time of Bristol and Aston, and had lately negotiated the marriage with
Catharine of Braganza. He, stout loyalist as he had been during all
the Commonwealth, was Sir Richard Fanshawe, Baronet, now, and in high
favour with Charles, who, it was thought, would have made him Secretary
of State. He was instructed to set forth to Philip the benefit that
{496} would accrue to both States from a reopening of maritime trade,
and to say how anxious the King of England was to be friendly with the
Catholic King, whom he esteemed so highly, notwithstanding the refusal
of Spain to deal with him during the Commonwealth and the expulsion of
his agents from Madrid at that time, as well as the closing of the
Spanish ports to Prince Rupert's fleet. The matter of Portugal was to
be very tenderly handled. Fanshawe was instructed to say that the King
of Spain "cannot imagine that we will ever persuade him to deprive
himself of his reputed right to the kingdom of Portugal, but whether
the determination of that difference may not be advantageously
suspended till a more favourable conjuncture, and until the crown of
Spain be less liable to accidents, will be his part to judge."[46]
Fanshawe arrived in Cadiz on the 24th February (O.S.) 1664, and nothing
could exceed the honour shown to the English ambassador and his wife by
the magnates of Andalucia. The keys of the city were tendered to him
in a "great silver basin," and he was asked to give the password for
the night, which, courtier like, he did in the form of "_Viva el Rey
Catolico_." Very different was the welcome that had awaited poor
Ascham in the same port fourteen years before; though Fanshawe,
overcome by all this ceremonious posturing, hoped that it was "not
instead of substance, for then it would be very tedious and irksome to
me, indeed, but an earnest prognostick of it, which {497} time will try
when I come to treat."[47] Everywhere, as Fanshawe travelled towards
the capital, he was treated with almost royal honours; bull-fights,
cane-tourneys, and, of course, the usual comedies being offered by
nobles on the way: and it was the 7th May before he reached Vallecas in
the outskirts of Madrid, where he remained for a time, as Philip was
staying at Aranjuez, and no house had been provided in the capital for
Fanshawe's accommodation; the famous "house with the seven chimneys"
being then occupied by the Venetian ambassador.
For the next five weeks the exchange of visits of compliment and
ceremonial generalities with the Duke of Medina de las Torres, now
Philip's principal minister, and many other nobles and officials,
occupied the time of Fanshawe and his clever wife; who wrote, "Though
the men visited my husband, I could not suffer the ladies to visit me,
though they much desired it, because I was so straitened in lodgings
that in no sort were they convenient to receive persons of that
quality, in not being capacious enough for my own family." The gossips
of the Calle Mayor were full of the visit of the English peace-envoy,
and saw all manner of grave political import in the difficulty of
finding him a house; though Fanshawe himself attributes it to its true
cause, namely, the insufficient house room in the capital; though he
offered _carte blanche_ as to terms, and to pay a year's rent in
advance in silver. After much delay and {498} resistance on the part
of the Venetian ambassador, who wished to retain the house after his
departure for the accommodation of his successor, the English
ambassador was once more housed in the "house with the seven chimneys,"
after he had stayed for a time at a house standing in its own grounds
outside the Fuencarral gate at Santa Barbara.
[Sidenote: Fanshawe's state entry]
At length, Philip having returned from Aranjuez, Fanshawe made his
state entry into the capital, and had his first audience of Philip.
"On Wednesday the 8/18th June," says Lady Fanshawe, "my husband had his
audience of his Catholic Majesty, who sent the Marquis de Malpica to
conduct him, bringing him a horse of his Majesty for my husband to ride
on, and thirty more for his gentlemen, and his Majesty's coach with his
guard, that he (_i.e._ Malpica) was captain of. No ambassador's coach
accompanied my husband but the French, who did it contrary to the
King's command, who had before, upon my husband's demanding the custom
of ambassadors accompanying all other ambassadors that came to this
Court at their audience, replied that, although it had been so it
should never be again; saying that it was a custom brought into this
Court within less than twenty-five years.[48] My husband, about eleven
of the clock, set forth out of his lodgings thus. First went all those
gentlemen of the town and palace that came to {499} accompany my
husband, then went twenty footmen, all in new liveries of the same
colour we used to give, which is dark green cloth with a frost upon
green lace. Then went all my husband's gentlemen, and next before
himself his _camarados_, two and two (here follow the eight names).
Then my husband, in a very rich suit of clothes, of a dark fille
(feuille) morte brocade laced with silver and gold lace, nine laces,
every one as broad as my hand, and a little silver and gold lace laid
between them, both of very curious workmanship. His suit was trimmed
with scarlet taffeta ribbon, his stockings of white silk upon long
scarlet silk ones, his shoes black with scarlet shoe-strings and
garters, his linen very finely laced with very rich Flanders lace, a
black beaver buttoned on the left side with a jewel of twelve hundred
pounds, a curious wrought old gold chain made at the Indies, at which
hung the King his master's picture richly set with diamonds, cost three
hundred pounds, which his Majesty in great grace and favour had been
pleased to give him at his coming home from Portugal. On his fingers
he wore two very rich rings, his gloves trimmed with the same ribbon as
his clothes. All his whole family (_i.e._ suite) was very richly
clothed according to their several qualities."[49]
In this great magnificence Sir Richard Fanshawe rode through Madrid
with the Marquis of Malpica by his side, followed by the Teuton guard,
groups of pages and lackeys, and then the royal coach. After that came
a coach drawn by four black horses, the finest state coach, says Lady
Fanshawe, that ever {500} came out of England, and to describe its
grandeur nothing but the lady's own words will do justice.
"It was of rich crimson velvet, laced with broad silver and gold lace,
fringed round with a massy gold and silver fringe, and the falls of the
boots so rich that they hung almost down to the ground. The very
fringe cost almost four hundred pounds. The coach was very richly gilt
on the outside, and very richly adorned with brass work, with rich
tassels of gold and silver hanging round the top of the curtains round
about the coach. The curtains were of rich damask fringed with silver
and gold. The harness for six horses was richly embossed with brass
work, with reins and tassels for the horses of crimson silk, silver and
gold. That coach is said to be the finest that ever entered Madrid."
After it followed a host of other coaches, which, fine as they were,
must have appeared dull by the side of such a chariot as this.
Fanshawe passed through an admiring crowd both outside and inside the
palace, for the Madrileños ever loved finery; and at length reached the
presence of Philip, who received him courteously, and many
complimentary speeches, meaning nothing, were exchanged; after which
ceremonious visits had to be paid to Queen Mariana and her children,
the Infanta Margaret, now called the Empress, by virtue of her
betrothal to her uncle, and the scrofulous rickety infant, Don Carlos,
now Philip's only son.
[Sidenote: Lady Fanshawe in Madrid]
A week afterwards, Sir Richard had his first private interview with the
King at the Buen Retiro. Philip was ill, and unequal now to much
exertion, so that after Fanshawe's long address on the need {501} for
peace, and the conditions upon which it might be attained, he could
only request that the whole of the points might be put in writing for
his careful consideration. Soon after this, on the 27th June, Lady
Fanshawe first went to salute Queen Mariana, and thus gives her
impressions of what she saw--
"I waited on the Queen and the Empress (_i.e._ the little Infanta
Margaret) with my three daughters and all my train. I was received at
the Buen Retiro by the guard, and afterwards when I came upstairs by
the Marquesa de Hinojosa, the Queen's _Camarera Mayor_. Through an
infinite number of people I passed to the Queen's presence, where her
Majesty was seated at the upper end under a cloth of state upon three
cushions, and on her left hand the Empress upon three more. The ladies
were all standing. After making my last reverence to the Queen, her
Majesty and the Empress, rising up and making me a little curtsey, sat
down again. Then I, by my interpreter, Sir Benjamin Wright, said those
compliments that were due from me to her Majesty, to which her Majesty
made a gracious and kind reply. Then I presented my children, whom her
Majesty received with great grace and favour. Then her Majesty,
speaking to me to sit, I sat down upon a cushion laid for me above all
the ladies, but below the Camarera Mayor (no woman taking place of her
but Princesses). The children sat on the other side, mingled with the
Court ladies that are maids-of-honour. Thus, after passing half an
hour in discourse, I took my leave of her Majesty and the {502}
Empress, making reverences to all the ladies in passing."
