RENEWED WAR WITH FRANCE LATE IN 1628--RECONCILIATION WITH ENGLAND--THE
PALATINATE AGAIN--COTTINGTON IN MADRID--HIS RECEPTION AND NEGOTIATIONS
WITH OLIVARES AND PHILIP--FETES IN MADRID FOR BIRTH OF THE PRINCE OF
WALES--DEATH OF SPINOLA--TREATY OF CASALE--A "LOCAL PEACE" WITH
FRANCE--SPAIN AND THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR--POVERTY AND MISERY OF THE
COUNTRY--UNPOPULARITY OF OLIVARES--HIS MONOPOLY OF POWER--HIS GREAT
ENTERTAINMENT TO THE KING--HIS INTERVENTION IN PHILIP'S DOMESTIC
AFFAIRS--"DON FRANCISCO FERNANDO OF AUSTRIA"--THE BUEN RETIRO--HOPTON
IN MADRID--HIS DESCRIPTIVE LETTERS--THE INFANTES--PHILIP'S VISIT TO
BARCELONA--DISCONTENT OF THE CORTES--THE INFANTE FERNANDO LEFT AS
GOVERNOR--DEATH OF THE INFANTE CARLOS--DEATH OF THE INFANTA ISABEL IN
FLANDERS--THE INFANTE FERNANDO ON HIS WAY THITHER WINS BATTLE OF
NORDLINGEN--GREAT WAR NOW INEVITABLE WITH FRANCE
[Sidenote: Richelieu and Olivares]
The Spaniards for all their poverty had never ceased to send men and
money in plenty to the Emperor for his eternal war against freedom of
conscience in Germany, and to the Infanta Isabel {215} against Holland.
But Richelieu, hampered with a war with England about the unfulfilled
conditions of Henrietta Maria's marriage contract, had kept the peace
with Spain since January 1626. An English fleet co-operated with the
Huguenots at Rochelle, but Richelieu was equal to the occasion, and he
and Marshal Schomberg together sent back Buckingham and his fleet
disgraced and defeated, with a loss of two-thirds of his force, after
which--late in 1628--Richelieu, relieved of the terrible siege of
Rochelle, could turn his attention again to the doings of Olivares and
the Spaniards. The pretext for fighting this time was the old question
of the duchy of Mantua, which, being vacant, was claimed by a French
and an Italian imperial pretender; and Olivares, thinking in any case
to grab something for Spain, seized the strong place of Casale in
Montferrat, aided and abetted on this occasion by the Duke of Savoy,
who, greedy and discontented as usual, had again changed sides. As
soon as Richelieu was partially free from the struggle with the
Huguenots, he sent a French army to oust the invaders from Mantuan
territory; and once more Philip saw himself pledged to a national war
with France for a cause which was of no interest whatever to his
Spanish subjects; a war in which if he were victor he could gain little
or nothing, whilst if he were vanquished he might lose enormously.
Olivares began by concentrating his resources, recalling Spinola from
Flanders to meet the French in Italy; and once more smiling upon
England, where Buckingham, smarting under his ignominious defeat at
Oleron by Richelieu, in the previous year, {216} was raising another
fleet at Portsmouth to relieve Rochelle. He was assassinated by Felton
in August 1628, and the fleet under Lord Lindsay arrived too late to
succour the heroic Huguenots, who had been at last obliged to surrender
in October 1628. France was then free to launch her whole force
against Spain, and peace with England, which had been desirable for
Spain before, became an absolute necessity. The need was a bitter one
for Olivares, for friendship and alliance with a heretic power was an
open confession to the world that Spain's proud claim to the possession
of a divine mandate to crush heterodoxy throughout the world could not
be enforced.
[Sidenote: Reconciliation with England]
But past insincerities and present inconsistencies on the part of Spain
weighed but little with Charles I. of England against the flattering
vision of obtaining for his German brother-in-law the restoration of
the Palatinate by the influence of Philip, and he welcomed the informal
approaches which for some time past had been made to him by Olivares.
The plotting with the Irish Catholics, which had been busily carried on
from Madrid, through O'Sullivan (Count of Bearhaven), Burke (Marquis of
Mayo), the agents of Tyrone and Tyrconnel and the Irish friars,[1] was
suddenly cooled by Olivares, much to the disgust of the exiles; and the
Irish Dominican who had been sent from Spain to sound Charles I.,
reported that peace might now be easily settled in England.
Simultaneously Father Scaglia, an Italian friar, had been sent from
Turin by the Earl of Carlisle to Madrid {217} upon a similar mission,
and reported that he had seen Olivares, and that everything was ready
for Cottington's arrival in Spain to settle terms.[2] Rubens also took
a hand in the game. He was painting industriously in Madrid, and was
in high favour with Philip, but held secret credentials from Charles
I., and wrote enthusiastically about the approaching friendship of the
two countries.[3] The preliminaries were not altogether easy to
arrange. The Irish exiles in Madrid were still clamorous for armed
Spanish aid to their desired rebellion, and were discontented at
Olivares' _volte face_, whilst Charles I. himself, who had been tricked
before by the Count-Duke, wanted something definite about the
Palatinate before he sent Cottington openly to Spain. Scaglia tried
hard and hopefully all through 1628 to get matters in train. Olivares
was graciousness itself in his usual non-committal way;[4] but when the
need for peace became pressing, he tired at last of this slow progress,
and decided to send Rubens to London in the summer of 1629 with the
rank of Secretary of the Council and Ambassador.
At length, thanks largely to Rubens' personality, {218} all the thorny
preliminaries were settled, and Cottington started in November 1629,
but with strict orders from Charles that he was not to ask for audience
until the Spanish ambassador Coloma, who was being sent from Brussels
but had been delayed, should present himself in London. For Charles
was still distrustful of Olivares, and feared a trick to make him
appear the suppliant for peace. Rubens was prompt in conveying this
suspicion to Olivares, who was quite shocked that anyone should doubt
his sincerity. His letter to Cottington, received by the latter when
he landed at Lisbon, elaborately explains the delay in Coloma's arrival
in London by the necessity for the ambassador to remain with the
Infanta in Flanders for a time until the Marquis of Aytona arrived
there, owing to the loss of Bois le Duc, and ends in a holograph
postscript deploring that he should be so distrusted: "You cannot think
how this business has distressed me!"[5]
[Sidenote: Cottington's mission, 1630]
Nothing was left undone by Olivares to win Cottington, always a
pro-Spaniard. He was offered as a present the whole of the customs
dues (£5000) on a great English ship's cargo of goods, allowed by
special licence to enter Lisbon at the same time as he did, which gift
he refused, and all along the road from Lisbon to Madrid evidence of
thought for his comfort met him. On the other hand, Charles I. could
not do enough to honour Coloma when he came to a state dinner at
Whitehall on Twelfth Day, 1630, where there were so many ladies to do
him honour, writes Lord Dorchester to Cottington, "that there were many
fallings out {219} amongst them for spoyling one another's ruffs, by
being so close ranked."[6] But amiable as were the appearances, the
distrust was deep, especially on the side of the English. When
Cottington arrived within a day's journey from Madrid, he sent his
coadjutor, Mr. Arthur Hopton, ahead to discover what preparations were
made to receive him. He learnt, to his surprise, that Philip was
absent from the capital, having gone to escort his sister, the Infanta
Queen of Hungary, on her way to her new home, and that Olivares had
been left behind to do the honours to the English envoy. Cottington
was determined that this should not be, so he dodged the host of
grandees, who had been sent out with coaches and guards to welcome him,
and entered Madrid secretly by night. No sooner had he arrived at his
lodging than Olivares presented himself, but the Englishman flatly
refused to receive him there, and, entering a coach, drove off to the
palace to offer his respects to the Queen in the absence of the King,
and seek audience through Olivares as first minister.
There, in his apartment, Olivares kept Cottington in converse until
midnight, using all his blandishments to persuade the Englishman that
he meant to deal straightforwardly this time. "All my art of fence,"
wrote Cottington, "could not keep him from entering into the principal
business, yet but flashed and intermixed with other points. He could
not doubt, he said, that I had brought orders to renew the peace
negotiations at least. I said yes, if I found good resolutions to give
satisfaction to my King (Charles) and his friends {220} and allies. I
know your meaning, he said, ye would have restitution of the
Palatinate. Yes, said I; but that is not all. You know that my King
has made a league with the States, and their interests must also be
considered." The protestations and heated disputes continued between
them thus for hours; the point of Olivares evidently being to secure
the marriage of the Palgrave's son with a daughter of the Emperor or
other Spanish nominee without a prior restitution of any part of the
Palatinate. At last Olivares rose, and, taking Cottington by the hand,
said: "The King of England shall do the greatest work in Christendom,
for by his means the Palatinate shall be entirely restored, and by his
means also the King of Spain shall find peace in those northern
parts."[7]
Whilst the two statesmen were talking, the Countess of Olivares entered
with a message from the Queen, to ask after the health of King Charles.
