Carlos el Hechizado

Today is the birthday of two Spanish monarchs that I am particularly interested in. I celebrate Queen Juana of Castile's 535th birthday, whose story I have before told. My post today is dedicated to King Carlos II, who is today 353.

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On November 6th, 1661, Queen Mariana gave birth to a presumably healthy baby boy. His name was Carlos. The innocent infant was blissfully unaware of his being born into the House of Habsburg, an incredibly powerful family. But like almost all powerful things, this family had their weakness: pride. The Habsburgs feared mixing their noble blood with anyone, so they resorted to marrying within the family. (Let's keep in mind it was only relatively recently until marrying your cousin was considered immoral.) Indeed, Carlos's mother and father were uncle and niece as well. It wouldn't be long until the Habsburgs saw the results of these continuous incestuous marriages....

Years passed, and by the years, Carlos was older, but by development he was still an infant. Carlos began to speak at the age of four. Not long after, his father, King Philip IV, passed away, leaving his four-year-old son as the only heir to the Spanish throne, and his widow as regent. The boy still couldn't walk on his own, and feeding him was a nightmare given his enormous under-bite. (The under-bite was a very prominent characteristic of the Habsburg family. It was so large that many Habsburgs were unable to chew. Carlos II's under-bite, however, was by-far the worst case.) Carlos's legs were feeble, unable to support his body as he grew older, and his body in general was very fragile and meek. It was at eight years old when he finally was able to walk without full support. The family was very careful with this child. They did not want to stress him, so they gave him very little schooling. Not only was Carlos physically handicapped, but mentally he was too. Because of this he was called “el Hechizado,” “the bewitched.” I believe the only thing truly bewitched is the treatment towards him.

Marie Louise of Orléans, petite-fille de France, arrived at the Spanish court in 1679, waiting to meet her betrothed. When she saw her eighteen-year-old fiancé, who was pitifully lame and deformed, she cried. She loathed Carlos. However, he adored her and was glad to have her in his company. After they married, they were unable to ever have a child, which caused Marie great stress. Marie absolutely hated court life in Spain, and the court hated her as well. More than once there was a riot outside of her home. It was not long until she passed away. Carlos grieved over the loss of his beloved wife. In 1689, the King wedded Maria Anna of Neuburg, a German noblewoman. She, too, was repulsed by her innocent husband, and she despised the Spanish court. Not to mention she hated her mother-in-law.

The economy of Spain had crumbled during this time, and Carlos was put on a lot of pressure to fix this problem. He just couldn't take it anymore, and he practically retired. His epilepsy started to act up during this period, giving him fits which contributed to his becoming deaf. He grew blind as well, and lost almost all of his teeth. He finally passed away on November 1st, 1700, at the age of thirty-eight. Before his death he said, “many people tell me I am bewitched and I well believe it; such are the things I experience and suffer.” (Source) If only he wasn't born into royalty... he would have lived a happier, simpler life around people who cared. I am sure he is in a better place now.

Luckily, Carlos did not live to see the gruesome war that followed, the War of the Spanish Succession.

War of the Roses - King Henry VI

King Henry V

I like King Henry V. He was so cool. He had an amazing hairstyle, he was fashionable, and he just seemed like a great guy, but—alas! he passed away from a pitiful sickness when he was only thirty-five, leaving his only son, also named Henry, less than a year old, to take the throne. Charles the Mad, also known as the Beloved,—choose as you will—King of France, also passed away not long after. The French throne was, arguably, given to the boy, Henry. He was known as Henry VI in England and Henry II in France.

King Henry VI

Imagine a King's court, with bright tapestries hanging on the walls, with a grand throne adorned with jewels, with ample banquets of only-the-finest delicacies, and, of course, with the King parading through the halls dressed in brilliant, rich colors. King Henry's court, once he was of age, was opposite. The King was humble, as if he did not even hold any power at all. He dressed very plainly, and he was not exactly fashionable for his day. He expected everyone else to dress modestly as well, and he was extremely chaste. John Blacman, in his memoir of Henry, recounts a certain Christmas party, where nude dancers were sent to the King. Upon witnessing this display, Henry angrily stormed out, saying “Fie, fie! for shame! forsooth ye be to blame!” John Blacman also remembers the King as being incredibly charitable, frequently giving to the poor. As for banquets? Ha! Henry ate very little, so as to save as much as he could to those in need.

