The Story of Don John of Austria by Luis Coloma (ereader manga .txt) 📗

"Mother Elizabeth and two of the oldest nuns told her that if she went on in this way, they knew that the holy foundation would take them away and put them where they could keep their rules, of more importance in her eyes than all the Grandees in the world. Annoyed by this, she took her servants and went to a hermitage in the orchard, and remained there, having nothing to do with the nuns. They sent her, however, the novices to wait on her, they not being yet so bound by the rules of the cloister.

"From there a door opened into the street, by which she admitted everyone, modifying thereby the grief for her husband's death. Because of all this the work of the church and convent stopped and the alms which Ruy Gómez had left for its support, so that it began to suffer great straits."

But as all this lasted too long, and since the Princess would not give in and the troubles went on, so that all peace and quiet were at an end, and the "dovecot of the Virgin," as St. Theresa called it, was turned into a nest of intrigues and gossip, the saint wrote to the Prioress that she and all the nuns were to leave Pastrana and go to the convent in Segovia. This, however, was not necessary, as the superiors of the Order went to the King, and, acting with him, obliged the Princess to leave the convent. She then retired to her country house at Pastrana, and from there carried on such a campaign against the nuns and persecuted them so cruelly that Theresa, weary of it, ordered the Prioress to leave the convent with all the nuns, taking nothing with them that had been given by the Princess. "The beds," says the saint in her "Book of Foundations," "and the little things that the nuns themselves had brought, they took away with them, leaving the village people very sad. I saw them in peace with the greatest joy, because I was well informed that the displeasure of the Princess was no fault of theirs, rather they waited on her as before she wore the habit."

The Princess then sought for a Franciscan community to establish in the empty convent, and she helped and made much of them as she had never done before to the others. She took care that this should reach the ears of St. Theresa, her small, vindictive nature thinking that human jealousies could have a place in that heart which was protected by divine love. In the midst of this wretched strife the grief of the Princess had lessened, and in 1575 she already thought of returning to Madrid, so her father the Prince de Mélito wrote to the King's secretary Mateo Vázguez, that he might inform Philip and gain his support in her lawsuits. According to his custom, the King answered on the margin of Mateo Vázguez's letter, in these very severe words: "Here is the paper, which I have seen, and by the prudence, which I have exercised all my life, of not mixing myself in the affairs of these persons, it will be well to do what is said here; and the more as I do not know if for these affairs and lawsuits the coming (of the Princess) is necessary, but I am certain that for their conscience and peace, and, who knows, their honour, it is best that she should not come here; and even for keeping the friendship of her father and mother, as she herself says, that when absent they are friends, but cannot be so when they are together. And Ruy Gómez often told me, and well I know that it was much against his will that she should come here as a widow, and that he would be sorry if he knew that she did it; and it is not reasonable that I should order a thing I know to have been so certainly against his wishes. And, moreover, I do not know if this would suit all of us of the Court, especially those who cannot leave it. Thus, although I should have to mix in such matters, I will not in this one, particularly as I have long since determined not to do so. Otherwise I should be pleased to favour Ruy Gómez's relations, as his services deserve. This for yourself, as it cannot be said to others. And you must see how you can answer Mélito, excusing me from interfering about his daughter's coming."

The precise date of the Princess de Évoli's arrival in Madrid is not known; we think that she came for short and frequent visits in 1575 and settled there the next year. She would then realise that it was not the same thing to be the widow as the wife of Ruy Gómez, and many rude awakenings soured her proud spirit. The secretary Antonio Pérez began to frequent her house at this time, and these two monsters of vanity were attracted by, and suited to, each other. He, a political puppet, sought from her the prestige that intimacy with such a great and high-born lady as the Princess could give him, for, in spite of all his grandeur and luxury and power, then at its height, he never could forget his base and lowly origin. She, on her part, sought in him what she had lost by the death of Ruy Gómez, a share of power and influence, easier to manage from the hands of the unworthy Antonio Pérez than from those of the level-headed Prince de Évoli: "I can do more than ever," said the Princess proudly a little later to one of her correspondents.

The lady was at this time thirty-six, and in spite of the superlative praise of her beauty that Antonio Pérez gives in his "Relaciones," it was not then extraordinary, nor ever could have been so. None of her contemporaries mention it, and the only authentic portrait known of her represents her as a nice-looking girl, dreadfully disfigured by a black patch which covered her blind eye, and specially noticeable from the whiteness of her skin and the blackness of her hair. Antonio Pérez was forty-two, and was, according to Luis Cabrera de Córdoba, "a good-looking man, with a handsome, manly face, over sumptuously and curiously dressed, perfumed, and pompous in his house." The inevitable happened: the sudden intimacy of two people, so well known, after years of slight acquaintance, caused them to be talked about, and the frequency and familiarity of the visits at unsuitable hours, and, above all, the endless exchange of presents, until mine and thine hardly existed between them, let loose among all the Court that gossip which previously had only been timidly circulated, as the Marqúes de Fabara had whispered to D. John. Then, in the presence of Antonio Pérez, she committed the treacherous act of a plotting woman; she called her children and told them not to be astonished at his visits or the affection he showed for them, because he was the son of Ruy Gómez and therefore their brother.