Cottington was rigid. King Charles, he said, had sent a letter to the
Queen by him, though she had not written to him for a good many years;
and when he delivered the letter he had a good mind to tell her so, as
King Charles was very much offended. Both Olivares and his wife were
much concerned at this, and asked Cottington what had better be done.
You may tell the Queen, he replied, that she might write a letter to
King Charles, and send it to the Spanish Ambassador in London before
the King of England's letter was delivered to her. This was promised,
and when finally Cottington was led to the Queen he found her all
smiles and {221} kindness for the ambassador of her brother-in-law, for
matters were complicated terribly by the fact that she was the sister
of Queen Henrietta Maria.
[Sidenote: Cottington in Madrid]
Philip was not expected to return to Madrid for several days, and in
the meantime it was necessary for Olivares somehow to worm out the
nature and extent of the Englishman's instructions. On Monday, two
days after the interview just described, Olivares made the excuse of
taking Cottington out hawking, to get him quietly in the country and
alone all day from morn till dark. But they had no sport, says
Cottington ruefully, for the Count-Duke was so eager in his talk that
he forgot all about the hawks. The disputations, now on horseback, now
in a coach, often waxed angry. The States would not have a peace, but
wanted a truce, said Olivares. They will not have either, replied the
Englishman, unless my King's demands are granted. How can we restore
the Palatinate? blustered Olivares, which is held mostly by Bavaria.
Then Cottington in a rage said he should go back to England
immediately, as he saw they had been deceived. If you do, retorted
Olivares, we will make a league of half Europe against you.[8]
On Friday the King arrived in the capital, and great efforts were made
to persuade Cottington to leave Madrid, and make a state entry, but
this he refused to do. The next best thing was to send the whole Court
in its finest garb to accompany him to the palace for his first
audience with Philip. Nothing could exceed the honour paid him, though
{222} on that occasion nothing political was discussed. But on the
next day, in private conference, Cottington came to close quarters with
Philip. The great question, of course, was that of the Palatinate.
Philip assured Cottington that he would give every satisfaction on that
point if he only had patience until powers came from Germany. As the
Englishman left only half convinced, Philip called him back and asked
him why the English would not accept a suspension of hostilities.
Because, replied Cottington, it would look like a surrender of the
point about the Palatinate. There can be no peace, he said, until that
question is settled.
[Sidenote: Cottington's negotiations]
The weeks dragged on, every trifling point being utilised by Olivares
to keep the negotiations afoot, and relieve Spain of the strain of war
with England, without ceding--what it was clear they could not
cede--the restoration of the Palatinate, which was mostly held by the
Germans. An interminable wrangle took place about the titles to be
given to the King of England: whether he should be called Majesty,
which the Spaniards always gave grudgingly to any king but their own.
Then it appeared that the draft protocols sent by Coloma from London
gave Charles the style of "King, etc.," without his full titles, and
"Defender of the Faith." Although it was late at night when the
courier arrived, Cottington hurried off to complain to Philip of this.
The King of England shall be given whatever style he likes, laughed
Philip. Then there was a lengthy squabble about the styles to be used
by the two sister-Queens in writing to each other. When that was
settled, Cottington {223} grumbled incessantly at all this intriguing
with the Catholic Irish rebels, and at Tyrone's presence in Madrid.
Again and again Cottington, tired of Olivares' shilly-shally, was for
returning to England post haste, but the Count-Duke always managed to
smooth matters over by assuring him that they would really use all
their influence to get the Palatinate restored if he only had patience.
But at length, in March 1630, Cottington's long-suffering gave way. He
saw, he says, that he was being played with, and he sent Hopton to
England to ask permission for him to come home. Charles was loath to
give up hope, but he too was beginning to doubt the good faith of
Philip and his minister, and sent instructions that there must be no
more delay. Spain wants peace, but before peace can be made by
England, Philip must say clearly and promptly what portion of the
Palatinate he will guarantee to restore. When this message from
England was brought to Madrid by Hopton in the middle of May, Philip
and Olivares took fright, for a continuance of the war with England
whilst they were at war with France meant certain ruin for Spain, and
yet they could not take the Palatinate from Catholic hands and restore
it to Protestant Frederick.
So again the blandishments re-commenced. "Pray tell me your real
opinion," asked Philip of Cottington. "My real opinion, sire, is that
I shall return at once, unless some means be found for making peace
with the Hollanders and raising the ban against Palgrave," replied the
Englishman. Philip very rarely showed anger or emotion of any sort,
but he grew impatient and cross at {224} Cottington's insistence, which
he attributed to his personal desire to return home for domestic
reasons. Rojas, the friend of Velazquez, and Olivares' factotum, came
and implored Cottington as a friend to deal plainly with him, and tell
him whether he was really going home; and Olivares himself sent for him
late at night to ply him with remonstrances and expostulations.[9]
[Sidenote: Peace with England]
And thus the juggle went on for months, until at last Charles I.,
himself sorely needing peace, gave way and sent instructions to
Cottington to make a treaty with Spain, leaving all questions still
unprejudiced, like the agreement of 1604, with which this book began.
Thenceforward all was straight sailing, for Olivares had once more
worked his way, and attained the peace that was necessary for Spain,
and yet pledging Philip to nothing. Whilst yet the final terms were
being settled, with which Rubens was to be sent to London, news came to
Madrid of the birth of a son and heir to the King of England. On the
15th June, Philip received Cottington in full state to congratulate him
upon the news. Never in the brightest time had the old palace of
Madrid put on a braver aspect, for now that in the essential matter of
peace the King had gained his point, in that of ceremonial rejoicing he
Was determined there should be no shortcoming. Surrounded by a full
gathering of grandees in gold chains, Philip stood under his canopy
dressed in his military garb, almost English in fashion, as he stands
in the Dulwich Gallery portrait, with a splendidly embroidered scarlet
{225} ropilla doublet, a broad lace collar and "paned" hose, his breast
covered with rich jewels and with a great feather in his hat. As Sir
Francis Cottington approached him the King expressed his joy at the
news. He was as glad, he said, as if the son had been his own; and he
had prayed upon his knees for the happiness of the young prince. Then
the delighted Englishman visited the two Infantes to receive their good
wishes, they being, as Cottington says, "no less brave in attire" than
their brother. In the afternoon another state visit was paid to the
Queen, and to the baby Prince Baltasar Carlos, "in cap and feathers and
loaded with charms and jewels." Solemn proclamation of the news was
made by heralds in the public squares; the Calle Mayor and the Plaza
were illuminated as bright as day with wax torches, and a great
firework display was made before the palace. Every religious house in
Madrid held a solemn service of thanks, and all the priors visited the
English ambassador with their congratulations. Four days afterwards,
one of the big royal bull-fights, in honour of the birth of a Prince of
Wales, was given by Philip in the presence of Cottington in the Plaza
Mayor, at which twenty bulls were killed, with many horses and three
men.[10] At length the treaty of peace, the real object of all the
plausibility, was settled. Olivares had won the game again. England
and Spain were at peace, with the Palatinate still unrestored, and
Cottington left Spain, that he knew so well, outwitted for the second
time by the bland procrastination of Spanish diplomacy.
{226}
Once more the rivals, Richelieu and Olivares, France and Spain, were
face to face in North Italy; the Pope, Venice, and the new Duke of
Mantua (Nevers) being on the side of France. Richelieu was victorious
almost everywhere over the Spaniards, Germans, and Savoyards. Carlo
Emmanuele sank to the grave broken hearted, leaving his ancient duchy
in the occupation of the French conquerors, and Spinola died of grief
before Casale at the scant support and ungenerous treatment he received
from Spain. His successor, Santa Cruz, patched up an ignominious
treaty with the French in the field, to the violent indignation of the
Spaniards at home; for the country which had paid most for the war had
gained nothing by the peace. But the treaty of Casale was merely a
local pacification between France and Spain. The house of Austria must
be crushed, if France were to be raised to the first rank amongst the
nations. Olivares unhappily could not shake off the imperial
traditions which had been the ruin of Spain; and for many years to come
Spanish men and money wrung from starving Castile were still poured in
an endless stream to fill the armies of the Emperor. Year after year
the deadly struggle went on in Central Europe. Sweden and the
Protestants with France on the one side, the house of Austria and the
Catholics of Germany on the other; with Spain and Spanish Flanders as
the milch cow to provide the wherewithal to face all the progressive
elements of Europe.
