"Leave to the nightingale her shady wood:
A privacy of glorious light is thine;
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with rapture more divine;
Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam;
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home."
Wordsworth.
While John of Aragon had recourse to such means to enable his son to
escape the vigilant and vindictive emissaries of the King of Castile,
there were anxious hearts in Valladolid, awaiting the result with the
impatience and doubt that ever attend the execution of hazardous
enterprises. Among others who felt this deep interest in the movements
of Ferdinand of Aragon and his companions, were a few whom it has now
become necessary to introduce to the reader.
Although Valladolid had not then reached the magnificence it
subsequently acquired as the capital of Charles V., it was an ancient,
and, for the age, a magnificent and luxurious town, possessing its
palaces, as well as its more inferior abodes. To the principal of the
former, the residence of John de Vivero--a distinguished noble of the
kingdom--we must repair in imagination; where companions more agreeable
than those we have just quitted, await us, and who were then themselves
awaiting, with deep anxiety, the arrival of a messenger with tidings
from Duenas. The particular apartment that it will be necessary to
imagine, had much of the rude splendor of the period, united to that air
of comfort and fitness that woman seldom fails to impart to the portion
of any edifice that comes directly under her control. In the year 1469,
Spain was fast approaching the termination of that great struggle which
had already endured seven centuries, and in which the Christian and the
Mussulman contended for the mastery of the peninsula. The latter had
long held sway in the southern parts of Leon, and had left behind him,
in the palaces of this town, some of the traces of his barbaric
magnificence. The lofty and fretted ceilings were not as glorious as
those to be found further south, it is true; still, the Moor had been
here, and the name of Veled Vlid--since changed to Valladolid--denotes
its Arabic connection. In the room just mentioned, and in the principal
palace of this ancient town--that of John de Vivero--were two females,
in earnest and engrossing discourse. Both were young, and, though in
very different styles, both would have been deemed beautiful in any age
or region of the earth. One, indeed, was surpassingly lovely. She had
just reached her nineteenth year--an age when the female form has
received its full development in that generous climate; and the most
imaginative poet of Spain--a country so renowned for beauty of form in
the sex--could not have conceived of a person more symmetrical. The
hands, feet, bust, and all the outlines, were those of feminine
loveliness; while the stature, without rising to a height to suggest the
idea of any thing masculine, was sufficient to ennoble an air of quiet
dignity. The beholder, at first, was a little at a loss to know whether
the influence to which he submitted, proceeded most from the perfection
of the body itself, or from the expression that the soul within imparted
to the almost faultless exterior. The face was, in all respects, worthy
of the form. Although born beneath the sun of Spain, her lineage carried
her back, through a long line of kings, to the Gothic sovereigns; and
its frequent intermarriages with foreign princesses, had produced in her
countenance that intermixture of the brilliancy of the north with the
witchery of the south, that probably is nearest to the perfection of
feminine loveliness.
Her complexion was fair, and her rich locks had that tint of the auburn
which approaches as near as possible to the more marked color that gives
it warmth, without attaining any of the latter's distinctive hue. "Her
mild blue eyes," says an eminent historian, "beamed with intelligence
and sensibility." In these indexes to the soul, indeed, were to be found
her highest claims to loveliness, for they bespoke no less the beauty
within, than the beauty without; imparting to features of exquisite
delicacy and symmetry, a serene expression of dignity and moral
excellence, that was remarkably softened by a modesty that seemed as
much allied to the sensibilities of a woman, as to the purity of an
angel. To add to all these charms, though of royal blood, and educated
in a court, an earnest, but meek sincerity presided over every look and
thought--as thought was betrayed in the countenance--adding the
illumination of truth to the lustre of youth and beauty.
The attire of this princess was simple, for, happily, the taste of the
age enabled those who worked for the toilet to consult the proportions
of nature; though the materials were rich, and such as became her high
rank. A single cross of diamonds sparkled on a neck of snow, to which it
was attached by a short string of pearls; and a few rings, decked with
stones of price, rather cumbered than adorned hands that needed no
ornaments to rivet the gaze. Such was Isabella of Castile, in her days
of maiden retirement and maiden pride--while waiting the issues of those
changes that were about to put their seal on her own future fortunes, as
well as on those of posterity even to our own times.
