But the prince was no respecter of persons. Cardinal Espinosa, president

of the Council of Castile, and afterwards grand-inquisitor, banished a

player named Cisneros from the palace, where he was to have performed

that night for the prince's diversion. It was probably by Philip's

orders. But however that may be, Carlos, meeting the cardinal, seized

him roughly by the collar, and, laying his hand on his poniard,

exclaimed, "You scurvy priest, do you dare to prevent Cisneros from

playing before me? By the life of my father, I will kill you!"[1426] The

trembling prelate, throwing himself on his knees, was too happy to

escape with his life from the hands of the infuriated prince. Whether

the latter had his way in the end, in regard to the comedian, is not

stated. But the stuff of which a grand-inquisitor is made is not apt to

be of the yielding sort.

A more whimsical anecdote is told us by Nobili, the Tuscan ambassador,

then resident at the court. Carlos, having need of money, requested a

merchant, named Grimaldo, to advance him the sum of fifteen hundred

ducats. The money-lender readily consented, thanking the prince for the

favor done him, and adding, in the usual grandiloquent vein of the

Castilian, that "all he had was at his disposal."[1427] Carlos took him

at his word, and forthwith demanded a hundred thousand ducats. In vain

poor Grimaldo, astounded by the request, protested that "it would ruin

his credit; that what he had said was only words of compliment." Carlos

replied, "he had no right to bandy compliments with princes; and if he

did not in four and twenty hours pay the money to the last _real_, he

and his family would have cause to rue it." It was not till after much

negotiation that Ruy Gomez succeeded in prevailing on the prince to be

content with the more modest sum of sixty thousand ducats, which was

accordingly furnished by the unfortunate merchant.[1428] The money thus

gained, according to Nobili, was squandered as suddenly as it was got.

There are happily some touches of light to relieve the shadows with

which the portrait is charged. Tiepolo, who was ambassador from Venice

at the court of Madrid in 1567, when Carlos was twenty-two years old,

gives us some account of the prince. He admits his arrogant and fiery

temper, but commends his love of truth, and, what we should hardly have

expected, the earnestness with which he engaged in his devotions. He was

exceedingly charitable, asking, "Who would give, if princes did

not?"[1429] He was splendid in his way of living, making the most

liberal recompense, not only to his own servants, but to the king's, who

were greatly attached to him.[1430] He was ambitious of taking part in

the conduct of public affairs, and was sorely discontented when excluded

from them--as seems to have been usually the case--by his father.[1431]

It was certainly to the prince's credit, that he was able to inspire

those who approached him most nearly with strong feelings of personal

attachment. Among these were his aunt Joanna, the regent, and the queen,

Isabella, who, regarding him with an interest justified by the

connection, was desirous of seeing him married to her own sister. His

aunt Mary and her husband, the Emperor Maximilian, also held Carlos,

whom they had known in early days, in the kindest remembrance, and

wished to secure his hand for their eldest daughter. A still more

honorable testimony is borne by the relations in which he stood to his

preceptor, Honorato Juan, who, at the prince's solicitation, had been

raised to the bishopric of Osma. Carlos would willingly have kept this

good man near his own person. But he was detained in his diocese; and

the letters from time to time addressed to him by his former pupil,

whatever may be thought of them as pieces of composition, do honor to

the prince's heart. "My best friend in this life," he affectionately

writes at the close of them, "I will do all that you desire."[1432]

Unfortunately, this good friend and counsellor died in 1566. By his

will, he requested Carlos to select for himself any article among his

effects that he preferred. He even gave him authority to change the

terms of the instrument, and make any other disposition of his property

that he thought right![1433] It was a singular proof of confidence in

the testator, unless we are to receive it merely as a Spanish

compliment,--somewhat perilous, as the case of Grimaldo proves, with a

person who interpreted compliments as literally as Carlos.

From all this, there would seem to have been the germs of generous

qualities in the prince's nature, which, under a happier culture, might

have been turned to some account. But he was placed in that lofty

station which exposed him to the influence of parasites, who flattered

his pride, and corrupted his heart, by ministering to his pleasures.

From the eminence which he occupied, even the smallest errors and

eccentricities became visible to the world, and the objects of unsparing

criticism. Somewhat resembling his father in person, he was different

from him both in his good qualities and his defects, so that a complete

barrier was raised between them. Neither party could comprehend the

other; and the father was thus destitute of the means which he might

else have had of exerting an influence over the son. The prince's

dissipated way of life, his perpetual lapses from decorum, or, to speak

more properly, his reckless defiance of decency, outraged his father, so

punctilious in his own observance of the outward decencies of life. He

may well have dwelt on such excesses of Carlos with pain; but it may be

doubted if the prince's more honorable desire to mingle in public

affairs was to the taste of Philip, who was too tenacious of power

willingly to delegate it, beyond what was absolutely necessary, to his

own ministers. The conduct of his son, unhappily, furnished him with a

plausible ground for distrusting his capacity for business.

[Sidenote: HIS CONNECTION WITH THE FLEMINGS.]

Thus distrusted, if not held in positive aversion, by his father;

excluded from any share in the business of the state, as well as from a

military life, which would seem to have been well suited to his

disposition; surrounded by Philip's ministers, whom Carlos, with too

much reason, regarded as spies on his actions,--the unhappy young man

gave himself up to a reckless course of life, equally ruinous to his

constitution and to his character; until the people, who had hailed with

delight the prospect of a native-born prince, now felt a reasonable

apprehension as to his capacity for government.[1434]

But while thus an object of distrust at home, abroad more than one

sovereign coveted an alliance with the heir of the Spanish monarchy.

Catharine de Medicis would gladly have secured his hand for a younger

sister of Isabella, in which project she was entirely favored by the

queen. This was in 1565; but Philip, in his usual procrastinating

spirit, only replied, "They must reflect upon it."[1435] He looked with

a more favorable eye on the proposals warmly pressed by the emperor and

empress of Germany, who, as we have seen, still cherished a kindly

remembrance of Carlos, and wished his union with their daughter Anne.

That princess, who was a year younger than her cousin, claimed Spain as

her native land, having been born there during the regency of

Maximilian. But although the parties were of suitable age, and Philip

acquiesced in the proposals for their marriage, his want of confidence

in his son, if we may credit the historians, still moved him to defer

the celebration of it.[1436] Anne did indeed live to mount the throne of

Castile, but as the wife, not of Carlos, but of Philip, after the death

of Isabella. Thus, by a singular fatality, the two princesses who had

been destined for the son were each of them married to the father.

The revolutionary movement in the Netherlands was at this time the great

subject that engaged the attention of the Spaniards; and Carlos is

reported to have taken a lively interest in it. According to Antonio

Perez, the Flemings then at the court made positive overtures to the

prince to head the revolt.[1437] Strada speaks of Bergen and Montigny,

then at Madrid, as the channel of communication through which Carlos

engaged to settle the affairs of that distracted country.[1438] That a

person of his ardent temper should have felt sympathy with a people thus

bravely struggling for its liberties, is not improbable; nor would one

with whom "to think and to speak was the same thing,"[1439] be at all

unlikely to express himself on the subject with much more freedom than

discretion. And it may have been in allusion to this that his almoner,

Suarez, in a letter without date, implores the prince "to abandon his

dangerous designs, the illusion of the Evil One, which cannot fail to

bring mischief to himself and disquiet to the monarchy!"[1440] The

letter concludes with a homily, in which the good doctor impresses on

the prince the necessity of filial obedience, by numerous examples, from

sacred and profane story, of the sad end of those who had impiously

rejected the counsels of their parents.[1441]

But although it is true that this hypothesis would explain much that is

enigmatical in the subsequent history of Carlos, I must confess I have

met with no confirmation of it in the correspondence of those who had

the direction of affairs in the Low Countries, nor in the charges

alleged against Montigny himself,--where an attempt to suborn the

heir-apparent, one might suppose, would have been paraded as the most

heinous offence. Still, that Carlos regarded himself as the proper

person to be intrusted with the mission to the Netherlands is evident

from his treatment of Alva, when that nobleman was appointed to the

command of the army.

On that occasion, as the duke came to pay his respects to him previous

to his departure, the prince fiercely said, "You are not to go to

Flanders; I will go there myself." Alva endeavored to pacify him, saying

that it was too dangerous a mission for the heir to the throne; that he

was going to quiet the troubles of the country, and prepare it for the

coming of the king, when the prince could accompany his father, if his

presence could be spared in Castile. But this explanation served only to

irritate Carlos the more; and, drawing his dagger, he turned suddenly on

the duke, exclaiming, "You shall not go; if you do, I will kill you." A

struggle ensued,--an awkward one for Alva, as to have injured the

heir-apparent might have been construed into treason. Fortunately, being

much the stronger of the two, he grappled with Carlos, and held him

tight, while the latter exhausted his strength in ineffectual struggles

to escape. But no sooner was the prince released, than he turned again,

with the fury of a madman, on the duke, who again closed with him, when

the noise of the fray brought in one of the chamberlains from an

adjoining room; and Carlos, extricating himself from the iron grasp of

his adversary, withdrew to his own apartment.[1442]

Such an outrage on the person of his minister was regarded by Philip as

an indignity to himself. It widened the breach, already too wide,

between father and son; and so great was this estrangement, that, when

living in the same palace, they seem to have had no communication with

each other.[1443] Much of Philip's time, however, at this period, was

passed at the Escorial, where he was watching over the progress of the

magnificent pile which was to commemorate the victory of St. Quentin.

But, while in his retreat, the ministers placed about his son furnished

the king with faithful reports of his proceedings.

[Sidenote: PROJECT OF FLIGHT.]

Such was the deplorable state of things, when Carlos came to the fatal

determination to escape from the annoyances of his present position by

flying to some foreign land. To what country is not certainly known;

some say to the Netherlands, others to Germany. The latter, on the

whole, seems the most probable; as in the court of Vienna he would meet

with his promised bride, and friends who would be sure to welcome him.

As he was destitute of funds for such a journey, he proposed to raise

them through a confidential agent, one of his own household, by

obtaining loans from different cities. Such a reckless mode of

proceeding, which seemed at once to proclaim his purpose, intimated too

plainly the heedlessness of his character, and his utter ignorance of

affairs.

But while these negotiations were in progress, a circumstance occurred,

exhibiting the conduct of Carlos in such a light that it may claim the

shelter of insanity. The story is told by one of the prince's household,

an _ayuda de camara_, or gentleman of the chamber, who was present at

the scene, which he describes with much simplicity.

For some days his master, he tells us, had no rest, frequently

repeating, that "he desired to kill a man with whom he had a

quarrel!"[1444] The same thing he said--without, however, intimating who

the man was--to his uncle, Don John of Austria, in whom he seems to have

placed unbounded confidence. This was near Christmas, in 1567. It was

customary on the twenty-eighth of December, the day of the Innocents,

for the members of the royal family to appear together, and take the

sacrament in public. Carlos, in order to prepare for this, on the

preceding evening went to the church of St. Jerome, to confess and

receive absolution. But the confessor, when he heard the strange avowal

of his murderous appetite, refused to grant absolution. Carlos applied

to another ecclesiastic, but with as little success. In vain he

endeavored to argue the case. They recommended him to send for more

learned divines, and take their opinion. He did so forthwith; and no

less than fourteen monks from the convent of Our Lady of Atocha, and two

from another quarter, were brought together to settle this strange point

of casuistry. Greatly shocked, they were unanimous in their opinion,

that, under the circumstances, absolution could not be granted. Carlos

next inquired whether he might not be allowed to receive an

unconsecrated wafer, which would obviate the scandal that his omitting

to take the sacrament would infallibly occasion in the court. The

reverend body were thrown into fresh consternation by this proposal. The

prior of Atocha, who was among the number, wishing to draw from Carlos

the name of his enemy, told him that this intelligence might possibly

have some influence on the judgment of the divines. The prince replied,

that "his father was the person, and that he wished to have his

life!"[1445] The prior calmly inquired, if any one was to aid him in the

designs against his father. But Carlos only repeated his former

declaration; and two hours after midnight the conclave broke up in

unspeakable dismay. A messenger was despatched to the Escorial, where

the king then was, to acquaint him with the whole affair.[1446]

Such is the report of the _ayuda de camara_, who says he was in

attendance on the prince that night. The authority is better for some

parts of the story than for others. There is nothing very improbable in

the supposition that Carlos--whose thoughts, as we have seen, lay very

near the surface--should have talked, in the wild way reported of him,

to his attendants. But that he should have repeated to others what had

been drawn from him so cunningly by the prior, or that this appalling

secret should have been whispered within earshot of the attendants, is

difficult to believe. It matters little, however, since, whichever way

we take the story, it savors so much of downright madness in the prince

as in a manner to relieve him from moral responsibility.

