THE WOMEN OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY
The wealth which had come to Spain as the result of her conquests in
Moorish territory, and, far more, the treasure which was beginning to
pour into the country from the new Spanish possessions beyond the seas,
brought to the old peninsula a possibility for lavish and brilliant
display in dress which was by no means disregarded. All Europe, in this
same period of the Renaissance, had been undergoing to a greater or less
degree this social transformation, but the looms of Valencia and Granada
furnished the silks and brocades which other countries bought with
eagerness, and Spain may be considered very properly as the home of all
this courtly show. The wonderful gold cloths which were woven by the
deft fingers of the Moriscoes were everywhere prized by fine ladies and
ardent churchmen, for there was no finer material for a fetching robe of
state in all the world, and no altar cloth or priestly robe could
possess excelling beauty and not owe a debt to Spain. Someone has said
that women are compounds of plain-sewing and make-believe, daughters of
Sham and Hem, and, without questioning the truth of the statement, the
same remark might be applied to both the clergy and the women of this
period at least, if "fine-sewing" be substituted for "plain-sewing" in
the epigram. Isabella herself, in spite of her well-known serious
character, dressed in a way which was magnificent beyond belief, and
the smallest provincial court was a marvel of brave array. Never had the
women adorned themselves so splendidly before, the fashions were made
and followed with much scrupulous precision, and so great was the sum of
money expended by people of all classes, high and low, that the
far-seeing and prudent began to fear the consequences. It is said that
on more than one occasion the Cortes deplored the prevalent extravagance
and the foolish pride which made even the laboring classes vie in
richness of dress with the nobility, "whereby they not only squander
their own estate, but bring poverty and want to all." When, however,
Fernando and Isabella discovered that gold was being used in large
amounts in the weaving of these costly tissues, they issued an order
which not only prohibited the wearing of this finery, but inflicted
heavy penalties upon all those who should import, sell, or manufacture
any textures containing gold or silver threads!
While Her Most Catholic Majesty was issuing edicts of this kind relating
to the material affairs of life, it must not be supposed that she was in
any way neglecting the humanities, for the truth is quite the contrary.
Never before had such encouragement been given to learning by a Spanish
sovereign, and never before had there been so little jealousy of
foreigners in the matter of scholarship. Isabella was the leader in this
broad movement, and from all parts of Europe she summoned distinguished
men in science and literature, who were installed at her court in
positions of honor or were given chairs in the universities. The final
expulsion of the Moors had brought about an era of peace and quiet which
was much needed, as Spain had been rent by so much warfare and domestic
strife, and for so many years, that the more solid attainments in
literature had been much neglected, and the Spanish nobles were covered
with but a polite veneer of worldly information and knowledge which too
often cracked and showed the rough beneath. Isabella endeavored to
change this state of affairs, and by her own studies, and by her
manifest interest in the work of the schools, she soon succeeded in
placing learning in a position of high esteem, even among the nobles,
who did not need it for their advancement in the world. Paul Jove wrote:
"No Spaniard was accounted noble who was indifferent to learning;" and
so great was the queen's influence, that more than one scion of a noble
house was glad to enter upon a scholarly career and hold a university
appointment. It may well be imagined that in all this new intellectual
movement which was stimulated by Isabella, it was the sober side of
literature and of scholarship which was encouraged, as a light and vain
thing such as lyric poetry would have been as much out of place in the
court of the firm defender of the Catholic faith as the traditional bull
in the traditional china shop. Isabella, under priestly influences,
favored and furthered the revival of interest in the study of Greek and
Latin, and it is in this realm of classical study that the scholars of
the time were celebrated.