[Sidenote: The Thirty-Years' War]
With the vicissitudes of this epochal war between antagonistic
civilisations the present book is not directly concerned, but only with
such echoes and influences of it as reached the Court of Spain. {227}
Battles and sieges, the death of heroes and the fall of kings, seared
their deep brand upon the page of history. Spain, bereft of commerce
and almost of industry, might in its agony protest with passionate
tears that it could suffer no more, and lower its dark brows when the
arrogant minister who ruled the fainéant King was mentioned.[11] But
through it all Madrid laughed and rioted with ghastly gaiety and pagan
fatalism, eating, drinking, and making merry, lest before to-morrow it
should die. Outside its mud walls the fields lay bare and arid, in the
provincial cities sloth and apathy ruled supreme over grass-grown
market squares and empty streets; but in the Court, "the only Court,"
the Madrileños boastfully called it, shameless waste ran riot still;
flaunting finery elbowed aside the squalid parasites that sought its
smiles and struggled for its scraps; vain shows and vainer posturings
filled the hollow days, and the witling who had pompously declaimed a
turgid epic upon the nation's glory was held a hundred times a greater
hero than he who starved in Flemish dykes, or rotted of putrid fever in
overcrowded hosts before a German city, fighting and dying, as scores
of thousands of them did, for the vague mirage of Spanish honour, of
which the Court of Philip the Great was the centre and the source.
[Sidenote: The Policy of Olivares]
There is no doubt that deep discontent {228} smouldered throughout the
country at the results of Olivares' policy. Spaniards were ready
enough to acclaim the privilege and duty of their country to set all
the world right about religion, and to interfere in the quarrels of
Central Europe. The boastful vainglory of Spanish superiority and the
hollow pretence of the King's irresistible power and wealth were as
popular as ever, though evidence of their falsity was patent in every
house in the land. But though by most Spaniards the dire effect was
not traced to its true cause, and they never thought of blaming
themselves for their sufferings, the minister who was the protagonist
of the system was held personally to be the cause of all the trouble.
Already the outer realms, Aragon, Catalonia, Valencia, and Portugal,
understood clearly that Olivares aimed at destroying their ancient
autonomy,[12] and were seething in anger against him and the triflers
at Madrid. The greater nobles, even in Castile itself, disgusted at
the monopolous arrogance of Olivares, stood ostentatiously aloof from
him, only awaiting an opportunity to retaliate. The minister had taken
care to place in the councils persons entirely subservient to him, or
those whose age or feebleness of character made them innocuous. His
principal {229} subordinate ministers were his own kinsmen,--the Count
of Monterey; the Marquis del Carpio; Marquis of Leganes; the Marquis of
Aytona; the Marquis of Heliche, who had married his only daughter, but
to Olivares' intense grief had been left a widower within the year; and
the Duke of Medina de las Torres; Cardinal Zapata, the
Inquisitor-General and member of many Councils, who was old, weak, and
foolish; and the King's confessor, Sotomayor, was a man of no
character, and entirely sold to the minister.
It will be seen, therefore, that Philip was quite inaccessible to
anyone not in the interests of Olivares. The Queen resented her
husband's isolation, but the minister and his wife kept her also well
under subjection, and her love of pleasure made her almost as easy to
manage as the King.
If it had been possible, even now, for the whole truth to be told to
Philip as to the real causes of the poverty and wretchedness that
afflicted the country, a prompt reversal of the policy that caused it
might have arrested the ruin. But, in any case, it was unlikely that
such change should be made; for Philip himself failed to see, as did
the friends as well as the foes of Olivares, that only by a frank
acceptance of the fact that Spain must abandon all her old flighty
notions and impossible claims, could prosperity be brought back to the
country. To prevent the danger of Philip's either discovering for
himself or being told by others how deep and growing the discontent of
the country was, Olivares plunged the idle young King more completely
than ever in the pleasures and distractions that occupied most of his
time and thoughts. Hunting, {230} play-going, religious ceremonies,
literary amusements, and other entertainments left no opportunity for
investigation and sustained application to business by the King. It is
evident that now, whatever may have been the case at the beginning of
the reign, the minister deliberately promoted this waste of time for
his own ends; and his efforts to distract the King increased as the
discontent in the country and Court grew.
[Sidenote: A sumptuous feast]
On the 1st June 1631, for instance, the Countess of Olivares gave a
sumptuous entertainment to the sovereigns, as she was in the habit of
doing on every possible pretext, in the gardens of her brother, the
Count of Monterey;[13] and this is represented by the contemporary
chronicler, who describes both fetes to have aroused the emulation of
her husband to give another entertainment to the King and Queen on the
night of St. John, three weeks later, that should eclipse all similar
occasions. The document from which I am quoting, written by a
whole-souled admirer of Olivares, is too long and tedious for
reproduction entire here, but a few extracts from it may be interesting
as showing now desperately the Olivares tried to please.
"Although there were but few days to arrange everything, the Count-Duke
was determined to show the extreme love and care with which he serves
our Lord the King, and how easily he conquers the most difficult tasks
by means of it. As a beginning of the preparations for the feast,
which {231} was, amongst many other things, to include two new comedies
not yet even thought of, much less written, his Excellency ordered Lope
de Vega to write one, which he did in three days, and D. Francisco de
Quevedo and D. Antonio de Mendoza the other, which they wrote in a
single day, and the comedies were handed to the companies of Avendaño
and Vallejo, the two best now on the boards, to study and rehearse."
Notwithstanding his constant state occupations, Olivares is said to
have worked night and day in personally making the preparations for the
great fete. Not only the garden of Monterey, but those on each side of
it[14] were appropriated; and a great Italian architect, who had
designed the wonderful jasper pantheon of the Kings at the Escorial,
was commissioned to build a beautiful open-air theatre and a series of
improvised edifices for the accommodation of the principal guests.
Like magic, thanks to lavish expenditure, there sprang up in the shady
gardens a gorgeously upholstered chamber or bower with chairs of state
for the King and his two brothers, and the customary cushions for the
Queen, placed in a projecting balcony from which the stage could be
seen, with two similar apartments, one on each side, for the suite, and
retired nooks or niches between them, we are told, in which the Count
and Countess of Olivares might watch over the comfort of their guests.
A {232} stage, surrounded and crowned by a multitude of lights in
crystal globes, and decked with flowers, faced the royal pavilions, and
on each side seats were provided for the ladies of the Court, but no
gentleman was allowed to be present. By the wall separating the
gardens from the Prado great stands were erected to accommodate the six
orchestras and choirs that were ordered to be present, and the
gentlemen guests, none of whom were asked to the garden itself. To
each of Olivares' great kinsmen already mentioned was assigned a
department: one was to superintend the rehearsals, another was to take
charge of the marshalling of the coaches and the reception of the royal
guests, another had under his care the refreshments, and so on.
On the day before the fête the Countess of Olivares dined in the
garden, and witnessed a full dress rehearsal of the whole
entertainment; and Madrid was agog with excitement when, after dark on
the night of St. John, all the grand folk from the palace in their
heavy coaches lumbered down to the Prado to attend the fête. At nine
o'clock the royal party were received by the Countess at the entrance
pavilion which had been erected for the purpose, the united choirs
chanting a pæan of welcome as the King and Queen advanced to the
chamber whence they were to see the comedies. Gentlemen of the
Count-Duke's household on their knees offered to the royal guests and
their suite of ladies perfumes in crystal and gold flasks, scented lace
handkerchiefs, bouquets, scented clay crocks,[15] {233} fans, etc., on
silver salvers. Then, after a flourish of trumpets and an overture on
the guitars, Quevedo's and Mendoza's new comedy was performed by
Vallejo's company. "_Who Lies Most Thrives Most_" was the name of the
piece, and we are told that it was crammed "with the smart sayings and
courtly gallantry of Don Francisco de Quevedo, whose genius is so
favourably known in the world." The principal actress was the famous
Maria de Riquelme,[16] who in verse welcomed the great guests, and
praised the King in a manner that, if he had not been case-hardened to
adulation, would have made an archangel blush, whilst at the same time
several strong hints were introduced that the Count-Duke himself was
only one degree less divine than his master.
For two hours the stage entertainment went on, with comedies, dances,
poetry and music, all present agreeing that Don Francisco de Quevedo
had in his one day's work put more wit and humour than other authors
would consider sufficient for a dozen comedies. At one of the
intervals, when the first comedy was finished, the King and Queen were
conducted to the adjoining garden of the Duke of Maqueda, where they
found a series of {234} beautiful chambers communicating with one
another, and constructed entirely of flowers and leaves. One of these
was for the King and his brothers, another for the Queen, and the third
for the ladies in attendance, and in each of the rooms were disguises
for the guests. For the King had been provided a long brown cloak,
trimmed with great scrolls of black and silver, and closed by frogs and
olives of wrought silver, a white hat with white and brown plumes, a
shield of scented leather and silver, and a white falling Walloon
collar; similar but diverse disguises being provided for the two
princes. Upon a side table in each flower chamber was a precious
casket of morocco leather and gold filled with choice sweetmeats, a
variety of perfumes, and some of the scented clay vessels of which
Spanish ladies of the day fancied the taste to nibble and even
sometimes to swallow. The Queen's disguise was like that of the King,
but with much more adornment in the way of spangles and the like; and
when the whole party had covered their ordinary garb with these unusual
additions, "strange in shape and fashion," they were led in stately
procession with much attitudinising to see the second comedy, in which,
says the awestricken chronicler, "they lost no jot of the majesty which
is not the least of their inestimable virtues and perfections."
