crown 8vo. Price 2/6 each net.

ELLEN TERRY. By CHRISTOPHER ST. JOHN.

SIR HERBERT BEERBOHM TREE. By MRS. GEORGE CRAN.

SIR W. S. GILBERT. By EDITH A. BROWNE.

SIR CHARLES WYNDHAM. By FLORENCE TEIGNMOUTH SHORE.




                            _A CATALOGUE OF
                      MEMOIRS, BIOGRAPHIES, ETC._


THE LAND OF TECK & ITS SURROUNDINGS.

By Rev. S. BARING-GOULD. With numerous Illustrations (including several
in Colour) reproduced from unique originals.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 10_s._ 6_d._ net.

AN IRISH BEAUTY OF THE REGENCY:

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The Irish Beauty is the Hon. Mrs. Calvert, daughter of Viscount Pery,
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P., of Hunsdson. Born in 1767, Mrs. Calvert lived to the age of
ninety-two, and there are many people still living who remember her. In
the delightful journals, now for the first time published, exciting
events are described.

NAPOLEON IN CARICATURE: 1795-1821.

By A. M. BROADLEY. With an Introductory Essay on Pictorial Satire as a
Factor in Napoleonic History, by J. HOLLAND ROSE, Litt. D. (Cantab.).
With 24 full-page Illustrations in Colour and upwards of 200 in Black
and White from rare and unique originals. 2 Vols.

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_Also an Edition de Luxe._ 10 guineas net.

MEMORIES OF SIXTY YEARS AT ETON,

CAMBRIDGE AND ELSEWHERE.

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THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.

By STEWART HOUSTON CHAMBERLAIN. A Translation from the German by JOHN
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THE SPEAKERS OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS

From the Earliest Times to the Present Day, with a Topographical Account
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WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH AND HIS FRIENDS.

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NAPOLEON AND KING MURAT. 1808-1815:

A Biography compiled from hitherto Unknown and Unpublished Documents. By
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LADY CHARLOTTE SCHREIBER'S JOURNALS

Confidences of a Collector of Ceramics and Antiques throughout Britain,
France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Holland, Belgium, Switzerland, and
Turkey. From the Year 1869 to 1885.

Edited by MONTAGUE GUEST, with Annotations by EGAN MEW. With upwards of
100 Illustrations, including 8 in colour and 2 in photogravure.

Royal 8vo. 2 Volumes. 42_s._ net.

CHARLES DE BOURBON, CONSTABLE OF FRANCE:

"THE GREAT CONDOTTIERE."

By CHRISTOPHER HARE. With a Photogravure Frontispiece and 16 other
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THE NELSONS OF BURNHAM THORPE: A Record of a Norfolk Family compiled
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MATCHAM. With a Photogravure Frontispiece and 16 other Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 16_s._ net.

This interesting contribution to Nelson literature is drawn from the
journals and correspondence of the Rev. Edmund Nelson. Rector of Burnham
Thorpe and his youngest daughter, the father and sister of Lord Nelson.
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find him maintaining friendly relations with his son and daughter-in-law
after their separation. What is even more strange, he felt perfectly at
liberty to go direct from the house of Mrs. Horatio Nelson in Norfolk to
that of Sir. William and Lady Hamilton in London, where his son was
staying. This book shows how completely and without reserve the family
received Lady Hamilton.

A QUEEN OF SHREDS AND PATCHES:

 The Life of Madame Tallien Notre Dame de Thermidor. From the last days
of the French Revolution, until her death as Princess Chimay in 1835. By
L. GASTINE. Translated from the French by J. LEWIS MAY. With a
Photogravure Frontispiece and 16 other Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

SOPHIE DAWES, QUEEN OF CHANTILLY.

By VIOLETTE M. MONTAGU. Author of "The Scottish College in Paris," etc.
With a Photogravure Frontispiece and 16 other Illustrations and Three
Plans.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

Among the many queens of France, queens by right of marriage with the
reigning sovereign, queens of beauty or of intrigue, the name of Sophie
Dawes, the daughter of humble fisherfolk in the Isle of Wight, better
known as "the notorious Mme. de Feucheres," "The Queen of Chantilly" and
"The Montespan de Saint Leu" in the land which she chose as a suitable
sphere in which to exercise her talents for money-making and for getting
on in the world, stand forth as a proof of what a women's will can
accomplish when that will is accompanied with an uncommon share of
intelligence.

MARGARET OF FRANCE DUCHESS OF SAVOY. 1523-1574.

A Biography with Photogravure Frontispiece and 16 other Illustrations
and Facsimile Reproductions of Hitherto Unpublished Letters.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

A time when the Italians are celebrating the Jubilee of the Italian
Kingdom is perhaps no unfitting moment in which to glance back over the
annals of that royal House of Savoy which has rendered Italian unity
possible. Margaret of France may without exaggeration be counted among
the builders of modern Italy. She married Emanuel Philibert, the founder
of Savoyard greatness: and from the day of her marriage until the day of
her death she laboured to advance the interests of her adopted land.