At this historical moment Escovedo arrived from Flanders (July, 1577), sent by D. John to Madrid to represent to Philip how cut off he was, and the grave risks that these States and his own person ran. Escovedo had not forgotten, among his many preoccupations, the adventure at the Chorrillos, that D. John had told him of to moderate his zeal for the Princess de Évoli, and one of his first cares on reaching Madrid was to inform himself of the state of the case. At once he found that the fact was true, the scandal public, and the honoured memory of Ruy Gómez degraded by the lightness of the widow and the horrible ingratitude of Antonio Pérez, who owed everything to this great patrician. Loyal Escovedo was greatly distressed, and wishing to retrieve the honour of his dead benefactor and friend went to the house of the Princess, intending to warn and counsel her with all the regard he had for her. She was in the saloon with Doña Brianda de Gúzman; he waited patiently until this lady had left, and then spoke, not with his usual brusqueness, but with deep and affectionate concern, of the dreadful rumours that were going about, and said that she must close her door to Antonio Pérez in order not to give support to them. Blind with rage on hearing him, the Princess rose, and in an unsteady voice answered that "it did not concern squires what great ladies did." And with this she turned and went to the further end of the room. All of which is told by Doña Catalina de Herrera, duenna to the Princess.

During this time the diabolical craftiness of Antonio Pérez had again stirred into a flame Philip's slumbering suspicions of his brother. Absolute master of the King's confidence, and also master of that which he had treacherously obtained by pretending to favour the interests of D. John and Escovedo, it was easy for this past master of perfidy and intrigue to tangle the skein. The unfortunate troubles in Flanders had put an end to the English scheme; and Philip's tenacity in following the policy of peace when only that of war was possible helped Antonio Pérez very much. D. John and Escovedo often wrote to him, as faithful friends pursuing the same end, telling him of their plans and their fears, grumbling to him, and begging for his powerful support with the King. For his part Antonio Pérez took the echo of all this to D. Philip, but not as it was, sincere and frank, always loyal and noble, if sometimes violent, but changed in its meaning, exaggerated, its text even altered when deciphered by Fernando de Escobar, a creature of Antonio Pérez. He answered them, in agreement with Philip, trying to maintain their confidence, and his hypocrisy went the length of letting disrespectful words against the Monarch slip into his letters, in the hope that seeing these they would imitate his example, which he never succeeded in making them do.

Sending one of these insidious letters for D. John to the deceived Sovereign for his approval, Antonio Pérez wrote:

"Sir, It is necessary to hear and write in this manner for your service, because thus they fall into the net, and one is better able to judge what course to take on behalf of your Majesty. And I would ask your Majesty to be careful not to be overlooked when reading these documents, as if my artifice were discovered, I could not serve you, and should have to give up the game. For the rest, I very well know, that for my conscience and duty I am acting as I ought in this matter, and I have need of no more casuistry than I possess to know it."

The King answered Pérez on the margin of the letter: "Believe me, I am very discreet, and my casuistry agrees with yours; and not only are you doing your duty, but you would fail in doing it towards God and everyone if you acted differently, in order that I may be well enlightened of all that is necessary according to the twists and turns of the world and its affairs, which certainly frighten me."

Thus deceiving Philip II and betraying and calumniating D. John and Escovedo, Antonio Pérez made the false and subtle plot by which the hero of Lepanto lost his credit with the King, and honest Escovedo his life by a treacherous sword-thrust. Pérez, in his "Memorial," shows the threads of the plot, whose falseness Philip II found out later, and which modern history has proved by many authentic documents. That D. John had disobeyed the King by refusing to dismantle Tunis, the better to raise himself in that kingdom; that behind the King's back he had sought protection from Rome; that he put the English expedition before all the King's interests; that he exaggerated the state of affairs in Flanders, in order to get aid from Spain to use in the said expedition; that, once master of England, he contemplated invading Spain at Santander, making over the castle of Mogro to Escovedo, who had solicited its lieutenancy; that the hope of the English expedition over, he thought of going to the help of the King of France at the head of the Spanish troops; that his wish to return to Spain was only to obtain a canopy and take possession of the government; that behind the King's back he had made a league with the Guise Princes, called the "Defence of the two Crowns," going back to the idea of invading England.

All these absurd, senseless plans Antonio Pérez did not attribute entirely to D. John. As formerly he represented Juan de Soto, so now he held up Escovedo as the instigator and principal agent, and D. John as a weak prince, who,