Her companion was Beatriz de Bobadilla, the friend of her childhood and
infancy, and who continued, to the last, the friend of her prime, and of
her death-bed. This lady, a little older than the princess, was of more
decided Spanish mien, for, though of an ancient and illustrious house,
policy and necessity had not caused so many foreign intermarriages in
her race, as had been required in that of her royal mistress. Her eyes
were black and sparkling, bespeaking a generous soul, and a resolution
so high that some commentators have termed it valor; while her hair was
dark as the raven's wing. Like that of her royal mistress, her form
exhibited the grace and loveliness of young womanhood, developed by the
generous warmth of Spain; though her stature was, in a slight degree,
less noble, and the outlines of her figure, in about an equal
proportion, less perfect. In short, nature had drawn some such
distinction between the exceeding grace and high moral charms that
encircled the beauty of the princess, and those which belonged to her
noble friend, as the notions of men had established between their
respective conditions; though, considered singly, as women, either would
have been deemed pre-eminently winning and attractive.
At the moment we have selected for the opening of the scene that is to
follow, Isabella, fresh from the morning toilet, was seated in a chair,
leaning lightly on one of its arms, in an attitude that interest in the
subject she was discussing, and confidence in her companion, had
naturally produced; while Beatriz de Bobadilla occupied a low stool at
her feet, bending her body in respectful affection so far forward, as to
allow the fairer hair of the princess to mingle with her own dark curls,
while the face of the latter appeared to repose on the head of her
friend. As no one else was present, the reader will at once infer, from
the entire absence of Castilian etiquette and Spanish reserve, that the
dialogue they held was strictly confidential, and that it was governed
more by the feelings of nature, than by the artificial rules that
usually regulate the intercourse of courts.
"I have prayed, Beatriz, that God would direct my judgment in this
weighty concern," said the princess, in continuation of some previous
observation; "and I hope I have as much kept in view the happiness of my
future subjects, in the choice I have made, as my own."
"None shall presume to question it," said Beatriz de Bobadilla; "for had
it pleased you to wed the Grand Turk, the Castilians would not gainsay
your wish, such is their love!"
"Say, rather, such is thy love for me, my good Beatriz, that thou
fanciest this," returned Isabella, smiling, and raising her face from
the other's head. "Our Castilians might overlook such a sin, but I could
not pardon myself for forgetting that I am a Christian. Beatriz, I have
been sorely tried, in this matter!"
"But the hour of trial is nearly passed. Holy Maria! what lightness of
reflection, and vanity, and misjudging of self, must exist in man, to
embolden some who have dared to aspire to become your husband! You were
yet a child when they betrothed you to Don Carlos, a prince old enough
to be your father; and then, as if that were not sufficient to warm
Castilian blood, they chose the King of Portugal for you, and he might
well have passed for a generation still more remote! Much as I love you,
Dona Isabella, and my own soul is scarce dearer to me than your person
and mind, for nought do I respect you more, than for the noble and
princely resolution, child as you then were, with which you denied the
king, in his wicked wish to make you Queen of Portugal."
"Don Enriquez is my brother, Beatriz; and thine and my royal master."
"Ah! bravely did you tell them all," continued Beatriz de Bobadilla,
with sparkling eyes, and a feeling of exultation that caused her to
overlook the quiet rebuke of her mistress; "and worthy was it of a
princess of the royal house of Castile! 'The Infantas of Castile,' you
said, 'could not be disposed of, in marriage, without the consent of the
nobles of the realm;' and with that fit reply they were glad to be
content."
"And yet, Beatriz, am I about to dispose of an Infanta of Castile,
without even consulting its nobles."
"Say not that, my excellent mistress. There is not a loyal and gallant
cavalier between the Pyrenees and the sea, who will not, in his heart,
approve of your choice. The character, and age, and other qualities of
the suitor, make a sensible difference in these concerns. But unfit as
Don Alfonso of Portugal was, and is, to be the wedded husband of Dona
Isabella of Castile, what shall we say to the next suitor who appeared
as a pretender to your royal hand--Don Pedro Giron, the Master of
Calatrava! truly a most worthy lord for a maiden of the royal house! Out
upon him! A Pachecho might think himself full honorably mated, could he
have found a damsel of Bobadilla to elevate his race!"
"That ill-assorted union was imposed upon my brother by unworthy
favorites; and God, in his holy providence, saw fit to defeat their
wishes, by hurrying their intended bridegroom to an unexpected grave!"
"Ay! had it not pleased his blessed will so to dispose of Don Pedro,
other means would not have been wanting!"
"This little hand of thine, Beatriz," returned the princess, gravely,
though she smiled affectionately on her friend as she took the hand in
question, "was not made for the deed its owner menaced."
