The Fate Of A Reckless Prince


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

prov
d 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.






THE ROYAL PALACE. MADRID.





At the hour of eleven that night the king came down-stairs, wearing armor

on his body and a helmet on his head. With him were the Duke of Feria,

captain of the guard, several other lords, and twelve guardsmen. They

quietly entered the chamber of the prince, and the duke, stealing to the

bedside, secured the sword, dagger, and musket which lay there.



The noise now wakened Carlos, who sprang up, demanding who was there.



"It is the council of state," answered the duke.



On hearing this the prince leaped from the bed, uttering threats and

imprecations, and endeavored to seize his arms. Philip, who had prudently

kept in the background until the weapons were secured, now advanced and

bade his son to return to bed and keep quiet.



"What does your majesty want of me?" demanded the prince.



"You will soon learn," Philip harshly replied.



He then gave orders that the windows and doors of the room should be

strongly secured and the keys brought to him. Every article of furniture,

even the andirons, with which violence might have been done, was removed

from the room. The king then appointed Feria keeper of the prince, and

bade the other nobles to serve him, with due respect, saying that he would

hold them as traitors if they permitted him to escape.



"Your majesty had better kill me than keep me a prisoner," exclaimed

Carlos. "It will be a great scandal to the kingdom. If you do not kill me

I will kill myself."



"You will do no such thing," answered Philip. "That would be the act of a

madman."



"Your majesty," replied the prince, "treats me so ill that you drive me to

this extremity. I am not mad, but you drive me to despair."



Other words passed, and on the withdrawal of the king the voice of Carlos

was so broken by sobs that his words could scarcely be heard. That night

the Duke of Feria and two other lords remained in the prince's room,--now

his prison. Each succeeding night two of the six appointed lords performed

this duty. They were not allowed to wear their swords in the presence of

the prince, but his meat was cut up before serving, as no knife was

permitted to be used at his meals. A guard was stationed in the passage

without, and, as the prince could not look from his barricaded windows, he

was from that day dead to the world.



The king immediately summoned his council of state and began a process

against the prisoner. Though making a show of deep affliction, he was

present at all the meetings and listened to all the testimony, which, when

written out, formed a heap of paper half a foot thick.



The news of the arrest of Don Carlos made a great sensation in Spain. The

wildest rumors were set afloat. Some said that he had tried to kill his

father, others that he was plotting rebellion. Many laid all the blame on

the king. "Others, more prudent than their neighbors, laid their fingers

on their lips and were silent." The affair created almost as much

sensation throughout Europe as in Spain. Philip, in his despatches to

other courts, spoke in such vague and mysterious language that it was

impossible to tell what he meant, and the most varied surmises were

advanced.



Meanwhile, Carlos was kept rigorously confined, so much so that he was not

left alone day or night. Of the two nobles in his chamber at night, one

was required to keep awake while the other slept. They were permitted to

talk with him, but not on political matters nor on the subject of his

imprisonment. They were ordered to bring him no messages from without nor

receive any from him. No books except devotional ones were allowed him.



If it was the purpose of Philip to end the life of his son by other means

than execution he could not have taken better measures. For a young man of

his high spirit and fiery temper such strict confinement was maddening. At

first he was thrown into a frenzy, and tried more than once to make way

with himself. The sullenness of despair succeeded. He grew daily more

emaciated, and the malarial fever which had so long affected him now

returned in a severe degree. To allay the heat of the fever he would

deluge the floor of his chamber with water, and walk for hours with bare

feet on the cold floor. He had a warming-pan filled with ice and snow

brought him, and kept it for hours at night in his bed. He would drink

snow-water in immoderate draughts. In his eating he seemed anxious to

break down his strength,--now refusing all food for days together, now

devouring a pasty of four partridges at a sitting, washing it down with

three gallons or more of iced water.



That he was permitted to indulge in such caprices seems to indicate that

Philip wished him to kill himself. No constitution, certainly not so weak

a one as that of Carlos, could long withstand these excesses. His stomach

refused to perform its duty; severe vomiting attacked him; dysentery set

in; his strength rapidly failed. The expected end came on the 24th of

July, six months after the date of his imprisonment, death releasing the

prince from the misery of his unhappy lot. One writer tells us that it was

hastened by a strong purgative dose, administered by his father's orders,

and that he was really assassinated. However that be, Philip had little

reason to be sorry at the death of his lunatic son. To one of his austere

temperament it was probably an easy solution of a difficult problem.



Less than three months passed after the death of Carlos when Isabella

followed him to the grave. She was then but twenty-three years old,--about

the same age as himself. The story was soon set afloat that Philip had

murdered both his son and his wife, moved thereto by jealousy; and from

this has arisen the romantic story of secret love between the two, with

the novels and dramas based thereon. In all probability the story is

without foundation. Philip is said to have been warmly loved by his wife,

and the poison which carried her away seems to have been the heavy doses

of medicine with which the doctors of that day sought to cure a passing

illness.



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