Queen Isabella, Part Three: The Woman

We’ve spent the past two weeks looking at Queen Isabella of Castile. We’ve seen her turbulent rise to power, and even more turbulent reign. We’ve looked at the facts of the events of her life, the important role she played in the history of Spain, Europe, and the world. But these events by themselves do not make her an example of valiant womanhood. Her wise political decisions alone are not the reason why there is currently a cause open for her canonization, and why she is recognized by the Vatican as a “servant of God.” In order to fully understand, and fully appreciate, Isabella’s great virtues, we must look at her through the lens of the Faith. We must see her as she saw herself—as a Catholic first, and a queen second.


In last week’s post I mentioned that when talking about the events of Isabella’s reign, we need to keep in mind that many of them overlapped in time. She didn’t always have the luxury of completing one major task before turning her attention to the next crisis. Similarly, the political events of her reign did not happen in a vacuum. While she was successfully ruling two vast kingdoms, she was also raising a family of five children and devoting much of her time to the practice of the Faith. She attended daily Mass, prayed the entire Divine Office daily, and spent many hours in Adoration. During one military campaign in particular, Isabella and her ladies in waiting kept a continual rotation of perpetual adoration.

Her first response in any trouble, and, as we have seen, she encountered many during her life, was to take the problem to Our Lord’s feet, place it there, and then act, trusting in God’s Providence to see her through. In every decision she made during her life, her primary aim was the glorification of God and His Church. From the Inquisition to her sponsorship of Columbus’s voyage, Isabella only desired to be God’s faithful instrument. After any great event, the birth of a child or a military victory, Isabella would walk in public procession (often barefooted) to the local cathedral or church, in order to give glory and praise to the Lord from Whom all blessings flow.

Motherhood was one of Isabella’s greatest joys, but it was also the source of her greatest sorrows. Isabella gave birth to five children who survived. Their first-born was a daughter, Isabella, born in 1470. Her second pregnancy ended in a miscarriage (this was during the War of Succession, when Isabella and Fernando were fighting against the Castilian forces which were loyal to Enrique’s daughter). Finally in 1478, Isabella gave birth to a son, Juan, and the following year she had a daughter, Juana. In 1482, Isabella gave birth to twin daughters, but one was stillborn. (This was during the war in Granada.) The surviving daughter was named Maria. Finally in 1485, their youngest child, Catalina was born. Although Fernando and Isabella were often forced to be away from their children in the early years, conducting military campaigns and establishing their power as monarchs, once their positions as king and queen were secure, they were able to devote more time and energy to their children.

Isabella recognized the importance of education, and she raised her children to be devout Christians and capable rulers. They were taught theology, civil and canon law, multiple languages, and music, and read the Church Fathers and works of classical Roman authors. As the heir to the thrones of Castile and Aragon, Juan’s education and upbringing was overseen more carefully than that of his sisters. Isabella selected Juan’s tutors, ensuring that they were intelligent, as well as virtuous role models for the young prince. She also hand-picked suitable companions for him from among the nobility, and insisted that they did not give him unfair advantages in games and sports. In this way, she hoped that the prince would be less proud and pampered as he grew older.

Isabella and Fernando knew that in order to preserve the peace and stability they had worked so hard to secure, Spain needed strong and virtuous monarchs, and alliances with other nations, brought about by marriages. In arranging marriages for their children, Isabella and Fernando certainly exercised political strategy, but they also took age into account, which was not a major consideration for every royal parent, and personality whenever possible, in the hopes that their children would find love in their marriages, as Isabella and Fernando had in theirs. To Isabella’s great distress, those marriages which were happiest were soon cut short by death, and those marriages which were miserable lasted longest.

Isabella, the oldest daughter, was married to Prince Alfonso, the heir to the throne of Portugal, and soon they fell truly in love. Alfonso died in a tragic hunting accident only six months after their wedding, and Isabella returned to her parents, heartbroken. Six years later, she married King Manuel of Portugal, who had succeeded Alfonso as heir. Only two years later she died in childbirth with their only son, who also died at the age of two. Prince Juan was married to Princess Margaret of Austria at the age of 19, and they, too, found love in marriage. Juan had always been sickly, though, and six months after their wedding, he died. When Isabella heard of the death of her dear son, she repeated the words of Job: “The Lord giveth, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.” A few months later, when the newly-widowed Margaret gave birth to a daughter, she was stillborn. Isabella was beside herself with grief. She had lost two children and two grandchildren in the space of five years.

Don Fernando and Doña Isabel. Rulers of Castile and Aragon.

These losses were not the only causes of Isabella’s grief, though. She was also greatly distressed for her daughter, Juana, who was now the heiress to the thrones of Castile and Aragon. In 1496, at the age of sixteen, she was married to Philip the Fair, Archduke of the House of Hapsburg, heir to the Holy Roman Empire. This marriage was an unhappy one, because although Juana was deeply in love with her husband, he did not return her affection, and instead preferred the arms of his mistresses to those of his wife. Juana slowly sunk deeper into depression and madness, and Isabella looked on, powerless to help her daughter. One comfort to Isabella was the happy and lasting marriage of her next oldest daughter, Maria. She was married to King Manuel of Portugal, her older sister Isabella’s widower, two years after Isabella’s death. They had ten children, eight of whom lived to adulthood, and though Maria died in childbirth after only seventeen years of marriage, Isabella was no longer on earth to mourn yet another loss. As for the fate of her youngest daughter, Catherine of Aragon, you’ll have to tune in next week to find out.

The majority of these sorrows all came close together, and they all contributed to weakening Isabella’s strength and resilience. During the last five years of her life, her health gradually declined, until she finally died in 1504 at the age of 53. When she heard that the people of Spain were going on pilgrimages in order to obtain a cure for their beloved queen, she asked that they pray for the salvation of her soul, rather than the health of her body. After she died, her secretary wrote to inform the Archbishop of Spain, and I’ll give him the last word: “The world has lost its noblest ornament… for she was the model of every virtue, the shield of the innocent, and an avenging sword to the wicked. I know none of her sex, in ancient or modern times, who in my judgment is at all worthy to be named with this incomparable woman.”