Antonio Pérez relates in his famous "Memorial" that at first the
secretary Escovedo served the King very well in moderating the ambitious
ideas of D. John, but that "as time went on it was evident that he not
only did not fulfil the purpose for which he had been sent (to Italy),
but that his boldness, like that of Juan de Soto, increased, and that in
particular it was known that he began to have communication with Rome
for some benefit or grandeur for D. John, without informing his
Majesty."
There is truth in all this, mingled with much falsehood, as is the case
with all the contents of this venomous book. Escovedo never thought that
D. John was acting through vulgar ambition; although vulgarity is found
in all spheres, it was distasteful to his heroic nature; but he really
thought, as Antonio Pérez assured him, that D. John was blinded by his
ambitious ideas, and was craving the protection of Rome to carry into
effect visionary plans, which, to say the least, would hamper his
brother's policy, and that, in short, he was a brave youth, flushed by
his victories, whom it would be necessary to lead by the hand along the
beaten path of common sense, that he should not engulf his own great
qualities in the abyss of daring and fantasy. This is what Escovedo
believed about D. John when he went for the first time to Italy in the
capacity of secretary: but, learning to appreciate the frank charm of
his ways and the simple cheerfulness of his loyal character, he
retracted this opinion, and, little by little, the more he knew of D.
John and his affairs, the more he became convinced that what Antonio
Pérez called his foolhardy notions were really vigorous flights of
genius; and that what he named fantastic plans were the well-considered
schemes of two Pontiffs like Pius V and Gregory XIII, who were those
that thought of and upheld the project of conquering England; and that,
quite contrary to what Pérez said, the solicitations at Rome, far from
being humiliating to the King of Spain, were honourable offers made,
times and again, to D. John by the Popes, who were enchanted by his
bravery and valour, and were convinced that _this John, sent by God_,
was called to be one of the firmest pillars of the Catholic Church.
Then the same thing occurred which had happened to Juan de Quiroga and
afterwards to Juan de Soto. Escovedo became as devoted to D. John as
they had been; he was converted into a sincere admirer, who loudly sang
D. John's praises and began to favour his plans with all the force of
his energetic and passionate nature, giving a strange instance, which
proves so much, of three men of recognised merit, of unimpeachable
honour and upright intention, all warned by Antonio Pérez against D.
John's ambitious plans, falling, one by one, under the spell of his
charm, and, against their own interests, devoting themselves to serving
and helping him. A great proof that the spell D. John used to throw over
these people to draw them to him was, without any doubt, his own
worthiness.
This change in Escovedo was effected very quickly, and Madrid knew of it
at once, as by June, 1575, it was already an anxiety there, as is shown
by the following note written, according to that prudent Monarch's
habit, by Philip on the margin of a letter of Mateo Vázguez's. "The
arrival of Escovedo is certain, as you will see by this letter, and
although it appears he is not coming to ask for money, I am, to the last
degree, broken-hearted and tired out by it: although it will be well to
send him on at once, I cannot help thinking that he is encouraging him
and that that is why he is sent and no one else."
Escovedo did not come to Spain in search of money, although this was
very scarce, as it always was in all D. Philip's undertakings: D. John
sent him to notify to the King a new complication which had arisen in
Genoa, due to the intervention of the Pope in these circumstances, and
to ask for instructions on so delicate a matter.
Having overcome the danger of the Turk in the summer of 1575, D. John
gave himself up with perseverance all the rest of that year and the next
to ending these quarrels which might undermine the influence of Spain in
Italy and even drag her into a war with France. He therefore watched the
trend of affairs, sometimes in Naples, sometimes in Genoa itself,
finding time and opportunity in both places to give himself up to gay
amusements, even to culpable excesses, to which his youth disposed him
and the relaxed morals of the day incited him.
It is to this period of his life that must be assigned his intrigues
with the unhappy Zenobia Saratosio, who ended by crying over her sin in
the convent of St. Mary of Egypt, and with Doña Ana de Toledo, the proud
and domineering woman, who, perhaps, would have been the ruin of D.
John, had he not by an effort of his strong will, sharpened by a sense
of duty, torn himself in time from her evil influence. Luckily these
flowery chains did not bind D. John's manly soul; he broke at every step
all that impeded his indomitable temper, or what was insisted on by the
disquieting voice of remorse.