The power of example is a wonderful thing always, and in the present
instance the direct results of Isabella's interest in education may be
seen in the fact that many of the women of her day began to show an
unusual interest in schools and books. The opportunities for an
education were not limited to the members of the sterner sex, and it
appears that both men and women were eager to take advantage of the many
new opportunities which were afforded them at this epoch. A certain Dona
Beatriz de Galindo was considered the greatest Latin scholar among the
women of her time, and for several years her praises were sounded in all
the universities. Finally, Dona Beatriz was appointed special teacher
in the Latin language to the queen herself; and so great was her success
with this royal pupil, that she was rewarded with the title _la Latina_,
by which she was commonly known ever after. According to a Spanish
proverb, "the best counsel is that of a woman," and surely Isabella
acted upon that supposition. This is not all, however, for not only was
a woman called to give lessons to the queen, but women were intrusted
with important university positions, which they filled with no small
credit to themselves. Good Dr. Holmes has said: "Our ice-eyed
brain-women are really admirable if we only ask of them just what they
can give and no more," but the bluestockings of Isabella's day were by
no means ice-eyed or limited in their accomplishments, and they managed
to combine a rare grace and beauty of the dark southern type with a
scholarship which was most unusual, all things taken into consideration.
Dona Francisca de Lebrija, a daughter of the great Andalusian humanist
Antonio de Lebrija, followed her father's courses in the universities of
Seville, Salamanca, and Alcala, and finally, in recognition of her great
talents, she was invited to lecture upon rhetoric before the Alcala
students. At Salamanca, too, there was a liberal spirit shown toward
women, and there it was that Dona Lucia de Medrano delivered a course of
most learned lectures upon classical Latinity. These are merely the more
illustrious among the learned women of the time, and must not be
considered as the only cases on record. Educational standards for the
majority of both men and women were not high, as a matter of course,
and, from the very nature of things, there were more learned men than
learned women; but the fact remains that Isabella's position in the
whole matter, her desire to learn and her desire to give other women the
same opportunity and the same desire, did much to encourage an ambition
of this kind among the wives and daughters of Spain. The queen was a
conspicuous incarnation of woman's possibilities, and her enlightened
views did much to broaden the feminine horizon. Where she led the way
others dared to follow, and the net result was a distinct advance in
national culture.
In spite of all this intellectual advance, the game of politics was
still being played, and women were still, in more than one instance, the
unhappy pawns upon the board who were sacrificed from time to time in
the interest of some important move. The success of Spanish unity had
aroused Spanish ambition, Fernando and Isabella had arranged political
marriages for their children, and the sixteenth century was to show
that, in one instance at least, this practical and utilitarian view of
the marriage relation brought untold misery and hardship to one poor
Spanish princess. In each case the royal alliances which were contracted
by the Spanish rulers for their various children were the subject of
much careful planning and negotiation, and yet, in spite of it all,
these measures constitute the most conspicuous failure in all their long
reign. Particularly pathetic and distressing is the story of the poor
Princess Juana, whose prospects were most brilliant and whose destiny
was most cruel. Juana was married in 1496 to the Archduke Philip of
Austria, Governor of the Netherlands and heir to the great domain of his
father, the Emperor Maximilian, and the wedding had been celebrated in a
most gorgeous fashion. It was in the month of August that a splendid
Spanish fleet set out from Laredo, a little port between Bilbao and
Santander, to carry the Spanish maiden to her waiting bridegroom. As is
usual in such affairs, the beauty of the girl had been much extolled,
and the archduke, then in his eighteenth year, was all aglow with hope
and expectation. Watchmen had been posted to keep a lookout for the
ships from Spain, and when they finally came in sight with their
glistening white sails and their masts and spars all gay with flags and
streamers, salutes were fired and they received a royal welcome. The
Spanish admiral in person led the Princess Juana to meet her affianced
husband, and soon after, in the great cathedral at Lille, the two young
people were married in the midst of great festivities. It seems almost
pitiful to think of the human side of all this great and glittering
show. Juana was barely seventeen years of age, alone, without mother or
father or sister or brother, in a strange land, in the midst of a
strange court, where all about her were speaking a strange language, and
the wife of a youth whom she had never seen until the eve of her
marriage! For a few long weeks Juana was somewhat reserved in her new
surroundings, and in her heart she longed again for Spain; but as the
days passed she became accustomed to her new home, took pleasure in the
greater liberty which was now accorded her as a married woman, and soon,
neglected by her parents, so far as any show of affection was concerned,
she learned to grow indifferent to them and to all their interests. By
the year 1500, however, Juana had become a most important person, as
death had claimed her brother and her older sisters and she now remained
the rightful heir not only to Aragon, but to her mother's realm of
Castile as well. This fact caused much uneasiness in Spain, as such an
outcome was most unexpected. Secret agents who had been sent to Flanders
to inquire into the political and religious views of the archduchess
brought back most discouraging reports. It was asserted that she was no
longer a careful Catholic, that she "had little or no devotion," and
that she was "in the hands of worthless clerics from Paris." As a matter
of fact, Juana, once freed from the ecclesiastical restraints which had
been imposed upon her in her younger days by her pious mother, did what
it was most natural for her to do,--she went to the opposite extreme.