By the middle of January, 1568, the prince's agent had returned,

bringing with him a hundred and fifty thousand ducats. It was not more

than a fourth of the amount he had demanded. But it answered for the

present, and the remainder he proposed to have sent after him in bills

of exchange.[1447] Having completed his preparations, he communicated

his intentions to his uncle, Don John, and besought him to accompany him

in his flight. But the latter, after fruitlessly expostulating with his

kinsman on the folly of his proceeding, left Madrid for the Escorial,

where he doubtless reported the affair to the king, his brother.

On the seventeenth, Carlos sent an order to Don Ramon de Tassis, the

director-general of the posts, to have eight horses in readiness for

him, that evening. Tassis, suspecting all was not right, returned an

answer that the horses were out. On the prince repeating his orders in a

more peremptory manner, the postmaster sent all the horses out, and

proceeded himself in all haste to the Escorial.[1448]

[Sidenote: HIS ARREST.]

The king was not long in taking his measures. Some days previous, "this

very religious prince," says the papal nuncio, "according to his wont,

had caused prayers to be put up, in the different monasteries, for the

guidance of Heaven in an affair of great moment."[1449] Such prayers

might have served as a warning to Carlos. But it was too late for

warnings. Philip now proceeded, without loss of time, to Madrid, where

those who beheld him in the audience-chamber, on the morning of the

eighteenth, saw no sign of the coming storm in the serenity of his

countenance.[1450] That morning, he attended mass in public, with the

members of the royal family. After the services, Don John visited Carlos

in his apartment, when the prince, shutting the doors, demanded of his

uncle the subject of his conversation with the king at the Escorial. Don

John evaded the questions as well as he could, till Carlos, heated by

his suspicions, drew his sword, and attacked his uncle, who, retreating,

with his back to the door, called loudly on the prince to desist, and

threw himself into a posture of defence. The noise made by the skirmish

fortunately drew the notice of the attendants, who, rushing in, enabled

Don John to retreat, and Carlos withdrew in sullen silence to his

chamber.[1451]

The prince, it seems, had for some time felt himself insecure in his

father's palace. He slept with as many precautions as a highwayman, with

his sword and dagger by his side, and a loaded musket within reach,

ready at any moment for action.[1452] For further security, he had

caused an ingenious artisan to construct a bolt, in such a way that by

means of pulleys he could fasten or unfasten the door of his chamber

while in bed. With such precautions, it would be a perilous thing to

invade the slumbers of a desperate man like Carlos. But Philip was aware

of the difficulties; and he ordered the mechanic to derange the

machinery so that it should not work: and thus the door was left without

the usual means for securing it.[1453] The rest is told by the _ayuda de

camara_ above mentioned, who was on duty that night, and supped in the

palace.

It was about eleven o'clock, on the evening of the eighteenth, when he

observed the king coming down stairs, wearing armor over his clothes,

and his head protected by a helmet. He was accompanied by the duke of

Feria, captain of the guard, with four or five other lords, and twelve

privates of the guard. The king ordered the valet to shut the door, and

allow no one to enter. The nobles and the guard then passed into the

prince's chamber; and the duke of Feria, stealing softly to the head of

the bed, secured a sword and dagger which lay there, as well as a musket

loaded with two balls. Carlos, roused by the noise, started up, and

demanded who was there. The duke, having got possession of the weapons,

replied, "It is the council of state." Carlos, on hearing this, leaped

from his bed, and, uttering loud cries and menaces, endeavored to seize

his arms. At this moment, Philip, who had prudently deferred his

entrance till the weapons were mastered, came forward, and bade his son

return to bed and remain quiet. The prince exclaimed, "What does your

majesty want of me?" "You will soon learn," said his father, and at the

same time ordered the windows and doors to be strongly secured, and the

keys of the latter to be delivered to him. All the furniture of the

room, with which Carlos could commit any violence, even the andirons,

were removed.[1454] The king, then turning to Feria, told him that "he

committed the prince to his especial charge, and that he must guard him

well." Addressing next the other nobles, he directed them "to serve the

prince with all proper respect, but to execute none of his orders

without first reporting them to himself; finally, to guard him

faithfully, under penalty of being held as traitors."

At these words Carlos exclaimed, "Your majesty had better kill me than

keep me a prisoner. It will be a great scandal to the kingdom. If you do

not kill me, I will make away with myself." "You will do no such thing,"

said the king; "for that would be the act of a madman." "Your majesty,"

replied Carlos, "treats me so ill that you force me to this extremity. I

am not mad, but you drive me to despair!"[1455] Other words passed

between the monarch and his son, whose voice was so broken with sobs as

to be scarcely audible.[1456]

Having completed his arrangements, Philip, after securing a coffer which

contained the prince's papers, withdrew from the apartment. That night,

the duke of Feria, the count of Lerma, and Don Rodrigo de Mendoza,

eldest son of Ruy Gomez, remained in the prince's chamber. Two lords,

out of six named for the purpose, performed the same duty in rotation

each succeeding night. From respect to the prince, none of them were

allowed to wear their swords in his presence. His meat was cut up before

it was brought into his chamber, as he was allowed no knife at his

meals. The prince's attendants were all dismissed, and most of them

afterwards provided for in the service of the king. A guard of twelve

halberdiers were stationed in the passages leading to the tower in which

the apartment of Carlos was situated. Thus all communication from

without was cut off; and, as he was unable to look from his strongly

barricaded windows, the unhappy prisoner from that time remained as dead

to the world as if he had been buried in the deepest dungeon of

Simancas.

The following day, the king called the members of his different councils

together, and informed them of the arrest of his son, declaring that

nothing but his duty to God, and the welfare of the monarchy, could have

moved him to such an act. The tears, according to one present, filled

his eyes, as he made this avowal.[1457]

He then summoned his council of state, and commenced a process against

the prisoner. His affliction did not prevent him from being present all

the while, and listening to the testimony, which, when reduced to

writing, formed a heap of paper half a foot in thickness.--Such is the

account given of this extraordinary proceeding by the _ayuda de

camara_.[1458]

[Sidenote: CAUSES OF HIS IMPRISONMENT.]

CHAPTER VII.

DEATH OF DON CARLOS.

Causes of his Imprisonment.--His Rigorous Confinement.--His

Excesses.--His Death.--Llorente's Account.--Various

Accounts.--Suspicious Circumstances.--Quarrel in the Palace.--Obsequies

of Carlos.

1568.

The arrest of Don Carlos caused a great sensation throughout the

country, much increased by the mysterious circumstances which had

attended it. The wildest rumors were afloat as to the cause. Some said

the prince had meditated a design against his father's life; others,

that he had conspired against that of Ruy Gomez. Some said that he was

plotting rebellion, and had taken part with the Flemings; others

suspected him of heresy. Many took still a different view of the

matter,--censuring the father rather than the son. "_His dagger followed

close upon his smile_," says the historian of Philip; "hence some called

him wise, others severe."[1459] Carlos, they said, never a favorite,

might have been rash in his thoughts and words; but he had done no act

which should have led a father to deal with his son so harshly. But

princes are too apt to be jealous of their successors. They distrusted

the bold and generous spirit of their offspring, whom it would be wiser

to win over by admitting them to some reasonable share in the

government.--"But others there were," concludes the wise chronicler of

the times, "who, more prudent than their neighbors, laid their finger on

their lips, and were silent."[1460]

For some days, Philip would allow no post to leave Madrid, that he might

be the first to send intelligence of this event to foreign courts.[1461]

On the twenty-fourth, he despatched circular letters to the great

ecclesiastics, the grandees, and the municipalities of the chief cities

of the kingdom. They were vague in their import, stating the fact of the

arrest, and assigning much the same general grounds with those he had

stated to the councils. On the same day he sent despatches to the

principal courts of Europe. These, though singularly vague and

mysterious in their language, were more pregnant with suggestions, at

least, than the letters to his subjects. The most curious, on the whole,

and the one that gives the best insight into his motives, is the letter

he addressed to his aunt, the queen of Portugal. She was sister to the

emperor, his father,--an estimable lady, whom Philip had always held in

great respect.

"Although," he writes, "it has long been obvious that it was necessary

to take some order in regard to the prince, yet the feelings of a father

have led me to resort to all other means before proceeding to extremity.

But affairs have at length come to such a pass, that, to fulfil the duty

which, as a Christian prince, I owe both to God and to my realm, I have

been compelled to place my son in strict confinement. Thus have I been

willing to sacrifice to God my own flesh and blood, preferring his

service and the welfare of my people to all human considerations.[1462]

I will only add, that this determination has not been brought about by

any misconduct on the part of my son, or by any want of respect to me;

nor is this treatment of him intended by way of chastisement,--for that,

however just the grounds of it, would have its time and its limit.[1463]

Neither have I resorted to it as an expedient for reforming his

disorderly life. The proceeding rests altogether on another foundation;

and the _remedy I propose is not one either of time or expedients_, but

is of the greatest moment, as I have already remarked, to satisfy my

obligations to God and my people."[1464]

In the same obscure strain, Philip addressed Zuñiga, his ambassador at

the papal court,--saying, that, "although the disobedience which Carlos

had shown through life was sufficient to justify any demonstration of

severity, yet it was not this, but the stern pressure of necessity, that

could alone have driven him to deal in this way with his first-born, his

only son."[1465]

This ambiguous language--implying that the imprisonment of Carlos was

not occasioned by his own misconduct, and yet that both the interests of

religion and the safety of the state demanded his perpetual

imprisonment--may be thought to intimate that the cause referred to

could be no other than insanity. This was plainly stated by the prince

of Eboli, in a communication which, by the king's order, he made to the

French minister, Fourquevaulx. The king, Gomez said, had for three years

past perceived that the prince's head was the weakest part of him, and

that he was, at no time, in complete possession of his understanding. He

had been silent on the matter, trusting that time would bring some

amendment. But it had only made things worse; and he saw, with sorrow,

that to commit the sceptre to his son's hands would be to bring

inevitable misery on his subjects and ruin on the state. With

unspeakable anguish, he had therefore resolved, after long deliberation,

to place his son under constraint.[1466]

[Sidenote: CAUSES OF HIS IMPRISONMENT.]

This at least is intelligible, and very different from Philip's own

despatches,--where it strikes us as strange, if insanity were the true

ground of the arrest, that it should be covered up under such vague and

equivocal language, with the declaration, moreover, usually made in his

letters, that, "at some future time, he would explain the matter more

fully to the parties." One might have thought that the simple plea of

insanity would have been directly given, as furnishing the best apology

for the son, and at the same time vindicating the father for imposing a

wholesome restraint upon his person. But, in point of fact, the

excessive rigor of the confinement, as we shall have occasion to see,

savored much more of the punishment dealt out to some high offender,

than of the treatment of an unfortunate lunatic. Neither is it probable

that a criminal process would have been instituted against one who, by

his very infirmity, was absolved from all moral responsibility.

There are two documents, either of which, should it ever be brought to

light, would probably unfold the true reasons of the arrest of Carlos.

The Spanish ambassador, Zuñiga, informed Philip that the pope,

dissatisfied with the account which he had given of the transaction,

desired a further explanation of it from his majesty.[1467] This, from

such a source, was nearly equivalent to a command. For Philip had a

peculiar reverence for Pius the Fifth, the pope of the Inquisition, who

was a pontiff after his own heart. The king is said never to have passed

by the portrait of his holiness, which hung on the walls of the palace,

without taking off his hat.[1468] He at once wrote a letter to the pope

containing a full account of the transaction. It was written in cipher,

with the recommendation that it should be submitted to Granvelle, then

in Rome, if his holiness could not interpret it. This letter is

doubtless in the Vatican.[1469]

The other document is the process. The king, immediately after the

arrest of his son, appointed a special commission to try him. It

consisted of Cardinal Espinosa, the prince of Eboli, and a royal

councillor, Bribiesca de Muñatones, who was appointed to prepare the

indictment. The writings containing the memorable process instituted by

Philip's ancestor, John the Second of Aragon, against his amiable and

unfortunate son, who also bore the name of Carlos, had been obtained

from the Archives of Barcelona. They were translated from the Catalan

into Castilian, and served for the ominous model for the present

proceedings, which took the form of a trial for high treason. In

conducting this singular prosecution, it does not appear that any

counsel or evidence appeared on behalf of the prisoner, although a

formidable amount of testimony, it would seem, was collected on the

other side. But, in truth, we know little of the proceedings. There is

no proof that any but the monarch, and the secret tribunal that presided

over the trial,--if so it can be called,--ever saw the papers. In 1592,

according to the historian Cabrera, they were deposited, by Philip's

orders, in a green box, strongly secured, in the Archives of

Simancas,[1470]--where, as we have no later information, they may still

remain, to reward the labors of some future antiquary.[1471]

In default of these documents, we must resort to conjecture for the

solution of this difficult problem; and there are several circumstances

which may assist us in arriving at a conclusion. Among the foreign

ministers at that time at the court of Madrid, none took more pains to

come at the truth of this affair,--as his letters abundantly

prove,--than the papal nuncio, Castaneo, archbishop of Rossano. He was a

shrewd, sagacious prelate, whose position and credit at the court gave

him the best opportunities for information. By Philip's command,

Cardinal Espinosa gave the nuncio the usual explanation of the grounds

on which Carlos had been arrested. "It is a strange story," said the

nuncio, "that which we everywhere hear, of the prince's plot against his

father's life." "It would be of little moment," replied the cardinal,

"if the danger to the king were all; as it would be easy to protect his

person. But the present case is worse,--if worse can be; and the king,

who has seen the bad course which his son has taken for these two years

past, has vainly tried to remedy it; till, finding himself unable to

exercise any control over the hair-brained young man, he has been forced

to this expedient."[1472]

Now, in the judgment of a grand-inquisitor, it would probably be thought

that heresy, or any leaning to heresy, was a crime of even a deeper dye

than parricide. The cardinal's discourse made this impression on the

nuncio, who straightway began to cast about for proofs of apostasy in

Don Carlos. The Tuscan minister also notices, in his letters, the

suspicions that Carlos was not a good Catholic.[1473] A confirmation of

this view of the matter may be gathered from the remarks of Pius the

Fifth on Philip's letter in cipher, above noticed. "His holiness,"

writes the Spanish ambassador, "greatly lauds the course taken by your

majesty; for he feels that the preservation of Christianity depends on

your living many years, and on your having a successor who will tread in

your footsteps."[1474]

[Sidenote: CAUSES OF HIS IMPRISONMENT.]