Of the various times the Fanshawes saw the King or Queen no detailed
account need be given here, as the descriptions add nothing to our
knowledge; nor is it necessary to dwell upon the accounts given of the
Court diversions, which have already been described fully in the
earlier pages of this book. Lady Fanshawe's opinions, however, of
Spain and Spaniards generally are quaint. She thinks that the usually
accepted English idea that Spain is a land of famine is unjust,
especially for those who could afford to pay.
"There is not in the Christian world," she says, "better wines than
their midland (_i.e._ southern) wines, especially sherry and canary.
Their water tastes like milk, and their wheat makes the sweetest and
best bread in the world. Bacon is beyond belief good; the Segovia veal
much whiter, larger, and fatter than ours. They have a small bird that
lives and fattens on grapes and corn--so fat that it exceeds the
quantity of flesh. They have the best partridges I ever ate, and the
best sausages, and salmon, pike, and seabream, which they send up in
pickle called escabeche in Madrid; and dolphins, which are excellent
meat,[50] besides carps and many other sorts of fish. The cream called
nata is much sweeter and thicker than ever I saw in England. Their
eggs much exceed ours; and so all sorts of salads, roots, and
fruits.... Besides that, I have ate many sorts of biscuits, cakes,
cheese, and excellent sweetmeats.... Their olives, which are {503}
nowhere so good. Their perfumes of amber excel all the world in their
kind, both for clothes, household stuff, and fumes; and there is no
such waters made as at Seville."
The good lady, too, was much enamoured of the courtesy of Spaniards.
"They are civil to all, as their qualities require, with highest
respect; so I have seen a grandee and a duke stop his horse, when an
ordinary woman passeth over a kennel, because he would not spoil her
clothes, and put off his hat to the meanest woman that makes reverence,
though it be to their footmen's wives.... They are punctual in visits,
men to men and women to women. They visit not together, except their
greatest ministers of State to wives of public ministers from
Princes.... They are generally pleasant and facetious company, but in
this their women exceed, who seldom laugh and never aloud, but are the
most witty in repartees and stories and notions in the world.... They
work little, but that rarely well, especially in monasteries (_i.e._
convents). They all paint white and red, from the Queen to the
cobbler's wife, old and young, widows excepted, which never go out of
close mourning, nor wear gloves nor show their hair after their
husband's death, and seldom marry. They delight much in the feasts of
bulls and in stage plays, and take great pleasure to see their little
children act before them in their own houses, which they will do to
perfection.... Until their daughters marry they never stir so much as
down stairs, nor marry for no consideration under their quality, which
to {504} prevent, if their fortunes will not procure them husbands,
they make them nuns. They are very magnificent in their houses,
furniture, pictures of the best, jewels, plate, and clothes; most noble
in presents, entertainments, and in their equipage."[51]
Fanshawe's mission made but slow progress, for the pride of Spain with
regard to Portugal still stood in the way, and Philip was hoping
against hope that the campaign of the following year, 1665, would
restore to him the crown he had lost. He was still straining every
nerve to get money; and as a last fatal resource in order to relieve as
he hoped the distress of the treasury, he now reduced the value of the
silver money to half, so that, as Lady Fanshawe says, "the pistole that
was this morning at 82 _reals_ was now proclaimed to go but for 48,
which was above £800 loss to my husband."[52] At length, in the
spring, by such devices as this--seizing all the securities lodged for
loans, etc.--another army was got together. Don Juan, by the intrigues
of the Austrian faction, was recalled and sent into semi-disgrace to
Consuegra; the Count of Caracena, distinguished in the war with the
Turks on the frontier of Hungary, being entrusted with the task of
reconquering Portugal.
Philip, indeed, at this time, as his health and strength decayed, was
surrounded by intrigue, intended, as it did, to drag unhappy Spain once
more into the fatal alliance with the Emperor, in {505} which Spain was
made the catspaw of Austrian ambition, and the milch-cow of Austrian
greed. It was no longer to suppress freedom of conscience in the
German States. That had been conceded long ago; and against that alone
had it been Spain's traditional policy to fight. The German Queen and
her confessor Nithard, with Pöetting, the Austrian ambassador, were all
intent now upon obtaining Spanish aid to the wars with the Turk on the
Hungarian frontiers.[53] Philip still treated it as a question of
conscience, and his letters to the nun breathed continual sorrow at
having to deplete his own poverty-stricken subjects to help the
Emperor. But it never seems to occur to him that he was really under
no obligation whatever to do so, and that Spain would not have been
seriously affected even if the Turk had been victorious in Hungary.
[Sidenote: The nun's last letter]
His personal health was now very bad, gallstones and other painful
maladies keeping him in almost constant agony. To a letter from the
nun, imploring him to care for his health, in March 1665, he answered
that he would do so; "but I can assure you that I only want what may be
best for God's service, and neither health, nor anything else, but that
the divine will should be executed upon me. This is what I wish you to
supplicate His Divine Majesty to grant me, and my salvation, which is
my main concern." A few weeks after this was written, in March 1665,
the nun sent to her royal friend another letter full of goodly counsel
{506} and encouragement; and then the pen fell from her hands for ever,
and Philip was left utterly alone. His wife, working hard for her
future influence, and in favour of the Austrian policy, had no sympathy
to spare for the sufferings of the declining old uncle-husband, to whom
political ambitions had given her as his wife. The only son who lived
to succeed him was a scrofulous degenerate, who presented, even in his
infancy, an exaggeration of his inherited type, which made him a
monstrosity, a poor creature who never emerged from puerility, and
finally died of senile decay at forty.
There was literally no ray of light on earth for Philip, now that Sor
Maria was dead. Around him, as he knew and saw, plans and intrigues
were anticipating the time when he should be no more. There were those
in the Court, looking mostly to Don Juan, who dreaded to see Spain
dragged once more at the tail of the Empire; for Louis XIV. was already
threatening, and most Spaniards hankered for the closer alliance,
meaning peace with France, that seemed so firm on the Isle of Pheasants
only five years before; whilst Mariana and the Austrians had gained to
their side a large party of nobles, pledged for their own greedy ends
to support the Queen when she should succeed to the Regency and hold in
her hands the resources of Spain.
[Sidenote: The last blow]
On the 20th June 1665 the terrible news had to be broken to the King,
that his forlorn hope had been defeated. Count Caracena, from whom so
much had been hoped, had been utterly crushed by the Portuguese and
their English auxiliaries. Eight hours of carnage had reduced the
Spanish {507} army from 15,000 men to 7000, and all the guns had been
lost. Philip could, in very truth, do no more. To raise this army
every means, legal and illegal, had been resorted to; private property
had been violated, pledges had been broken, injustice had been
perpetrated, and suffering had been inflicted upon poor people already
sorely oppressed. To this had the great dream come at last: that the
King who was held to be the proudest and wealthiest in Christendom was
unable to hold even his own territory. For the first time Philip broke
down in the sight of men; for Sor Maria was dead, and to none could he
turn now for comfort. Heart-broken, he cast himself upon the ground in
a paroxysm of grief, and sobbed out the formula that was his only
refuge, "Oh God! Thy will be done," almost the same words as those
which his grandfather uttered when he received the news of the
catastrophe that had overtaken his great Armada. But Philip IV.'s case
was worse, by far, than that of Philip II. Behind the latter there was
still a nation full of faith in its divine selection to dominate the
world for the glory of God and His chosen King: behind Philip IV.,
himself aged and worn with sickness of body and disillusion of spirit,
there was a people who had lost all confidence in themselves and their
mission, ready to scoff and spit upon the idols that had failed them; a
people whom sloth, vanity, and epicureanism had robbed for a time of
their nobleness, and who yet had to pass through the consummation of
their woe before, cleansed in the fires of suffering, they should arise
again.