The assumption of these fantastic disguises by the royal personages is
elaborately apologised for by the chronicler, by whom it was considered
apparently as a somewhat risky and undignified experiment; especially
as, owing to it, no male person except Olivares and his household was
admitted to the gardens themselves; the gentlemen {235} of the Court
being relegated to the stands by the Prado wall, in order that they
might not see the King unbend sufficiently to don a disguise. When
Lope de Vega's new comedy, "_The Night of St. John_," was finished, the
royal party retired to a banqueting-room constructed of flowers in the
other garden on the north. Here a sumptuous supper was served at
midnight, the King and Queen at their high table being served by
Olivares and his wife, everything being done with perfect silence and
order,--"though a multitude of dishes were carried to the musicians,
singers, and gentlemen in the orchestra stands." By the time the
lights were dimming, and the sky was turning to pearly grey beyond the
trees of St. Geronimo, the whole stately company turned out in their
coaches for a drive up and down the Prado; and then back to the palace,
doubtless to sleep.[17] When the dawn broke fully, it was found that,
notwithstanding the prohibition, a perfect host of people, men and
boys, had surreptitiously found their way in from the Prado, and,
hidden in the copses and under the stagings, they had witnessed the
whole show, including the questionable proceeding of risking the
majesty of monarchs by a fancy dress; whereupon the chronicler
attributes the quietness and {236} patience of these intruders to the
awe and reverence inspired by a king, no matter how dressed.[18]
As will be seen by this curious account, the hand of Olivares was
everywhere. From handing the King his shirt in the morning and drawing
his bed curtains at night, to deciding peace and war for the nation,
the Count-Duke did everything. The King's amusements and amours were
as much his affairs as were the routine duties of Government; and I
unearthed some years ago, and described fully in a former book of
mine,[19] a curious series of original manuscript documents which prove
that at the period now under review (1630-1635) the most secret
domestic concerns of the King were settled by Olivares as a matter of
course. The first document of the series[20] is a note written by
Olivares to the King in 1630, saying that it was high time that a
certain little boy, whose age is given as four years, should be
concealed, and taken away from the people he was then with; so that all
trace of him may be broken. He has, he says, been thinking very deeply
how this is to be done, and, as was usual with him, had found
objections to every solution that has presented itself. But he thinks,
upon the whole, that the child should be secretly put in the care of a
certain gentleman of his acquaintance living at Salamanca, named Don
Juan de Isasi Ydiaquez; and the Count-Duke proposes that this gentleman
should be summoned to Court without telling him why he was wanted; and
"after seeing him, your Majesty may decide." {237} Across this document
Philip has written in his big straggling hand: "It appears very
necessary that something should be done in this matter, and I approve
of your suggestion."
[Sidenote: One of Philip's sons]
The rest of the papers unfold the poor sad little mystery. The babe in
question was one of Philip's illegitimate children, christened
Francisco Fernando, and he was probably his first son; born, as we are
told in these papers, at the house of his grand-parents, who were
gentlefolk, between eleven and twelve at night on the 15th May 1626;
Don Francisco de Eraso, Count of Humanes,[21] leading the midwife
thither and being present at the birth, the infant being conveyed
immediately afterwards to the house of Don Baltasar de Alamos,
Councillor of the Treasury, where a nurse awaited him, in whose care he
remained until he was delivered by Olivares to his new keeper, the
hidalgo of Salamanca, who belonged to a notable bureaucratic and
secretarial family. The subsequent short career of the infant does not
enter into our present subject; but it is fully detailed in the
documents: the periodical reports of the child's progress, the grave
discussions of Olivares with physicians and keepers as to his diet and
health; the provisions for his proper education, his clothing and
diversions, his infantile ailments, the most trivial circumstances of
the child's life, are all considered and passed in review by the
minister, upon whose bowed shoulders the whole work of the State
rested. The little left-handed royalty, for all the care with which
his life was surrounded, failed to resist the bleak air {238} of
Salamanca, and on the 17th March 1634 the King's Secretary of State,
Geronimo de Villanueva, of whom we shall hear again, wrote to the
hidalgo Isasi Ydiaquez, saying "that his Majesty had received with the
deepest grief the news of the death of Don Francisco Fernando, who
showed such bright promise for his tender years, and his Majesty highly
appreciated all the care that had been taken with him."[22] And a few
days later, the little corpse, dressed in a red and gold gown, and
enclosed in a black velvet coffin, was carried with all secrecy to the
Escorial, where, in the presence of the inevitable Don Geronimo de
Villanueva, the secretary and confidential agent of the King, the "body
of Don Francisco Fernando, son of his Catholic Majesty Don Felipe IV.,"
was handed to the bishop of Avila in the porch of the church, and
buried by the friars in the vaults of their monastery.
The frowning old Alcazar on the cliff overlooking the Manzanares, so
often mentioned as the scene of Philip's festivities, was unfit for
gaiety, and offered but few attractions to him. The Escorial for
similar reasons was never a favourite residence of his; and Aranjuez
was always insalubrious except in the spring. The Court therefore was
usually in residence in Madrid itself, or in the neighbouring hunting
seat of the Prado. But there was in the extensive and beautiful
grounds attached to the monastery of St. Geronimo at the east gate of
the capital a suite of apartments used {239} by the royal family for
religious or mourning retreats, or for an occasional guest house. It
occurred to Olivares in 1631 that this place might be made more
attractive, and used more frequently as a relief to Philip from the
stern mediæval palace at the other end of the town. The idea began
with the mere levelling of an inequality here, the clearing of a lawn
there, and the building of an aviary and a few fountains and summer
houses. But very soon the Count-Duke's ambition grew, and he and
Philip became fascinated and absorbed in the building of a palace which
became to the reign of Philip what Versailles was to that of Louis XIV.
[Sidenote: The Buen Retiro]
The palace of the Buen Retiro was intended by Olivares, and truly was,
a fit setting for the elegant, chivalric, and poetic surroundings of
the King, a light and pretty retreat in the midst of enchanting
gardens, where upon stages under the trees or in high and gilded halls
the witty dissolute comedies might be played to an audience of the
elect. Nothing that the inspiration of genius, the efforts of
flattery, or the exercise of unrestrained expenditure could compass was
spared by Olivares in making the Buen Retiro perfect for its purpose of
keeping the King diverted. An immense territory, in addition to the
monastery grounds, was appropriated for the purpose,[23] and Olivares
exhausted all the horticultural knowledge of the time in laying out
{240} the grounds with lakes, grottoes, and cascades; whilst in a very
short time there arose in all its beauty the palace that in future was
to be the symbol of Philip's elegant, picturesque, but useless reign.
Even before the building itself was finished, the place was inaugurated
by a ceremony characteristic both of Philip and his minister. On the
1st October 1632, the King paid his visit to see the preparations being
made for the festival to be held in celebration of the birth of an heir
to his sister the Queen of Hungary. When he approached the new royal
house, he was met by Olivares, who had conferred upon himself the post
of honorary Constable of the Palace, bearing upon a silver salver the
gold master-keys of the Buen Retiro.[24] Kneeling, he handed them to
the King, who, touching them with his hand, signified that the bearer
should retain them; and when, later, the festivities commenced in the
recently built rooms, to continue thereafter for many days, Philip and
his wife fairly fell in love with the place, whose lightsome grace was
a revelation to them after the dark old Alcazar.
First there was a showy cane tourney, in which the King on horseback,
with Olivares at his side, led a glittering troop of riders, Philip
taking part in the festivities, as the flattering poet said, "not as a
king but as a most gallant skilful gentleman." This splendid show the
greatest poet of his time, Lope de Vega, then rapidly sinking into the
grave, celebrated in verse. "The Vega del Parnaso," {241} dedicated to
the first festival of the new palace, was an appropriate swan's song of
the great dramatist, whose inexhaustible wit and invention had done so
much to lead the thoughts of his countrymen to the theatrical
expression of which this new fairy palace was to be the apotheosis.
