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 homo 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 homo missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes?" and in his natural voice, firm, strong, and decided, he repeated, for the third time, "Fuit homo 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 brotherD. 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 homo 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, andwould 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, andthat 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 legatea latereto 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 veryara, 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 wordscor 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 himasHighness, 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 andgentlemen 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 differentlines, 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 thefascesof 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, thatthe Very Illustrious Lord Cardinal Alexandrino, nephew of the very holy Father and Lord Pius V, came to these kingdoms of Spain as Legatea latereof 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, hisaunt, 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 pictureshe 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 livethough 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."
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. Johndeclared. 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 wasalways 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, twoD. Juanillosor 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, calledla 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 usualcustom, 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, withmore 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'snaval 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 hadbeen 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 deedsmade 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 ofputting 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.