The Story of Don John of Austria by Luis Coloma (macos ebook reader .txt) 📕

The courier who took D. John's letter brought back Doña Magdalena's answer, that she would come to Madrid to give him the blessing he craved and the embrace he desired, and thousands of other blessings and embraces that she wanted to give him on her own account. D. John, delighted, ordered the rooms to be prepared that were always kept in his house for Doña Magdalena, which were comfortable and apart, in one of the towers which flanked the palace, which was, as we have said, that of the Conde de Lemus, in the square of Santiago; it was spacious and magnificent, with two stories and two towers, very like the Casa de Lujan, which still exists in the Plaza de la Villa.

D. John and Doña Magdalena had not seen each other since the death of Luis Quijada, and D. John was very much shocked at the great change he saw in her. Doña Magdalena was no longer the beautiful fine lady of whom good Luis Quijada had been so proud at the entertainments and solemnities of the Court. His death had freed her from the obligation of complying, like a good wife, with his wishes, innocent vanities, and the calls of high rank; and now, free from all such obligations, she had given herself entirely to the saintly impulses of her austere virtue.

Two pictures of her still exist, which fully show these two phases of her life. One is in the church of St. Luis at Villagarcia, and the other in that of St. Isidoro at Oviedo, both founded by the noble dame. In the first she is seen in all the glory of her youth and beauty, which was remarkable, in magnificent attire, with costly jewels and a commanding, though at the same time modest, attitude: the great lady who hides beneath her velvet and laces the austere virtues of the saint. In the second picture she wears the severe dress of the widows of the sixteenth century, more or less similar to that of many nuns of our own day, still handsome, but worn by years, penitence and vigils; her weeds of coarse woollen material, with wide stays stiffened with wood at the waist; she wears no jewels, nor is there anything white in her dress, not even the coif or veil which surrounds her pale face; her pose is humble, but at the same time it has something noble and commanding, even elegant: the picture of the saint who cannot altogether hide under her mourning and sackcloth the dignity of the lady of high degree.

It was this last Doña Magdalena in her humility and mourning that D. John received in his arms when she alighted from her litter, at the old palace in the square of Santiago. Without a word she pressed him for a long while to her heart, and then made the sign of the Cross on his forehead, as she always did in old times to Jeromín when he got up and when he went to bed. D. John seized the generous hand, and kissed it again and again, at which those present were much affected, not only the faithful servants from Villagarcia, who had come with Doña Magdalena, but all D. John's household, who had gone to receive her as if she really were his mother.

For some time Doña Magdalena had known that envy was making unworthy murmurings against D. John, and with all a mother's solicitude and fear she had told him of this. D. John's answer to this letter from Doña Magdalena is the only one that remains of this interesting correspondence; it breathes the lad's noble confidence and his absolute faith in the justice of the King, and the tranquillity of his conscience. After several arguments which prove this, he adds, "You tell me, making me very great, to be careful what I do, as all eyes are fixed on me, and that I should not be too gay, but rather avoid all occasions which might be harmful. Again I kiss your hands for what you are doing for me, and I beg you not to tire in so doing. To this, Lady, I reply with the simple truth of which I am such a friend; I give endless thanks to Our Lord that since the loss of my uncle and father I have always tried to live though absent from one who was always so good to me as he would wish me to live, and thus I think that I have not ruled myself so badly or done so little, that in this respect anyone can affirm the contrary. However much I should wish to wear smart clothes, the work of a nine months' campaign would not afford me much opportunity to do so; moreover, Lady, all times and conditions are not the same, and I see that sensible people, who are not fools, change as they get older; if there are others in the world who, in order to speak ill, fall on anybody, it does not alarm me, whatever they may murmur or say, and as you write that this has come to such a pitch that you did not even dare to ask news about me; however, as far as that goes, saints are not free from the vexations of the world, but I will try to do my utmost to behave as you think best, whose good advice I pray that I may always enjoy, because there is no one I wish or ought to please like her to whom I owe my up-bringing and my present position; this I shall remember even in my grave. I pray you to forgive such a long discourse, as the inventions of the times are enough to make a man do what he least intended, and let me know if those of the Lady Abbess[11] are such as to disturb greatly your peace of mind."

These murmurs wounded Doña Magdalena more than if they had been directed against herself, and her wish to defend D. John and warn and advise him, were the principal reasons for her coming to Madrid; because it seemed to her that all this would be easier in her leisurely visit than to await a passing one from him, which would of necessity be hurried and agitated. D. John quieted Doña Magdalena, opening out his heart to her. These rumours, according to him, came from the Marqués de los Vélez and the Marqués de Mondejar, whose vanity was wounded, especially the former's, by D. John's victory over the Moors, which they had not been able to effect with more time, money and means of action. But these murmurs had had no influence on the King, so D. John declared. He showed himself a most loving brother, giving such positive proofs of his confidence in D. John by appointing him General of the Fleet, and of his paternal solicitude by counsels and instructions, so that even two days before he had given a big sheet, corrected by his own hand, in which was set forth the addresses and formulas to be used in D. John's correspondence with every sort of person, from the Pope and Kings to the humblest Councillor or Prior of the Orders. Then Doña Magdalena asked whether to the names of Mondejar and los Vélez should not be added another, not so illustrious, but at the same time more powerful, Antonio Pérez.