Philip knew it; and, looking back over his long {508} reign, he must
have cursed the fate that condemned him from his birth to the
performance of an almost impossible task with utterly inadequate means.
He had been dedicated at his baptism to the Dominican ideal of a
Christian church purged of dissent at any cost; and yet, from the time
when the Protestant ambassadors of England were the honoured guests at
his christening, until now in his despairing age Fanshawe was reminding
him daily of his impotence both on land and sea, he had been obliged to
woo heretics, and to fight a great Catholic Power which was bent upon
the final humiliation of his house. Thus, with bitter irony, some
mightier power, with ends incomprehensible to men, mocked at the great
designs of those who thought that they and theirs were but junior
partners with providence, the chosen agents of the Almighty; and
Philip, in whose days the scales had fallen from the nation's eyes,
ascribed the agonised awakening, and the ruin it disclosed, to the
vengeance of an offended deity for his own puny sins.
[Sidenote: Philip bewitched]
Philip was tired of the struggle, weary of the sordid intrigues around
him, and he fell into gloomy despondency that banished from him all
interest in life. His bodily sufferings were intense, for the malady
that afflicted him was a cruel one. Again the rumour ran that the King
was bewitched, and that the late Inquisitor-General had been arranging
means to remove the spell when he died. The great ecclesiastics in
attendance were convinced that Satan was at the bottom of the King's
troubles; and asked Philip's permission to proceed in their
incantations to defeat the evil one who was thus persecuting him.
There were those at Court who {509} sneered at the absurdity of
attempting to cure a physical malady by such means;[54] but the
Inquisition insisted, and took over the management of the case. The
acting Inquisitor-General, Gonzalez, accompanied by Philip's confessor,
Juan Martinez, went to the patient and asked him for a little bag of
relics which he always wore around his neck, for they feared some evil
charm might be amongst them. Then to the Dominican monastery of the
Atocha they solemnly carried "an old book of sorcery, some prints of
his Majesty transfixed with pins," and other rubbish, all of which they
solemnly burnt with much sacred mummery.
This did the King no good, and then the doctors tried their hand with a
sweet conserve of mallow leaves, not, one would think, a sovereign
remedy for gall-stones. On Monday, 14th September, the physicians
confessed themselves hopeless. The hemorrhage was very great, and the
patient utterly exhausted with frequent paroxysms of fever, in one of
which he was thought to be dead, and the news spread through the
capital that he was so. When he was restored to consciousness, he
summoned the new Secretary of State, Loyola, and entrusted him with
official papers and his will for Queen Mariana, and then demanded the
last sacrament. When the friars brought the viaticum and told the
dying man that all hope was gone, he was resigned; though the Holy
Virgin of the Atocha was taken in procession past his windows, and the
body of {510} St. Diego, with scores of other grisly remains, were kept
in the sick-room itself, in the hope that good would come of them.
Mariana and her two children came to say good-bye to the dying man on
Monday afternoon, and, with tears in his eyes, Philip sighed to the
five-year-old weakling who was to succeed him: "God make you happier
than He has made me."[55] He took an affecting leave, too, of the Duke
of Medina de las Torres, and the other nobles who were attached to him;
pardoned the Marquis of Heliche for the attempt to blow up the Retiro,
and granted many titles and knighthoods to his gentlemen-in-waiting.
Count Castrillo, always self-seeking, had the bad taste to pester the
King, both personally and through the friars, that he should be made
Grandee, but Philip angrily referred him to the Queen.
For three days the King lingered on in suffering, confessing again and
again and receiving absolution; never for long abandoning his hold upon
the rough crucifix that had comforted the last moments of his saintly
predecessors on the throne. The jealous friars and confessors about
him quarrelled so violently in the death chamber on one occasion, about
administering the last sacrament again, that the Marquis of Aytona
turned the King's confessor out of the room and forbade his return. On
Wednesday, Castrillo came in full of the great news that Don Juan had
presented himself at the palace, and Philip, disturbed and unhappy at
the trouble that this portended, sternly sent orders for the Prince to
return instantly; for this, he said, was only {511} the time for him to
die, not to enter into mundane disputes.
[Sidenote: Death of Philip IV.]
All that night the King was delirious, until he suddenly recovered
consciousness just before dawn on Thursday, 17th September 1665, and
then quietly passed away. He had been beloved by those around him, and
had been prodigal all his life of favour to the men who served him; but
Mariana and her son were the source of bounty now, and human nature
showed its baseness at such a crisis, as it is wont to do in palaces;
for, as my eye-witness authority avers,[56] "Of all his Majesty's
household, the Marquis of Aytona and two other servants alone wept for
the death of their King and master; and in all the rest of the capital
there was not one person who shed a tear." The Marquis of Malpica,
captain of the Guard, came from the death chamber first to the anteroom
filled with guards on duty, and announced the King's passing by
shouting: "Now, comrades, your duty is to go upstairs[57] and guard his
Majesty King Charles." Courtiers were too busy thence-forward looking
towards the future to care much for the unhappy Planet King who had
laid down his heavy burden. The reading of the will which made Mariana
Regent, the constant meetings, and the coming and going of the
ministers, kept the palace astir from morning till night; but a few
faithful souls dressed the poor remains of the King in a musk-coloured
velvet suit, embroidered with silver, placed a silver sword by his
side, a {512} diamond cross in his hands folded upon his breast, which
was embroidered with the great red dagger of Santiago, and covered the
head with a beaver hat. And so, garbed and enclosed in gorgeous silver
and red velvet coffins, he was placed high upon a dais under a canopy
illumined by great wax torches, surrounded with the insignia of
imperial majesty, and guarded by the faithful halberdiers of Espinosa;
whilst friars chanted and prayed around the bier hour after hour. The
hall in which the body of Philip lay thus in deathly state was that
which had seen so many gay hours of his hopeful youth; for it was the
room devoted to the stage-plays that he had loved not wisely but too
well.
Lady Fanshawe, like the rest of the great people in Madrid, went to see
the sight, and thus records her impressions--
"The body of Philip IV. lay exposed from the 18th September, Friday
morning, till the night of Saturday the 19th, in a great room in his
palace, in which they used to act plays. The room was hung with
fourteen pieces of the King's best hangings, and over them rich
pictures round about, all of one size placed close together. At the
upper end of the room was raised a throne of three steps, upon which
there was placed a bedstead raised at the head. The throne was covered
with a rich Persian carpet, and the bottom of the bedstead with a
counterpoint of cloth of gold. The bedstead was of silver, the valance
and headcloth of gold wrought in flowers with crimson silk. Over the
bedstead was {513} placed a cloth of state of the same as the valance
and headcloth of the bedstead, upon which stood a silver gilt coffin
raised a foot or more at the head than at the feet, and in the coffin
lay Philip IV. with his head on a pillow, upon it a white beaver hat,
his hair combed, his beard trimmed, his face and hands painted. He was
clothed in a musk-coloured silk suit embroidered with gold, a golilla
about his neck, cuffs on his hands, which were clasped on his breast,
holding a globe and a cross therein. His cloak was of the same, with
his sword on his side; stockings, shoe-strings, and garters of the
same, and a pair of white shoes upon his feet."
