In 1568 died Don Carlos, Prince of Asturias, the son of Philip II. of
Spain; and in the same year died Isabella of Valois, the young and
beautiful queen of the Spanish monarch. Legend has connected the names of
Carlos and Isabella, and a mystery hangs over them which research has
failed to dispel. Their supposed love, their untimely fate, and the
suspicion that their death was due to the jealousy of the king, have
proved a prolific theme for fiction, and the story of the supposed unhappy
fate of the two has passed from the domain of history into that of romance
and the drama, there being more than one fine play based on the loves and
misfortunes of Carlos and Isabella. But sober history tells nothing of the
kind, and it is with history that we are here concerned.
Carlos, the heir of the throne of Spain, was born in 1545. He was a bold,
headstrong boy, reckless in disposition, fond of manly exercises, generous
to a fault, fearless of heart, and passionately desirous of a military
life. In figure he was deformed, one shoulder being higher and one leg
longer than the other, while his chest was flat and his back slightly
humped. His features were not unhandsome, though very pale, and he spoke
with some difficulty. He was feeble and sickly as a boy, subject to
intermittent fever, and wasted away so greatly that it seemed as if he
would not live to manhood.
Such were the mental and physical characteristics of the princely youth
who while still young was betrothed by treaty to the beautiful French
princess Isabella of Valois. The marriage was not destined to take place.
Before the treaty was ratified, Queen Mary of England, Philip's wife,
died, and his name was substituted for that of his son in the marriage
treaty. The wedding ceremony took place at Toledo, in February, 1560, and
was celebrated with great splendor. Carlos was present, and may have felt
some resentment at being robbed by his father of this beautiful bride.
Romantic historians tell us that Isabella felt a tender sentiment for him,
a very unlikely statement in view of the fact that he was at that time a
sickly, ill-favored boy of only fourteen years of age. Shortly after the
marriage Carlos was formally recognized as heir to the crown.
Two years afterwards a serious accident occurred. In descending a flight
of stairs the boy slipped and fell headlong, injuring his head so severely
that his life was despaired of. His head swelled to an enormous size; he
became delirious and totally blind; examination showed that his skull was
fractured; a part of the bone was removed, but no relief was obtained. All
the arts of the doctors of that day were tried in vain, but the boy got no
better. Processions were made to the churches, prayers were offered, and
pilgrimages were vowed, all without avail. Then more radical means were
tried. The mouldering bones of a holy Franciscan, who had died a hundred
years before, and had always been the object of the prince's especial
veneration, were taken from their coffin and laid on the boy's bed, and
the cloth that had enclosed the dead man's skull was placed on his
forehead.
That night, we are gravely told, the dead friar came to Carlos in his
sleep, bidding him to "be of good cheer, for he would certainly recover."
Soon after, the fever subsided, his head shrank back to its natural size,
his sight returned. In two months from the date of the accident he was
physically well, his recovery being partly or wholly due to the skill of
an Italian surgeon, who trepanned him and by this act restored him to
consciousness.
Likely enough the boy was never cured. The blow may have done some
permanent injury to his brain. At any rate, he became strikingly eccentric
and reckless, giving way to every mad whim that came into his mind. The
stories of his wild doings formed the scandal of Madrid. In 1564 one of
his habits was to patrol the streets with a number of young nobles as
lawless as himself, attacking the passengers with their swords, kissing
the women, and using foul language to ladies of the highest rank.
At that time it was the custom for the young gallants of the court to wear
very large boots. Carlos increased the size of his, that he might carry in
them a pair of small pistols. Fearing mischief, the king ordered the
shoemaker to reduce the size of his son's boots; but when the unlucky son
of St. Crispin brought them to the palace, the prince flew into a rage,
beat him severely, and then ordered the leather to be cut into pieces and
stewed, and forced the shoemaker to swallow it on the spot--or as much of
it as he could get down.
These are only a sample of his pranks. He beat his governor, attempted to
throw his chamberlain out of the window, and threatened to stab Cardinal
Espinosa for banishing a favorite actor from the palace.
One anecdote told of him displays a reckless and whimsical humor. Having
need of money, Carlos asked of a merchant, named Grimaldo, a loan of
fifteen hundred ducats. The money-lender readily consented, thanked the
prince for the compliment, and, in the usual grandiloquent vein of
Castilian courtesy, told Carlos that all he had was at his disposal.