Margaret of Anjou

England and France were not on very friendly terms during this time. Joan of Arc was leading the French to victory, and Henry really didn't care. The King hated bloodshed, war, violence, and anything of that sort. In fact, he often interrupted hangings, and pardoned the condemned to save them from death. Perhaps his virtue, which can easily be anyone's greatest quality, was also his greatest fault. Paying hardly any mind to the foreign affairs of his country, he often spent his days studying Scripture and praying. But Henry did do one thing to make peace with France, and that was marry the French Margaret of Anjou. Unlike her husband, she had a temper. Margaret did not stand behind her husband; she overpowered him. The two complemented each other perfectly.

1453 was the year of Henry's first mental breakdown. He sat, seemingly traumatized, never speaking to a single soul. The King recognized no one, not even his own wife. Nowadays it is believed he may have had catatonic schizophrenia, undoubtedly inherited from his grandfather, Charles the Mad. Richard, Duke of York served as regent during this time, hoping to get his family's power back to the throne; he was from the House of York, and they believed that they were the true royal heirs. During this period of lunacy, the Queen gave birth to the couple's first child, a son named Edward. Rumors were spread by the House of York that the child was actually the son of Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, the Queen's favorite. The rumors were supported when, after the King was back to his normal self, he did not recognize the child.

In 1455 the House of York and their supporters met the House of Lancaster and their supporters—which was, of course, King Henry VI's family and friends—at the town of St. Albans. There they battled, and Edmund was killed. Many Lancastrians fled, leaving Henry to defend himself. Although the Yorks certainly gained power after this battle, Henry's control was not completely gone. Not long after, Henry was once again in shock, while the Queen continued to fight with the Yorks. Viciously and steadfastly she supported peaceful Henry and her son's right to the throne.

In the next battle of 1460, Richard, Duke of York was killed. The Yorks didn't lose hope though. Richard's son, Edward (not to be confused with the younger Prince Edward, the King's son), continued the war. He was even fiercer than his father, and ultimately he caused Margaret and her son to flee to Scotland. Edward was crowned King Edward IV of England. As for Henry? He was held prisoner in the Tower of London.

Edward IV - considered
handsome in his day

Edward IV was secretly married to the widow of one of the Lancastrians. Her name was Elizabeth Woodville. When he finally confessed of this marriage to his subjects, they were outraged. Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, a long-time supporter of the Yorks, was especially disgusted—so much so that he quickly abandoned Edward and switched to the side of the Lancastrians. The Earl of Warwick fought to restore Henry's power, and he succeeded.

But Henry's second bout of ruling did not last too long, and it certainly wasn't very a happy time. His wife was off fighting wars, and that led to them both losing their son. He was only 17-years-old. The devastated Queen was briefly imprisoned, and after she was let out, she returned to Anjou. Margaret remained there for the rest of her life.

Shortly after, Edward IV was back in business. Henry was once again in the Tower of London, left alone to grieve over the loss of his only son. He was never to see his wife again, and he knew his destiny. Although Edward IV insisted that Henry died of melancholy, it is too likely that he was murdered wrongly, unjustly, and for what reason? Greed! Greed for power! After examining the bones in 1910, researchers found blood on Henry's skull.

After the death of the good King Henry VI, he was informally worshipped by many as a saint and martyr.

John Blacman includes in his memoir a prayer to King Henry VI. The last verse goes:

“O blessyd kyng so gracios and gud

Thou pray to sett this reme in rest

Unto our Saveyour that dyed on roud

And to hys modyr that madyn blessyd

That alkyn wrangys may be redressyd

To plesor of the Deyte

Thys I besech at my request

Now swet kyng Henre praye for me.”