Spain, at that time, with its Inquisition and its fervid zeal for Rome,
was the most religious country in Europe, while in the Netherlands there
was a growing liberal spirit which attracted the archduchess. It must
have been annoying to her to feel that her mother, Isabella, was in a
constant fret about the condition of her soul, while otherwise she was
treated with a distant formality, entirely devoid of a mother's love,
and it is no small wonder that she refused to accept a spiritual
director and father confessor who had been sent from Spain to save her
from perdition.
With all these facts in mind, Isabella was greatly troubled, for the
thought that the indifferent Juana might some day reign in her stead and
undo all that she had done with so much labor for the glory of the
Church was naturally repugnant to her devout nature. Finally, after a
son was born to Juana, Charles, who was to become at a later day the
Emperor Charles V., the queen decided upon a somewhat doubtful procedure
to avert, for a time at least, the impending catastrophe. The Cortes,
under royal pressure, was induced to provide for the government after
Isabella's death, in case Juana might be absent from the kingdom, or in
case of her "being present in Castile, but, unwilling or unable to
reign." Under any or all of those circumstances, it was provided that
Fernando should act as regent until her son Charles had reached his
twentieth year, a rather unusual age, at a time when young princes were
frequently declared to have attained their majority at fifteen or
sixteen. Isabella's intention in all this was too obvious, for it was
plainly a part of her plan that Juana should never have any share in the
government of the country of which she was the rightful heir. The whole
transaction smacks strongly of duplicity of the worst kind, for at the
very time that the Cortes was being prevailed upon to do this, Juana was
being given a royal welcome in both Aragon and Castile, for she had been
induced to come home for a visit; and she was even being given public
recognition as the future queen of these two countries. There were
feasts and tournaments given in her honor, Fernando and Isabella
introduced her to their subjects with apparent pleasure, and yet under
it all was this heartless trick which they had planned in utter defiance
of the law. Still, the law in Spain at this time was almost synonymous
with the wish of the sovereign; and so powerful was Isabella and so
great was her influence with her legislative body, that there was little
dissent to the plan for usurpation which had its origin in her fertile
brain. The reasons for this action will never be definitely known,
perhaps. It would hardly seem that Juana's lukewarm Catholicism would be
sufficient to warrant so radical a step, and it is difficult to give
credence to the vaguely circulated rumor that Juana was insane.
