WOMEN IN EARLY POLITICAL LIFE
After the time of the good Queen Constance and with the growth of the
Spanish monarchies, which in spite of all their internal turmoil and
confusion were fast becoming more powerful and more of a menace to the
Moslem rule, the wheels of fate seem to bring women into greater
political prominence than ever before. Constance, it is true, had been
no mean figure in that epoch, and had exerted a most powerful influence
in shaping the destinies of Spain for her own time and for the future,
but this was done by an exercise of indirect rather than direct
authority. Constance had been queen, but there had been a king to rule
as well, and with him remained the real power. As Constance influenced
him, she may have been said to use this royal power, it is true, but the
fact remains that it was the woman Constance who was using her powers of
feminine persuasion to bring about the results which were so dear to her
heart. No political responsibilities rested upon her shoulders, there
were no cares of state to weary and make uneasy her crowned head, and
she was free to follow her own penchants unimpeded by this larger task.
But now a wider field for the activities of women seems to come; in
Spain, chance gives them full control in their own name in certain
instances, and they bear the full responsibility. The measure of their
success may not be greater than the measure of their failure in these
new lines of endeavor, but, good or bad as their methods of
administration may have been, it does not appear that they fall below
the level of masculine achievement at the same time. And this is a
curious thing. Since the birth of time men have been regarding women as
weaklings, both mentally and physically. Tennyson has it that "woman is
the lesser man," and such has been the commonly expressed opinion.
Everything in the social life of the world has conspired to give truth
to this statement; women are still the real slaves of their husbands in
many countries, and the virtual slaves in almost all the world;
education has been granted to them grudgingly, the scope of their
intellect has been limited in the narrowest way; and in spite of all
these facts, in spite of this suppression and repression from time
immemorial, women have been able by some power or some cunning to exert
a most powerful influence in the world, and when called upon to take up
a man's work they have left a record for judgment and skill and wisdom
which needs no apologies and which is generally above the average. To
those who are content with generalities it may be sufficient to say that
women are not the equals of men, but to anyone who attempts to study,
step by step, the history of human development it becomes apparent that
the French admonition _Cherchez la femme_ contains the truth, unalloyed.
In America it has become the custom to say that in every great national
emergency there is always a man ready to meet the situation and meet it
nobly and with understanding; and what can be said here can be said with
equal truth perhaps in other countries of the world, but to this
statement it may be well to add that women also may be found to do nobly
the tasks which may fall to their lot.
In every day and generation, however, it will rarely be found that the
women are better than the men. The interests of men and women are so
identical from so many points of view, society is in so many ways but a
composite of their common interests, that their moral level must of
necessity be the same. By intuition, then, by inherent capacity, by
woman's wit, by that something feminine which is at once the power and
the charm of a woman, the members of this so-called weaker sex have been
able to take their place worthily beside their brothers in the open
field of the world's activities whenever circumstance has called them
forth, without the inheritance, the education, or the experience which
the men possess, but morally they can but be as society makes them.
There are exceptions to all rules, however; some women as well as some
men may be better or worse than the majority of their fellows, and these
are the ones who are signalled out by the historian for special
attention. The people who are always good and always happy have no
history, as there is nothing noteworthy to tell of them, life has no
tragedies, all is plain sailing, and the whole story can be told in a
few words. In a measure the same thing is true of the ordinary man, be
he good or bad, for what can be said of him can be said of a whole
class, and so the history of the class may be told, but the individual
will always remain in the background.
In the special epoch of Spanish history with which the present chapter
is concerned, the twelfth century and the first part of the thirteenth,
there is little to say of women in general which cannot be said of the
mediaeval women of other parts of Europe. Oriental ideas had been
introduced to some extent, it is true, by the Moors, but otherwise the
general ignorance and dependence of the women of the time call for no
special comment. Above this commonplace level there are to be seen,
nevertheless, two women who occupied a commanding position in the world,
which was quite unusual. They were both queens of Castile, and as one
was bad, vain, reckless, and frivolous, so was the other good,
unselfish, wise, and dignified. Within the extremes of character which
their lives present is traced the measure of a woman's possibilities at
that time.
