Read Ebook: Isabel of Castile and the making of the Spanish nation 1451-1504 by Plunket Ierne L Ierne Lifford

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 978 lines and 102705 words, and 20 pages

Agriculture, industry, and commerce thus became stamped, unfortunately for Spain, with the taint of subjection. Not that the Castilian took no share as the years passed in the economic life of his country; for the legislation of the fifteenth century shows the middle and lower classes busily engaged in occupations such as cattle-breeding, sheep-farming, and mining; and, more especially in the south, of fruit-growing, and the production of silk, wine, and oil. The basis of a progressive national life was there; but perpetual war against the Moors and internal discord, combined with racial prejudice against the industrious alien, gave to the profession of arms a wholly disproportionate value.

"Ce sont de veritables petits ?tats," says Mari?jol, speaking of the Castilian municipalities in mediaeval days; but the description that implies peculiar powers shadows forth also peculiar difficulties. The city that would keep its independence would have to struggle continually against the encroachments both of the Crown and of neighbouring territorial lords. It must for this purpose maintain its own militia, and, most arduous of all, watch carefully lest it should fall into subjection to its very defenders. Not a few of the municipal councils came in time to be dominated by a class of "knights," or nobles of secondary rank, whose quarrels and feuds endangered industry and filled the streets with bloodshed.

The principal civic official was the "regidor"; but the Crown had by the early fifteenth century succeeded in introducing in many cases a representative, the "corregidor," whose business it was to look after royal interests. His presence was naturally resented by the more influential citizens and, where he dealt corruptly with the people, disliked by all; but an honest corregidor, who was unconnected with local families and therefore without interest in the local feuds, and who had no axe of his own to grind, was a Godsent help to the poorer classes.

The "Procuradores," or representatives, were in theory free to act at their own discretion; but in practice they went tied by the instructions of their fellow-citizens. Nor had they much scope for independence in the Cortes itself; for though they might and did air their grievances and press for reform, redress rested with the Crown and did not precede but follow the assent to taxation. All legislative power was in fact invested in the King; who might reject, amend, or accept suggestions as he thought fit.

That the towns missed the future significance of this change is hardly surprising. The civil wars that devastated Castile had taught the people that their most dangerous enemies were not their kings but the turbulent aristocracy; and they often looked to the former as allies against a common foe. In the same way the more patriotic of the nobles and ecclesiastics saw in the building up of the royal power the only hope of carrying the crusade against the Moors to a successful conclusion, or of establishing peace at home. At this critical moment in the history of Castile, national progress depended on royal dominance; and it was Queen Isabel who by establishing the one made possible the other.

"I the King ... make known to you that by the grace of Our Lord, this Thursday just past the Queen Do?a Isabel, my dear and well-beloved wife, was delivered of a daughter; the which I tell you that you may give thanks to God."

Feeble and vain, Henry, Prince of Asturias, had been from boyhood the puppet of his father's rebellious nobles, led by their flattery into attacking the royal authority that it would be one day his duty to maintain.

"In him," says the chronicler Pulgar, "desire had the mastery over reason"; and, when he ascended the throne, it was with a character and constitution that self-indulgence had utterly undermined. One virtue he possessed, strangely out of keeping with his age, a compassion arising from dislike of bloodshed; but, since he failed to draw any distinction between justice and indiscriminate mercy, this attribute rather endangered than distinguished his rule. A corresponding indifference, also, to his property, and a reluctance to punish those who tampered with it, might have a ring of magnificence, but it could hardly inspire awe of the King's law.

While, at his ease, he wove chimerical schemes of a crusade for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, and extended a liberal patronage to Renaissance poets and philosophers; his wife, Queen Maria, remained as regent at home, and strove to keep peace with Castile and temper the ambitions of her brothers-in-law. This was a well-nigh impossible task, for John the eldest and most turbulent, in default of any legitimate descendants of Alfonso, was heir to the Aragonese throne. A judicious marriage with Blanche, the heiress of a small state of Navarre, had made him virtual master of that kingdom, when on her father's death in 1425 they assumed the joint sovereignty.

