The early period of female domination through the regency of the Queen-mother, Marie Anne of Austria, had made such an impression on Charles II. when young that he felt a horror at the sight of a petticoat, and turned aside when he met a lady. His former governess, the Marquesa de los Velez, had to wait six months to get a word from him. With such antipathy to women, it seemed improbable that he would regard with any favour the mention of marriage, but during the negotiations for an alliance with Marie Louise, this aversion suddenly changed, and, when the miniature of the Princess was sent to him, “he wore the picture on his heart, addressed fine speeches to it,” and as soon as he was informed that she was _en route_ for Spain, he set out to meet her. When Isabella, mother of Philip II., was, writes D’Israeli,[41] “ready to be delivered of him, she commanded that all the lights should be extinguished: that, if the violence of her pain should occasion her face to change colour, no one might perceive it. And when the midwife said, ‘Madam, cry out, that will give you ease,’ she answered, ‘How dare you give me such advice? I would rather die than cry out.’” In truth, the fads of sovereigns, with their royal etiquette, were frequently carried to such lengths as to make martyrs of them. According to another absurd story from the same source, Philip III., when seated by the fireside, was once nearly suffocated with heat from the large quantity of wood that the fire-maker had kindled; but “his grandeur would not suffer him to rise from the chair, and the domestics could not presume to enter the apartment, because it was against the etiquette. At length the Marquis de Potat appeared, and the King ordered him to damp the fire; but he excused himself, alleging that he was forbidden by the etiquette to perform such a function, for which the Duke d’Ussada ought to be called upon, as it was his business. The Duke was gone out, the fire burnt fiercer, and the King actually endured it rather than derogate from his dignity.” But, it is said, his blood was heated to such a degree that an erysipelas of the head appeared the next day, which, succeeded by a violent fever, carried him off in the twenty-fourth year of his reign. And what can be more ludicrous than the following: The palace was once on fire; a soldier who knew the King’s sister was in her apartment, and must inevitably have been consumed in a few minutes by the flames, rushed in at the risk of his life, and brought her out. But Spanish etiquette was wofully broken, and the loyal soldier was brought to trial and condemned to death. The Spanish princess, however, in consideration of the circumstance, condescended to pardon the soldier, and saved his life.[42] Churchill might indeed well exclaim-- “Spain gives us pride--which Spain to all the earth May largely give, nor fear herself a dearth.”