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History of the Reign of Philip the Second, King of Spain, Vols. 1 and 2

by William Hickling Prescott · English · Gutenberg #32600 · 1,982,255 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: History of the Reign of Philip the Second, King of Spain, Vols. 1 and 2

Author: William Hickling Prescott


        
Release date: May 30, 2010 [eBook #32600]

Language: English

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[Illustration: PHILIP THE SECOND.

_From the Original by Titian in the Royal Museum at Madrid._

London, George Routledge & Sons, Broadway, Ludgate Hill.]




HISTORY
OF
THE REIGN
OF
PHILIP THE SECOND,
KING OF SPAIN.

BY
WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT,
CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE OF FRANCE, OF THE ROYAL
ACADEMY OF HISTORY AT MADRID, ETC.

VOLUMES FIRST AND SECOND.

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.

LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE
NEW YORK. 416, BROOME STREET.




PREFACE.


The reign of Philip the Second has occupied the pen of the historian
more frequently--if we except that of Charles the Fifth--than any other
portion of the Spanish annals. It has become familiar to the English
reader through the pages of Watson, who has deservedly found favor with
the public for the perspicuity of his style,--a virtue, however, not
uncommon in his day,--for the sobriety of his judgments, and for the
skill he has shown in arranging his complicated story, so as to maintain
the reader's interest unbroken to the end. But the public, in Watson's
day, were not very fastidious in regard to the sources of the
information on which a narrative was founded. Nor was it easy to obtain
access to those unpublished documents which constitute the best sources
of information. Neither can it be denied that Watson himself was not so
solicitous as he should have been to profit by opportunities which a
little pains might have put within his reach,--presenting, in this
respect, a contrast to his more celebrated predecessor, Robertson; that
he contented himself too easily with such cheap and commonplace
materials as lay directly in his path; and that, consequently, the
foundations of his history are much too slight for the superstructure.
For these reasons, the reign of Philip the Second must still be regarded
as open ground for English and American writers.

And at no time could the history of this reign have been undertaken with
the same advantages as at present, when the more enlightened policy of
the European governments has opened their national archives to the
inspection of the scholar; when he is allowed access, in particular, to
the Archives of Simancas, which have held the secrets of the Spanish
monarchy hermetically sealed for ages.

The history of Philip the Second is the history of Europe during the
latter half of the sixteenth century. It covers the period when the
doctrines of the Reformation were agitating the minds of men in so
fearful a manner as to shake the very foundations of the Romish
hierarchy in the fierce contest which divided Christendom. Philip, both
from his personal character, and from his position as sovereign of the
most potent monarchy in Europe, was placed at the head of the party
which strove to uphold the fortunes of the ancient Church; and thus his
policy led him perpetually to interfere in the internal affairs of the
other European states,--making it necessary to look for the materials
for his history quite as much without the Peninsula as within it. In
this respect the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella presents a strong
contrast to that of Philip the Second; and it was the consideration of
this, when I had completed my history of the former, and proposed at
some future day to enter upon that of the latter, that led me to set
about a collection of authentic materials from the public archives in
the great European capitals. It was a work of difficulty; and, although
I had made some progress in it, I did not feel assured of success until
I had the good fortune to obtain the coöperation of my friend, Don
Pascual de Gayangos, Professor of Arabic in the University of Madrid.
This eminent scholar was admirably qualified for the task which he so
kindly undertook; since, with a remarkable facility--such as long
practice only can give--in deciphering the mysterious handwriting of the
sixteenth century, he combined such a thorough acquaintance with the
history of his country as enabled him to detect, amidst the ocean of
manuscripts which he inspected, such portions as were essential to my
purpose.

With unwearied assiduity he devoted himself to the examination of many
of the principal collections, both in England and on the Continent.
Among these may be mentioned the British Museum and the State-Paper
Office, in London; the Library of the Dukes of Burgundy, in Brussels;
that of the University of Leyden; the Royal Library, at the Hague; the
Royal Library of Paris, and the Archives of the Kingdom, in the Hôtel
Soubise; the Library of the Academy of History, the National Library at
Madrid, and, more important than either, the ancient Archives of
Simancas, within whose hallowed precincts Señor Gayangos was one of the
first scholars permitted to enter.

Besides these public repositories, there are several private collections
to the owners of which I am largely indebted for the liberal manner in
which they have opened them for my benefit. I may mention, in
particular, the late Lady Holland, who kindly permitted copies to be
made by Señor Gayangos from the manuscripts preserved in Holland House;
Sir Thomas Phillips, Bart., who freely extended the same courtesy in
respect to the present work which he had shown to me on a former
occasion; and Patrick Fraser Tytler, Esq., the late excellent historian
of Scotland, who generously placed at my disposal sundry documents
copied by him in the public offices with his own hand, for the
illustration of the reign of Mary Tudor.

In Spain the collection made by Señor Gayangos was enriched by materials
drawn from the family archives of the marquis of Santa Cruz, whose
illustrious ancestor first had charge of the Spanish armada; from the
archives of Medina Sidonia, containing papers of the duke who succeeded
to the command of that ill-starred expedition; and from the archives of
the house of Alva,--a name associated with the most memorable acts of
the government of Philip.

The manuscripts, thus drawn from various quarters, were fortified by
such printed works as, having made their appearance in the time of
Philip the Second, could throw any light on his government. Where such
works were not to be purchased, Señor Gayangos caused copies to be made
of them, or of those portions which were important to my purpose. The
result of his kind, untiring labors has been to put me in possession of
such a collection of authentic materials for the illustration of the
reign of Philip as no one before had probably attempted to make. Nor
until now had the time come for making the attempt with success.

There still remained, however, some places to be examined where I might
expect to find documents that would be of use to me. Indeed, it is in
the nature of such a collection, covering so wide an extent of ground,
that it can never be complete. The historian may be satisfied, if he has
such authentic materials at his command, as, while they solve much that
has hitherto been enigmatical in the accounts of the time, will enable
him to present, in their true light, the character of Philip and the
policy of his government. I must acknowledge my obligations to more than
one person, who has given me important aid in prosecuting my further
researches.

One of the first of them is my friend, Mr. Edward Everett, who, in his
long and brilliant career as a statesman, has lost nothing of that love
of letters which formed his first claim to distinction. The year before
his appointment to the English mission he passed on the Continent,
where, with the kindness that belongs to his nature, he spent much time
in examining for me the great libraries, first in Paris, and afterwards
more effectually in Florence. From the _Archivio Mediceo_, in which he
was permitted by the grand duke to conduct his researches, he obtained
copies of sundry valuable documents, and among them the letters of the
Tuscan ministers, which have helped to guide me in some of the most
intricate parts of my narrative. A still larger amount of materials he
derived from the private library of Count Guicciardini, the descendant
of the illustrious historian of that name. I am happy to express my
lively sense of the courtesy shown by this nobleman; also my gratitude
for kind offices rendered me by Prince Corsini; and no less by the
Marquis Gino Capponi, whose name will be always held in honor for the
enlightened patronage which he has extended to learning, while
suffering, himself, under the severest privation that can befall the
scholar.

There was still an important deficiency in my collection,--that of the
_Relazioni Venete_, as the reports are called which were made by
ambassadors of Venice on their return from their foreign missions. The
value of these reports, for the information they give of the countries
visited by the envoys, is well known to historians. The deficiency was
amply supplied by the unwearied kindness of my friend, Mr. Fay, who now
so ably fills the post of minister from the United States to
Switzerland. When connected with the American legation at Berlin, he, in
the most obliging manner, assisted me in making arrangements for
obtaining the documents I desired, which, with other papers of
importance, were copied for me from the manuscripts in the Royal Library
of Berlin, and the Ducal Library of Gotha. I have also, in connection
with this, to express my obligations to the distinguished librarian of
the former institution, Mr. Pertz, for the good-will which he showed in
promoting my views.

Through Mr. Fay, I also obtained the authority of Prince Metternich to
inspect the Archives of the Empire in Vienna, which I inferred, from the
intimate relations subsisting between the courts of Madrid and Vienna in
that day, must contain much valuable matter relevant to my subject. The
result did not correspond to my expectations. I am happy, however, to
have the opportunity of publicly offering my acknowledgments to that
eminent scholar, Dr. Ferdinand Wolf, for the obliging manner in which he
conducted the investigation for me, as well in the archives above
mentioned, as, with better results, in the Imperial Library, with which
he is officially connected.

In concluding the list of those to whose good offices I have been
indebted, I must not omit the names of M. de Salvandy, minister of
public instruction in France at the time I was engaged in making my
collection; Mr. Rush, then the minister of the United States at the
French court; Mr. Rives, of Virginia, his successor in that office; and
last, not least, my friend, Count de Circourt, a scholar whose noble
contributions to the periodical literature of his country, on the
greatest variety of topics, have given him a prominent place among the
writers of our time.

I am happy, also, to tender my acknowledgments for the favors I have
received from Mr. Van de Weyer, minister from Belgium to the court of
St. James; from Mr. B. Homer Dixon, consul for the Netherlands at
Boston; and from my friend and kinsman, Mr. Thomas Hickling, consul for
the United States at St. Michael's, who kindly furnished me with sundry
manuscripts exhibiting the condition of the Azores at the period when
those islands passed, with Portugal, under the sceptre of Philip the
Second.

Having thus acquainted the reader with the sources whence I have derived
my materials, I must now say a few words in regard to the conduct of my
narrative. An obvious difficulty in the path of the historian of this
period arises from the nature of the subject, embracing, as it does,
such a variety of independent, not to say incongruous topics, that it is
no easy matter to preserve anything like unity of interest in the story.
Thus the Revolution of the Netherlands, although, strictly speaking,
only an episode to the main body of the narrative, from its importance,
well deserves to be treated in a separate and independent narrative by
itself.[1] Running along through the whole extent of Philip's reign, it
is continually distracting the attention of the historian, creating an
embarrassment something like that which arises from what is termed a
double plot in the drama. The best way of obviating this is to keep in
view the dominant principle which controlled all the movements of the
complicated machinery, so to speak, and impressed on them a unity of
action. This principle is to be found in the policy of Philip, the great
aim of which was to uphold the supremacy of the Church, and, as a
consequence, that of the crown. "Peace and public order," he writes on
one occasion, "are to be maintained in my dominions only by maintaining
the authority of the Holy See." It was this policy, almost as sure and
steady in its operation as the laws of Nature herself, that may be said
to have directed the march of events through the whole of his long
reign; and it is only by keeping this constantly in view that the
student will be enabled to obtain a clew to guide him through the
intricate passages in the history of Philip, and the best means of
solving what would otherwise remain enigmatical in his conduct.

In the composition of the work, I have, for the most part, conformed to
the plan which I had before adopted. Far from confining myself to a
record of political events, I have endeavored to present a picture of
the intellectual culture and the manners of the people. I have not even
refused such aid as could be obtained from the display of pageants, and
court ceremonies, which, although exhibiting little more than the
costume of the time, may serve to bring the outward form of a
picturesque age more vividly before the eye of the reader. In the
arrangement of the narrative, I have not confined myself altogether to
the chronological order of events, but have thrown them into masses,
according to the subjects to which they relate, so as to produce, as far
as possible, a distinct impression on the reader. And in this way I have
postponed more than one matter of importance to a later portion of the
work, which a strict regard to time would assign more properly to an
earlier division of the subject. Finally, I have been careful to fortify
the text with citations from the original authorities on which it
depends, especially where these are rare and difficult of access.

In the part relating to the Netherlands I have pursued a course somewhat
different from what I have done in other parts of the work. The scholars
of that country, in a truly patriotic spirit, have devoted themselves of
late years to exploring their own archives, as well as those of
Simancas, for the purpose of illustrating their national annals. The
results they have given to the world in a series of publications, which
are still in progress. The historian has reason to be deeply grateful to
those pioneers, whose labors have put him in possession of materials
which afford the most substantial basis for his narrative. For what
basis can compare with that afforded by the written correspondence of
the parties themselves? It is on this sure ground that I have mainly
relied in this part of my story; and I have adopted the practice of
incorporating extracts from the letters in the body of the text, which,
if it may sometimes give an air of prolixity to the narrative, will have
the advantage of bringing the reader into a sort of personal
acquaintance with the actors, as he listens to the words spoken by
themselves.

In the earlier part of this Preface, I have made the acknowledgments due
for assistance I have received in the collection of my materials; and I
must not now conclude without recording my obligations, of another kind,
to two of my personal friends,--Mr. Charles Folsom, the learned
librarian of the Boston Athenæum, who has repeated the good offices he
had before rendered me in revising my manuscript for the press; and Mr.
John Foster Kirk, whose familiarity with the history and languages of
Modern Europe has greatly aided me in the prosecution of my researches,
while his sagacious criticism has done me no less service in the
preparation of these volumes.

Notwithstanding the advantages I have enjoyed for the composition of
this work, and especially those derived from the possession of new and
original materials, I am fully sensible that I am far from having done
justice to a subject so vast in its extent and so complicated in its
relations. It is not necessary to urge in my defence any physical
embarrassments under which I labor; since that will hardly be an excuse
for not doing well what it was not necessary to do at all. But I may be
permitted to say, that what I have done has been the result of careful
preparation; that I have endeavored to write in a spirit of candor and
good faith; and that, whatever may be the deficiencies of my work, it
can hardly fail--considering the advantages I have enjoyed over my
predecessors--to present the reader with such new and authentic
statements of facts as may afford him a better point of view than that
which he has hitherto possessed for surveying the history of Philip the
Second.

BOSTON, _July, 1855_




CONTENTS.


Book I.

CHAPTER I.

ABDICATION OF CHARLES THE FIFTH.

PAGE

Introductory Remarks--Spain under Charles the Fifth--He prepares to
resign the Crown--His Abdication--His Return to Spain--His Journey to
Yuste                                                                  1

CHAPTER II.

EARLY DAYS OF PHILIP.

Birth of Philip the Second--His Education--Intrusted with the
Regency--Marries Mary of Portugal--Visit to Flanders--Public
Festivities--Ambitious Schemes--Returns to Spain                      11

CHAPTER III.

ENGLISH ALLIANCE.

Condition of England--Character of Mary--Philip's Proposals of
Marriage--Marriage Articles--Insurrection in England                  30

CHAPTER IV.

ENGLISH ALLIANCE.

Mary's Betrothal--Joanna Regent of Castile--Philip embarks for
England--His splendid Reception--Marriage of Philip and Mary--Royal
Entertainments--Philip's Influence--The Catholic Church
restored--Philip's Departure                                          43

CHAPTER V.

WAR WITH THE POPE.

Empire of Philip--Paul the Fourth--Court of France--League against
Spain--The Duke of Alva--Preparations for War--Victorious Campaign    59

CHAPTER VI.

WAR WITH THE POPE.

Guise enters Italy--Operations in the Abruzz--Siege of Civitella--Alva
drives out the French--Rome menaced by the Spaniards--Paul consents to
Peace--Paul's Subsequent Career                                       73

CHAPTER VII.

WAR WITH FRANCE.

England joins in the War--Philip's Preparations--Siege of St.
Quentin--French Army routed--Storming of St. Quentin--Successes of the
Spaniards                                                             85

CHAPTER VIII.

WAR WITH FRANCE.

Extraordinary Efforts of France--Calais surprised by Guise--The French
invade Flanders--Bloody Battle of Gravelines--Negotiations for
Peace--Mary's Death--Accession of Elizabeth--Treaty of
Cateau-Cambresis                                                     102

CHAPTER IX.

LATTER DAYS OF CHARLES THE FIFTH.

Charles at Yuste--His Mode of Life--Interest in Public
Affairs--Celebrates his Obsequies--Last Illness--Death and
Character                                                            120


Book II.

CHAPTER I.

VIEW OF THE NETHERLANDS.

Civil Institutions--Commercial Prosperity--Character of the
People--Protestant Doctrines--Persecution by Charles the Fifth       146

CHAPTER II.

SYSTEM ESTABLISHED BY PHILIP.

Unpopular Manners of Philip--He enforces the Edicts--Increase of the
Bishoprics--Margaret of Parma Regent--Meeting of the
States-General--Their spirited Conduct--Organization of the
Councils--Rise and Character of Granvelle--Philip's Departure        157

CHAPTER III.

PROTESTANTISM IN SPAIN.

Philip's Arrival in Spain--The Reformed Doctrines--Their
Suppression--Autos da Fé--Prosecution of Carranza--Extinction of
Heresy--Fanaticism of the Spaniards                                  170

CHAPTER IV.

PHILIP'S THIRD MARRIAGE.

Reception of Isabella--Marriage Festivities--The Queen's Mode of
Life--The Court removed to Madrid                                    183

CHAPTER V.

DISCONTENT IN THE NETHERLANDS.

The Reformation--Its Progress in the Netherlands--General
Discontent--William of Orange                                        192

CHAPTER VI.

OPPOSITION TO THE GOVERNMENT.

Grounds of Complaint--The Spanish Troops--The New Bishoprics--Influence
of Granvelle--Opposed by the Nobles--His Unpopularity                201

CHAPTER VII.

GRANVELLE COMPELLED TO WITHDRAW.

League against Granvelle--Margaret desires his Removal--Philip
deliberates--Granvelle dismissed--Leaves the Netherlands             213

CHAPTER VIII.

CHANGES DEMANDED BY THE LORDS.

Policy of Philip--Ascendancy of the Nobles--The Regent's
Embarrassments--Egmont sent to Spain                                 226

CHAPTER IX.

PHILIP'S INFLEXIBILITY.

Philip's Duplicity--His Procrastination--Despatches from Segovia--Effect
on the Country--The Compromise--Orange and Egmont                    238

CHAPTER X.

THE CONFEDERATES.

Design of the Confederates--They enter Brussels--The
Petition--The Gueux                                                  253

CHAPTER XI.

FREEDOM OF WORSHIP.

The Edicts suspended--The Sectaries--The Public Preachings--Attempt to
suppress them--Meeting at St. Trond--Philip's Concessions            260

CHAPTER XII.

THE ICONOCLASTS.

Cathedral of Antwerp sacked--Sacrilegious Outrages--Alarm at
Brussels--Churches granted to Reformers--Margaret repents her
Concessions--Feeling at Madrid--Sagacity of Orange--His Religious
Opinions                                                             273

CHAPTER XIII.

THE REGENT'S AUTHORITY REËSTABLISHED.

Reaction--Appeal to Arms--Tumult in Antwerp--Siege of Valenciennes--The
Government triumphant                                                290

CHAPTER XIV.

TRANQUILLITY RESTORED.

Oath imposed by Margaret--Refused by Orange--He leaves the
Netherlands--Submission of the Country--New Edict--Order restored    299


Book III.

CHAPTER I.

ALVA SENT TO THE NETHERLANDS.

Alva's Appointment--His remarkable March--He arrives at
Brussels--Margaret disgusted--Policy of the Duke--Arrest of Egmont and
Hoorne                                                               310

CHAPTER II.

CRUEL POLICY OF ALVA.

The Council of Blood--Its Organization--General Prosecutions--Civil War
in France--Departure of Margaret--Her administration reviewed        327

CHAPTER III.

REIGN OF TERROR.

Numerous Arrests--Trials and Executions--Confiscations--Orange assembles
an Army--Battle of Heyligerlee--Alva's Proceedings                   340

CHAPTER IV.

TRIALS OF EGMONT AND HOORNE

The Examination--Efforts in their Behalf--Specification of
Charges--Sentence of Death--The Processes reviewed                   355

CHAPTER V.

EXECUTION OF EGMONT AND HOORNE.

The Counts removed to Brussels--Informed of the Sentence--Procession to
the Scaffold--The Execution--Character of Egmont--Fate of his
Family--Sentiment of the People                                      364


CHAPTER VI.

SECRET EXECUTION OF MONTIGNY.

Bergen and Montigny--Their Situation in Spain--Death of Bergen--Arrest
of Montigny--Plot for his Escape--His Process--Removal to
Simancas--Closer Confinement--Midnight Execution                     378


Book IV.

CHAPTER I.

THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE.

Condition of Turkey--African Corsairs--Expedition against Tripoli--War
on the Barbary Coast                                                 393

CHAPTER II.

THE KNIGHTS HOSPITALLERS OF ST. JOHN.

