The Story of Seville

With the death of Alfonso XI., we come to the days of his son, Pedro I., the most renowned of all the Christian sovereigns who made court at the capital of Andalusia. The reign of Pedro el Cruel abounds with so much 'incident' from the story-teller's point of view, that many tales, ballads and plays of Spain are concerned with the exploits of this remarkable King. In some of the narratives he is portrayed as a veritable monster of cruelty and perfidy; in others he is represented as a severe, but just, monarch, with sympathy for the lower classes. Pedro was sixteen when he came to the throne. Fearing an attempt on the part of Enrique (son of Alfonso XI. by his mistress, Leonora de Guzman) to seize the crown, Pedro contrived to lure Leonora to Seville, and to imprison her in the Alcázar. From this dungeon the wretched woman was sent to other prisons, until she was done to death. There was no limit to Pedro's ferocity when his malignity was aroused. His deeds suggest an insane lust for bloodshed, and a delight in the infliction of suffering. He killed with his own hand, or by the aid of bravoes, all relatives, rivals and dangerous persons who came within his power. His first wife was Blanche of Bourbon, niece of King John of France; but he deserted her in two days, to return to his mistress, the lovely Maria de Padilla. When Pedro's fancy fell upon the handsome Juana de Castro, he declared that his union with Blanche was invalid, and induced the Bishops of Salamanca and Avila to perform a marriage service. Soon after the wedding Pedro left his bride, and insolently avowed that he had only experienced a passing passion for her.

One day Abu Said, King of Granada, wrote to Pedro of Seville, begging an audience of him that he might seek his help in resisting an enemy, Mahommed-ibn-Yussuff. To this request Pedro acceded. Abu Said, escorted by three hundred of his court, and a number of menials, journeyed to Seville, and was received most graciously by the King, who gave orders that the visitor and his retinue should be well cared for in the Alcázar. The Red King, Abu Said, possessed a splendid treasure of jewels. Among the precious stones was the famous ruby which now decorates the royal crown of England. It is possible that the Moorish King intended to present certain of his gems to Pedro, for we read that he brought his treasure with him to Seville. But his host, hearing how fine a store of jewels lay within his reach, commanded a number of hired murderers to purloin the treasures by force. The guest and his nobles were surprised in their apartments; they were stripped of their valuables and money, while the Red King was deprived of the very clothes that he wore. Dressed in common raiment, and seated upon a donkey, the unfortunate Abu was taken, amid the derision of the rabble, to a field without Seville, and there executed with thirty-six of his courtiers. Pedro's excuse for his treachery and cruelty was that the King of Granada had betrayed him in his war with Aragon, a charge that could not be founded.

Among the beauties of Seville of that date was the Señora Urraca Osorio. When Pedro saw her, he vowed to bring her within his power. At first he paid her compliments and endeavoured to win her favour by flattery and gifts. Urraca was a proud woman. In all likelihood she recoiled from this brutal flatterer and deceiver of women, and not even his kingly rank could induce her to pay the least heed to his addresses. No one dared to foil Pedro; the señora doubtless surmised the revenge that the King would plan against her. Yet she bravely refused to lend her ear to his proposal, preferring death to the forfeiture of her self-respect. Then Pedro threatened a terrible punishment. Urraca still refused. Faggots were piled in the market square of the town, and the persecuted lady was led forth and burned to death in public.

The people of Seville seem to have been hypnotised by their cruel sovereign. For these horrible deeds they even offered pleas of extenuation, and, according to some Spanish historians, Pedro was one of the most popular of the kings that lived in the city after its restoration to the Christians. A certain Bohemian strain in the King's character no doubt appealed to a mass of his subjects. He was credited with sympathy for the labouring class and a desire to protect the people against the tyranny of the nobles. Where his own personal interests were not concerned, Pedro the Cruel sometimes evinced that sense of equity that led Felipe II. to describe him as 'the Just.' But in private matters Pedro displayed no trait of justice and no hint of magnanimity.