Fiction has never devised a more painful domestic tragedy than resulted from this match. Of the three children of Blanche and John of Navarre, the death of two was to be laid at their father's door, the third to earn the unenviable reputation of connivance in a sister's murder. The Queen, with some premonition of the future, strove feebly on her death-bed to guard against it, and in her will, that left her son Charles of Viana as the rightful ruler of Navarre, she begged him not to claim the title of King in his father's lifetime. To this the Prince agreed, but the attempt at compromise was to prove ineffectual.

In 1447, King John married again, a woman of very different temperament to his former wife. This lady, Joanna Enriquez, daughter of the Admiral of Castile, was as unscrupulous and greedy of power as her husband, and from the first adopted the r?le of "cruel stepmother." The birth of her son, Ferdinand, in March, 1452, set fire to the slumbering jealousy she had conceived for Charles of Viana, and henceforth she devoted her talents and energy to removing him from her path.

It is the penalty of public characters that their private life is not only exposed to the limelight, but its disagreements involve the interference of many who are not directly concerned. The hatred of Queen Joanna for her stepson not only convulsed Navarre and Aragon but dragged Castile also into the scandal.

In 1440, in a brief moment of reconciliation with Castile, he married his eldest daughter Blanche to Henry, then Prince of Asturias, and was thus provided with a plausible excuse for henceforth thwarting his cousin in his son-in-law's interests. From no other point of view could the alliance be called a success. Henry proved as faithless a husband as he was disloyal a son; and, after thirteen years of fruitless union, the marriage was annulled on the grounds of impotence.

The Marquis of Villena was deaf to the voice of patriotism or personal loyalty to his master, but he was more than ordinarily acute, where his own prosperity was concerned. He had garnered successfully the confiscated property, but "he lived" we are told "always with the fear of losing it, as those live who possess what does not belong to them."

"He knew," says the chronicler, "how to conceal all other vices save his greed: that he could neither conceal nor moderate."

Unfortunately, real feelings, if they had ever been in tune, ceased to correspond with these outward rejoicings. Henry soon tired of his bride, probably because he was legally bound to her, and bestowed his attentions instead on a Portuguese lady of her retinue, Do?a Guiomar. The latter increased the Queen's mortification by her insolent behaviour; and, after a stormy scene, in which royal dignity was thrown to the winds and slaps and blows were administered, Henry removed his mistress to a country-house. The Court, watching to see which way the wind would blow, divided into factions according to its decision; the Marquis of Villena supporting the Queen, the Archbishop of Seville the cause of Do?a Guiomar.

Matters became even more serious when scandal, always busy with the King's name, began to attack the honour of his bride. Queen Joanna, who according to Zurita had objected to the match from the first, was incapable of the gentle resignation of her predecessor, Blanche of Navarre. As extravagant and devoted to pleasure as her husband, she had no intention of playing the r?le of deserted wife.

"She was a woman to whom love speeches were pleasant ... delighting more in the beauty of her face than in the glory of her reputation." Such was the court chronicler's summary of her character; nor did public opinion remain vague in its accusations.

Amongst the principal Castilian nobles was a certain Beltran de La Cueva, who by his handsome looks and adroit manners had gained for himself the King's confidence and the lucrative office of "Mayordomo," or Lord High Steward.

On one occasion the King and Queen had been entertaining the ambassadors of the Duke of Brittany at their country-house at Pardo. Returning to Madrid after three days' hunting, they found on nearing the city that Beltran de La Cueva, gorgeously arrayed, was waiting lance in hand to challenge all who came by that road. This was a form of entertainment highly popular with the chivalry of the time; and the tiers of scaffolding erected for spectators were soon crowded.

Every knight, as he rode up, was summoned to tilt six rounds with the Mayordomo or to leave his left glove in token of his cowardice. If he succeeded in shivering three lances, he might go to a wooden archway, resplendent with letters of gold, and from there take the initial of the lady of his choice. This famous "Passage of Arms" lasted from morning till sunset; and thus to the satisfaction of the Court did Beltran de La Cueva maintain the cause of an unknown beauty, to whom rumour gave no less a name than that of royalty itself.

If the King had his suspicions, they did not hinder his pleasure in the spectacle; and he proceeded to celebrate the event by establishing a monastery on the site, to be called "San Jeronimo del Paso," or "Saint Jerome of the Passage of Arms." Such an origin for a religious foundation was to say the least of it bizarre; yet it compares favourably with Henry's cynical appointment of a discarded mistress as abbess of a convent in Toledo, on the excuse that the said convent was in need of reform.