Afterwards there was one of the usual bull-fights; then running at the
ring, with rich prizes of silver plate, of course won by the King, and
afterwards a ball was held in the unfinished halls, at which, as at a
modern cotillon, "perfumed purses of ducats and rich dress lengths"
were given to the lady dancers.[25]
[Sidenote: Baltasar Carlos]
Only a few months before this, the Church of St. Geronimo had been the
scene of another of those stately ceremonials which were the birthright
of Spanish princes. There, upon a splendidly decked staging before the
high altar, the tiny Prince Baltasar Carlos, who had been carried
thither the day before, received the oaths of the Commons of Castile as
heir to the throne. There were two violent altercations for precedence
between nobles, even in the King's presence, before the ceremony; but
all was silence as the chubby princeling, in crimson plush embroidered
with gold, toddled up the nave to the staging, held in leading strings
by his two uncles Carlos and Fernando; the first in a few months to
sink into the grave, a silent, amiable young enigma to the last. The
little Prince, we are told, carried a miniature sword and dagger
covered with enamel and diamonds, and wore a black hat trimmed with
bugles and diamonds, and adorned by scarlet plumes. It is {242} to be
remarked that in most of these festivities Philip himself was faithful
to his love of brown for his dress; and on this occasion is described
as wearing light brown velvet embroidered with gold thread, and wearing
the collar of the Golden Fleece, whilst he rested his hand upon the
shoulder of his gentleman-in-waiting, the Count de Galve, clad smartly
in crimson satin and gold.[26]
[Sidenote: Financial exactions]
In the meanwhile, over the tinkling of all this courtly gaiety, there
echoed the distant rumbling of the storm. Mr. Arthur Hopton, the new
English ambassador, left in Madrid to look after English commercial
interests, and to push the eternal question of the Palatinate, wrote to
Lord Dorchester in February 1631: "All the Spanish Barbary garrisons
are starving, but the want of corn here is so great that every grain
from Andalusia is sorely wanted for Castile."[27] But the extravagant
expenditure on the Buen Retiro and on the never-ending war had to be
met somehow, and Olivares had to incur increased odium by inventing new
exactions. "The Count of Olivares," continues Hopton, "being the most
industrious man in his master's service, and more so in the matter of
his revenue than anything else, hath made him an instrument by
directing a new imposition on salt, making the King the owner of all
the salt that is spent, and delivering it out at 40 reals the fanega
(_i.e._ 1½ bushels), whilst remitting 12 per cent. on the wine and oil
excise that had nine years to run. This is a pretty way of imposing
{243} taxation on the clergy and religious without the leave of the
Pope."[28]
But the salt monopoly was much more than that, as Hopton soon found by
the bitter complaints of the English shipmasters, who, now that the
trade was reopened, had hoped to do a large business again with salt
from Andalucia to England. Olivares replied suavely to all his
remonstrances, that he wished to treat the English better than any
others, but the King _must_ have money, and he hoped the increased
price of salt would not alter the new friendship. It soon turned out
that the new tax was to be in addition to, and not in place of, the
wine and oil excise ("the millions," as it was called); and Hopton
displays almost admiration at the financial resource of Olivares.
"He means to keep the millions too, now that he has got the other
voted. I think it may be truly claimed that the inventor of this
project hath discovered a way to bring a greater revenue to this King's
purse than Columbus did that discovered the West Indies. Aragon has
not yet consented, but probably will do so, as the tax is to be imposed
on strangers (_i.e._ those who bought Spanish salt for export). When I
was last with Olivares he let fall a word that makes me think they mean
to satisfy his Majesty (_i.e._ King Charles of England) in another way.
I said it would require good consideration to instruct their ambassador
what reasons to make the imposition appear to be no breach of the
_Article_. {244} He said: 'Doubt it not.' I said it would be fit to
do it presently, for it would be better to come to his Majesty
(Charles) by way of reason than complaint. He replied, 'We are
providing some papers to send to the King (of England) that will not be
unwelcome.'"[29]
What this "secret affair," as Hopton calls it, was does not appear; but
doubtless it was one of Olivares' usual mystifications to keep the
English complaints from being pushed too urgently, for the hosts of
English shipmasters so long kept out of Spain by the war, but who were
now crowding into Spanish ports to trade, were clamorous about the
extortion and injustice to which they were subjected. Hopton bribed
Olivares' subordinates heavily, and besieged the minister himself; but
the resources of delay in Spanish diplomacy were infinite, and little
redress could be obtained. Of sweet words Hopton found an abundance
from Olivares, who was always ready to flatter in furtherance of his
aims, and Hopton was inclined to be boastful of English prowess. "All
the rest of the world must pardon me," said Olivares once to him, in
answer to a bit of innocent brag, "but I hold no nation fit to fight in
a royal Armada but England and Spain."[30]
Money, and ever more money, was Olivares' constant cry. "His time is
principally taken up," says Hopton, "in arranging loans." The price of
salt had been raised to 35 or 40 reals 1½ bushel for inland consumption
or export, an enormous increase "which will bring an exorbitant revenue
{245} if they can enforce it in all the kingdoms. They are also
decreeing a tax on all royal grants, titles, and appointments, which
will also bring a vast revenue." Writing to Lord Dorchester in August
1631, Hopton mentions the excessive price of all commodities in Madrid.
"I can assure your Lordship that only in regard of the value of brass
money, wherein all the trade of this country is done, what was last
year at 30 per cent. and upwards is not now worth 10 per cent., the
charge of living here since last year is one in five increased."[31]
[Sidenote: Spain's responsibilities]
Dire news too came from Central Europe, which foreshadowed the need of
yet greater sacrifices for Spain. The meteoric Swede, Gustavus
Adolphus, had entered the field on the side of France (January 1631),
and was sweeping all before him. One imperial city after the other
opened its gates to him, and some of the Emperor's feudatories who had
been considered the most loyal rallied to the victorious enemy. The
empire was altogether inadequate to face the strong new combination
against it, and could only, as usual, appeal to Spain for resources.
Looking back at the position with our present lights, it is impossible
to understand the besotted folly that led Philip and his minister to
assume the main burden of a war such as this. They had nothing
material to gain by it. The religion, and even the territorial
disputes, of the German princes were of no real importance to Spain,
and a nation in the terrible financial and industrial condition of the
latter was not justified in further consummating its ruin for the sake
of an already outworn sentiment.
{246}
[Sidenote: Fresh embarrassments]
Another trouble almost as pressing as the Emperor's war loomed also in
the near future. The old Infanta Isabel was rapidly sinking to her
grave childless; and in accordance with the calamitous agreement of
1598, the Flemish dominions of the house of Burgundy were to revert in
that case to the crown of Spain, a fatal inheritance, the Flemish
States being open to attack from France on one side and Holland on the
other, and destined to keep Spain at war until the final catastrophe
overwhelmed both nation and dynasty. Olivares had kept the two
Infantes in the background until now; though, as we have seen by his
paper of six years before, he had always foreseen the ultimate
necessity of sending Fernando, the young Cardinal, to Flanders as his
brother's representative. Carlos, silent, amiable, unambitious, and
lacking in vitality, gave the minister little cause for anxiety; but
Fernando was by far the cleverest of his house. The nobles of Castile
were already looking to him as a possible leader against Olivares; and
at last it was decided that Fernando should go to Flanders, to be near
his aunt, and succeed as Governor for his brother when the Infanta
should die. Carlos being, as he said, a man of arms, for once plucked
up spirit to protest and claim his right, as senior, to go to Flanders,
but Olivares said that after Baltasar Carlos, "who had growne sickly of
late, and there is some doubt whether the King will have any more
children,"[32] he (Carlos) was his brother's heir, and could not be
allowed to go far away. He was mollified by promises that were never
kept, that {247} he should be sent to command in Portugal or Catalonia;
but in the summer of next year, 1632, as will be told, he sickened and
died unmarried, greatly, no doubt, to the relief of Olivares, who
dreaded the possibility of his being made a figurehead by his
enemies.[33]
It was not easy to send Fernando to Flanders, even after it was decided
to do so, and many months passed before even the money could be raised
and preparations made for his going. Hopton wrote in August 1631: "The
Infante Cardinal hastens his going to Flanders, and has arranged to
borrow of the Fucars 240,000 ducats at 40,000 per month. The matter is
so forward that the brokers have received the first payment, but I do
not believe that he will go; for if he do it will be no easy matter to
stay Carlos going to Portugal, and it is not likely that the King will
leave the realm so destitute of his brothers, _and expose them to the
familiarity with those who may be dangerous to him_." A month later he
reported that, after all, the young Cardinal was not to go that year,
"but may slip away secretly, in imitation of our King's coming hither."