Now and then Pedro would muffle himself in his capa, don his sword, and wander from the palace after dark to the low quarters of Seville. He liked to study the life of the Mudéjares, the Jews, and the artisans, and to rub shoulders with his subjects when they were scarcely likely to recognise him. One night the King was roaming in the alleys of the city, keeping an eye upon all who passed by, and probably hoping that he might find an unlucky watchman off his guard and neglecting his duty. Suddenly a passing hidalgo pushed against the King. Pedro abused the stranger; there was an altercation, and swords were whipped out of their sheaths. In the dim light of the thoroughfare the combatants clashed blades, and engaged in a duel to the death. Presently the King's opponent received a thrust in a vital part of the body, and falling to the pavement, he lay bleeding to death. A few weeks before this night's encounter Pedro had forbidden street-fighting, on penalty of capital punishment for the unwary custodians of order in the city.

With a grim smile, the King sheathed his weapon and went home to the Alcázar, musing upon the consternation of the authorities when the corpse of the caballero was discovered. Next morning he sent for the Alcalde, or Mayor of the city. 'Sir,' said Pedro, 'you fully understand that I hold you accountable for any breach of the peace that occurs in the streets of Seville?' The Mayor humbly responded that he knew the fresh regulation which his majesty had been pleased to enforce. At that moment a page brought word to the King that the dead body of a hidalgo had been found, early that morning, in the plaza near where the Casa Pilatos now stands. 'What means this?' demanded Pedro, turning to the affrighted Alcalde. 'If the murderer of this gentleman is not found in two days, understand that you will be hanged.' The Mayor's face was white as he bowed himself from the royal chamber. With a sinking heart he prepared himself for his fate. There was scarcely any hope of tracking the assassin in forty-eight hours.

The wretched Mayor sat down in his room to meditate upon the best means of tracing the criminal. Meanwhile the story of the murder was abroad, and people were talking of the affair. The gossip reached the ears of an old woman, who went at once to the Alcalde, telling him that she had seen a fight from her bedroom window late during the previous night. The combatants appeared to be gentlemen, but to make sure, she lit a candle and leaned out of the window. One man had his back towards her, and she could not see his face. But of the identity of his opponent she was quite certain: it was his majesty the King, and no other. When she saw, beyond a doubt, that it was the King who plunged his blade into the hidalgo's breast, she felt terrified, blew out the candle, and withdrew her head from the window.

'Thank God!' cried the Mayor, seizing the old woman's hand. Then he hurried to the Alcázar, sought a hearing from the sovereign, and said that he had found the murderer of the hidalgo. The King smiled. 'Indeed, your majesty,' said the Alcalde, 'I can let you look him in the face when he hangs on the gallows.' 'Good!' replied Pedro, still smiling incredulously.

Hastening to the quarter of the Moorish artisans, the Mayor ordered them to make a cunning effigy of the King, and to bring it to him without delay. A few days after, the Alcalde requested his majesty to attend the hanging of the criminal in the Plaza de San Francisco. Greatly curious, Pedro came to the place of execution. And there, upon the gibbet, he saw a dummy of himself dangling from the rope. Struck with the humour and ingenuity of the Mayor's device, the King said: 'Justice has been done. I am satisfied.' The street where Pedro fought with the hidalgo is called the Calle della Cabeza del Rey Don Pedro, and the alley where the old woman lived is known as the Calle del Candilejo, or 'street of the candlestick.'

In visiting the Alcázar we shall have more to recall of the career of Pedro the Cruel. The palace is haunted with memories of the King and of Maria de Padilla. Pedro was fond of Seville and preferred the Alcázar to any other residence. He made many alterations in the palace, built the rooms around the Patio de la Monteria, and brought material for their construction from the remains of Moorish edifices in Seville, Córdova, and other places.

When Pedro caused his unfortunate wife, Blanche, to die in prison, from the dagger, or by poison, his subjects were at length aroused to indignation. The insensate ruler was bringing the nation to the verge of ruin by his misdeeds. France resented the dastardly murder of Blanche of Bourbon, and the King vowed revenge on Pedro. Enrique, brother of Pedro, was fighting for the crown, and had been proclaimed Sovereign at Toledo; while the Sevillians, who had long endured their King's severities and condoned his cruelties, were up in arms and threatening the royal palace. Pedro fled from Seville, and came eventually into Aquitaine, to the court of the English Black Prince at Bordeaux. The chivalrous Black Prince espoused the cause of Pedro against Enrique, pitying the fugitive King who had been forced to leave his country. In return for his support, Pedro offered his English ally a large sum of gold, and the great ruby stolen from Abu Said in the Alcázar of Seville.

