The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1576-77 | Page 2

this seemed a sufficiently liberal scheme
of life for the widow of a commissary. Moreover, a very ample
allowance had been made for the education of her only legitimate son,
Conrad, the other having perished by an accident on the day of his
father's death. While Don John of Austria was, gathering laurels in
Granada, his half-brother, Pyramus junior, had been ingloriously
drowned in a cistern at Ghent.
Barbara's expenses were exorbitant; her way of life scandalous. To
send her money, said Alva, was to throw it into the sea. In two days she
would have spent in dissipation and feasting any sums which the King
might choose to supply. The Duke, who feared nothing else in the
world, stood in mortal awe of the widow Kegell. "A terrible animal,
indeed, is an unbridled woman," wrote secretary Gayas, from Madrid,
at the close of Alva's administration for, notwithstanding every effort to
entice, to intimidate, and to kidnap her from the Netherlands, there she
remained, through all vicissitudes, even till the arrival of Don John. By
his persuasions or commands she was, at last, induced to accept an
exile for the remainder of her days, in Spain, but revenged herself by
asserting. that he was quite mistaken: in supposing himself the
Emperor's child; a point, certainly, upon which her, authority might be
thought conclusive. Thus there was a double mystery about Don John.
He might be the issue of august parentage on one side; he was; possibly,
sprung of most ignoble blood. Base-born at best, he was not sure
whether to look for the author of his being in the halls of the Caesara or
the booths of Ratisbon mechanics.
[Cabrera, xii. 1009. An absurd rumor had existed that Barbara
Blomberg had only been employed to personate Don John's mother.
She died at an estate called Arronjo de Molinos, four leagues from
Madrid, some years after the death of Don John.]
Whatever might be the heart of the mystery, it is certain that it was
allowed to enwrap all the early life of Don John. The Emperor, who
certainly never doubted his responsibility for the infant's existence, had
him conveyed instantly to Spain, where he was delivered to Louis
Quixada, of the Imperial household, by whom he was brought up in
great retirement at Villa-garcia. Magdalen Ulloa, wife of Quixada,

watched over his infancy with maternal and magnanimous care, for her
husband's extreme solicitude for the infant's welfare had convinced her
that he was its father. On one occasion, when their house was in flames,
Quixada rescued the infant before he saved his wife, "although
Magdalen knew herself to be dearer to him than the apple of his eye."
From that time forth she altered her opinion, and believed the
mysterious child to be of lofty origin. The boy grew up full of beauty,
grace, and agility, the leader of all his companions in every hardy sport.
Through the country round there were none who could throw the
javelin, break a lance, or ride at the ring like little Juan Quixada. In
taming unmanageable horses he was celebrated for his audacity and
skill. These accomplishments, however, were likely to prove of but
slender advantage in the ecclesiastical profession, to which he had been
destined by his Imperial father. The death of Charles occurred before
clerical studies had been commenced, and Philip, to whom the secret
had been confided at the close of the Emperor's life, prolonged the
delay thus interposed. Juan had already reached his fourteenth year,
when one day his supposed father Quixada invited him to ride towards
Valladolid to see the royal hunt. Two horses stood at the door--a
splendidly caparisoned charger and a common hackney. The boy
naturally mounted the humbler steed, and they set forth for the
mountains of Toro, but on hearing the bugles of the approaching
huntsmen, Quixada suddenly halted, and bade his youthful companion
exchange horses with himself. When this had been done, he seized the
hand of the wondering boy and kissing it respectfully, exclaimed,
"Your Highness will be informed as to the meaning of my conduct by
his Majesty, who is even now approaching." They had proceeded but a
short distance before they encountered the royal hunting party, when
both Quixada and young Juan dismounted, and bent the knee to their
monarch. Philip, commanding the boy to rise, asked him if he knew his
father's name. Juan replied, with a sigh, that he had at that moment lost
the only father whom he had known, for Quixada had just disowned
him. "You have the same father as myself," cried the King; "the
Emperor Charles was the august parent of us both." Then tenderly
embracing him, he commanded him to remount his horse, and all
returned together to Valladolid, Philip observing with a sentimentality