According to one of the royal chaplains Henry treated his half-brother and sister "with much love and honour and no less the Queen their mother." This account, however, conflicts with Pulgar's description of Isabel as "brought up in great necessity." It is more than probable that the fortunes of the family at Ar?valo varied with the policy or whim of the Marquis of Villena; and thus, in her most impressionable years, the little Princess learned her first lessons in the hard school of experience. Such a theory would explain the extraordinary discretion and foresight she displayed at an age when most girls are still dreaming of unrealities. If the contrast is not wholly to her advantage, and precocity is seldom charming, we must remember that only sheltered fruit can keep its bloom. What Isabel lost of childish softness, she gained in self-reliance and a shrewd estimate of the difference between true and false.

Amid all the turns of Fortune's wheel that were to bring in search of Isabel's hand now one suitor, now another, this first alliance alone was to reach consummation; yet few, versed in the changing politics of the day, could have believed it likely. The kings had sworn eternal friendship; but in little more than twelve months an event happened that made of their treaties and complimentary letters a heap of waste paper.

This Admiral, Don Fadrique Enriquez, was himself a descendant of the royal House of Trastamara; and his haughty and choleric nature found the dreary level of loyalty little to its taste. His sense of importance, vastly increased by his daughter's brilliant marriage, revelled in plots of all sorts; and soon conspiracy was afoot, and he and the majority of Castilian nobles were secretly leagued with John of Aragon against their own sovereign. Even the Marquis of Villena consented to flirt with their proposals, in the hope of reaping some benefit; while his uncle, the Archbishop of Toledo, and his brother, Don Pedro Giron, Master of Calatrava, were amongst the leading members of the league.

Looking about him for an ally, Henry's glance lit naturally on Charles of Viana, whose disputes with his father had reached a stage beyond the chance of any peaceful settlement. Navarre, always a prey to factions as irreconcilable as Montagues and Capulets, had broken into civil war on the advent of Queen Joanna as regent; the powerful family of the Agramonts welcoming her eagerly; while the Beaumonts, their rivals, out of favour at Court and wild with jealousy, called hourly upon Charles to avenge their wrongs and his own. His mother's will, leaving Navarre to her husband during his lifetime, had, they declared, been made null and void by the King's subsequent remarriage. Not only was it the duty of a son to resist such unlawful tyranny, but it was folly to refuse with imprisonment or a poison cup lurking in the background.

The latter argument was convincing; but never was rebellion undertaken with a heavier heart. The Prince of Viana was a student and philosopher who, like the Clerk of Oxenford, would have preferred a shelf of Aristotle's books at his bed's head to the richest robes, or fiddle, or psaltery. The quiet of a monastery library, with its smell of dust and parchment, thrilled him more than any trumpet-call; and he would gladly have exchanged his birthright for the monk's garb of peace. Fortune willed otherwise, laying on his shoulders in pitiless mockery the burden of the man of action; and the result was the defeat that is the usual reward of half-heartedness.

His uncle's Court at Naples proved a temporary asylum for him in his subsequent enforced exile; and also the island of Sicily, where he soon won the affection of the people, and lived in happiness, till Alfonso's death awoke him rudely from his day-dreams. He was overwhelmed by fear for his own future; though, had he been a different man, he might have wrested away the sceptre of Sicily. In Aragon itself public opinion had been growing steadily in his favour, and not only in Navarre were there murmurs at his absence, but up and down the streets of Barcelona, where the new King was far from popular, and his haughty Castilian wife an object of dislike.

As a result of these negotiations, a marriage was arranged between Charles and the Infanta Isabel. That the suggested bride was only ten and the bridegroom nearing forty was a discrepancy not even considered; and the messengers, who went to Ar?valo to report on the appearance of the Princess, returned to her suitor, as the chroniclers expressed it, "very well content." Far different were the feelings of the King of Aragon, when he learned of the intended match from his father-in-law, the Admiral of Castile. Isabel had been destined for his favourite son, and, in spite of the conspiracy to which he had lent his aid, this alliance still held outwardly good. It did not need the jealous insinuations of his wife to inflame afresh his hatred of his first-born; and the Prince of Viana soon found himself in prison, accused of no less a crime than plotting against his father's life.