Urraca of Castile, daughter of Constance and King Alfonso VII.,
inherited little of her mother's devout nature; the world rather than
the Church had attracted her, and she began to show at an early age a
taste for gallantry and intrigue which became but more pronounced with
her maturer years. She was dark rather than fair, with an imperious
bearing, she had compelling eyes, and there was a grace in her movements
which it was difficult to see without admiring, but she was vain, intent
upon conquest, and without an atom of moral firmness, if all accounts be
true. Her mother was sorely tried by her waywardness, but did not live
long enough to appreciate her real lack of moral instinct; and her
father, in spite of his several marriages, which were almost as numerous
as those of Henry VIII. of England, was chagrined to find Urraca as his
sole heir, no other children having survived. In the hope that France
might again furnish material for a dignified alliance as it had done
before in sending Constance herself, Alfonso arranged for the marriage
of Urraca with Raymond of Burgundy. Urraca was soon left a widow, with
one son, Alfonso; and while she apparently felt some affection for this
child, she was in no way weaned from her love of excitement, and was
soon again the soul and centre of the court's gay revels. One among the
throng of courtiers attracted her, the tall Count Gomez of Candespina,
and she made no secret of her love for him. As often seen together,
they formed a striking pair, and it was not strange that the Castilian
nobles should have wished to see them married, in spite of the fact that
the prospective bridegroom was not her equal by birth. No one dared to
give Alfonso this advice, however, as his refusal was a foregone
conclusion, all things being taken into consideration. Finally, the
Jewish physician of the court, Don Cidelio, allowing his interest in the
affair to get the better of his discretion, ventured to speak to the
king about Urraca and her lover. Alfonso, indignant, was so displeased,
that Don Cidelio was banished from the court at once, while he arranged
forthwith a political marriage which was full of possibilities for
Spain's future welfare. Alfonso, in his long reign, which had lasted for
forty-three years, had given such a great impetus to the movement of
reconquest directed against the Moors, that a strong and capable
successor could have completed his work and hastened the final Christian
victory by some four hundred years. Alfonso was far-seeing enough to
know the possibilities ahead, and it is easy to understand and
sympathize with his rage at the mere thought of the dapper, silken
Candespina. So the rebellious Urraca, with her heart full of love for
Count Gomez, was married, and just before her father's death in 1109, to
King Alfonso I., called _el batallador_ [the battler], and known as the
Emperor of Aragon. This union of Castile, Leon, and Aragon would have
promised much for the future, if the rulers of this united kingdom could
have lived in peace and harmony together. They were so unlike in every
way, however, that it was easy to predict trouble. The Battler was a
youth of great military skill and great ambition, but he was not a
courtier in any sense of the word and could not be compared in Urraca's
eyes with her carpet knight, Don Gomez. So she was loath to change her
mode of life, and he was in a state of constant irritation at her
worldliness; and as a natural consequence of it all, after a year of
turmoil and confusion, the two separated.
Content to lose his wife, Alfonso was quite unwilling to lose her broad
domain, and consequently Aragonese garrisons were installed in some of
the principal Castilian fortresses, while Urraca, a prisoner, was
confined in the fortress of Castelar. This was too much for the
Castilians to endure; so they at once took up arms in their queen's
defence and, furthermore, demanded a divorce on the ground that Urraca
and Alfonso were within the proscribed limits of consanguinity, as they
were both descended from Sancho the Great, of Navarre. While there was
much in the queen's character which the Castilian people could not
admire, they had never approved of her marriage with the _batallador_,
and were only too happy to have this excuse for severing the ties which
bound the two countries together. Urraca was rescued from her captivity,
and proceeded without delay to annoy her husband in every manner
possible. Her honored father's prime minister was deposed and his
estates confiscated, Don Gomez was given this high post and treated as
an acknowledged favorite, and most shamelessly, and the whole country
was shocked. But matters of self-defence were now of first importance to
the Castilians, and so they were compelled to overlook her misconduct
for the moment and prepare to withstand the irate Alfonso's threatened
invasion. He invited Henry, Count of Portugal, the brother of Urraca's
first husband,--and her son's guardian,--to aid him in this attack, and
together they invaded Castile and inflicted a complete defeat upon
Urraca's army at the battle of Sepulveda in the year 1111. The pope,
Pascal II., sent a legate, who granted the divorce for which the
Castilians had clamored; and Urraca, again a free woman, was now the
centre of her own little court, where she soon gathered about her a
small company of nobles who were vying with each other to obtain her
royal favor. Two among them, Count Gomez of Candespina, and Pedro, a
member of the great and powerful Lara family, hoped to marry her, but
she coquetted with them all to such good purpose that she succeeded in
keeping their good will by leaving them all in uncertainty as to her
serious intentions.