[Sidenote: The burial of Philip]
Seven altars and scores of lighted tapers were erected in the chamber,
and offices for the dead King's soul went ceaselessly on, as the
courtiers came and went before the painted clay that had been once so
potent; but when, late on Saturday, the time came to carry the body
through the night across the plains to the snow-tipped Guadarramas
glimmering afar off, where in the stately jasper chamber he had wrought
for his royal house Philip IV. was to lie amongst the greater dead, few
of the high nobles and officers cared to absent themselves from Madrid
in these early days; and one after the other they refused to do the
last sad offices to him who had so often commanded them with a glance.
At last the Duke of Medina de las Torres peremptorily ordered a kinsman
of his own to take charge of the body to the Escorial. Even the
bearing of the body to the mule litter that awaited it gave rise to a
hot dispute, in which threats of {514} violence between two sets of
officials were flung across the coffin.[58]
With fourscore friars and the great officers of the palace who were
obliged to accompany the corpse, the litter, surrounded by torches,
travelled throughout the night, and on Sunday, 20th September 1655, the
prior of the Escorial relieved the courtiers of the burden of which
they were so glad to be free; whereafter they all scurried back, as
fast as horses could carry them, to make the preparations and ensure
their own important participation in the glorious series of
bull-fights, cane-tourneys, masques, and sumptuous parades which within
a fortnight were to greet the accession of his Catholic Majesty King
Charles II.
[Sidenote: The end]
There were still thirty-five years more of national humiliation and
grief for Spain before the great convulsion that awoke her to a new
life; but these years were but a prolongation of the agony preceding
the dissolution that had been made inevitable during the reign of
Philip IV. The Court over which he was the presiding spirit had
exhibited in the forty-five years he ruled it the strange phenomenon of
corruscating intellectual activity, accompanied by unexampled moral and
social corruption. Literature and art had blazed up with sudden
refulgence before they too sank into twilight; and when Philip passed
in, the generation of geniuses that illumined his Court were dead or
hastening to the grave, whilst all else was sinking deeper and deeper
into darkness.
It needed the formation of new ideals, the evolution of a new
patriotism, to make Spain {515} worthy of her history again; and the
outworn, incestuous blood of the Philips was powerless to lead the
nation back to health and sanity after its splendid epoch of heroics.
Philip did his best, but he himself was but a product of his time and
country: a kindly gentleman of noble aspirations and ignoble practice,
weak of will and tender of conscience, a poet and a dilettante, doomed
to an overwhelming task for which he was unfit. In his long reign he
saw moral decadence that he could not arrest, national ruin that even
his frantic prayers were powerless to avert; and he lived through half
a lifetime of martyrdom, because he ascribed his failure to the
vengeance of a ruthless deity whom he had offended by his sins, and
believed that he, gentle-hearted as he was, had brought upon the people
that he loved the wide-spread woe he saw around him.
[1] _Avisos de Barrionuevo_ (Coleccion de Autores Castellanos), Madrid,
1892; _Voyage en Espagne_ (1655), Aersens Van Sommerdyk, Amsterdam,
1666; _Relation de l'État et Gouvernement d'Espagne_, Bonnecasse,
Cologne, 1667. Barrionuevo, who was brother of the Marquis of Cusano,
was a "character." He was a jovial priest, not ashamed to boast of his
love affairs, of his good looks, of his bravery: and he belonged to a
turbulent family who were always getting into affrays of some sort, He
himself records without any word of reprobation a murder committed in
the open streets of Madrid by his kinsman, Francisco Barrionuevo, upon
a man who had boasted of making love to his wife; and the chronicler
quite unconcernedly predicts that the murderer, who had fled to
sanctuary, will get off. Barrionuevo confesses that he is insatiably
curious, and gathers news from everyone, going every morning to the
palace to learn what was passing there. His brother, who was Spanish
ambassador in London, also kept him well posted as to what happened in
England. See Barrionuevo's biography by Señor Paz y Melia in the first
volume of the _Avisos_.
[2] Van Sommerdyk.
[3] _Ibid._ The population at this time was between 250,000 and
300,000.
[4] Aersens and Bonnecasse. The charge for entrance was 1½ sous, which
went to the actors; 2 sous were charged for admission to the seated
part, which went to the Town Council; and 7 sous was the cost of a seat
in the cheapest part, 1½ sous of which went to charity, and the rest
for the lessee.
[5] Bonnecasse says that at this time there were 30,000 women of evil
life in Madrid. Even now strangers in Madrid are surprised to see the
impunity with which well-dressed, respectable young men dare to make
audible remarks of an amorous or complimentary nature intended to reach
the ears of ladies unknown to them in the streets.
[6] A curious craze was universal amongst men in Madrid at this time,
and for some years previously, namely, that of wearing large round horn
framed spectacles such as are seen in the portrait of Quevedo. The
modern name for goggles in Spanish is "Quevedos." The habit of
snuff-taking was also a fashionable affectation of the time.
[7] Worth 2s. 8d. each.
[8] He also cites, however, very numerous cases of professedly poor
people having large secret hoards of money. The universal want of
confidence had undoubtedly led to the hoarding of coin--especially
silver--to a very great extent by all classes, and this will to some
extent explain the strange facility with which money was found on
emergency even in the midst of poverty.
[9] Barrionuevo mentions a malicious caricature which was current in
the palace (1655, satirising Philip's helpless despondency in the face
of universal corruption.) A group represents Haro, the chief minister,
saying: "I can do everything"; the Secretary of State, Contreras,
saying: "I want everything"; the King saying: "I see everything"; his
Confessor saying: "I absolve everything"; and the devil saying: "I
shall fly away with the lot." Aersens, as an instance of the
ineptitude and corruption everywhere at the same period, mentions that
he saw on the beach at St. Sebastian a great warship in course of
construction, but which had not been touched for a long time; "but upon
which more millions had already been spent than would have built a
dozen such; but those who have spent it have alone profited by it."
[10] The tradition is that Philip himself painted the cross of Santiago
on the representation of Velazquez as a token of his delight at the
masterpiece. This, however, is hardly likely to be the case, as the
rank was not granted to the painter until two years later. It was no
doubt eventually added by Philip's orders, but Velazquez was not a
Knight of Santiago when the painting was executed.
[11] Barrionuevo.
[12] _Curias de Sor Maria_. Philip evidently recollected the
bitterness of his losing Baltasar Carlos in the flower of his youth.
[13] In a long doggerel ballad on the occasion, quoted by Barrionuevo,
many lines are devoted to the King's delight. These are specimens--
Salio el Rey á verlo todo,
y tambien á que le viesen;
porque todos conociesen
en el regocijo el modo
de salir....
En toda mi vida vi
hacer locuras mayores
a plebeyos y señores;
y sin reparar, entrando
al rey le iban hablando
desde el Grande hasta el rapaz.
Fué el Rey el dia noveno
a dar las gracias á Atocha
mas tierno que una melcocha,
y, por Dios, que iba muy bueno
de diamantes todo lleno,
a ese cielo parecia.
The King came out to see the show,
And also that he might be seen;
For by his gay and happy mien
Thus all the world his joy might know.
Sure never in my life before
Did such mad pranking meet my eye,
By rich and poor and low and high.
For no one cared, but in did walk,
And to the King himself did talk,
From great grandee to urchin poor.
And when nine days had taken flight,
Atocha's saint with thanks to greet,
Our King did ride, as honey sweet,
By God! he was a gallant sight,
From top to toe with diamonds fine,
Like starlit heaven did he shine.
[14] It will be recollected that this was the same costume as that
which Olivares wore at the baptism of Baltasar Carlos, and which then
puzzled people. The dress, whatever it was, seems only to have been
worn at christenings.
