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‘She thought she had gained much on herself in forcing her way out of this Conversation without answering so favourably as her Heart could have wisht; but Love is a Seducer, which must not be in any sort hearkened to, if one will not be totally overcome by him. From that day Don Lewis began to think himself Happy, though he wanted many things to compleat his Felicity. The Marchioness, in effect, had a Principle of Vertue which opposed itself always with Success to the desires of her Lover.

‘He had no longer those Scruples of Friendship for the Marquess de Barbaran which had so greatly disturbed his Mind; Love had perfectly banisht Friendship; nay, he even secretly hated him.

‘In fine, Don Lewis flattering himself, that perhaps he might find a favourable moment to affect the Marchioness’s Heart with some Pity; he carefully sought it; and to find it, one day when ’twas very hot, knowing that the Marchioness was wont to retire to Repose herself after Dinner, as it is customary in that Country, he came to her, doubting not but every body was asleep in the House.

‘She was in a Ground-Room which lookt into the Garden; all was fast and shut close, save a little Window, whereby he saw on her Bed this charming Creature: She was in a profound Sleep, half undrest; he had the time to discover such Beauties as still augmented the force of his Passion. He approacht so softly to her, that she did not awake: It was already some moments that he had lookt on her with all the Transports of a Man amazed, when seeing her naked Breasts, he could not forbear kissing them. She arose on a sudden; she had not her Eyes open; the Chamber was dark, and she could never have believ’d Don Lewis could have been so bold. I have already told you, Madam, that he resembled the Marquess de Barbaran; She did not doubt then but it was he, and calling him several times, “her dear Marquess and Husband,” she tenderly embrac’d him. He well knew his Error; whatever Pleasure it procured him, he could have wished to have ow’d this only to his Mistress’s Favours. But, O Heavens, how unfortunately it hapned! The Marquess came in this dangerous moment; and ’twas not without the greatest fury he saw the Liberty Don Lewis took with his Wife. At the noise he had made in entring, she had turn’d her Eyes towards the Door, and seeing her Husband enter, whom she thought she had already in her arms, it is impossible to represent her Affliction and Astonishment.

‘Don Lewis amaz’d at this Accident, flatter’d himself, that perhaps he was not known: He past immediately into the Gallery, and finding a Window was opened into the Garden, he threw himself out of it, and immediately past through a Back-door. The Marquess pursued him, without being able to overtake him: In returning the same way he came, he unhappily found the Marchioness’s Picture, which Don Lewis had dropt as he ran; he immediately made most cruel Reflections hereupon: This Picture of his Wife, which Don Lewis had let fall, and the sight of her embracing him, all this made him no longer doubt of his Wives Falshood: “I am betray’d,” Cry’d he, “by her whom I loved dearer than my own Life: Was there ever a more Unhappy Man in the World?” In ending these Words, he returned to his Wives Chamber. She immediately threw herself at his Feet, and melting into Tears, would have justify’d herself, and make known to him her Innocency; but the Spirit of Jealousie had so fully possest him, that he violently represt her: He harkned only to the Transports of his Rage and Despair, and turning away his Eyes, that he might not see so lovely an Object, he had the Barbarity to strike his Dagger into the Breast of the most Beautiful and most Vertuous Woman in the World. She offered herself to be slaughtered as an innocent Sacrifice, and her Soul issued out in a stream of Blood.

“O God,” cryed I, “O Imprudent Don Lewis! Why did you leave this Charming Lady to the Fury of an Amorous Husband, transported with Jealousie! You might have snatch’d her out of his cruel Hands.” “Alas, Madam,” replied this Gentleman, “he know not what he did; for what would he have done at another time to have prevented such a Misfortune.”

‘As soon as the unfortunate Marchioness had rendred her last Breath, her cruel Executioner shut her Apartment, took all the Money and Jewels he had, mounted on Horse-back, and fled with all the speed he could. Don Lewis restless, and more Amorous than ever, returned thither in the Evening, notwithstanding whatever might befal him: He was surpriz’d when he was told the Marchioness was still asleep; he immediately went into the Garden, and entred into the Gallery, through the same Window which he had found open, and from thence came into the Chamber: Twas so dark, that he was fain to walk warily; when he felt something which had like to have made him fall, he stooped down, and found it was a dead Body; he uttered a great Shriek, and doubting not but it was that of his dear Mistress, he sunk down with Grief: Some of the Marchioness’s Women walking under the Windows of her Apartment, heard Don Lewis’s Crys; they easily got up through the same Window, and entred the Room. What a sad Spectacle, what a lamentable sight was this? I cannot find Words to denote to you the Horror of this Spectacle. Don Lewis was no sooner come to himself, by the force of Remedies, but his Grief, Rage and Despair, broke out with such Violence, that it was impossible to calm him; and I am perswaded he had not out-lived her whose loss he occasioned, if the desire of Vengeance had not re-animated him.