At this moment a new element appeared in the settlement of public
affairs. For the first time in the history of Spain, the privileged
towns and cities, which had been granted special charters by the late
Alfonso, Urraca's father, rose in their might and declared that Urraca
should be deposed and that her youthful son, Alfonso Ramon, should be
crowned in her stead. Seeing this turn of affairs, Henry of Portugal,
the young Alfonso's guardian, decided that he might best serve his own
interests by siding with the Castilians against the Battler, and he lost
no time in making this transfer of his allegiance. Castile and Leon were
still harried by the divorced husband, who now had no legal claim upon
them, and there was a general consolidation of national interests for
the national defence, while the conflicting interests with regard to the
succession within the country were at the same time pressing for
settlement and producing a state of strife and contention which was
little short of civil war. In the midst of it all, Urraca continued to
play the wanton, and soon so disgusted the Count of Portugal that he
deserted her standard. This he did on the eve of the great battle of
Espina, in the year 1112. Urraca still counted upon the devotion of her
nobles, but Lara fled from the field, the prime favorite Candespina was
killed, and the revengeful husband gained another victory. It was soon
evident, however, that Alfonso of Aragon could never meet with complete
success in his attempt to subdue Castile, and he wisely gave up the
struggle after a few more years of desultory fighting. Urraca was now in
a tight place, and in spite of all her arts and wiles she was unable to
gather about her again a party strong enough to command respect.
Candespina and Lara were no longer by her side, the other nobles had
lost patience with her constant intriguing, and the popular party,
backed by the towns, soon gained the ascendency, and Urraca was
compelled to resign in favor of her son. From this moment she sinks into
obscurity, and little more is known of her unhappy and profligate career
besides the fact that she came to her end, unregretted, in 1126.
According to the ancient _Laws of Manu_, "it is in the nature of the
feminine sex to seek here below, to corrupt men," and Menander has said,
sententiously, "where women are, are all kinds of mischief." While no
one at the present time, unless he be some confirmed woman-hater, will
be so ungallant as to attempt to maintain the truth of these sweeping
statements, there must have been, at various times and places in the
world, women of the kind indicated, as Queen Urraca of Castile, for
example, or these things would never have been said.
The great-grandson of Urraca, Alfonso III. of Castile, received as his
heritage the usual complement of strife and warfare which belonged to
almost all of the little Spanish monarchies throughout the greater part
of the twelfth century; but in the year 1170, arriving at his majority,
he entered into a friendly treaty of peace with Aragon, and in that same
fortunate year he married the Princess Eleanor, daughter of the English
king, Henry II. Apropos of this marriage and its general effect upon the
fortunes of Castile, Burke has written the following interesting
sentences: "Up to the time of this happy union, the reign of Alfonso
III. in Spain had been nothing but a succession of intrigues and civil
wars of the accustomed character; but from the day of his marriage in
1170 to the day of his death in 1214, after a reign of no less than
fifty-six years, he exercised the sovereign power without hindrance, if
not entirely without opposition, within his dominions. If the domestic
tranquillity of Castile during four-and-forty years may not be
attributed exclusively to the influence of the English queen, yet the
marriage bore fruits in a second generation, of which it would be
difficult to exaggerate the importance; for it was the blood of the
Plantagenets, that flowed in the veins of Berenguela, their daughter,
one of the true heroines of Spain."
In this instance, as in the case of the good Constance of Burgundy, we
see that Spain has been sobered and steadied by an infusion of foreign
blood. Constance, it is true, was a fanatic who cared little for the
national desires, and thought little of adapting herself to the national
conditions of life, so long as she could further her own ends, which
were those of the pope at Rome; and so stern and strict was her view of
life, and so rigid was her discipline, that it was impossible for her to
reconcile the lighter-minded Spaniards to her mode of thinking. For a
short time, by drastic methods, she subdued to some extent the frivolous
temper of her people; but she was so unlovable in her ways, and so
unloved by the people at large, that the sum total of her influence upon
Spanish life, apart from the somewhat questionable advantage which she
gave to Rome as the result of her activity, amounted to very little.