Masters of Rhodes--Driven from Rhodes--Established at Malta--Menaced by
Solyman--La Valette--His Preparations for Defence                    409

CHAPTER III.

SIEGE OF MALTA.

Condition of Malta--Arrival of the Turks--They reconnoitre the
Island--Siege of St. Elmo--Its Heroic Defence--Its Fall              414

CHAPTER IV.

SIEGE OF MALTA.

Il Borgo invested--Storming of St. Michael--Slaughter of the
Turks--Incessant Cannonade--General Assault--The Turks
Repulsed--Perilous Condition of Il Borgo--Constancy of La Valette    432

CHAPTER V.

SIEGE OF MALTA.

The Turks dispirited--Reinforcement from Sicily--Siege raised--Mustapha
defeated--Rejoicings of the Christians--Mortification of Solyman--Review
of the Siege--Subsequent History of La Valette                       445

CHAPTER VI.

DON CARLOS.

His Education and Character--Dangerous Illness--Extravagant
Behavior--Opinions respecting him--His Connection with the
Flemings--Project of Flight--Insane Conduct--Arrest                  456

CHAPTER VII.

DEATH OF DON CARLOS.

Causes of his Imprisonment--His Rigorous Confinement--His Excesses--His
Death--Llorente's Account--Various Accounts--Suspicious
Circumstances--Quarrel in the Palace--Obsequies of Carlos            471

CHAPTER VIII.

DEATH OF ISABELLA.

Queen Isabella--Her Relations with Carlos--Her Illness and Death--Her
Character                                                            490

FOOTNOTES




HISTORY OF PHILIP THE SECOND.




BOOK I.




CHAPTER I.

ABDICATION OF CHARLES THE FIFTH.

Introductory Remarks.--Spain under Charles the Fifth.--He prepares to
resign the Crown.--His Abdication.--His Return to Spain.--His Journey to
Yuste.

1555.


In a former work, I have endeavored to portray the period when the
different provinces of Spain were consolidated into one empire under the
rule of Ferdinand and Isabella; when, by their wise and beneficent
policy, the nation emerged from the obscurity in which it had so long
remained behind the Pyrenees, and took its place as one of the great
members of the European commonwealth. I now propose to examine a later
period in the history of the same nation,--the reign of Philip the
Second; when, with resources greatly enlarged, and territory extended by
a brilliant career of discovery and conquest, it had risen to the zenith
of its power; but when, under the mischievous policy of the
administration, it had excited the jealousy of its neighbors, and
already disclosed those germs of domestic corruption which gradually led
to its dismemberment and decay.

By the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, most of the states of the
Peninsula became united under one common rule; and in 1516, the sceptre
of Spain, with its dependencies both in the Old and the New World,
passed into the hands of their grandson, Charles the Fifth, who, though
he shared the throne nominally with his mother, Joanna, became, in
consequence of her incapacity, the real sovereign of this vast empire.
He had before inherited, through his father, Philip the Handsome, that
fair portion of the ducal realm of Burgundy which comprehended Franche
Comté and the Netherlands. In 1519, he was elected to the imperial crown
of Germany. Not many years elapsed before his domain was still further
enlarged by the barbaric empires of Mexico and Peru; and Spain then
first realized the magnificent vaunt, since so often repeated, that the
sun never set within the borders of her dominions.

Yet the importance of Spain did not rise with the importance of her
acquisitions. She was, in a manner, lost in the magnitude of these
acquisitions. Some of the rival nations which owned the sway of Charles,
in Europe, were of much greater importance than Spain, and attracted
much more attention from their contemporaries. In the earlier period of
that monarch's reign, there was a moment when a contest was going
forward in Castile, of the deepest interest to mankind. Unfortunately,
the "War of the _Comunidades_," as it was termed, was soon closed by
the ruin of the patriots; and, on the memorable field of Villalar, the
liberties of Spain received a blow from which they were destined not to
recover for centuries. From that fatal hour,--the bitter fruit of the
jealousy of castes and the passions of the populace,--an unbroken
tranquillity reigned throughout the country; such a tranquillity as
naturally flows not from a free and well-conducted government, but from
a despotic one. In this political tranquillity, however, the intellect
of Spain did not slumber. Sheltered from invasion by the barrier of the
Pyrenees, her people were allowed to cultivate the arts of peace, so
long as they did not meddle with politics or religion,--in other words,
with the great interests of humanity; while the more adventurous found a
scope for their prowess in European wars, or in exploring the boundless
regions of the Western world.

While there was so little passing in Spain to attract the eye of the
historian, Germany became the theatre of one of those momentous
struggles which have had a permanent influence on the destinies of
mankind. It was in this reign that the great battle of religious liberty
was begun; and the attention and personal presence of Charles were
necessarily demanded most in the country where that battle was to be
fought. But a small part of his life was passed in Spain, in comparison
with what he spent in other parts of his dominions. His early
attachments, his lasting sympathies, were with the people of the
Netherlands; for Flanders was the place of his birth. He spoke the
language of that country more fluently than the Castilian; although he
knew the various languages of his dominions so well, that he could
address his subjects from every quarter in their native dialect. In the
same manner, he could accommodate himself to their peculiar national
manners and tastes. But this flexibility was foreign to the genius of
the Spaniard. Charles brought nothing from Spain but a religious zeal,
amounting to bigotry, which took deep root in a melancholy temperament
inherited from his mother. His tastes were all Flemish. He introduced
the gorgeous ceremonial of the Burgundian court into his own palace, and
into the household of his son. He drew his most trusted and familiar
counsellors from Flanders; and this was one great cause of the troubles
which, at the beginning of his reign, distracted Castile. There was
little to gratify the pride of the Spaniard in the position which he
occupied at the imperial court. Charles regarded Spain chiefly for the
resources she afforded for carrying on his ambitious enterprises. When
he visited her, it was usually to draw supplies from the cortes. The
Spaniards understood this, and bore less affection to his person than to
many of their monarchs far inferior to him in the qualities for exciting
it. They hardly regarded him as one of the nation. There was, indeed,
nothing national in the reign of Charles. His most intimate relations
were with Germany; and as the Emperor Charles the Fifth of Germany, not
as King Charles the First of Spain, he was known in his own time, and
stands recorded on the pages of history.

[Sidenote: SPAIN UNDER CHARLES THE FIFTH.]

When Charles ascended the throne, at the beginning of the sixteenth
century, Europe may be said to have been much in the same condition, in
one respect, as she was at the beginning of the eighth. The Turk menaced
her on the east, in the same manner as the Arab had before menaced her
on the west. The hour seemed to be fast approaching which was to decide
whether Christianity or Mahometanism should hold the ascendant. The
Ottoman tide of conquest rolled up to the very walls of Vienna; and
Charles, who, as head of the empire, was placed on the frontier of
Christendom, was called on to repel it. When thirty-two years of age, he
marched against the formidable Solyman, drove him to an ignominious
retreat, and, at less cost of life than is often expended in a skirmish,
saved Europe from invasion. He afterwards crossed the sea to Tunis,
then occupied by a horde of pirates, the scourge of the Mediterranean.
He beat them in a bloody battle, slew their chief, and liberated ten
thousand captives from their dungeons. All Europe rang with the praises
of the young hero, who thus consecrated his arms to the service of the
Cross, and stood forward as the true champion of Christendom.

But from this high position Charles was repeatedly summoned to other
contests, of a more personal and far less honorable character. Such was
his long and bloody quarrel with Francis the First. It was hardly
possible that two princes, so well matched in years, power, pretensions,
and, above all, love of military glory, with dominions touching on one
another through their whole extent, could long remain without cause of
rivalry and collision. Such rivalry did exist from the moment that the
great prize of the empire was adjudged to Charles; and through the whole
of their long struggle, with the exception of a few reverses, the
superior genius of the emperor triumphed over his bold, but less politic
adversary.

There was still a third contest, on which the strength of the Spanish
monarch was freely expended through the greater part of his reign,--his
contest with the Lutheran princes of Germany. Here, too, for a long
time, fortune favored him. But it is easier to contend against man than
against a great moral principle. The principle of reform had struck too
deep into the mind of Germany to be eradicated by force or by fraud.
Charles, for a long time, by a course of crafty policy, succeeded in
baffling the Protestant league; and, by the decisive victory at
Muhlberg, seemed, at last, to have broken it altogether. But his success
only ministered to his ruin. The very man on whom he bestowed the spoils
of victory turned them against his benefactor. Charles, ill in body and
mind, and glad to escape from his enemies under cover of the night and a
driving tempest, was at length compelled to sign the treaty of Passau,
which secured to the Protestants those religious immunities against
which he had contended through his whole reign.

Not long after, he experienced another humiliating reverse from France,
then ruled by a younger rival, Henry the Second, the son of Francis. The
good star of Charles--the star of Austria--seemed to have set; and as he
reluctantly raised the siege of Metz, he was heard bitterly to exclaim,
"Fortune is a strumpet, who reserves her favors for the young!"

With spirits greatly depressed by his reverses, and still more by the
state of his health, which precluded him from taking part in the manly
and martial exercises to which he had been accustomed, he felt that he
had no longer the same strength as formerly to bear up under the toils
of empire. When but little more than thirty years of age, he had been
attacked by the gout, and of late had been so sorely afflicted with that
disorder, that he had nearly lost the use of his limbs. The man who,
cased in steel, had passed whole days and nights in the saddle,
indifferent to the weather and the season, could now hardly drag himself
along with the aid of his staff. For days he was confined to his bed;
and he did not leave his room for weeks together. His mind became
oppressed with melancholy, which was, to some extent, a constitutional
infirmity. His chief pleasure was in listening to books, especially of a
religious character. He denied himself to all except his most intimate
and trusted counsellors. He lost his interest in affairs; and for whole
months, according to one of his biographers, who had access to his
person, he refused to receive any public communication, or to subscribe
any document, or even letter.[2] One cannot understand how the business
of the nation could have been conducted in such a state of things.
After the death of his mother, Joanna, his mind became more deeply
tinctured with those gloomy fancies which in her amounted to downright
insanity. He imagined he heard her voice calling on him to follow her.
His thoughts were now turned from secular concerns to those of his own
soul; and he resolved to put in execution a plan for resigning his crown
and withdrawing to some religious retreat, where he might prepare for
his latter end. This plan he had conceived many years before, in the
full tide of successful ambition. So opposite were the elements at work
in the character of this extraordinary man!

Although he had chosen the place of his retreat, he had been deterred
from immediately executing his purpose by the forlorn condition of his
mother, and the tender age of his son. The first obstacle was now
removed by the death of Joanna, after a reign--a nominal reign--of half
a century, in which the cloud that had settled on her intellect at her
husband's death was never dispelled.

The age of Philip, his son and heir, was also no longer an objection.
From early boyhood he had been trained to the duties of his station,
and, when very young, had been intrusted with the government of Castile.
His father had surrounded him with able and experienced counsellors, and
their pupil, who showed a discretion far beyond his years, had largely
profited by their lessons. He had now entered his twenty-ninth year, an
age when the character is formed, and when, if ever, he might be
supposed qualified to assume the duties of government. His father had
already ceded to him the sovereignty of Naples and Milan, on occasion of
the prince's marriage with Mary of England. He was on a visit to that
country, when Charles, having decided on the act of abdication, sent to
require his son's attendance at Brussels, where the ceremony was to be
performed. The different provinces of the Netherlands were also summoned
to send their deputies, with authority to receive the emperor's
resignation, and to transfer their allegiance to his successor. As a
preliminary step, on the twenty-second of October, 1555, he conferred on
Philip the grand-mastership--which, as Lord of Flanders, was vested in
himself--of the _toison d'or_, the order of the Golden Fleece, of
Burgundy; the proudest and most coveted, at that day, of all the
military orders of knighthood.

Preparations were then made for conducting the ceremony of abdication
with all the pomp and solemnity suited to so august an occasion. The
great hall of the royal palace of Brussels was selected for the scene of
it. The walls of the spacious apartment were hung with tapestry, and the
floor was covered with rich carpeting. A scaffold was erected, at one
end of the room, to the height of six or seven steps. On it was placed a
throne, or chair of state, for the emperor, with other seats for Philip,
and for the great Flemish lords who were to attend the person of their
sovereign. Above the throne was suspended a gorgeous canopy, on which
were emblazoned the arms of the ducal house of Burgundy. In front of the
scaffolding, accommodations were provided for the deputies of the
provinces, who were to be seated on benches arranged according to their
respective rights of precedence.[3]

[Sidenote: CEREMONY OF ABDICATION.]

On the twenty-fifth of October, the day fixed for the ceremony, Charles
the Fifth executed an instrument by which he ceded to his son the
sovereignty of Flanders.[4] Mass was then performed; and the emperor,
accompanied by Philip and a numerous retinue, proceeded in state to the
great hall, where the deputies were already assembled.[5]

Charles was, at this time, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. His form
was slightly bent,--but it was by disease more than by time,--and on his
countenance might be traced the marks of anxiety and rough exposure. Yet
it still wore that majesty of expression so conspicuous in his portraits
by the inimitable pencil of Titian. His hair, once of a light color,
approaching to yellow, had begun to turn before he was forty, and, as
well as his beard, was now gray. His forehead was broad and expansive;
his nose aquiline. His blue eyes and fair complexion intimated his
Teutonic descent. The only feature in his countenance decidedly bad was
his lower jaw, protruding with its thick, heavy lip, so characteristic
of the physiognomies of the Austrian dynasty.[6]

In stature he was about the middle height. His limbs were strongly knit,
and once well formed, though now the extremities were sadly distorted by
disease. The emperor leaned for support on a staff with one hand, while
with the other he rested on the arm of William of Orange, who, then
young, was destined at a later day to become the most formidable enemy
of his house. The grave demeanor of Charles was rendered still more
impressive by his dress; for he was in mourning for his mother; and the
sable hue of his attire was relieved only by a single ornament, the
superb collar of the Golden Fleece, which hung from his neck.

Behind the emperor came Philip, the heir of his vast dominions. He was
of a middle height, of much the same proportions as his father, whom he
resembled also in his lineaments,--except that those of the son wore a
more sombre, and perhaps a sinister expression; while there was a
reserve in his manner, in spite of his efforts to the contrary, as if he
would shroud his thoughts from observation. The magnificence of his
dress corresponded with his royal station, and formed a contrast to that
of his father, who was quitting the pomp and grandeur of the world, on
which the son was about to enter.

Next to Philip came Mary, the emperor's sister, formerly queen of
Hungary. She had filled the post of regent of the Low Countries for
nearly twenty years, and now welcomed the hour when she was to resign
the burden of sovereignty to her nephew, and withdraw, like her imperial
brother, into private life. Another sister of Charles, Eleanor, widow of
the French king, Francis the First, also took part in these ceremonies,
previous to her departure for Spain, whither she was to accompany the
emperor.

After these members of the imperial family came the nobility of the
Netherlands, the knights of the Golden Fleece, the royal counsellors,
and the great officers of the household, all splendidly attired in their
robes of state, and proudly displaying the insignia of their orders.
When the emperor had mounted his throne, with Philip on his right hand,
the Regent Mary on his left, and the rest of his retinue disposed along
the seats prepared for them on the platform, the president of the
council of Flanders addressed the assembly. He briefly explained the
object for which they had been summoned, and the motives which had
induced their master to abdicate the throne; and he concluded by
requiring them, in their sovereign's name, to transfer their allegiance
from himself to Philip, his son and rightful heir.

After a pause, Charles rose to address a few parting words to his
subjects. He stood with apparent difficulty, and rested his right hand
on the shoulder of the Prince of Orange, intimating, by this preference
on so distinguished an occasion, the high favour in which he held the
young nobleman. In the other hand he held a paper, containing some hints
for his discourse, and occasionally cast his eyes on it, to refresh his
memory. He spoke in the French language.

He was unwilling, he said, to part from his people without a few words
from his own lips. It was now forty years since he had been intrusted
with the sceptre of the Netherlands. He was soon after called to take
charge of a still more extensive empire, both in Spain and in Germany,
involving a heavy responsibility for one so young. He had, however,
endeavored earnestly to do his duty to the best of his abilities. He had
been ever mindful of the interests of the dear land of his birth, but,
above all, of the great interests of Christianity. His first object had
been to maintain these inviolate against the infidel. In this he had
been thwarted, partly by the jealousy of neighboring powers, and partly
by the factions of the heretical princes of Germany.

In the performance of his great work, he had never consulted his ease.
His expeditions, in war and in peace, to France, England, Germany,
Italy, Spain, and Flanders, had amounted to no less than forty. Four
times he had crossed the Spanish seas, and eight times the
Mediterranean. He had shrunk from no toil, while he had the strength to
endure it. But a cruel malady had deprived him of that strength.
Conscious of his inability to discharge the duties of his station, he
had long since come to the resolution to relinquish it. From this he had
been diverted only by the situation of his unfortunate parent, and by
the inexperience of his son. These objections no longer existed; and he
should not stand excused, in the eye of Heaven or of the world, if he
should insist on still holding the reins of government when he was
incapable of managing them,--when every year his incapacity must become
more obvious.

[Sidenote: CEREMONY OF ABDICATION]

He begged them to believe that this, and no other motive, induced him to
resign the sceptre which he had so long swayed. They had been to him
dutiful and loving subjects; and such, he doubted not, they would prove
to his successor. Above all things, he besought them to maintain the
purity of the faith. If any one, in these licentious times, had admitted
doubts into his bosom, let such doubts be extirpated at once. "I know
well," he concluded, "that, in my long administration, I have fallen
into many errors, and committed some wrongs, but it was from ignorance;
and, if there be any here whom I have wronged, they will believe that it
was not intended, and grant me their forgiveness."[7]

While the emperor was speaking, a breathless silence pervaded the whole
audience. Charles had ever been dear to the people of the
Netherlands,--the land of his birth. They took a national pride in his
achievements, and felt that his glory reflected a peculiar lustre on
themselves. As they now gazed for the last time on that revered form,
and listened to the parting admonitions from his lips, they were deeply
affected, and not a dry eye was to be seen in the assembly.

After a short interval, Charles, turning to Philip, who, in an attitude
of deep respect, stood awaiting his commands, he thus addressed
him:--"If the vast possessions which are now bestowed on you had come by
inheritance, there would be abundant cause for gratitude. How much more,
when they come as a free gift in the lifetime of your father! But,
however large the debt, I shall consider it all repaid, if you only
discharge your duty to your subjects. So rule over them, that men shall
commend, and not censure me for the part I am now acting. Go on as you
have begun. Fear God; live justly; respect the laws; above all, cherish
the interests of religion; and may the Almighty bless you with a son, to
whom, when old and stricken with disease, you may be able to resign your
kingdom with the same good-will with which I now resign mine to you."

As he ceased, Philip, much affected, would have thrown himself at his
father's feet, assuring him of his intention to do all in his power to
merit such goodness; but Charles, raising his son, tenderly embraced
him, while the tears flowed fast down his cheeks. Every one, even the
most stoical, was touched by this affecting scene; "and nothing," says
one who was present, "was to be heard, throughout the hall, but sobs and
ill-suppressed moans." Charles, exhausted by his efforts, and deadly
pale, sank back upon his seat; while, with feeble accents, he exclaimed,
as he gazed on his people, "God bless you! God bless you!"[8]

After these emotions had somewhat subsided, Philip arose, and,
delivering himself in French, briefly told the deputies of the regret
which he felt at not being able to address them in their native
language, and to assure them of the favor and high regard in which he
held them. This would be done for him by the bishop of Arras.

This was Antony Perennot, better known as Cardinal Granvelle, son of the
famous minister of Charles the Fifth, and destined himself to a still
higher celebrity as the minister of Philip the Second. In clear and
fluent language, he gave the deputies the promise of their new sovereign
to respect the laws and liberties of the nation; invoking them, on his
behalf, to aid him with their counsels, and, like royal vassals, to
maintain the authority of the law in his dominions. After a suitable
response from the deputies, filled with sentiments of regret for the
loss of their late monarch, and with those of loyalty to their new one,
the Regent Mary formally abdicated her authority, and the session
closed. So ended a ceremony, which, considering the importance of its
consequences, the character of the actors, and the solemnity of the
proceedings, is one of the most remarkable in history. That the crown of
the monarch is lined with thorns, is a trite maxim; and it requires no
philosophy to teach us that happiness does not depend on station. Yet,
numerous as are the instances of those who have waded to a throne
through seas of blood, there are but few who, when they have once tasted
the sweets of sovereignty, have been content to resign them; still fewer
who, when they have done so, have had the philosophy to conform to their
change of condition, and not to repent it. Charles, as the event proved,
was one of these few.