‘He parted like one furious in search of the Marquess de Barbaran; He sought him every-where without hearing any news of him; He ran over Italy, traverst Germany, came into Flanders, and past into France. He was told that the Marquess was at Valentia in Spain; he came there, and met not with him. In fine, three Years being past, without finding the means of sacrificing his Enemy to his Mistress’s Ghost, Divine Grace, which is irresistible, and particularly on great Souls, toucht his so efficatiously, that he immediately changed his Desire of Revenge into serious Desires of leaving the World, and minding only the fitting himself for another Life.

‘Being fill’d with this Spirit he return’d into Sardagnia: He sold all his Estate, which he distributed among some of his Friends, who with great Merit were yet very poor; and by this means became so poor himself, that he reduced himself to the begging of Alms.

‘He had heretofore seen, in going to Madrid, a place very fit to make an Hermitage, (it is towards Mount Dragon;) this Mountain is almost inaccessible, and you cannot pass to it but through an Overture, which is in the midst of a great Rock; it is stopt up when the Snow falls, and the Hermitage lies buried more than six Months under it. Don Lewis made one be built here, where he was wont to pass whole Years without seeing any one. He made such Provisions as were necessary, having good Books, and thus remain’d in this dismal Solitude; but this Year his Friends forced him hither, by reason of a great Sickness, which had like to have cost him his Life. It is four Years since he has led this Holy Spiritual Life, and so different from that to which he was born, that it is with great trouble he sees any of his Acquaintance.

‘As to the Marquess de Barbaran, he has wholly left the Isle of Sardagnia, where he has not the Liberty to return. I am inform’d he is married again at Anvers, to a Widow of a Spaniard named Fonceca.

‘And it is he himself that has related to one of my Friends the Particularities of his Crime; and he is so furiously tortured with the remembrance of it, that he imagines he continually sees his Wife dying, and reproaching him with his Fury and Jealousie. In a word, he has contracted such a deep Malancholly, that his Death is thought by every one to be near, or at the least, the loss of his Sences.’

The Gentleman here was silent; and I not being able to forbear weeping at so Tragical a Relation, Don Fernand de Toledo, who had observ’d it, and would not take notice of it, for fear of interrupting the Relation, rally’d me about my Tenderness, telling me how well he was pleased to find me so Compassionate, and that I should not be long before I met with Objects fit to exercise it on. I did not so much mind the returning an answer to him, as the Thanking this Gentleman, who was pleas’d to entertain me with the Recital of so extraordinary an Adventure: I intreated him to make my Compliments to Don Lewis, and to give him from me two Pistols, seeing he lived on Alms. Don Fernand, and each of the Cavaliers, gave as much: ‘Here is,’ said the Gentleman to us, ‘wherewith to enrich the Poor of Victoria; for Don Lewis appropriates not such great Charities as these to himself.’ We told him, he was the Master, and might dispose of the Money as he pleased. But to return to my Adventures:

Although I had a Pasport from the King of Spain, the best specified, and most general, as is possible, yet I was oblig’d to take a Billet from the Toll-House; for without this Precaution, all my Cloaths had been confiscated: ‘To what purpose then is my Pasport?’ said I to them. ‘To none at all,’ replied they. The Surveyors and Officers of the Customs would not so much as cast their Eyes on it; they told me, The King must come and assure them, that this Order was from him. It is to no purpose for any one to alledge his being a Stranger, and ignorant of the Usages of the Country: For they drily answer, ‘That the Stranger’s Ignorance makes the Spaniard’s Profit.’ The ill Weather has kept me here two Days, during which I saw the Governness, and the Play. The principal Place of this Town is adorn’d with a very fair Fountain standing in the midst: it is incircled with the Town-House, the Prison, two Convents, and several well-built Houses: Here is a New Town and an Old one; every body forsakes this latter to dwell in the other. Here are very rich Merchants; their chief Trade is at St. Sebastian or Bilbo; they send great store of Iron to Grenada, Estremadour, Galicia, and other Parts of the Kingdom. I observ’d, that the great Streets are set with fine Trees, which are watered with Streams running by them. From Mount St. Adrian hither, it is seven Leagues. In fine, I am just setting out, and must end this long Letter; it is late, and I have spoke to you so much of what I have seen, that I have said nothing of my Affections to you; Believe me, however, Dear Cousin, that I am, and ever shall be

Yours.