[15] What was called "marchpane" at royal baptisms was not really
marchpane, which is of course a sweetmeat compounded of almond paste
and honey, but a piece of crumb of bread upon which the bishop wiped
his fingers of the holy oil after anointing the royal infant during the
ceremony. The crumb of bread was often enclosed in an envelope of
marchpane and was carried in the procession wrapped in a beautifully
embroidered cloth upon a gold salver.
[16] Barrionuevo.
[17] _Cartas de Sor Maria_.
[18] Braganza himself, John IV., had died in 1656, leaving his son,
Alfonso VI., a minor.
[19] Lionne's own account of his negotiations in _Recueil des
Instructions données aux Ambassadeurs Français_. Ed. Morel Fatio,
Paris, 1894.
[20] On Good Friday, 1657, for instance, the procession, as usual,
passed before the palace of Madrid, and as the carved group
representing the Flight into Egypt passed the royal balconies a large
flight of white doves was let loose. One of the doves, Barrionuevo
says, flew direct to the window where the Infanta was standing, and
settled upon her head, whilst another alighted upon the King's hat.
Both birds were caught and liberated by the King's command, and all
Madrid was soon talking of the good omen the event presented.
[21] On the day of St. Blas, writes Barrionuevo, the King and Queen go
to the Retiro, and on the 8th February (1658) there will be the great
comedy there which will cost 50,000 ducats, with unheard of machines.
There will be 132 performers, 42 of them musical women brought from all
parts of Spain.... One of them, the _Bezona_, is a very fine lady from
Seville, and another one, the _Grifona_, has escaped from her prison,
so that the feast will be brilliant, and will last from Shrove Sunday
to Ash Wednesday.
[22] _Cartas de Sor Maria._
[23] Barrionuevo.
[24] Barrionuevo.
[25] There are three French MS. narratives of it in the Bibliotheque
Nationale, written by various hands, as well as a _Journal du Voyage
d'Espagne_, by Bertaut, in print, Paris, 1669, and _La Veritable
Rélation du Voyage_, etc., Toulouse, 1659. Several Spanish narratives
of the embassy also exist in print and MS. in the Biblioteca Nacional.
[26] _Journal du Voyage d'Espagne_, par l'Abbe Bertaut, Paris, 1669.
[27] So jealous were the nations of one another still, that Mazarin
strictly forbade any of his French followers from crossing the Spanish
line during the conference: "Dans la crainte qu'il avail que les
Français, accoutumés à mépriser les étrangers et à se moquer de tous
ceux qui ne sont pas vétus à leur mode, ne fissent quelques déplaisirs
aux espagnols, dont le procédé est plus serieux et plus modeste."
"L'isle de la Conference et le Mariage du Roi," 1660.
[28] _Avisos anonimos_. Appendix to Barrionuevo.
[29] A full account of the progress from day to day, written by an
eyewitness, is _Viage del Rey Nuestro Señor à la Frontera de Francia_.
Madrid, 1667.
[30] So few were they at this time, that it was projected to repopulate
the rural districts by large immigration of Irish and Dalmatian
families (Barrionuevo).
[31] Palamino, _Life of Velazquez_.
[32] An eye-witness, from whose unpublished MS. description of these
ceremonies I have condensed some passages, says they were "de los
mayores y de mayor lucimiento que ha visto Europa en muchos siglos."
MS. Biblioteca Nacional, P. v. c. 27.
[33] In one of the narratives of the ceremonies from day to day,
written by Roque de la Luna, one of Philip's household (MS. Biblioteca
Nacional, P. v. c. 31, transcribed by me), he says "Don Francisco took
an hour and a half to read it, and as we were all standing it seemed a
very long time to us."
[34] "The noise was so great that it seemed as if the world was
crumbling," says the narrator from whose manuscript I am quoting.
[35] Narrative of Roque de Luna, MS., Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid. P.
v. c. 31.
[36] Narrative of Roque de Luna, MS., Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, P.
v. c. 31.
[37] MS. narrative of an anonymous eye-witness. Biblioteca National,
Madrid, P. v. c. 27.
[38] Contemporary descriptions of these ceremonies in French are
numerous. One, published in Paris in June 1660, is specially
interesting. It is called "Le mariage du Roy, célébré à St. Jean de
Luz." The occasion remains one of the great glories of St. Jean de
Luz, where the house in which Maria Teresa lodged still stands, and is
called "La maison de l'Infante." A series of interesting tapestry
pictures of the ceremonies may be seen in the exhibition palace in the
Champs Elysées, Paris.
[39] Some of the Spanish narrators mention with surprise and chagrin
that neither the Spanish troops nor courtiers were so fine as the
French. The anonymous Newsletter writer (sequel to Barrionuevo) says:
"Many of our courtiers write (_i.e._ to Madrid) that the French
gentlemen and ladies who came to the ceremonies were so numerous, and
the adornments they wore were so rich and abundant, that we were
evidently inferior to them, although much care had been taken on our
side to excel, and no expense had been spared. So we cannot say this
time, as we have said before, that the French finery was nothing but
frills, furbelows, and feathers."
[40] It was against the etiquette of the Court for a left-handed son of
the sovereign to stay in Madrid, or even to visit it without special
permission. The rumour, though untrue, that Don Juan was to be allowed
to come to Madrid and welcome Philip at this time caused much
heart-burning.
[41] The Newsletter writer (_Avisos anonimos_) says that when Don Juan
was told of Haro's death, he replied: "My father has lost a great
minister; Let us go hunting," which he did immediately, to show his
satisfaction.
[42] _Avisos_. Sequel to Barrionuevo.
[43] _Cartas de Sor Maria_, 25th November 1661.
[44] It was necessary for Philip to seize all the securities lodged in
the hands of the contractors and money-lenders for the raising and
provision of this army, the excuse being that the contractors were
swindling him. It appears that they bought barley in Estremadura at 8
reals the fanega (1½ bushels), and sold it to the army for 56 reals.
The contractors (Genoese and Portuguese) offered 3½ million ducats for
the securities back again, but it was refused. Another seizure of
securities left with loan-mongers and contractors was made in the
following year, which completed the ruin of several of them. _Avisos_.
1660-1664.
[45] Don Juan was kept in Madrid for many months, much to his own
disgust, as he saw that it was in consequence of the intrigues of Queen
Mariana to separate him from the army altogether. One of her plans was
to induce the King to order Don Juan to conduct to Germany the young
Infanta Margaret, who had just been betrothed to her uncle, the
Emperor. Don Juan stood out firmly against this. He hated the
Austrian connection, and Mariana and her German advisers were his
enemies. Affairs came to a head in October 1663, when Don Juan forced
the pace by boldly urging his father to make him an Infante of Spain
and first minister. This frightened Mariana and her alter ego, Father
Nithard, her Jesuit confessor; and it had the effect desired by Don
Juan, of obtaining his despatch from Madrid to the army at Badajoz.
During his stay in the capital he had offended nearly all the nobles by
his haughty arrogance. _Avisos_.
[46] Instructions to Sir Richard Fanshawe. _Original Letters of Sir
Richard Fanshawe_, London, 1702.
[47] Fanshawe's _Original Letters_. A most naive and amusing account
of his embassy in Spain, where he died, is in Lady Fanshawe's Memoirs.
of which a new and fully annotated edition has recently been published.
[48] The controversy on this point is fully set forth in Fanshawe's own
letter to Lord Holles. The French ambassador's exceptional courtesy to
the Englishman somewhat disconcerted the Spaniards, who thought there
was some political significance behind it.
[49] Lady Fanshawe's _Memoirs_.
[50] The fish she calls dolphins were probably tunny.
[51] Lady Fanshawe's _Memoirs_.
[52] Whilst the penury of the country led Philip to adopt such measures
as this, the influence of Mariana and her German entourage induced him
at this very time--November 1664--to send a contribution of 500,000
ducats to the Emperor's needs.