It was a bitter moment for King John. Realizing his critical position, he agreed to his son's release; and Charles of Viana passed in triumph to Barcelona. For once, almost without his intervention, Fortune had smiled on him; but it proved only a gleam before the final storm. Three months after he had been publicly proclaimed as his father's heir, the news of his sudden illness and death fell on his supporters with paralysing swiftness.

Nothing, on the other hand, could have been more opportune for King John and his Queen; and their joy can be gauged by the haste with which they at once proclaimed the ten-year-old Ferdinand heir to the throne, demanding from the national Cortes of the three kingdoms the oath they had so long denied his elder brother. Yet Queen Joanna's maternal ambitions were not to be satisfied by this easy assumption of victory. Charles of Viana dead was to prove an even more potent foe than Charles of Viana living.

Gentle and unassuming, yet with a melancholy dignity that accorded well with his misfortunes, he had been accepted as a national hero by the impulsive Catalans; and after death they translated the rather negative qualities of his life into the attributes of a saint. Only the halo of martyrdom was required to fire the general sympathy into religious fervour; and this rumour supplied when it maintained that his tragic end had been due to no ordinary fever, but to poison administered by his stepmother's orders.

The supposition was not improbable; and the inhabitants of Barcelona did not trouble to verify the very scanty evidence for the actual fact. They preferred to rest their accusations on the tales of those who had seen the Prince's unhappy spirit, like Hamlet's father, walking abroad at midnight demanding revenge. Soon his tomb became a shrine for pilgrims, and there the last touch of sanctity was added. He who in life had suffered acutely from ill-health became in death a worker of miracles, a healer whom no absence of papal sanction could rob of popular canonization.

This foreign assistance had contributed not a little to the bitterness of the Catalans, for the French King had secretly encouraged their turbulence and disaffection, promising them his support.

With Charles of Viana the male line of Evreux had come to an end, and the claims on Navarre had passed to his sister Blanche. On Blanche's death, and Louis in his schemes leapt to the possibility of such a fortunate accident, the next heir would be Eleanor, her younger sister, wife of a French Count, Gaston de Foix. It would be well for France to establish a royal family of her own nationality on the throne of Navarre. It would be even better for that family to be closely connected with the House of Valois; and, calculating on the possibilities, Louis gave his sister Madeleine in marriage to the young Gaston de Foix, Eleanor's son and the heir to her ambitions.

It only remained to turn the possible into the certain: to make sure that Blanche's claims should not prejudice those of her younger sister. At this stage in his plans Louis found ready assistance in the King of Aragon, who included in his hatred of Charles of Viana a still more unnatural dislike of his gentle elder daughter, whose only sins were that she had loved her brother in his misfortunes and proved too good a wife for Henry of Castile.

Thus the tragedy was planned. Blanche must become a nun or pass into the care of her brother-in-law in some mountain fortress of Navarre. Then the alternative was whittled away. Nunneries and vows were not so safe as prison walls and that final silence, whose only pleading is at God's judgment-bar. Eleanor, fierce and vindictive as her father, was determined there should be no loophole of escape, no half-measures by which she might miss her coveted inheritance.

In March, 1462, Queen Joanna gave birth to a daughter in the palace at Madrid. The King had at last an heir. Great were the festivities and rejoicings at Court, many the bull-fights and jousts in honour of the occasion. Below all the sparkle of congratulation and rejoicing, however, ran an undercurrent of sneering incredulity. It was nearly seven years since the Queen came a bride to Cordova, and for thirteen before that had Henry been married to the virtuous Blanche of Navarre, yet neither by wife nor mistress had he been known to have child.

"Enrique El Impotente," his people had nicknamed him, and now, recalling the levity of the Queen's life and her avowed leaning towards the hero of the famous "Passage of Arms," they dubbed the little Princess in mockery "Joanna La Beltraneja."

Was the King blind? or why was the handsome Beltran de La Cueva created at this moment, almost it seemed in celebration of the occasion, Count of Ledesma, and received into the innermost royal councils? There were those who did not hesitate to affirm that Henry was indifferent to his own honour, so long as his anxiety for an heir was satisfied.