In fact, serious news had suddenly reached Olivares from Central
Europe. The battle of Breitenfeld, in which the Emperor's best
General, Tilly, had been routed by Gustavus Adolphus, had made the
latter master of Germany, and if he chose to march on, Vienna itself
was at his mercy. Dismay reigned amongst the imperialists at this
crushing blow, and as soon as Olivares received {248} the news at the
end of September he sent for Hopton, late at night. The Englishman
found him in great agitation. "There is no time for words," he said,
"but for God's sake send to England post haste, telling them to send to
Vienna at once every offer that may facilitate an arrangement with the
Emperor. I speak out of my goodwill to England, and I am sending to
Vienna with the same object." The real end of Olivares' move is
evident. In the critical position of the imperialists, with most of
the Emperor's feudatories falling away and John Frederick of Saxony in
arms against him, joined to Sweden and France, this was the
opportunity, if ever, for England to strike an effectual blow for the
Palatinate. It is true that the Marquis of Hamilton and some Scottish
mercenaries were already with Gustavus Adolphus, but this was not
national war; and if England could be diverted into diplomatic
negotiations during this time of the imperialists' adversity, all might
be well, but if she joined the allies the house of Austria was ruined;
and for the next few weeks, whilst the danger lasted, nothing could
exceed the amiability of Olivares to the English.[34]
{249}
Blow after blow continued to fall upon the imperial cause. Gustavus at
Mayence was practically the master of Europe, the Spanish fleet had
been defeated off Flanders. Tilly was utterly crushed and killed at
Ingolstadt, and a revolt had broken out in Spanish Sicily against the
new taxes of Olivares. Worst of all, when the minister decreed that
the salt tax should be levied in the autonomous Basque provinces, the
assembly there flatly refused to pay it. Olivares blustered that he
would send 30,000 soldiers to make them. "We will await their coming,"
replied the assembly, "with 3000 and beat them."[35] And so gradually
the policy of Olivares, which kept Spain at war with Europe for a
barren idea, was leading the outer realms of the Peninsula itself
towards rebellion, a thing unheard of for generations, because of their
fear that they too were marked out by the minister to undergo the same
fate as unhappy Castile.
[Sidenote: Olivares and England]
In the midst of all his difficulties at home and abroad, the consummate
skill with which Olivares played upon the English statesmen is almost
amusing at this distance of time. Hopton's spirits rose and fell from
week to week, as those of Anstruther did in Vienna. Olivares and the
Emperor understood each other perfectly, and had no difficulty between
them in keeping England quiet with the old bait of the restoration of
the Palatinate. A specimen from Hopton's letters will illustrate the
clever way in which Olivares beguiled his interlocutor.
"In the time my memorial was in debate {250} I sometimes took occasion
to see the Conde (_i.e._ Olivares). On one it happened that the _Ave
Maria_ bell rang, and when he had ended his prayer he examined me in
all the material points of our religion, wherein, I perceive, he is not
ignorant. In the sacrament of baptism I said all the essential parts
are the same in both Churches. But, he said, here they say, 'O! he was
christened by a minister; but I (Olivares) tell them that I see no
cause why a man may not as well be saved being christened by a minister
as by a priest.' This was in the palace, on the occasion of the
christening of our Princess, of whom they have begun to talk of as
theirs.[36] When the Duke of Lennox went to kiss the Prince's hand,
the Countess of Olivares, who was present, bade the Prince ask for his
cousin's hand, and said, 'You have a mistress there; and then, turning
to us, she said, 'We are beginning to _galantear_ (_i.e._ to court)
already.' He (Olivares) examined me upon the Lord's supper, and was
much pleased to know the chiefest difference is in the manner of the
presence. He asked me concerning divorces, and approved of the
practice of confession, though, he said, that it was too lightly
practised amongst them. Did we, he asked, receive the blessed Virgin?
I said he who did so was not considered a good Christian. He said,
'The top of the difference is the Pope's supremacy, and the chiefest
scruple was in temporalities, because you would not have him meddle in
matters of Kings.' I said yes; whereupon he shook his head and said no
more. I know his meaning, as {251} things stand between him and the
Pope. He said that if that point could be agreed I think it would not
be hard to reconcile Protestants to the Church."[37]
All this talk about marriage and reconciliation in religion had done
duty only ten years before; but apparently the English diplomatists
were as ready as ever to follow the Will o' the Wisp until the time of
danger for Spain had passed and they could safely be shelved. The
young Duke of Lennox was flattered and treated with almost royal
honours, and Hopton himself was quite confused by the sustained
amiability of Olivares. But at length even he began to doubt; and
presented a strongly worded memorial to Philip, calling upon him to
have the Palatinate restored. After inordinate delay the reply to this
was simply another promise to instruct the Spanish ambassador with the
Emperor to urge the matter again upon him. In very truth this eternal
shuttlecock between Vienna and Madrid was growing stale again; and the
English Government did now, when it was too late, what it should have
done at first, namely, talk of preparations for war. But it was only
talk; and though it frightened Olivares for a week or two, Hopton
deplored that the preparations were not being made a good earnest to
fight; "for this is the only way to bring Spain to reason, and they
themselves are making preparations for a big war."
In fact it was quite evident now to everyone that unless Spain promptly
withdrew her pretensions a great war to the death would have to be
fought with France. Her troops in the Emperor's {252} armies had never
ceased in Central Europe to meet in combat those of Louis XIII., but
the impending resumption of rule by Spain over Catholic Flanders was an
event that again threatened the integrity of France itself; for with
Spanish frontiers, north, south, and east of her, the old position that
had led to the great wars between Charles V. and Francis I. in the
previous century would be repeated; and the new France which had arisen
under Henry IV., and had been strengthened by Richelieu, would never
suffer without a struggle a return to the old state of affairs. Money,
constant, never-ending money, was the first desideratum of King Philip,
if such a war as that foreshadowed, in addition to the struggle in
Germany, was to be undertaken. The outer realms, and especially
Portugal, were in a condition of sulky apprehension; but Philip was
forced to meet the legislatures before he could get money from them.
It was a necessity that he and Olivares dreaded and hated, but it had
to be faced. All the Cortes therefore were summoned. "All to get
money for their great engagements: how great they are they know not
themselves," wrote Hopton.
[Sidenote: The need for money]
But money had to be got somehow, even before the Cortes could meet or
King go to his eastern realms. All the taxes had been anticipated, the
loan-mongers had run dry, and the silver from the indies had not
arrived. Writing in February 1632, Hopton says; "They have levied
heavy contributions on the tradesmen of Madrid,[38] but they {253}
press them not hard yet, trying mild means first, and then passing to
violent. However, they spare not those who are known to be moneyed
men; for they have sent to the Duke of Bejar for 100,000 ducats, and to
the Duke of Medina Sidonia, and others in proportion. It will be a
very great sum in all, but will be needed for the war next summer."
Cardinal Borgia contributed 50,000 crowns, and nobles, merchants, and
churchmen were squeezed as they had never been squeezed before, even in
the time of Lerma.[39] In the Cortes of Castile (February 1632) a
spirited protest for once was made, representing the poverty of the
country, and saying that it was unjust to impoverish the land in order
to send vast sums of money to the Emperor for a war useless to
Spain.[40] But, as usual, the deputies, who were bribed heavily, ended
in voting despairingly what was asked; and after taking the oath of
allegiance, as has already been described, to Prince Baltasar Carlos in
the Church of St. Geronimo, they were promptly dismissed.
[Sidenote: The two Infantes]
The journey of the King to Aragon was an {254} anxious matter.
Olivares had complicated the situation by aiding Marie de Medici and
Gaston Duke of Orleans in their armed revolt against the government of
Richelieu, to the openly expressed fury of the people of Madrid, who
hated disloyalty to a King, even if he were King of France; and the
rumour prevailed that in revenge for the action of Olivares a French
army was preparing to invade Catalonia and carry the war into Spain
itself. The risk and danger of the King's journey were urged upon
Philip, and discussed at length in his Council; but Olivares, whilst
admitting the risk, concluded that, "considering the penury of your
Majesty's treasury, ... the suffering to be incurred and the risk of
annoyance from the Cortes would be lesser evils than the loss of the
two millions (of ducats) we hope to get."[41] But though the voyage
was decided upon, of one thing Olivares had quite made up his mind,
namely, that the King's two brothers should not be left behind to plot
at liberty the downfall of the favourite they hated. Don Carlos, left
to himself and excluded from all affairs by Olivares, had fallen into a
dissipated mode of life; and both he and his abler brother Fernando
were on terms of intimate friendship with the Count-Duke's enemy, the
Admiral of Castile and his kinsmen, especially with Don Antonio de
Moscoso, who was the inseparable factotum of Don Fernando. A most
interesting paper, transcribed at length by Novoa as being written at
the time by Olivares to the King on the subject of the two Infantes,
shows how bitter and unscrupulous the {255} minister was towards these
two young Princes. The vilest suspicion is expressed as to their
loyalty, and the most cynical distrust of all their actions and words.
It had been decided to send Fernando to Flanders, but for various
reasons he had not yet been allowed to start; and when the voyage of
the King to Barcelona was decided upon, Olivares made his cowardly
secret attack upon him and his brother Carlos in the document in
question.[42] The nobles who are friendly to the Infantes are all
represented as traitors and scoundrels; and the Princes themselves are
credited not only with unworthy behaviour, but also with evil plots and
designs.
