The history of the century after the death of Philip II. is one of
rapid decline; with no longer a powerful master-mind to hold the state
together. Every year saw the court at Madrid more splendid, and the
people,--that insignificant factor,--more wretched, and sinking deeper
and deeper into poverty. In fact, in spite of the fabulous wealth
which fortune had poured upon her, Spain was becoming poor. But
nowhere in Europe was royalty invested with such dignity and splendor
of ceremonial, and the ambitious Marie de Medici, widow of Henry IV.,
was glad to form alliances for her children with those of Philip
III. The "Prince of the Asturias," who was soon to become Philip
IV., married her daughter, Isabella de Bourbon, and the Infanta, his
sister, was at the same time married to the young Louis XIII., King of
France.
[Illustration: Philip IV. of Spain.
From the portrait by Velasquez.]
The remnant of the Moors who still lingered in the land were called
_Moriscos_; and under a very thin surface of submission to Christian
Spain, they nursed bitter memories and even hopes that some miracle
would some day restore them to what was really the land of their
fathers. A very severe edict, promulgated by Philip II., compelling
conformity in all respects with Christian living, and--as if that
were not a part of Christian living--forbidding _ablutions_, led to a
serious revolt. And this again led to the forcible expulsion of every
Morisco in Spain.
In 1609, by order of Philip III., the last of the Moors were conveyed
in galleys to the African coast whence they had come just nine hundred
years before.
In a narrative so drenched with tears, it is pleasant to hear of
light-hearted laughter. We are told that when the young King Philip
III. saw from his window a man striking his forehead and laughing
immoderately he said: "That man is either mad, or he is reading
'Don Quixote'"--which latter was the case. But the story written
by Cervantes did more than entertain. Chivalry had lingered in the
congenial soil of Spain long after it had disappeared in every other
part of Europe; but when in the person of Don Quixote it was made to
appear so utterly ridiculous, it was heard of no more.
Philip III., who died in 1621, was succeeded by his son Philip IV.
As in the reign of his father worthless favorites ruled, while
a profligate king squandered the money of the people in lavish
entertainments and luxuries. Much has been written about the visit of
Charles, Prince of Wales (afterward Charles I.), accompanied by the
Duke of Buckingham, at his court; whither the young Prince had come
disguised, to see the Infanta, Philip's sister, whom he thought of
making his queen. Probably she did not please him, or perhaps the
alliance with Protestant England was not acceptable to the pious
Catholic family of Philip. At all events, Henrietta, sister of
Louis XIII. of France, was his final choice; and shared his terrible
misfortunes a few years later.
A revolt of the Catalonians on the French frontier led to a difficulty
with France, which was finally adjusted by the celebrated "treaty of
the Pyrenees." In this treaty was included the marriage of the young
King Louis XIV. and Maria Theresa, daughter of Philip IV., the King
of Spain. The European Powers would only consent to this union upon
condition that Louis should solemnly renounce all claim to the Spanish
crown for himself and his heirs; which promise had later a somewhat
eventful history.
Seven of the United Provinces had achieved their independence during
the reign of the third Philip, who had also driven out of his kingdom
six hundred thousand Moriscos; by far the most skilled and industrious
portion of the community. And now, at the close of the reign of Philip
IV., the kingdom was further diminished by the loss of Portugal;
which, in 1664, the Lusitanians recovered, and proclaimed the Duke
of Braganza King. When we add to this the loss of much of the
Netherlands, and of the island of Jamaica, and concessions here and
there to France and to Italy, it will be obvious that a process of
contraction had soon followed that of Spain's phenomenal expansion!
During the reign of Carlos II., who succeeded his father (1665), Spain
was still further diminished by the cession to Louis XIV., in 1678, of
more provinces in the Low Countries and also of the region now known
as Alsace and Lorraine; which, it will be remembered, have in our own
time passed from the keeping of France to that of victorious Germany.
In the year 1655 the island of Jamaica was captured by an expedition
sent out by Cromwell. It was between the years 1670 and 1686 that the
Spaniard and the Anglo-Saxon had their first collision in America.
St. Augustine had been founded in 1565, and the old Spanish colony was
much disturbed in 1663, when Charles II. of England planted an English
colony in their near neighborhood (the Carolinas). During the war
between Spain and England at the time above mentioned, feeling ran
high between Florida and the Carolinas, and houses were burned and
blood was shed. Spain had felt no concern about the little English
colony planted on the bleak New England coast in 1620. Death by
exposure and starvation promised speedily to remove that. But the
settlement on the Carolinas was more serious, and at the same time
the French were planting a colony of their own at the mouth of the
Mississippi. The "lords of America" began to feel anxious about their
control of the Gulf of Mexico. The cloud was a very small one, but it
was not to be the last which would dim their skies in the West.
The one thing which gives historic importance to the reign of Carlos
II. is that it marks the close--the ignominious close--of the great
Hapsburg dynasty in Spain. And if the death of Carlos, in 1700, was a
melancholy event, it is because with it the scepter so magnificently
wielded by Ferdinand and Isabella passed to the keeping of the House
of Bourbon, whose Spanish descendants have, excepting for two brief
intervals, ruled Spain ever since.