The Peasants' Revolt

Our tale begins in old, merry England, shortly after about one third of the European population was swept away with that dastardly Black Death. It was really quite a dark period for all of Europe. But time went on since then. Seasons passed, children grew up, peasants worked, more meaningless wars were to be had, and so on.

c. 1310 rural scene of reeve directing serfs, from the Queen Mary Psalter

Serfdom was devastated; there were very little serfs left, and the ones who survived expected to be paid and treated by their lords like actual humans. Laws were passed to stop them from being paid, but some lords kindly and generously gave in—not all, of course, and evidently many serfs were angry about that.

Richard II

Peasants were forced to maintain the yards of churches. (I wonder why the laymen couldn't have done it. Laziness...) It was a huge annoyance to the peasants, who already had a lot of chores of their own that they needed to take care of. And to make it worse, they weren't paid—not even in the slightest form. A priest named John Ball supported these poor folk.

There was also that Hundred Years War that was going on in 1381, and they needed cash, so our good King Richard II issued a poll tax (where every living person in England over the age of fifteen has to pay one groat to the King.) It didn't help that this was the third time this happened over a period of four years. You may be thinking,“it's only a groat,” but for the poorer folk, a groat can go a long way. The peasants were annoyed, and many refused to pay. And so when the taxman came to a little village called Fobbing in Essex on the 10th of May, the villagers promptly and angrily chased him out.

The taxman was outraged. He brought this to the Court of Common Pleas. The chief justice soon arrived to reprimand the rebelling villagers, but it would take more than just that to stop them. They threw him out too! He should have known never to under-estimate the strength of a group of angry peasants. The peasants of Kent united with the peasants of Essex—about sixty-thousand men in all. The three leaders were Wat Tyler, John Ball, and Jack Straw. Soon they resolved to march all the way to London to make the youthful, fourteen-year-old King finally listen to them. John Ball riled up fellow marchers with this sermon:

“From the beginning all men by nature were created alike, and our bondage or servitude came in by the unjust oppression of naughty men. For if God would have had any bondmen from the beginning, he would have appointed who should be bond and who free. And therefore I exhort you to consider that now the time is come, appointed to us by God, in which ye may (if ye will) cast off the yoke of bondage, and recover liberty.”

(Source)

John Ball cheers the rebels on, from Froissart's Chronicles, c. 1470.

The journey to London was fun for the rebels. Along the way they merrily ripped tax records and registers to shreds. They let prisoners flee and hop with glee. Some other poor folk happily joined the rebellion, too. The King's uncle's, John of Gaunt, castle was also burned down by some sneaky peasants.

The young King, frightened at this uprising as I'm sure any King would be, finally met with the rebels at Mile End on June 14th. To him the peasants petitioned for the poll tax to be gone, serfdom to be abolished, and for certain people such as John of Gaunt to be killed. The King gladly agreed, as long as they'd all just leave London. Many left, but many also stayed just to murder the Archbishop and Lord Treasurer. They put the heads on pikes and they held them in the air while they pranced around the city. Because they got what they wanted from the King, they wanted to continue this chaotic celebration.

Wat Tyler, along with his rebels from Kent, and the King met again the next day at Smithfield. The Lord Mayor of London, William Walworth, saw this as a perfect opportunity to murder Wat. He pushed Wat off his horse and a squire of the King finished him off with a stab in the stomach. The only problem was that the murderers were surrounded by his followers. The King said to them, “I am your captain, follow me!” and he led them away from the corpse. Shortly after that, the rebels went their separate ways to home. As for the other leaders, John Ball was hanged, drawn, and quartered while Jack Straw was also executed.

Wat Tyler is killed. Froissart's Chronicles, c. 1470. (King is shown twice)

The revolt was practically over now. Turns out the King never really kept his promise. He did eliminate the poll tax, but everything else he claimed was made under threat and not valid. Serfdom slowly died out all on its own, and good lords made their remaining serfs free men. Any peasants who still rebelled were likely executed. All's well that ends well.

ROCK ON!