"That which its owner menaced," replied Beatriz, with eyes flashing
fire, "this hand would have executed, before Isabella of Castile should
be the doomed bride of the Grand Master of Calatrava. What! was the
purest, loveliest virgin of Castile, and she of royal birth--nay, the
rightful heiress of the crown--to be sacrificed to a lawless libertine,
because it had pleased Don Henry to forget his station and duties, and
make a favorite of a craven miscreant!"
"Thou always forgettest, Beatriz, that Don Enriquez is our lord the
king, and my royal brother."
"I do not forget, Senora, that you are the royal sister of our lord the
king, and that Pedro de Giron, or Pachecho, whichever it might suit the
ancient Portuguese page to style him, was altogether unworthy to sit in
your presence, much less to become your wedded husband. Oh! what days of
anguish were those, my gracious lady, when your knees ached with bending
in prayer, that this might not be! But God would not permit it--neither
would I! That dagger should have pierced his heart, before ear of his
should have heard the vows of Isabella of Castile!"
"Speak no more of this, good Beatriz, I pray thee," said the princess,
shuddering, and crossing herself; "they were, in sooth, days of anguish;
but what were they in comparison with the passion of the Son of God, who
gave himself a sacrifice for our sins! Name it not, then; it was good
for my soul to be thus tried; and thou knowest that the evil was turned
from me--more, I doubt not, by the efficacy of our prayers, than by that
of thy dagger. If thou wilt speak of my suitors, surely there are others
better worthy of the trouble."
A light gleamed about the dark eye of Beatriz, and a smile struggled
toward her pretty mouth; for well did she understand that the royal, but
bashful maiden, would gladly hear something of him on whom her choice
had finally fallen. Although ever disposed to do that which was grateful
to her mistress, with a woman's coquetry, Beatriz determined to approach
the more pleasing part of the subject coyly, and by a regular gradation
of events, in the order in which they had actually occurred.
"Then, there was Monsieur de Guienne, the brother of King Louis of
France," she resumed, affecting contempt in her manner; "_he_ would fain
become the husband of the future Queen of Castile! But even our most
unworthy Castilians soon saw the unfitness of that union. Their pride
was unwilling to run the chance of becoming a fief of France."
"That misfortune could never have befallen our beloved Castile,"
interrupted Isabella with dignity; "had I espoused the King of France
himself, he would have learned to respect me as the Queen Proprietor of
this ancient realm, and not have looked upon me as a subject."
"Then, Senora," continued Beatriz, looking up into Isabella's face, and
laughing--"was your own royal kinsman, Don Ricardo of Gloucester; he
that they say was born with teeth, and who carries already a burthen so
heavy on his back, that he may well thank his patron saint that he is
not also to be loaded with the affairs of Castile."[1]
[Footnote 1: NOTE--The authorities differ as to which of the English
princes was the suitor of Isabella; Edward IV. himself, Clarence, or
Richard. Isabella was the grand-daughter of Catherine of Lancaster, who
was a daughter of John of Gaunt.]
"Thy tongue runneth riot, Beatriz. They tell me that Don Ricardo is a
noble and aspiring prince; that he is, one day, likely to wed some
princess, whose merit may well console him for his failure in Castile.
But what more hast thou to offer concerning my suitors?"
"Nay, what more can I say, my beloved mistress? We have now reached Don
Fernando, literally the first, as he proveth to be the last, and as we
know him to be, the best of them all."
"I think I have been guided by the motives that become my birth and
future hopes, in choosing Don Ferdinand," said Isabella, meekly, though
she was uneasy in spite of her royal views of matrimony; "since nothing
can so much tend to the peace of our dear kingdom, and to the success of
the great cause of Christianity, as to unite Castile and Aragon under
one crown."
"By uniting their sovereigns in holy wedlock," returned Beatriz, with
respectful gravity, though a smile again struggled around her pouting
lips. "What if Don Fernando is the most youthful, the handsomest, the
most valiant, and the most agreeable prince in Christendom, it is no
fault of yours, since you did not make him, but have only accepted him
for a husband!"
"Nay, this exceedeth discretion and respect, my good Beatriz," returned
Isabella, affecting to frown, even while she blushed deeply at her own
emotions, and looked gratified at the praises of her betrothed. "Thou
knowest that I have never beheld my cousin, the King of Sicily."
"Very true, Senora; but Father Alonso de Coca hath--and a surer eye, or
truer tongue than his, do not exist in Castile."