Whether this alleged insanity was real or not, it served as a pretext
for the action taken, and the report regarding the unhappy princess was
soon common property. When Isabella drew her last breath in 1504,
Fernando artfully convoked the Cortes, formally renounced any interest
in the succession to the throne of Castile, and caused Juana and Philip
to be proclaimed as successors to Isabella and himself. Within two
months, however, Juana's claims were completely disregarded, it was
officially announced that she was not in her right mind, and Fernando
was empowered to take control of the Castilian government and rule as
regent, according to the terms of the decree which had been arranged by
Isabella some years before, and was to remain as a _de facto_ sovereign
until Charles had reached the specified majority. The statements which
were made to support the claim as to her insanity were not altogether
clear, and to-day at least they do not seem convincing. Her attitude of
indifference toward the extreme point of view taken by her mother in
regard to religion may have been scandalous, as no doubt it was at that
time, but it was hardly evidence of an impaired intellect. During her
last visit to Spain before her mother's death, Juana had resisted with
violence when she was imprisoned for a time and had not been allowed to
go to her husband, and such resistance was quite natural in a
high-spirited young woman who was being treated in a high-handed and
illegal manner; but because her jailer had been the Bishop of Burgos,
and because she had been detained by royal order, her action was
considered as a certain indication of mental derangement. Again, it was
asserted that on one occasion, soon after Juana's return to Flanders
from the place of her imprisonment, she gave unmistakable signs of
insanity in the course of a court quarrel. It seems that during her
absence a certain lady in waiting at her ducal court had succeeded in
winning the favor of Philip, and had received such marked attentions
from the archduke that the affair was soon gossiped about in every nook
and corner of the palace, from scullery maid to the lord high
chamberlain. Juana was given a full account of the whole affair before
she had been in the palace twenty-four hours, and it so enraged her that
she sought out her rival in her husband's affection, and, after a
terrible scene, clipped the golden locks of the fair enchantress so
close to her head that, for a time at least, her beauty was marred. This
was not dignified action, and it might well have been the act of any
angered woman under those circumstances, but in Spain the one terrible
word "insanity" was whispered about and no other explanation could or
would be accepted. Her sanity had never been questioned in Flanders,
and, in spite of her quick temper and many unreasonable acts, no one had
ever thought to fasten this terrible suspicion upon her. The game was
worth the candle, however; Isabella had been unwilling to take any
chances, and the ambiguous clause, "being present in Castile, but unable
or unwilling to reign," gave the hint which Fernando had been only too
willing to act upon, and the trumped-up charge of insanity was an easy
thing to sustain.
Fernando's assumption of the regency, however, and the action of the
Cortes, which virtually disregarded the claims of Juana to the throne,
angered her and her husband still more, and they set out by ship for
Spain, after some delay, to demand an explanation. Fernando went to meet
them at the little village of Villafafila, and there, after an audience
with the archduke which took place in the little parish church and which
lasted for several hours, it was agreed between them that Juana, "on
account of her infirmities and sufferings, which decency forbids to be
related," was to be "refused under any circumstances to occupy herself
with the affairs of the kingdom," and it was mutually agreed that Juana
was to be prevented by force, if necessary, from taking any part in the
government of Castile! What happened in that interview no man can ever
know exactly, but it certainly appears that the wily Fernando had been
able by some trick or mass of false evidence to convince Philip that
Juana was really insane, and yet he had been with his wife almost
continually for the previous two years and had not thought of her in
that light, and Fernando had not even seen his daughter within that same
space of time! But then and there the fate of the much-abused princess
was definitely decided. Juana, self-willed as she had shown herself to
be, was not a woman of strong character or any great ability, and her
husband had so regularly controlled her and bent her to his will that he
found little trouble in the present instance in deposing her entirely,
that he might rule Castile in her stead. When Philip died suddenly two
months after he had assumed the reigns of government, Juana was stricken
with a great grief, which, it is said, did not at first find the
ordinary solace afforded by tears. She refused for a long time to
believe him dead; and when there was no longer any doubt of the fact,
she became almost violent in her sorrow. She had watched by her
husband's bedside during his illness, and was most suspicious of all who
had anything to do with her, for she thought, as was probably the case,
that Philip had been poisoned, and she feared that the same fate might
be reserved for her. In any event, Juana was treated with little or no
consideration at this unhappy moment; the Cardinal Ximenes, who had been
made grand inquisitor, assumed control of the state until Fernando might
be summoned from Naples, whither he had gone; and, all in all, the
rightful heir to the throne was utterly despised and disregarded. She
was allowed to follow her husband's body to its last resting place, and
then, after a brief delay, she went to live at Arcos, where she was well
watched and guarded by her jealous father, who feared that some
disaffected nobles might seek her out and gain her aid in organizing a
revolt against his own government. While in this seclusion, Juana was
sought in marriage by several suitors, and among them Henry VII. of
England; but all these negotiations came to naught, and in the end she
was sent to the fortress of Tordesillas, where she was kept in close
confinement until the time of her death.