But though all this seems to intimate pretty clearly that the religious

defection of Carlos was a predominant motive for his imprisonment, it is

not easy to believe that a person of his wayward and volatile mind could

have formed any settled opinions in matters of faith, or that his

position would have allowed the Reformers such access to his person as

to have greatly exposed him to the influence of their doctrines. Yet it

is quite possible that he may have taken an interest in those political

movements abroad, which, in the end, were directed against the Church. I

allude to the troubles in the Low Countries, which he is said to have

looked upon with no unfriendly eye. It is true, there is no proof of

this, so far as I am aware, in the correspondence of the Flemish

leaders. Nor is there any reason to suppose that Carlos entered

directly into a correspondence with them himself, or indeed committed

himself by any overt act in support of the cause.[1475] But this was not

necessary for his condemnation; it would have been quite enough, that he

had felt a sympathy for the distresses of the people. From the residence

of Egmont, Bergen, and Montigny at the court, he had obvious means of

communication with those nobles, who may naturally have sought to

interest him in behalf of their countrymen. The sympathy readily kindled

in the ardent bosom of the young prince would be as readily expressed.

That he did feel such a sympathy may perhaps be inferred by his strange

conduct to Alva, on the eve of his departure for the Netherlands. But

the people of that country were regarded at Madrid as in actual

rebellion against the crown. The reformed doctrines which they avowed

gave to the movement the character of a religious revolution. For a

Spaniard to countenance it in any way was at once to prove himself false

both to his sovereign and his faith. In such a light, we may be quite

sure, it would be viewed both by Philip and his minister, the

grand-inquisitor. Nor would it be thought any palliation of the crime,

that the offender was heir to the monarchy.[1476]

As to a design on his father's life, Philip, both in his foreign

despatches and in the communications made by his order to the resident

ministers at Madrid, wholly acquitted Carlos of so horrible a

charge.[1477] If it had any foundation in truth, one might suppose that

Philip, instead of denying, would have paraded it, as furnishing an

obvious apology for subjecting him to so rigorous a confinement. It is

certain, if Carlos had really entertained so monstrous a design, he

might easily have found an opportunity to execute it. That Philip would

have been silent in respect to his son's sympathy with the Netherlands

may well be believed. The great champion of Catholicism would naturally

shrink from publishing to the world that the taint of heresy infected

his own blood.

But, whatever may have been the motives which determined the conduct of

Philip, one cannot but suspect that a deep-rooted aversion to his son

lay at the bottom of them. The dissimilarity of their natures placed the

two parties, from the first, in false relations to each other. The

heedless excesses of youth were regarded with a pitiless eye by the

parent, who, in his own indulgences, at least did not throw aside the

veil of decorum. The fiery temper of Carlos, irritated by a

long-continued system of distrust, exclusion, and _espionnage_, at

length broke out into such senseless extravagances as belong to the

debatable ground of insanity. And this ground afforded, as already

intimated, a plausible footing to the father for proceeding to

extremities against the son.

Whatever were the offences of Carlos, those who had the best

opportunities for observation soon became satisfied that it was intended

never to allow him to regain his liberty, or to ascend the throne of

his ancestors.[1478] On the second of March, a code of regulations was

prepared by Philip relative to the treatment of the prince, which may

give some idea of the rigor of his confinement. He was given in especial

charge to Ruy Gomez, who was placed at the head of the establishment;

and it was from him that every person employed about Carlos was to

receive his commission. Six other nobles were appointed both to guard

the prince and render him service. Two of the number were to remain in

his apartment every night,--the one watching, while the other slept;

reminding us of an ingenious punishment among the Chinese, where a

criminal is obliged to be everywhere followed by an attendant, whose

business it is to keep an unceasing watch upon the offender, that,

wherever he turns, he may still find the same eye riveted upon him!

During the day, it was the duty of these nobles to remain with Carlos

and lighten by their conversation the gloom of his captivity. But they

were not to talk on matters relating to the government, above all to the

prince's imprisonment, on which topic, if he addressed them, they were

to remain obdurately silent. They were to bring no messages to him, and

bear none from him to the world without; and they were to maintain

inviolable secrecy in regard to all that passed within the walls of the

palace, unless when otherwise permitted by the king. Carlos was provided

with a breviary and some other books of devotion; and no works except

those of a devotional character were to be allowed him.[1479]--This last

regulation seems to intimate the existence of certain heretical

tendencies in Carlos, which it was necessary to counteract by books of

an opposite character,--unless it might be considered as an ominous

preparation for his approaching end. Besides the six nobles, no one was

allowed to enter the apartment but the prince's physician, his

_barbero_, or gentleman of the chamber, and his valet. The last was

taken from the _monteros_, or body-guard of the king.[1480] There were

seven others of this faithful corps who were attached to the

establishment, and whose duty it was to bring the dishes for his table

to an outer hall, whence they were taken by the _montero_ in waiting to

the prince's chamber. A guard of twelve halberdiers was also stationed

in the passages leading to the apartment, to intercept all communication

from without. Every person employed in the service, from the highest

noble to the meanest official, made solemn oath, before the prince of

Eboli, to conform to the regulations. On this nobleman rested the whole

responsibility of enforcing obedience to the rules, and of providing for

the security of Carlos. The better to effect this, he was commanded to

remove to the palace, where apartments were assigned to him and the

princess his wife, adjoining those of his prisoner. The arrangement may

have been commended by other considerations to Philip, whose intimacy

with the princess I shall have occasion to notice hereafter.[1481]

[Sidenote: HIS RIGOROUS CONFINEMENT.]

The regulations, severe as they were, were executed to the letter.

Philip's aunt, the queen of Portugal, wrote in earnest terms to the

king, kindly offering herself to remain with her grandson in his

confinement, and take charge of him like a mother in his

affliction.[1482] "But they were very willing," writes the French

minister, "to spare her the trouble."[1483] The emperor and empress

wrote to express the hope that the confinement of Carlos would work an

amendment in his conduct, and that he would soon be liberated. Several

letters passed between the courts, until Philip closed the

correspondence by declaring that his son's marriage with the princess

Anne could never take place, and that he would never be liberated.[1484]

Philip's queen, Isabella, and his sister Joanna, who seem to have been

deeply afflicted by the course taken with the prince, made ineffectual

attempts to be allowed to visit him in his confinement; and when Don

John of Austria came to the palace dressed in a mourning suit, to

testify his grief on the occasion, Philip coldly rebuked his brother,

and ordered him to change his mourning for his ordinary dress.[1485]

Several of the great towns were prepared to send their delegates to

condole with the monarch under his affliction. But Philip gave them to

understand, that he had only acted for the good of the nation, and that

their condolence on the occasion would be superfluous.[1486] When the

deputies of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia were on their way to court,

with instructions to inquire into the cause of the prince's

imprisonment, and to urge his speedy liberation, they received, on the

way, so decided an intimation of the royal displeasure, that they

thought it prudent to turn back, without venturing to enter the

capital.[1487]

In short, it soon came to be understood, that the affair of Don Carlos

was a subject not to be talked about. By degrees, it seemed to pass out

of men's minds, like a thing of ordinary occurrence. "There is as little

said now on the subject of the prince," writes the French ambassador,

Fourquevaulx, "as if he had been dead these ten years."[1488] His name,

indeed, still kept its place, among those of the royal family, in the

prayers said in the churches. But the king prohibited the clergy from

alluding to Carlos in their discourses. Nor did any one venture, says

the same authority, to criticize the conduct of the king. "So complete

is the ascendancy which Philip's wisdom has given him over his subjects,

that, willing or unwilling, all promptly obey him: and if they do not

love him, they at least appear to do so."[1489]

Among the articles removed from the prince's chamber was a coffer, as

the reader may remember, containing his private papers. Among these were

a number of letters intended for distribution after his departure from

the country. One was addressed to his father, in which Carlos avowed

that the cause of his flight was the harsh treatment he had received

from the king.[1490] Other letters, addressed to different nobles, and

to some of the great towns, made a similar statement; and, after

reminding them of the oath they had taken to him as successor to the

crown, he promised to grant them various immunities when the sceptre

should come into his hands.[1491] With these papers was also found one

of most singular import. It contained a list of all those persons whom

he deemed friendly, or inimical to himself. At the head of the former

class stood the names of his step-mother, Isabella, and of his uncle Don

John of Austria,--both of them noticed in terms of the warmest

affection. On the catalogue of his enemies, "to be pursued to the

death," were the names of the king, his father, the prince and princess

of Eboli, Cardinal Espinosa, the duke of Alva, and others.[1492]--Such

is the strange account of the contents of the coffer given to his court

by the papal nuncio. These papers, we are told, were submitted to the

judges who conducted the process, and formed, doubtless, an important

part of the testimony against the prince. It may have been from one of

the parties concerned that the nuncio gathered his information. Yet no

member of that tribunal would have ventured to disclose its secrets

without authority from Philip; who may possibly have consented to the

publication of facts that would serve to vindicate his course. If these

facts are faithfully reported, they must be allowed to furnish some

evidence of a disordered mind in Carlos.

[Sidenote: HIS EXCESSES.]

The king, meanwhile, was scarcely less a prisoner than his son; for,

from the time of the prince's arrest, he had never left the palace, even

to visit his favorite residences of Aranjuez and the Prado; nor had he

passed a single day in the occupation, in which he took such delight, of

watching the rising glories of the Escorial. He seemed to be constantly

haunted by the apprehension of some outbreak among the people, or at

least among the partisans of Carlos, to effect his escape; and when he

heard any unusual noise in the palace, says his historian, he would go

to the window, to see if the tumult were not occasioned by an attempt

to release the prisoner.[1493] There was little cause for apprehension

in regard to a people so well disciplined to obedience as the Castilians

under Philip the Second. But it is an ominous circumstance for a

prisoner, that he should become the occasion of such apprehension.

Philip, however, was not induced by his fears to mitigate in any degree

the rigor of his son's confinement, which produced the effect to have

been expected on one of his fiery, ungovernable temper. At first he was

thrown into a state bordering on frenzy, and, it is said, more than once

tried to make away with himself. As he found that thus to beat against

the bars of his prison-house was only to add to his distresses, he

resigned himself in sullen silence to his fate,--the sullenness of

despair. In his indifference to all around him, he ceased to take an

interest in his own spiritual concerns. Far from using the religious

books in his possession, he would attend to no act of devotion, refusing

even to confess, or to admit his confessor into his presence.[1494]

These signs of fatal indifference, if not of positive defection from the

Faith, gave great alarm to Philip, who would not willingly see the soul

thus perish with the body.[1495] In this emergency he employed Suarez,

the prince's almoner, who once had some influence over his master, to

address him a letter of expostulation. The letter has been preserved,

and is too remarkable to be passed by in silence.

Suarez begins with reminding Carlos that his rash conduct had left him

without partisans or friends. The effect of his present course, instead

of mending his condition, could only serve to make it worse. "What will

the world say," continues the ecclesiastic, "when it shall learn that

you now refuse to confess; when, too, it shall discover other dreadful

things of which you have been guilty, some of which are of such a

nature, that, did they concern any other than your highness, _the Holy

Office would be led to inquire whether the author of them were in truth

a Christian_?[1496] It is in the bitterness and anguish of my heart that

I must declare to your highness, that you are not only in danger of

forfeiting your worldly estate, but, what is worse, your own soul." And

he concludes by imploring Carlos, as the only remedy, to return to his

obedience to God, and to the king, who is his representative on earth.