On the sixteenth day of January, 1556, in the presence of such of the
Spanish nobility as were at the court, he executed the deeds by which he
ceded the sovereignty of Castile and Aragon, with their dependencies, to
Philip.[9]

The last act that remained for him to perform was to resign the crown of
Germany in favor of his brother Ferdinand. But this he consented to
defer some time longer, at the request of Ferdinand himself, who wished
to prepare the minds of the electoral college for this unexpected
transfer of the imperial sceptre. But, while Charles consented to retain
for the present the title of Emperor, the real power and the burden of
sovereignty would remain with Ferdinand.[10]

At the time of abdicating the throne of the Netherlands, Charles was
still at war with France. He had endeavored to negotiate a permanent
peace with that country; and, although he failed in this, he had the
satisfaction, on the fifth of February, 1556, to arrange a truce for
five years, which left both powers in the possession of their respective
conquests. In the existing state of these conquests, the truce was by no
means favorable to Spain. But Charles would have made even larger
concessions, rather than leave the legacy of a war to his less
experienced successor.

[Sidenote: HIS RETURN TO SPAIN]

Having thus completed all his arrangements, by which the most powerful
prince of Europe descended to the rank of a private gentleman, Charles
had no longer reason to defer his departure, and he proceeded to the
place of embarkation. He was accompanied by a train of Flemish
courtiers, and by the foreign ambassadors, to the latter of whom he
warmly commended the interests of his son. A fleet of fifty-six sail was
riding at anchor in the port of Flushing, ready to transport him and his
retinue to Spain. From the imperial household, consisting of seven
hundred and sixty-two persons, he selected a hundred and fifty as his
escort; and accompanied by his sisters, after taking an affectionate
farewell of Philip, whose affairs detained him in Flanders, on the
thirteenth of September he sailed from the harbor of Flushing.

The passage was a boisterous one; and Charles, who suffered greatly from
his old enemy, the gout, landed, in a feeble state, at Laredo, in
Biscay, on the twenty-eighth of the month. Scarcely had he left the
vessel, when a storm fell with fury on the fleet, and did some mischief
to the shipping in the harbor. The pious Spaniard saw in this the finger
of Providence, which had allowed no harm to the squadron till its royal
freight had been brought safely to the shore.[11]

On landing, Charles complained, and with some reason, of the scanty
preparations that had been made for him. Philip had written several
times to his sister, the regent, ordering her to have everything ready
for the emperor on his arrival.[12] Joanna had accordingly issued her
orders to that effect. But promptness and punctuality are not virtues of
the Spaniard. Some apology may be found for their deficiency in the
present instance; as Charles himself had so often postponed his
departure from the Low Countries, that, when he did come, the people
were, in a manner, taken by surprise. That the neglect was not
intentional is evident from their subsequent conduct.[13]

Charles, whose infirmities compelled him to be borne in a litter, was
greeted, everywhere on the road, like a sovereign returning to his
dominions. It was evening when he reached the ancient city of Burgos;
and, as he passed through its illuminated streets the bells rang
merrily, to give him welcome. He remained there three days, experiencing
the hospitalities of the great constable, and receiving the homage of
the northern lords, as well as of the people, who thronged the route by
which he was to pass. At Torquemada, among those who came to pay their
respects to their former master was Gasca, the good president of Peru.
He had been sent to America to suppress the insurrection of Gonzalo
Pizarro, and restore tranquillity to the country. In the execution of
this delicate mission, he succeeded so well, that the emperor, on his
return, had raised him to the see of Plasencia; and the excellent man
now lived in his diocese, where, in the peaceful discharge of his
episcopal functions, he probably enjoyed far greater contentment than
he could have derived from the dazzling, but difficult post of an
American viceroy.

From Torquemada, Charles slowly proceeded to Valladolid, where his
daughter, the Regent Joanna, was then holding her court. Preparations
were made for receiving him in a manner suited to his former rank. But
Charles positively declined these honours, reserving them for his two
sisters, the dowager queens of France and Hungary, who accordingly made
their entrance into the capital in great state, on the day following
that on which their royal brother had entered it with the simplicity of
a private citizen.

He remained here some time, in order to recover from the fatigue of his
journey; and, although he took little part in the festivities of the
court, he gave audience to his ancient ministers, and to such of the
Castilian grandees as were eager to render him their obeisance. At the
court he had also the opportunity of seeing his grandson Carlos, the
heir of the monarchy; and his quick eye, it is said, in this short time,
saw enough in the prince's deportment to fill him with ominous
forebodings.

Charles prolonged his stay fourteen days in Valladolid, during which
time his health was much benefited by the purity and the dryness of the
atmosphere. On his departure, his royal sisters would have borne him
company, and even have fixed their permanent residence near his own. But
to this he would not consent; and, taking a tender farewell of every
member of his family,--as one who was never to behold them again,--he
resumed his journey.

The place he had chosen for his retreat was the monastery of Yuste, in
the province of Estremadura, not many miles from Plasencia. On his way
thither he halted near three months at Jarandilla, the residence of the
count of Oropesa, waiting there for the completion of some repairs that
were going on in the monastery, as well as for the remittance of a
considerable sum of money, which he was daily expecting. This he
required chiefly to discharge the arrears due to some of his old
retainers; and the failure of the remittance has brought some obloquy on
Philip, who could so soon show himself unmindful of his obligations to
his father. But the blame should rather be charged on Philip's ministers
than on Philip, absent as he was at that time from the country, and
incapable of taking personal cognizance of the matter. Punctuality in
his pecuniary engagements was a virtue to which neither Charles nor
Philip--the masters of the Indies--could at any time lay claim. But the
imputation of parsimony, or even indifference, on the part of the
latter, in his relations with his father, is fully disproved by the
subsequent history of that monarch at the convent of Yuste.[14]

[Sidenote: BIRTH OF PHILIP.]

This place, it is said, had attracted his eye many years before, when on
a visit to that part of the country, and he marked it for his future
residence. The convent was tenanted by monks of the strictest order of
Saint Jerome. But, however strict in their monastic rule, the good
fathers showed much taste in the selection of their ground, as well as
in the embellishment of it. It lay in a wild, romantic country,
embosomed among hills that stretch along the northern confines of
Estremadura. The building, which was of great antiquity, had been
surrounded by its inmates with cultivated gardens, and with groves of
orange, lemon, and myrtle, whose fragrance was tempered by the
refreshing coolness of the waters that gushed forth in abundance from
the rocky sides of the hills. It was a delicious retreat, and, by its
calm seclusion and the character of its scenery, was well suited to
withdraw the mind from the turmoil of the world, and dispose it to
serious meditation. Here the monarch, after a life of restless ambition,
proposed to spend the brief remainder of his days, and dedicate it to
the salvation of his soul. He could not, however, as the event proved,
close his heart against all sympathy with mankind, nor refuse to take
some part in the great questions which then agitated the world. Charles
was not master of that ignoble philosophy which enabled Diocletian to
turn with contentment from the cares of an empire to those of a
cabbage-garden.--In this retirement we must now leave the royal recluse,
while we follow the opening career of the prince whose reign is the
subject of the present history.




CHAPTER II.

EARLY DAYS OF PHILIP.

Birth of Philip the Second.--His Education.--Intrusted with the
Regency.--Marries Mary of Portugal.--Visit to Flanders.--Public
Festivities.--Ambitious Schemes.--Returns to Spain.

1527-1551.


Philip the Second was born at Valladolid, on the twenty-first of May,
1527. His mother was the Empress Isabella, daughter of Emanuel the Great
of Portugal. By his father he was descended from the ducal houses of
Burgundy and Austria. By both father and mother he claimed a descent
from Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic of Spain. As by blood he was
half a Spaniard, so by temperament and character he proved to be wholly
so.

The ceremony of his baptism was performed with all due solemnity, by
Tavera, archbishop of Toledo, on the twenty-fifth of June, when the
royal infant received the name of Philip, after his paternal
grandfather, Philip the Handsome, whose brief reign--for which he was
indebted to his union with Joanna, queen-proprietor of Castile--has
hardly secured him a place in the line of Castilian sovereigns.

The birth of a son--the heir of so magnificent an empire--was hailed
with delight both by Charles and by the whole nation, who prepared to
celebrate it in a style worthy of the event, when tidings reached them
of the capture of Pope Clement the Seventh and the sack of Rome by the
Spanish troops under the constable de Bourbon. The news of this event,
and the cruelties inflicted by the conquerors, filled all Europe with
consternation. Even the Protestants, who had no superfluous sympathy to
spare for the sufferings of the pope, were shocked by the perpetration
of atrocities compared with which the conduct of Attila and Alaric might
almost be deemed merciful. Whatever responsibility may attach to Charles
on the score of the expedition, it would be injustice to him to suppose
that he did not share in the general indignation at the manner in which
it was conducted. At all events, he could hardly venture to outrage the
feelings of Christendom so far as to take the present moment for one of
public rejoicing. Orders were instantly issued to abandon the intended
festivities, greatly to the discontent of the people, whose sympathy for
the pope did not by any means incline them to put this restraint on the
expression of their loyalty; and they drew from the disappointment an
uncomfortable augury that the reign of the young prince boded no good to
the Catholic religion.[15]

It was not long, however, before the people of Castile had an
opportunity for the full display of their enthusiasm, on the occasion of
Philip's recognition as rightful heir to the crown. The ceremony was
conducted with great pomp and splendor in the cortes at Madrid, on the
nineteenth of April, 1528, when he was but eleven months old. The prince
was borne in the arms of his mother, who, with the emperor, was present
on the occasion; while the nobles, the clergy, and the commons took the
oath of allegiance to the royal infant, as successor to the crown of
Castile. The act of homage was no sooner published, than the nation, as
if by way of compensation for the past, abandoned itself to a general
jubilee. Illuminations and bonfires were lighted up in all the towns and
villages; while everywhere were to be seen dancing, bull-fights, tilts
of reeds, and the other national games of that chivalrous and romantic
land.

Soon after this, Charles was called by his affairs to other parts of his
far-extended empire, and he left his infant son to the care of a
Portuguese lady, Doña Leonor Mascareñas, or rather to that of the
Empress Isabella, in whose prudence and maternal watchfulness he could
safely confide. On the emperor's return to Spain, when his son was
hardly seven years old, he formed for him a separate establishment, and
selected two persons for the responsible office of superintending his
education.[16]

One of these personages was Juan Martinez Siliceo, at that time
professor in the College of Salamanca. He was a man of piety and
learning, of an accommodating temper,--too accommodating, it appears
from some of Charles's letters, for the good of his pupil, though not,
as it would seem, for his own good, since he found such favor with the
prince, that, from an humble ecclesiastic, he was subsequently preferred
to the highest dignities of the Church.

[Sidenote: HIS EDUCATION.]

Under him Philip was instructed in the ancient classics, and made such
progress in Latin, that he could write it, and did write it frequently
in after life, with ease and correctness. He studied, also, Italian and
French. He seems to have had little knowledge of the former, but French
he could speak indifferently well, though he was rarely inclined to
venture beyond his own tongue. He showed a more decided taste for
science, especially the mathematics. He made a careful study of the
principles of architecture; and the fruits of this study are to be seen
in some of the noblest monuments erected in that flourishing period of
the arts. In sculpture and painting he also made some proficiency, and
became, in later life, no contemptible critic,--at least for a
sovereign.

The other functionary charged with Philip's education was Don Juan de
Zuñiga, commendador mayor of Castile. He taught his pupil to fence, to
ride, to take his part at the tilts and tourneys, and, in short, to
excel in the chivalrous exercises familiar to cavaliers of his time. He
encouraged Philip to invigorate his constitution by the hardy pleasures
of the chase, to which, however, he was but little addicted as he
advanced in years.

But, besides these personal accomplishments, no one was better qualified
than Zuñiga to instruct his people in the duties belonging to his royal
station. He was a man of ancient family, and had passed much of his life
in courts. But he had none of the duplicity or of the suppleness which
often marks the character of the courtier. He possessed too high a
sentiment of honor to allow him to trifle with truth. He spoke his mind
plainly, too plainly sometimes for the taste of his pupil. Charles, who
understood the character of Zuñiga, wrote to his son to honor and to
cherish him. "If he deals plainly with you," he said, "it is for the
love he bears you. If he were to flatter you, and be only solicitous of
ministering to your wishes, he would be like all the rest of the world,
and you would have no one near to tell you the truth;--and a worse thing
cannot happen to any man, old or young; but most of all to the young,
from their want of experience to discern truth from error." The wise
emperor, who knew how rarely it is that truth is permitted to find its
way to royal ears, set a just value on the man who had the courage to
speak it.[17]

Under the influence of these teachers, and, still more, of the
circumstances in which he was placed,--the most potent teachers of
all,--Philip grew in years, and slowly unfolded the peculiar qualities
of his disposition. He seemed cautious and reserved in his demeanor, and
slow of speech; yet what he said had a character of thought beyond his
age. At no time did he discover that buoyancy of spirit, or was he
betrayed into those sallies of temper, which belong to a bold and
adventurous, and often to a generous nature. His deportment was marked
by a seriousness that to some might seem to savor of melancholy. He was
self-possessed, so that even as a boy he was rarely off his guard.[18]

The emperor, whose affairs called him away from Spain much the greater
part of his time, had not the power of personally superintending the
education of his son. Unfortunately for the latter, his excellent mother
died when he was but twelve years old. Charles, who loved his wife as
much as a man is capable of loving whose soul is filled with schemes of
boundless ambition, was at Madrid when he received tidings of her
illness. He posted in all haste to Toledo, where the queen then was, but
arrived there only in time to embrace her cold remains before they were
consigned to the sepulchre. The desolate monarch abandoned himself to an
agony of grief, and was with difficulty withdrawn from the apartment by
his attendants, to indulge his solitary regrets in the neighboring
monastery of La Sisla.

Isabella well deserved to be mourned by her husband. She was a woman
from all accounts, possessed of many high and generous qualities. Such
was her fortitude, that, at the time of her confinement, she was never
heard to utter a groan. She seemed to think any demonstration of
suffering a weakness, and had the chamber darkened that her attendants
might not see the distress painted on her countenance.[19] With this
constancy of spirit, she united many feminine virtues. The palace, under
her rule, became a school of industry. Instead of wasting her leisure
hours in frivolous pleasures, she might be seen busily occupied, with
her maidens, in the elegant labors of the loom; and, like her ancestor,
the good Queen Isabella the Catholic, she sent more than one piece of
tapestry, worked by her own hands, to adorn the altars of Jerusalem.
These excellent qualities were enhanced by manners so attractive, that
her effigy was struck on a medal, with a device of the three Graces on
the reverse side, bearing the motto, _Has Habet et superat_.[20]

Isabella was but thirty-six years old at the time of her death. Charles
was not forty. He never married again. Yet the bereavement seems to have
had little power to soften his nature, or incline him to charity for the
misconduct, or compassion for the misfortunes of others. It was but a
few months after the death of his wife, that, on occasion of the
insurrection of Ghent, he sought a passage through the territory of his
ancient enemy of France, descended on the offending city, and took such
vengeance on its wretched inhabitants as made all Europe ring with his
cruelty.[21]

Philip was too young at this time to take part in the administration of
the kingdom during his father's absence. But he was surrounded by able
statesmen, who familiarized him with ideas of government, by admitting
him to see the workings of the machinery which he was one day to direct.
Charles was desirous that the attention of his son, even in boyhood,
should be turned to those affairs which were to form the great business
of his future life. It seems even thus early--at this period of mental
depression--the emperor cherished the plan of anticipating the natural
consequence of his decease, by resigning his dominions into the hands of
Philip so soon as he should be qualified to rule them.

No event occurred to disturb the tranquillity of Spain during the
emperor's absence from that country, to which he returned in the winter
of 1541. It was after his disastrous expedition against Algiers,--the
most disastrous of any that he had yet undertaken. He there saw his navy
sunk or scattered by the tempest, and was fortunate in finding a
shelter, with its shattered remnants, in the port of Carthagena. Soon
after landing, he received a letter from Philip, condoling with him on
his losses, and striving to cheer him with the reflection, that they had
been caused by the elements, not by his enemies. With this tone of
philosophy were mingled expressions of sympathy; and Charles may have
been gratified with the epistle,--if he could believe it the
composition of his son.[22] Philip soon after this made a journey to
the south; and, in the society of one who was now the chief object of
his affections, the emperor may have found the best consolation in his
misfortunes.

[Sidenote: INTRUSTED WITH THE REGENCY.]

The French had availed themselves of the troubled state of Charles's
affairs to make a descent upon Roussillon; and the Dauphin now lay in
some strength before the gates of Perpignan. The emperor considered this
a favorable moment for Philip to take his first lesson in war. The
prince accordingly posted to Valladolid. A considerable force was
quickly mustered; and Philip, taking the command, and supported by some
of the most experienced of his father's generals, descended rapidly
towards the coast. But the Dauphin did not care to wait for his
approach; and, breaking up his camp, he retreated, without striking a
blow, in all haste, across the mountains. Philip entered the town in
triumph, and soon after returned, with the unstained laurels of victory,
to receive his father's congratulations. The promptness of his movements
on this occasion gained him credit with the Spaniards; and the fortunate
result seemed to furnish a favorable augury for the future.

On his return, the prince was called to preside over the cortes at
Monzon,--a central town, where the deputies of Aragon, Catalonia, and
Valencia continued to assemble separately, long after those provinces
had been united to Castile. Philip, with all the forms prescribed by the
constitution, received the homage of the representatives assembled, as
successor to the crown of Aragon.

The war with France, which, after a temporary suspension, had broken out
with greater violence than ever, did not permit the emperor long to
protract his stay in the Peninsula. Indeed, it seemed to his Spanish
subjects that he rarely visited them, except when his exchequer required
to be replenished for carrying on his restless enterprises, and that he
stayed no longer than was necessary to effect this object. On leaving
the country, he intrusted the regency to Philip, under the general
direction of a council consisting of the duke of Alva, Cardinal Tavera,
and the Commendador Cobos. Some time after this, while still lingering
in Catalonia, previous to his embarkation, Charles addressed a letter to
his son, advising him as to his political course, and freely criticising
the characters of the great lords associated with him in the government.
The letter, which is altogether a remarkable document, contains, also,
some wholesome admonitions on Philip's private conduct. "The duke of
Alva," the emperor emphatically wrote, "is the ablest statesman and the
best soldier I have in my dominions. Consult him, above all, in military
affairs; but do not depend upon him entirely in these or in any other
matters. Depend on no one but yourself. The grandees will be too happy
to secure your favor, and through you to govern the land. But, if you
are thus governed, it will be your ruin. The mere suspicion of it will
do you infinite prejudice. Make use of all; but lean exclusively on
none. In your perplexities, ever trust in your Maker. Have no care but
for him." The emperor then passes some strictures on the Commendador
Cobos, as too much inclined to pleasure, at the same time admonishing
Philip of the consequences of a libertine career, fatal alike, he tells
him, to both soul and body. There seems to have been some ground for
this admonition, as the young prince had shown a disposition to
gallantry, which did not desert him in later life. "Yet, on the whole,"
says the monarch, "I will admit I have much reason to be satisfied with
your behavior. But I would have you perfect; and, to speak frankly,
whatever other persons may tell you, you have some things to mend yet.
Your confessor," he continues, "is now your old preceptor, the bishop
of Carthagena,"--to which see the worthy professor had been recently
raised. "He is a good man, as all the world knows; but I hope he will
take better care of your conscience than he did of your studies, and
that he will not show quite so accommodating a temper in regard to the
former as he did with the latter."[23]

On the cover of this curious epistle the emperor indorsed a direction to
his son, to show it to no living person; but if he found himself ill at
any time, to destroy the letter, or seal it up under cover to him. It
would, indeed, have edified those courtiers, who fancied they stood
highest in the royal favor, to see how, to their very depths, their
characters were sounded, and how clearly their schemes of ambition were
revealed to the eye of their master. It was this admirable perception of
character which enabled Charles, so generally, to select the right agent
for the execution of his plans, and thus to insure their success.