MADAME DE BRINVILLIERS AND HER TIMES. 1630-1676.

By HUGH STOKES. With a Photogravure Frontispiece and 16 other
Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

The name of Marie Marguerite d'Aubray, Marquise de Brinvilliers, is
famous in the annals of crime, but the true history of her career is
little known. A woman of birth and rank, she was also a remorseless
poisoner, and her trial was one of the most sensational episodes of the
early reign of Louis XIV. The author was attracted to this curious
subject by Charles le Brun's realistic sketch of the unhappy Marquise as
she appeared on her way to execution. This _chef d'oeuvre_ of misery and
agony forms the frontispiece to the volume, and strikes a fitting
keynote to an absorbing story of human passion and wrong-doing.

THE VICISSITUDES OF A LADY-IN-WAITING. 1735-1821.

By EUGENE WELVERT. Translated from the French by LILIAN O'NEILL. With a
Photogravure Frontispiece and 16 other Illustrations

 Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

The Duchesse de Narbonne-Lara was Lady-in-Waiting to Madame Adelaide,
the eldest daughter of Louis XV. Around the stately figure of this
Princess are gathered the most remarkable characters of the days of the
Old Regime, the Revolution and the first Empire. The great charm of the
work is that it takes us over so much and varied ground. Here, in the
gay crowd of ladies and courtiers, in the rustle of flowery silken
paniers, in the clatter of high-heeled shoes, move the figures of Louis
XV., Louis XVI., Du Barri and Marie-Antoinette. We catch picturesque
glimpses of the great wits, diplomatists and soldiers of the time,
until, finally we encounter Napoleon Bonaparte.

ANNALS OF A YORKSHIRE HOUSE.

From the Papers of a Macaroni and his Kindred. By A. M. W. STIRLING,
author of "Coke of Norfolk and his Friends." With 33 Illustrations,
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MINIATURES:

A Series of Reproductions in Photogravure of Eighty-Five Miniatures of
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for sale in England and America, and Twenty-Five Copies for
Presentation, Review, and the Museums. Each will be Numbered and Signed
by the Artist.

15 guineas net.

THE LAST JOURNALS OF HORACE WALPOLE.

During the Reign of George III. from 1771-1783. With Notes by Dr. DORAN.
Edited with an Introduction by A. FRANCIS STEUART, and containing
numerous Portraits reproduced from contemporary Pictures, Engravings,
etc. 2 vols.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 25_s._ net.

THE WAR IN WEXFORD.

By H. F. B. WHEELER AND A. M. BROADLEY. An Account of The Rebellion in
South of Ireland in 1798, told from Original Documents. With numerous
Reproductions of contemporary Portraits and Engravings.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

RECOLLECTIONS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT.

By His Valet FRANÇOIS.

Translated from the French by MAURICE REYNOLD.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 7_s._ 6_d._ net.

FAMOUS AMERICANS IN PARIS.

By JOHN JOSEPH CONWAY, M.A. With 32 Full-page Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 10_s._ 6_d._ net.

LIFE AND MEMOIRS OF JOHN CHURTON COLLINS.

Written and Compiled by his son, L. C. COLLINS.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 7_s._ 6_d._ net.

THE WIFE OF GENERAL BONAPARTE.

By JOSEPH TURQUAN. Author of "The Love Affairs of Napoleon," etc.
Translated from the French by Miss VIOLETTE MONTAGU. With a Photogravure
Frontispiece and 16 other Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

Although much has been written concerning the Empress Josephine, we know
comparatively little about the _veuve_ Beauharnais and the _citoyenne_
Bonaparte, whose inconsiderate conduct during her husband's absence
caused him so much anguish. We are so accustomed to consider Josephine
as the innocent victim of a cold and calculating tyrant who allowed
nothing, neither human lives nor natural affections, to stand in the way
of his all-conquering will, that this volume will come to us rather as a
surprise. Modern historians are over-fond of blaming Napoleon for having
divorced the companion of his early years; but after having read the
above work, the reader will be constrained to admire General Bonaparte's
forbearance and will wonder how he ever came to allow her to play the
Queen at the Tuileries.

A SISTER OF PRINCE RUPERT.

ELIZABETH PRINCESS PALATINE,

ABBESS OF HERFORD.

By ELIZABETH GODFREY. With numerous Illustrations.

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AUGUSTUS SAINT GAUDENS: an Appreciation.

By C. LEWIS HIND. Illustrated with 47 full-page Reproductions from his
most famous works. With a portrait of Keynon Cox.

Large 4to. 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY AND HIS FAMILY:

By Mrs. HERBERT ST. JOHN MILDMAY. Further Letters and Records, edited by
his Daughter and Herbert St. John Mildmay, with numerous Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 16_s._ net.

SIMON BOLIVAR: El Libertador.

 A Life of the Leader of the Venezuelan Revolt against Spain.

By F. LORAINE PETRE. With a Map and Illustrations.

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A LIFE OF SIR JOSEPH BANKS,

PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY:

With Some Notices of His Friends and Contemporaries.