"I am glad to learn that," answered the prince. "You may make the loan,
then, one hundred thousand ducats."
Poor Grimaldo was thunderstruck. He tremblingly protested that it was
impossible,--he had not the money. "It would ruin my credit," he declared.
"What I said were only words of compliment."
"You have no right to bandy compliments with princes," Don Carlos replied.
"I take you at your word. If you do not, in twenty-four hours, pay over
the money to the last _real_, you shall have bitter cause to rue it."
The unhappy Grimaldo knew not what to do. Carlos was persistent. It took
much negotiation to induce the prince to reduce the sum to sixty thousand
ducats, which the merchant raised and paid,--with a malediction on all
words of compliment. The money flew like smoke from the prince's hands, he
being quite capable of squandering the revenues of a kingdom. He lived in
the utmost splendor, and was lavish with all who came near him, saying, in
support of his gifts and charities, "Who will give if princes do not?"
The mad excesses of the prince, his wild defiance of decency and decorum,
were little to the liking of his father, who surrounded the young man with
agents whom he justly looked upon as spies, and became wilder in his
conduct in consequence. Offers of marriage were made from abroad.
Catharine de Medicis proposed the hand of a younger sister of Isabella.
The emperor of Germany pressed for a union with his daughter Anne, the
cousin of Carlos. Philip agreed to the latter, but deferred the marriage.
He married Anne himself after the death of Carlos, making her his fourth
wife. Thus both the princesses intended for the son became the brides of
the father.
The trouble between Carlos and his father steadily grew. The prince was
now twenty-one years of age, and, in his eagerness for a military life,
wished to take charge of affairs in the Netherlands, then in rebellion
against Spain. On learning that the Duke of Alva was to be sent thither,
Carlos said to him, "You are not to go there; I will go myself."
The efforts of the duke to soothe him only irritated him, and in the end
he drew his dagger and exclaimed, "You shall not go; if you do I will kill
you."
A struggle followed, the prince making violent efforts to stab the duke.
It only ended when a chamberlain came in and rescued Alva. This outrage on
his minister doubled the feeling of animosity between father and son, and
they grew so hostile that they ceased to speak, though living in the same
palace.
The next escapade of Carlos brought matters to a crisis. He determined to
fly from Spain and seek a more agreeable home in Germany or the
Netherlands. As usual, he had no money, and he tried to obtain funds by
demanding loans from different cities,--a reckless process which at once
proclaimed that he had some mad design in mind. He went further than this,
saying to his confidants that "he wished to kill a man with whom he had a
quarrel." This purpose he confessed to a priest, and demanded absolution.
The priest refused this startling request, and as the prince persisted in
his sanguinary purpose, a conclave of sixteen theologians was called
together to decide what action it was advisable to take in so
extraordinary a case.
After a debate on the subject, one of them asked Carlos the name of his
enemy. The prince calmly replied,--
"My father is the person. I wish to take his life."
This extraordinary declaration, in which the mad prince persisted, threw
the conclave into a state of the utmost consternation. On breaking up,
they sent a messenger to the king, then at the Escorial Palace, and made
him acquainted with the whole affair. This story, if it is true, seems to
indicate that the prince was insane.
His application to the cities for funds was in a measure successful. By
the middle of January, 1568, his agents brought him in a hundred and fifty
thousand ducats,--a fourth of the sum he had demanded. On the 17th he sent
an order to Don Ramon de Tassis, director-general of the posts, demanding
that eight horses should be provided for him that evening. Tassis,
suspecting something wrong, sent word that the horses were all out. Carlos
repeated his order in a peremptory manner, and the postmaster now sent all
the horses out, and proceeded with the news to the king at the Escorial.
Philip immediately returned to Madrid, where, the next morning, Carlos
attacked his uncle, Don John of Austria, with a drawn sword, because the
latter refused to repeat a conversation he had had with the king.
For some time Carlos had slept with the utmost precautions, as if he
feared an attack upon his life. His sword and dagger lay ready by his
bedside, and he kept a loaded musket within reach. He had also a bolt
constructed in such a manner that, by aid of pulleys, he could fasten or
unfasten the door of his chamber while in bed. All this was known to
Philip, and he ordered the mechanic who had made it to derange the
mechanism so that it would not work. To force a way into the chamber of a
man like Carlos might not have been safe.
[Illustration: THE ROYAL PALACE. MADRID.]