"Beatriz, I pardon thy license, however unjust and unseemly, because I
know thou lovest me, and lookest rather at mine own happiness, than at
that of my people," said the princess, the effect of whose gravity now
was not diminished by any betrayal of natural feminine weakness--for she
felt slightly offended. "Thou knowest, or ought'st to know, that a
maiden of royal birth is bound principally to consult the interests of
the state, in bestowing her hand, and that the idle fancies of village
girls have little in common with her duties. Nay, what virgin of noble
extraction, like thyself, even, would dream of aught else than of
submitting to the counsel of her family, in taking a husband? If I have
selected Don Fernando of Aragon, from among many princes, it is,
doubtless, because the alliance is more suited to the interests of
Castile, than any other that hath offered. Thou seest, Beatriz, that the
Castilians and the Aragonese spring from the same source, and have the
same habits and prejudices. They speak the same language"--
"Nay, dearest lady, do not confound the pure Castilian with the dialect
of the mountains!"
"Well, have thy fling, wayward one, if thou wilt; but we can easier
teach the nobles of Aragon our purer Spanish, than we can teach it to
the Gaul. Then, Don Fernando is of my own race; the House of Trastamara
cometh of Castile and her monarchs, and we may at least hope that the
King of Sicily will be able to make himself understood."
"If he could not, he were no true knight! The man whose tongue should
fail him, when the stake was a royal maiden of a beauty surpassing that
of the dawn--of an excellence that already touches on heaven--of a
crown"--
"Girl, girl, thy tongue is getting the mastery of thee--such discourse
ill befitteth thee and me."
"And yet, Dona Ysabel, my tongue is close bound to my heart."
"I do believe thee, my good Beatriz; but we should bethink us both of
our last shrivings, and of the ghostly counsel that we then received.
Such nattering discourse seemeth light, when we remember our manifold
transgressions, and our many occasions for forgiveness. As for this
marriage, I would have thee think that it has been contracted on my
part, with the considerations and motives of a princess, and not through
any light indulgence of my fancies. Thou knowest that I have never
beheld Don Fernando, and that he hath never even looked upon me."
"Assuredly, dearest lady and honored mistress, all this I know, and see,
and believe; and I also agree that it were unseemly and little befitting
her birth, for even a noble maiden to contract the all-important
obligations of marriage, with no better motive than the light impulses
of a country wench. Nothing is more just than that we are alike bound to
consult our own dignity, and the wishes of kinsmen and friends; and that
our duty, and the habits of piety and submission in which we have been
reared, are better pledges for our connubial affection than any caprices
of a girlish imagination. Still, my honored lady, it is most fortunate
that your high obligations point to one as youthful, brave, noble, and
chivalrous, as is the King of Sicily, as we well know, by Father
Alonso's representations, to be the fact; and that all my friends unite
in saying that Don Andres de Cabrera, madcap and silly as he is, will
make an exceedingly excellent husband for Beatriz de Bobadilla!"
Isabella, habitually dignified and reserved as she was, had her
confidants and her moments for unbending; and Beatriz was the principal
among the former, while the present instant was one of the latter. She
smiled, therefore, at this sally; and parting, with her own fair hand,
the dark locks on the brow of her friend, she regarded her much as the
mother regards her child, when sudden passages of tenderness come over
the heart.
"If madcap should wed madcap, _thy_ friends, at least, have judged
rightly," answered the princess. Then, pausing an instant, as if in deep
thought, she continued in a graver manner, though modesty shone in her
tell-tale complexion, and the sensibility that beamed in her eyes
betrayed that she now felt more as a woman than as a future queen bent
only on the happiness of her people: "As this interview draweth near, I
suffer an embarrassment I had not thought it easy to inflict on an
Infanta of Castile. To thee, my faithful Beatriz, I will acknowledge,
that were the King of Sicily as old as Don Alfonso of Portugal, or were
he as effeminate and unmanly as Monsieur of Guienne; were he, in sooth,
less engaging and young, I should feel less embarrassment in meeting
him, than I now experience."
"This is passing strange, Senora! Now, I will confess that I would not
willingly abate in Don Andres, one hour of his life, which has been
sufficiently long as it is; one grace of his person, if indeed the
honest cavalier hath any to boast of; or one single perfection of either
body or mind."
"Thy case is not mine, Beatriz. Thou knowest the Marquis of Moya; hast
listened to his discourse, and art accustomed to his praises and his
admiration."
"Holy St. Iago of Spain! Do not distrust any thing, Senora, on account
of unfamiliarity with such matters--for, of all learning, it is easiest
to learn to relish praise and admiration!"