[53] An interesting volume founded upon Pöetting's correspondence, and
dealing with the connection between Spain and the Empire at this time,
has recently been published by his Excellency Don W. de Villa Urrutia,
Spanish ambassador in England. It is called _Relaciones entre Espana y
Austria_, Madrid, 1905.
[54] There is a very minute account of Philip's illness and death
written by one of his attendants, from which I take some of the
particulars. Biblioteca National, Madrid, P. v. c. 24. Manuscript, 15
pages transcribed by me.
[55] _Muerte del Rey Felipe IV._, a contemporary account by an
eyewitness. British Museum MSS., Add. 8703.
[56] MSS. Bib. Nac., Madrid, P. v. c. 24.
[57] Philip had died in the entresol-room in the palace, which he
always occupied in summer, as it was shady and cool.
[58] MSS. Biblioteca National, Madrid, p. v. c. 24.
{519}
INDEX
Abbot, Archbishop, 109.
Academies (literary contests), 200, 301.
Admiral of Castile (Duke of Medina de Rio Seco), 163, 167.
Aguila, Marquis del, 300.
Ahumada, Father, 373.
Alamos, Don Baltasar de, 237.
Albert, Cardinal, Archduke, 21, 286.
Aliaga, confessor of Philip III., 45.
Alumbrados, the blasphemous sect so called, 271.
Amegial, battle of, 494, 495.
Anna of Austria, Queen of France, 155, 334, 335, 377, 464, 465, 482.
Aragonese Cortes, 141, 159, 162-170, 228, 254-259, 287, 296, 397.
Archy Armstrong in Spain, 100, 120.
Arcos, Duke of, 342.
Arnet, murderer of Ascham, 433.
Arundel, Philip, Earl of, 196.
Ascham, Anthony, Cromwell's envoy to Spain, 429; his mission, 431;
his murder in Madrid, 431-437.
Astillano, Prince of, 460.
Aston, Sir Walter, 77, 81, 106, 124, 292, 293, 295, 311, 312,
313, 317, 322.
Atillano, "the poet," 301.
Auto-de-fé, an, 150, 259.
Avendaño, an actor, 231.
Aytona, Marquis of, 218, 229, 391, 510.
B
Balbeses, Marquis of (Spinola), 341.
Ballard, an English priest in Madrid, 102.
Baltasar, Carlos, Prince, 210, 225, 241, 244, 246, 250, 253, 257,
276, 282, 284, 285, 353, 367, 387, 397; his betrothal, 399.
Barbastro, Cortes at, 164.
Barcelona, 167 et seq., 255-259, 297, 337-342.
Bejar, Duke of, 253, 342, 461.
Borgia, Cardinal, 253, 343, 458.
Borja, Melchior, 371.
Braganza, Duke of, 286, 334; proclaimed King of Portugal, 345, 423.
Breitenfeld, battle of, 247.
Bristol, Earl of, Sir John Digby, 67, 68, 72, 73, 76, 77, 81, 97,
98, 100, 106, 123, 124.
Buckingham, Duke of, in Madrid, 67 et seq.; meets Philip, 81-85;
the state entry, 86-92, 95, 96, 105; quarrels with
Olivares, 106, 113-120; leaves Spain, 121-123, 125; his
assassination, 216.
Buckingham, Duke of, his letters to King James, 79, 83, 92, 93,
105, 107, 111, 114.
Buen Retiro, palace of, 201, 238, 273, 280, 281, 284, 300,
301, 311, 316-319, 330, 342, 388, 392, 455, 489.
Burgos, Archbishop of, 39.
Burke, Marquis of Mayo, 216.
C
Calderon, 147.
Calderon, Marquis de Siete Iglesias, 31, 44.
Caracena, Count, defeated in Portugal, 504.
Cardenas, Alonso de, 423, 424, 425-429.
Cardona, Duke of, 167, 257, 287, 342.
Carducho, V., 194.
Carignano, Princess of, her reception in Madrid, 311, 316-319, 329.
Carlos, Infante, 44, 62, 65, 66, 90, 99, 123, 138, 163, 167, 174-186,
241, 246, 247, 255, 256, 259; his death, 260.
Carlos, Prince, son of Philip IV., 492, 500, 511.
Carpio, Marquis of, 65, 66, 99, 167, 229, 352, 366, 371, 394.
Carrion, the nun of, 122; her impostures, 308.
Castel Rodrigo, Marquis of, 163, 319.
Castrillo, Count of, 364, 488, 510.
Catalan Cortes. _See_ Aragonese.
Catalonia, disaffection and war in, 336-342, 357, 365, 388, 391, 392.
Cea, Duke of, 91.
Chambers, Laurence, 432.
Charles, Prince of Wales, 37; the Spanish match, 51, 52;
arrives in Madrid, 67 et seq.; he sees the Infanta, 77;
meets Philip, 81-83; his state entry to Madrid, 87 et seq.;
in love with the Infanta, 93; attempts to convert him, 94, 95;
his pastimes in Madrid, 96; his visits to the Infanta, 97;
his indiscretion, 100; negotiations, 104-110; disillusioned,
119; departs from Spain, 121, 195, 196.
Charles I., King of England, 216, 217-225, 243, 266, 274,
282, 288, 290-295, 313, 315, 321, 322, 323; his execution, 424.
Charles I., his painter in Madrid, 282 n.
Charles II. of England, birth of, 224, 426, 487, 495.
Chevreuse, Duchess of, in Madrid, 317.
Cinq Mars, 364.
Coloma, Carlos, Spanish ambassador in England, 218.
Condé, Prince of, 378, 462, 463, 466.
Cottington, Sir Francis, 67, 74, 76, 81, 106, 107, 117, 217,
218, 219, 220, 221, 222-225, 268, 275, 282, 295, 426, 432.
Corral de la Cruz. _See_ Theatres.
Corral de la Pacheca. _See_ Theatres.
Crofts, Courier, 112.
Cromwell, his relations with Spain, 423-437.
D
Don Juan of Austria, son of Charles V., 59.
Don Juan Jose of Austria, son of Philip IV., 207, 285, 353,
387, 403, 405, 418, 452, 463, 464, 467, 474, 486, 487, 494,
495, 504, 506, 510.
Downs, the capture of the Spanish fleet in, 324.
Dunkirk captured, 463.
E
English courtiers, their behaviour at Philip's christening, 6.
English embassy at Philip's baptism, 1-10.
Eraso, Don Francisco, 237.
Escovedo, 59.
Execution of the Hijar conspirators, 407-411.
F
Fadrique de Toledo, 156, 279 n.
Fanshawe, Lady, in Madrid, 498 et seq.; her opinion of Spaniards,
501; her account of Philip's lying in state, 512.
Fanshawe, Sir Richard, 314; his mission to Spain, 495-497; his
state entry, 498; his failure, 504.
Fashions, change of, in Spain after the marriage of Maria
Teresa, 486.
Felton assassinates Buckingham, 216.
Feria, Duke of, 155.
Fernando, Infante, 44, 90, 174-186, 241, 246, 247, 255, 256,
259; goes to Flanders, 260, 281, 288, 293, 299, 303, 310,
315, 331; dies, 377.
Festivities in Madrid, 60-66, 86-92, 101, 118, 145, 150, 209,
210, 225, 231-235, 273, 301, 307, 310, 312, 316-319, 451,
456-46l, 469, 472.
Fischer, Ascham's secretary, 432-437.
Field sports in Spain, 211-213.
Flanders and Spain, 21, 156, 176, 246, 247.
Flores d'Avila, Marquis of, 64.
Fonseca, Dr., patron of Velazquez, 197-199.
Francisco Fernando of Austria, Philip's natural son, 236-238.
Frederick the Palatine, 70, 116, 216, 217-225, 266.