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is 258 years old, but we still hear his amazing music everywhere. He is undoubtedly one of the most influential and famous classical composers. So successful, so talented, and beginning at such a young age, too! So, what is the deal with this dude? What is the story of his life?

The Mozarts

Little Wolfgang was born on January 27th, 1756, in Salzburg, the capital of Archbishopric of Salzburg, part of the Holy Roman Empire (today part of Austria). His dad, Leopold, was a music teacher, composer, and violinist. His mother's name was Anna Maria, and his older sister's name was Maria Anna, affectionately nicknamed “Nannerl.” Being born into this very musical family evidently made Wolfgang and his sister interested in music. Nannerl was being taught to play the harpsichord by her father when she was seven. Wolfgang looked up to his sister and wanted to learn how to play, too. By age five he was already composing music, and was playing different instruments. The parents knew their children both had awesome talents, and so they devised ways to exhibit them.

The Mozarts traveled around Europe beginning in 1762, when Wolfgang was only six-years-old. They played for Vienna's rich and noble society, which included Empress Maria Theresa at the Imperial Court. After that they traveled to France and played for the likes of King Louis XV and Madame de Pompadour, then to England to play for King George III and his Queen, to which Wolfgang dedicated six of his beautiful sonatas. Wolfgang met Johann Christian Bach, son of the Johann Sebastian Bach. As you can imagine, the Mozarts were rock stars, and their wallets were full from all these concerts they were so heavily paid for.

Afternoon Tea at the Temple by Michel-Barthélémy Ollivier
Wolfgang is the little guy on the far left.

After a brief break from show-business, Leopold and Wolfgang arrived in Italy in 1769 (the year Napoleon was born). During this visit, Wolfgang wrote some operas, which were all big hits. It was the usual business for the Mozarts, and in only a few years they were back at Salzburg.

Mozart as a young man

Wolfgang was now a young man when he returned to good ol' Salzburg. The ruler of Salzburg, Count Hieronymus von Colloredo, hired him to be a court musician (the 18th century equivalent of a record deal). 'Twas the good life for Wolfgang, but he really didn't get paid that much. He believed he deserved more, but when he went searching for better pay in Vienna and Munich, nobody offered him any better. Alas, for poor, young Wolfgang it was not to be—but he did not lose hope!

Aloysia

Wolfgang, twenty-one years old, gave up being a plain court musician, and with his mother, searched for bigger and better things. The mother and son had a swell time in Mannheim. Although Wolfgang didn't find the job was he was looking for, he found plenty of places to give concerts, have fun, and he fell in love. That's right! She was a singer named Aloysia Weber. Aloysia came from a musical family and, according to Mozart, had a wondrous voice—and judging from her portraits, she was far from bad-looking, too. However, she didn't show very much interest in marrying him. So Wolfgang sang a heartfelt and beautiful song for her: “Leck mir das Mensch im Arsch, das mich nicht will,” which roughly translates to “if you don't like me you can lick my buttocks.” They never really talked again.

Childish Wolfgang's search for a career was an epic failure so far, but he had a good time for the most part, and that's great, right? He was now in Paris, and Leopold wished for his son and wife to introduce themselves to the court of Versailles. It seemed doable for Wolfgang. However, the Parisians didn't remember him, and if they did, it was only as a mere child star, and hardly anything more. To make things worse, Wolfgang and his mom were low on cash, not to mention his mother was sick. Mrs. Mozart passed away not long after they arrived. It was a miserable period in his life, as one can easily imagine. He failed to gain any inspiration, he was grieved at his loss, and he loathed Paris.

Nannerl and Wolfgang at the fortepiano with their father.
A portrait of their late mother hangs on the wall.

As any sane man would do, given it was possible, he returned home to Salzburg. Leopold and his son did not have a great relationship. Wolfgang was defiant and strived to be the very best, and went against his father's wishes by not wanting to accept another job at Salzburg. Wolfgang instead went to Vienna in search of better work.