The campaign was decided in favour of the King of Spain, but its hardships cost the Black Prince his life. Pedro was again acknowledged King. His downfall was, however, fast approaching. Enrique conquered his brother, soon after the departure of the English army, and came to see him at Montiel in La Mancha. It is said that Pedro was treacherously drawn into a trap. In any case, he fell by the dagger of his brother Enrique; and so ended violently the life of one who had lived in violence and bloodshed.

As our story is more concerned with the city of Seville than with the fortunes of the rulers of Spain, we may resume the narration at the time of Isabella and Fernando. No incidents of signal importance occurred in Seville between the death of Pedro I. and the accession of the famous Catholic Queen. With the reign of Isabella, the city became the theatre of events that influenced the whole of the nation, and indeed the whole of Christendom.

It was at this time that the arts and letters of Spain began to revive. In Seville the year 1477 is the date of the first setting up of a printing press, by one Theodoricus el Aleman (the German). Konrad Haebler, in his work on The Early Printers of Spain and Portugal, says that for fifteen years the only printers in the city were German immigrants. One of the early important books printed in Seville was Diego de Valera's Cronica de España. In 1490 a firm of printers, under the title of Four German Companions, opened business, and in three years published nine volumes, while two years later there was a rival press owned by another German.

It was in 1493 that the city saw the return of the great Columbus from his first voyage. For a long time the blue-eyed, dreamy Genoese, Christoforo Colombo, had mused upon the scientific works of the cultivated Moors, and speculated upon the existence of other lands far away across the restless ocean. Sceptics laughed at the dreamer; the clergy frowned at his impudent theories; but a few bold adventurers were inspired by his enthusiasm.

The story of his setting forth has been often told. Let us welcome the sunburnt explorer upon his return to Seville on Palm Sunday 1493. The wondering people are all anxious to catch sight of Cristobal Colon, the Italian, who claims to have discovered a New World. He passes down the streets, a tall, brawny man, bronzed, with red hair, which became white at the age of thirty. To those who question him he replies with dignity and courtesy, becoming eloquent as he describes the marvels of the vast country beyond the sea. The whole city is talking of the great news; the foreign sailor is the hero of the hour. And now those who doubted Colon's sanity are singing his praises in all the public meeting-places of Seville. An office for the administration of this new country is instituted in the city. From the Queen and her Consort to the seller of water in the streets, everyone utters the name of the explorer with admiration. The ecclesiastics, who declared that it was impious to assert that the earth is a globe, are vexed that they have been found wrong in their arrogant statements. They continue to quote from the Pentateuch, and the writings of St. Chrysostom, St. Jerome and St. Augustine to show that pious authority was on their side.

Queen Isabel had encouraged the Genoese sailor in his project, and the wealthy Pinzon family, of Palos, had assisted him with means, some of them also accompanying the explorer on his first voyage. Columbus was made an admiral, and promised further support in his expeditions. In May 1493 he started again, having with him fifteen hundred men and a fleet of fifty vessels. The crews of these ships were made up of adventurers, gold-seekers, idlers and a sprinkling of scoundrels selected by the Government. In the company there were priests, and it was through the machinations of one of them, Father Boil, that Christopher Columbus incurred the displeasure of Isabel and Fernando. By every ship that was bound for Spain from the New World, Boil sent complaints of Columbus. Unfortunately, Isabel lent her ear to these slanders, and sent Francisco Bobadilla to dismiss Cristobal Colon, and to take his place. Bobadilla took possession of Columbus's charts and papers, put him into chains, and sent him, like a felon, in the hold of a ship to Spain.

It is pitiful to read of the degradation of this honest and brave man, whose energies built up the prosperity of Spain, and made Seville one of the busiest cities of Europe. He laid his case before the Queen and Fernando, and vowed that he had in no sense neglected his duty towards the country of his adoption. We know that he was 'forgiven,' but the insult offered to him preyed upon the sensitive mind of the explorer. Yet he again resolved to visit the land that he had discovered; and in 1503 he left Spain with four worn-out ships. A year later Columbus returned for the last time. The people of San Lucar, at the mouth of the Guadalquivir, welcomed back a captain in shattered health, and a crew wearied by hardship and exposure.