From Victoria,

Feb. 24, 1673.

Letter III

MY Letters are so long, that it is hard to believe when I finish them, that I have any thing else more to tell you; yet, my dear Cousin, I never close any, but there remains still sufficient for another: When I were onely to speak to you of my Friendship, this would be an inexhaustible Subject; you may make some Judgment of it from the Pleasure I find in obeying your Commands. You are desirous to know all the Particulars of my Voyage, I will therefore go on to relate them:

I set out very late from Victoria, by reason of my stay at the Governness’s, whom I before mention’d; and we went to lie at Miranda; the Country is very pleasant as far as Avigny; we came afterwards by a difficult Way to the Banks of the River Urola, whose Noise is the greater, in that ’tis full of Rocks, on which the Water dashes, beats up, and falls down, and forms natural Cascades in several places: We continu’d to ascend the high Mountains of the Pyrenees, where we ran a thousand several Dangers: we saw the ancient Ruines of an old Castle, where Ghosts and Spirits have their Apartments, as well as in that of Quebara, it is near Gargason; and being to stop there to shew my Pasport, because here certain Customs are paid to the King, I learnt from the Alcade of the Borough, who drew near my Litter to talk with me, that it is the common Report of the Country, That there were formerly a King and a Queen here, who had so fine and beautiful a Woman to their Daughter, that she was rather taken for a Goddess than a Mortal Creature: she was call’d Mira; and it is from her Name came the Mira of the Spaniards, which is to say, ‘Look you’; for as soon as ever she appear’d, all the People attentively beheld her, and cried out, ‘Mira, Mira’; and here’s the Etymology of a Word drawn far enough. This Princess was never seen by any Body who became not desperately in love with her; but her Disdainfulness and Indifference made all her Lovers pine away: The famous Basilisk never kill’d so many People as the Beautiful and Dreadful Mira; she thus depopulated her Father’s Kingdom, and all the Countries thereabouts were full of the deceased and dying Lovers. After they had in vain Addrest themselves to her, they lastly applied themselves to Heaven, to demand Vengeance on her Cruelty: The Gods at length grew Angry, and the Goddesses were not much behind them in the Exercise of this Passion: so that to punish her, the Scourges of Heaven finish’d the Destruction of her Father’s Kingdom: In this general Calamity he consulted the Oracle, which told him, ‘That all these Miseries would not have an end, till Maria had expiated the Mischiefs which her Eyes had done; and that she must be gone: That Destiny would conduct her to th’ place where she was to lose her repose and liberty.’ The Princess obey’d, believing it imposible for her to be touch’d with Tenderness: She carried only her Nurse with her; she was clad like a simple Shepherdess, lest she should be taken notice of, whether at Sea or Land. She ran over a great Part of the World, committing every day two or three Dozen of Murthers; for her Beauty was not diminisht by the Fatigue of her Travels: She arriv’d at length near this old Castle, which belong’d to a young Count, call’d Nios, endowed with a thousand Perfections, but extream Proud and Reserv’d: he spent his time in the Woods; as soon as ever he perceiv’d a Woman, he fled from her, and of all Things he saw in the World, she was his greatest Aversion. The beautiful Mira was resting herself one day under the shade of some Trees, when Nios past by, cloathed with a Lion’s Skin, a Bow at his Girdle, and a Mace on his Shoulder; his Hair was all clotted together, and his Face be-smear’d like a Chimney-Sweeper’s, (this Circumstance is observable) yet the Princess thought him the most handsome Man in the World; she ran after him as if she had been mad; and he ran from her as if he had been in the same condition: she lost the sight of him; she knew not where to find him: she is now in the greatest Sorrow, weeping Day and Night with her Nurse. Nios return’d to the Chase; she saw him again, and would have follow’d him: as soon as he perceiv’d her, he did as at first, and Mira betook herself again to her Lamentations; but her Passion giving her new strength, she out-ran him, stopt him, taking hold of his Locks, intreating him to look on her, thinking this was enough to engage him: He cast his Eyes on her with as much Indifference as if she had been an ordinary Person. Never Woman was more surpriz’d; she would not leave him; she came maugre him to his Castle: where, as soon as she had entred, he there left her, and was no more seen. The poor Mira, being not to be comforted, died with Grief: And from that time you hear deep Sighs and Groans which come from the Castle of Nios. The young Wenches of the Country are used to go there, and carry her little Presents of Fruits and Milk, which they set down at the Mouth of a Cave, where no body dare enter: they said, this was to comfort her; but this has been abolisht as superstitious. And though I believed not a word of whatever was told me at Garganson, in relation to Mira and Nios, yet I was pleas’d in the Recital of this Story, of which I omit a thousand Particulars, for fear of tiring you by its length. My Waiting-woman was so affected with this Relation, that she was for having us return back again, to set at the Mouth of the Cave some red Partridges, which my People had bought: she imagin’d the Princess’s Ghost would be mightily comforted in receiving this Testimony of our good Will; but for my part, I thought I should be more content than her, in having those Partridges for my Supper. We past the River of Urola, on a great Stone-Bridge, and having went over another, with difficulty enough, by reason of the melted Snow, we arriv’d at Miranda d’ Ebro; this is a great Village, or a little Town: here is a large place adorn’d with a Fountain; the River Ebro, which is one of the most considerable of Spain, traverses it: You see on the Top of a Mountain the Castle, with several Towers; it appears to be of some strength; and there issues out so great a Stream from a Rock on which it is built, that it turns several Mills: I could not observe any thing else worth writing to you.