The letter from Palamos is one among many similar proofs of the care
with which, even from a distance, Charles watched over his son's course,
and endeavored to form his character. The experienced navigator would
furnish a chart to the youthful pilot, by which, without other aid, he
might securely steer through seas strange and unknown to him. Yet there
was little danger in the navigation, at this period; for Spain lay in a
profound tranquillity, unruffled by a breath from the rude tempest,
that, in other parts of Europe, was unsettling princes on their thrones.

A change was now to take place in Philip's domestic relations. His
magnificent expectations made him, in the opinion of the world, the best
match in Europe. His father had long contemplated the event of his son's
marrying. He had first meditated an alliance for him with Margaret,
daughter of Francis the First, by which means the feud with his ancient
rival might be permanently healed. But Philip's inclination was turned
to an alliance with Portugal. This latter was finally adopted by
Charles; and, in December, 1542, Philip was betrothed to the Infanta
Mary, daughter of John the Third and of Catharine, the emperor's sister.
She was, consequently, cousin-german to Philip. At the same time,
Joanna, Charles's youngest daughter, was affianced to the eldest son of
John the Third, and heir to his crown. The intermarriages of the royal
houses of Castile and Portugal were so frequent, that the several
members stood in multiplied and most perplexing degrees of affinity with
one another.

Joanna was eight years younger than her brother. Charles had one other
child, Mary, born the year after Philip. She was destined to a more
splendid fortune than her sister, as bride of the future emperor of
Germany. Since Philip and the Portuguese princess were now both more
than sixteen years old, being nearly of the same age, it was resolved
that their marriage should no longer be deferred. The place appointed
for the ceremony was the ancient city of Salamanca.

[Sidenote: MARRIES MARY OF PORTUGAL.]

In October, 1543, the Portuguese infanta quitted her father's palace in
Lisbon, and set out for Castile. She was attended by a numerous train of
nobles, with the archbishop of Lisbon at their head. A splendid embassy
was sent to meet her on the borders, and conduct her to Salamanca. At
its head was the duke of Medina Sidonia, chief of the Guzmans, the
wealthiest and most powerful lord in Andalusia. He had fitted up his
palace at Badajoz in the most costly and sumptuous style, for the
accommodation of the princess. The hangings were of cloth of gold; the
couches, the sideboards, and some of the other furniture, of burnished
silver. The duke himself rode in a superb litter, and the mules which
carried it were shod with gold. The members of his household and his
retainers swelled to the number of three thousand, well mounted, wearing
the liveries and cognizance of their master. Among them was the duke's
private band, including several natives of the Indies,--then not a
familiar sight in Spain,--displaying on their breasts broad silver
escutcheons, on which were emblazoned the arms of the Guzmans. The
chronicler is diffuse in his account of the infanta's reception, from
which a few particulars may be selected for such as take an interest in
the Spanish costume and manners of the sixteenth century.

The infanta was five months younger than Philip. She was of the middle
size, with a good figure, though somewhat inclined to _embonpoint_, and
was distinguished by a graceful carriage and a pleasing expression of
countenance. Her dress was of cloth of silver, embroidered with flowers
of gold. She wore a _capa_, or Castilian mantle, of violet-colored
velvet, figured with gold, and a hat of the same materials, surmounted
by a white and azure plume. The housings of the mule were of rich
brocade, and Mary rode on a silver saddle.

As she approached Salamanca, she was met by the rector and professors of
the university, in their academic gowns. Next followed the judges and
_regidores_ of the city, in their robes of office, of crimson velvet,
with hose and shoes of spotless white. After these came the
military,--horse and foot,--in their several companies, making a
brilliant show with their gay uniforms; and, after going through their
various evolutions, they formed into an escort for the princess. In this
way, amidst the sound of music and the shouts of the multitude, the
glittering pageant entered the gates of the capital.

The infanta was there received under a superb canopy, supported by the
magistrates of the city. The late ambassador to Portugal, Don Luis
Sarmiento, who had negotiated the marriage treaty, held the bridle of
her mule; and in this state she arrived at the palace of the duke of
Alva, destined for her reception in Salamanca. Here she was received
with all honour by the duchess, in the presence of a brilliant company
of cavaliers and noble ladies. Each of the ladies was graciously
permitted by the infanta to kiss her hand; but the duchess, the
chronicler is careful to inform us, she distinguished by the honor of an
embrace.

All the while, Philip had been in the presence of the infanta, unknown
to herself. Impatient to see his destined bride, the young prince had
sallied out, with a few attendants, to the distance of five or six miles
from the city, all in the disguise of huntsmen. He wore a slouched
velvet hat on his head, and his face was effectually concealed under a
gauze mask, so that he could mingle in the crowd by the side of the
infanta, and make his own scrutiny, unmarked by any one. In this way he
accompanied the procession during the five hours which it lasted, until
the darkness had set in; "if darkness could be spoken of," says the
chronicler, "where the blaze of ten thousand torches shed a light
stronger than day."

The following evening, November the twelfth, was appointed for the
marriage. The duke and duchess of Alva stood as sponsors, and the
nuptial ceremony was performed by Tavera, archbishop of Toledo. The
festivities were prolonged through another week. The saloons were filled
with the beauty of Castile. The proudest aristocracy in Europe vied with
each other in the display of magnificence at the banquet and the
tourney: and sounds of merriment succeeded to the tranquillity which had
so long reigned in the cloistered shades of Salamanca.

On the nineteenth of the month the new-married pair transferred their
residence to Valladolid,--a city at once fortunate and fatal to the
princess. Well might the chronicler call it "fatal;" for, in less than
two years, July 8th, 1545, she there gave birth to a son, the
celebrated Don Carlos, whose mysterious fate has furnished so fruitful a
theme for speculation. Mary survived the birth of her child but a few
days. Had her life been spared, a mother's care might perhaps have given
a different direction to his character, and, through this, to his
fortunes. The remains of the infanta, first deposited in the cathedral
of Granada, were afterwards removed to the Escorial, that magnificent
mausoleum prepared by her husband for the royalty of Spain.[24]

In the following year died Tavera, archbishop of Toledo. He was an
excellent man, and greatly valued by the emperor; who may be thought to
have passed a sufficient encomium on his worth when he declared, that
"by his death Philip had suffered a greater loss than by that of Mary;
for he could get another wife, but not another Tavera." His place was
filled by Siliceo, Philip's early preceptor, who, after having been
raised to the archiepiscopal see of Toledo, received a cardinal's hat
from Rome. The accommodating spirit of the good ecclesiastic had
doubtless some influence in his rapid advancement from the condition of
a poor teacher in Salamanca to the highest post,--as the see of Toledo,
with its immense revenues and authority, might be considered,--next to
the papacy, in the Christian Church.

For some years, no event of importance occurred to disturb the repose of
the Peninsula. But the emperor was engaged in a stormy career abroad, in
which his arms were at length crowned with success by the decisive
battle of Muhlberg.

This victory, which secured him the person of his greatest enemy, placed
him in a position for dictating terms to the Protestant princes of
Germany. He had subsequently withdrawn to Brussels, where he received an
embassy from Philip, congratulating him on the success of his arms.
Charles was desirous to see his son, from whom he had now been separated
nearly six years. He wished, moreover, to introduce him to the
Netherlands, and make him personally acquainted with the people over
whom he was one day to rule. He sent instructions, accordingly, to
Philip, to repair to Flanders, so soon as the person appointed to
relieve him in the government should arrive in Castile.

The individual selected by the emperor for this office was Maximilian,
the son of his brother Ferdinand. He was a young man of good parts,
correct judgment, and popular manners,--well qualified, notwithstanding
his youth, for the post assigned to him. He was betrothed, as already
mentioned, to the emperor's eldest daughter, his cousin Mary; and the
regency was to be delivered into his hands on the marriage of the
parties.

Philip received his father's commands while presiding at the cortes of
Monzon. He found the Aragonese legislature by no means so tractable as
the Castilian. The deputies from the mountains of Aragon and from the
sea-coast of Catalonia were alike sturdy in their refusal to furnish
further supplies for those ambitious enterprises, which, whatever glory
they might bring to their sovereign, were of little benefit to them. The
independent people of these provinces urged their own claims with a
pertinacity, and criticized the conduct of their rulers with a
bluntness, that was little grateful to the ear of majesty. The
convocation of the Aragonese cortes was, in the view of the king of
Spain, what the convocation of a general council was in that of the
pope,--a measure not to be resorted to but from absolute necessity.

On the arrival of Maximilian in Castile, his marriage with the Infanta
Mary was immediately celebrated. The ceremony took place, with all the
customary pomp, in the courtly city of Valladolid. Among the festivities
that followed may be noticed the performance of a comedy of Ariosto,--a
proof that the beautiful Italian literature, which had exercised a
visible influence on the compositions of the great Castilian poets of
the time, had now commended itself, in some degree, to the popular
taste.

Before leaving the country, Philip, by his father's orders, made a
change in his domestic establishment, which he formed on the Burgundian
model. This was more ceremonious, and far more costly, than the
primitive usage of Castile. A multitude of new offices was created, and
the most important were filled by grandees of the highest class. The
duke of Alva was made _mayor-domo mayor_; Antonio de Toledo, his
kinsman, master of the horse; Figueroa, count of Feria, captain of the
body-guard. Among the chamberlains was Ruy Gomez de Silva, prince of
Eboli, one of the most important members of the cabinet under Philip.
Even the menial offices connected with the person and table of the
prince were held by men of rank. A guard was lodged in the palace.
Philip dined in public in great state, attended by his kings-at-arms,
and by a host of minstrels and musicians. One is reminded of the pompous
etiquette of the court of Louis the Fourteenth. All this, however, was
distasteful to the Spaniards, who did not comprehend why the prince
should relinquish the simple usages of his own land for the fashions of
Burgundy. Neither was it to the taste of Philip himself; but it suited
that of his father, who was desirous that his son should flatter the
Flemings by the assumption of a state to which they had been accustomed
in their Burgundian princes.[25]

Philip, having now completed his arrangements, and surrendered the
regency into the hands of his brother-in-law, had no reason longer to
postpone his journey. He was accompanied by the duke of Alva, Enriquez,
high-admiral of Castile, Ruy Gomez, prince of Eboli, and a long train of
persons of the highest rank. There was, besides, a multitude of younger
cavaliers of family. The proudest nobles of the land contended for the
honor of having their sons take part in the expedition. The number was
still further augmented by a body of artists and men of science. The
emperor was desirous that Philip should make an appearance that would
dazzle the imaginations of the people among whom he passed.

With this brilliant company, Philip began his journey in the autumn of
1548. He took the road to Saragossa, made an excursion to inspect the
fortifications of Perpignan, offered up his prayers at the shrine of Our
Lady of Montserrat, passed a day or two at Barcelona, enjoying the fête
prepared for him in the pleasant citron-gardens of the cardinal of
Trent, and thence proceeded to the port of Rosas, where a Genoese fleet,
over which proudly waved the imperial banner, was riding at anchor, and
awaiting his arrival. It consisted of fifty-eight vessels, furnished by
Genoa, Sicily, and Naples, and commanded by the veteran of a hundred
battles, the famous Andrew Doria.

Philip encountered some rough weather on his passage to Genoa. The doge
and the principal senators came out of port in a magnificent galley to
receive him. The prince landed, amidst the roar of cannon from the walls
and the adjacent fortifications, and was forthwith conducted to the
mansion of the Dorias, preëminent, even in this city of palaces, for
its architectural splendor.

During his stay in Genoa, Philip received all the attentions which an
elegant hospitality could devise. But his hours were not wholly resigned
to pleasure. He received, every day, embassies from the different
Italian states, one of which came from the pope, Paul the Third, with
his nephew, Ottavio Farnese, at its head. Its especial object was to
solicit the prince's interest with his father, for the restitution of
Parma and Placentia to the Holy See. Philip answered in terms
complimentary, indeed, says the historian, "but sufficiently ambiguous
as to the essential."[26] He had already learned his first lesson in
kingcraft. Not long after, the pope sent him a consecrated sword, and
the hat worn by his holiness on Christmas eve, accompanied by an
autograph letter, in which, after expatiating on the mystic import of
his gift, he expressed his confidence that in Philip he was one day to
find the true champion of the Church.

At the end of a fortnight, the royal traveller resumed his journey. He
crossed the famous battle-field of Pavia, and was shown the place where
Francis the First surrendered himself a prisoner, and where the Spanish
ambuscade sallied out and decided the fortune of the day. His bosom
swelled with exultation, as he rode over the ground made memorable by
the most brilliant victory achieved by his father,--a victory which
opened the way to the implacable hatred of his vanquished rival, and to
oceans of blood.

From Pavia he passed on to Milan, the flourishing capital of
Lombardy,--the fairest portion of the Spanish dominions in Italy. Milan
was, at that time, second only to Naples in population. It was second to
no city in the elegance of its buildings, the splendor of its
aristocracy, the opulence and mechanical ingenuity of its burghers. It
was renowned, at the same time, for its delicate fabrics of silk, and
its armor, curiously wrought and inlaid with gold and silver. In all the
arts of luxury and material civilization, it was unsurpassed by any of
the capitals of Christendom.

As the prince approached the suburbs, a countless throng of people came
forth to greet him. For fifteen miles before he entered the city, the
road was spanned by triumphal arches, garlanded with flowers and fruits,
and bearing inscriptions, both in Latin and Italian, filled with praises
of the father and prognostics of the future glory of the son. Amidst the
concourse were to be seen the noble ladies of Milan, in gay, fantastic
cars, shining in silk brocade, and with sumptuous caparisons for their
horses. As he drew near the town, two hundred mounted gentlemen came out
to escort him into the place. They were clothed in complete mail of the
fine Milanese workmanship, and were succeeded by fifty pages in gaudy
livery, devoted to especial attendance on the prince's person, during
his residence in Milan.

Philip entered the gates under a canopy of state, with the cardinal of
Trent on his right hand, and Philibert, prince of Piedmont, on his left.
He was received, at the entrance, by the governor of the place, attended
by the members of the senate, in their robes of office. The houses which
lined the long street through which the procession passed were hung with
tapestries, and with paintings of the great Italian masters. The
balconies and verandahs were crowded with spectators, eager to behold
their future sovereign, and rending the air with their acclamations. The
ceremony of reception was closed, in the evening, by a brilliant display
of fireworks,--in which the Milanese excelled,--and by a general
illumination of the city.

[Sidenote: VISIT TO FLANDERS]

Philip's time glided away, during his residence at Milan, in a
succession of banquets, _fêtes_, and spectacles of every description
which the taste and ingenuity of the people could devise for the
amusement of their illustrious guest. With none was he more pleased than
with the theatrical entertainments, conducted with greater elegance and
refinement in Italy than in any of the countries beyond the Alps. Nor
was he always a passive spectator at these festivities. He was
especially fond of dancing, in which his light and agile figure fitted
him to excel. In the society of ladies he lost much of his habitual
reserve; and the dignified courtesy of his manners seems to have made a
favorable impression on the fair dames of Italy, who were probably not
less pleased by the display of his munificence. To the governor's wife,
who had entertained him at a splendid ball, he presented a diamond ring
worth five thousand ducats; and to her daughter he gave a necklace of
rubies worth three thousand. Similar presents, of less value, he
bestowed on others of the court, extending his liberality even to the
musicians and inferior persons who had contributed to his entertainment.
To the churches he gave still more substantial proofs of his generosity.
In short, he showed, on all occasions, a munificent spirit worthy of his
royal station.

He took some pains, moreover, to reciprocate the civilities he had
received, by entertaining his hosts in return. He was particularly
fortunate in exhibiting to them a curious spectacle, which, even with
this pleasure-loving people, had the rare merit of novelty. This was the
graceful tourney introduced into Castile from the Spanish Arabs. The
highest nobles in his suite took the lead in it. The cavaliers were
arranged in six quadrilles, or factions, each wearing its distinctive
livery and badges, with their heads protected by shawls, or turbans,
wreathed around them in the Moorish fashion. They were mounted _à la
gineta_, that is, on the light jennet of Andalusia,--a cross of the
Arabian. In their hands they brandished their slender lances, with long
streamers attached to them, of some gay color, that denoted the
particular faction of the cavalier. Thus lightly equipped and mounted,
the Spanish knights went through the delicate manoeuvres of the Moorish
tilt of reeds, showing an easy horsemanship, and performing feats of
agility and grace, which delighted the Italians, keenly alive to the
beautiful, but hitherto accustomed only to the more ponderous and clumsy
exercises of the European tourney.[27]

After some weeks, Prince Philip quitted the hospitable walls of Milan,
and set out for the north. Before leaving the place, he was joined by a
body of two hundred mounted arquebusiers, wearing his own yellow
uniform, and commanded by the duke of Arschot. They had been sent to him
as an escort by his father. He crossed the Tyrol, then took the road by
the way of Munich, Trent, and Heidelberg, and so on towards Flanders. On
all the route, the royal party was beset by multitudes of both sexes,
pressing to catch a glimpse of the young prince who was one day to sway
the mightiest sceptre in Europe. The magistrates of the cities through
which he passed welcomed him with complimentary addresses, and with
presents, frequently in the form of silver urns, or goblets, filled with
golden ducats. Philip received the donatives with a gracious
condescension; and, in truth, they did not come amiss in this season of
lavish expenditure. To the addresses, the duke of Alva, who rode by the
prince's side, usually responded. The whole of the long journey was
performed on horseback,--the only sure mode of conveyance in a country
where the roads were seldom practicable for carriages.

At length, after a journey of four months, the royal cavalcade drew
near the city of Brussels. Their approach to a great town was intimated
by the crowds who came to welcome them; and Philip was greeted with a
tumultuous enthusiasm, which made him feel that he was now indeed in the
midst of his own people. The throng was soon swelled by bodies of the
military; and with this loyal escort, amidst the roar of artillery and
the ringing of bells, which sent forth a merry peal from every tower and
steeple, Philip made his first entrance into the capital of Belgium.

The Regent Mary held her court there, and her brother, the emperor, was
occupying the palace with her. It was not long before the father had
again the satisfaction of embracing his son, from whom he had been
separated so many years. He must have been pleased with the alteration
which time had wrought in Philip's appearance. He was now twenty-one
years of age, and was distinguished by a comeliness of person, remarked
upon by more than one who had access to his presence. Their report is
confirmed by the portraits of him from the pencil of Titian,--taken
before the freshness of youth had faded into the sallow hue of disease,
and when care and anxiety had not yet given a sombre, perhaps sullen,
expression, to his features.

He had a fair, and even delicate complexion. His hair and beard were of
a light yellow. His eyes were blue, with the eyebrows somewhat too
closely knit together. His nose was thin and aquiline. The principal
blemish in his countenance was his thick Austrian lip. His lower jaw
protruded even more than that of his father. To his father, indeed, he
bore a great resemblance in his lineaments, though those of Philip were
of a less intellectual cast. In stature he was somewhat below the middle
height, with a slight, symmetrical figure and well-made limbs. He was
attentive to his dress, which was rich and elegant, but without any
affectation of ornament. His demeanor was grave with that ceremonious
observance which marked the old Castilian, and which may be thought the
natural expression of Philip's slow and phlegmatic temperament.[28]

During his long residence in Brussels, Charles had the opportunity of
superintending his son's education in one department in which it was
deficient,--the science of government. And, surely, no instructor could
have been found with larger experience than the man who had been at the
head of all the great political movements in Europe for the last quarter
of a century. Philip passed some time, every day, in his father's
cabinet, conversing with him on public affairs, or attending the
sessions of the council of state. It can hardly be doubted that Charles,
in his private instruction, inculcated on his son two principles so
prominent throughout Philip's administration,--to maintain the royal
authority in its full extent, and to enforce a strict conformity to the
Roman Catholic Communion. It is probable that he found his son an apt
and docile scholar. Philip acquired, at least, such habits of patient
application, and of watching over the execution of his own plans, as
have been possessed by few princes.[29]

[Sidenote: PUBLIC FESTIVITIES.]