But the admonitions of the honest almoner had as little effect on the

unhappy youth as the prayers of his attendants. The mental excitement

under which he labored, combined with the want of air and exercise,

produced its natural effect on his health. Every day he became more and

more emaciated; while the fever which had so long preyed on his

constitution now burned in his veins with greater fury than ever. To

allay the intolerable heat, he resorted to such desperate expedients as

seemed to intimate, says the papal nuncio, that, if debarred from laying

violent hands on himself, he would accomplish the same end in a slower

way, but not less sure. He deluged the floor with water, not a little to

the inconvenience of the companions of his prison, and walked about for

hours, half naked, with bare feet, on the cold pavement.[1497] He caused

a warming-pan filled with ice and snow to be introduced several times in

a night into his bed, and let it remain there for hours together.[1498]

As if this were not enough, he would gulp down such draughts of

snow-water as distance any achievement on record in the annals of

hydropathy. He pursued the same mad course in respect to what he ate. He

would abstain from food an incredible number of days,[1499] and then,

indulging in proportion to his former abstinence, would devour a pastry

of four partridges, with all the paste, at a sitting, washing it down

with three gallons or more of iced water![1500]

No constitution could long withstand such violent assaults as these. The

constitution of Carlos gradually sank under them. His stomach,

debilitated by long inaction, refused to perform the extraordinary tasks

that were imposed on it. He was attacked by incessant vomiting;

dysentery set in; and his strength rapidly failed. The physician,

Olivares, who alone saw the patient, consulted with his brethren in the

apartments of Ruy Gomez.[1501] Their remedies failed to restore the

exhausted energies of nature; and it was soon evident that the days of

Charles were numbered.

[Sidenote: HIS LAST MOMENTS.]

To no one could such an announcement have given less concern than to

Carlos; for he had impatiently looked to death as to his release. From

this hour he seemed to discard all earthly troubles from his mind, as he

fixed his thoughts steadfastly on the future. At his own request his

confessor, Chavres and Suarez, his almoner, were summoned, and assisted

him with their spiritual consolations. The closing scenes are recorded

by the pen of the nuncio.

"Suddenly a wonderful change seemed to be wrought by divine grace in the

heart of the prince. Instead of vain and empty talk, his language became

that of a sensible man. He sent for his confessor, devoutly confessed,

and, as his illness was such that he could not receive the host, he

humbly adored it; showing throughout great contrition, and, though not

refusing the proffered remedies, manifesting such contempt for the

things of this world, and such a longing for heaven, that one would have

said, God had reserved for this hour the sum of all his grace."[1502]

He seemed to feel an assurance that he was to survive till the vigil of

St. James, the patron saint of his country. When told that this would be

four days later, he said, "So long will my misery endure."[1503] He

would willingly have seen his father once more before his death. But his

confessor, it is said, dissuaded the monarch, on the ground that Carlos

was now in so happy a frame of mind, that it were better not to disturb

it by drawing off his attention to worldly objects. Philip, however,

took the occasion, when Carlos lay asleep or insensible, to enter the

chamber; and, stealing softly behind the prince of Eboli and the

grand-prior, Antonio de Toledo, he stretched out his hand towards the

bed, and, making the sign of the cross, gave the parting benediction to

his dying son.[1504]

Nor was Carlos allowed the society of his amiable step-mother, the

queen, nor of his aunt Joanna, to sweeten by their kind attentions the

bitterness of death.[1505] It was his sad fate to die, as he had lived

throughout his confinement, under the cold gaze of his enemies. Yet he

died at peace with all; and some of the last words that he uttered were

to forgive his father for his imprisonment, and the ministers--naming

Ruy Gomez and Espinosa in particular--who advised him to it.[1506]

Carlos now grew rapidly more feeble, having scarce strength enough left

to listen to the exhortations of his confessor, and with low, indistinct

murmurings to adore the crucifix which he held constantly in his hand.

On the twenty-fourth of July, soon after midnight, he was told it was

the Vigil of St. James. Then suddenly rousing, with a gleam of joy on

his countenance, he intimated his desire for his confessor to place the

holy taper in his hand: and feebly beating his breast, as if to invoke

the mercy of Heaven on his transgressions, he fell back, and expired

without a groan.[1507]--"No Catholic," says Nobili, "ever made a more

Catholic end."[1508]

Such is the account given us of the last hours of this most unfortunate

prince, by the papal nuncio and the Tuscan minister, and repeated with

slight discrepancies by most of the Castilian writers of that and the

following age.[1509] It is a singular circumstance, that, although we

have such full reports, both of what preceded and what followed the

death of Carlos, from the French ambassador, the portion of his

correspondence, which embraces his death has been withdrawn, whether by

accident or design, from the archives.[1510] But probably no one without

the walls of the palace had access to better sources of information than

the two ministers first mentioned, especially the papal nuncio. Their

intelligence may well have been derived from some who had been about the

person of Carlos. If so, it could not have been communicated without the

approbation of Philip, who may have been willing that the world should

understand that his son had died true to the Faith.

A very different account of the end of Carlos is given by Llorente. And

as this writer, the secretary of the Inquisition, had access to very

important materials; and as his account, though somewhat prolix, is

altogether remarkable, I cannot pass it by in silence.

[Sidenote: LLORENTE'S ACCOUNT.]

According to Llorente, the process already noticed as having been

instituted against Carlos was brought to a close only a short time

before his death. No notice of it, during all this time, had been given

to the prisoner, and no counsel was employed in his behalf. By the ninth

of July the affair was sufficiently advanced for a "summary judgment."

It resulted from the evidence, that the accused was guilty of treason in

both the first and second degree,--as having endeavored to compass the

death of the king, his father, and as having conspired to usurp the

sovereignty of Flanders. The counsellor Muñatones, in his report, which

he laid before the king, while he stated that the penalty imposed by the

law on every other subject for these crimes was death, added, that his

majesty, by his sovereign authority, might decide that the heir apparent

was placed by his rank above the reach of ordinary laws. And it was

further in his power to mitigate or dispense with any penalty whatever,

when he considered it for the good of his subjects.--In this judgment

both the ministers, Ruy Gomez and Espinosa, declared their concurrence.

To this the king replied, that, though his feelings moved him to follow

the suggestions of his ministers, his conscience would not permit it. He

could not think that he should consult the good of his people by placing

over them a monarch so vicious in his disposition, and so fierce and

sanguinary in his temper, as Carlos. However agonizing it might be to

his feelings as a father, he must allow the law to take its course. Yet,

after all, he said, it might not be necessary to proceed to this

extremity. The prince's health was in so critical a state, that it was

only necessary to relax the precautions in regard to his diet, and his

excesses would soon conduct him to the tomb! One point only was

essential, that he should be so well advised of his situation that he

should be willing to confess, and make his peace with Heaven before he

died. This was the greatest proof of love which he could give to his son

and to the Spanish nation.

Ruy Gomez and Espinosa both of them inferred from this singular

ebullition of parental tenderness, that they could not further the real

intentions of the king better than by expediting as much as possible the

death of Carlos. Ruy Gomez accordingly communicated his views to

Olivares, the prince's physician. This he did in such ambiguous and

mysterious phrase as, while it intimated his meaning, might serve to

veil the enormity of the crime from the eyes of the party who was to

perpetrate it. No man was more competent to this delicate task than the

prince of Eboli, bred from his youth in courts, and trained to a life of

dissimulation. Olivares readily comprehended the drift of his

discourse,--that the thing required of him was to dispose of the

prisoner, in such a way that his death should appear natural, and that

the honor of the king should not be compromised. He raised no scruples,

but readily signified his willingness faithfully to execute the will of

his sovereign. Under these circumstances, on the twentieth of July, a

purgative dose was administered to the unsuspecting patient, who, as may

be imagined, rapidly grew worse. It was a consolation to his father,

that, when advised of his danger, Carlos consented to receive his

confessor. Thus, though the body perished, the soul was saved.[1511]

Such is the extraordinary account given us by Llorente, which, if true,

would at once settle the question in regard to the death of Carlos. But

Llorente, with a disingenuousness altogether unworthy of an historian in

a matter of so grave import, has given us no knowledge of the sources

whence his information was derived. He simply says, that they are

"certain secret memoirs of the time, full of curious anecdote, which,

though not possessing precisely the character of authenticity, are

nevertheless entitled to credit, as coming from persons employed in the

palace of the king!"[1512] Had the writer condescended to acquaint us

with the names, or some particulars of the characters, of his authors,

we might have been able to form some estimate of the value of their

testimony. His omission to do this may lead us to infer, that he had not

perfect confidence in it himself. At all events it compels us to trust

the matter entirely to his own discretion, a virtue which those familiar

with his inaccuracies in other matters will not be disposed to concede

to him in a very eminent degree.[1513]

His narrative, moreover, is in direct contradiction to the authorities I

have already noticed, especially to the two foreign ministers so often

quoted, who, with the advantages--not a few--that they possessed for

obtaining correct information, were indefatigable in collecting it. "I

say nothing," writes the Tuscan envoy, alluding, to the idle rumors of

the town, "of gossip unworthy to be listened to. It is a hard thing to

satisfy the populace. It is best to stick to the truth, without caring

for the opinion of those who talk wildly of improbable matters, which

have their origin in ignorance and malice."[1514]

Still, it cannot be denied, that suspicions of foul play to Carlos were

not only current abroad, but were entertained by persons of higher rank

than the populace at home,--where it could not be safe to utter them.

Among others, the celebrated Antonio Perez, one of the household of the

prince of Eboli, informs us, that, "as the king had found Carlos guilty,

he was condemned to death by casuists and inquisitors. But in order that

the execution of this sentence might not be brought too palpably before

the public, they mixed for four months together a slow poison in his

food."[1515]

This statement agrees, to a certain extent, with that of a noble

Venetian, Pietro Giustiniani, then in Castile, who assured the historian

De Thou, that "Philip having determined on the death of his son,

obtained a sentence to that effect from a lawful judge. But in order to

save the honor of the sovereign, the sentence was executed in secret,

and Carlos was made to swallow some poisoned broth, of which he died

some hours afterwards."[1516]

Some of the particulars mentioned by Antonio Perez may be thought to

receive confirmation from an account given by the French minister,

Fourquevaulx, in a letter dated about a month after the prince's arrest.

"The prince," he says, "becomes visibly thinner and more dried up; and

his eyes are sunk in his head. They give him sometimes strong soups and

capon broths, in which amber and other nourishing things are dissolved,

that he may not wholly lose his strength and fall into decrepitude.

These soups are prepared privately in the chamber of Ruy Gomez, through

which one passes into that of the prince."

[Sidenote: VARIOUS ACCOUNTS.]

It was not to be expected that a Castilian writer should have the

temerity to assert that the death of Carlos was brought about by

violence. Yet Cabrera, the best informed historian of the period, who,

in his boyhood, had frequent access to the house of Ruy Gomez, and even

to the royal palace, while he describes the excesses of Carlos as the

cause of his untimely end, makes some mysterious intimations, which,

without any forced construction, seem to point to the agency of others

in bringing about that event.[1517]

Strada, the best informed, on the whole, of the foreign writers of the

period, and who, as a foreigner, had not the same motives for silence as

a Spaniard, qualifies his account of the prince's death as having taken

place in the natural-way, by saying, "if indeed he did not perish by

violence."[1518]--The prince of Orange, in his bold denunciation of

Philip, does not hesitate to proclaim him the murderer of his son.[1519]

And that inquisitive gossip-monger, Brantôme, amidst the bitter jests

and epigrams which, he tells us, his countrymen levelled at Philip for

his part in this transaction, quotes the authority of a Spaniard of rank

for the assertion that, after Carlos had been condemned by his

father,--in opposition to the voice of his council,--the prince was

found dead in his chamber, smothered with a towel![1520] Indeed, the

various modes of death assigned to him are sufficient evidence of the

uncertainty as to any one of them.[1521] A writer of more recent date

does not scruple to assert, that the only liberty granted to Carlos was

that of selecting the manner of his death out of several kinds that were

proposed to him;[1522]--an incident which has since found a more

suitable place in one of the many dramas that have sprang from his

mysterious story.

In all this the historian must admit there is but little evidence of

positive value. The authors--with the exception of Antonio Perez, who

had his account, he tells us, from the prince of Eboli--are by no means

likely to have had access to sure sources of information; while their

statements are contradictory to one another, and stand in direct

opposition to those of the Tuscan minister and of the nuncio, the latter

of whom had, probably, better knowledge of what was passing in the

councils of the monarch, than any other of the diplomatic body. Even the

declaration of Antonio Perez, so important on many accounts, is to a

considerable degree neutralized by the fact, that he was the mortal

enemy of Philip, writing in exile, with a price set upon his head by the

man whose character he was assailing. It is the hard fate of a person so

situated, that even truth from his lips fails to carry with it

conviction.[1523]

[Sidenote: SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES.]