The three Knights I spake of to you, were arriv’d before me, and giv’n all requisite Orders for Supper; so we eat together: And tho’ the Night appear’d well advanced, because the Days are short in this Season, yet ’twas not late; so that these Gentlemen, who shew’d me great Respect and Civility, askt me, How I would pass the time? I proposed to them the playing at Ombre, and that I would go Halves with Don Fernand de Toledo. They accepted the Offer: Don Fernand de Cardonne said, He had rather Converse with me than Play: so the three others began, and I for some time gave myself over to the looking on them, with great Pleasure, for their Way is quite different from ours: They never utter a word; I do not say, to complain, (for this would be unworthy the Spanish Gravity) but to demand a gano, or to cut higher, or to shew that one may take some other Advantage: In a word, they seem to be Statues, or Pieces of German Clockwork, never appearing transported with either good or bad Luck. Among other Discourse which I had with D. Fred. de Cardonne, he told me, There were two observable things in Catalonia, one of which is a Mountain of Salt, partly white as Snow, and the other part clearer and more transparent than Chrystal: that there is Blue, Green, Violet, Orange, and a thousand different Colours, which yet loses its tincture when wetted; it continually forms itself, and grows there: and though commonly the places where Salt is to be found, are so barren, that you see not so much as an Herb, yet there are here Pine-Trees of great height, and excellent Vineyards: When the Sun darts its Rays on this Mountain, it looks as if it wholly consisted of the most precious Stones in the World: but the best of it is, that it yields a good Revenue.