By EDWARD SMITH, F.R.H.S., Author of "WILLIAM COBBETT: a Biography,"
"England and America after the Independence," etc. With a Portrait in
Photogravure and 16 other Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

"The greatest living Englishman" was the tribute of his Continental
contemporaries to Sir. Joseph Banks. The author of his "Life" has, with
some enthusiasm, sketched the record of a man who for a period of half a
century filled a very prominent place in society, but whose name is
almost forgotten by the present generation.

NAPOLEON & THE INVASION OF ENGLAND:

The Story of the Great Terror, 1797-1805. By H. F. B. WHEELER and A. M.
BROADLEY. With upwards of 100 Full-page Illustrations reproduced from
Contemporary Portraits, Prints, etc.; eight in Colour. 2 Volumes.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 32_s._ net.

_Outlook._—"The book is not merely one to be ordered from the library;
it should be purchased, kept on an accessible shelf, and constantly
studied by all Englishmen who love England."

DUMOURIEZ AND THE DEFENCE OF

ENGLAND AGAINST NAPOLEON.

By J. HOLLAND ROSE, Litt.D. (Cantab.), Author of "The Life of Napoleon,"
and A. M. BROADLEY, joint-author of "Napoleon and the Invasion of
England." Illustrated with numerous Portraits, Maps, and Facsimiles.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 21_s._ net.

THE FALL OF NAPOLEON.

By OSCAR BROWNING, M.A., Author of "The Boyhood and Youth of Napoleon."
With numerous Full-page Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches). 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

_Spectator._—"Without doubt Mr. Oscar Browning has produced a book which
should have its place in any library of Napoleonic literature."

_Truth._—"Mr. Oscar Browning has made not the least, but the most of the
romantic material at his command for the story of the fall of the
greatest figure in history."

THE BOYHOOD & YOUTH OF NAPOLEON, 1769-1793.

Some Chapters on the early life of Bonaparte.

BY OSCAR BROWNING, M.A. With numerous Illustrations, Portraits etc.

Crown 8vo. 5_s._ net.

_Daily News._—"Mr. Browning has with patience, labour, careful study,
and excellent taste given us a very valuable work, which will add
materially to the literature on this most fascinating of human
personalities.

THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF NAPOLEON.

By JOSEPH TURQUAN. Translated from the French by JAMES L. MAY. With 32
Full-page Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches). 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

THE DUKE OF REICHSTADT (NAPOLEON II.)

By EDWARD DE WERTHEIMER. Translated from the German. With numerous
Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches.) 21_s._ net. (Second Edition.)

_Times._—"A most careful and interesting work which presents the first
complete and authoritative account of this unfortunate Prince."

_Westminster Gazette._—"This book, admirably produced, reinforced by
many additional portraits, is a solid contribution to history and a
monument of patient, well-applied research."

NAPOLEON'S CONQUEST OF PRUSSIA, 1806.

By F. LORAINE PETRE. With an Introduction by FIELD-MARSHAL EARL ROBERTS,
V.C., K.G., etc. With Maps, Battle Plans, Portraits, and 16 Full-page
Illustrations. Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches). 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

_Scotsman._—"Neither too concise, nor too diffuse, the book is eminently
readable. It is the best work in English on a somewhat circumscribed
subject."

_Outlook._—"Mr. Petre has visited the battlefields and read everything,
and his monograph is a model of what military history, handled with
enthusiasm and literary ability, can be."

NAPOLEON'S CAMPAIGN IN POLAND, 1806-1807.

A Military History of Napoleon's First War with Russia, verified from
unpublished official documents.

By F. LORAIN PETRE. With 16 Full-page Illustrations, Maps, and Plans.
New Edition.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches). 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

_Army and Navy Chronicle._—"We welcome a second edition of this valuable
work.... Mr. Loraine Petre is an authority on the wars of the great
Napoleon, and has brought the greatest care and energy into his studies
of the subject."

NAPOLEON AND THE ARCHDUKE CHARLES.

A History of the Franco-Austrian Campaign in the Valley of the Danube in
1809.

By F. LORAINE PETRE. With 8 Illustrations and 6 sheets of Maps and
Plans.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches). 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

RALPH HEATHCOTE. Letters of a Diplomatist

During the Time of Napoleon, Giving an Account of the Dispute between
the Emperor and the Elector of Hesse.

By COUNTESS GUNTHER GRÖBEN. With Numerous Illustrations.

Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 inches). 12_s._ 6_d._ net.

MEMOIRS OF THE COUNT DE CARTRIE.

A record of the extraordinary events in the life of a French Royalist
during the war in La Vendée, and of his flight to Southampton, where he
followed the humble occupation of gardener.

With an introduction by FRÉDÉRIC MASSON, Appendices and Notes by PIERRE
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                           Transcriber's Note

The original spelling and punctuation have been retained. Except where
noted.

Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.

Italicized words and phrases in the text version are presented by
surrounding the text with underscores.

The caret character (^) has been used to indicate a superscript letter.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of Don John of Austria, by Luis Coloma

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