Columbus now longed to settle quietly in Seville, and to end his days there. He found that his popularity was waning, and that his rents had not been collected properly during his absence. With the death of Isabel he lost royal patronage. His last voyage had cost him much; but the people of Seville believed him to be immensely rich, whereas his income was now meagre. 'Little have I profited,' writes Columbus, in a letter, 'by twenty years of service, with such toils and perils; since, at present, I do not own a roof in Spain. If I desire to eat or sleep I have no resort but an inn; and for the most times have not wherewithal to pay my bill.'

In his last days we picture Christopher Columbus bending over the manuscripts, which may be seen in the Biblioteca Columbina, the library at Seville founded by the natural son of Columbus. One of the manuscripts treats upon biblical prophecy. It was written to appease the Inquisitors, who, to the last, suspected the discoverer of heresy. Writing of this Apologia, Washington Irving says that the title and some early pages of the book are by Fernando Columbus; 'the main body of the work is by a strange hand, probably by Friar Gaspar Gorricio, or some other brother of his convent.' There are signs in the hand-writing that Columbus was old and in poor health when he wrote the work. The characters are, however, distinct. There are passages from the Christian Fathers and the Bible, construed by the author into predictions of the discovery of the New World.

The gallant voyager was now prematurely aged, though he had led an abstemious life. Disappointment at the neglect of the world no doubt preyed upon his spirits in these last days of his career, for it is said that he possessed 'a too lively sensibility.' Upon the whole, Columbus was ill-used by Spain, though his memory is revered. It is the old, sad story of worth and genius. In 1506 Cristobal Colon died in a poor lodging at Valladolid. He left a son, born to him by his mistress, Beatrix Enriquez. In his will Columbus left money to Beatrix.

Great honour was paid to the body of the famous explorer. Columbus was buried in the parish church of Santa Maria de la Antigua. Some years later the Sevillians desired that the remains should be removed to their city, and they were then carried to the Carthusian monastery of Las Cuevas, to the Chapel of St. Ann, or of Santo Christo. The house of Las Cuevas was a fine one, celebrated for its pictures and treasures, and surrounded with orange and lemon groves. But the bones of Columbus were not to remain in Seville. They were taken, in 1536, to Hispaniola, and laid in the principal chapel of the Cathedral of San Domingo. Finally the remains were removed to Havanna.

While paying due respect to Christopher Columbus, we must not forget the great services rendered to the country generally, and to Seville, by Fernando de Magallanes, or Magellan, who embarked at that port in August 1519 with five vessels. Passing the Canary Islands and Cape Verde, the Portuguese explorer reached Brazil, and went south to Patagonia, 'the land of giants,' arriving eventually at the dangerous straits which bear his name. Magellan never returned to Spain. Only two of his ships reached the Moluccas, and of the five that started but one came back to Seville on the homeward journey.

These were the days when Seville was a bustling port of embarkation, and a great storehouse for treasure from America and the Indies. A fever of emigration seized the adventurous spirits of Andalusia; and Andrea Navigiero, a Venetian ambassador, who journeyed through Spain in 1525, says that the population of Seville was so reduced that 'the city was left almost to the women.'

The discoveries and conquests of Pizarro, who came to Seville after his first voyage, added to the enthusiasm for emigration. But Pizarro found it a hard matter to raise money for the expenses of a second expedition. He contrived, however, to man three ships, and was about to start, when the Council of the Indies sought to inquire into the state of the vessels. Fearing that he might be hindered from his scheme, the explorer set sail at San Lucar, in great haste, and made for the Canary Islands.

It was in January 1534 that Hernando, brother of Francisco Pizarro, was directed to return to Seville with a great hoard of treasure. The Custom House was filled with ingots, vases and ornaments of gold, and the inhabitants were much interested in the splendid spoil. Hernando Pizarro came later under a charge of cruelty to the subject race of South America. In his Spanish Pioneers, Mr Lummis tells us that 'Hernando was for many years imprisoned at Medina del Campo, and that he died at the age of a hundred. His brother, Francisco, who was born at Truxillo, in Estremadura, was a swineherd in his boyhood. Fired with the spirit of romance and adventure, the lad deserted his herd of pigs and ran away to Seville, where he found scope for his restless energy, and was able to influence seafaring men to accompany him on a cruise of discovery.