One night D. John was supping in the palace of Doña Ana de Toledo with
several others of those who screened and upheld his evil ways. Suddenly
one of his captains of the guard entered hurriedly with the news that on
one of the galleys, taken at Lepanto, the "Renegada," the crew, formed
of one hundred captive Turks, had risen, killed four soldiers on guard
and a boatswain, and had fled with the galley. Crimson with rage, D.
John jumped up, leaving his cup of wine half drunk, and ordered the
captain to go before him to the mole to warn the galley "Real" that he
was at once setting out to pursue the fugitives. In vain Doña Ana begged
him not to go, but to send one of the 160 galleys anchored in the port.
D. John answered her that it would all be the work of a moment, and that
in less than three hours he would return to finish his half-drunk cup.
The wilful and tyrannical woman insisted with tears, wishing to bend him
to her caprice and menacing him with a cessation of her favours if he
refused her. But without saying more D. John dashed into the street,
preceded by two pages with torches, calling out to all the soldiers he
met on the way, "Quick! Soldiers! Quick! They have taken a galley from
us."
He only met a dozen foot soldiers and one sergeant, Rivera, and with
them went to the mole, jumped on the "Real," and left the port. The
night was dark and the sea rough, and the "Real" flew along, with her
lanterns unlighted, impelled by the rowers, who were encouraged by the
great rewards offered by D. John.
They overtook the "Renegada" off the entrance of Capri. Seeing the
"Real" suddenly appear and deeming it an ordinary galley, the crew
prepared to defend themselves; but when they recognised the ship, fear
paralysed the fugitives and they did not dare to do so, which explains
how fourteen men took a ship on which were a hundred by boarding her;
they killed the Turks, overcoming and binding those who survived and
took them back to Naples. A little before dawn D. John disembarked in
the port, and once more turned his steps to the palace of Doña Ana. He
found it all open and lighted up, as if he were expected; but not a
single living soul did he see in it; astonished, he reached the
dining-room, and there noticed, to his surprise, that the table was
cleared, and on it a small, black velvet cloth; at the corners were four
silver candlesticks, in which lighted tapers were burning, and in the
centre a small golden salver with the half-emptied cup, as D. John had
left it. D. John understood that the proud Doña Ana wished to show by
this means, very typical of the period, the funeral of her love, and so
he accepted it; he drained the cup of wine at a draught and placed it,
mouth downwards, on the table again. As he left the house a duenna,
placed there, no doubt, by her lady, called to him from one of the
grated windows; but D. John never turned his head nor darkened the doors
again.
At this time (March, 1576) the Knight Commander Luis de Requesens died
in Brussels, from a carbuncle on the back, leaving Flanders, by his
death, without a Governor and these States in more danger than ever, as
the Provinces had risen and only Luxemburg remained faithful to Spain.
"It is to be observed," says a famous historian, "that whenever a grave
danger threatened or a state was about to be lost, Philip II turned to
his brother D. John of Austria, and confided to his bravery and talent
the most arduous enterprises and the causes which seemed the most
hopeless, as to one whom he held capable of rectifying what the
imprudence, faults or ill-fortune of others seemed to make difficult or
almost impossible to remedy."
Thus it was now; in this difficulty Philip II named D. John Governor and
Captain-General of the States of Flanders, and until he could arrive to
take up the command, entrusted the government of them absolutely to the
Senate of Flanders. This last fatal advice was given to Philip by
Joachin Oppier, or Hoperus, as others call him, a Fleming who was
Secretary for the affairs of Flanders in Madrid.
D. John's new appointment was secretly opposed by Granvelle from Naples
and by Antonio Pérez in Madrid. The secretary was much perturbed lest
all his efforts to discredit D. John with the King had come to naught;
because, although there was no doubt that distrust had entered and still
existed in Philip's naturally suspicious mind, still the embers required
much fanning to kindle them into a blaze capable of consuming all the
great esteem and confidence evinced by this appointment. So vigorously
did Antonio Pérez fan them that if documents in his own writing did not
prove it, never would it be credited to-day that a man of his astuteness
and talent should have been so blinded by his evil passions as to dare
to write to Philip II that for D. John, thunderbolt of war, victor of
the Moors, terror of the Turk, pacifier of Genoa, and hero of Lepanto,
"a clerical habit would be best suited and orders, so that he should not
go too far or ever be able to transgress."