"In any case," says Olivares, "they must both be separated from all
their friends, and this voyage to Barcelona will offer a good
opportunity for doing it without attracting public notice. Fernando,"
he continues, "is already kicking over the traces, and assuming airs on
the strength of his going to Flanders; and the money he has command of
is making him dangerous. He and Carlos are close friends, and their
secret communications indicate an evil bent. Under the pretext of
these Cortes in Barcelona your Majesty might get Fernando and his
servants out of Madrid, saying that you wanted him to look after
ecclesiastical affairs there, and the noble and university members of
the Cortes, leaving him there when you return to deal with and close
the assembly. Moscoso, who has a wife in Madrid and does not like
travelling, would stay here, ... and if he was bold enough to disobey
orders and try to join the Infante, we {256} would soon find means to
upset his projects. As for Don Carlos, when the Admiral is away from
him, and the Prince absent, his household will assume a very different
aspect. Seeing the musters of enemies on our frontiers and the dangers
threatening us on every hand, it will be a good plan to send the
(Catalan) nobles to their own estates, to see what troops they can
raise, giving out that Fernando is to be their leader, surrounding him
with greyheads to keep him more enclosed, and even imprisoned, for it
is a grave crime for him to show annoyance as he does at your Majesty's
orders.... So, Sire, if we get the Admiral away from here there will
be a way to prevent him from returning, and the Infante Fernando may
remain in Barcelona better occupied than he is now, whilst Carlos,
quieter and in better frame of mind, may stay by your Majesty's side."
[Sidenote: Philip and the Catalans]
Philip as usual accepted his mentor's recommendation. The two
Infantes, fully informed by Olivares' enemies of the reason for taking
them away from Madrid, had to accompany their brother to the east, the
Queen remaining behind as Regent. Philip and his brothers, with a
large following of the minister's kin and friends, left Madrid on 12th
April 1632, the two young Princes being almost without attendants.
Fernando's reduced household were sent ahead to Barcelona, and the
Infante cried out aloud that this meant that he was not to return to
Madrid, and that the whole journey to Catalonia had been got up solely
to get him away from Court for good. The Princes, indeed, were almost
in open revolt against Olivares; and {257} it was noticed that they
travelled with loaded pistols at their saddle-bows, a thing never seen
before. After a stay of a week in Valencia, where Cortes were convoked
and swore allegiance to the little Prince Baltasar Carlos, the whole
Court moved on to Barcelona, where the great struggle for money was
expected, for the stout Catalans were determined now that they would
make a stand against the encroachments of Olivares on their liberties.
The Viceroy, the Duke of Cardona, met the King at Murviedro, and warned
him that the Catalans were in a dangerous mood. They objected to vote
any more money, objected to a royal Prince for a Viceroy,--it was the
duty of the King himself, they said, to come to them, and remain whilst
the Cortes were in session, and they would not be contented unless the
King stayed at least four months with them. All along the road the
King and his favourite found the people scowling, and at Tortosa they
broke out in subversive cries because he only stayed a few hours in the
town.
At Barcelona the King found the Cortes of Catalonia more recalcitrant
than ever, opposing endless difficulties to everything proposed, and
advancing all sorts of old claims with regard to ceremonial and ancient
privilege, each one of which had to be discussed interminably.[43] At
last the ordinary supply was voted without increase, and the Infante
Fernando was accepted by the Catalans as Governor with a sufficiently
ill grace. Fernando himself was furious, and protested to his brother
and Olivares hotly that he was being {258} isolated in the interests of
the latter, without the chance of distinction and elevation that he
would have gained in Flanders. But he was at last reconciled by
mingled flattery, cajolery, and appeals to duty, and remained as
Governor to continue the Cortes, closely surrounded by mentors in the
interests of Olivares.[44] Lerida had refused to send members to the
Barcelona Cortes at all, and as Philip approached the city on his way
home it was given out that he intended to punish it for its
disobedience. Terrified, the city fathers came to meet the King and
pray for pardon, which, only with difficulty and a complete submission,
was partially accorded to them. When the Court arrived at Almadrones,
two or three days' journey from Madrid, they were met by Antonio
Moscoso, with an ostentatious train of followers and servants, on his
way to join the Infante Fernando at Barcelona. This could never be
allowed, and the King's confessor ordered Moscoso to return to Madrid
at once. He appealed and wept in vain at the humiliation of such a
return; but was told that the King's orders must be obeyed without
reply. When he went to kiss Philip's hand, the King, immovable as a
statue, drily asked, "When are you leaving?" "I must speak to the
Count-Duke first, your Majesty," replied Moscoso. "You will be too
late," said Philip, "for he was going to rest at once, and {259} would
not awake till ten at night, in order to set out on the road from
twelve to one."[45] So Moscoso was fain to turn back with a heavy
heart, explaining by the way to Olivares that the Infante had sent for
him, and he meant no harm. But though Olivares tried to lay the whole
of the responsibility upon the King, this insult rankled deeply in the
breast of the Infante Fernando, and was one more mark for vengeance
scored up by the enemies of the minister. An indignant and formal
complaint was made to the King by his brother, and in order to ensure
its attention it was handed to Philip by his wife, much to the dismay
of Olivares, who knew now that Isabel of Bourbon was the head of his
foes, and that he could not dispose of her as he had done of the
Infante.
[Sidenote: Death of Don Carlos]
As soon as Philip returned to Madrid, at the end of June 1632, the
occasion was celebrated by another great _auto-de-fé_ in the Plaza
Mayor, where the King and Queen with the Infante Carlos sat in their
balcony from eight in the morning (3rd July 1632) till late in the
afternoon, witnessing the indictment, the preaching of prosy sermons,
and the reading of legal documents, reciting the errors and heresies of
the poor wretches who stood upon the high scaffold in the midst of the
square, dressed in sambenitos. The ghastly rejoicing, such as it was,
soon turned to mourning. The Infante Carlos had fallen ill on the way
home from Barcelona, but had partially recovered on his arrival at
Madrid. The summer was the most oppressive that had been experienced
for years, and the young Infante--he {260} was only twenty-five--fell
ill of fever in Madrid, and died in a few days;[46] and Olivares had
one less difficulty to contend with, though the amiable, unambitious
young man was of himself inoffensive.
[Sidenote: France and Spain]
Nor was it long before the other Infante was removed from the path of
Olivares. The old Infanta Isabel ended at last her strenuous life in
1633, and Fernando was sent by way of Italy to the States of Flanders
to govern the fatal dominion for Spain once more, to Spain's ultimate
undoing. Fernando was able and ambitious. From Milan he was to lead a
large Spanish force to Flanders. But affairs had gone ill with the
imperial cause. Gustavus Adolphus, it is true, had fallen; but in the
fight at which he fell he had beaten Wallenstein, with the loss of
12,000 men on the imperialist side. On the appeal of the Emperor,
Fernando turned aside, and a critical moment when the imperialists were
delivering the attack he arrived before the Protestant city of
Nördlingen (September 1634). His presence turned the scale, for a
relieving force {261} of Swedes was just approaching, and the ensuing
battle, one of the most decisive in the Thirty Years' War, was a
crushing defeat to the Swedes and the Protestants. The Cardinal
Infante passed on his way triumphant to his new governship, crowned by
the laurels of victory and the plaudits of his countrymen. But his
active intervention in the war with Spanish Government troops changed
the aspect of the war. The Swedes were no longer the leaders of a
federation of Protestants against a federation of Catholics. It was
clear to Richelieu that unless with the whole force of France he threw
himself into the fray against the house of Austria, not only
Protestantism in Germany would suffer--for that indeed he cared
nothing, but the vital interests of France. And so it happened that
when the Cardinal Infante was entering Brussels in pompous triumph,
Richelieu had already heavily subsidised the Dutch for an active
renewal of their war against him; and within a few months, early in
1635, Spain herself was in the grip of a great national struggle with
France, a struggle which extended as time went on from her Flanders
dominions to her Italian possession, and from the Franche Comté to the
sacred soil of Spain itself.
[1] See letters from Madrid to Eugene Field in the Monastery of
Timoleague, etc., in Record Office, S.P. Spain 34, 1627.
[2] Scaglia to Carlisle. Record Office, S.P. Spain 34, MS., 19th
January, 1628.
[3] Rubens to Carlisle. Record Office, S.P. Spain 34, MS., January
1628, etc.
[4] A good specimen of his style is seen in his reply to a letter from
Scaglia early in April 1629 (Record Office, S.P. Spain 34, MS.), asking
for an audience at the desire of Lord Carlisle, in order to tell
Olivares how much Carlisle esteems him. "I will give this audience to
your lordship very willingly to-night (writes Olivares), and it will
give me most particular pleasure to talk about the Earl of Carlisle, of
whom I am the most affectionate servitor, and have been so all through
the worst tribulations; although when he was here I always considered
him a friend of France.... The differences that have taken place
between us are all owing to French intrigue."
[5] Record Office, S.P. Spain 34, MS., December 1629.
[6] Record Office, S.P. Spain 34, 10th January 1630.
[7] Cottington to Dorchester, 29th January 1630, Record Office, S.P.
Spain 34, MS.
[8] Cottington to Dorchester, 29th January 1630. Record Office, S.P.