Seville was now at the height of its commercial prosperity. There was a constant come and go of trading vessels; the silk trade was greatly developed, and leather was made for the markets of Spain. Isabel took much interest in the improvement of the commerce of the city. When she ascended the throne, Seville was notorious for its gangs of thieves and criminals of all kinds, while the surrounding country was insecure through the numbers of bandits who waylaid and robbed traders and farmers on the roads. The Queen determined to stamp out crime by rigorous measures. She held a court in the salon of the Alcázar, and, in the Castilian custom, presided over the hearing of criminal charges. Once a week, Isabel sat in her chair of state, on a daïs covered with gold cloth. For two months she conducted a crusade against robbery in the city, recovering a great amount of stolen property, and condemning many offenders to severe penalties. Her severity struck alarm among the vagabond and thieving population, and probably terrified a number of the people who had reason to fear justice. Four thousand subjects left the town. The respectable burghers grew concerned, dreading that this depopulation would injure the city and deprive it of workmen. A deputation of citizens waited upon Isabel and begged her to relax her austerity. The Queen was therefore prevailed upon to offer an amnesty for all offenders except those convicted of heresy.

Isabel's fortunes as a ruler were largely determined by her charms. The Sevillians could not fail to worship the tall, fair young Queen, with the frank and beautiful countenance and blue eyes. Her very unconventionality delighted her court and the army; and when she rode at the head of her troops, in a suit of mail, with a sword by her side, every caballero was ready to follow the fair commander through blood and fire. Isabel's sword, a pretty little weapon, is to be seen in the Real Armeria at Madrid.

The Queen was one of those magnetic personages to whom all things are permissible. Even in modern times it is considered unseemly for a Spanish woman to engage in field sports, or any kind of athletic exercise; but the Spaniards of Isabel's day not only forgave, but revered, the Queen who sat on the judicial bench, donned masculine attire, carried weapons, and took a man's part in the government of her state. Had it not been for the terrible taint of bigotry, which led Isabel to sanction deeds of persecution and cruelty, her character would have presented an example approaching the excellence with which enthusiastic historians have credited it.

Four years after the accession of Isabel there began the reign of the Inquisition in Seville. When Alfonso de Hoyeda, Prior of the city, and Felipe de Barberis, Inquisitor of Sicily, persuaded Fernando that a crusade against heresy would replenish his exchequer by means of confiscation, the King was induced to listen to their proposal. At first Isabel recoiled from this scheme of torture and plunder. But her woman's mind and heart were not secure against the insidious influence of the priests, who used their utmost powers of suasion to convince her that Heaven approved of the destruction of heretics. Finally the Queen gave way; and the 17th of September 1480 saw the setting up of the tribunal of the Holy Office in the Dominican Convent of St. Paul at Seville.

M'Crie, in The History of the Reformation in Spain, states that 'in the course of the first year in which it was erected, the Inquisition of Seville, which then extended over Castile, committed two thousand persons alive to the flames, burnt as many in effigy, and condemned seventeen thousand to different penances.' We must note, however, that according to Prescott these figures refer to several years and not to the opening years of the institution of the Holy Office in Seville. By the end of October 1481 it is recorded that three hundred persons had been burned to death in Seville. In about thirty-six years, four thousand victims went to the stake in the city, while many times that number were condemned to slavery, to perpetual imprisonment, to short terms, and to other punishments.

'The modern Inquisition,' writes M'Crie, 'stretched its iron arms over a whole nation, upon which it lay like a monstrous incubus, paralysing its exertions, crushing its energies, and extinguishing every other feeling but a sense of weakness and terror.' Many of the Sevillians fled from the city and sought the protection of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, the Marquis of Cadiz, and the Count of Arcos.

At this period a frightful pestilence swept over Seville, reducing the population by thirty thousand, and causing great suffering. The clergy resorted to prayer; charms and relics of the saints were displayed in the churches; but little or nothing was done in the way of preventing a spread of the plague by sanitation, or of alleviating the malady by medical science. It is a saddening picture – the people dying of the disease, thousands languishing in dungeons, and a multitude filled with fear lest they should succumb to the epidemic, or fall into the hands of the Inquisitors. Puigblanch, author of The Inquisition Unmasked, states that the number of the banished and the 'reconciled' in Andalusia from 1480 to 1520 was a hundred thousand. He asserts that forty-five thousand persons were done to death in the Archbishopric of Seville during this period.