There is no trustworthy evidence to show that Juana was mad before the
death of her husband, and all her eccentricities of manner could well
have been accounted for by her wayward, jealous, and hysterical
character, but after her domestic tragedy there is little doubt but that
her mind was to some degree unsettled. Naturally nervous, and feeling
herself in the absolute power of persons who were hostile to her
interests, she became most excitable and suspicious, and may well have
lost her reason before her last hour came. The story of her confinement
in the old fortress at Tordesillas is enough in itself to show that
stronger minds than hers might have given way under that strain. This
palace-prison overlooked the river Douro, and was composed of a great
hall, which extended across the front of the building, and a number of
small, dark, and poorly ventilated rooms at the back. In addition to the
jailer, who was responsible for the prisoner, the place was filled with
a number of women, whose duty it was to keep a close watch upon Juana
and prevent her from making any attempt to escape. The use of the great
hall with its view across the river was practically denied to her, she
was never allowed to look out of the window under any circumstances, for
fear she might appeal to some passer-by for aid, and, in general, unless
she was under especial surveillance, she was confined, day in and day
out, in a little back room, a veritable cell, which was without windows,
and where her only light came from the rude candles common to that age.
Priests were frequent visitors, but, to the end, Juana would have
nothing to do with them, and it is even said that on more than one
occasion she had to be dragged to the prison chapel when she was ordered
to hear mass. No man can tell whether this unhappy woman would have
developed a strong, self-reliant character if the course of her life had
been other than it was, but, accepting the facts as they stand, there is
no more pathetic figure in all the history of Spain than this poor,
mistreated Juana la Loca, "the mad Juana," and to every diligent
student of Spanish history this instance of woman's inhumanity to woman
will ever be a blot on the scutcheon of the celebrated Isabella of
Castile.
The religious fanaticism which was responsible in part at least for the
fate of Juana soon took shape in a modified form as a definite national
policy, and the grandson and great-grandson of Isabella, Charles V. and
his son, King Philip, showed themselves equally ardent in the defence of
the Catholic faith, even if their ardor did not lead them to treat with
inhumanity some member of their own family. Spain gloried in this
religious leadership, exhausted herself in her efforts to maintain the
cause of Rome in the face of the growing force of the Reformation, and
not only sent her sons to die upon foreign battlefields, but ruthlessly
took the lives of many of her best citizens at home in her despairing
efforts to wipe out every trace of heresy. This whole ecclesiastical
campaign produced a marked change in the character of the Spanish
people; they lost many of their easy-going ways, while retaining their
indomitable spirit of national pride, and became stern, vindictive, and
bigoted. In the process of this transformation, the women of the country
were perhaps in advance of the men in responding to the new influences
which were at work upon them. The number of convents increased rapidly,
every countryside had its wonder-working nun who could unveil the
mysteries of the world while in the power of some ecstatic trance, and
women everywhere were the most tireless supporters of the clergy. It was
natural that this should be the case, for there was a nervous excitement
in the air which was especially effective upon feminine minds, and the
Spanish woman in particular was sensitive and impressionable and easily
influenced. Among all of the devout women of this age living a
conventual life, the most distinguished, beyond any question, was
Teresa de Cepeda, who is perhaps the favorite saint of modern Spain
to-day.