Constanze

Vienna was a great place of opportunity. Wolfgang taught, wrote many pieces and played concerts. Before long Wolfgang was in love with Aloysia's sister, Constanze. She loved music too, especially Bach's religious music. This made him more interested in baroque music, and he studied it very much during this period. Although Leopold would not hear of their marriage, the lovers married anyway in 1782, and they proved to be a very happy couple. They had two children who survived infancy.

A genius at work

Everything was starting to fall happily into place. Wolfgang had his brilliant inspiration once again, and during this period he wrote many of his greatest masterpieces. He performed his piano concertos, which were very popular and greatly acclaimed. His opera The Abduction from the Seraglio was a delightful success. A few years later, Wolfgang teamed up with Lorenzo Da Ponte, a librettist, and as a team they wrote sensational operas. In 1786 The Marriage of Figaro was premiered, and it was a huge hit. It's celebrated even today as one of the greatest operas, and it is doubtlessly one of Wolfgang's most well-known works. A year later, another enjoyable opera, Don Giovanni, was premiered. Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, a set of serenades, was also written. We seem to never hear the end of that famous first movement! Contrary to the belief that he wasn't very well-known until after his death, during this period in his life he was really renowned throughout Europe as a composer. (Although he is more famous today.)

Leopold

Leopold passed away the same year, and their tensions remained unresolved. Although they had their quarrels, they were father-and-son, and Wolfgang was embittered from his loss, as anyone would be. After all, he was only human. In 1787 he became Emperor Joseph II's chamber composer. In this job he wrote hip dance music. This brought him cash, and, as I'm sure won't surprise you, he spent it—a bit too carelessly, however. He lost his money as soon as he earned it. Wolfgang was a fop-at-heart and had a soft spot for fancy clothes. His lavishness eventually caught up with him, and even the wealth brought from his music was not enough to support the family. Not to mention Constanze was sick, and the treatments were very costly. He now had to beg for money from his friends, but he always made sure to pay them back.

Wolfgang, c. 1790

Wolfgang traveled around in search of fortune, but alas! nothing could not bring his family out of their struggles. He wrote another highly successful opera, The Magic Flute. But perhaps the most intriguing work of this period was his final piece, the unfinished Requiem Mass in D minor. Isn't the fact that a requiem was his last masterpiece so strangely coincidental?

Franz von Walsegg was the sorrowed man who commissioned the requiem, following the death of his wife. Instead of requesting it himself, he remained anonymous and sent intermediaries. Franz was an aspiring musician, but far from a respectable one; he would often commission works and then take the credit for them. Nevertheless Wolfgang began writing this requiem for the mysterious, faceless stranger. It was melodramatic, intensely emotional and devoutly spiritual. The musician himself was feeling very depressed. Franz Xaver Niemetschek, the first biographer of Mozart, wrote of him:

“On his return to Vienna, his indisposition increased visibly and made him gloomily depressed. His wife was truly distressed over this. One day when she was driving in the Prater with him, to give him a little distraction and amusement, and they were sitting by themselves, Mozart began to speak of death, and declared that he was writing the Requiem for himself. Tears came to the eyes of the sensitive man: ‘I feel definitely,’ he continued, ‘that I will not last much longer; I am sure I have been poisoned. I cannot rid myself of this idea.’”

There have been rumors that Antonio Salieri, a fellow composer and teacher of Beethoven, Franz Schubert and Franz Liszt, indeed poisoned him, but we will never know. He was very disturbed by these accusations, and they contributed to his nervous breakdowns.

Wolfgang, bedridden and pathetic, was claimed by Niemetschek to have said:

“On the day of his death he asked for the score to be brought to his bedside. ‘Did I not say before, that I was writing this Requiem for myself?’ After saying this, he looked yet again with tears in his eyes through the whole work.”

On December 5th, 1791, the composer died. He left behind him so many works. Even 223 years after his death, we cherish and admire his craftsmanship, and I'm sure even 1,000 years from now we will still remember his music. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is one of the very staples of classical music.

Wolfgang, 14 years old

Hugh Despenser the Younger, Favorite and Chamberlain of the King

During the good ol' days of King Edward II of England, there lived a man named Hugh Despenser the Younger. He was the King's favorite, his chamberlain and possibly even lover. So why exactly was happy, hearty Hugh's ultimate fate to be so brutally hanged, drawn and quartered?