Spain MS.
[9] Cottington to Dorchester, MS. Record Office, S.P. Spain 34, many
letters in 1630.
[10] Cottington to Dorchester, July 1630, Record Office, S.P. Spain MS.
[11] W. Gardiner, writing to Lord Dorchester when Cottington landed at
Lisbon in 1629, says: "This city has now lost all its ancient splendour
since I was here seventeen years ago. It is now completely ruined.
All the merchants are bankrupt, and all their commodities are gone
except their diamonds, Brazil tobacco, and coarse sugar, all of which
are dearer here than in Holland. There is great discontent with
Castilian rule, and especially some new laws whose object is to bring
them more absolutely under the King." Record Office, S.P. Spain 34, MS.
[12] In a letter sent by Abbé Scaglia to Lord Carlisle in 1628 a long
document is enclosed, drawn up by the Marquis of Leganes, who was
Olivares' principal instrument and a kinsman, advocating the absorption
of Portugal by Spain. The evil and danger of the existing want of
unity are pointed out, and the need to arouse a united national spirit
is enforced. This document, supplementing those of Olivares himself
quoted on an earlier page, show that the propaganda in favour of
national unity was pushed persistently, and the outer realms were
naturally alarmed and disturbed at the threat implied to them. Record
Office, S.P. Spain 34, MS.
[13] The house and garden of Monterey occupied the centre portion of
the space facing the Salon del Prado between the Calle de Alcalá and
the Carrera de San Geronimo.
[14] Occupying thus the whole of the space from the Calle de Alcalá to
the Carrera de San Geronimo. That on the north is now covered by the
new Bank of Spain, and that on the south is still the palace of the
Duke of Villahermosa, the descendant of the Duke of Maqueda, to whom it
then belonged.
[15] These very fine pieces of red biscuit clay unglazed and highly
scented were much prized; and it was a vicious fashion, of ladies
particularly, to masticate or eat this ware.
[16] This beautiful and gifted actress, the idol of the susceptible
Madrileños, was also for a wonder at that period a decent member of
society. She was a member of the charitable fraternity of Nuestra
Señora de la Novena, and was very devout. She died in 1656, and was
buried at Barcelona in the Augustan Monastery of St. Monica, where
there was a special actors' chapel. Fifty years afterwards, her body,
and even the veil in which it was enveloped, were found incorrupt, and
she was thenceforward considered almost a saint. Juan de Caramuel
wrote of her: "She was a beautiful girl, gifted with so vehement an
imagination that, to the surprise of everyone, when she was acting her
colour changed in accordance with the emotions she portrayed. If the
event represented were a pleasant one, her face was rosy, whilst pallor
cloaked her cheeks when the play was sad and sorrowful. In this she
was unique and inimitable."
[17] Less than a fortnight after this costly feast, a terrible fire,
which threatened all Madrid with destruction, and demolished in the
three days it lasted half of the Plaza Mayor, took place (7th July
1631). The loss and terror of the people were great; but so wedded was
the capital to shows, that almost before the ashes were extinguished a
great royal bull-fight in the presence of the King and Court was held
in the still smoking square. During the corrida a house in the Plaza
caught fire again, and many of the panic-stricken people in their
efforts to escape were trampled upon and seriously injured. It is
stated that Philip did not even rise from his seat, and ordered the
bull-fight to proceed.
[18] MS. account reproduced in Mesonero Romanos' _Antigua Madrid_.
[19] _The Year after the Armada, and Other Historical Studies_.
[20] Egerton MSS. 329, British Museum.
[21] This was a well-known noble poet and friend of Philip's in his
dramatic amusements.
[22] Philip showed his appreciation of the services of Don Juan Isasi
Ydiaquez in the most flattering way, by at once appointing him governor
and tutor of his legitimate son and heir, the promising little Don
Baltasar Carlos, then five years old.
[23] The vast park of Madrid represents part of the grounds which ran
up from the present line of the Prado to the extreme end of the present
park on the east, and included the whole space from the Alcala to the
Atocha. Olivares had kept his plan secret from the King as long as he
could, having gradually acquired the ground without disclosing his
intention. The Venetian ambassador Corner mentions in 1635 with
surprise that the whole place had sprung up in two years.
[24] The only portions of the palace now remaining are the Artillery
Museum, and the fine concert hall, built by Philip V., and decorated by
Luca Giordiano. The ancient church of the monastery, of course, still
exists.
[25] At all these festivities it was the fashion for the company to
pelt each other with egg-shells filled with scent.
[26] MSS Add. 1026, British Museum.
[27] Sir Arthur Hopton's Notebook MS., British Museum, Egerton, 1820.
[28] The meaning of this is that nobles and clergy were exempt from the
food excise, but all consumers of salt would have to pay the increased
price. But, in fact, the excise was not remitted after all.
[29] Hopton's MS. Notebook, British Museum.
[30] _Ibid._
[31] Hopton's MS. Notebook, British Museum.
[32] Hopton's MS. Letter-book.
[33] There is an extremely curious medical report on the health and
habits of Carlos in one of Hopton's letters from Madrid, in July 1632.
MS. Notebook.
[34] This was indeed the crucial time in the fate of the Palatinate.
In the contest of ambitions in Germany only a bold course, both towards
Spain and the Empire on the part of England, would have been effectual.
But poor Frederick at the Court of Gustavus promptly came to understand
that whilst his English brother-in-law held aloof from the war he could
expect little consideration. At this very period Charles I. was
principally interested in adding to his picture gallery. Cottington,
writing to Hopton, 10th November (O.S.) 1631, says: "You must tell the
Count of Benavente from the King that the copie of the Venus of the
Prado is now ready for him, with a picture of his Majesty, if he will
give him his St. Philip for them. You must remember to send the King
the painted grapes which the poore fellow hath drawn for him."
Hopton's MS. Notebook.
[35] Hopton's MS. Notebook.
[36] Mary Stuart, afterwards Princess of Orange, whom it was proposed
to betroth to the Prince Baltasar Carlos.
[37] Hopton's MS. Notebook, January 1632.
[38] There is in the Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, a draft of the royal
order, petitioning those who could afford it to come to the assistance
of the King with money at this juncture (January 1632).
[39] Hopton, writing at this time, says: "The King told the Cortes that
if the war goes on he will have to call upon them again. Though how
the country will beare it I know not, for in all the kingdom of Castile
their poverty is not to be dissembled. I am informed for a certainty
that the procuradores of Andalucia have told the King plainly that if
the peace with England be kept they will be able to serve him, but if
not they cannot do it." MS. Notebook.
[40] Hopton, writing during the session of this Cortes, 4th March 1632,
gives an account of the anger of Olivares and the King at the cities
that had not given their representatives full powers to vote supplies,
whilst the cities themselves were very angry at the demand for
6,000,000 ducats (_i.e._ in three years), and a renewal of the excise
in addition to the salt tax. "A decree is lately issued for a donation
through all the realm, which is put into practice by sending gentlemen
of qualitie to every man's doore and taking their almes down as lowe as
foure reales." Hopton's MS. Notebook.
[41] Decision of the Council of State, 23rd March 1632. Danvila, _El
Poder Civil en España_.
[42] _Memorias de Matias de Novoa_. vol. i. p. 133.
[43] They are all set forth in the documents reproduced in Danvila's
_Poder Civil en España_.
[44] There were endless squabbles between the Infante Fernando and the
Catalan deputies on all manner of subjects. He objected to the
deputies being covered before him; they insisted upon it as their
right. He forbade them to repair and strengthen the city walls; they
at once employed three times as many men on it as before. But, said
Hopton, writing on the subject: "He is doubtless a most sweete young
Prince. All are ready to forgive him and lay all the blame on Count
Oñate, who is with him." MS. Notebook.
[45] The heat was very great, and the King consequently travelled by
night. Novoa.
[46] On the 29th July, Hopton wrote: "Don Carlos was sick for seventeen
days with ordinary ague at first, but at the end of eight days it
turned to tabardillo (spotted typhus) with convulsions. My man has
come in from the palace whilst I am sealing up this, and says he is not
yet dead, but cannot live two hours. All things for his funeral are
prepared, and blacks taken up, and servants that are to wait on his
body to ye Escorial are commanded to be in readiness so that your
honour (Coke) may take it that this gallant young Prince is a dead
man." Hopton's MS. Notebook. In another letter he wrote of the
distress of the people at the Infante's death: "The mourning could not
be more hearty for the King, and they have good reason, for he was a
Prince that never offended any man willingly, but did good offices for
all; being bred upp amonge them to as much perfection as they could
expect." Writing an unofficial letter to Cottington on the same day,
Hopton gives some extremely curious private details of the causes of
the Prince's illness, which cannot be here translated. But he
continues: "The poore Conde de Olivares is the scape, goat that must
bear all men's faults; but he is very much afflicted, for he was very
sure of this Prince's love, whatsoever the world sayeth."
{262}