Teresa's early life resembled that of any other well-born young girl of
her time, although she must have enjoyed rather exceptional educational
advantages, as her father was a man of scholarly instincts, who took an
interest in his daughter's development and sedulously cultivated her
taste for books. When Teresa was born in 1515, the Spanish romances of
chivalry and knight-errantry were in the full tide of their popularity;
and as soon as the little girl was able to read, she spent many hours
over these fascinating tales. Endowed by nature with a very unusual
imagination, she was soon so much absorbed in these wonder tales, which
were her mother's delight, that she often sat up far into the night to
finish the course of some absorbing adventure. At this juncture, her
father, fearing that this excitement might be harmful, tried to divert
her mind by putting in her way books of pious origin, wherein the
various trials and tribulations of the Christian martyrs were described
in a most graphic and realistic style. Soon Teresa was even more
interested in these stories than in those of a more worldly character,
and the glories of martyrdom, which were described as leading to a
direct enjoyment of heavenly bliss without any purgatorial delay, made
such a profound impression upon her youthful mind that she resolved at
the early age of seven to start out in search of a martyr's crown.
Prevailing upon her little brother to accompany her in this quest for
celestial happiness, she started out for the country of the Moors,
deeming that the surest way to attain the desired goal. While this
childish enthusiasm was nipped in the bud by the timely intervention of
an uncle, who met the two pilgrims trudging along the highway, the idea
lost none of its fascination for a time; and the two children
immediately began to play at being hermits in their father's garden,
and made donation to all the beggars in the neighborhood of whatever
they could find to give away, depriving themselves of many customary
pleasures to satisfy their pious zeal. With the lapse of time, however,
this morbid sentiment seemed to disappear, and Teresa was much like any
other girl in her enjoyment of the innocent pleasures of life. Avila, in
Old Castile, was her home, and there she was sent to an Augustinian
convent to complete her education, but without any idea that she would
eventually adopt a religious life for herself. This convent, indeed,
seemed to make little impression upon her, and it was only after a
chance visit made to an uncle who was about to enter a monastery, and
who entreated her to withdraw from the vanities of the world, that she
seems to have gone back with undimmed ardor to her childish notions. In
spite of her father's opposition, Teresa, in her eighteenth year, left
home one morning and went to install herself at the Carmelite convent of
the Incarnation, which was situated in the outskirts of her native city.
The lax discipline and somewhat worldly tone of the place proved a great
surprise to her, as she had imagined that the odor of sanctity must be
all-pervasive in a religious house; but she evidently accommodated
herself to the conditions as she found them, for she made no decided
protest and gave evidence of no special piety until twenty years after
she had formally given up the world. Then, saddened and sobered by her
father's death, Teresa began to have wonderful trances, accompanied by
visions wherein Christ, crucified, appeared to her time and time again.
Although in later times these unusual experiences have been adduced to
prove her saintship, at the time of their occurrence they were not
looked upon in the same light, and there were many who said that Teresa
was possessed of devils. She was more than half inclined to this view
of the case herself, and the eminent religious authorities who were
consulted in the matter advised her to scourge herself without mercy,
and to exorcise the figures, both celestial and infernal, which
continued to appear before her. The strange experiences continued to
trouble her, however, in spite of all that she could do, and to the end
of her days she was subject to them. Constantly occupied with illusions
and hallucinations, she soon became a religious mystic, living apart
from the world and yet deeply interested in its spiritual welfare. One
of her visions in particular shows into what a state of religious
exaltation she could be thrown. She imagined herself a frameless mirror
of infinite size, with Christ shining in the middle of it, and the
mirror itself, she knew not how, was in Christ!
In the midst of these experiences Teresa began to wonder what she could
do for the real advancement of the Church, and her first thought was
that there must be reform in the convents if the cause of religion was
to prosper. Discouraged by the members of her own convent, who looked
upon any reform movement as a reflection upon their own establishment,
Teresa was nevertheless encouraged to go on with her work by certain
far-seeing ecclesiastics who were able to appreciate its ultimate value.