Without the city, on the Prado de San Sebastian, is the burning ground. As we stand there, the imagination conjures a procession accompanying a victim to the awful torture of the stake. The doomed man is an aged and devout Morisco, who has saved money by his industry. He has been found guilty of infidelity, and he has refused to partake of the Christian sacrament. He is dressed in the sanbenito, a yellow garment, with pictures of devils kindling a fire and burning faggots, and on his head is a fantastic conical cap of pasteboard, called the coroza. First comes a troop of soldiers to clear a path for the procession through the jostling rabble. The soldiers are followed by several priests in canonical vestments, and the boys of the College of Doctrine, who chant the liturgy. Then comes the convicted heretic, with a familiar on either side, and two friars, followed by the judges, ministers of government, and hidalgoes on horseback. In another procession comes the Inquisitors, and their standard of red, with the names and insignia of Pope Sixtus IV. and King Fernando upon it. The members of the Holy Office are escorted by esquires, and in the rear is a great mob of towns-people. But enough: imagination is at this point repelled. We turn away from the scene, and enter the shady gardens that stretch along the Guadalquivir, to scent the flowers and to listen to the thrush and nightingale.

We cannot, however, close our perceptions to the fact that Seville played an important part in the Inquisition. In roaming the streets of the city, it is impossible to forget that this mighty instrument of fanaticism has left its impress on Spain. We remember that every son of Seville who dared to exercise his conscience in the matter of religious belief ran the risk of ending his life upon the Prado de San Sebastian. The terror of this institution must have blighted the lives of millions of Spaniards. And we are moved to the reflection that the good which Isabel performed with one hand was almost destroyed by the evil inflicted by the other.

The story of Rodrigo de Valer, one of the first to embrace the Lutheran faith in Seville, is of deep interest. In the fashionable resorts of the town and at the jousts no youth was more popular than Rodrigo. He had charming manners, sat a horse gracefully, and could break a lance with the most skilful knights of the ring. His wealth procured him every pleasure; he gratified a taste for dress and spent much money upon horses. Suddenly he was missed from the dance and the tournament. His friends could not account for this changed mode of life. A passion for study had taken possession of the young man; and day after day he sat pouring over the Vulgate, and improving his knowledge of Latin, so that he might understand the book. In a few months Valer was able to quote long passages of the Bible from memory. Then he left his study and went back to his gay companions as an apostle of a new form of faith. He approached the clergy and the monks, and by argument endeavoured to convince them of the errors of their creed and ritual, appealing to the Bible as the criterion of religious truth. The priests were little inclined to listen to Rodrigo. But when they avoided him, the youth sought them, engaging them in discussion in the streets and striving to set forth his new doctrine. At length the indignant clerics of Seville brought the heretic before the Holy Inquisition. So cogent were his arguments that some of the members who secretly shared his opinions used their influence to save him from punishment. Fortunately Valer was of good family. He was declared to be insane, and spared from an extreme penalty, but his estates were taken by the tribunal.

Rodrigo's relations now strove to dissuade him from renewing his endeavours to reform the Church. What could one helpless man achieve against the whole weight of authority? But Rodrigo was full of zeal. He began again to denounce the teaching of the clerics, inspired by the belief that others would soon follow him. For the second time he was arrested on a charge of heresy and sentenced to imprisonment for life.

In the Church of St. Salvador, where Rodrigo was taken on days of festival, the fervent youth would rise after the sermon and condemn the teaching of the pulpit. Only his rank saved him from the flames. He was eventually imprisoned in a monastery of San Lucar, where he died at the age of fifty. Valer's sanbenito was displayed for a long time in the metropolitan church of Seville. It was inscribed: 'Rodrigo de Valer, a citizen of Lebrixia and Seville, an apostate, and false apostle, who pretended to be sent of God.'

The teaching of Valer was not without fruit. He was the founder of a small, but fervent, sect of Lutheran Christians in Seville, whose doctrines gradually found acceptance among a number of the people. One of the reformed party was Juan Gil, known as Doctor Egidius, preacher in Seville Cathedral, who was joined by Vargas and the celebrated Constantine Ponce de la Fuente. M'Crie says that 'the small society in Seville grew insensibly, and became the parent stock, from which branches were taken and planted in the adjacent country.' Persecution was inevitable. Egidius was denounced and thrown into prison, while Vargas was murdered, and Ponce de la Fuente banished. After a long incarceration, Egidius returned to Seville; but he caught a fever, and died in a few days. De Montes says that the writings of Egidius, which were never printed, were worthy of praise. The Doctor wrote commentaries on Genesis and the Psalms, and while in prison he composed an essay on 'Bearing the Cross.'