The great object of Philip's visit to the Low Countries had been, to
present himself to the people of the different provinces, to study their
peculiar characters on their own soil, and obtain their recognition as
their future sovereign. After a long residence at Brussels, he set out
on a tour through the provinces. He was accompanied by the queen-regent,
and by the same splendid retinue as on his entrance into the country,
with the addition of a large number of the nobles.

The Netherlands had ever been treated by Charles with particular favor,
and, under his royal patronage, although the country did not develop its
resources as under its own free institutions of a later period, it had
greatly prospered. It was more thickly studded with trading towns than
any country of similar extent in Europe; and its flourishing communities
held the first rank in wealth, industry, and commercial enterprise, as
well as in the splendid way of living maintained by the aristocracy. On
the present occasion, these communities vied with one another in their
loyal demonstrations towards the prince, and in the splendor of the
reception which they gave him. A work was compiled by one of the royal
suite, setting forth the manifold honors paid to Philip through the
whole of the tour, which, even more than his former journey, had the
aspect of a triumphal progress. The book grew, under the hands of its
patriotic author, to the size of a bulky folio, which, however
interesting to his contemporaries, would have but slender attraction for
the present generation.[30] The mere inscriptions emblazoned on the
triumphal arches, and on the public buildings, spread over a multitude
of pages. They were both in Latin and in the language of the country,
and they augured the happy days in store for the nation, when, under the
benignant sceptre of Philip, it should enjoy the sweets of tranquillity
and freedom. Happy auguries! which showed that the prophet was not
gifted with the spirit of prophecy.[31]

In these solemnities, Antwerp alone expended fifty thousand pistoles.
But no place compared with Brussels in the costliness and splendor of
its festivities, the most remarkable of which was a tournament. Under
their Burgundian princes the Flemings had been familiar with these
chivalrous pageants. The age of chivalry was, indeed, fast fading away
before the use of gunpowder and other improvements in military science.
But it was admitted that no tourney had been maintained with so much
magnificence and knightly prowess since the days of Charles the Bold.
The old chronicler's narrative of the event, like the pages of
Froissart, seems instinct with the spirit of a feudal age. I will give a
few details, at the hazard of appearing trivial to those who may think
we have dwelt long enough on the pageants of the courts of Castile and
Burgundy. But such pageants form part of the natural accompaniment of a
picturesque age, and the illustrations they afford of the manners of the
time may have an interest for the student of history.

The tourney was held in a spacious square, inclosed for the purpose, in
front of the great palace of Brussels. Four knights were prepared to
maintain the field against all comers, and jewels of price were to be
awarded as the prize of the victors. The four challengers were Count
Mansfeldt, Count Hoorne, Count Aremberg, and the Sieur de Hubermont;
among the judges was the duke of Alva; and in the list of the successful
antagonists we find the names of Prince Philip of Spain, Emanuel
Philibert, duke of Savoy, and Count Egmont. These are names famous in
history. It is curious to observe how the men who were soon to be at a
deadly feud with one another were thus sportively met to celebrate the
pastimes of chivalry.

The day was an auspicious one, and the lists were crowded with the
burghers of Brussels, and the people of the surrounding country. The
galleries which encompassed the area were graced with the rank and
beauty of the capital. A canopy, embroidered with the imperial arms in
crimson and gold, indicated the place occupied by Charles the Fifth and
his sisters, the regent of the Netherlands, and the dowager queen of
France.

For several hours the field was gallantly maintained by the four
challengers against every knight who was ambitious to prove his prowess
in the presence of so illustrious an assembly. At length the trumpets
sounded, and announced the entrance of four cavaliers, whose brilliant
train of followers intimated them to be persons of high degree. The four
knights were Prince Philip, the duke of Savoy, Count Egmont, and Juan
Manriquez de Lara, major-domo of the emperor. They were clothed in
complete mail, over which they wore surcoats of violet-colored velvet,
while the caparisons of their horses were of cloth of gold.

Philip ran the first course. His antagonist was the Count Mansfeldt, a
Flemish captain of great renown. At the appointed signal, the two
knights spurred against each other, and met in the centre of the lists
with a shock that shivered their lances to the very grasp. Both knights
reeled in their saddles, but neither lost his seat. The arena resounded
with the plaudits of the spectators, not the less hearty that one of the
combatants was the heir apparent.

The other cavaliers then tilted, with various success. A general
tournament followed, in which every knight eager to break a lance on
this fair occasion took part; and many a feat of arms was performed,
doubtless long remembered by the citizens of Brussels. At the end of the
seventh hour a flourish of trumpets announced the conclusion of the
contest, and the assembly broke up in admirable order, the knights
retiring to change their heavy panoplies for the lighter vestments of
the ball-room. A banquet was prepared by the municipality, in a style of
magnificence worthy of their royal guests. The emperor and his sisters
honored it with their presence, and witnessed the distribution of the
prizes. Among these, a brilliant ruby, the prize awarded for the _lança
de las damas_,--the "ladies' lance," in the language of chivalry,--was
assigned by the loyal judges to Prince Philip of Spain.

Dancing succeeded to the banquet; and the high-bred courtesy of the
prince was as much commended in the ball-room as his prowess had been in
the lists. Maskers mingled with the dancers in Oriental costume, some in
the Turkish, others in the Albanian fashion. The merry revels were not
prolonged beyond the hour of midnight, when the company broke up, loudly
commending, as they withdrew, the good cheer afforded them by the
hospitable burghers of Brussels.[32]

[Sidenote: PUBLIC FESTIVITIES.]

Philip won the prize on another occasion, when he tilted against a
valiant knight, named Quiñones. He was not so fortunate in an encounter
with the son of his old preceptor, Zuñiga, in which he was struck with
such force on the head, that, after being carried some distance by his
horse, he fell senseless from the saddle. The alarm was great, but the
accident passed away without serious consequences.[33]

There were those who denied him skill in the management of his lance.
Marillac, the French ambassador at the imperial court, speaking of a
tourney given by Philip in honor of the princess of Lorraine, at
Augsburg, says he never saw worse lance-playing in his life. At another
time he remarks, that the Spanish prince could not even hit his
antagonist.[34] It must have been a very palpable hit to be noticed by a
Frenchman. The French regarded the Spaniards of that day in much the
same manner as they regarded the English at an earlier period, or as
they have continued to regard them at a later. The long rivalry of the
French and Spanish monarchs had infused into the breasts of their
subjects such feelings of mutual aversion, that the opinions of either
nation in reference to the other, in the sixteenth century, must be
received with the greatest distrust.

But, whatever may have been Philip's success in these chivalrous
displays, it is quite certain they were not to his taste. He took part
in them only to conform to his father's wishes, and to the humor of the
age. Though in his youth he sometimes hunted, he was neither fond of
field-sports nor of the athletic exercises of chivalry. His constitution
was far from robust. He sought to invigorate it less by exercise than by
diet. He confined himself almost wholly to meat, as the most nutritious
food, abstaining even from fish; as well as from fruit.[35] Besides his
indisposition to active exercises, he had no relish for the gaudy
spectacles so fashionable in that romantic age. The part he had played
in the pageants, during his long tour, had not been of his own seeking.
Though ceremonious, and exacting deference from all who approached him,
he was not fond of the pomp and parade of a court life. He preferred to
pass his hours in the privacy of his own apartment, where he took
pleasure in the conversation of a few whom he honored with his regard.
It was with difficulty that the emperor could induce him to leave his
retirement and present himself in the audience-chamber, or accompany him
on visits of ceremony.[36]

These reserved and quiet tastes of Philip by no means recommended him to
the Flemings, accustomed as they were to the pomp and profuse
magnificence of the Burgundian court. Their free and social tempers were
chilled by his austere demeanor. They contrasted it with the affable
deportment of his father, who could so well conform to the customs of
the different nations under his sceptre, and who seemed perfectly to
comprehend their characters,--the astute policy of the Italian, the
home-bred simplicity of the German, and the Castilian propriety and
point of honor.[37] With the latter only of these had Philip anything in
common. He was in everything a Spaniard. He talked of nothing, seemed to
think of nothing, but Spain.[38] The Netherlands were to him a foreign
land, with which he had little sympathy. His counsellors and companions
were wholly Spanish. The people of Flanders felt, that, under his sway,
little favor was to be shown to them; and they looked forward to the
time when all the offices of trust in their own country would be given
to Castilians, in the same manner as those of Castile, in the early days
of Charles the Fifth, had been given to Flemings.[39]

Yet the emperor seemed so little aware of his son's unpopularity, that
he was at this very time making arrangements for securing to him the
imperial crown. He had summoned a meeting of the electors and great
lords of the empire, to be held at Augsburg, in August, 1550. There he
proposed to secure Philip's election as king of the Romans, so soon as
he had obtained his brother Ferdinand's surrender of that dignity. But
Charles did not show, in all this, his usual knowledge of human nature.
The lust of power on his son's account--ineffectual for happiness as he
had found the possession of it in his own case--seems to have entirely
blinded him.

He repaired with Philip to Augsburg, where they were met by Ferdinand
and the members of the German diet. But it was in vain that Charles
solicited his brother to waive his claim to the imperial succession in
favor of his nephew. Neither solicitations nor arguments, backed by the
entreaties, even the tears, it is said, of their common sister, the
Regent Mary, could move Ferdinand to forego the splendid inheritance.
Charles was not more successful when he changed his ground, and urged
his brother to acquiesce in Philip's election as his successor in the
dignity of king of the Romans; or, at least, in his being associated in
that dignity--a thing unprecedented--with his cousin Maximilian,
Ferdinand's son, who, it was understood, was destined by the electors to
succeed his father.

This young prince, who meanwhile had been summoned to Augsburg, was as
little disposed as Ferdinand had been to accede to the proposals of his
too grasping father-in-law; though he courteously alleged, as the ground
of his refusal, that he had no right to interfere with the decision of
the electors. He might safely rest his cause on their decision. They had
no desire to perpetuate the imperial sceptre in the line of Castilian
monarchs. They had suffered enough from the despotic temper of Charles
the Fifth; and this temper they had no reason to think would be
mitigated in the person of Philip.

[Sidenote: AMBITIOUS SCHEMES.]

They desired a German to rule over them,--one who would understand the
German character, and enter heartily into the feelings of the people.
Maximilian's directness of purpose and kindly nature had won largely on
the affections of his countrymen, and proved him, in their judgment,
worthy of the throne.[40]

Philip, on the other hand, was even more distasteful to the Germans than
he was to the Flemings. It was in vain that, at their banquets, he drank
twice or thrice as much as he was accustomed to do, until the cardinal
of Trent assured him that he was fast gaining in the good graces of the
people.[41] The natural haughtiness of his temper showed itself on too
many occasions to be mistaken. When Charles returned to his palace,
escorted, as he usually was, by a train of nobles and princes of the
empire, he would courteously take them by the hand, and raise his hat,
as he parted from them. But Philip, it was observed, on like occasions,
walked directly into the palace, without so much as turning round, or
condescending in any way to notice the courtiers who had accompanied
him. This was taking higher ground even than his father had done. In
fact, it was said of him, that he considered himself greater than his
father, inasmuch as the son of an emperor was greater than the son of a
king![42]--a foolish vaunt, not the less indicative of his character,
that it was made for him, probably, by the Germans. In short, Philip's
manners, which, in the language of a contemporary, had been little
pleasing to the Italians, and positively displeasing to the Flemings,
were altogether odious to the Germans.[43]

Nor was the idea of Philip's election at all more acceptable to the
Spaniards themselves. That nation had been long enough regarded as an
appendage to the empire. Their pride had been wounded by the light in
which they were held by Charles, who seemed to look on Spain as a royal
domain, valuable chiefly for the means it afforded him for playing his
part on the great theatre of Europe. The haughty Castilian of the
sixteenth century, conscious of his superior pretensions, could ill
brook this abasement. He sighed for a prince born and bred in Spain, who
would be content to pass his life in Spain, and would have no ambition
unconnected with her prosperity and glory. The Spaniards were even more
tenacious on this head than the Germans. Their remote situation made
them more exclusive, mere strictly national, and less tolerant of
foreign influence. They required a Spaniard to rule over them. Such was
Philip; and they anticipated the hour when Spain should be divorced from
the empire, and, under the sway of a patriotic prince, rise to her just
preëminence among the nations.

Yet Charles, far from yielding, continued to press the point with such
pertinacity, that it seemed likely to lead to an open rupture between
the different branches of his family. For a time Ferdinand kept his
apartment, and had no intercourse with Charles or his sister.[44] Yet in
the end the genius or the obstinacy of Charles so far prevailed over
his brother, that he acquiesced in a private compact, by which, while he
was to retain possession of the imperial crown, it was agreed that
Philip should succeed him as king of the Romans, and that Maximilian
should succeed Philip.[45] Ferdinand hazarded little by concessions
which could never be sanctioned by the electoral college. The reverses
which befell the emperor's arms in the course of the following year
destroyed whatever influence he might have possessed in that body; and
he seems never to have revived his schemes for aggrandizing his son by
securing to him the succession to the empire.

Philip had now accomplished the great object of his visit. He had
presented himself to the people of the Netherlands, and had received
their homage as heir to the realm. His tour had been, in some respects,
a profitable one. It was scarcely possible that a young man, whose days
had hitherto been passed within the narrow limits of his own country,
for ever under the same local influences, should not have his ideas
greatly enlarged by going abroad and mingling with different nations. It
was especially important to Philip to make himself familiar, as none but
a resident can be, with the character and institutions of those nations
over whom he was one day to preside. Yet his visit to the Netherlands
had not been attended with the happiest results. He evidently did not
make a favorable impression on the people. The more they saw of him, the
less they appeared to like him. Such impressions are usually reciprocal;
and Philip seems to have parted from the country with little regret.
Thus, in the first interview between the future sovereign and his
subjects, the symptoms might already be discerned of that alienation
which was afterwards to widen into a permanent and irreparable breach.

Philip, anxious to reach Castile, pushed forward his journey, without
halting to receive the civilities that were everywhere tendered to him
on his route. He made one exception at Trent, where the ecclesiastical
council was holding the memorable session that occupies so large a share
in Church annals. On his approach to the city, the cardinal legate,
attended by the mitred prelates and other dignitaries of the council,
came out in a body to receive him. During his stay there, he was
entertained with masks, dancing, theatrical exhibitions, and jousts,
contrived to represent scenes in Ariosto.[46] These diversions of the
reverend fathers formed a whimsical contrast, perhaps a welcome relief,
to their solemn occupation of digesting a creed for the Christian world.

[Sidenote: CONDITION OF SPAIN.]

From Trent Philip pursued his way, with all expedition, to Genoa, where
he embarked, under the flag of the veteran Doria, who had brought him
from Spain. He landed at Barcelona, on the twelfth day of July, 1551,
and proceeded at once to Valladolid, where he resumed the government of
the kingdom. He was fortified by a letter from his father, dated at
Augsburg, which contained ample instructions as to the policy he was to
pursue, and freely discussed both the foreign and domestic relations of
the country. The letter, which is very long, shows that the capacious
mind of Charles, however little time he could personally give to the
affairs of the monarchy, fully comprehended its internal condition and
the extent of its resources.[47]

The following years were years of humiliation to Charles; years marked
by the flight from Innsbruck, and the disastrous siege of Metz,--when,
beaten by the Protestants, foiled by the French, the reverses of the
emperor pressed heavily on his proud heart, and did more, probably, than
all the homilies of his ghostly teachers, to disgust him with the world
and its vanities.

Yet these reverses made little impression on Spain. The sounds of war
died away before they reached the foot of the Pyrenees. Spain, it is
true, sent forth her sons, from time to time, to serve under the banners
of Charles; and it was in that school that was perfected the admirable
system of discipline and tactics which, begun by the Great Captain, made
the Spanish infantry the most redoubtable in Europe. But the great body
of the people felt little interest in the success of these distant
enterprises, where success brought them no good. Not that the mind of
Spain was inactive, or oppressed with the lethargy which stole over it
in a later age. There was, on the contrary, great intellectual activity.
She was excluded, by an arbitrary government, from pushing her
speculations in the regions of theological or political science. But
this, to a considerable extent, was the case with most of the
neighboring nations; and she indemnified herself for this exclusion by a
more diligent cultivation of elegant literature. The constellation of
genius had already begun to show itself above the horizon, which was to
shed a glory over the meridian and the close of Philip's reign. The
courtly poets in the reign of his father had confessed the influence of
Italian models, derived through the recent territorial acquisitions in
Italy. But the national taste was again asserting its supremacy; and the
fashionable tone of composition was becoming more and more accommodated
to the old Castilian standard.

It would be impossible that any departure from a national standard
should be long tolerated in Spain, where the language, the manners, the
dress, the usages of the country, were much the same as they had been
for generations,--as they continued to be for generations, long after
Cervantes held up the mirror of fiction, to reflect the traits of the
national existence more vividly than is permitted to the page of the
chronicler. In the rude _romances_ of the fourteenth and the fifteenth
century, the Castilian of the sixteenth might see his way of life
depicted with tolerable accuracy. The amorous cavalier still thrummed
his guitar, by moonlight, under the balcony of his mistress, or wore her
favors at the Moorish tilt of reeds. The common people still sung their
lively _seguidillas_, or crowded to the _fiestas de toros_,--the cruel
bull-fights,--or to the more cruel _autos da fé_. This last spectacle,
of comparatively recent origin,--in the time of Ferdinand and
Isabella,--was the legitimate consequence of the long wars with the
Moslems, which made the Spaniard intolerant of religious infidelity.
Atrocious as it seems in a more humane and enlightened age, it was
regarded by the ancient Spaniard as a sacrifice grateful to Heaven, at
which he was to rekindle the dormant embers of his own religious
sensibilities.

The cessation of the long Moorish wars by the fall of Granada, made the
most important change in the condition of the Spaniards. They, however,
found a vent for their chivalrous fanaticism, in a crusade against the
heathen of the New World. Those who returned from their wanderings
brought back to Spain little of foreign usages and manners; for the
Spaniard was the only civilized man whom they found in the wilds of
America.

Thus passed the domestic life of the Spaniard, in the same unvaried
circle of habits, opinions, and prejudices, to the exclusion, and
probably contempt of everything foreign. Not that these habits did not
differ in the different provinces, where their distinctive peculiarities
were handed down, with traditional precision, from father to son. But,
beneath these, there was one common basis of the national character.
Never was there a people, probably, with the exception of the Jews,
distinguished by so intense a nationality. It was among such a people,
and under such influences, that Philip was born and educated. His
temperament and his constitution of mind peculiarly fitted him for the
reception of these influences; and the Spaniards, as he grew in years,
beheld, with pride and satisfaction, in their future sovereign, the most
perfect type of the national character.




CHAPTER III.

ENGLISH ALLIANCE.

Condition of England.--Character of Mary.--Philip's Proposals of
Marriage.--Marriage Articles.--Insurrection in England.

1553, 1554.


In the summer of 1553, three years after Philip's return to Spain,
occurred an event which was to exercise a considerable influence on his
fortunes. This was the death of Edward the Sixth of England,--after a
brief but important reign. He was succeeded by his sister Mary, that
unfortunate princess, whose _sobriquet_ of "Bloody" gives her a
melancholy distinction among the sovereigns of the house of Tudor.

The reign of her father, Henry the Eighth, had opened the way to the
great revolution in religion, the effects of which were destined to be
permanent. Yet Henry himself showed his strength rather in unsettling
ancient institutions than in establishing new ones. By the abolition of
the monasteries, he broke up that spiritual militia which was a most
efficacious instrument for maintaining the authority of Rome; and he
completed the work of independence by seating himself boldly in the
chair of St. Peter, and assuming the authority of head of the Church.
Thus, while the supremacy of the pope was rejected, the Roman Catholic
religion was maintained in its essential principles unimpaired. In other
words, the nation remained Catholics, but not Papists.

[Sidenote: CONDITION OF ENGLAND.]