If we reject his explanation of the matter, we shall find ourselves

again thrown on the sea of conjecture, and may be led to account for the

rumors of violence on the part of Philip by the mystery in which the

whole of the proceedings was involved, and the popular notion of the

character of the monarch who directed them. The same suspicious

circumstances must have their influence on the historian of the present

day, as with insufficient, though more ample light than was enjoyed by

contemporaries, he painfully endeavors to grope his way through this

obscure passage in the life of Philip. Many reflections of ominous

import naturally press upon his mind. From the first hour of the

prince's confinement it was determined, as we have seen, that he was

never to be released from it. Yet the preparations for keeping him a

prisoner were on so extraordinary a scale, and imposed such a burden on

men of the highest rank in the kingdom, as seemed to argue that his

confinement was not to be long. It is a common saying,--as old as

Machiavelli,--that to a deposed prince the distance is not great from

the throne to the grave. Carlos, indeed, had never worn a crown. But

there seemed to be the same reasons as if he had, for abridging the term

of his imprisonment. All around the prince regarded him with distrust.

The king, his father, appeared to live, as we have seen, in greater

apprehension of him after his confinement, than before.[1524] "The

ministers, whom Carlos hated," says the nuncio, "knew well that it would

be their ruin, should he ever ascend the throne."[1525] Thus, while the

fears and the interests of all seemed to tend to his removal, we find

nothing in the character of Philip to counteract the tendency. For when

was he ever known to relax his grasp on the victim once within his

power, or to betray any feeling of compunction as to sweeping away an

obstacle from his path? One has only to call to mind the long

confinement, ending with the midnight execution, of Montigny, the open

assassination of the prince of Orange, the secret assassination of the

secretary Escovedo, the unrelenting persecution of Perez, his agent in

that murder, and his repeated attempts to despatch him also by the hand

of the bravo. These are passages in the history of Philip which yet

remain to be presented to the reader, and the knowledge of which is

necessary before we can penetrate into the depths of his dark and

unscrupulous character.

If it be thought that there is a wide difference between these deeds of

violence and the murder of a son, we must remember that, in affairs of

religion, Philip acted avowedly on the principle, that the end justifies

the means; that one of the crimes charged upon Carlos was defection from

the Faith; and that Philip had once replied to the piteous appeal of a

heretic whom they were dragging to the stake, "Were my son such a wretch

as thou art, I would myself carry the fagots to burn him!"[1526]

But in whatever light we are to regard the death of Carlos,--whether as

caused by violence, or by those insane excesses in which he was allowed

to plunge during his confinement,--in either event the responsibility,

to a great extent, must be allowed to rest on Philip, who, if he did not

directly employ the hand of the assassin to take the life of his son,

yet by his rigorous treatment drove that son to a state of desperation

that brought about the same fatal result.[1527]

While the prince lay in the agonies of death, scarcely an hour before he

breathed his last, a scene of a very different nature was passing in an

adjoining gallery of the palace. A quarrel arose there between two

courtiers,--one of them a young cavalier, Don Antonio de Leyva, the

other Don Diego de Mendoza, a nobleman who had formerly filled, with

great distinction, the post of ambassador at Rome. The dispute arose

respecting some _coplas_, of which Mendoza claimed to be the author.

Though at this time near sixty years old, the fiery temperament of youth

had not been cooled by age. Enraged at what he conceived an insult on

the part of his companion, he drew his dagger. The other as promptly

unsheathed his sword. Thrusts were exchanged between the parties; and

the noise of the fracas at length reached the ears of Philip himself.

Indignant at the outrage thus perpetrated within the walls of the

palace, and at such an hour, he ordered his guards instantly to arrest

the offenders. But the combatants, brought to their senses, had

succeeded in making their escape, and taken refuge in a neighboring

church. Philip was too much incensed to respect this asylum; and an

alcalde, by his command, entered the church at midnight, and dragged the

offenders from the sanctuary. Leyva was put in irons, and lodged in the

fortress of Madrid; while his rival was sent to the tower of Simancas.

"It is thought they will pay for this outrage with their lives," writes

the Tuscan minister, Nobili. "The king," he adds, "has even a mind to

cashier his guard for allowing them to escape." Philip, however,

confined the punishment of the nobles to banishment from court; and the

old courtier, Mendoza, profited by his exile to give to the world those

remarkable compositions, both in history and romance, that form an epoch

in the national literature.[1528]

A few days before his death, Carlos is said to have made a will, in

which, after imploring his father's pardon and blessing, he commended

his servants to his care, gave away a few jewels to two or three

friends, and disposed of the rest of his property in behalf of sundry

churches and monasteries.[1529] Agreeably to his wish, his body was

wrapped in a Franciscan robe, and was soon afterward laid in a coffin

covered with black velvet and rich brocade. At seven o'clock, that same

evening, the remains of Carlos were borne from the chamber where he

died, to their place of interment.[1530]

The coffin was supported on the shoulders of the prince of Eboli, the

dukes of Infantado and Bio Seco, and other principal grandees. In the

court-yard of the palace was a large gathering of the members of the

religious fraternities, dignitaries of the church, foreign ambassadors,

nobles and cavaliers about the court, and officers of the royal

household. There were there also the late attendants of Carlos,--to some

of whom he had borne little love,--who, after watching him through his

captivity, were now come to conduct him to his final resting-place.

Before moving, some wrangling took place among the parties on the

question of precedence. Such a spirit might well have been rebuked by

the solemn character of the business they were engaged in, which might

have reminded them, that in the grave, at least, there are no

distinctions. But the perilous question was happily settled by Philip

himself, who, from an open window of the palace, looked down on the

scene, and, with his usual composure, gave directions for forming the

procession.[1531]

[Sidenote: HIS OBSEQUIES.]

The king did not accompany it. Slowly it defiled through the crowded

streets, where the people gave audible utterance to their grief, as they

gazed on the funeral pomp, and their eyes fell on the bier of the

prince, who, they had fondly hoped, would one day sway the sceptre of

Castile; and whose errors, great as they were, were all forgotten in his

unparalleled misfortunes.[1532]

The procession moved forward to the convent of San Domingo Real, where

Carlos had desired that his ashes might be laid. The burial service was

there performed, with great solemnity, in presence of the vast

multitude. But whether it was that Philip distrusted the prudence of the

preachers, or feared some audacious criticism on his conduct, no

discourse was allowed to be delivered from the pulpit. For nine days

religious services were performed in honor of the deceased; and the

office for the dead continued to be read, morning and evening, before an

audience among whom were the great nobles and the officers of state,

clad in full mourning. The queen and the princess Joanna might be seen,

on these occasions, mingling their tears with the few who cherished the

memory of Carlos. A niche was excavated in the wall of the church,

within the choir, in which the prince's remains were deposited. But they

did not rest there long. In 1573, they were removed, by Philip's orders,

to the Escorial; and in its gloomy chambers they were left to mingle

with the kindred dust of the royal line of Austria.[1533]

Philip wrote to Zuñiga, his ambassador in Rome, to intimate his wish

that no funeral honors should be paid there to the memory of Carlos,

that no mourning should be worn, and that his holiness would not feel

under the necessity of sending him letters of condolence.[1534] Zuñiga

did his best. But he could not prevent the obsequies from being

celebrated with the lugubrious pomp suited to the rank of the departed.

A catafalque was raised in the church of Saint James; the services were

performed in presence of the ambassador and his attendants, who were

dressed in the deepest black; and twenty-one cardinals, one of whom was

Granvelle, assisted at the solemn ceremonies.[1535] But no funeral

panegyric was pronounced, and no monumental inscription recorded the

imaginary virtues of the deceased.[1536]

Soon after the prince's death, Philip retired to the monastery of St.

Jerome, in whose cloistered recesses he remained some time longer

secreted from the eyes of his subjects. "He feels his loss like a

father," writes the papal nuncio, "but he bears it with the patience of

a Christian."[1537] He caused despatches to be sent to foreign courts,

to acquaint them with his late bereavement. In his letter to the duke

of Alva, he indulges in a fuller expression of his personal feelings.

"You may conceive," he says, "in what pain and heaviness I find myself,

now that it has pleased God to take my dear son, the prince, to himself.

He died in a Christian manner, after having, three days before, received

the sacrament, and exhibited repentance and contrition,--all which

serves to console me under this affliction. For I hope that God has

called him to himself, that he may be with him evermore; and that he

will grant me his grace, that I may endure this calamity with a

Christian heart and patience."[1538]

Thus, in the morning of life, at little more than twenty-three years of

age, perished Carlos, prince of Asturias. No one of his time came into

the world under so brilliant auspices; for he was heir to the noblest

empire in Christendom; and the Spaniards, as they discerned in his

childhood some of the germs of future greatness in his character, looked

confidently forward to the day when he should rival the glory of his

grandfather, Charles the Fifth. But he was born under an evil star,

which counteracted all the gifts of fortune, and turned them into a

curse. His naturally wild and headstrong temper was exasperated by

disease; and, when encountered by the distrust and alienation of him who

had the control of his destiny, was exalted into a state of frenzy, that

furnishes the best apology for his extravagances, and vindicates the

necessity of some measures, on the part of his father, to restrain them.

Yet can those who reject the imputation of murder acquit that father of

inexorable rigor towards his child in the measures which he employed, or

of the dreadful responsibility which attaches to the consequences of

them?

CHAPTER VIII.

DEATH OF ISABELLA.

Queen Isabella.--Her Relations with Carlos.--Her Illness and Death.--Her

Character.

1568.

Three months had not elapsed after the young and beautiful queen of

Philip the Second had wept over the fate of her unfortunate step-son,

when she was herself called upon to follow him to the tomb. The

occurrence of these sad events so near together, and the relations of

the parties, who had once been designed for each other, suggested the

idea that a criminal passion subsisted between them, and that, after her

lover's death, Isabella was herself sacrificed to the jealousy of a

vindictive husband.

[Sidenote: HER RELATIONS WITH CARLOS.]

One will in vain look for this tale of horror in the native historians

of Castile. Nor does any historian of that day, native or foreign, whom

I have consulted, in noticing the rumors of the time, cast a reproach on

the fair fame of Isabella; though more than one must be allowed to

intimate the existence of the prince's passion for his

step-mother.[1539] Brantôme tells us that, when Carlos first saw the

queen, "he was so captivated by her charms, that he conceived from that

time, a mortal spite against his father, whom he often reproached for

the great wrong he had done him, in ravishing from him this fair prize."

"And this," adds the writer, "was said in part to have been the cause of

the prince's death; for he could not help loving the queen at the bottom

of his soul, as well as honoring and reverencing one who was so truly

amiable and deserving of love."[1540] He afterwards gives us to

understand that many rumors were afloat in regard to the manner of the

queen's death; and tells a story, not very probable, of a Jesuit, who

was banished to the farthest Indies, for denouncing, in his pulpit, the

wickedness of those who could destroy so innocent a creature.[1541]

A graver authority, the prince of Orange, in his public vindication of

his own conduct, openly charges Philip with the murder of both his son

and his wife. It is to be noticed, however, that he nowhere intimates

that either of the parties was in love with the other; and he refers the

queen's death to Philip's desire to open the way to a marriage with the

Princess Anne of Austria.[1542] Yet these two authorities are the only

ones of that day, so far as I am aware, who have given countenance to

these startling rumors. Both were foreigners, far removed from the scene

of action; one of them a light, garrulous Frenchman, whose amusing

pages, teeming with the idle gossip of the court, are often little

better than a _Chronique Scandaleuse_; the other, the mortal enemy of

Philip, whose character--as the best means of defending his own--he was

assailing with the darkest imputations.

No authority, however, beyond that of vulgar rumor, was required by the

unscrupulous writers of a later time, who discerned the capabilities of

a story like that of Carlos and Isabella, in the situations of romantic

interest which it would open to the reader. Improving on this hint, they

have filled in the outlines of the picture with the touches of their own

fancy; until the interest thus given to this tale of love and woe has

made it as widely known as any of the classic myths of early Grecian

history.[1543]

Fortunately, we have the power, in this case, of establishing the truth

from unsuspicious evidence,--that of Isabella's own countrymen, whose

residence at the court of Madrid furnished them with ample means of

personal observation. Isabella's mother, the famous Catherine de

Medicis, associated with so much that is terrible in our imaginations,

had at least the merit of watching over her daughter's interests with

the most affectionate solicitude. This did not diminish when, at the age

of fifteen, Elizabeth of France left her own land and ascended the

throne of Spain. Catherine kept up a constant correspondence with her

daughter, sometimes sending her instructions as to her conduct, at other

times, medical prescriptions in regard to her health. She was careful

also to obtain information respecting Isabella's mode of life from the

French ambassadors at the court of Castile; and we may be quite sure

that these loyal subjects would have been quick to report any injurious

treatment of the queen by her husband.