The other Particular he mentioned to me, was of a Fountain, whose Water is very good, and of the same Colour as Claret: ‘I have never heard any thing of this,’ said I to him, ‘but one of my Relations, who has been in Catalonia, has assured me there is a Fountain near Balut, whose Water is as others are for Colour, and yet whatever you put therein, appears like Gold.’ ‘I have seen it, Madam,’ continued Don Frederic; ‘and I remember a Man that was very covetous, and more foolish, went thither every Day to put therein his Silver, hoping in time ’twould be chang’d into Gold; but he was so far from enriching himself that he was ruin’d; for some Peasants, more subtle and crafty than he, having perceived what he did, stood watching a little lower, and the Stream of the Water would now and then bring some Pieces to them. If you return into France by Catalonia,’ added he, ‘you will see this Fountain,’ ‘It is not that which can draw me thither,’ reply’d I, ‘but the desire of passing by Montserat, wou’d make me undertake a longer Journey.’ ‘It is situated,’ said he, ‘near Barcelona, and is a place of great Devotion: It seems as if the Rock were sawed through the middle; the Church stands high, is small and obscure. By the help of the Fourscore and Ten Lamps of Silver, you perceive the Image of the Virgin, which looks very duskish, and is held for miraculous. The Altar cost Philip the Second thirty thousand Crowns; and here is every Day seen Pilgrims from all Parts of the World; this Holy Place abounds with Hermitages, inhabited by Persons of great Devotion: These are commonly Men of good Birth, who have not left the World till they have well tryed it, and who appear much taken with the Sweets of their Retirements, though the Place be dismal; and ’twould been impossible to have had access to it, had not a Passage been cut through the Rocks. Yet you find here several agreeable Objects, a curious Prospect, various Springs, Gardens well drest by these Religioses own hands, and every where a certain Air of Solitude and Devotion, which mightily affects those who come there. We have another famous place of Devotion,’ added he, ‘and that is Nuestra Senora del Pilar: it is at Saragossa, in a Chappel on a Pillar of Marble, where our Lady holds the Babe Jesus in her Arms. It is pretended, that the Virgin appeared on this same Pillar to St. James; and the Image is here worshipt with great Reverence. It cannot be well observ’d, because it stands so high, and in a very dark place; so that without the Flambeaux it could not be seen at all. Here are always Fifty Lamps burning; Gold and precious Stones shine here on all sides; and the Pilgrims come here in great Sholes. But yet,’ says he, ‘I may truly say, in favour of Saragossa that ’tis one of the finest Towns you shall see; it is situated along the Ebre, in a vast Field, is adorn’d with great Buildings, rich Churches, a stately Bridge, fine open Places, and the most charming Women in the World, who love French, and will omit nothing to oblige you to speak well of ’em, if you pass by there.’ I told him, I had already heard several things spoken of them to their commendation: ‘But,’ continu’d I, ‘this Country is very Barren, and the Souldiers can hardly subsist in it.’ ‘In effect,’ replied he, ‘whether the Air be bad, or that they want Necessaries, the Flemmings and Germans cannot live there; and if they do not die there, ’tis because they run away. The Spaniards and Neopolitans are more prone than they to desert; these last pass through France, to return into their Country; the others Coast the Pyrenees along Languedoc, and enter Castille by Navarre, or Biscaye. This is a Course which the old Souldiers fail not to steer; for the new-rais’d ones, they perish in Catalonia, being not accustomed thereto; and ’tis certain there’s no place where War is more troublesome to the King of Spain: He maintains his Forces here with great Charge, and the Advantage which the Enemy gains of him is not small; and I very well know they are more sensible at Madrid for the smallest Loss in Catalonia, than they would be for the greatest in Flanders, or Milan, or else-where. But at present,’ continues he, ‘we are going to be more at our Ease than we have been, being expected at Court, that the Peace will be lasting, because they talk much of a Marriage which will make a new Alliance; and the Marquess de Los Balbares, Plenipotentiary at Nimiguen, has receiv’d Orders to pass speedily to France, to demand of that King, Mademoiselle d’ Orleans; therefore it is not doubted but the Marriage will be concluded: But it is thought very strange, Don John of Austria should consent to this Marriage.’ ‘You will do me a singular Pleasure,’ said I, interrupting him, ‘if you would inform me of some Particularities touching this Prince: It is natural for to have a Curiosity in relation to Persons of this Character; and when a body comes into a Court where one was never before, that I may not appear a Novice, I should have some previous Notices.’ He answered me, It would be a great satisfaction to him, if he could relate any thing might please me; and he began thus:

‘You will not, perhaps, Madam, think it amiss, that I begin at the Original of Things, and tell you, That this Prince was Son of one of the finest Women in Spain, named Maria Calderona; she was a Player, and the Duke de Medina de las Torres became desperately in love with her: This Cavalier had so many Advantages above others, that Calderonna lov’d him no less than she was beloved by him. In the Heat of this Intrigue, Philip the Fourth saw her, and preferr’d her to one of the Queen’s Maids of Honour, and who was so griev’d at this Change of the King, whom she really loved, and had a Son by, that she retired from the World, and betook herself to Las del Calsas Reales, where she put on the Religio’s Habit. As for Calderonne, her inclination lying wholly towards the Duke de Medina, she would not hearken to the King, without the Duke would thereto consent: She spake to him of it, and offered to withdraw secretly where he would; but the Duke fearing to incur the King’s Displeasure, answer’d her, He was resolv’d to yield up to His Majesty a Treasure which he was not in a Capacity to contend for. She made him a thousand Reproaches for this; she call’d him Traytor to his Love, ingrateful towards his Mistress: And moreover, told him, That though he was so Happy as that he could dispose of his Heart as he pleased, yet she could not do the same; and therefore he must continue to visit her, or prepare to see her die with Despair. The Duke affected with so great a Passion, promised to feign a Journey to Andalousia, and to remain with her hid in a Closet: he effectually parted from the Court, and afterwards shut himself up (as it was agreed) whatever Risque he ran by so imprudent Conduct. The King, in the mean time, was very Amorous, and remain’d very well satisfi’d: She had, during this, Don John d’Austria, and the Resemblance he had with the Duke de Medina de Las Torres, had made it be thought that he was his Son; but tho’ the King had other Children, and particularly the Bishop of Malaga, good Fortune decided in his Favour, and he has been only acknowledg’d.