The impulse thus given under Henry was followed up to more important
consequences under his son, Edward the Sixth. The opinions of the German
Reformers, considerably modified, especially in regard to the exterior
forms and discipline of worship, met with a cordial welcome from the
ministers of the young monarch. Protestantism became the religion of the
land; and the Church of England received, to a great extent, the
peculiar organization which it has preserved to the present day. But
Edward's reign was too brief to allow the new opinions to take deep root
in the hearts of the people. The greater part of the aristocracy soon
showed that, whatever religious zeal they had affected, they were not
prepared to make any sacrifice of their temporal interests. On the
accession of a Catholic queen to the throne, a reaction soon became
visible. Some embarrassment to a return to the former faith was found in
the restitution which it might naturally involve of the confiscated
property of the monastic orders. But the politic concessions of Rome
dispensed with this severe trial of the sincerity of its new proselytes;
and England, after repudiating her heresies, was received into the fold
of the Roman Catholic Church, and placed once more under the
jurisdiction of its pontiff.

After the specimens given of the ready ductility with which the English
of that day accommodated their religious creeds to the creed of their
sovereign, we shall hardly wonder at the caustic criticism of the
Venetian ambassador, resident at the court of London, in Queen Mary's
time. "The example and authority of the sovereign," he says, "are
everything with the people of this country in matters of faith. As he
believes, they believe; Judaism or Mahometanism,--it is all one to them.
They conform themselves easily to his will, at least so far as the
outward show is concerned; and most easily of all where it concurs with
their own pleasure and profit."[48]

The ambassador, Giovanni Micheli, was one of that order of
merchant-princes employed by Venice in her foreign missions; men whose
acquaintance with affairs enabled them to comprehend the resources of
the country to which they were sent, as well as the intrigues of its
court. Their observations were digested into elaborate reports, which,
on their return to Venice, were publicly read before the doge and the
senate. The documents thus prepared form some of the most valuable and
authentic materials for the history of Europe in the sixteenth century.
Micheli's report is diffuse on the condition of England under the reign
of Queen Mary; and some of his remarks will have interest for the reader
of the present day, as affording a standard of comparison with the
past.[49]

London he eulogizes, as one of the noblest capitals in Europe,
containing, with its suburbs, about a hundred and eighty thousand
souls.[50] The great lords, as in France and Germany, passed most of
their time on their estates in the country.

The kingdom was strong enough, if united, to defy any invasion from
abroad. Yet its navy was small, having dwindled, from neglect and an
ill-judged economy, to not more than forty vessels of war. But the
mercantile marine could furnish two thousand more, which, at a short
notice, could be well equipped and got ready for sea. The army was
particularly strong in artillery, and provided with all the munitions of
war. The weapon chiefly in repute was the bow, to which the English
people were trained from early youth. In their cavalry they were most
defective. Horses were abundant, but wanted bottom. They were, for the
most part, light, weak, and grass-fed.[51] The nation was, above all, to
be envied for the lightness of the public burdens. There were no taxes
on wine, beer, salt, cloth, nor, indeed, on any of the articles that in
other countries furnished the greatest sources of revenue.[52] The whole
revenue did not usually exceed two hundred thousand pounds. Parliaments
were rarely summoned, except to save the king trouble or to afford a
cloak to his designs. No one ventured to resist the royal will; servile
the members came there, and servile they remained.[53]--An Englishman of
the nineteenth century may smile at the contrast presented by some of
these remarks to the condition of the nation at the present day; though
in the item of taxation the contrast may be rather fitted to provoke a
sigh.

The portrait of Queen Mary is given by the Venetian minister, with a
coloring somewhat different from that in which she is commonly depicted
by English historians. She was about thirty-six years of age at the time
of her accession. In stature, she was of rather less than the middle
size,--not large, as was the case with both her father and mother,--and
exceedingly well made. "The portraits of her," says Micheli, "show that
in her youth she must have been not only good-looking, but even
handsome;--though her countenance, when he saw her, exhibited traces of
early trouble and disease."[54] But whatever she had lost in personal
attractions was fully made up by those of the mind. She was quick of
apprehension, and, like her younger sister, Elizabeth, was mistress of
several languages, three of which, the French, Spanish, and Latin, she
could speak; the last with fluency.[55] But in these accomplishments she
was surpassed by her sister, who knew the Greek well, and could speak
Italian with ease and elegance. Mary, however, both spoke and wrote her
own language in a plain, straightforward manner, that forms a contrast
to the ambiguous phrase and cold conceits in which Elizabeth usually
conveyed, or rather concealed, her sentiments.

[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF MARY.]

Mary had the misfortune to labour under a chronic infirmity, which
confined her for weeks, and indeed months, of every year to her chamber,
and which, with her domestic troubles, gave her an air of melancholy,
that in later years settled into a repulsive austerity. The tones of her
voice were masculine, says the Venetian, and her eyes inspired a
feeling, not merely of reverence, but of fear, wherever she turned them.
Her spirit he adds, was lofty and magnanimous, never discomposed by
danger, showing in all things a blood truly royal.[56]

Her piety, he continues, and her patience under affliction, cannot be
too greatly admired. Sustained, as she was, by a lively faith and
conscious innocence, he compares her to a light which the fierce winds
have no power to extinguish, but which still shines on with increasing
lustre.[57] She waited her time, and was plainly reserved by Providence
for a great destiny.--We are reading the language of the loyal Catholic,
grateful for the services which Mary had rendered to the faith.

Yet it would be uncharitable not to believe that Mary was devout, and
most earnest in her devotion. The daughter of Katharine of Aragon, the
granddaughter of Isabella of Castile, could hardly have been otherwise.
The women of that royal line were uniformly conspicuous for their piety,
though this was too often tinctured with bigotry. In Mary, bigotry
degenerated into fanaticism, and fanaticism into the spirit of
persecution. The worst evils are probably those that have flowed from
fanaticism. Yet the amount of the mischief does not necessarily furnish
us with the measure of guilt in the author of it. The introduction of
the Inquisition into Spain must be mainly charged on Isabella. Yet the
student of her reign will not refuse to this great queen the praise of
tenderness of conscience and a sincere desire to do the right.
Unhappily, the faith in which she, as well as her royal granddaughter,
was nurtured, taught her to place her conscience in the keeping of
ministers less scrupulous than herself; and on those ministers may
fairly rest much of the responsibility of measures on which they only
were deemed competent to determine.

Mary's sincerity in her religious professions was placed beyond a doubt
by the readiness with which she submitted to the sacrifice of her
personal interests whenever the interests of religion seemed to demand
it. She burned her translation of a portion of Erasmus, prepared with
great labor, at the suggestion of her confessor. An author will readily
estimate the value of such a sacrifice. One more important, and
intelligible to all, was the resolute manner in which she persisted in
restoring the Church property which had been confiscated to the use of
the crown. "The crown is too much impoverished to admit of it,"
remonstrated her ministers. "I would rather lose ten crowns," replied
the high-minded queen, "than place my soul in peril."[58]

Yet it cannot be denied, that Mary had inherited, in full measure, some
of the sterner qualities of her father, and that she was wanting in that
sympathy for human suffering which is so graceful in a woman. After a
rebellion, the reprisals were terrible. London was converted into a
charnel-house; and the squares and principal streets were garnished with
the unsightly trophies of the heads and limbs of numerous victims who
had fallen by the hand of the executioner.[59] This was in accordance
with the spirit of the age. But the execution of the unfortunate Lady
Jane Grey--the young, the beautiful, and the good--leaves a blot on the
fame of Mary, which finds no parallel but in the treatment of the
ill-fated queen of Scots by Elizabeth.

Mary's treatment of Elizabeth has formed another subject of reproach,
though the grounds of it are not sufficiently made out; and, at all
events, many circumstances may be alleged in extenuation of her conduct.
She had seen her mother, the noble-minded Katharine, exposed to the most
cruel indignities, and compelled to surrender her bed and her throne to
an artful rival, the mother of Elizabeth. She had heard herself declared
illegitimate, and her right to the succession set aside in favor of her
younger sister. Even after her intrepid conduct had secured to her the
crown, she was still haunted by the same gloomy apparition. Elizabeth's
pretensions were constantly brought before the public; and Mary might
well be alarmed by the disclosure of conspiracy after conspiracy, the
object of which, it was rumored, was to seat her sister on the throne.
As she advanced in years, Mary had the further mortification of seeing
her rival gain on those affections of the people which had grown cool to
her. Was it wonderful that she should regard her sister, under these
circumstances, with feelings of distrust and aversion? That she did so
regard her is asserted by the Venetian minister; and it is plain that,
during the first years of Mary's reign, Elizabeth's life hung upon a
thread. Yet Mary had strength of principle sufficient to resist the
importunities of Charles the Fifth and his ambassador, to take the life
of Elizabeth, as a thing indispensable to her own safety and that of
Philip. Although her sister was shown to be privy, though not openly
accessory, to the grand rebellion under Wyatt, Mary would not constrain
the law from its course to do her violence. This was something, under
the existing circumstances, in an age so unscrupulous. After this storm
had passed over, Mary, whatever restraint she imposed on her real
feelings, treated Elizabeth, for the most part, with a show of kindness,
though her name still continued to be mingled, whether with or without
cause, with more than one treasonable plot.[60] Mary's last act--perhaps
the only one in which she openly resisted the will of her husband--was
to refuse to compel her sister to accept the hand of Philibert of Savoy.
Yet this act would have relieved her of the presence of her rival; and
by it Elizabeth would have forfeited her independent possession of the
crown,--perhaps the possession of it altogether. It may be doubted
whether Elizabeth, under similar circumstances, would have shown the
like tenderness to the interests of her successor.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S PROPOSALS OF MARRIAGE.]

But, however we may be disposed to extenuate the conduct of Mary, and in
spiritual matters, more especially, to transfer the responsibility of
her acts from herself to her advisers, it is not possible to dwell on
this reign of religious persecution without feelings of profound
sadness. Not that the number of victims compares with what is recorded
of many similar periods of persecution. The whole amount, falling
probably short of three hundred who perished at the stake, was less than
the number who fell by the hand of the executioner, or by violence,
during the same length of time under Henry the Eighth. It was not much
greater than might sometimes be found at a single Spanish _auto da fé_.
But Spain was the land in which this might be regarded as the national
spectacle,--as much so as the _fiesta de toros_, or any other of the
popular exhibitions of the country. In England, a few examples had not
sufficed to steel the hearts of men against these horrors. The heroic
company of martyrs, condemned to the most agonizing of deaths for
asserting the rights of conscience, was a sight strange and shocking to
Englishmen. The feelings of that day have been perpetuated to the
present. The reign of religious persecution stands out by itself, as
something distinct from the natural course of events; and the fires of
Smithfield shed a melancholy radiance over this page of the national
history, from which the eye of humanity turns away in pity and
disgust.--But it is time to take up the narrative of events which
connected for a brief space the political interests of Spain with those
of England.

Charles the Fifth had always taken a lively interest in the fortunes of
his royal kinswoman. When a young man he had paid a visit to England,
and while there had been induced by his aunt, Queen Katharine, to
contract a marriage with the Princess Mary,--then only six years
old,--to be solemnized on her arriving at the suitable age. But the term
was too remote for the constancy of Charles, or, as it is said, for the
patience of his subjects, who earnestly wished to see their sovereign
wedded to a princess who might present him with an heir to the monarchy.
The English match was, accordingly, broken off, and the young emperor
gave his hand to Isabella of Portugal.[61]

Mary, who, since her betrothal, had been taught to consider herself as
the future bride of the emperor, was at the time but eleven years old.
She was old enough, however, to feel something like jealousy, it is
said, and to show some pique at this desertion by her imperial lover.
Yet this circumstance did not prevent the most friendly relations from
subsisting between the parties in after years; and Charles continued to
watch over the interests of his kinswoman, and interposed, with good
effect, in her behalf, on more than one occasion, both during the reign
of Henry the Eighth and of his son, Edward the Sixth. On the death of
the latter monarch, he declared himself ready to assist Mary in
maintaining her right to the succession;[62] and, when this was finally
established, the wary emperor took the necessary measures for turning it
to his own account.[63]

He formed a scheme for uniting Philip with Mary, and thus securing to
his son the possession of the English crown, in the same manner as that
of Scotland had been secured by marriage to the son of his rival, Henry
the Second of France. It was, doubtless, a great error to attempt to
bring under one rule nations so dissimilar in every particular, and
having interests so incompatible as the Spaniards and the English.
Historians have regarded it as passing strange, that a prince, who had
had such large experience of the difficulties attending the government
of kingdoms remote from each other, should seek so to multiply these
difficulties on the head of his inexperienced son. But the love of
acquisition is a universal principle; nor is it often found that the
appetite for more is abated by the consideration that the party is
already possessed of more then he can manage.

It was a common opinion, that Mary intended to bestow her hand on her
young and handsome kinsman, Courtenay, earl of Devonshire, whom she had
withdrawn from the prison in which he had languished for many years, and
afterwards treated with distinguished favor. Charles, aware of this,
instructed Renard, his minister at the court of London, a crafty,
intriguing politician,[64] to sound the queen's inclinations on the
subject, but so as not to alarm her. He was to dwell, particularly, on
the advantages Mary would derive from a connection with some powerful
foreign prince, and to offer his master's counsel, in this or any other
matter in which she might desire it. The minister was to approach the
subject of the earl of Devonshire with the greatest caution; remembering
that, if the queen had a fancy for her cousin, and was like other women,
she would not be turned from it by anything that he might say, nor would
she readily forgive any reflection upon it.[65] Charles seems to have
been as well read in the characters of women as of men; and, as a
natural consequence, it may be added, had formed a high estimate of the
capacity of the sex. In proof of which, he not only repeatedly
committed the government of his states to women, but intrusted them
with some of his most delicate political negotiations.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S PROPOSALS OF MARRIAGE.]

Mary, if she had ever entertained the views imputed to her in respect to
Courtenay, must have soon been convinced that his frivolous disposition
would ill suit the seriousness of hers. However this may be, she was
greatly pleased when Renard hinted at her marriage,--"laughing," says
the envoy, "not once, but several times, and giving me a significant
look, which showed that the idea was very agreeable to her, plainly
intimating at the same time that she had no desire to marry an
Englishman."[66] In a subsequent conversation, when Renard ventured to
suggest that the prince of Spain was a suitable match, Mary broke in
upon him, saying that "she had never felt the smart of what people
called love, nor had ever so much as thought of being married, until
Providence had raised her to the throne; and that, if she now consented
to it, it would be in opposition to her own feelings, from a regard to
the public good;" but she begged the envoy to assure the emperor of her
wish to obey and to please him in everything, as she would her own
father; intimating, however, that she could not broach the subject of
her marriage to her council; the question could only be opened by a
communication from him.[67]

Charles, who readily saw through Mary's coquetry, no longer hesitated to
prefer the suit of Philip. After commending the queen's course in regard
to Courtenay, he presented to her the advantages that must arise from
such a foreign alliance as would strengthen her on the throne. He
declared, in a tone of gallantry rather amusing, that, if it were not
for his age and increasing infirmities, he should not hesitate to
propose himself as her suitor.[68] The next best thing was to offer her
the person dearest to his heart,--his son, the prince of Asturias. He
concluded by deprecating the idea that any recommendation of his should
interfere, in the least degree, with the exercise of her better
judgment.[69]

Renard was further to intimate to the queen the importance of secrecy in
regard to this negotiation. If she were disinclined to the proposed
match, it would be obviously of no advantage to give it publicity. If,
on the other hand, as the emperor had little doubt, she looked on it
favorably, but desired to advise with her council before deciding,
Renard was to dissuade her from the latter step, and advise her to
confide in him.[70] The wary emperor had a twofold motive for these
instructions. There was a negotiation on foot at this very time for a
marriage of Philip to the infanta of Portugal, and Charles wished to be
entirely assured of Mary's acquiescence, before giving such publicity to
the affair as might defeat the Portuguese match, which would still
remain for Philip, should he not succeed with the English queen.[71] In
case Mary proved favorable to his son's suit, Charles, who knew the
abhorrence in which foreigners were held by the English beyond all other
nations,[72] wished to gain time before communicating with Mary's
council. With some delay, he had no doubt that he had the means of
winning over a sufficient number of that body to support Philip's
pretensions.[73]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S PROPOSALS OF MARRIAGE.]

These communications could not be carried on so secretly but that some
rumor of them reached the ears of Mary's ministers, and of Noailles, the
French ambassador at the court of London.[74] This person was a busy
and unscrupulous politician, who saw with alarm the prospect of Spain
strengthening herself by this alliance with England, and determined,
accordingly, in obedience to instructions from home, to use every effort
to defeat it. The queen's ministers, with the chancellor, Gardiner,
bishop of Winchester, at their head, felt a similar repugnance to the
Spanish match. The name of the Spaniards had become terrible from the
remorseless manner in which their wars had been conducted during the
present reign, especially in the New World. The ambition and the
widely-extended dominions of Charles the Fifth made him the most
formidable sovereign in Europe. The English looked with apprehension on
so close an alliance with a prince who had shown too little regard for
the liberties of his own land to make it probable that he or his son
would respect those of another. Above all, they dreaded the fanaticism
of the Spaniards; and the gloomy spectre of the Inquisition moving in
their train made even the good Catholic shudder at the thought of the
miseries that might ensue from this ill-omened union.

It was not difficult for Noailles and the chancellor to communicate
their own distrust to the members of the parliament, then in session. A
petition to the queen was voted in the lower house, in which the commons
preferred an humble request that she would marry for the good of the
realm, but besought her, at the same time, not to go abroad for her
husband, but to select him among her own subjects.[75]

Mary's ministers did not understand her character so well as Charles the
Fifth did, when he cautioned his agent not openly to thwart her.
Opposition only fixed her more strongly in her original purpose. In a
private interview with Renard, she told him that she was apprised of
Gardiner's intrigues, and that Noailles, too, was _doing the impossible_
to prevent her union with Philip. "But I will be a match for them," she
added. Soon after, taking the ambassador, at midnight, into her oratory,
she knelt before the host, and, having repeated the hymn _Veni Creator_,
solemnly pledged herself to take no other man for her husband than the
prince of Spain.[76]

This proceeding took place on the thirtieth of October. On the
seventeenth of the month following, the commons waited on the queen at
her palace of Whitehall, to which she was confined by indisposition, and
presented their address. Mary, instead of replying by her chancellor, as
was usual, answered them in person. She told them, that from God she
held her crown, and that to him alone should she turn for counsel in a
matter so important;[77] she had not yet made up her mind to marry; but
since they considered it so necessary for the weal of the kingdom, she
would take it into consideration. It was a matter in which no one was so
much interested as herself. But they might be assured that, in her
choice, she would have regard to the happiness of her people, full as
much as to her own. The commons, who had rarely the courage to withstand
the frown of their Tudor princes, professed themselves contented with
this assurance; and, from this moment, opposition ceased from that
quarter.

Mary's arguments were reinforced by more conciliatory, but not less
efficacious persuasives, in the form of gold crowns, gold chains, and
other compliments of the like nature, which were distributed pretty
liberally by the Spanish ambassador among the members of her
council.[78]

In the following December, a solemn embassy left Brussels, to wait on
Mary and tender her the hand of Philip. It was headed by Lamoral, Count
Egmont, the Flemish noble so distinguished in later years by his
military achievements, and still more by his misfortunes. He was
attended by a number of Flemish lords and a splendid body of retainers.
He landed in Kent, where the rumor went abroad that it was Philip
himself; and so general was the detestation of the Spanish match among
the people, that it might have gone hard with the envoy, had the mistake
not been discovered. Egmont sailed up the Thames, and went ashore at
Tower Wharf, on the second of January, 1554. He was received with all
honor by Lord William Howard and several of the great English nobles,
and escorted in much state to Westminster, where his table was supplied
at the charge of the city. Gardiner entertained the embassy at a
sumptuous banquet; and the next day Egmont and his retinue proceeded to
Hampton Court, "where they had great cheer," says an old chronicler,
"and hunted the deer, and were so greedy of their destruction, that they
gave them not fair play for their lives; for," as he peevishly
complains, "they killed rag and tag, with hands and swords."[79]

On the twelfth, the Flemish count was presented to the queen, and
tendered her proposals of marriage in behalf of Prince Philip. Mary, who
probably thought she had made advances enough, now assumed a more
reserved air. "It was not for a maiden queen," she said, "thus publicly
to enter on so delicate a subject as her own marriage. This would be
better done by her ministers, to whom she would refer him. But this she
would have him understand," she added, as she cast her eyes on the ring
on her finger, "her realm was her first husband, and none other should
induce her to violate the oath which she had pledged at her coronation."

