There is a house – but not in New Orleans

I had the pleasure of visiting a magnificent renaissance palace earlier this year, the Casa de Pilatos in Sevilla. There, on a wall, I found the quartered royal arms of France and Castile. As you all know by now, I am something of a history nerd, so I immediately started casting my mind back to try and work out just who it was who carried those arms. It took me some time, but after an hour of considering this (no cheating, no googling) I concluded that this had to have something to do with the disinherited Infantes de La Cerda, Alfonso and Fernando. Why? Because their father was the eldest son of Alfonso X and their mother was Blanche of France, daughter of Louis IX.

“How exciting!” I said to hubby. “This means they somehow made it back to Castile, settled here.”

The eldest infante, Alfonso was to live out most of his adult life in France, this after several futile attempts to regain his throne. However, he and his brother were awarded significant lands in Castile in the early fourteenth century—assuming they relinquished their claim on the Castilian throne. By then, Alfonso and his brothers were sanguine enough to realise that while they would always find support among the discontented, ultimately the Castilian nobles viewed them as foreigners.

Fernando de la Cerda did return to Castile and married one of the richest heiresses in Spain, Juana Nuñez de Lara. They would have several children, their eldest, Juan Nuñez de Lara, destined to become a major, major burr up King Alfonso XI’s arse. One of Fernando’s daughters, Blanca Nuñez de Lara, was wed to Infante Juan Manuel and was the mother of Juana Manuel, future matriarch of the Trastámara dynasty. Some sort of divine justice, one could say: the brother of the disinherited Alfonso was the grandfather of the future Queen Juana.

Now, Fernando has NOTHING to do with today’s house, so we will leave him and his descendants for now – but Juan Nuñez de Lara will require a post of his own, methinks.

Back to France, where Alfonso married Mahaut of Brienne and had issue. Over time, most of his children would make lives for themselves in Castile, likely as a consequence of Alfonso being a major landowner in his former homeland, capable of dowering his daughters with properties, while ensuring his sons were rich enough to attract the attention of other Castilian families. Plus, of course, being a de la Cerda and a direct descendant of the House of Ivrea, added a certain cachet in Castile, not so much in France.

One of Alfonso’s sons was called Luis. In 1306, at the age of fifteen or so, he was wed to Leonor Pérez de Guzmán y Coronel, daughter of Alonso Perez de Guzmán el Bueno, who sometimes is called ”El de Tarifa” as he held Tarifa against his besiegers, even when they slaughtered his young son in front of the walls. Neither here nor there.

Luis and his new wife were to have many children, but at least five died very young. One of his sons was executed by King Pedro for joining one of the many rebellions against him, and Luis’ surviving daughter, Isabel de la Cerda , was married to a Rodrigo Pérez Ponce de Leon when she was fifteen. There was no issue, but when her first hubby died, Isabel married again, this time to Gaston III de Foix’s bastard son, Bernard. We are now in 1370, and the forty-year-old Isabel had no living issue—but she did have a claim on the Castilian throne, a sensitive issue given that the new king, Enrique II, had recently murdered his half-brother, King Pedro, and taken the crown for himself. In return for never making any claims, Enrique gave Isabel more lands. He also made Bernard (who’d fought at his side against Pedro) Count of Medinaceli. This somnolent little town boasted a massive medieval fortress, where, several centuries earlier, the powerful Almanzor, ruler of Cordoba, had died. Anyway: with this marriage, one of the most powerful families in Castile (and the future Spain) was born, taking the heraldic arms of Luis de la Cerda as their own.

In case you’re wondering, Luis de la Cerda returned to France sometime in the mid 1330s. We know he attended the coronation of Alfonso XI in 1331. He was to amass a fortune over the years of serving Philippe VI of France, taking a very active part in the Hundred Years’ War. So did some of his relatives, in particular Charles de la Cerda, his nephew, who was to suffer a humiliating defeat at sea at the hands of the English.

In 1344, the pope issued a bull, making Luis prince of the Fortunate Islands (Canary Islands) He was to rule undisputed over these new lands—but the pope expected him to pay for the conquest and conversion of the wild natives. Luis never made it to his new dominions. He died in 1348.

Back to Isabel and Bernard: despite her advanced age, Isabel gave Bernard a son, Gastón. As the years went by, a sequence of men named Luis or Gastón inherited the titles and lands of their ancestors while adding more lands and more honours—in the late 15th century, Luis de la Cerda IV was made Duke of Medinaceli. Initially, those lands did not include the gorgeous Casa de Pilates. The de la Cerda family would not acquire this spectacular property until the 17th century, when a descendant of Isabel and Gastón wed a certain Ana Maria Luisa Enriquez de Ribera Portocarrera y Cardenas. I know: looooong name. Spanish practice has children taking a double surname: their father’s and their mother’s maiden name. Spanish women tend to keep their surnames, adding a “de XX” to their own name once they wed. So, my mother who was Birgitta Marklund in Sweden because she’d married Ingvar Marklund, was Birgitta Servin de Marklund in South America, Servin being her maiden name. I would have been Anna Marklund Servin—now Anna Marklund Servin de Belfrage, and my kids would have been XX Belfrage Marklund.

Obviously, you’re not here to get an eyeful of names, so let us get back to Ana Maria Luisa. She too had royal blood, being a descendant of Fadrique of Castile. Fadrique was born in 1333, the younger twin brother of the fratricide Enrique II. Their father was Alfonso XI, their mother the king’s beloved mistress, Leonor de Guzmán. At the time of their birth, no one assumed they’d ever be more than entitled noblemen—the king was generous with his illegitimate sons—but things would happen, blood would flow, and Enrique would one day wear the crown.

Some of the blood that flowed belonged to the unfortunate Fadrique. He had from an early age been appointed Grand Master of the Order of Santiago and was therefore not allowed to wed. This did not stop him from enjoying carnal pleasures which is how he had several children by 1357 when his half-brother, Pedro I, had him bludgeoned to death in the Alcazar de Sevilla.

I imagine there followed some harrowing years for Fadrique’s offspring, but in 1369, Enrique II was more than happy to take care of his two (or three) little nephews and niece. For the purpose of this post, it is Alonso Enriquez, at most three when his daddy was murdered, who is interesting. Alonso Enriquez ?, some of you may think, shouldn’t that be Alonso Fadriquez ? I totally agree, but Fadriquez does not seem to exist as a patronym—it becomes Enriquez instead.

Young Alonso was to rise through the ranks of Castilian noblemen under the supervision of his uncle. He was to become Admiral of Castile, a title that was to be passed down to his ancestors In 1386 or thereabouts he married Juana de Mendoza, a very rich widow of impeccable lineage, and they were to have fourteen (!!!!) children. The eldest was named Fadrique and he would  father a future queen of Aragon (Juana Enriquez) who would in turn give birth to Fernando of Aragon, one half of the dynamic duo Isabel and Fernando, a.k.a. The Most Catholic Kings. Fadrique also had sons, and his second son, Pedro Enriquez, was to wed two sisters: first, he married Beatriz  de Ribera who died in 1469. Some years later, he married Catalina de Ribera, and it is Pedro and Catalina who lay the foundations of the Casa de Pilatos.

On September 27, 1483 Pedro and Catalina purchased the lands on which Casa de Pilatos now stands. The gardens, windmills and various buildings had been confiscated by the Inquisition due to the heresy of the previous owners, and all such confiscated goods were transferred to the crown who then happily sold it on. At the time, the main houses had access to running water, which, by all accounts, was not considered much of a novelty.

In 1492, Pero died after having participated in the final conquest of Granada. His wife continued investing in the palace they had begun constructing together, and by the early 16th century, Casa de Pilatos (as yet not known under that name) passed to their son, Fadrique Enriquez de Ribera.

Fadrique belonged to a new type of nobleman. No longer principally warriors involved in the Reconquista (the fall of Granada ended the Reconquista) , the new generation of nobles were educated intellectuals, men who spent minor fortunes on gorgeous homes, on art, on books. Fadrique went to the Holy Land on a pilgrimage and returned with a clear idea of how he was to redesign his parents’ house, incorporating antique elements that blend almost seamlessly with the bright Morisco tiling, the latticed stonework and the burbling fountains that sit in the courtyards.

By the time Fadrique died, his home, the Palace of the Marquez of Tarifa, was something of a jewel. As Fadrique had no children, the house passed down his nephew, Per Afán de Ribera, whose marriage was not blessed with children either. As an aside, Per Afán did have a natural son, Juan de Ribera, who was to play a central (and anything but complimentary) role in the expulsion of the Moriscos from Spain in 1609. Despite being a priest, this Juan advocated that it would be better to enslave the Moriscos rather than exile them—they were no better than animals. Nice guy…

Per Afán had a brother, Fernando Enriquez de Ribera, who married Hernán Cortéz’s daughter, yet another Juana. It was their great-granddaughter, Ana Maria Luisa, who brought the Casa de Pilatos to the de la Cerda family in the early 17th century. She married Antonio Juan Luis de la Cerda in 1625. She was thirteen, he was nineteen. When she died at the age of 32, she left her husband with four children, two sons and two daughters.

Anna Maria Luisa’s eldest son, Juan Francisco de la Cerda, made yet another advantageous marriage. Juan Francisco’s wife, Catalina, gave him twelve children. But only two of them were boys, and one of those boys died young, leaving Luis Francisco de la Cerda to carry the burden of continuing the proud de la Cerda lineage.

When Luis Francisco inherited all his father’s titles and wealth, he was the richest man in Spain, and also considered one of the most powerful. But Luis Francisco lived in a time of upheaval. Spain had its first Bourbon king who had a tendency to promote French men to positions of power. Luis wasn’t all that thrilled by this, or by thee increasing  French influence—which may be why he passed intelligence to the English. Things did not end well for Luis Francisco, who died imprisoned in 1711. His two young children died before they came of age, and so the huge collection of titles, all those lands, all that wealth, was to pass to his sister’s son, Nicolás Fernandez de Cordoba. After four centuries as one of the most powerful families in Spain, the de la Cerda family were no more.

Their descendants, however, still count among the most titled and prestigious of the Spanish noble families. And the Casa de Pilatos is available for us to visit because the of the Dukes of Medinaceli Foundation – a trust that ensures treasures such as this renaissance palace are maintained and cared for.