‘Don John’s Friends say, That ’twas by reason of the Exchange which had been made of the Son of Calderonna, for the Son of Queen Elizabeth; and here’s how they set forth this Change, which is a Story made on purpose to impose on the World, and which I believe has no ground of Truth: They pretend, the King being desperately in love with this Player, she became big with Child at the same time as the Queen; and seeing the King’s Passion was so greatly towards her, that she might expect any thing, she so ordered it, that she made him promise her, That if the Queen had a Son, and she likewise, he should put hers in his place: “What will you lose by this, Sir?” said she, “Will it not be your Son that will still Reign, only with this difference, that loving me, as you say you do, you will love him likewise the better.” She had Wit, and the King could deny her nothing; he consented, and in effect the Business was manag’d with that Address, that the Queen being brought to Bed of a Son, and Calderonna of another, the Exchange was made. He that should have Reign’d, and who bore the Name of Baltazar, died at the Age of fourteen Years: The King was told, ’twas with over-heating himself at Tennis; but the truth is, this Prince was suffered to keep bad Company, which procured for him his Misfortunes; it is said likewise, That Don Pedro d’Arragon, his Governour, and Chief Gentleman of his Chamber, more contributed to this than any other, suffering him to bring into his Apartment a Woman he lov’d; after this he was taken with a violent Fever, and conceal’d the Occasion: The Phisicians who were ignorant of it, thought to ease him by frequent Bleedings, which put an end to what strength he had; and by this means they ended his Life. The King knowing, but too late, what had hapn’d, banisht Don Pedro for not hindring this Excess, or for not having timely discover’d it.

‘In the mean time Don John of Austria, who was brought up as the Natural Son, chang’d not his Condition, though this ought to have been, had he been indeed the lawful Son; yet notwithstanding this, his Creatures affirm, He so exactly resembles Q. Elizabeth, that she needs no other Picture of her Likeness. And this Opinion fails not of gaining Belief with the People, who run violently after Novelties, and who so Passionately loved this great Queen, that they bewail her still as if she was but now deceas’d. It is true, that if Don John of Austria would make his Advantage of the favourable Dispositions of the People, he has met with several Opportunities of extending his Fortune very far; but his only Aim is to serve the King, and to keep his Subjects in those Sentiments of Fidelity they ought to have for him.

‘To return to Calderonna: The King surprized one day the Duke de Medina with her, and in the excess of his Rage, he ran to him with his Poynard in his Hand; he was about to kill him, when this Woman placed herself between, telling him, He might strike her if he would. Having the most extream Passion for her, he could not but Pardon him, contenting himself only with banishing him: But understanding she continu’d to love him, and write to him, he studied only how to get a new Passion; when he had one strong enough not to apprehend the Charms of Calderonna, he sent word to her to retire into a Monastery, as is customary when the King forsakes his Mistress. She put it not off, writing a Letter to the Duke, to bid him Adieu: And she receiv’d the Veil of a Religio from the Hand of the Apostolick Nuncio, who became since Innocent X. It is very likely the King believ’d Don John was his real Son, seeing he loved him so dearly: One thing will appear to you very singular, which is, that a King of Spain having Natural Sons owned by him, they never enter Madrid during his Life: So Don John was brought up at Ocanna, which is some Leagues distant from it. The King, his Father, came oft thither, and he made him come even to the Gates of the Town, where he went to meet him. This Custom comes from that the Grandees of Spain dispute the Rank which these Princes would hold. Don John, before he went into Catalonia, remain’d commonly at Buen Retiro, which is a Royal Seat, at one of the farthest parts of Madrid, a little without the Gate: And he shew’d himself so little, that he was never seen at any Publick Feast during the Life of the late King: but since, Times have chang’d, and his Fortunes stand on a different bottom.