[Sidenote: MARRIAGE ARTICLES.]

Notwithstanding this prudery of Mary, she had already manifested such a
prepossession for her intended lord as to attract the notice of her
courtiers, one of whom refers it to the influence of a portrait of
Philip, of which she had become "greatly enamored."[80] That such a
picture was sent to her appears from a letter of Philip's aunt, the
regent of the Netherlands, in which she tells the English queen that she
has sent her a portrait of the prince, from the pencil of Titian, which
she was to return so soon as she was in possession of the living
original. It had been taken some three years before, she said, and was
esteemed a good likeness, though it would be necessary, as in the case
of other portraits by this master, to look at it from a distance in
order to see the resemblance.[81]

The marriage treaty was drawn up with great circumspection, under the
chancellor's direction. It will be necessary to notice only the most
important provisions. It was stipulated that Philip should respect the
laws of England, and leave every man in the full enjoyment of his rights
and immunities. The power of conferring titles, honors, emoluments, and
offices of every description, was to be reserved to the queen.
Foreigners were to be excluded from office. The issue of the marriage,
if a son, was to succeed to the English crown and to the Spanish
possessions in Burgundy and the Low Countries. But in case of the death
of Don Carlos, Philip's son, the issue of the present marriage was to
receive, in addition to the former inheritance, Spain and her
dependencies. The queen was never to leave her own kingdom without her
express desire. Her children were not to be taken out of it without the
consent of the nobles. In case of Mary's death, Philip was not to claim
the right of taking part in the government of the country. Further it
was provided that Philip should not entangle the nation in his wars with
France, but should strive to maintain the same amicable relations that
now subsisted between the two countries.[82]

Such were the cautious stipulations of this treaty, which had more the
aspect of a treaty for defence against an enemy than a marriage
contract. The instrument was worded with a care that reflected credit on
the sagacity of its framers. All was done that parchment could do to
secure the independence of the crown, as well as the liberties of the
people. "But if the bond be violated," asked one of the parliamentary
speakers on the occasion, "who is there to sue the bond?" Every
reflecting Englishman must have felt the inefficacy of any guaranty that
could be extorted from Philip, who, once united to Mary, would find
little difficulty in persuading a fond and obedient wife to sanction his
own policy, prejudicial though it might be to the true interests of the
kingdom.

No sooner was the marriage treaty made public, than the popular
discontent, before partially disclosed, showed itself openly throughout
the country. Placards were put up, lampoons were written, reviling the
queen's ministers and ridiculing the Spaniards; ominous voices were
heard from old, dilapidated buildings, boding the ruin of the monarchy.
Even the children became infected with the passions of their fathers.
Games were played in which the English were represented contending with
the Spaniards; and in one of these an unlucky urchin, who played the
part of Philip, narrowly escaped with his life from the hands of his
exasperated comrades.[83]

But something more serious than child's play showed itself, in three
several insurrections which broke out in different quarters of the
kingdom. The most formidable of them was the one led by Sir Thomas
Wyatt, son of the celebrated poet of that name. It soon gathered head,
and the number of the insurgents was greatly augmented by the accession
of a considerable body of the royal forces, who deserted their colours,
and joined the very men against whom they had been sent. Thus
strengthened, Wyatt marched on London. All there were filled with
consternation,--all but their intrepid queen, who showed as much
self-possession and indifference to danger as if it were only an
ordinary riot.

Proceeding at once into the city, she met the people at Guildhall, and
made them a spirited address, which has been preserved in the pages of
Holinshed. It concludes in the following bold strain, containing an
allusion to the cause of the difficulties:--"And certainly, if I did
either know or think that this marriage should either turn to the danger
or loss of any of you, my loving subjects, or to the detriment or
impairing of any part or parcel of the royal estate of this realm of
England, I would never consent thereunto, neither would I ever marry
while I lived. And on the word of a queen, I promise and assure you,
that, if it shall not probably appear before the nobility and commons,
in the high court of parliament, that this marriage shall be for the
singular benefit and commodity of all the whole realm, that then I will
abstain, not only from this marriage, but also from any other whereof
peril may ensue to this most noble realm. Wherefore now as good and
faithful subjects pluck up your hearts, and like true men stand fast
with your lawful prince against these rebels, both our enemies and
yours, and fear them not; for I assure you that I fear them nothing at
all!"[84] The courageous spirit of their queen communicated itself to
her audience, and in a few hours twenty thousand citizens enrolled
themselves under the royal banner.

Meanwhile, the rebel force continued its march, and reports soon came
that Wyatt was on the opposite bank of the Thames; then, that he had
crossed the river. Soon his presence was announced by the flight of a
good number of the royalists, among whom was Courtenay, who rode off
before the enemy at a speed that did little credit to his valor. All was
now confusion again. The lords and ladies in attendance gathered round
the queen in Whitehall, as if to seek support from her more masculine
nature. Her ministers went down on their knees, to implore her to seek
refuge in the Tower, as the only place of safety. Mary smiled with
contempt at the pusillanimous proposal, and resolved to remain where she
was, and abide the issue.

It was not long in coming. Wyatt penetrated as far as Ludgate, with
desperate courage, but was not well seconded by his followers. The few
who proved faithful were surrounded and overwhelmed by numbers. Wyatt
was made prisoner, and the whole rebel rout discomfited and dispersed.
By this triumph over her enemies, Mary was seated more strongly than
ever on the throne. Henceforward the Spanish match did not meet with
opposition from the people, any more than from the parliament.

Still the emperor, after this serious demonstration of hostility to his
son, felt a natural disquietude in regard to his personal safety, which
made him desirous of obtaining some positive guaranty before trusting
him among the turbulent islanders. He wrote to his ambassador to require
such security from the government. But no better could be given than the
royal promise that everything should be done to insure the prince's
safety. Renard was much perplexed. He felt the responsibility of his own
position. He declined to pledge himself for the quiet deportment of the
English; but he thought matters had already gone too far to leave it in
the power of Spain to recede.

[Sidenote: MARY'S BETROTHAL.]

He wrote, moreover, both to Charles and to Philip, recommending that the
prince should not bring over with him a larger retinue of Spaniards than
was necessary, and that the wives of his nobles--for he seems to have
regarded the sex as the source of evil--should not accompany them.[85]
Above all, he urged Philip and his followers to lay aside the Castilian
_hauteur_, and to substitute the conciliatory manners which might disarm
the jealousy of the English.[86]




CHAPTER IV.

ENGLISH ALLIANCE.

Mary's Betrothal.--Joanna Regent of Castile.--Philip embarks for
England.--His splendid Reception.--Marriage of Philip and Mary.--Royal
Entertainments.--Philip's Influence.--The Catholic Church
restored.--Philip's Departure.

1554, 1555.


In the month of March, 1554, Count Egmont arrived in England, on a
second embassy, for the purpose of exchanging the ratifications of the
marriage treaty. He came in the same state as before, and was received
by the queen in the presence of her council. The ceremony was conducted
with great solemnity. Mary, kneeling down, called God to witness, that,
in contracting this marriage, she had been influenced by no motive of a
carnal or worldly nature, but by the desire of securing the welfare and
tranquillity of the kingdom. To her kingdom her faith had first been
plighted; and she hoped that Heaven would give her strength to maintain
inviolate the oath she had taken at her coronation.

This she said with so much grace, that the bystanders, says Renard,--who
was one of them,--were all moved to tears. The ratifications were then
exchanged, and the oaths taken, in presence of the host, by the
representatives of Spain and England; when Mary, again kneeling, called
on those present to unite with her in prayer to the Almighty, that he
would enable her faithfully to keep the articles of the treaty, and
would make her marriage a happy one.

Count Egmont then presented to the queen a diamond ring which the
emperor had sent her. Mary, putting it on her finger, showed it to the
company; "and assuredly," exclaims the Spanish minister, "the jewel was
a precious one, and well worthy of admiration." Egmont, before departing
for Spain, inquired of Mary whether she would intrust him with any
message to Prince Philip. The queen replied, that "he might tender to
the prince her most affectionate regards, and assure him that she should
be always ready to vie with him in such offices of kindness as became a
loving and obedient wife." When asked if she would write to him, she
answered, "Not till he had begun the correspondence."[87]

This lets us into the knowledge of a little fact, very significant. Up
to this time Philip had neither written, nor so much as sent a single
token of regard to his mistress. All this had been left to his father.
Charles had arranged the marriage, had wooed the bride, had won over her
principal advisers,--in short, had done all the courtship. Indeed, the
inclinations of Philip, it is said, had taken another direction, and he
would have preferred the hand of his royal kinswoman, Mary of
Portugal.[88] However this may be, it is not probable that he felt any
great satisfaction in the prospect of being united to a woman who was
eleven years older than himself, and whose personal charms, whatever
they might once have been, had long since faded, under the effects of
disease and a constitutional melancholy. But he loved power; and
whatever scruples he might have entertained on his own account were
silenced before the wishes of his father.[89] "Like another Isaac,"
exclaims Sandoval, in admiration of his conduct, "he sacrificed himself
on the altar of filial duty."[90] The same implicit deference which
Philip showed his father in this delicate matter, he afterwards, under
similar circumstances, received from his own son.

[Sidenote: MARY'S BETROTHAL.]

After the marriage articles had been ratified, Philip sent a present of
a magnificent jewel to the English queen, by a Spanish noble of high
rank, the Marquis de las Nayas.[91] The marquis, who crossed from Biscay
with a squadron of four ships, landed at Plymouth, and, as he journeyed
towards London, was met by the young Lord Herbert, son of the earl of
Pembroke, who conducted him, with an escort of four hundred mounted
gentlemen, to his family seat in Wiltshire. "And as they rode together
to Wilton," says Lord Edmund Dudley, one of the party, "there were
certain courses at the hare, which was so pleasant that the marquis much
delighted in finding the course so readily appointed. As for the
marquis's great cheer, as well that night at supper as otherwise at his
breakfast the next day, surely it was so abundant, that it was not a
little marvel to consider that so great a preparation could be made in
so small a warning.... Surely it was not a little comfort to my heart
to see all things so honorably used for the honor and service of the
queen's majesty."[92]

Meanwhile, Philip was making his arrangements for leaving Spain, and
providing a government for the country during his absence. It was
decided by the emperor to intrust the regency to his daughter, the
Princess Joanna. She was eight years younger than Philip. About eighteen
months before, she had gone to Portugal as the bride of the heir of that
kingdom. But the fair promise afforded by this union was blasted by the
untimely death of her consort, which took place on the second of
January, 1554. Three weeks afterwards, the unhappy widow gave birth to a
son, the famous Don Sebastian, whose Quixotic adventures have given him
a wider celebrity than is enjoyed by many a wiser sovereign. After the
cruel calamity which had befallen her, it was not without an effort that
Joanna resigned herself to her father's wishes, and consented to enter
on the duties of public life. In July, she quitted Lisbon,--the scene of
early joys, and of hopes for ever blighted,--and, amidst the regrets of
the whole court, returned, under a princely escort, to Castile. She was
received on the borders by the king, her brother, who conducted her to
Valladolid. Here she was installed, with due solemnity, in her office of
regent. A council of state was associated with her in the government. It
consisted of persons of the highest consideration, with the archbishop
of Seville at their head. By this body Joanna was to be advised, and
indeed to be guided in all matters of moment. Philip, on his departure,
left his sister an ample letter of instructions as to the policy to be
pursued by the administration, especially in affairs of religion.[93]

Joanna seems to have been a woman of discretion and virtue,--qualities
which belonged to the females of her line. She was liberal in her
benefactions to convents and colleges; and their cloistered inmates
showed their gratitude by the most lavish testimony to her deserts. She
had one rather singular practice. She was in the habit of dropping her
veil, when giving audience to foreign ambassadors. To prevent all doubts
as to her personal identity, she began the audience by raising her veil,
saying, "Am I not the princess?" She then again covered her face, and
the conference was continued without her further exposing her features.
"It was not necessary," says her biographer, in an accommodating spirit,
"to have the face uncovered in order to hear."[94] Perhaps Joanna
considered this reserve as suited to the season of her mourning,
intending it as a mark of respect to the memory of her deceased lord. In
any other view, we might suspect that there entered into her
constitution a vein of the same madness which darkened so large a part
of the life of her grandmother and namesake, Joanna of Castile.

Before leaving Valladolid, Philip formed a separate establishment for
his son, Don Carlos, and placed his education under the care of a
preceptor, Luis de Vives, a scholar not to be confounded with his
namesake, the learned tutor of Mary of England. Having completed his
arrangements, Philip set out for the place of his embarkation in the
north. At Compostella he passed some days, offering up his devotions to
the tutelar saint of Spain, whose shrine, throughout the Middle Ages,
had been the most popular resort of pilgrims from the western parts of
Christendom.

While at Compostella, Philip subscribed the marriage treaty, which had
been brought over from England by the earl of Bedford. He then proceeded
to Corunna, where a fleet of more than a hundred sail was riding at
anchor, in readiness to receive him. It was commanded by the admiral of
Castile, and had on board, besides its complement of seamen, four
thousand of the best troops of Spain. On the eleventh of July, Philip
embarked, with his numerous retinue, in which, together with the Flemish
Counts Egmont and Hoorne, were to be seen the dukes of Alva and Medina
Coeli, the prince of Eboli,--in short, the flower of the Castilian
nobility. They came attended by their wives and vassals, minstrels and
mummers, and a host of idle followers, to add to the splendor of the
pageant and do honor to their royal master. Yet the Spanish ambassador
at London had expressly recommended to Philip that his courtiers should
leave their ladies at home, and should come in as simple guise as
possible, so as not to arouse the jealousy of the English.[95]

After a pleasant run of a few days, the Spanish squadron came in sight
of the combined fleets of England and Flanders, under the command of the
Lord Admiral Howard, who was cruising in the channel in order to meet
the prince and convoy him to the English shore. The admiral seems to
have been a blunt sort of man, who spoke his mind with more candor than
courtesy. He greatly offended the Flemings by comparing their ships to
muscle-shells.[96] He is even said to have fired a gun as he approached
Philip's squadron, in order to compel it to lower its topsails in
acknowledgment of the supremacy of the English in the "narrow seas." But
this is probably the patriotic vaunt of an English writer, since it is
scarcely possible that the haughty Spaniard of that day would have made
such a concession, and still less so that the British commander would
have been so discourteous as to exact it on this occasion.

On the nineteenth of July, the fleets came to anchor in the port of
Southampton. A number of barges were soon seen pushing off from the
shore; one of which, protected by a rich awning and superbly lined with
cloth of gold, was manned by sailors, whose dress of white and green
intimated the royal livery. It was the queen's barge, intended for
Philip; while the other boats, all gaily ornamented, received his nobles
and their retinues.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S SPLENDID RECEPTION.]

The Spanish prince was welcomed, on landing, by a goodly company of
English lords, assembled to pay him their obeisance. The earl of Arundel
presented him, in the queen's name, with the splendid insignia of the
order of the Garter.[97] Philip's dress, as usual, was of plain black
velvet, with a berret cap, ornamented, after the fashion of the time,
with gold chains. By Mary's orders, a spirited Andalusian jennet had
been provided for him, which the prince instantly mounted. He was a good
rider, and pleased the people by his courteous bearing, and the graceful
manner in which he managed his horse.

The royal procession then moved forward to the ancient church of the
Holy Rood, where mass was said, and thanks were offered up for their
prosperous voyage. Philip, after this, repaired to the quarters assigned
to him during his stay in the town. They were sumptuously fitted up, and
the walls of the principal apartment hung with arras, commemorating the
doings of that royal polemic, Henry the Eighth. Among other inscriptions
in honor of him might be seen one proclaiming him "Head of the Church,"
and "Defender of the Faith;"--words which, as they were probably in
Latin, could not have been lost on the Spaniards.[98]

The news of Philip's landing was received in London with every
demonstration of joy. Guns were fired, bells were rung, processions were
made to the churches, bonfires were lighted in all the principal
streets, tables were spread in the squares laden with good cheer, and
wine and ale flowed freely as water for all comers.[99] In short, the
city gave itself up to a general jubilee, as if it were celebrating some
victorious monarch returned to his dominions, and not the man whose name
had lately been the object of such general execration. Mary gave instant
orders that the nobles of her court should hold themselves in readiness
to accompany her to Winchester, where she was to receive the prince; and
on the twenty-first of July she made her entry, in great state, into
that capital, and established her residence in the episcopal palace.

During the few days that Philip stayed at Southampton, he rode
constantly abroad, and showed himself frequently to the people. The
information he had received, before his voyage, of the state of public
feeling, had suggested to him some natural apprehensions for his safety.
He seems to have resolved, from the first, therefore, to adopt such a
condescending, and indeed affable demeanor, as would disarm the jealousy
of the English, and if possible conciliate their good-will. In this he
appears to have been very successful, although some of the more haughty
of the aristocracy did take exception at his neglecting to raise his cap
to them. That he should have imposed the degree of restraint which he
seems to have done on the indulgence of his natural disposition, is good
proof of the strength of his apprehensions.[100]

The favor which Philip showed the English gave umbrage to his own
nobles. They were still more disgusted by the rigid interpretation of
one of the marriage articles, by which some hundreds of their attendants
were prohibited, as foreigners, from landing, or, after landing, were
compelled to reembark, and return to Spain.[101] Whenever Philip went
abroad he was accompanied by Englishmen. He was served by Englishmen at
his meals. He breakfasted and dined in public, a thing but little to his
taste. He drank healths, after the manner of the English, and encouraged
his Spanish followers to imitate his example, as he quaffed the strong
ale of the country.[102]

On the twenty-third of the month, the earl of Pembroke arrived, with a
brilliant company of two hundred mounted gentlemen, to escort the prince
to Winchester. He was attended, moreover, by a body of English archers,
whose tunics of yellow cloth, striped with bars of red velvet, displayed
the gaudy-colored livery of the house of Aragon. The day was
unpropitious. The rain fell heavily, in such torrents as might have
cooled the enthusiasm of a more ardent lover than Philip. But he was too
gallant a cavalier to be daunted by the elements. The distance, not
great in itself, was to be travelled on horseback,--the usual mode of
conveyance at a time when roads were scarcely practicable for carriages.

Philip and his retinue had not proceeded far, when they were encountered
by a cavalier, riding at full speed, and bringing with him a ring which
Mary had sent her lover, with the request that he would not expose
himself to the weather, but postpone his departure to the following day.
The prince, not understanding the messenger, who spoke in English, and
suspecting that it was intended by Mary to warn him of some danger in
his path, instantly drew up by the road-side, and took counsel with Alva
and Egmont as to what was to be done. One of the courtiers, who
perceived his embarrassment, rode up and acquainted the prince with the
real purport of the message. Relieved of his alarm, Philip no longer
hesitated, but, with his red felt cloak wrapped closely about him and a
broad beaver slouched over his eyes, manfully pushed forward, in spite
of the tempest.

As he advanced, his retinue received continual accessions from the
neighboring gentry and yeomanry, until it amounted to some thousands
before he reached Winchester. It was late in the afternoon when the
cavalcade, soiled with travel and thoroughly drenched with rain, arrived
before the gates of the city. The mayor and aldermen, dressed in their
robes of scarlet, came to welcome the prince, and, presenting the keys
of the city, conducted him to his quarters.

That evening Philip had his first interview with Mary. It was private,
and he was taken to her residence by the chancellor, Gardiner, bishop of
Winchester. The royal pair passed an hour or more together; and, as Mary
spoke the Castilian fluently, the interview must have been spared much
of the embarrassment that would otherwise have attended it.[103]

[Sidenote: MARRIAGE OF PHILIP AND MARY.]