A candid perusal of their despatches dispels all mystery,--or rather,

proves there never was any cause for mystery. The sallow, sickly boy of

fourteen--for Carlos was no older at the time of Isabella's

marriage--was possessed of too few personal attractions to make it

probable that he could have touched the heart of his beautiful

step-mother, had she been lightly disposed. But her intercourse with him

from the first seems to have been such as naturally arose from the

relations of the parties, and from the kindness of her disposition,

which led her to feel a sympathy for the personal infirmities and

misfortunes of Carlos. Far from attempting to disguise her feelings in

this matter, she displayed them openly in her correspondence with her

mother, and before her husband and the world.

Soon after Isabella's arrival at Madrid, we find a letter from the

bishop of Limoges to Charles the Ninth, her brother, informing him that

"his sister, on entering the palace of Madrid, gave the prince so

gracious and affectionate a reception, that it afforded singular

contentment to the king, and yet more to Carlos, as appeared by his

frequent visits to the queen,--as frequent as the etiquette of a court,

much stiffer than that of Paris, would permit."[1544] Again, writing in

the following month, the bishop speaks of the queen as endeavoring to

amuse Carlos, when he came to see her in the evening, with such innocent

games and pastimes as might cheer the spirits of the young prince, who

seemed to be wasting away under his malady.[1545]

[Sidenote: HER RELATIONS WITH CARLOS.]

The next year we have a letter to Catherine de Medicis from one of

Isabella's train, who had accompanied her from France. After speaking of

her mistress as sometimes supping in the garden with the Princess

Joanna, she says they were often joined there by "the prince, who loves

the queen singularly well, and, as I suspect, would have no objection to

be more nearly related to her."[1546]--There is nothing improbable in

the supposition that Carlos, grateful for kindness to which he had not

been too much accustomed, should, as he grew older, have yielded to the

influence of a princess whose sweet disposition and engaging manners

seem to have won the hearts of all who approached her; or that feelings

of resentment should have mingled with his regret, as he thought of the

hard fate which had placed a barrier between them. It is impossible,

too, when we consider the prince's impetuous temper, that the French

historian, De Thou, may have had good authority for asserting that

Carlos, "after long conversation in the queen's apartment, was often

heard, as he came out, to complain loudly of his father's having robbed

him of her."[1547] But it could have been no vulgar passion that he felt

for Isabella, and certainly it received no encouragement from her, if,

as Brantôme tells us, "insolent and audacious as he was in his

intercourse with all other women, he never came into the presence of his

step-mother without such a feeling of reverence as seemed to change his

very nature."

Nor is there the least evidence that the admiration excited by the

queen, whether in Carlos or in the courtiers, gave any uneasiness to

Philip, who seems to have reposed entire confidence in her discretion.

And while we find Isabella speaking of Philip to her mother as "so good

a husband, and rendering her so happy by his attentions, that it made

the dullest spot in the world agreeable to her,"[1548] we meet with a

letter from the French minister, Guibert, saying that "the king goes on

loving the queen more and more, and that her influence has increased

threefold within the last few months."[1549] A few years later, in 1565,

St. Sulpice, then ambassador in Madrid, writes to the queen-mother in

emphatic terms of the affectionate intercourse that subsisted between

Philip and his consort. "I can assure you, madam," he says, "that the

queen, your daughter, lives in the greatest content in the world, by

reason of the perfect friendship which ever draws her more closely to

her husband. He shows her the most unreserved confidence, and is so

cordial in his treatment of her as to leave nothing to be

desired."[1550] The writer quotes a declaration made to him by Philip,

that "the loss of his consort would be a heavier misfortune than had

ever yet befallen him."[1551]

Nor was this an empty profession in the king, as he evinced by his

indulgence of Isabella's tastes,--even those national tastes which were

not always in accordance with the more rigid rules of Castilian

etiquette. To show the freedom with which she lived, I may perhaps be

excused for touching on a few particulars, already noticed in a previous

chapter. On her coming into the country, she was greeted with balls and

other festivities, to which she had been accustomed in the gay capital

of France. Her domestic establishment was on a scale of magnificence

suited to her station; and the old courtier, Brantôme, dwells with

delight on the splendid profusion of her wardrobe, and the costly jewels

with which it was adorned. When she went abroad, she dispensed with her

veil, after the fashion of her own country, though so much at variance

with the habits of the Spanish ladies. Yet it made her a greater

favorite with the people, who crowded around her wherever she appeared,

eager to catch a glimpse of her beautiful features. She brought into the

country a troop of French ladies and waiting-women, some of whom

remained, and married in Castile. Such as returned home, she provided

with liberal dowries. To persons of her own nation she was ever

accessible,--receiving the humblest as well as the highest, says her

biographer, with her wonted benignity. With them she conversed in her

native tongue. But, in the course of three months, her ready wit had so

far mastered the Castilian, that she could make herself understood in

that language, and in a short time spoke it with elegance, though with a

slight foreign accent, not unpleasing. Born and bred among a people so

different from that with whom her lot was now cast, Isabella seemed to

unite in her own person the good qualities of each. The easy vivacity of

the French character was so happily tempered by the gravity of the

Spanish, as to give an inexpressible charm to her manners.[1552] Thus

richly endowed with the best gifts of nature and of fortune, it is no

wonder that Elizabeth of France should have been the delight of the

courtly circle over which she presided, and of which she was the

greatest ornament.

Her gentle nature must have been much disturbed, by witnessing the wild,

capricious temper of Carlos, and the daily increasing estrangement of

his father. Yet she did not despair of reclaiming him. At least, we may

infer so from the eagerness with which she seconded her mother in

pressing the union of her sister, Catherine de Medicis' younger

daughter, with the prince. "My sister is of so excellent a disposition,"

the queen said to Ruy Gomez, "that no princess in Christendom would be

more apt to moderate and accommodate herself to my step-son's humors, or

be better suited to the father, as well as the son, in their relations

with each other."[1553] But although the minister readily adopted the

queen's views in the matter, they met with little encouragement from

Philip, who, at that time, seemed more inclined to a connection with the

house of Austria.

[Sidenote: HER ILLNESS.]

In the preceding chapter, we have seen the pain occasioned to Isabella

by the arrest of Carlos. Although so far a gainer by it as it opened to

her own posterity the way to the succession, she wept, as the ambassador

Fourquevaulx tells us, for two days, over the misfortune of her

step-son, until forbidden by Philip to weep any longer.[1554] During his

confinement, as we have seen, she was not permitted to visit him,--not

even to soften the bitterness of his dying hour. And how much her

presence would have soothed him, at such a time, may be inferred from

the simple memorandum found among his papers, in which he assigns her

the first place among his friends, as having been ever the most loving

to him.[1555] The same affection, however we may define it, which he had

borne her from the first, he retained to the last hour of his life. All

that was now granted to Isabella was the sad consolation of joining with

the Princess Joanna, and the few friends who still cherished the memory

of Carlos, in celebrating his funeral obsequies.

Not long after that event, it was announced that the queen was pregnant;

and the nation fondly hoped that it would find a compensation for the

loss of its rightful prince, in the birth of a new heir to the throne.

But this hope was destined soon to be destroyed. Owing to some

mismanagement on the part of the physicians, who, at an early period,

misunderstood the queen's situation, the medicines they gave her had an

injurious effect on her constitution.[1556] It is certain that Isabella

placed little confidence in the Spanish doctors, or in their

prescriptions.[1557] There may have been good ground for her distrust;

for their vigorous applications savor not a little of the Sangrado

school of practice, directed quite as much against the constitution of

the patient as against his disease. About the middle of September a

fever set in, which, though not violent, was so obstinate as to defy all

the efforts of the physicians to reduce it. More alarming symptoms soon

followed. The queen frequently swooned. Her extremities became torpid.

Medicines were of no avail, for her stomach refused to retain

them.[1558] Processions were everywhere made to the churches, and young

and old joined in prayers for her recovery. But these prayers were not

heard. The strength of Isabella continued rapidly to decline, and by the

last of September her life was despaired of. The physicians declared

that science could go no further, and that the queen's only hope must be

in Heaven.[1559]--In Heaven she had always trusted; nor was she so

wedded to the pomps and glories of the world, that she could not now

willingly resign them.

As her ladies, many of them her countrywomen, stood weeping around her

bed, she endeavored to console them under their affliction, kindly

expressing the interest she took in their future welfare, and her regret

that she had not made them a bitter mistress;--"as if," says a

contemporary, who has left a minute record of her last moments, "she had

not been always more of a mother than a mistress to them all!"[1560]

On the evening of the second of October, as Isabella felt herself

drawing near her end, she made her will. She then confessed, partook of

the sacrament, and, at her desire, extreme unction was administered to

her. Cardinal Espinosa and the king's confessor, the bishop of Cuenca,

who were present, while they offered her spiritual counsel and

consolation, were greatly edified by her deportment; and, giving her

their parting benediction, they went away deeply affected by the spirit

of Christian resignation which she displayed.[1561]

Before daybreak, on the following morning, she had her last interview

with Philip. We have the account of it from Fourquevaulx. "The queen

spoke to her husband very naturally," says the ambassador, "and like a

Christian. She took leave of him for ever, and never did princess show

more goodness and piety. She commended to him her two daughters, and her

principal attendants, beseeching him to live in amity with the king of

France, her brother, and to maintain peace,--with other discourse, which

could not fail to touch the heart of _a good husband, which the king was

to her_. He showed, in his replies, the same composure as she did, and

promised to obey all her requests, but added, he did not think her end

so near. He then withdrew,--as I was told,--in great anguish, to his own

chamber."[1562] Philip sent a fragment of the true cross, to comfort his

wife in her last moments. It was the most precious of his relics, and

was richly studded with pearls and diamonds.[1563] Isabella fervently

kissed the sacred relic, and held it, with the crucifix, in her hand,

while she yet lived.

Not long after the interview with her husband, the ambassador was

summoned to her bedside. He was the representative of her native land,

and of the dear friends there she was never more to see. "She knew me,"

writes Fourquevaulx, "and said, 'You see me in the act of quitting this

vain world, to pass to a more pleasant kingdom; there, as I hope, to be

for ever with my God. Tell my mother, the queen, and the king, my

brother, to bear my death with patience, and to comfort themselves with

the reflection, that no happiness on earth has ever made me so content,

as the prospect now does of approaching my Creator. I shall soon be in a

better situation to do them service, and to implore God to take them and

my brothers under his holy protection. Beseech them, in my name, to

watch over their kingdom, that an end may be put to the heresies which

have spread there. And I will pray Heaven, in its mercy, to grant that

they may take my death with patience, and hold me for happy.'"[1564]

The ambassador said a few words of comfort, endeavoring to give her, if

possible, some hopes of life. But she answered, "You will soon know how

near I am to my end. God has given me grace to despise the world and its

grandeur, and to fix all my hopes on him and Jesus Christ. Never did a

thought occasion me less anxiety than that of death."

[Sidenote: HER OBSEQUIES.]

"She then listened to the exhortations of her confessor, remaining in

full possession of her consciousness, till a few minutes before her

death. A slight restlessness seemed to come over her, which soon

subsided, and she expired so tranquilly that it was impossible to fix

the moment when she gave up the ghost. Yet she opened her eyes once,

bright and glancing, and it seemed as if she would address me some

further commands,--at least, her looks were fixed on me."[1565]

Not long before Isabella's death, she was delivered of a daughter. Its

birth was premature, and it lived only to be baptized. The infant was

laid in the same coffin with its mother; and, that very evening, their

remains were borne in solemn procession to the royal chapel.[1566] The

tolling of the bells in the churches and monasteries throughout the city

announced the sad tidings to the people, who filled the air with their

cries, making everywhere the most passionate demonstrations of

grief;[1567] for the queen, says Brantôme, "was regarded by them not

merely with feelings of reverence, but of idolatry."[1568]

In the chapel were gathered together whatever was illustrious in the

capital,--the high ecclesiastics, and the different religious bodies,

the grandees and cavaliers of the court, and the queen's ladies of

honor. At the head of these stood the duchess of Alva, the mistress of

the robes, with the duchess of Feria--an English lady, married to the

Spanish ambassador at the court of Mary Tudor--and the princess of

Eboli, a name noted in history. The coffin of the deceased queen,

covered with its gorgeous pall of brocade, was placed on a scaffold

shrouded in black, and surrounded with numerous silver sconces bearing

wax tapers, that shed a gloomy lustre over the scene.[1569] The services

were performed amidst the deepest stillness of the audience, unless when

broken by the wailings of the women, which mingled in sad harmony with

the chant of the priests and the sweet and solemn music that accompanied

the office for the dead.[1570]

Early on the following morning the coffin was opened in presence of the

duchess of Alva and the weeping ladies of her train, who gazed for the

last time on features still beautiful in death.[1571] The duchess then

filled the coffin with flowers and sweet-scented herbs; and the remains

of mother and child were transported by the same sorrowing company to

the convent of the barefooted Carmelites. Here they reposed till the

year 1573, when they were borne, with the remains of Carlos, to the

stately mausoleum of the Escorial; and the populace, as they gazed on

the funeral train, invoked the name of Isabella as that of a

saint.[1572]

In the course of the winter, Cardinal Guise arrived from France with

letters of condolence from Charles the Ninth to his royal

brother-in-law. The instructions to the cardinal do not infer any

distrust, on the part of the French monarch, as to the manner of his

sister's death. The more suspicious temper of the queen-mother,

Catherine de Medicis, is seen in her directions to Fourquevaulx to find

out what was said on the subject of her daughter's death, and to report

it to her.[1573]--It does not seem that the ambassador gathered any

information of consequence, to add to his former details.