When King Edward I (nicknamed “Longshanks,” haha!), Edward II's father, was still ruling England, he was buddies with Hugh's dad. So much so that he arranged a marriage for his granddaughter, Eleanor de Clare, and lil' Hugh. This gave Hugh a good name around nobility.

Fast forward a few years later, while Longshanks's son is on the throne. Eleanor's brother passed away in 1314, so Hugh went to inherit his brother-in-law's lands. Now he was rich. He had a great reputation and beautiful lands.

In 1317 Hugh became King Edward II's chamberlain. He replaced Roger d'Amory's exclusive spot as the King's favorite. What a great life, right? Being the King's best friend, being rich, being well-known... I'd be pretty satisfied. But this wasn't enough for Hugh. He wanted more.

A beautiful contemporary representation of King Edward II

The sly and manipulative chamberlain cheated people out of their land. He was cruel and terrible towards anyone that could give him something. And worst of all it was easy for him to get away with it. He was the King's best friend. But maybe Hugh forgot that he wasn't everyone's best friend. Nobody else liked Hugh. Queen Isabella certainly hated him. John of Nottingham, a renowned magician during the time, had a plot to kill him and the King by sticking pins into dolls that looked like them. And if a famous medieval magician hates you, my friend, everybody hates you.

In 1321 the people revolted against Hugh and had him and his father exiled from England for a while. During this brief period in his life he became a pirate. But only about a year later he was let back into England, and became the King's favorite once more. Most of Hugh's enemies were gone someway or another. Hugh was back to the usual stuff: taking land, robbing people, torturing people if they didn't listen to him. He was incredibly powerful once again and practically acted as King. Happily ever after, right? Not for long.

In 1325, Queen Isabella was basically separated from the King. She packed up her bags and went back to France. This separation made the King even more unpopular than he already was. Roger Mortimer, a member of a rivaling family with the Despensers, was exiled and living in France during this time. And so Roger and Isabella both began the very famous affair.

It was 1326. Everyone hated the Despensers and King Edward II. It was time for someone to do something about it, and the chosen ones were Isabella and Roger. After much strategic planning, and with about 1,500 soldiers, the invasion was to commence.

Hugh and an earl before Isabella

The invasion was a complete success. The Despensers and the King tried to run, but they were captured. Hugh's father was hanged. Hugh tried to starve himself before he was brought to trial. When his trial came he was judged as a traitor and a thief.

Accounts of his execution greatly differ, and we will never know how the execution really went. Jean Froissart gave an incredibly colorful description of a horrid execution (which, honestly, is so disturbing that I'm not going to include, for the sake of humanity). In a less sickening—yet still nasty—account, he was hanged on 50 ft. high gallows, but was cut down before he choked to death. He was probably just quartered, hanged, and beheaded, as most contemporaries described. Whichever telling you choose to believe, this is clear: he was grossly executed.

King Edward was forced to abdicate in favor of his son, Edward III. The King, who was crying, said, “I greatly lament that I have so utterly failed my people, but I could not be other than I am.” (Source) It's not really known how he died, but he was most likely murdered.

Poor Edward. I don't think he himself was a really bad guy. Those around him probably just took advantage of his friendliness and power. Hugh certainly did.

Well, Hugh, now you have what you deserve. You tortured and ruined the lives of tons of people—rich and poor—because you wanted lands and power. That all led to you and your friend's death. I hope you're satisfied with your reward, Hugh.

Juana la Loca

Philip

Well, my friends, today is the day! You guessed it: it's Philip I of Castile's 536th birthday! On July 22nd, 1478, in Bruges, Flanders (today: Belgium), Philip was born. He was the son of then-future Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I and Mary of Burgundy. He was nicknamed “Philip the Handsome” because the courtiers were simply astonished at his sheer beauty: he had long, light hair, a prominent under-bite and chin (characteristic of the Habsburg family), a chubby face, a long, thin nose, and a skinny figure. (It's really just a posthumous nickname that stuck.) Later, Philip became one of the worst husbands the history of monarchy has ever known. (Fun fact: King Henry VIII, who definitely takes the crown of being the worst husband of monarchy, admired this man and was his brother-in-law!)