Protestantism spread in Seville at this time. There was a church under the care of Doctor Christobal Losada, which met in the house of a lady of rank, Isabel de Baena, and was attended by the nobles Don Juan Ponce de León and Domingo de Guzman. In the Dominican Monastery of St. Paul, in the Nunnery of St. Elizabeth, and especially in the Convent of San Isidro del Campo, the new doctrines found disciples.

One of the victims of the Inquisition was Torrigiano, the Florentine sculptor, whose statue of St. Jerome is in the Museo Provincial at Seville. The monument of Henry VII. in Westminster Abbey is the work of this artist, who ended his days in the cells of the Inquisitors' prison in Seville, in 1552. There is no doubt that many of the hapless prisoners died of diseases contracted in the insanitary dungeons of Seville and Triana, for Olmedus, one of the sufferers, describes the dens as vile in 'nastiness and stench.' The ordinary gaols were crowded, and many persons were immured in the Castle of Triana, and in the convents of the city.

At Triana resided Gonzales-Munebrega, Archbishop of Tarragona, whose name was coupled with that of Torquemada as a ruthless persecutor. This officer of the Inquisition might be seen by the trembling populace walking in the castle gardens, accompanied by a guard of servants. Munebrega wore rich clothes of purple and silk, and maintained great pomp. He exhibited extreme cruelty, and scoffed at the sufferings and cries of the tortured.

Llorente and Bernaldez relate some sickening details of the savage modes of torment imposed upon the victims of the Inquisition in Seville. It is not necessary that the tales of horror should be retold here. The first auto-da-fé celebrated in the city was in 1559, when Don Juan Ponce de León and several other apostates were committed to the flames in one of the chief plazas. Ponce de León was described as 'an obstinate Lutheran heretic.' The heroic Doctor Juan Gonzalez, of Moorish ancestry, was burnt upon the same day for preaching Protestant doctrines. We see him leaving the Triana gaol on the morning of execution, 'cheerful and undaunted,' though he was accompanied by his two sisters, both of whom were condemned to the stake, and had left behind in the prison his mother and two brothers. The Doctor sang the 109th Psalm, and attempted to console his sisters, whereupon a gag was thrust into his mouth.

'When they were brought to the place of execution,' writes M'Crie, 'the friars urged the females, in repeating the creed, to insert the word Roman in the clause relating to the Catholic Church. Wishing to procure liberty to him to bear his dying testimony, they said they would do as their brother did. The gag being removed, Juan Gonzalez exhorted them to add nothing to the good confession which they had already made. Instantly the executioners were ordered to strangle them, and one of the friars, turning to the crowd, exclaimed that they had died in the Roman faith.' Doctor Christobal Losada, the pastor of the Protestant church in Seville, suffered death courageously upon the same day.

Isabel de Baena, who allowed meetings of the Protestants in her house, and Maria de Bohorques were among the women of high birth who were burned in Seville. The story of the last-named lady has been told in a romance by a Spanish writer, entitled Cornelia Bororquia. Maria de Bohorques came into the grip of the Holy Office before the age of twenty-one. She was a pupil of Egidius, and a diligent student of the Scriptures. When seized and tortured by the Inquisition, she refused to name those of her friends who shared her belief. Doña Maria was then sent to the stake.

Llorente recounts that two Englishmen were burned at one of the autos of Seville. Nicholas Burton, a merchant of London, who traded with Spain, arrived with his vessel at San Lucar while the persecution was raging in Seville. Somewhat imprudently, Burton spoke contemptuously of the Inquisition, though M'Crie states that the accusation of insolence was false. Burton was burnt alive, together with William Burke, a seaman of Southampton, and a Frenchman, named Fabianne. The Holy Office then seized Burton's cargo; but a part of it belonged to a London tradesman, who sent one John Frampton to Seville, with a power of attorney, to recover the goods. Frampton failed to make good his claim after four months of negotiation, and he returned to England to find greater powers. When he landed again in Spain, the agent was arrested, put in chains, and thrown into the dungeon of Triana. The charge against him was that he had a volume of Cato in his bag. He was questioned as to his creed, and ordered to repeat the Ave Maria. Subjected to the torture of the rack, the wretched man was forced to confess anything that his torturers desired. Frampton was imprisoned for two years, and then granted his freedom. His 'Narrative' is to be found in Strype's Annals.