D. John strongly repudiated the suspicion. Antonio Pérez had always been one of his warmest friends. So Doña Magdalena did not insist further, as she had spoken more by instinct than having certain proof. She, however, permitted herself to repeat smilingly an Italian proverb, which Luis Quijada was always quoting, about the honeyed snares and deceptions of the Court, "Chi non sa fingersi amico non sa essere inimico." Which impressed D. John, coming from her, although, unfortunately, not as the instinctive cry of alarm should have done, no doubt an inspiration from Heaven. Then D. John talked of another person, who was at that time a thorn in his side, his mother Barbara Blombergh. Away in Flanders, where she lived, the frivolity and want of decorum of this lady's life had begun to displease the great Duque de Alba, the Governor of those States, and he was contemplating taking some violent measures, as she seemed not to listen to prudent counsels, and the solution D. John wished was to move her to Spain, for Doña Magdalena to receive her and constitute herself Barbara's guardian angel.

It grieved Doña Magdalena to see him so sad, and she promised, and, as we shall see later, performed all he asked; and to distract his attention from such bitter thoughts, she showed him with glee the rich neckties and fine shirts she had brought him as a present, because one of Doña Magdalena's attentions to D. John was that he never wore any linen that was not sewn by her own hands. She was always at work, and then sent him large parcels, carefully packed, wherever he happened to be.

Doña Magdalena's faithful servants came to pay their respects to D. John, whom they had known as a little boy at Villagarcia. The old accountant Luis de Valverde, the two squires Juan Galarza and Diego Ruiz, and the first duenna of honour Doña Petronilla de Alderete, all came; the other duenna Doña Elizabeth de Alderete was left behind at Villagarcia to look after Doña Ana of Austria; the duenna came in very much overcome, and knelt down before D. John to kiss his hand; but he, touched and smiling and always full of fun, lifted the frail old woman in the air like a feather, and clasped her in his arms, and, seeing Jeromín, she dared just to press the smooth, noble forehead of the future conqueror of Lepanto with her lips. What joy for her this embrace of her beloved Jeromín, and what an honour and glory to have kissed the forehead of this august prince, for whom she—she and nobody else—had sewn and tried on his first breeches!

The satisfaction lasted the good woman to the end of her days, and in her will, made three years later at Villagarcia, she left D. John her savings, 320 ducats, to redeem captives of Lepanto, who were to give honour to D. John and to pray for her soul.

D. John started from Madrid to embark at Barcelona on Wednesday, the 6th of June, 1571, at three o'clock in the afternoon. He was accompanied only by his Master of the Horse D. Luis de Córdoba, his gentleman D. Juan de Gúzman, the secretary Juan de Soto, the valet Jorge de Lima, a caterer, a cook, two D. Juanillos or fools, two couriers, a guide and three servants, in all fifteen horses. The rest of his following and servants had been divided into two parties, one which went on ahead with his Lord Steward the Conde de Priego, and the other which followed under the chamberlain D. Rodrigo de Benavides. D. John had arranged this in order to set out more quietly, and to avoid the manifestations of the love and enthusiasm of the people of Madrid, which he well knew not to be to the taste of certain personages. His precaution, however, was useless, because the people got wind of his departure, and from the morning waited in the little square of Santiago, watching for his coming, and when he got to the gate of Guadalajara, the crowd was so great, that it overflowed into the country and extended all along the side of the road.

The magnificent Roman gate called Guadalajara still existed then, its strong blocks of rock united by an enormous arch with railings and balustrades of the same golden stone. Above this archway, and standing out bravely between two towers, was the beautiful chapel with two altars, one to venerate the figure of Our Lady, called la Mayor, the other that of a Guardian Angel, with a naked sword in his right hand and a model of Madrid in his left. All travellers used to pray there, and following the usual custom, D. John alighted and mounted to the chapel; and he appeared afterwards at the railing to bow to the people, who were acclaiming him, and such were the cries of blessing, good-byes and hurrahs, that, according to a writer of the time, "it resounded more than was necessary in some crooked ears."

D. John slept that night at Guadalajara, in the country house of the Duque del Infantado, who was waiting there for D. John, with his two brothers D. Rodrigo and D. Diego de Mendoza, his brother-in-law the Duque de Medina de Rioseco, and the Conde de Orgaz, all most intimate friends of D. John. He spent Thursday there, and on Friday, after dinner, continued his journey, with more haste and courage, says Vander Hammen, than pleased those who followed him. D. John truly journeyed with a light heart, and the