Even her own daughter, Urraca, in spite of the fact that she undoubtedly
inherited more from her father than she did from her mother, was, beyond
peradventure, rendered more wayward and more reckless by the mother's
narrow view of life. The gracious Eleanor, on the other hand, was more
liberal-minded, did everything in her power to get into touch with her
subjects, and by her kindliness and strength of character was able to
aid her husband in no mean degree in quieting civil discord and in
consolidating the interests of the country.
Her daughter Berenguela, brought up in the midst of these influences,
developed a strong and self-reliant character which early in her career
gave proof of its existence. In accord with that policy which has so
often obtained in the monarchies of Europe, it was decided that a
foreign alliance with some strong ruling house would redound to
advantage; and so great was the prestige of Castile at this time, that
Alfonso found no difficulty in arranging a marriage with Conrad, Count
of Suabia, the son of the great Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. As might
have been expected, this marriage was nothing but a political
arrangement which was to benefit Castile, and in which the will of
Berenguela, the person most interested, had not been consulted in any
manner whatever. It is not on record that Eleanor was opposed to this
arrangement for her daughter, not from any lack of independent
spirit,--for she came of a self-willed race, as the erratic life of her
brother, Richard Coeur de Lion, will show,--but because such marriages
were the common lot of the royal maidens of her time and were accepted
as matters of necessity. It must be remembered that the ideals of
marriage were yet much undeveloped and that "husband" and "lover" were
rarely, if ever, synonymous terms. It appears that the emperor not only
consented to this marriage between his son and Eleanor's daughter, but
was much in favor of the project and more than anxious to see the
consummation of it all, as Eleanor had brought Gascony to her husband as
a marriage portion, and the prospective inheritance of Berenguela was a
goodly one.
Fortunately for Berenguela, the marriage was postponed until she had
attained her majority; and when that day of partial freedom came, she
boldly declared that she would not marry the German prince, that she did
not know him and did not love him, and that nothing could force her to
such a bargain of herself. Great was the consternation in her father's
court, and great was the dismay in the North when Frederick Barbarossa
was told of this haughty Spanish maiden who refused the honor of an
alliance with his imperial house. The case was well-nigh unique; the
mediaeval world was startled in its traditional routine, and Berenguela's
audacity became the talk of every court in Europe. Prayers and
entreaties were in vain, so firmly did she stand her ground in spite of
the countless specious arguments which were used to bend her will, and,
finally, the matter was dropped and considered a closed incident. "Woman
sees deep; man sees far. To the man the world is his heart; to the woman
the heart is her world;" so says Christian Grabbe, and this epigram may
well be applied to Berenguela's case. Her heart was her world, and she
fought for it, and in her victory she won, not only for herself, but for
Spain as well. And it came about in this way. Berenguela was married,
and with her own consent, to Alfonso IX., King of Leon, who had of late
made war upon her father, and with this marriage and the peace which
followed between the two countries, Spain prospered for a time.
This Alfonso of Leon had already made one marriage venture which had
come to grief, for he had previously wedded the Princess Teresa of
Portugal, and his marriage had been forcibly dissolved by Pope Innocent
III., who was then, as Hume puts it, "riding rough-shod over the nations
of Christendom." This divorce had been pronounced on the ground that the
young couple were too closely related to each other; and as they
ventured to resist, they were for a time excommunicated. So Alfonso and
Teresa were finally separated, though not until several children had
been born to them, and then the young king led Berenguela to the altar.
This marriage, in its immediate result, was but a repetition of what had
gone before. The pope annulled it promptly on the same grounds of
consanguinity, and turned a deaf ear to every plea for reconsideration.
The case was not an unusual one; many marriages which were far less
regular in form had been sanctioned by this new Roman Caesar; and the
result of the marriage could be but for the benefit of Rome, as domestic
peace in Spain gave assurance of more successful opposition to the
Moslem rule. But the pope was firm, his holy permission had not been
obtained before the marriage had been celebrated, and, piqued at this
unintended slight which had been put upon his august authority, he
revealed his littleness by this show of spite.