Whatever the doubts and misgivings as to her parentage, there was no lack of outward ceremony at the Infanta's baptism, in the royal chapel eight days after her birth. The Primate himself, the Archbishop of Toledo, performed the rites, and Isabel, who with her brother Alfonso, had been lately brought up to court, was one of the godmothers, the other, the Marquesa de Villena, wife of the favourite. Two months later, a Cortes, composed of prelates, nobles, and representatives of the Third Estate, assembled at Madrid, and, in response to the King's command, took an oath to the Infanta Joanna as heir to the throne; Isabel and her brother being the first to kneel and kiss the baby's hand.

The Christmas of 1462 found Henry and his Queen at Almazon; and thither came messengers from Barcelona with their tale of rebellion and the fixed resolution they had made never to submit to King John's yoke. Instead the citizens offered their allegiance to Castile, imploring help and support in the struggle before them.

Henry had been unmoved by Blanche's appeal, for he knew the difficulties of an invasion of Navarre, but the present project flattered his vanity. He would merely dispatch a few troops to Barcelona, as few as he could under the circumstances, and the Catalans in return would gain him, at best an important harbour on the Mediterranean, at worst would act as a thorn in the side of his ambitious neighbour. He graciously consented therefore to send 2500 horse, under the leadership of one of the Beaumonts, as earnest of his good intentions; but almost before this force had reached Barcelona, those intentions had already changed, and he had agreed to the mediation of the King of France in the disputes between him and the King of Aragon.

After a preliminary conference at Bayonne, it was arranged that the Kings of Castile and France should meet for a final discussion of the proposed terms of peace on the banks of the Bidassoa, the boundary between their two territories. It is a scene that Philip de Commines' pen has made for ever memorable; for though he himself was not present he drew his vivid account from distinguished eye-witnesses on both sides. Through his medium and that of the Spanish chroniclers we can see the showy luxury of the Castilian Court, the splendour of the Moorish guards by whom Henry was surrounded, the favourite Beltran de La Cueva in his boat, with its sail of cloth-of-gold dipping before the wind, his very boots as he stepped on shore glittering with precious stones. Such was the model to whom Castilian chivalry looked, the man, who with the Archbishop of Toledo and the Marquis of Villena dictated to their master his every word.

"The convention broke up and they parted," says Commines, "but with such scorn and contempt on both sides, that the two kings never loved one another heartily afterwards."

The result of the interview, May, 1463, was soon published. In return for King John's future friendship, and in compensation for her expenses as an ally of Charles of Viana, a few years before, Castile found herself the richer for the town of Estella in Navarre, a gain so small that it was widely believed the Archbishop of Toledo and his fellow-politicians had allowed themselves to be bribed.

If the Castilians were bitter at this decision, still more so were the Catalans, deserted by their ally and offered nothing save the unpalatable advice that they should return to King John's allegiance. The messengers from Barcelona quitted Fuenterrabia as soon as they heard, openly uttering their contempt for Castile's treachery.

"It is the hour," they exclaimed, "of her shame and of her King's dishonour!"

They could not realize to the full the truth of their words, nor to what depths Henry was shortly to fall and drag the fortunes of his country with him.

He could not make up his mind to break openly with the Marquis and his uncle, the Archbishop of Toledo; but a perceptible coldness appeared in his manner where they were concerned, in contrast to the ever-increasing favour that he now bestowed on Beltran de La Cueva, Count of Ledesma. The latter's share in the conferences had been mainly ornamental. Indeed his talents had lain hitherto rather in the ballroom or the lists than in the world of practical politics; but success had stirred his ambitions, and especially his marriage with the daughter of the Marquis de Santillana, head of the powerful family of Mendoza. With this connection at his back he might hope to drive Villena and his relations from Court, and with the Queen's aid control the destinies of Castile.

In the struggle between the rival favourites, the Princess Isabel was regarded as a useful pawn on their chess-board. She and her brother had been summoned to Court at Villena's suggestion that "they would be better brought up and learn more virtuous customs than away from his Majesty's presence." Whether irony were intended or no, Henry had accepted the statement seriously; and while Alfonso was handed over to a tutor, his sister joined the Queen's household.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet