Tracy S. Morris

Quirky Mysteries, Screwball Fantasy and Sassy History

I Am Not Making This Up: Ep. 11 People Were Once Paid To Be Garden Gnomes. This Is A Thing That Happened.

Written By: Tracy - Feb• 20•17
Ornamental Hermit

This guy is one pointy hat away from being the Travelocity Garden Gnome


In the 18th century, the English took conspicuous consumption to a whole new level when they hired actual old men to live in their gardens as ornamental hermits. 
 

I Am Not Making This Up: Bigger Than The Beatles

Written By: Tracy - Feb• 13•17

When we look at Beatlemania or the way teenage girls lost it over Elvis, we tend to think that mania was invented along with rock and roll.  But pop phenomenons didn’t start with pop.  Here are several historical figures who were bigger than the Beatles

 
Jenny Lind
 
Jenny LindBy the time she was 30, Jenny Lind was the most famous opera singer in Europe.  She had such tremendous range and vocal clarity that when she sang for Queen Victoria the monarch threw flowers at her feet.  Lind – dubbed the Swedish Nightingale- signed a contract with master promoter P.T. Barnum for a North American tour.  
 
Barnum made sure that Lind was a household name before she stepped off the boat in 1850. 
 
As Jenny Lind Mania swept the country, people named bridges, roads, buildings and other edifices after her.  As well as beds, bonnets and pies.  Look around your own city.  There may be some street or bridge named after her. 
 
Or google “Jenny Lind Bed.”  It’s a thing.  Not unlike a Beetles haircut. 
 
Franz Liszt
 
LisztImagine being so popular that fan fever actually becomes codified as a malady that people try to treat? This is what happened to the mania surrounding composer Franz Liszt.  
 
Liszt was a talented musician, mastering several instruments and composing his own music by age 11.  
 
In 1839, he began an extensive tour of Europe.  Around Christmas 1841, devotees serenaded Liszt with his own music. This is generally thought of as the beginning of Lisztomania. 
 
People who know about Beatlemania will find this familliar:  
 
Lisztomania was defined as a “histerical” reaction to Liszt and his concerts.  Fans claimed that his concerts brought about spiritual extacy.  Fans swarmed Liszt in the streets, and collected his cast off handkerchiefs and gloves, locks of his hair, even his discarded coffee grounds or cigar stubs. 
 
But unlike Beatlemania – which was just seen as a fad – people actually thought you could catch Lisztomania like a cold.
 
The Marquis de Lafayette 
 
LafayetteThe 1820s was a lot like the 2000 oughts: veterans were dying off, and citizens had a great respect and nostalgia for the wartime, and the veterans who served.  In the oughts, veterans of WWII became The Greatest Generation. In the 1820’s nostalgia transformed into mania when The Marquis de Lafayette toured the United States.
 
The for a short time, the visit united a country barreling down the road toward Civil war. 
 
During the visit, fans of the last surviving French Revolutionary War general named cities like Fayetteville North Carolina after him.  Ladies wore gloves and carried fans with his image on them. He received several honorary degrees, and numerous statues and parks dedicated in his honor.  
 

 

And just like monuments dedicated to Jenny Lind, There is probably one near you.  
 

I Am Not Making This Up: Ep. 10 The Littlest Pirate

Written By: Tracy - Feb• 06•17
Like Peter Pan, only Real.

Like Peter Pan, only Real.


Lots of kids talk about running away to join the circus or become pirates.  But few actually do it.
 
However in 1716, one boy did.  His name as John King, and he was around ten years old.  

I’m Not Making This Up: The Search For Blackbeard’s Head

Written By: Tracy - Jan• 30•17
In my last article I wrote about the facts of Edward Teach A.K.A. Blackbeard’s life.  But a man with as big a reputation as Blackbeard is bound to have a number of tall tales about him.  

If you put it back when you were finished with it, you wouldn’t have lost it!

Even though Blackbeard has been dead for nearly three centuries, new tall tales continue to spring up.  Most notably, tales that surround the whereabouts of his head. I’ll get to that. But first, let’s examine the other tall tales. 
 
During his life, Blackbeard was rumored to have had as many as 18 common law wives.  He was said to have shot Israel Hands, a member of his own crew, saying “if I don’t shoot one or two now and then, you’ll forget who I was.” 
 
Before he died he was said to have had a fabulous treasure.  He was rumored to have said that only he and the Devil knew where it was “and the longest liver can take it.”
 
None of this is probably true.  There is no evidence that Blackbeard murdered anyone (outside of his final battle). Instead he preferred to cultivate his reputation and let fear do his work for him.  
 
Blackbeard probably also never had a huge chest of gold coins (or many of them buried across beaches stretching from the Carolinas down to Nassau).  His ransom demand during the blockade of Charleston was for a chest of medicine.  
 

Possibly Blackbeard’s skull.


After Lieutenant Robert Maynard and his men killed Blackbeard, they’d found that his camp was filled with trade goods taken from merchant ships – indigo, cotton, sugar and cocoa.  Most of this was auctioned off to pay for the expedition to end his pirate threat. 
 
When Blackbeard was killed and beheaded, his body was thrown overboard.  According to legend, the headless body swam circles around the ship where Maynard hung Blackbeard’s head. Some people say that the body still swims the area, now known as Teach’s Hole, in search for it’s head. 
 
The head was put on a pole outside Hampton, Virginia as a warning to others against piracy.  From there, the head disappears from the official record.  But, like the rest of the famous pirate, there are legends. 
 
Lore of the Carolina-Virginia area says that pirates stole Blackbeard’s skull and made it into a drinking bowl or a cup. In some accounts, the vessel is covered in silver and engraved with the words “Deth to Spotswoode.” 

From there, Blackbeard’s skull was said to be so many places, it could have been doing a publicity tour for the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie. 

Also possibly Blackbeard’s skull.


Among the stories floating around, the skull:
  • Was used as a punch bowl in the Raleigh Tavern in Williamsburg and may still buried under the tavern. 
  • Well-to-do Virginians passed the drinking vessel/skull around at parties like some kind of gruesome party favor. 
  • Became part of initiation rites for any number of college fraternities or secret societies (including the Freemasons) in Virginia, or possibly Connecticut. 
  • Is part of a collection of artifacts at the Peabody-Essex Museum in Salem Massachusetts. 
  • Was part of a tour of artifacts at the San Diego Maritime Museum.
  • North Carolina Historian Charles Whedbee claimed to have drank from the skull during a secret ritual while visiting Ocracoke Island in the 1930’s.

Also, also possibly Blackbeard’s skull.


In truth, the whereabouts of Blackbeard’s skull can’t be pinpointed.  The skull in the museum is not on display, and is now thought not to be authentic. What is more likely is that Blackbeard’s skull was eventually discarded. It, like the rest of Blackbeard, is now probably lost to the ages. 

 

  

I Am Not Making This Up: That Time Virginia invaded North Carolina

Written By: Tracy - Jan• 23•17
The coasts of the Carolinas are an ideal places to be a pirate.  The whole area is dotted with barrier islands where a pirate ship can hide, then slip out, attack a passing merchant vessel and run away again.

Captain! Captain Jack Sparrow!

So it’s not too surprising that the most notorious of all pirates (no, not Jack Sparrow) made his home here, and eventually died here as well. His name . . . Isn’t definitely known.  But it may have been Edward Teach or Thatch (Probably Thatch, but since Teach us the popular choice, that’s what I’m going to use).  We know him as Blackbeard.

We actually don’t know that much about Blackbeard.  During that time in history record keeping (or standardized spelling for that matter) wasn’t what it is today.
What we can guess is that he was born before about 1690 and that his family may have come from Bristol, England.
Like many Pirates, Teach may have gotten his start as a sailor in the Royal Navy before turning privateer during Queen Anne’s War (he eventually named one of his ships Queen Anne’s Revenge).
In those days, many pirates saw themselves as Robin Hood types, sticking it to the man. (Where the man was the ship owner or captain who had made his life miserable before. This might explain why pirate ships were run like a democracy, with elected rules and captains.)
Teach joined another pirate captain, Benjamin Hornigold (who, in a stroke of irony, eventually became a pirate hunter).
The pirate outfit under Hornigold eventually captured a second boat and became a fleet. By this point, Teach had worked his way up the outfit and was made captain of the second sloop. Then they took on a ship captained by another now-famous pirate, Stede Bonnet.
By the time the pirates of Hornigold’s fleet went their separate ways,  that fleet had grown to be 4 boats strong.
After parting ways with Hornigold, Teach captured a merchant vessel, outfitted it with 40 guns and named it the Queen Anne’s Revenge.
Teach then began a two-year reign of terror that would only end with his violent, bloody death.

Complete with pimp cane.

He cultivated his swagger by growing out his beard and hair, calling himself Blackbeard and putting lit cannon fuses into his beard and hat whenever his crew attacked another ship.  His reputation grew so that most captains would surrender as soon as he ran up his infamous pirate flag, a black flag that showed a demon skeleton hoisting an hourglass and spearing a bleeding heart.

He was also good at networking, rubbing elbows with notorious pirates such as Israel Hands (his second in command) and Calico Jack Rackham, and organizing an alliance of pirates capable of maintaining a short blockade of Charleston, South Carolina.
By this time he’d collected a flotilla of about 10 ships of varying size under his command, and named himself Commodore.
Despite what movies would have you believe, most pirates (Blackbeard included) didn’t have a chest filled with treasure buried  on some deserted island (Blackbeard’s ransom demand in the Charleston blockade was for a chest of medicine).
Merchant vessels usually carried goods that pirates could sell in the colonies.  Blackbeard would plunder the goods, take them back to his home in the Outer Banks and sell them.
Blackbeard’s presence appealed to the residents of North Carolina.  The colony was poor compared to Virginia, sparsely populated and the residents were spread out.  Blackbeard brought with him enough well armed men that they could help repel Native American attacks, and their presence injected trade goods into the local economy.
So the Governor of North Carolina pardoned him and his men, and Blackbeard settled in Bath, then the capital of North Carolina and set up camp near Ocracoke Island, where they could slip out to sea and plunder passing vessels.
But the colonial administrations outside of the Carolinas weren’t quite as benevolent.  Governor Alexander Spotswood of Virginia decided that he’d had enough of Blackbeard and sent two sloops of men under the command of Lieutenant Robert Maynard (Or Leftenant, as he would have been called at this time.) to deal with the infamous pirate. Technically the Governor of Virginia was invading North Carolina to kill a man who had already been pardoned.  But eh. The laws are more like guidelines when dealing with piracy, anyway.
The sloops caught up with Blackbeard and his crew near Ocracoke Island (by this point the Queen Anne’s Revenge had sunk and Blackbeard was using a ship called the Adventure).

All this needs is a John Williams soundtrack.

After a fierce battle that would make Errol Flynn jealous, Blackbeard was stabbed, shot and finally slashed across the throat before dying.

All total, Blackbeard had been shot five times and stabbed at least 20.  Teach was beheaded, his body thrown overboard and his head hung from the bowsprit.
But that’s not the end of the story.

I Am Not Making This Up: Ep. 9 That Time Edwin Booth Could Have Changed Everything

Written By: Tracy - Jan• 16•17
The Fabulous Booth Brothers

The one and only time all three acting Booth brothers appeared on stage together.

Let’s talk a little about Edwin Booth.  People don’t remember the other two Booth brothers.  John Wilkes Booth casts a long shadow.  And when they do, it’s because Edwin once rescued Robert Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln’s son, from being crushed by a train. There’s a certain neatness in the symmetry of that. One brother saves a son, while the other murders a father. 

But there was a time when Edwin’s name outshone his more infamous brother.  There was a time when, by the right word or the right action, Edwin might have put his brother on a different path.  

 

I Am Not Making This Up: Coins As Propaganda

Written By: Tracy - Jan• 09•17

All through history, I’ve read accounts of rulers and wannabe rulers who minted their own coins.  But I rarely stopped to think of the reasons why beyond assuming it was some kind of prestige thing. 

Coin bearing the likenesses of Ferdinand and Isabella

But when I wrote my article on Joanna La Loca (Joan the Mad, in English), it struck me that both Joan’s father King Ferdinand and her husband Philip the Handsome had coins minted that showed them co ruling alongside Joan.  It hit me that Ferdinand didn’t need prestige. As ruler of several nations already, he had all the prestige he needed.  This was a propaganda move. 

Webster’s Dictionary defines propaganda as the spread of ideas to either help your own cause or harm another’s cause. 

Money may be one of the oldest, most effective forms of propaganda.  It’s portable. Most people have at least some of it. And we look at it so often that we rarely think about it. What better way to disseminate your message, and get your target to internalize it?

No one is exactly sure when coins came into use, but scholars believe it was in Ancient Greece. Prior to that, ancient cultures relied on either a barter economy (where you exchange this for that.  I’ll trade you that cow for these magic beans), or a gifting economy (thanks for killing Grendel, Beowulf.  Here are some lovely parting gifts).

Coins probably came into use once merchants needed to keep track of IOU units (this is my token. The bearer may exchange it for three bags of grain). From the perspective of a trader, coins made more sense. They were portable and universal.  Not everyone wants three bags of grain. So if you want a new sword, but the craftsman doesn’t want your grain, it’s easier to give them coins than to find someone who wants your grain, and has something the craftsman wants.

A coin bearing the image of Marcus Aurelius.

And once local economies shifted from food rent economies, having a system of coinage made it easier to collect taxes. After all, a bag of coins lasts a lot longer than a storehouse of grain. 

Plus – and this is a big plus – when you mint your own coins, you get to keep part of the gold yourself.  So early kings and emperors literally made money while they made money. 

From there, it’s a short leap from paying in coins or tokens stamped with your name, to paying in coins or tokens stamped with your message. 

The oldest coin archaeologists have found is over 2,700 years old.  The coin, which dates from a Hellenic city in Asia Minor, is stamped with a lion, the symbol of the ruling king.  

Even the word “money” comes from ancient Roman sources. (the Romans adopted the notion of using coins because the Greeks did it.  That was the basis for a lot of Roman decisions.  What would the Greeks do?) The mint in Ancient Rome was located in the temple of Juno Moneta. 

Often the citizens of Rome learned they had a new emperor when his picture turned up on coins. One emperor who ruled for less than a year had two different coins struck with his picture on it.  Prior to the time of Julius Ceaser, only images of the gods had appeared on coins.  By putting his own image on coins, Ceaser attempted to equate his image with the gods. 

Later, when the culture shifted the official state religion from polytheism to Christianity under Emperor Constantine, the early Christian Chi Ro symbol was stamped on the backs of coins. 

Inevitably, when societies get around to making their own money again, they also try shaping public opinion through the money.  Look at any currency in circulation today. In most countries, the money is printed with images of past or present great leaders, as well as symbols that represent that country.

The Santa Clause Note

American money has undergone many changes through the years.  At one point some of it featured Santa Clause to convey the idea of generosity. The words “in God we trust” were added during the Cold War to counter Soviet Atheism. 

But it’s not all propaganda.  From 1999 to 2008, the US Mint released quarters with state symbols on the backs as a way of encouraging people to get into coin collecting (and to raise a little more money for the treasury by having collectors taking coins out of circulation).  The program is the most successful in history, and was followed up with a National Parks series for collectors. 

Who knows? Maybe before the coin-collecting bubble bursts, we’ll see a set of US president quarters. 

 

I Am Not Making This Up: Ep. 8 Why Some People Hate History

Written By: Tracy - Jan• 02•17

Founding fathers.

I’m sure that’s exactly how it happened.

Until you saw the musical Hamilton, You probably got the impression that the founding fathers all got along and always knew exactly what they were doing.  That’s because people like to tell stories.  

Whenever a big event happens, usually before the dust even settles the media is casting events in terms of narrative. Narritaves help us understand what has happened, and in a way, it helps us relate to events. 

 Over time these stories take on legendary qualities. 

I Am Not Making This Up: Special Announcement

Written By: Tracy - Dec• 26•16

notmakingitupIf you don’t have a lot of patience to listen to the audio, it says that starting next week, I’ll be producing the I Am Not Making This Up podcast twice a month instead of only once.  From now on, look for it on the first and third Monday of every month.

 

I Am Not Making This Up: Joan the Mad of Castile’s Epic Farewell Tour

Written By: Tracy - Dec• 19•16

Say Jerry Springer came to you with a time machine (Tardis, DeLorean, whatever) and a mission: to travel back in time and bring him the most dysfunctional people you can find to guest star on his show.  

Who would you bring? The Tudors? The Kennedys? 

Sadly for Joan, this is not the point where the Goblin King took Phillip away to his kingdom where everything was sunshine and puppies.

Possibly.  But you really couldn’t go wrong if you made a stopover in Spain and grabbed Queen Juana the I of Castile. History remembers her as Joan the Mad. Though whether she deserves that title is up for debate.

Joan’s parents are Spain’s original power couple, Ferdinand and Isabella. The ones who gave Christopher Columbus financial backing.  To understand some parts of this story, you need a little information on them.  Especially Isabella.  

There are three Isabellas in this story.  Joan’s mother, Isabella of Castile, Joan’s grandmother Isabella of Portugal and Joan’s sister, Isabella of Aragon.  I know it’s confusing, but try to keep them straight. 

Isabella of Castile’s mother, Isabella of Portugal is credited with “bringing madness into the line of Spain.”  She suffered from what was probably postpartum depression after the birth of the future Isabella of Castile. 

Isabella of Castile and Ferdinand of Aragon were an ideal power couple.  They were extremely devout and politically savvy. They would have had to have been, to maintain control of their fragmented kingdoms Spain didn’t become united Spain until the time of their grandson Charles I. Prior to that, they were “the Spanish kingdoms,” or “the Spains.” Similar to the way that Dallas and Fort Worth are two separate cities,yet we call them both the Dallas-Fort Worth area.

Both Ferdinand and Isabella were extremely devout Catholics. Under their rule, they expelled all Muslim people from the Iberian peninsula (the Reconquista), and forced all Jews to either convert to Christianity or leave their lands. They also started the Spanish Inquisition. (Which, despite what you see on Monty Python,  everyone pretty much expected.)

And they were rich. In addition to all the gold they got from the new world, they also got lots of money and power from converting or expelling all the Jews and Muslims from Spain. 

(As a side note, Joan’s younger sister was Catherine of Aragon, The first of King Henry VIII’s wives. Part of the reason Henry couldn’t just execute Catherine was that her family back in Spain was so powerful and wealthy.)

This is the environment that Joan grew up in: über religious and highly controlled.

Tiny Joan. Perhaps wondering why her skeleton is inside her.

From an early age, People thought Joan was a melancholy child – similar in temperament to Isabella’s crazy mother Isabella of Portugal. One story says that Little Joan once asked her governess if she could try on her skeleton.  When her nurse told her that it was already inside her, Little Joan broke into a truly epic sobbing tantrum. 

But no one could deny that Joan was brilliant. With the formidable Isabella overseeing their educations, the infantas of Castile and Aragon were possibly the most well-educated women in all of Europe.  Joan could speak seven languages, play three instruments as well as all traditional courtly feminine pursuits from dancing and needlepoint to horsemanship hawking and hunting.  She also excelled in her classical education, which included literature, cannon and civil law, heraldry, mathematics, history, genealogy, grammar and writing. 

Some stories say Joan was skeptical of certain aspects of her religious teachings, which was taken as an early sign of her encroaching insanity (because questioning the church got you tortured in those days). Not wanting word to get around that Joan might be inclined to insanity or worse, heretical thought, her mother ordered the rumors hushed up. 

Other stories say that Joan wanted to be a nun, but her parents insisted she marry to cement political alliances.

What is known is that Joan was a third child, so her parents never expected her to inherit their thrones.  Instead they put her in a very advantageous marriage with Phillip the Handsome, Hapsburg ruler of The Low Countries and the son of Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor. (In theory, the Holy Roman Emperor was chief monarch of all the European monarchs as dictated by the Catholic Church.  In practice, not really an empire, not really Roman, debatably holy.) 

On paper, this seemed like a good idea. Joan was a smart girl. She and her advisors might be able to exert some influence on Phillip and his court, maybe shift them away from French influence. 

Young Joan. Perhaps pouting over the unfairness of all the blondes in the world.

But Joan and Phillip got along like a house fire: they wanted to burn each other to the ground.  You know those couples who seem to thrive on chaos? That’s Phillip and Joan: The Sid and Nancy of the Renaissance. 

Phillip was in lust with Joan.  But then, he was in lust with every pretty woman who crossed his path (especially the blondes). And Joan was obsessed with Phillip.  So whenever his attention wandered (which It always did), Joan got it back by picking a fight with  his new favorite and him by extension. Then Phillip got even  by avoiding her.   Joan would cry all night, wander around her bedroom, bump into walls. She just couldn’t accept that Phillip just wasn’t as into her as he was into partying, drinking and blondes. 

Isabella’s advisors reported back to her that Joan’s temperament isolated her from everyone at court.  Which made it unlikely that she’d be able to exert much influence.  

In the period between 1497 and 1500, Joan gave birth to a girl and a boy (Eleanor and Charles). So yay! The Low Countries have an heir and a spare!

But then Joan’s two older siblings Juan and Isabella of Aragon died, along with their children (not with each other). Then Joan’s baby brother Miguel also died, making Joan the heir to Castile, Aragon and all of their holdings (that whole Columbus discovered a new world thing).  A bit worrying to Ferdinand and Isabella that their new heir was off in Flanders, instead of under their thumb here in good old Future-Spain. 

So Isabella asked Joan to come for a visit, and bring the husband!

Joan and Phillip didn’t exactly rush to pack a bag.  First Joan waited until the birth of her next daughter.  Then she and Phillip left their children behind and headed out.  They spent some time visiting Joan’s sister Catherine in England.  Then they stopped for a visit with the French king in Blois, paused in Burgos to take in a bull fight and finally (finally) arrived in Toledo. 

Phillip hated Spain. His in-laws were stuffy and too religious, the climate was too hot, the church ceremonies were never-ending and there never seemed to be a chance for skirt chasing.  The Spanish either kept their women locked up, or chaperoned them everywhere. 

Then he got measles.  

By the time he was better, Joan was pregnant again.  Phillip had enough and decided to leave without her. 

Ferdinand and Isabella. Looking nothing like Sigourney Weaver and Armand Assante.

Joan wanted to go after Philip.  Without her around, he’d surround himself with all kinds of other women.  (Blonde women!) But Isabella worried about pregnant Joan, trying to make her way across war-torn Europe overland.  She insisted that Joan stay on and learn how to be a queen for her future kingdom.

Plus, I can’t state how emphatically Isabella hated Phillip.  They would be comparable to oil and water, but only if you lit the oil on fire. 

She was devout and religious and he was a skirt chasing drunk who barely gave lip service to the Church.  And he had considerable influence over Joan, despite how awful he treated her.  So if Joan became queen, Phillip would be the real power behind the throne.  

Maybe there was a lot of personal dislike in there as well.  After all, Phillip treated Joan badly. And Joan’s infatuation with Phillip seemed to make her crazy (like Glen Close in Fatal attraction). 

So perhaps keeping Joan in Castile would lesson Phillip’s hold on her. Whatever happened, Joan’s parents had her confined to La Mota Castle, where she slipped into depression (doctors called it lovesickness).  They hoped she’d get better once the baby was born, but she actually got worse (with what was probably postpartum depression). 

One story says that Joan tried to escape, barefoot and in her night clothes, only to find the city gates shut before her.  She threw herself against the gates until exhausted, cursing anyone who tried to restrain her. When Queen Isabella showed up, Joan cursed her as well. This is where most historians mark the beginning of the end for Joan’s freedom. 

Eventually Ferdinand and Isabella let Joan return to Flanders, but gave Phillip permission to restrain Joan if she got too crazy. 

As the saying goes, give Phillip an inch, and he’ll take a mile. Within a month he had Joan locked up for abusing the other women in his life. (Reportedly, she forced one blonde rival to cut her hair so she’d be less attractive to Phillip.) In protest of her confinement, Joan went on a hunger strike and spent her time brewing love potions. 

Phillip and Joan might’ve continued on their crazy cycle of making up, Phillip neglecting Joan, the two of them fighting, lather, rinse repeat indefinitely if not for Isabella’s death. 

Isabella wanted to keep Phillip off the throne of her country so badly that on her death bed she made a tiny change to her will.  One that said that if Joan wasn’t fit to rule, Ferdinand would do so as regent.

At that point, Joan became a political football between her husband and father, each trying to rule as regent in her place.  Back in the days before mass media, minting coins was political propaganda. You may never see your ruler in person, but you know who it is because their face is on the coins you spend. So Ferdinand had coins minted with his and Joan’s pictures as co-rulers on them. Then Phillip did the same. 

Ferdinand had the courts declare him regent, so Phillip and Joan headed to Spain to sort the matter out.  When they got there, Phillip and Ferdinand sorted it out without her.  When Joan protested, the two of them tried to have her declared Incompetent. 

Coming to a town near you.

Then Phillip died.  Joanna, mad from grief, had Phillip’s body embalmed.  According to stories she did a Weekend At Bernie’s with the body all over Spain in a truly epic farewell tour. 

Rumors say that she was so afraid of other women trying to take her husband for themselves that she traveled only at night, staying in monasteries (never nunneries).  One story says that the royal entourage had to take shelter one night due to a storm. When Joan found out that the building they sheltered in was a nunnery, she insisted on leaving. 

But the story that raised the most eyebrows is that she would stop to have the casket opened so she could caress, kiss and look at her husband’s body. 

Whether any of this is true is all up for speculation.  It’s known that she did open the casket at least once to verify that Phillip’s body was still in it. 

This ended when Ferdinand returned to Castile.  He ordered Joan confined to the Palace of Tordesillas.  Joan protested in what was probably the only way she could: she refused to bathe or eat. 

Joan spent the rest of her life confined to the same castle.  She was kept away from exterior rooms so she couldn’t escape and her guards had permission to “give her the strap” if she misbehaved. She refused to eat in anyone’s presence, so her meals of only bread and cheese were left outside her door. 

Charming.

From Ferdinand’s perspective, keeping Joan confined made sense.  The nobles of Castile barely tolerated him.  Joan’s freedom would undermine his authority in Castile. rival factions could make her a figurehead in an attempt to overthrow him. Not to mention that if someone else managed to marry her (and Henry VII expressed some interest in doing just that) they could try to claim the throne for themselves. 

“How about some Matchbox 20?”

Even after Ferdinand died, Joan’s confinement continued under her son Charles.  In fact, things got worse for Joan.  Her one comfort up to this point was that she got to raise her youngest daughter Catalina. (Catherine in English. Possibly named after Joan’s sister Catherine.)  But after Charles came to power Catalina married John III of Portugal and Joan was abandoned. 

Later, during a plague outbreak, Charles told her that she needed to be kept indoors for her own safety.  He then had fake funeral processions walk past the castle several times a day to make her think the plague was as bad as he said.  

At one point, Joan had a brief taste of freedom when some rebels took the castle.  But by this point Joan was so mistrustful that she refused to deal with them or sign anything. Charles retook the castle and it was back to confinement for Joan. 

Joan died in 1555 at age 75.  By that point she had been a prisoner for nearly 50 years, was paralyzed from the waist down and suffered painful ulcers on her legs. 

So was Joan actually insane?  By today’s standards, she probably suffered from mood swings and depression.  In letters Joan wrote defending her actions, she claimed just to have a hot temper. And after being locked away from the sun and gaslighted by trusted family members for almost 50 years, anyone might go insane.

It’s probable that Joan’s insanity was exaggerated, first by her husband who hoped Isabella of Castile would let him rule in Joan’s place. Then by her father and finally by her son.  After all, would they have let her raise her daughter if she was insane?

On the other hand, Joan’s grandmother Isabella of Portugal was known to be mentally unstable, as was Joan’s sister Isabella of Aragon and many of her descendants.

 (Her son Charles was said to have suffered a mild depression when he learned that she had died, but I would take that with a grain of salt considering that they were virtual strangers to one another and Charles also had severe gout. )

So the answer is probably a little bit of both.