Frias, Duke of, Grand Constable of Castile, 5, 354, 461.
Fuenterrabia, 335, 480.
G
Garcia Fray, punished by the Inquisition, 272.
Golilla, the, 138, 144, 447, 486.
Gomez Davila's way with the Moriscos, 23.
Gondomar, Count, Spanish ambassador in England, 68, 73,
74, 76, 81, 102, 123, 125.
Gongora, his sonnet on the English embassy, 4.
Grammont, Marshal, his mission to Madrid, 471.
Granada, Archbishop of, Philip's tutor, remonstrates with
Olivares, 53.
Guevara, Anna de, 367.
Gustavus Adolphus, 245, 247, 249.
Guzman, Enrique Felipe, Olivares' son, 268, 352, 354.
Guzman, the house of. _See_ Olivares.
H
Halsey, Major, murderer of Ascham, 433 et seq.
Haro, Count of (a child), 457.
Haro, Don Luis de, 352, 369, 371, 379, 394, 401, 406, 411, 420,
448, 451, 457, 459, 464, 466-485; death of, 487-490.
Hay, Earl of Carlisle, 103, 216, 217.
Heliche, Marquis of, 163, 167, 229.
Heliche, Marquis of (2), 450, 451, 469, 489, 510.
Henrietta Maria, Queen, 295.
Henry IV. of France, 24, 29.
Herrera, Don Juan, 300, 328.
Hijar, Duke of, 327; his conspiracy, 407 et seq.
Hinojosa, Marquis of, Spanish ambassador in England, 115, 117, 501.
Hopton, Sir Arthur, 219, 242, 243, 244, 249, 250, 252, 260, 263,
268, 273, 275, 276, 277-279, 280, 282, 287, 288, 290, 291,
292-295, 312, 314, 321, 322, 423.
Howard, Lord Admiral, Earl of Nottingham, in Spain, 3.
Howel, his account of the visit of Charles Stuart to Madrid.
_See_ Charles, Prince of Wales.
Humanes, Count of, 237, 288, 292.
I
Idiaquez, Minister of Philip II., 25.
Infanta Isabel, 21, 156, 176, 246, 260.
Infantado, Duke of, 38, 39, 133, 139.
Irish intrigues in Madrid, 216, 312.
Isabel of Bourbon, Philip's first wife, 30, 31, 55-58, 60, 61, 65,
77, 91, 97, 120, 121, 144, 145, 147, 173, 183, 212, 220, 229,
230, 231-235, 259, 283-326, 353, 360, 361; leads the
enemies of Olivares, 367; illness and death of, 392-395.
Isasi Ydiaquez, Don Juan, 236.
Isle of Pheasants, conferences and meetings on, 467, 470, 473, 481.
J
Jamaica seized by England, 439.
James I. of England, 29, 36, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 84, 85, 95, 101,
105, 114, 115, 116, 119, 120, 124.
James I., his letters to "Baby" and "Steenie," 84, 101, 104,
108, 112, 116.
James, Duke of York, 463.
John Frederick of Saxony, 289.
L
Lede, Marquis of, goes to England, 438.
Leganes, Marquis of, 194, 229, 281, 364, 365.
Lerida, Cortes at, 163.
Lerma, Duke of, 1, 9, 11, 17, 19, 30, 31, 32, 33, 37, 38, 39, 43,
46, 68, 69.
Liars' Walk, 54, 76, 146, 147, 196, 299, 327, 371, 439.
Lindsay, Lord, 216.
Linhares, Count, 325, 326.
Lionne's mission to France, 465-467.
Lope de Vega, 59, 147, 196, 240, 241.
Los Velez, Marquis of, 335, 343.
Louis XIII., 30, 252, 360, 377.
Louis XIV, 377; his marriage with Maria Teresa, 466-485.
M
Madrid, 27, 54, 59-66; Prince Charles arrives at, 67; his
state entry, 87; social condition, 131-136, 146, 147, 188-194;
as an artistic centre, 194-196; corruption of, 209, 227,
265; scandals in, 268-271; artists in, 282, 296; turbulence
in, 299-310; prices in, 321; lawlessness, 328-331, 356, 385,
441-446, 456, 469.
Malpica, Marquis of, 38, 498, 499, 511.
Mantua, Duchess of (Margaret of Savoy), 287, 333, 346, 367, 386, 387.
Maqueda, Duke of, 91, 233, 490.
Margaret of Austria, Queen of Spain, 7, 14, 26, 27.
Margaret Maria, Infanta, 419, 453, 501.
Maria, Infanta, 36, 50, 51, 52, 65, 68, 77, 84, 85, 91, 97, 99, 100,
103, 118, 120, 121; betrothed to the Emperor's heir, 172, 209,
219, 240, 403.
Maria Teresa, Infanta, 353, 393, 403, 414, 415, 419, 453, 459;
her marriage with Louis XIV., 466-485.
Mariana of Austria, betrothed to Baltasar Carlos, 399;
betrothed to Philip, 403, 413-416; married, 417-419, 449,
465, 472, 475, 487, 489, 501, 511.
Marie de Medici, 29, 55, 254, 266, 288, 317.
Marston, English resident in Madrid, 432, 433.
Mary Stuart (Princess of Orange), 276, 399.
Masaniello's revolt, 405.
Matthew, David, 294.
Maurice of Nassau, 21.
Mawe, English chaplain, 84.
Mazarin, Cardinal, 404, 418, 438, 462, 465, 467, 470.
Medina Celi, Duke of, 288, 430.
Medina de las Torres, Duke of, 229, 460, 475, 488, 489, 497,
510, 513.
Medina Sidonia, Duke of, 253, 286, 333, 334, 357.
Melo, General, 378.
Mendoza, Antonio de, 231, 233.
Meninas, the, 455.
Millan, Don Francisco, 165.
Montalvo, Count, Corregidor of Madrid, 307.
Monterey, Count of, 194, 195, 229, 230, 231, 281.
Monzon, Cortes at, 165.
Moreto, 147.
Moriscos, the expulsion of, 23-27.
Moscoso, Antonio de, 254, 255, 258, 259.
Motte, Marshall de la, 357, 353.
Moura, Don Cristobal, 286.
Münster, Treaty of, 404, 405 n.
N
Navarre, 398.
Nicolalde, Spanish agent in London, 275, 276, 288, 290, 292, 293, 295.
Nithard, Father, Mariana's confessor, 495, 505.
Nocera, Duke of, 334.
Nördlingen, battle of, 260, 288, 289.
O
Olivares, the Count-Duke, 31, 32, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40, 43, 46, 49,
60, 65, 66, 69, 70, 72, 73, 85, 104-114, 121, 128; his policy,
141, 154, 155, 158, 159, 160-162; in Aragon, 163-170;
opposition to him, 173-177, 183-186; urges Philip to
work, 179; patron of Velazquez, 197; negotiations with
England, 216-225; his entertainment to the King, 230-235;
builds the Buen Retiro, 238-241; his negotiations with
Hopton, 242 et seq.; and the Catalan Cortes, 254-259;
fresh negotiations with England, 262; his unpopularity,
265; secret negotiation with Charles I., 266, 275, 276, 288,
289-295; opposes Philip's journey, 297; again
approaches England, 312, 313; negotiations dropped, 324, 325;
his policy in Portugal, etc., 332, 333; his decline, 352; goes
to Aragon, 362; his fall, 366-374; his death, 375.
Olivares, Countess of, 210, 220, 230, 273, 367-375, 386, 387.
Oñate, Count, 295, 313, 460.
Oquendo, Admiral, his quarrel with Spinola, 304.
Orange, Prince of, 287.
Orleans, Gaston, Duke of, 254, 266, 288, 315.
O'Sullivan, Beare, Count of Bearhaven, 216.
Osuña, Duke of, 45.