"True, daughter"--(for so Isabella often termed her friend, though her
junior: in later life, and after the princess had become a queen, this,
indeed, was her usual term of endearment)--"true, daughter, when praise
and admiration are freely given and fairly merited. But I distrust,
myself, my claims to be thus viewed, and the feelings with which Don
Fernando may first behold me. I know--nay, I _feel_ him to be graceful,
and noble, and valiant, and generous, and good; comely to the eye, and
strict of duty to our holy religion; as illustrious in qualities as in
birth; and I tremble to think of my own unsuitableness to be his bride
and queen."
"God's Justice!--I should like to meet the impudent Aragonese noble that
would dare to hint as much as this! If Don Fernando is noble, are you
not nobler, Senora, as coming of the senior branch of the same house; if
he is young, are you not equally so; if he is wise, are you not wiser;
if he is comely, are you not more of an angel than a woman; if he is
valiant, are you not virtuous; if he is graceful, are you not grace
itself; if he is generous, are you not good, and what is more, are you
not the very soul of generosity; if he is strict of duty in matters of
our holy religion, are you not an angel?"
"Good sooth--good sooth--Beatriz, thou art a comforter! I could reprove
thee for this idle tongue, but I know thee honest."
"This is no more than that deep modesty, honored mistress, which ever
maketh you quicker to see the merits of others, than to perceive your
own. Let Don Fernando look to it! Though he come in all the pomp and
glory of his many crowns, I warrant you we find him a royal maiden in
Castile, who shall abash him and rebuke his vanity, even while she
appears before him in the sweet guise of her own meek nature!"
"I have said naught of Don Fernando's vanity, Beatriz--nor do I esteem
him in the least inclined to so weak a feeling; and as for pomp, we well
know that gold no more abounds at Zaragosa than at Valladolid, albeit he
hath many crowns, in possession, and in reserve. Notwithstanding all thy
foolish but friendly tongue hath uttered, I distrust myself, and not the
King of Sicily. Methinks I could meet any other prince in Christendom
with indifference--or, at least, as becometh my rank and sex; but I
confess, I tremble at the thought of encountering the eyes and opinions
of my noble cousin."
Beatriz listened with interest; and when her royal mistress ceased
speaking, she kissed her hand affectionately, and then pressed it to her
heart.
"Let Don Fernando tremble, rather, Senora, at encountering yours," she
answered.
"Nay, Beatriz, we know that he hath nothing to dread, for report
speaketh but too favorably of him. But, why linger here in doubt and
apprehension, when the staff on which it is my duty to lean, is ready to
receive its burthen: Father Alonso doubtless waiteth for us, and we will
now join him."
The princess and her friend now repaired to the chapel of the palace,
where her confessor celebrated the daily mass. The self-distrust which
disturbed the feelings of the modest Isabella was appeased by the holy
rites, or, rather, it took refuge on that rock where she was accustomed
to place all her troubles, with her sins. As the little assemblage left
the chapel, one, hot with haste, arrived with the expected, but still
doubted tidings, that the King of Sicily had reached Duenas in safety,
and that, as he was now in the very centre of his supporters, there
could no longer be any reasonable distrust of the speedy celebration of
the contemplated marriage.
Isabella was much overcome with this news, and required more than usual
of the care of Beatriz de Bobadilla, to restore her to that sweet
serenity of mind and air, which ordinarily rendered her presence as
attractive as it was commanding. An hour or two spent in meditation and
prayer, however, finally produced a gentle calm in her feelings, and
these two friends were again alone, in the very apartment where we first
introduced them to the reader.
"Hast thou seen Don Andres de Cabrera?" demanded the princess, taking a
hand from a brow which had been often pressed in a sort of bewildered
recollection.
Beatriz de Bobadilla blushed--and then she laughed outright, with a
freedom that the long-established affection of her mistress did not
rebuke.
"For a youth of thirty, and a cavalier well hacked in the wars of the
Moors, Don Andres hath a nimble foot," she answered. "He brought hither
the tidings of the arrival; and with it he brought his own delightful
person, to show it was no lie. For one so experienced, he hath a strong
propensity to talk; and so, in sooth, while you, my honored mistress,
would be in your closet alone, I could but listen to all the marvels of
the journey. It seems, Senora, that they did not reach Duenas any too
soon; for the only purse among them was mislaid, or blown away by the
wind on account of its lightness."
"I trust this accident hath been repaired. Few of the house of
Trastamara have much gold at this trying moment, and yet none are wont
to be entirely without it."