Philip himself may have had in his mind the possible existence of such

suspicions, when he told the cardinal that "his best consolation for his

loss was derived from his reflection on the simple and excellent life of

the queen. All her attendants, her ladies and maids, knew how well he

had treated her, as was sufficiently proved by the extraordinary sorrow

which he felt at her death. Hereupon," continues the cardinal, "he broke

forth into a panegyric on her virtues, and said, were he to choose

again, he could wish nothing better than to find just such

another."[1574]--It was not long before Philip made the attempt. In

eighteen months from the date of his conversation with the cardinal, the

thrice-widowed husband led to the altar his fourth and last wife, Anne

of Austria,--like her predecessor, as we have seen, the destined bride

of his son. The facility with which her imperial parents trusted the

young princess to the protection of Philip maybe thought to intimate

pretty clearly that they, at least, had no misgivings as to the king's

treatment of his former wife.

Isabella, at her decease, was but twenty-three years of age, eight of

which she had been seated on the throne of Spain. She left two children,

both daughters;--Catherine, afterwards married to the duke of Savoy; and

Clara Eugenia, who became with her husband, the Archduke Albert, joint

ruler of the Netherlands, and who seems to have enjoyed a greater share

of both the love and the confidence of Philip, than he ever vouchsafed

to any other being.

Such is the story of Queen Isabella, stripped of the coloring of

romance, for which, in truth, it has been quite as much indebted to the

pen of the historian as to that of the poet. From the whole account, it

appears, that, if Carlos, at any time, indulged a criminal passion for

his step-mother, such a passion was never requited or encouraged by

Isabella, who seems to have felt for him only the sentiments that were

justified by their connection, and by the appeal which his misfortunes

made to her sympathy. Notwithstanding some feelings of resentment, not

unnatural, when, in the words of Brantôme, "he had been defrauded of so

fair a prize," there is yet little evidence that the prince's passion

for her rose higher than the sentiments of love and gratitude which her

kindness might well have awakened in an affectionate nature.[1575] And

that such, with all his errors, was the nature Carlos, is shown, among

other examples, by his steady attachment to Don John of Austria, his

uncle, and by his devotion to his early preceptor, the bishop of Osma.

[Sidenote: HER CHARACTER.]

There is no proof that Philip was, at any time, displeased with the

conduct of his queen, or that he regarded his son in the light of a

rival. Least of all is there anything in the history of the time to show

that he sacrificed his wife to his jealousy.[1576] The contrary is well

established by those of her own countrymen who had free access to her

during her lifetime,--some of them in the hour of her death,--whose

correspondence with her family would not have failed to intimate their

suspicions, had there been anything to suspect.

Well would it be for the memory of Philip the Second, could the

historian find no heavier sin to lay to his charge than his treatment of

Isabella. From first to last, he seems to have regarded her with the

indulgence of an affectionate husband. Whether she ever obtained such an

ascendancy over his close and cautious nature as to be allowed to share

in his confidence and his counsels, may well be doubted. Her temper

would seem to have been too gentle, too devoid of worldly ambition, to

prompt her to meddle with affairs for which she was fitted neither by

nature nor education. Yet Brantôme assures us, that she exercised a most

salutary influence over her lord in his relations with France, and that

the value of this influence was appreciated in later times, when the

growing misunderstandings between the two courts were left to rankle,

without any friendly hand to heal them.[1577] "Her death," he continues,

"was as bitter to her own nation as it was to the Spaniards; and if the

latter called her 'the Queen of Peace and Goodness,' the former with no

less reason styled her 'the Olive-branch.'"[1578] "But she has passed

away," he exclaims, "in the sweet and pleasant April of her age,--when

her beauty was such that it seemed as if it might almost defy the

assaults of time."[1579]

The queen occupies an important place in that rich gallery of portraits

in which Brantôme has endeavored to perpetuate the features of his

contemporaries. In no one of them has he traced the lineaments with a

more tender and delicate hand. Even the breath of scandal has had no

power to dim the purity of their expression. Of all that illustrious

company which the artist has brought in review before the eyes of

posterity, there is no one to whom he has so truly rendered the homage

of the heart, as to Elizabeth of France.

But from these scenes of domestic sorrow, it is time that we should turn

to others of a more stirring and adventurous character.

END OF VOLS. I. AND II.

LONDON C. WHITING, BEAUFORT-HOUSE, DUKE-STREET, LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is gratifying to learn that before long such a history may be

expected,--if, indeed, it should not appear before the publication of

this work,--from the pen of our accomplished countryman, Mr. J. Lothrop

Motley, who, during the last few years, for the better prosecution of

his labors, has established his residence in the neighborhood of the

scenes of his narrative. No one acquainted with the fine powers of mind

possessed by this scholar, and the earnestness with which he has devoted

himself to his task, can doubt that he will do full justice to his

important, but difficult subject.

[2] "Post annum ætatis quinquagesimum, prementitras morbis, tantopere

negotiorum odium cepit, ut diutius interdum nec se adiri aut conveniri

præterquam ab intimis pateretur, nec libellis subscribere animum

induceret, _non sine suspicione mentis imminutæ_; itaque constat novem

mensibus nulli nec libello nec diplomati subscripsisse, quod cum magno

incommodo reipublicæ populariumque dispendio fiebat, cum a tot

nationibus, et quibusdam longissime jus inde poteretur, et certe summa

negotia ad ipsum fere rejicerentur." (Sepulvedæ Opera, (Matriti, 1780,)

vol. II. p. 539.) The author, who was in the court at the time, had

frequent access to the royal presence, and speaks, therefore, from

personal observation.

[3] A minute account of this imposing ceremony is to be found in a MS.

in the Archives of Simancas, now published in the Coleccion de

Documentos Inéditos para la Historia de España, (Madrid, 1845,) tom.

VII. p. 534 et seq.

An official report of these proceedings, prepared by order of the

government, and preserved at Brussels, in the Archives du Royaume, has

been published by M. Gachard in his valuable collection, Analectes

Belgiques, (Paris, 1830,) pp. 75-81.

[4] A copy of the original deed of abdication was preserved among the

papers of Cardinal Granvelle, at Besançon, and is incorporated in the

valuable collection of documents published by order of the French

government under the direction of the learned Weiss, Papiers d'Etat du

Cardinal de Granvelle, d'après les Manuscrits de la Bibliothèque de

Besançon, (Paris, 1843,) tom. IV. p. 486.

[5] It is strange that the precise date of an event of such notoriety as

the abdication of Charles the Fifth should be a matter of discrepancy

among historians. Most writers of the time assign the date mentioned in

the text, confirmed moreover by the Simancas MS. above cited, the author

of which enters into the details of the ceremony with the minuteness of

an eye-witness.

[6] "Erat Carolus statura mediocri, sed brachiis et cruribus crassis

compactisque, et roboris singularis, ceteris membris proportione

magnoque commensu respondentibus, colore albus, crine barbaque ad flavum

inclinante; facie liberali, nisi quod mentum prominens et parum

cohærentia labra nonnihil eam deturpabant." Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p.

527.

[7] The speech is given, with sufficient conformity, by two of the

persons who heard it;--a Flemish writer, whose MS., preserved in the

Archives du Royaume, has lately been published by Gachard, in the

Analectes Belgiques (p. 87); and Sir John Mason, the British minister at

the court of Charles, who describes the whole ceremony in a

communication to his government, (The Order of the Cession of the Low

Countries to the King's Majesty, MS.) The historian Sandoval also gives

a full report of the speech, on the authority of one who heard it.

Historia de la Vida y Hechos del Emperador Carlos V., (Amberes, 1681,)

tom. II. p. 599.

[8] Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II. pp. 597-599.--Leti, Vita del

Catolico Rè Filippo II., (Coligni, 1679,) tom. I. pp. 240-242.--Vera y

Figueroa, Epitome de la Vida y Hechos del invicto Emperador Carlos

Quinto, (Madrid, 1649,) pp. 119, 120.

Sir John Mason thus describes the affecting scene:--"And here he broke

into a weeping, whereunto, besides the dolefulness of the matter, I

think he was much provoked by seeing the whole company to do the like

before, being, in mine opinion, not one man in the whole assembly,

stranger or other, that during the time of a good piece of his oration

poured not out abundantly tears, some more, some less. And yet he prayed

them to bear with his imperfection, proceeding of sickly age, and of the

mentioning of so tender a matter as the departing from such a sort of

dear and most loving subjects."--The Order of the Cession of the Low

Countries to the King's Majesty, MS.

[9] The date of this renunciation is also a subject of disagreement

among contemporary historians, although it would seem to be settled by

the date of the instrument itself, which is published by Sandoval, in

his Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II. pp. 603-606.

[10] Lanz, Correspondenz des Kaisers Karl V., B. III. s. 708.

Five years before this period Charles had endeavored to persuade

Ferdinand to relinquish to Philip the pretensions which, as king of the

Romans, he had to the empire. This negotiation failed, as might have

been expected. Ferdinand was not weary of the world; and Charles could

offer no bribe large enough to buy off an empire. See the account given

by Marillac, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, (London,

1835, Eng. trans.,) vol. I. p. 28 et seq.

[11] "Favor sin duda del Cielo," says Sandoval, who gives quite a

miraculous air to the event, by adding that the emperor's vessel

encountered the brunt of the storm, and foundered in port. (Hist. de

Carlos V., tom. II. p. 607.) But this and some other particulars told by

the historian of Charles's landing, unconfirmed as they are by a single

eye-witness, may be reckoned among the myths of the voyage.

[12] The last of Philip's letters, dated September 8, is given entire in

the MS. of Don Tomas Gonzales, (Retiro, Estancia, y Muerte del Emperador

Carlos Quinto en el Monasterio de Yuste,) which forms the basis of

Mignet's interesting account of Charles the Fifth.

[13] Among other disappointments was that of not receiving four thousand

ducats which Joanna had ordered to be placed at the emperor's

disposition on his landing. This appears from a letter of the emperor's

secretary, Gaztelu, to Vazquez de Molina, October 6, 1556. "El emperador

tovo por cierto que llegado aqui, hallaria los cuatro mil ducados que el

rey le dijo habia mandado proveer, y visto que no se ha hecho, me ha

mandado lo escribiese luego à Vuestra Merced, para que se haya, porque

son mucho menester." MS.

[14] Sandoval makes no allusion to the affair, which rests on the report

of Strada, (De Bello Belgico (Antverpiæ, 1640,) tom. I. p. 12,) and of

Cabrera,--the latter, as one of the royal household and the

historiographer of Castile, by far the best authority. In the narration

he does not spare his master. "En Jarendilla ameno lugar del Conde de

Oropesa, espero treinta dias treinta mil escudos con que pagar y

dispedir sus criados que llegaron con tarda provision y mano; terrible

tentacion para no dar todo su aver antes de la muerte." Filipe Segundo

Rey de España, (Madrid, 1619,) lib. II. cap. 11.

The letters from Jarandilla at this time show the embarrassments under

which the emperor labored from want of funds. His exchequer was so low,

indeed, that on one occasion he was obliged to borrow a hundred reals

for his ordinary expenses from his major-domo. "Los ultimos dos mil

ducados que trujo el criado de Hernando Ochoa se han acabo, porque

cuando llegáron, se debian ya la mitad, de manera que no tenemos un real

para el gasto ordinario, que para socorrer hoy he dado yo cien reales,

ni se sabe de donde haberlo." Carta de Luis Quixada à Juan Vazquez, ap.

Gachard, Retraite et Mort de Charles-Quint, (Bruxelles, 1554,) tom. I.

p. 76.

[15] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 1.--Vanderhammen, Don Felipe

el Prudente, (Madrid, 1625,) p. 1.--Breve Compendio de la Vida Privada

del Rey D. Felipe Segundo atribuido à Pedro Mateo Coronista mayor del

Reyno de Francia, MS.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 69 et seq.

"Andauano sussurando per le strade, cauando da questa proibitione di

solennità pronostici di cattivi augurii; gli vni diceuano, che questo

Prencipe doueua esser causa di grandi afflittione alla Chiesa; gli

altri; Che cominciando a nascere colle tenebre, non poteua portar che

ombra alla Spagna." Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 73.

[16] Ibid., tom. I. p. 74.--Noticia de los Ayos y Maestros de Felipe

Segundo y Carlos su Hijo, MS.