It was her plan to establish a convent wherein all the early and austere
regulations of the Carmelite order were to be observed, and, by working
secretly, she was able to carry it out. There was violent protest, which
almost led to violence, and it was only after full papal approval that
she was allowed to go about her business unmolested. The reorganizing
spirit of the Counter-Reformation which was now at work within the
Catholic Church gave her moral support, and the remaining years of her
life were devoted to the work of conventual reorganization and
regeneration which she had begun with so stout a heart. It was her wont
to travel everywhere in a little cart which was drawn by a single
donkey, and winter and summer she went her way, enduring innumerable
hardships and privations, that her work might prosper. Sixteen convents
and fourteen monasteries were founded as the result of her efforts; and
as her sincerity and single-mindedness became more and more apparent,
she was everywhere hailed by the people as a devout and holy woman, and
was even worshipped by some as a saint on earth. Disappointment and
failure were her lot at times, and she found it difficult to maintain
the stern discipline of which she was such an ardent advocate. On one
occasion, it is said that her nuns in the convent of Saint Joseph, at
Avila, went on a strike and demanded a meat diet, which, it may be
added, she refused to grant; and a prioress at Medina answered one of
her communications in a very impertinent manner and showed other signs
of insubordination; but Teresa was calm and unruffled, in her outward
demeanor at least, and found a way by tactful management, and by a
judicious show of her authority, to settle all differences and disputes
without great difficulty. When death overtook her in 1582, miracles were
worked about her tomb, and when the vault was opened, after a period of
nine months, it is asserted that her body was uncorrupted. Removed to a
last resting place at Avila at a somewhat later date, her bones were
finally carried off by pious relic hunters, who believed them to possess
miraculous properties. In the forty years which followed her death,
Teresa was so revered throughout her native land that she was canonized
by Pope Gregory XV. in 1622. To her exalted spirit were joined a firm
judgment and a wonderful power of organization, and in placing her among
the saints she was given a merited reward for her holy labors.
The harsh intolerance which came with the Spanish Counter-Reformation
manifested itself oftentimes in acts of cruelty and oppression which are
almost beyond belief. So eager were the zealots for the triumph of pure
and unadulterated Catholicism, that no consideration whatever was shown
for the Moriscoes, or Spanish Moors, whose form of belief was Catholic,
but tinged with Moslem usages, and even women and children were made to
suffer the unreasoning persecution of the Christians. One offensive
measure after another was adopted for the discomfiture of the thrifty
sons of the Prophet, and finally, with the purpose of wiping out all
distinctions of any kind which might lead to a retention of national
characteristics, it was decreed in 1567 that no woman should walk abroad
with a covered face. Such a measure was certainly short-sighted. For
hundreds of years this Oriental custom had been common in southern
Spain; it was significant of much of their idea of social order and
decency, and any attempt to abolish it with a single stroke of a
Catholic pen was both unwise and imprudent. According to Hume, "this
practice had taken such a firm hold of the people of the south of Spain
that traces of it remain to the present day in Andalusia, where the
women of the poorer classes constantly cover the lower part of the face
with the corner of a shawl. In Peru and Chili (originally colonized by
the Spanish) the custom is even more universal." Yet it was this firmly
rooted habit that the Christians tried to destroy! As the result of this
order, the majority of the Spanish women showed themselves in public as
rarely as possible, and then they tried to evade the law whenever they
could. Other measures, equally severe and equally impossible, which were
enacted at the same time, ended finally, as might have been expected, in
a desperate revolt. A horde of Moslem fanatics, goaded to desperation,
swept down upon the Christians of Granada, and there was a terrible
massacre. This was all that was necessary to start the Spaniards upon a
campaign which was still more cruel than any which had preceded it, for
now the avowed object was revenge and not war. Six thousand helpless
women and children were slaughtered in a single day by the Marquis de
los Velez, and this is but a single instance of the bloodthirsty spirit
which was rampant at the time.
Even among the Spanish people, the officers of the Inquisition found
many victims, and women quite as often as men had to endure its rigors.