Juana

But Philip couldn't become King by himself; he was to get married! Infanta Juana of Castile was the oldest daughter of Queen Isabella I of Castile and King Ferdinand II of Aragon (she is also the older sister of Katharine of Aragon, King Henry VIII's first wife). A marriage between Philip and Juana would create a strong alliance between the Habsburgs, Philip's family, and the Trastámaras, Juana's family. Not only was the infanta pretty, but she was very bright and lavishly educated. She could understand all of the Romance languages. However, she was also quite emotional and dramatic. She enjoyed spending time alone, perhaps to read, which she did often.

In 1496, Juana arrived in Flanders to see her fiancé. Philip sent his sister, Margaret, to meet her, rather than himself. How romantic. When Philip finally met his fiancée for himself there was an immediate attraction between the two, and they ordered that they'd be married as soon as possible.

Philip

It wasn't a fairy-tale, happily-ever-after marriage. Philip was quite a ladies' man and Juana was very faithful and loyal to her husband. She was possessive over him, and he really did not enjoy that. Juana would throw jealous fits, and Philip would ignore and avoid his heart-broken wife.

The miserable couple arrived in Spain after both of the heirs to the Spanish throne, Juan and Isabel, had passed away. Juana therefore was the new heiress to the Spanish throne. Philip didn't like Spain at all. It was a very religious place, and it bored him to tears. The women were more modest here, and were not interested in coquetting with a married man. Not to mention Philip got very sick. Philip really wanted to go home, but his pregnant wife held him back. So, after a bad fight, he went back to Flanders by himself. Isn't he just a dream husband?

Juana

The depressed Juana wanted to run back to her husband, but her mother wanted her to be properly trained in being Queen. She was locked up in a castle after she really did try to go back to her husband. There she cried over her sleaze-ball husband, who probably didn't even care. He was home in Flanders with his three children, Eleanor, Charles (later becoming Holy Roman Emperor Charles V), and Isabella.

After the birth of her son, Ferdinand, in 1503, she was even more depressed. How can you blame her when her husband was absent during the birth of their child? The sad mother was bitter and sour. She returned to Flanders in 1504. Then she found out that he was now taking a mistress. She became so angry and so jealous that she cut the mistress's hair off. Then Philip hit his faithful, loving, yet jealous wife in the face. (What a jerk head! I hate you, Philip! It took me, like, 10 minutes to digest that terrible fact.) They made up, but they were still very on-and-off.

Philip

Queen Isabella passed away not too long after, and now Juana was Queen. The Royal couple, now in Spain, were unhappier than ever. Ferdinand, Juana's father, and Philip both believed Juana too unstable to rule, with her jealous rage and melancholic attitude—the two, of course, wanted some power for themselves, too. So they wrote a treaty behind her back which deemed her unfit to rule due to mental disability, thus alienating her from any sort of power.

The 28-year-old Philip got sick again in Burgos, Spain. His wife, pregnant again, stayed with him the whole time at his bed-side. Philip had a bad fever with chills, and constantly was sweating. It is speculated that Ferdinand poisoned him, therefore directing all the power towards himself. When her husband closed his eyes for the last time in 1506, you can imagine how grief-stricken she was. It is said that she stayed with the dead body and talked to it all day. I even read that, when it was time for his burial, she suggested that they go at night to make sure other women would not be tempted. They say that she would open the coffin and kiss the remains. Whether these bizarre, macabre stories are true or not, they prove to be what she is mainly famous for today.

Juana la Loca by Francisco Pradilla Ortiz

Juana was confined to a castle in Tordesillas by her father, who ruled as regent for her. She lived there with her youngest daughter, Catalina. Her other children, Eleanor, Charles, Isabella, Ferdinand, and Mary were home in Flanders, being cared for by their aunt, Margaret of Austria. Juana's father passed away in 1516, and that's when her son, Charles, comes into the picture.