"Et passò i primi anni et la maggior parte dell'eta sua in quel regno,

onde per usanza del paese, et per la volantà della madre che era di

Portogallo fu allevato con quella riputatione et con quel rispetto che

parea convenirsi ad un figliuolo del maggior Imperatore che fosse mai

fra Christiani." Relatione di Spagna del Cavaliere Michele Soriano,

Ambasciatore al Re Filipo, MS.

[17] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap 1.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II.,

tom. I. p. 97--Noticia de los Ayos, MS.--Relatione di Michele Soriano,

MS.--Relatione di Federico Badoaro, MS.

Charles's letter, of which I have a manuscript copy, has been published

in the Seminario Erudito, (Madrid, 1778,) tom. XIV. p. 156 et seq.

[18] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap 1.

[19] Florez, Memorias de las Reynas Catholicas, (Madrid, 1770,) tom. II.

p. 869.

[20] Ibid., tom. II. p. 877.

[21] "Tomo la posta vestido en luto come viudo," says Sandoval, Hist. de

Carlos Quinto, tom. II. p. 285.

[22] The letter is given by Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 2.

[23] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 2.--Leti, Vita di Filippo

II., tom. I. p. 132.--Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos Quinto, tom. II. p. 299

et seq.--Breve Compendio, MS.--Charles's letter, in the Seminario

Erudito, tom. XIV. p. 156.

[24] Florez, Reynas Catolicas, tom. II. pp. 883-889.--Cabrera, Filipe

Segundo, lib. I. cap. 2.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p.

142.--Breve Compendio, MS.--Relazione Anonimo, MS.

For the particulars relating to the wedding, I am chiefly indebted to

Florez, who was as minute in his account of court pageants as any master

of ceremonies.

[25] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 2.--Leti, Vita di Filippo

II., tom. L pp. 166, 185 et seq.--Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p. 346.

[26] "Non rispose che in sensi ambigui circa al punto essenziale, ma

molto ampi ne'complimenti." Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I, p. 189.

[27] Estrella, El Felicissimo Viaje del Principe Don Phelipe desde

España à sus Tierras de la Baxa Alemania, (Anveres, 1552,) pp. 1-21,

32.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 190.--Breve Compendio. MS.

[28] "Sua altezza si trova hora in XXIII. anni, di complessione

delicatissima e di statura minore che mediocre, nella faccia simiglia

assai al Padre e nel mento." Relatione del Clarissimo Monsig. Marino

Cavallo tornato Ambasciatore del Imperatore Carlo Quinto l'anno 1551,

MS.

"Et benche sia picciola di persona, e però cosi ben fatto et con ogni

parte del corpo cosi ben proportionato et corrispondente al tutti, et

veste con tanta politezza et con tanto giudicio che non si può vedere

cosa piu perfetta." Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS.

[29] Marino Cavallo, the ambassador at the imperial court, who states

the facts mentioned in the text, expresses a reasonable doubt whether

Philip, with all his training, would ever equal his father: "Nelle cose

d'importanza, facendolo andare l'imperatore ogni giornio per due o tre

hore nella sua camera, parte in Consiglio et parte per ammaestrarlo da

solo a solo, dicesi che fin hora a fatto profitto assai, et da speranza

di proceder piu oltre, ma la grandezza di suo padre et l'esser nato

grande et non haver fin qui provato travaglio alcuno, non lo farà mai

comparirse à gran giunta eguale all'Imperatore." Relatione di Marino

Cavallo, MS.

[30] This is the work by Estrella already quoted, (El Felicissimo Viage

del Principe Don Phelipe,)--the best authority for this royal progress.

The work, which was never reprinted, has now become extremely rare.

[31] Take the following samples, the former being one of the

inscriptions at Arras, the latter, one over the gate of Dordrecht:--

"Clementia firmabitur thronus ejus." "Te duce libertas tranquilla pace

beabit."

[32] "Assi fueron a palacio siendo ya casi la media noche, quando se

vuieron apeado muy contentos de la fiesta y Vanquete que la villa les

hiziera." Estrella, Viage del Principe Phelipe, p. 73.

[33] "Ictum accepit in capite galeaque tam vehementem, ut vecors ac

dormienti similis parumper invectus ephippio delaberetur, et in caput

armis superiorem corporis partem gravius deprimentibus caderet. Itaque

semianimis pulvere spiritum intercludente jacuit, donec a suis

sublevatus est." Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p. 381.

[34] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 24.

Von Raumer's abstract of the MSS. in the Royal Library at Paris contains

some very curious particulars of the illustration of the reigns both of

Charles the Fifth and of Philip.

[35] "E S.M. di complessione molto delicata, et per questo vive sempre

con regola, usando per l'ordinario cibi di gran nodrimento, lasciando i

pesci, frutti et simili cose che generano cattivi humori; dorme molto,

fa però essercitio, et i suoi trattenimenti domestici sono tutti quieti;

et benche nell'essercitio habbi mostrato un poco di prontezza et di

vivacità, pero si vede che ha sforzato la natura, la quale inclina piu

alla quiete che all'essercitio, piu al reposo che al travaglio."

Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS.

[36] "Rarissime volte va fuora in Campagna, ha piacere di starsi in

Camera, co suoi favoriti, a ragionare di cose private; et se tall'hora

l'Imperatore lo manda in visita, si scusa per godere la solità quiete."

Relatione di Marino Cavallo, MS.

[37] "Pare che la natura l'habbia fatto atto con la familiarità e

domestichezza a gratificare a Flammenghi et Borgognoni, con l'ingegno et

prudentia a gl'Italiani, con la riputatione et severità alli Spagnuoli;

vedendo hora in suo figliulo altrimente sentono non picciolo dispiacere

di questo cambio." Ibid. MS.

[38] "Philippus ipse Hispaniæ desiderio magnopere æstuabat, nec aliud

quam Hispaniam loquebatur." Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p. 401.

[39] "Si fa giudicio, che quando egli succederà al governo delli stati

suoi debba servirsi in tutto et per delli ministri Spagnuoli, alla qual

natione è inclinato più di quello, che si convenga a prencipe, che

voglia dominare a diverse." Relatione di Marino Cavallo, MS.

[40] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 3.--Leti, Vita di Filippo

II., tom. I. pp. 195-198.--Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. pp.

399-401.--Marillac, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,

vol. I. p. 28 et seq.

[41] Marillac, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I.

p. 30.

[42] Ranke, Ottoman and Spanish Empires in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth

Centuries, (Eng. trans., London, 1843,) p. 31.

[43] "Da cosi fatta educatione ne segui quando S. M. usci la prima volta

da Spagna, et passò per Italia et per Germania in Fiandra, lasciò

impressione da per tutto che fosse d'animo severo et intrattabile; et

però fu poco grato a Italiani, ingratissimo a Fiamenghi et a Tedeschi

odioso." Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS.

[44] Marillac, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I.

p. 32.

See also the characteristic letter of Charles to his sister, the regent

of the Netherlands, (December 16, 1550,) full of angry expressions

against Ferdinand for his ingratitude and treachery. The scheme,

according to Charles's view of it, was calculated for the benefit of

both parties,--"_ce que convenoit pour establir noz maisons_." Lanz,

Correspondenz des Kaisers Karl V., (Leipzig, 1846,) B. III. p. 18.

[45] A copy of the instrument containing this agreement, dated March 9,

1551, is preserved in the archives of Belgium. See Mignet,

Charles-Quint, p. 42, note.

[46] Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 199.--Mémorial et Recueil des

Voyages du Roi des Espagnes, escript par le Controleur de Sa Majesté,

MS.

[47] The letter, of which I have a manuscript copy, taken from one in

the rich collection of Sir Thomas Phillips, is published at length by

Sandoval, in his Hist. de Carlos V., where it occupies twelve pages

folio. Tom. II. p. 475 et seq.

[48] "Quanto alla religione, sia certa V'ra Senta che ogni cosa può in

loro l'essempio et l'autorita del Principe, che in tanto gl'Inglesi

stimano la religione, et si muovono per essa, in quanto sodisfanno

all'obligo de'sudditi verso il Principe, vivendo com'ci vive, credendo

cioche ei crede, et finalmente facendo tutto quel che comanda

conservirsene, più per mostra esteriore, per non incorrere in sua

disgratia, che per zelo interiore; perche il medesimo faciano della

Maumettana o della Giudea, pur che 'l Re mostrasse di credere, et

volesse così; et s'accommodariano a tutte, ma a quella piu facilmente

dalla quale sperassero o ver'maggior licentia et libertà, di vivere, o

vero qualche utile." Relatione del Clarissimo M. Giovanni Micheli,

ritornato Ambasciatore alla Regina d'Inghilterra l'anno 1557, MS.

[49] Soriano notices the courteous bearing and address of his countryman

Micheli as rendering him universally popular at the courts where he

resided. "Il Michiel e gratissimo a tutti fino al minore, per la

dimestichezza che havea con grandi, et per la dolcezza et cortesia che

usava con gl'altri, et per il guidicio che mostrava con tutti."

Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS. Copies of Micheli's interesting

Relation are to be found in different public libraries of Europe; among

others, in the collection of the Cottonian MSS., and of the Lansdowne

MSS., in the British Museum; and in the Barberini Library, at Rome. The

copy in my possession is from the ducal library at Gotha. Sir Henry

Ellis, in the Second Series of his "Original Letters," has given an

abstract of the Cottonian MS.

[50] This agrees with the Lansdowne MS. The Cottonian, as given by Sir

Henry Ellis, puts the population at 150,000.

[51] "Essendo cavalli deboli, et di poca lena, nutriti solo d'erba,

vivendo como la pecore, et tutti gli altri animali, per la temperie

dell'aere da tutti i tempi ne i pascoli a la campagna, non possono

far'gran'pruove, ne sono tenuti in stima." Relatione di Gio. Micheli,

MS.

[52] "Non solo non sono in essere, ma non pur si considerano gravezze di

sorte alcuna, non di sale, non di vino o de bira, non di macina, non di

carne, non di far pane, et cose simili necessarie al vivere, che in

tutti gli altri luoghi d'Italia specialmente, et in Fiandra, sono di

tanto maggior utile, quanto è più grande il numero dei sudditi che le

consumano." Ibid. MS.

[53] "Sì come servi et sudditi son quelli che v'intervengono, così servi

et sudditi son l'attione che si trattano in essi." Ibid. MS.

[54] "E donna di statura piccola, più presta che mediocre; è di persona

magra et delicata, dissimile in tutto al padre, che fù grande et grosso;

et alla madre, che se non era grande era peró massiccia; et ben formata

di faccia, per quel che mostrano le fattezze et li lineamenti che si

veggono da i ritratti, quando era più giovane, non pur'tenuta honesta,

ma più che mediocremente bella; al presente se li scoprono qualche

crespe, causate piu da gli affanni che dall'etá, che la mostrano

attempata di qualche anni di piu." Ibid. MS.

[55] "Quanto se li potesse levare delle bellezze del corpo, tanto con

verita, et senza adulatione, se li puó aggiunger'di quelle del animo,

perche oltra la felicita et accortezza del ingegno, atto in capir tutto

quel che possa ciascun altro, dico fuor del sesso suo, quel che in una

donna parera maraviglioso, é instrutta di cinque lingue, le quali non

solo intende, ma quattro ne parla speditamente; questi sono altre la sua

materna et naturale inglese, la franzese, la spagnola, et l'italiana."

Ibid. MS.

[56] "E in tutto coragiosa, et cosi resoluta, che per nessuna adversità,

ne per nessun pericolo nel qual si sia ritrovata, non ha mai pur

mostrato, non che commesso atto alcuno di viltà ne di pusillanimità; ha

sempre tenuta una grandezza et dignità mirabile, cosi ben conoscendo

quel che si convenga al decoro del Re, come il più consummato

consigliero che ella habbia; in tanto che dal procedere, et dalle

maniere che da tenuto, et tiene tuttavia, non si può negare, che non

mostri d'esser nata di sangue veramente real." Ibid. MS.

[57] "Della qual humilità, pieta, et religion sua, non occorre

ragionare, ne renderne testimonio, perche son da tutti non solo

conosciute, ma sommamente predicate con le prove.... Fosse come un debol

lume combattuto da gran venti per estinguerlo del tutto, ma sempre

tenuto vivo, et difeso della sua innocentia et viva fede, accioche

havesse a risplender nel modo che hora fa." Ibid. MS.

[58] Burnet, History of the Reformation, (Oxford, 1816,) vol. II. part

ii. p. 557.

[59] Strype, Memorials, (London, 1721,) vol. III. p. 93.

[60] "Non si scopri mai congiura alcuna, nella quale, o giusta o

ingiustamente, ella non sia nominata.... Ma la Regina sforza quando seno

insieme di riceverla in publico con ogni sorte d'humanitá et d'honore,

ne mai gli parla, se non di cosa piacevole." Relatione di Gio. Micheli.

MS.