The unfortunate Constantine Ponce de la Fuente, who was one of the most active members of the reformed church in Seville, was seized by the Inquisition, and confined in an underground cell for two years, when dysentery put an end to his sufferings. In 1781 the last martyr perished in the flames at Seville. 'I myself,' writes Blanco White, 'saw the pile on which the last victim was sacrificed to human infallibility. It was the unhappy woman whom the Inquisition of Seville committed to the flames, under the charge of heresy, about forty years ago. She perished on a spot where thousands had met the same fate.' A traveller in Spain, named Wiffen, says: 'In the year 1842, whilst travelling in that country, I found myself in the Alameda Vieja of Seville, in front of the house formerly occupied by the Inquisition, where several of the prisoners were confined who were burned at the auto-da-fé of 1560.'

Such is the story of the Inquisition in Seville. I have not willingly dwelt upon this dark page in the history of the fair city. But it has been necessary to refer to the chronicles of this reign of terror; for the institution of the Holy Office in Seville is a matter of historic importance, and no record of the town could be in any sense complete if the annals of the Inquisition were overlooked. And in changing to a happier theme it is necessary that I should point out the repugnance that masses of the people of Seville exhibited towards the introduction of this engine of persecution in the city. Llorente, the Spanish historian of the Inquisition, tells us that when Fernando and Isabel commanded the Governors of the provinces to supply inquisitors and assistants to the royal capital, the inhabitants regarded the arrival of the agents of the Holy Office with extreme dissatisfaction, and that difficulty was experienced in collecting together 'the number of persons whose presence was necessary to the legal opening of their assembly.'

Let us view the city of Isabella the Catholic in a brighter aspect. In the year 1490 an ambassador from Lisbon came to the Alcázar of Seville to confer with the Queen concerning a proposed marriage between young Alonso, heir to the Portuguese throne, and Isabel, the Infanta of Castile, and the dearly-loved namesake of the royal mother. It was with mingled sentiments of joy and sadness that Isabel consented to the union. The month of April was chosen for the ceremony of betrothal, and it was arranged that feasts and tournaments should succeed the official celebration. Great preparations were made for the festivities. The lists were constructed on the bank of the Guadalquivir; hangings of costly material draped the galleries erected for the spectators of the jousts, and the royal palace was prepared for the reception of noble guests, knights of prowess, and their dames and daughters. On the first day of the fêtes a splendid procession passed through the streets to the lists, where thousands of the nobility were seated, all anxious to witness a combat in the arena between King Fernando and one of his most accomplished knights. The charming Infanta delighted everyone as she came with her seventy ladies-in-waiting, in court dress, and her hundred gallant pages as bodyguard. It was a scene which the people long recalled. All the rank and loveliness of Castile and Andalusia were around the arena when the sports began; the mail and weapons of the combatants glistened in the dazzling sunlight of the green meadow; and loud were the plaudits when his majesty broke his first lance in a furious and exciting tilt with a renowned esquire and champion of the lists. Throughout the tournament, Fernando acquitted himself as a true knight of the order of chivalry, displaying much courage and a great knowledge of the art of the tourney. In the autumn Isabel bade adieu to her daughter. A great retinue came to the Alcázar, to accompany the Princess to Portugal, in charge of the Cardinal of Spain and the Grand Master of St. James.

By the Sevillians, Isabel appears to have been feared as well as worshipped. The aliens in the city, all except those who chose to embrace the Catholic faith, had, indeed, good reason to fear their Queen. Isabel's treatment of the Jews cannot be called humane, but she enjoined just conduct towards her Indian subjects. The Queen was humble in her obedience to the Chief Inquisitor, Torquemada, and ever ready to listen to the counsels of her spiritual guides. Towards heresy she showed no clemency, and her measures for dealing with bandits and other criminal offenders were excessively severe. But the romantic personality of Isabella the Catholic will always appeal to the imagination of the Andalusians.