Juana la Loca, imprisoned in Tordesillas by Francisco Pradilla Ortiz

Charles

Charles claimed his inheritance of the throne. He visited his mother and 10-year-old sister in the castle. His mother probably wouldn't be able to recognize him if it wasn't for his humongous Habsburg jaw; he was now a young man. The lonely site of his supposedly mentally unstable mother and his bored sister made him pity them. He wrote to their guardian,“It seems to me that the best and most suitable thing for you to do is to make sure that no person speaks with Her Majesty, for no good could come of it.” (Source)

Juana

In 1525 Catalina moved out to marry King John III of Portugal. The rest of Juana's days she spent alone, depressed and shunned by her entire family. In 1555 the rightful Queen passed away alone in the desolate castle. She outlived her husband by 47 years, being 75-years-old. She is now believed to have had either melancholia or severe clincal depression. Her loyalty is admirable, and I believe she would have been a great Queen if only selfish people didn't use her.

Mean as the Dickens

Charles Dickens is a well-known, beloved author, who penned classic and great works. Although he was a dedicated writer, he wasn't the friendliest husband a Victorian lady could ask for.

Maria Beadnell

When Charles was a young man, only eight-teen, he met a girl named Maria Beadnell. Vivacious, coquettish, and sweet, she stole Charles's heart, but—alas! Maria's parents did not believe this match was suitable. She was sent to school in Paris. Her memory, with Charles, always remained. The short-lived romance inspired David's feelings for Dora in his novel, David Copperfield.

While Dickens was working at the Morning Chronicle, he met George Hogarth. This man had a daughter only three years younger than Charles. Her name was Catherine. She was very sweet and lovable, but not as flirtatious as Maria. Nevertheless, Charles took her as his wife in 1836.

Catherine Dickens

Once the couple were happily married, Catherine's younger sister moved in (as was custom in those days.) The sister's name was Mary. She passed away at only seventeen in 1837. This devastated Charles. Mary was reflected in several of Dickens's characters, such as Rose Maylie and Little Nell.

Catherine and Charles had ten children. Obviously, that was not an easy job for Catherine to keep up with, so another sister of hers, Georgina, moved in. Georgina was a big help to the tired Catherine. Meanwhile, the relationship between Dickens and his wife was growing tense. Raising children cost money, and Charles was now having money-troubles. He blamed the birth of his kids on Catherine. His wife was growing older, just as he was, and he did not find her attractive anymore. She also became fatter—but what do you expect after ten kids‽

In 1855, Charles got a letter in the mail. It was from a woman named Mrs. Winter. It turned out it was Maria Beadnell, who was obviously now married. They met each other, and Charles was surprised to see his childhood sweetheart in her forties—and yet, she was still preserved all of the youthful vivacity! His memories of her when she was young did not live up to the older woman he saw. Somewhat disappointed, I imagine, he didn't talk to her very much after that.

Ellen Ternan

In 1857, Charles, forty-five years old, fell in love with an actress named Ellen Ternan, who was eight-teen—about the same age of his daughter, Kate. (Classy, Charles. Very, very classy.) Ellen was charming and liked to read. Poor Catherine had lost Charles's affections (by this time, they didn't even share the same bedroom). Can you imagine Catherine's reaction when she opened the mail, and saw a beautiful bracelet addressed from her husband to some other girl? I would have been so angry, and I really don't blame Catherine if she was too. Although Charles denied his having an affair, it was all too obvious for his wife.

In 1858, the unhappy couple separated. This caused a scandal for Dickens. The children were, too, separated from their mother, except for Charley, the oldest. They never really talked again. On her deathbed, to her daughter, Kate, she gave her the love letters Charles had written to her. She said to her, “Give these to the British Museum, that the world may know he loved me once.”

Charles Dickens is, even today, a very influential and popular author. He has inspired countless writers with his famous, moralized works. Though he is surely a master in the art of literature, he is but an ignoramus when it comes to being a good husband.

Dickens as a young man, Daniel Maclise