Rebellious under this harsh decree because of its manifest injustice,
Alfonso and Berenguela endeavored to hold out against the pontiff, and
for seven years they lived together as man and wife, making their home
in Leon. Their life was to some degree a happy one together, children
were born to them, but ever about their path was the shadow of doubt
that was cast by the pope's decree. As a sad and pitiful end to it all,
Berenguela, a mother though not a wife, was forced to return to her
father's court in Castile, leaving the eldest son, Fernando, with the
father. In but one thing had the pope shown any mercy for this wedded
pair, and that was when he had consented to recognize the legitimacy of
their children; so Fernando could now be considered, without any doubt,
as the rightful heir to Leon. Meanwhile, Alfonso III. of Castile,
Berenguela's father, had won new laurels at the great battle known as
the Navas de Tolosa, where the Moors had suffered a crushing defeat, and
Castile was more than ever the leading Spanish power. But soon after
Berenguela's arrival, her father went to his long rest, and the crown
descended to his oldest son, Enrico, who was but a boy of ten. Queen
Eleanor was first intrusted with the administration of affairs, but she
soon followed her husband, dying within a month after this power had
been conferred upon her, and the regency passed by common consent to the
prudent care of Berenguela, who was, according to Hume, "the fittest
ruler in all Spain, the most prudent princess in all Christendom." This
regency, however, was not a time of peace and quiet, for the death of
the old king had given opportunity for the turbulent Lords of Lara to
break forth again in open revolt, and after a year of ineffectual
resistance Berenguela was compelled, in the interests of domestic
harmony, to surrender the person of her young brother into the control
of Alvaro Nunez, the leader of the opposition, who at once began to rule
the kingdom with a heavy hand. What Berenguela's fate would have been
and what Castile's if this usurper had been allowed to remain for a long
time in power is a matter for conjecture, but Alvaro's dreams of success
were soon shattered. Through some whim of fate it happened that the
young king was accidentally killed one morning as he was at play in the
courtyard of the palace, and Berenguela, as the only lawful heir, became
the Queen of Castile in her own right. In this trying moment,
clear-headed as usual, she gave further proof of her astuteness. She
realized that her husband might in some way try to make political
capital out of the situation and might try to work in his own interests
rather than in those of their son. For the young Fernando, recognized as
heir to Leon, would now, as the prospective ruler of Castile, be heir
to a larger estate than that of his father, and Alfonso was not a man
big enough to rejoice in this fact, as Berenguela well knew.
Accordingly, she sent speedy messengers to Alfonso before the news of
the death of the young King Enrico had reached him, and asked that her
son might come to her for a visit. The invitation was innocent enough,
to all appearances, and the request was granted, but no sooner was the
young prince safe within the boundaries of Castile than Berenguela
called a meeting of the States-General of her kingdom, and there, after
having received the homage of her nobles, in the midst of a most
brilliant gathering, she announced her intention of abdicating in favor
of her son, the heir to Leon. There was some objection to this move, as
Berenguela was so universally beloved that all were loath to lose her
from the sovereign's chair. She took great pains to point out to them
the advantage which would undoubtedly accrue to the country as the
result of this prospective union with Leon, assured them that her
interests would ever be theirs, and that she would at all times counsel
her son and help him in every way within her power; and finally, her
will prevailed and the abdication was approved.
Alfonso of Leon was more than irate when he learned of young Enrico's
death and realized the meaning of his son's visit to Castile, and he
immediately collected a large army and declared war upon his son.
Berenguela had foreseen this as the probable result of her course of
action and was not entirely unprepared in the emergency. The ultimate
peace and prosperity which might come to Spain with the definite union
of Castile and Leon were matters of such importance in her eyes that she
did not now hesitate to give of her personal wealth, even her jewels, as
Isabella did in a later day, to further the interests of the cause for
which she was contending. The goodness and sweetness of character
possessed by this great queen made such an impression upon all those who
came within the circle of her influence, and her cause was so manifestly
just, that her troops were filled with the zeal which knows no defeat,
and the conflict was a short one. Through Berenguela's diplomatic action
the war was brought to an end, harmony was restored between Castile and
Leon, and the united armies of the two countries were sent into southern
Spain to make further attack upon the Moorish strongholds.
Now comes an interesting moment in the queen's career, the moment when
she was planning with all her wisdom for her son's marriage and his
future success. The interminable commotion and discord, the vexatious
factional quarrels, and the undying hatreds which had been engendered by
a long series of Spanish intermarriages, had so filled her with disgust
that she determined, now that the union of Castile and Leon was
practically complete, to go outside of this narrow circle in her search
for a suitable mate for the young King Fernando. Her choice fell upon
the Princess Beatrice of Suabia, cousin of the emperor and member of the
same house which she had scorned in her younger days. But the Princess
Beatrice was fair and good, the young people were eager for the
marriage, and there was no good reason why the thing should not be done.