P
Pacheco, Don Juan, 329.
Padilla, Carlos de, execution of, 408.
Palatinate, the, 37, 70, 116, 120, 216, 217-225, 242, 251, 266,
274, 296, 313, 314, 423.
Peace of the Pyrenees, 465-474.
Pennington, Admiral, 324.
Philip II., 11, 12, 13, 14, 20, 21, 23, 40.
Philip III., 1, 6, 7, 11, 19, 22, 27, 28, 30, 31, 32; his death,
36-40, 51, 68, 69.
Philip IV., christening of, at Valladolid, 1-10; his childhood,
26-30; his marriage, 31; under the influence of
Olivares, 35; his accession, 42; his reforms, 46; his own
account of affairs, 50; early profligacy, 54; his character,
60; his attitude towards the English match, 51, 52, 74, 81;
his reception of Charles, 86-92, 97-99; his reforms, 135;
his mode of life, 143; his garb, 144; goes to Aragon,
162; quarrels with the Aragonese, 163-170; his pity for
Castile, 170, 171; and his brothers, 174-186; promises
to work, 180, 181; his serious illness, 183; scruples of
conscience, 187; his liking for Velazquez, 189-200; his
literary and dramatic tastes, 200-202; his amours, 206;
the Calderona, 207; his field sports, 211-213; receives
Cottington, 221, 224; at an entertainment, 230-235; goes
to Barcelona, 254-259; his domestic life in Madrid, 283;
negotiations with England, 290-295, 296; insists upon
going to Aragon, 297; at a grand entertainment, 318;
scandal of the Nun of St. Placido, 348; goes to Aragon,
359; his good resolves after dismissing Olivares, 377;
returns to Aragon, 379, 381, 389, 395, 398, 401; betrothed
to Mariana, 403; his marriage, 413; his mode of life,
420; his attitude towards the English Commonwealth, 423-440;
his garb, 447; his poverty, 449, 455; his despondency, 452, 470;
he visits the frontier for his daughter's marriage, 475; splendid
ceremonies, 478-485; said to be bewitched, 490; intrigues
around him, 505; his last illness, 509; his death, 511;
his burial, 513; his character, 515
Philip IV., his letters to Sor Maria, 381, 389, 395, 399, 400;
402, 406, 417, 457, 468, 491, 492, 505.
Philip Prosper, Infante, 456-462, 463, 465, 470, 486; dies, 491.
Poëtting, Count, Austrian ambassador, 505.
Polanco, Dr., 184.
Porter, Endymion, 70, 77, 81, 100.
Portugal, Dom Duarte de, 88.
Portugal, Queen of, 334, 464.
Portugal, revolt of, 268, 333, 344-346, 405, 423, 464, 487, 494, 495.
Pozo, Count, 329.
Priego, Duke of, 342.
Priego, Marquis of, 460.
Prodgers, Captain, murderer of Ascham, 433 et seq.
Punoñrostro, Count of, 461.
Q
Quevedo, 147, 200, 231, 233, 355.
Quiñones, Suero, his promise of pictures to Charles I., 296 n.
R
Rahosa, the Infanta's confessor, 95.
Rentin, Marquis of, 63.
Ribera, Archbishop of Valencia, 3.
Richelieu, his rivalry with Olivares, 154, 155, 214 et seq.,
226, 260, 261, 288, 289, 303, 315, 325, 334, 335, 364, 376.
Roche, Valentine, murderer of Ascham, 433.
Rocroy, battle of, 378.
Rojas, Francisco de, 197, 262, 312, 373.
Rubens, Peter Paul, 217, 218, 224.
S
St. Isidore, the Husbandman, 61, 335, 392.
St. Placido, the scandals of, 272, 347-350.
St. Teresa, 61.
Salazar, Count, 329.
Salazar, Father, invents stamped paper, 320.
Salinas, Count of, Howard lodges in his house, 5.
Salvatierra, Countess of, 459.
Sandoval, house of. _See_ Lerma.
Sandoval de Rojas, Cardinal, 26.
San Lucar, Duke of, 49. _See_ also Olivares.
Santa Coloma, Viceroy of Catalonia, 340; killed, 343.
Santa Cruz, Marquis of, 361.
Saragossa, Philip at, 164, 363, 381, 391, 399.
Sastago, Count, 301.
Savoy, Duke of, 24, 154, 215, 315.
Scaglia, Abbé, an English agent in Madrid, 216, 217.
Schomberg, Marshal, 357, 487.
Seven Chimneys, the house with the, 67, 81, 498.
Silva, General, 397.
Silva, Pedro de, execution of, 408.
Simancas, English embassy lodged at, 4.
Soissons, Count of, 315.
Sor Maria of Agreda, 379-384, 395, 398-401, 407, 417, 462
et seq.; her death, 506.
Sotomayor, Philip's confessor, 42, 229, 349.
Spain, condition of (in 1600), 17 et seq.; (1621), 45 et seq.;
50, 51, 130-135, 242, 243, 263, 277, 279, 299, 309, (1637),
320, 327, 338, (1654-1660), 441-447.
Spanish match. _See_ Charles, Prince of Wales.
Sparkes, murderer of Ascham, 433.
Spinola, Marquis, 155.
Spinola, Nicholas, quarrels with Oquendo, 304, 328, 329.
Strada, Carlos, 318.
Suarez Diego, Portuguese minister, 333.
Sumptuary laws, 131, 137, 309, 319, 320, 445, 447, 476.
T
Tavara, Margaret, 79.
Taxation in Spain, 17, 18, 19, 20, 162, 170, 243, 252, 253,
263, 277, 279, 296, 309, 319, 325, 338, 352, 366, 406 n., 444,
448, 468, 492, 493, 504.
Taylor, English agent in Spain, 288.
Tejada, Auditor, 281.
Theatres (Corrales) of Madrid, 147, 201; description of a
performance, 202-206, 444.
Theatrical craze, 57, 60, 61, 147, 201-206, 233, 444.
Thirty Years' War and Spain, 245-249, 260, 267, 289, 300-303, 315.
Tilly, Imperial general, 156, 249.
Tirlemont, battle of, 293.
Toledo, Pedro de, Marquis of Villafranca, 64, 65.
Torrecusa, Marquis, 365.
Turenne, Marshal, 462.
Tyrone, Earl of, 223, 312, 344.
U
Uceda, Duke of, 30, 32, 33, 37, 40; his fall, 43, 45.
V
Valette, Duke de la, 335, 336, 344.
Valladolid, Philip's christening at, 1-10, 19.
Vallejo, an actor, 231.
Vasconcellos, Miguel, Portuguese minister, 333, 346.
Velazquez, Diego, 197-200, 212, 282, 284, 350, 373, 385,
454-456, 477, 481.
Verdugo Fernando, 63, 65.
Verney, Sir Edmund, 102.
Villa Mediana, Count of, murder of, 56-59, 196.
Villamor, Count, 88.
Villanueva, Geronimo de, State Secretary, 238, 319 n., 348-351.
W
War with France, 154-158, 214 et seq., 226, 274, 303, 315, 325,
334, 340-343, 357 et seq., 378, 391, 397, 422, 448, 452,
465-467.
Washington, page to Charles in Madrid, 102.
Williams, Captain, murderer of Ascham, 433.
Wimbledon, Lord (Sir E. Cecil), his attack on Cadiz, 126, 154, 157.
Windebank, Secretary, 275, 276, 278, 288, 291, 323.
Windebank, Kit, his escapade in Madrid, 323.
Wren, English chaplain, 84.
Wright, Sir Benjamin, 501.
Z
Zapata, Cardinal, Inquisitor, 152, 229, 268.
Zapata, Lieutenant of the Guard, 301, 329.
Zuñiga, Baltasar de, 38, 43, 49, 52.
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