In spite of the many centuries of Christian influence, there were still
to be found in various parts of the country remnants of the old pagan
worship which were difficult to eradicate. It was claimed that sects
were in existence which not only denied the Christian faith, but openly
acknowledged the Devil as their patron and promised obedience to him! In
the ceremonies attendant upon this worship of the powers of darkness,
women played no unimportant part, and many were the reputed witches who
were supposed to be on terms of intimate acquaintance with the
arch-fiend in person. As the suppression of this heresy was assumed by
the Church, the Inquisition, as its punitive organ, took charge of the
matter and showed little mercy in its dealings with suspected persons,
for whom the rack and other instruments of torture were put to frequent
use. In the year 1507 the Inquisition of Calahorra burned more than
thirty women as sorceresses and magicians, and twenty years later, in
Navarre, there were similar condemnations. So frequent, indeed, were
these arrests for magic and sorcery, that the "sect of sorcerers," as it
was called, seemed to be making great headway throughout the whole
country, and the Inquisition called upon all good Christians to lodge
information with the proper authorities whenever they "heard that any
person had familiar spirits, and that he invoked demons in circles,
questioning them and expecting their answer, as a magician, or in virtue
of an express or tacit compact." It was also their duty to report anyone
who "constructed or procured mirrors, rings, phials, or other vessels
for the purpose of attracting, enclosing, and preserving a demon, who
replies to his questions and assists him in obtaining his wishes; or who
had endeavored to discover the future by interrogating demons in
possessed people; or tried to produce the same effect by invoking the
devil under the name of _holy angel_ or _white angel_, and by asking
things of him with prayers and humility, by practising other
superstitious ceremonies with vases, phials of water, or consecrated
tapers; by the inspection of the nails, and of the palm of the hand
rubbed with vinegar, or by endeavoring to obtain representations of
objects by means of phantoms in order to learn secret things or which
had not then happened." Such orders led to the arrest of hundreds of
women all over Spain, and many of them went to death in the flames, for
women rather than men were affected by this crusade, as they were
generally the adepts in these matters of the black art. That such things
could be in Spain at this time may cause some surprise, but it must be
remembered that superstition dies hard and that many of the things which
are here condemned are still advertised in the columns of the
newspapers, and the belief in the supernatural seems to have taken a new
lease of life as the result of certain modern investigations.
Superstition has ever gone hand in hand with civilization, in spite of
the repeated efforts of the latter to go its way alone.
Witches and sorceresses, however, were far outnumbered in the prisons of
the Inquisition by the numerous Spanish women who were accused of
Lutheranism, for the reformed doctrines had succeeded in making great
progress even here in this hotbed of popery, and many persons were
burned for their lack of faith in the old formulas of belief. An _auto
de fe_ was a great public holiday, celebrated in some large open square,
which had been especially prepared for the event, with tiers upon tiers
of seats arranged on every side for the accommodation of the thousands
of spectators; and to this inspiring performance came many noble ladies,
decked out as if for a bull fight, and eager to witness each act of
atrocity in its slightest detail. The names of scores of the women who
perished in this way might be cited to show that from all classes the
Church was claiming its victims; and even after death, condemnation
might come and punishment might be inflicted. To illustrate the
possibilities of this religious fury, the case of Dona Eleanora de
Vibero will more than suffice. She had been buried at Valladolid,
without any doubt as to her orthodoxy, but she was later accused of
Lutheranism by a treasurer of the Inquisition, who said that she had
concealed her opinions by receiving the sacraments and the Eucharist at
the time of her death. His charges were supported by the testimony of
several witnesses, who had been tortured or threatened; and the result
of it all was that her memory and her posterity were condemned to
infamy, her property was confiscated, and at the first solemn _auto de
fe_ of Valladolid, held in 1559, and attended by the Prince Don Carlos
and the Princess Juana, her disinterred body was burned with her effigy,
her house was razed to the ground, and a monument with an inscription
relating to this event was placed upon the spot.
Such is this sixteenth century in Spain, an age of strange contrasts,
where the greatest crimes are committed in the holy name of Religion!