Before this wedding, Berenguela decided that her son must be received
into the order of knighthood. There was the customary period of courtly
ceremony, with games and gay festivals and much feasting, which lasted
for several days, and then came the sacred, final rites, which ended
with the accolade. The youthful king and would-be knight was taken, all
clothed in white, by two "grave and ancient" chevaliers to the chapel of
the monastery of Las Huelgas, near the old city of Burgos, and there,
having placed his arms piously upon the altar, he passed the night
alone, "bestowing himself in orisons and prayers." When the daybreak
came, he confessed to a priest, heard matins, and then went to rest and
prepare himself for the final scene. When he was at length brought back
to the chapel, there was a most imposing company awaiting him, composed
of all the knights of Castile and many others from far distant countries
who had come to wage war against the Moors; and in the presence of them
all, from the sanctified hands of his noble mother, came the magic touch
which made a man of him. The next day, in the great cathedral at Burgos,
the wedding was celebrated, for the German princess had come to Spain
for the function, and there was much pomp and much show of silks and
brocades and the glitter of gold and silver was backed by the glitter of
steel.
Soon King Fernando was in the saddle again, riding away toward the
south, leading a great host of knights, and one Moorish town after
another fell into their hands. While besieging Jaen, Fernando learned of
his father's death, which had occurred suddenly. Berenguela summoned her
son to return with all possible speed, but without waiting for his
arrival she set out at once for Leon, thinking that there might be work
to do. Nor was she wrong. Alfonso of Leon, jealous of his wife's great
renown and his son's growing success, and knowing that the union of
Castile and Leon was her most cherished project, deliberately left Leon
to his two daughters, Sancha and Dulce, children of his first marriage,
with Teresa of Portugal, perfectly sure that their claims could not find
adequate legal support, as these children had never been legitimized
after the pope's annulment of this marriage, but contented at the
thought that he had probably left an inheritance of dispute and possible
warfare which might be sufficient to make Bereuguela's plans miscarry.
But in this he reckoned without his host. Berenguela conducted her
affairs with the utmost discretion, conciliated the Leonese nobility,
caused her son to be proclaimed king, and brought about a permanent
union of the two countries without the loss of a single drop of blood.
Having accomplished this task, her next care was to provide in some
suitable way for Alfonso's two daughters. This she was under no
obligation to do, but her sense of justice left no other course of
conduct open to her. She arranged a meeting with their mother Teresa,
who had long since retired to a convent, and, journeying to the
Portuguese frontier, at Valencia de Alcantara in Galicia, these two
women, each the unwedded wife of the same man, came together to settle
the claims of their children to their dead husband's throne. The whole
matter was discussed in the most friendly way, and Berenguela was able
to carry her point that there should be no attempt to unseat Fernando
from the throne of Leon, and at the same time she made a proposition, by
way of indemnity, which Teresa, speaking for her daughters, was quite
ready to accept. The infantas were given by Fernando a pension of
fifteen thousand gold doubloons, in return for which they formally
agreed to abandon all claim to Leon, and this pension, under
Berenguela's direction, was paid in all faith and honor. In November of
the year 1246 this great queen died, and, according to her own
direction, she was buried at Burgos "in plain and humble fashion."
No better eulogy of her life and labors can ever be written than that
which is found in Burke's history of Spain, and no excuse is needed for
giving it in its entirety: Berenguela was one of those rare beings who
seems to have been born to do right and to have done it. From her
earliest youth she was a leading figure, a happy and noble influence in
one of the most contemptible and detestable societies of mediaeval
Christendom. Married of her own free will to a stranger and an enemy,
that she might bring peace to two kingdoms, she was ever a true and
loyal wife; unwedded by ecclesiastical tyranny in the very flower of her
young womanhood, she was ever a faithful daughter of the Church;
inheriting a crown when she had proved her own capacity for royal
dominion, she bestowed it on a strange and absent son, with no thought
but for the good of her country and of Christendom; and finally, as
queen-mother and ever faithful counsellor, she accepted all the
difficulties of government, while the glory of royalty was reserved for
the king whom she had created. Berenguela was ever present in the right
place, and at the proper time, and her name is associated only with what
is good and worthy and noble in an age of violence and wrong and
robbery; when good faith was well-nigh unknown, when bad men were
all-powerful, when murder was but an incident in family life, and
treason the chief feature in politics.