"Don Andres is neither beggar nor miser. He is now in our Castile, where
I doubt not he is familiar with the Jews and money-lenders; as these
last must know the full value of his lands, the King of Sicily will not
want. I hear, too, that the Count of Trevino hath conducted nobly with
him."
"It shall be well for the Count of Trevino that he hath had this
liberality. But, Beatriz, bring forth the writing materials; it is meet
that I, at once, acquaint Don Enriquez with this event, and with my
purpose of marriage."
"Nay, dearest mistress, this is out of all rule. When a maiden, gentle
or simple, intendeth marriage against her kinsmen's wishes, it is the
way to wed first, and to write the letter and ask the blessing when the
evil is done."
"Go to, light-of-speech! Thou hast spoken; now bring the pens and paper.
The king is not only my lord and sovereign, but he is my nearest of kin,
and should be my father."
"And Dona Joanna of Portugal, his royal consort, and our illustrious
queen, should be your mother; and a fitting guide would she be to any
modest virgin! No--no--my beloved mistress; your royal mother was the
Dona Isabella of Portugal--and a very different princess was she from
this, her wanton niece."
"Thou givest thyself too much license, Dona Beatriz, and forgettest my
request. I desire to write to my brother the king."
It was so seldom that Isabella spoke sternly, that her friend started,
and the tears rushed to her eyes at this rebuke; but she procured the
writing materials, before she presumed to look into Isabella's face, in
order to ascertain if she were really angered. There all was beautiful
serenity again; and the Lady of Bobadilla, perceiving that her
mistress's mind was altogether occupied with the matter before her, and
that she had already forgotten her displeasure, chose to make no further
allusion to the subject.
Isabella now wrote her celebrated letter, in which she appeared to
forget all her natural timidity, and to speak solely as a princess. By
the treaty of Toros de Guisando, in which, setting aside the claims of
Joanna of Portugal's daughter, she had been recognized as the heiress of
the throne, it had been stipulated that she should not marry without the
king's consent; and she now apologized for the step she was about to
take, on the substantial plea that her enemies had disregarded the
solemn compact entered into not to urge her into any union that was
unsuitable or disagreeable to herself. She then alluded to the political
advantages that would follow the union of the crowns of Castile and
Aragon, and solicited the king's approbation of the step she was about
to take. This letter, after having been submitted to John de Vivero, and
others of her council, was dispatched by a special messenger--after
which act the arrangements necessary as preliminaries to a meeting
between the betrothed were entered into. Castilian etiquette was
proverbial, even in that age; and the discussion led to a proposal that
Isabella rejected with her usual modesty and discretion.
"It seemeth to me," said John de Vivero, "that this alliance should not
take place without some admission, on the part of Don Fernando, of the
inferiority of Aragon to our own Castile. The house of the latter
kingdom is but a junior branch of the reigning House of Castile, and the
former territory of old was admitted to have a dependency on the
latter."
This proposition was much applauded, until the beautiful and natural
sentiments of the princess, herself, interposed to expose its weakness
and its deformities.
"It is doubtless true," she said, "that Don Juan of Aragon is the son of
the younger brother of my royal grandfather; but he is none the less a
king. Nay, besides his crown of Aragon--a country, if thou wilt, which
is inferior to Castile--he hath those of Naples and Sicily; not to speak
of Navarre, over which he ruleth, although it may not be with too much
right. Don Fernando even weareth the crown of Sicily, by the
renunciation of Don Juan; and shall he, a crowned sovereign, make
concessions to one who is barely a princess, and whom it may never
please God to conduct to a throne? Moreover, Don John of Vivero, I
beseech thee to remember the errand that bringeth the King of Sicily to
Valladolid. Both he and I have two parts to perform, and two characters
to maintain--those of prince and princess, and those of Christians
wedded and bound by holy marriage ties. It would ill become one that is
about to take on herself the duties and obligations of a wife, to begin
the intercourse with exactions that should be humiliating to the pride
and self-respect of her lord. Aragon may truly be an inferior realm to
Castile--but Ferdinand of Aragon is even now every way the equal of
Isabella of Castile; and when he shall receive my vows, and, with them,
my duty and my affections"--Isabella's color deepened, and her mild eye
lighted with a sort of holy enthusiasm--"as befitteth a woman, though an
infidel, he would become, in some particulars, my superior. Let me,
then, hear no more of this; for it could not nearly as much pain Don
Fernando to make the concessions ye require, as it paineth me to hear of
them."