On the following day the parties met in public. Philip was attended by
the principal persons of his suite, of both sexes; and as the
procession, making a goodly show, passed through the streets on foot,
the minstrelsy played before them till they reached the royal residence.
The reception-room was the great hall of the palace. Mary, stepping
forward to receive her betrothed, saluted him with a loving kiss before
all the company. She then conducted him to a sort of throne, where she
took her seat by his side, under a stately canopy. They remained there
for an hour or more, conversing together, while their courtiers had
leisure to become acquainted with one another, and to find ample food,
doubtless, for future criticism, in the peculiarities of national
costume and manners. Notwithstanding the Spanish blood in Mary's veins,
the higher circles of Spain and England had personally almost as little
intercourse with one another at that period, as England and Japan have
at the present.

The ensuing day, the festival of St. James, the patron saint of Spain,
was the one appointed for the marriage. Philip exchanged his usual
simple dress for the bridal vestments provided for him by his mistress.
They were of spotless white, as the reporter is careful to inform us,
satin and cloth of gold, thickly powdered with pearls and precious
stones. Round his neck he wore the superb collar of the Golden Fleece,
the famous Burgundian order; while the brilliant riband below his knee
served as the badge of the no less illustrious order of the Garter. He
went on foot to the cathedral, attended by all his nobles, vying with
one another in the ostentatious splendor of their retinues.

Half an hour elapsed before Philip was joined by the queen at the
entrance of the cathedral. Mary was surrounded by the lords and ladies
of her court. Her dress, of white satin and cloth of gold, like his own,
was studded and fringed with diamonds of inestimable price, some of
them, doubtless, the gift of Philip, which he had sent to her by the
hands of the prince of Eboli, soon after his landing. Her bright-red
slippers, and her mantle of black velvet, formed a contrast to the rest
of her apparel, and, for a bridal costume, would hardly suit the taste
of the present day. The royal party then moved up the nave of the
cathedral, and were received in the choir by the bishop of Winchester,
supported by the great prelates of the English Church. The greatest of
all, Cranmer, the primate of all England, who should have performed the
ceremony, was absent,--in disgrace and a prisoner.

Philip and Mary took their seats under a royal canopy, with an altar
between them. The queen was surrounded by the ladies of her court; whose
beauty, says an Italian writer, acquired additional lustre by contrast
with the shadowy complexions of the south.[104] The aisles and spacious
galleries were crowded with spectators of every degree, drawn together
from the most distant quarters to witness the ceremony.

The silence was broken by Figueroa, one of the imperial council, who
read aloud an instrument of the emperor, Charles the Fifth. It stated
that this marriage had been of his own seeking; and he was desirous that
his beloved son should enter into it in a manner suitable to his own
expectations and the dignity of his illustrious consort. He therefore
resigned to him his entire right and sovereignty over the kingdom of
Naples and the duchy of Milan. The rank of the parties would thus be
equal, and Mary, instead of giving her hand to a subject, would wed a
sovereign like herself.

Some embarrassment occurred as to the person who should give the queen
away,--a part of the ceremony not provided for. After a brief
conference, it was removed by the marquis of Winchester and the earls of
Pembroke and Derby, who took it on themselves to give her away in the
name of the whole realm; at which the multitude raised a shout that made
the old walls of the cathedral ring again. The marriage service was then
concluded by the bishop of Winchester. Philip and Mary resumed their
seats, and mass was performed, when the bridegroom, rising, gave his
consort the "kiss of peace," according to the custom of the time. The
whole ceremony occupied nearly four hours. At the close of it Philip,
taking Mary by the hand, led her from the church. The royal couple were
followed by the long train of prelates and nobles, and were preceded by
the earls of Pembroke and Derby, each bearing aloft a naked sword, the
symbol of sovereignty. The effect of the spectacle was heightened by the
various costumes of the two nations,--the richly-tinted and picturesque
dresses of the Spaniards, and the solid magnificence of the English and
Flemings, mingling together in gay confusion. The glittering procession
moved slowly on, to the blithe sounds of festal music, while the air was
rent with the loyal acclamations of the populace, delighted, as usual,
with the splendor of the pageant.

In the great hall of the episcopal palace, a sumptuous banquet was
prepared for the whole company. At one end of the apartment was a dais,
on which, under a superb canopy, a table was set for the king and queen;
and a third seat was added for Bishop Gardiner, the only one of the
great lords who was admitted to the distinction of dining with royalty.

Below the dais, the tables were set on either side through the whole
length of the hall, for the English and Spanish nobles, all arranged--a
perilous point of etiquette--with due regard to their relative rank. The
royal table was covered with dishes of gold. A spacious beaufet, rising
to the height of eight stages, or shelves, and filled with a profusion
of gold and silver vessels, somewhat ostentatiously displayed the
magnificence of the prelate, or of his sovereign. Yet this ostentation
was rather Spanish than English; and was one of the forms in which the
Castilian grandee loved to display his opulence.[105]

At the bottom of the hall was an orchestra, occupied by a band of
excellent performers, who enlivened the repast by their music. But the
most interesting part of the show was that of the Winchester boys, some
of whom were permitted to enter the presence, and recite in Latin their
epithalamiums in honor of the royal nuptials, for which they received a
handsome guerdon from the queen.

[Sidenote: ROYAL ENTERTAINMENTS.]

After the banquet came the ball, at which, if we are to take an old
English authority, "the Spaniards were greatly out of countenance when
they saw the English so far excel them."[106] This seems somewhat
strange, considering that dancing is, and always has been, the national
pastime of Spain. Dancing is to the Spaniard what music is to the
Italian,--the very condition of his social existence.[107] It did not
continue late on the present occasion, and, at the temperate hour of
nine, the bridal festivities closed for the evening.[108]

Philip and Mary passed a few days in this merry way of life, at
Winchester, whence they removed, with their court, to Windsor. Here a
chapter of the order of the Garter was held, for the purpose of
installing King Philip. The herald, on this occasion, ventured to take
down the arms of England, and substitute those of Spain, in honor of the
new sovereign,--an act of deference which roused the indignation of the
English lords, who straightway compelled the functionary to restore the
national escutcheon to its proper place.[109]

On the twenty-eighth of August, Philip and Mary made their public entry
into London. They rode in on horseback, passing through the borough of
Southwark, across London Bridge. Every preparation was made by the loyal
citizens to give them a suitable reception. The columns of the buildings
were festooned with flowers, triumphal arches spanned the streets, the
walls were hung with pictures or emblazoned with legends in
commemoration of the illustrious pair, and a genealogy was traced for
Philip, setting forth his descent from John of Gaunt,--making him out,
in short, as much of an Englishman as possible.

Among the paintings was one in which Henry the Eighth was seen holding
in his hand a Bible. This device gave great scandal to the chancellor,
Gardiner, who called the painter sundry hard names, rating him roundly
for putting into King Harry's hand the sacred volume, which should
rather have been given to his daughter, Queen Mary, for her zeal to
restore the primitive worship of the Church. The unlucky artist lost no
time in repairing his error by brushing out the offending volume, and
did it so effectually, that he brushed out the royal fingers with it,
leaving the old monarch's mutilated stump held up, like some poor
mendicant's, to excite the compassion of the spectators.[110]

But the sight which, more than all these pageants, gave joy to the
hearts of the Londoners, was an immense quantity of bullion, which
Philip caused to be paraded through the city on its way to the Tower,
where it was deposited in the royal treasury. The quantity was said to
be so great, that, on one occasion, the chests containing it filled
twenty carts. On another, two wagons were so heavily laden with the
precious metal as to require to be drawn by nearly a hundred
horses.[111] The good people, who had looked to the coming of the
Spaniards as that of a swarm of locusts which was to consume their
substance, were greatly pleased to see their exhausted coffers so well
replenished from the American mines.

From London the royal pair proceeded to the shady solitudes of Hampton
Court, and Philip, weary of the mummeries in which he had been compelled
to take part, availed himself of the indisposition of his wife to
indulge in that retirement and repose which were more congenial to his
taste. This way of life in his pleasant retreat, however, does not
appear to have been so well suited to the taste of his English subjects.
At least, an old chronicler peevishly complains that "the hall-door
within the court was continually shut, so that no man might enter unless
his errand were first known; which seemed strange to Englishmen that had
not been used thereto."[112]

Yet Philip, although his apprehensions for his safety had doubtless
subsided, was wise enough to affect the same conciliatory manners as on
his first landing,--and not altogether in vain. "He discovered," says
the Venetian ambassador, in his report to the senate, "none of that
_sosiego_--the haughty indifference of the Spaniards--which
distinguished him when he first left home for Italy and Flanders.[113]
He was, indeed, as accessible as any one could desire, and gave patient
audience to all who asked it. He was solicitous," continues Micheli, "to
instruct himself in affairs, and showed a taste for application to
business,"--which, it may be added, grew stronger with years. "He spoke
little. But his remarks, though brief, were pertinent. In short," he
concludes, "he is a prince of an excellent genius, a lively
apprehension, and a judgment ripe beyond his age."

Philip's love of business, however, was not such as to lead him to take
part prematurely in the management of affairs. He discreetly left this
to the queen and her ministers, to whose judgment he affected to pay the
greatest deference. He particularly avoided all appearance of an attempt
to interfere with the administration of justice, unless it were to
obtain some act of grace. Such interference only served to gain him the
more credit with the people.[114]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S INFLUENCE.]

That he gained largely on their good-will may be inferred from the
casual remarks of more than one contemporary writer. They bear emphatic
testimony to the affability of his manners, so little to have been
expected from the popular reports of his character. "Among other
things," writes Wotton, the English minister at the French court, "one I
have been right glad to hear of is, that the king's highness useth
himself so gently and lovingly to all men. For, to tell you the truth, I
have heard some say, that, when he came out of Spain into Italy, it was
by some men wished that he had showed a somewhat more benign countenance
to the people than it was said he then did."[115] Another contemporary,
in a private letter, written soon after the king's entrance into London,
after describing his person as "so well proportioned that Nature cannot
work a more perfect pattern," concludes with commending him for his
"pregnant wit and most gentle nature."[116]

Philip, from the hour of his landing, had been constant in all his
religious observances. "He was as punctual," says Micheli, "in his
attendance at mass, and his observance of all the forms of devotion, as
any monk;--more so, as some people thought, than became his age and
station. The ecclesiastics," he adds, "with whom Philip had constant
intercourse, talked loudly of his piety."[117]

Yet there was no hypocrisy in this. However willing Philip may have been
that his concern for the interests of religion might be seen of men, it
is no less true that, as far as he understood these interests, his
concern was perfectly sincere. The actual state of England may have even
operated as an inducement with him to overcome his scruples as to the
connection with Mary. "Better not reign at all," he often remarked,
"than reign over heretics." But what triumph more glorious than that of
converting these heretics, and bringing them back again into the bosom
of the Church? He was most anxious to prepare the minds of his new
subjects for an honorable reception of the papal legate, Cardinal Pole,
who was armed with full authority to receive the submission of England
to the Holy See. He employed his personal influence with the great
nobles, and enforced it occasionally by liberal drafts on those Peruvian
ingots which he had sent to the Tower. At least, it is asserted that he
gave away yearly pensions, to the large amount of between fifty and
sixty thousand gold crowns, to sundry of the queen's ministers. It was
done on the general plea of recompensing their loyalty to their
mistress.[118]

Early in November, tidings arrived of the landing of Pole. He had been
detained some weeks in Germany, by the emperor, who felt some
distrust--not ill-founded, as it seems--of the cardinal's disposition in
regard to the Spanish match. Now that this difficulty was obviated, he
was allowed to resume his journey. He came up the Thames in a
magnificent barge, with a large silver cross, the emblem of his legatine
authority, displayed on the prow. The legate, on landing, was received
by the king, the queen, and the whole court, with a reverential
deference which argued well for the success of his mission.

He was the man, of all others, best qualified to execute it. To a
natural kindness of temper he united an urbanity and a refinement of
manners, derived from familiar intercourse with the most polished
society of Europe, his royal descent entitled him to mix on terms of
equality with persons of the highest rank, and made him feel as much at
ease in the court as in the cloister. His long exile had opened to him
an acquaintance with man as he is found in various climes, while, as a
native-born Englishman, he perfectly understood the prejudices and
peculiar temper of his own countrymen. "Cardinal Pole," says the
Venetian minister, "is a man of unblemished nobility, and so strict in
his integrity, that he grants nothing to the importunity of friends. He
is so much beloved, both by prince and people, that he may well be
styled the king where all is done by his authority."[119] An English
cardinal was not of too frequent occurrence in the sacred college. That
one should have been found at the present juncture, with personal
qualities, moreover, so well suited to the delicate mission to England,
was a coincidence so remarkable, that Philip and Mary might well be
excused for discerning in it the finger of Providence.

On the seventeenth of the month, parliament, owing to the queen's
indisposition, met at Whitehall; and Pole made that celebrated speech in
which he recapitulated some of the leading events of his own life, and
the persecutions he had endured for conscience' sake. He reviewed the
changes in religion which had taken place in England, and implored his
audience to abjure their spiritual errors, and to seek a reconciliation
with the Catholic Church. He assured them of his plenary power to grant
absolution for the past; and--what was no less important--to authorize
the present proprietors to retain possession of the abbey lands which
had been confiscated under King Henry. This last concession, which had
been extorted with difficulty from the pope, reconciling, as it did,
temporal with spiritual interests, seems to have dispelled whatever
scruples yet lingered in the breasts of the legislature. There were few,
probably, in that goodly company, whose zeal would have aspired to the
crown of martyrdom.

The ensuing day, parliament, in obedience to the royal summons, again
assembled at Whitehall. Philip took his seat on the left of Mary, under
the same canopy, while Cardinal Pole sat at a greater distance on her
right.[120]

[Sidenote: THE CATHOLIC CHURCH RESTORED.]

The chancellor, Gardiner, then presented a petition in the name of the
lords and commons, praying for reconciliation with the papal see.
Absolution was solemnly pronounced by the legate, and the whole assembly
received his benediction on their bended knees. England, purified from
her heresy, was once more restored to the communion of the Roman
Catholic Church.

Philip instantly despatched couriers, with the glad tidings, to Rome,
Brussels, and other capitals of Christendom. Everywhere the event was
celebrated with public rejoicings, as if it had been some great victory
over the Saracens. As Philip's zeal for the faith was well known, and as
the great change had taken place soon after his arrival in England, much
of the credit of it was ascribed to him.[121] Thus, before ascending the
throne of Spain, he had vindicated his claim to the title of Catholic,
so much prized by the Spanish monarchs. He had won a triumph greater
than that which his father had been able to win after years of war, over
the Protestants of Germany; greater than any which had been won by the
arms of Cortés or Pizarro in the New World. Their contest had been with
the barbarian; the field of Philip's labors was one of the most potent
and civilized countries of Europe.

The work of conversion was speedily followed by that of persecution. To
what extent Philip's influence was exerted in this is not manifest.
Indeed, from anything that appears, it would not be easy to decide
whether his influence was employed to promote or to prevent it. One fact
is certain, that, immediately after the first martyrs suffered at
Smithfield, Alfonso de Castro, a Spanish friar, preached a sermon in
which he bitterly inveighed against these proceedings. He denounced them
as repugnant to the true spirit of Christianity, which was that of
charity and forgiveness, and which enjoined its ministers not to take
vengeance on the sinner, but to enlighten him as to his errors, and
bring him to repentance.[122] This bold appeal had its effect, even in
that season of excitement. For a few weeks the arm of persecution seemed
to be palsied. But it was only for a few weeks. Toleration was not the
virtue of the sixteenth century. The charitable doctrines of the good
friar fell on hearts withered by fanaticism; and the spirit of
intolerance soon rekindled the fires of Smithfield into a fiercer glow
than before.

Yet men wondered at the source whence these strange doctrines had
proceeded. The friar was Philip's confessor. It was argued that he would
not have dared to speak thus boldly, had it not been by the command of
Philip, or, at least, by his consent. That De Castro should have thus
acted at the suggestion of his master is contradicted by the whole tenor
of Philip's life. Hardly four years elapsed before he countenanced by
his presence an _auto da fé_ in Valladolid, where fourteen persons
perished at the stake; and the burning of heretics in England could have
done no greater violence to his feelings than the burning of heretics in
Spain. If the friar did indeed act in obedience to Philip, we may well
suspect that the latter was influenced less by motives of humanity than
of policy; and that the disgust manifested by the people at the
spectacle of these executions may have led him to employ this expedient
to relieve himself of any share in the odium which attached to
them.[123]

What was the real amount of Philip's influence, in this or other
matters, it is not possible to determine. It is clear that he was
careful not to arouse the jealousy of the English by any parade of
it.[124] One obvious channel of it lay in the queen, who seems to have
doated on him with a fondness that one would hardly have thought a
temper cold and repulsive, like that of Philip, capable of exciting. But
he was young and good-looking. His manners had always been found to
please the sex, even where he had not been so solicitous to please as he
was in England. He was Mary's first and only love; for the emperor was
too old to have touched aught but her vanity, and Courtenay was too
frivolous to have excited any other than a temporary feeling. This
devotion to Philip, according to some accounts, was ill requited by his
gallantries. The Venetian ambassador says of him, that "he well deserved
the tenderness of his wife, for he was the most loving and the best of
husbands." But it seems probable that the Italian, in his estimate of
the best of husbands, adopted the liberal standard of his own
country.[125]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S INFLUENCE.]

About the middle of November, parliament was advised that the queen was
in a state of pregnancy. The intelligence was received with the joy
usually manifested by loyal subjects on like occasions. The emperor
seems to have been particularly pleased with this prospect of an heir,
who, by the terms of the marriage treaty, would make a division of that
great empire which it had been the object of its master's life to build
up and consolidate under one sceptre. The commons, soon after, passed an
act empowering Philip, in case it should go otherwise than well with the
queen at the time of her confinement, to assume the regency, and take
charge of the education of her child during its minority. The regency
was to be limited by the provisions of the marriage treaty. But the act
may be deemed evidence that Philip had gained on the confidence of his
new subjects.

The symptoms continued to be favorable; and, as the time approached for
Mary's confinement, messengers were held in readiness to bear the
tidings to the different courts. The loyal wishes of the people ran so
far ahead of reality, that the rumor went abroad of the actual birth of
a prince. Bells were rung, bonfires lighted; _Te Deum_ was sung in some
of the churches; and one of the preachers "took upon him to describe the
proportions of the child, how fair, how beautiful and great a prince it
was, as the like had not been seen!" "But for all this great labor,"
says the caustic chronicler, "for their yoong maister long looked for
coming so surely into the world, in the end appeared neither yoong
maister nor yoong maistress, that any man to this day can hear of."[126]

The queen's disorder proved to be a dropsy. But, notwithstanding the
mortifying results of so many prognostics and preparations, and the
ridicule which attached to it, Mary still cherished the illusion of one
day giving an heir to the crown. Her husband did not share in this
illusion; and, as he became convinced that she had no longer prospect of
issue, he found less inducement to protract his residence in a country
which, on many accounts, was most distasteful to him. Whatever show of
deference might be paid to him, his haughty spirit could not be pleased
by the subordinate part which he was compelled to play, in public, to
the queen. The parliament had never so far acceded to Mary's wishes as
to consent to his coronation as king of England. Whatever weight he may
have had in the cabinet, it had not been such as to enable him to make
the politics of England subservient to his own interests, or, what was
the same thing, to those of his father. Parliament would not consent to
swerve so far from the express provisions of the marriage treaty as to
become a party in the emperor's contest with France.[127]

Nor could the restraint constantly imposed on Philip, by his desire to
accommodate himself to the tastes and habits of the English, be
otherwise than irksome to him. If he had been more successful in this
than might have been expected, yet it was not possible to overcome the
prejudices, the settled antipathy, with which the Spaniards were
regarded by the great mass of the people, as was evident from the
satirical shafts, which, from time to time, were launched by
pamphleteers and ballad-makers, both against the king and his followers.

These latter were even more impatient than their master of their stay in
a country where they met with so many subjects of annoyance. If a
Spaniard bought anything, complains one of the nation, he was sure to be
charged an exorbitant price for it.[128] If he had a quarrel with an
Englishman, says another writer, he was to be tried by English law, and
was very certain to come off the worst.[129] Whether right or wrong, the
Spaniards could hardly fail to find abundant cause of irritation and
disgust. The two nations were too dissimilar for either of them to
comprehend the other. It was with no little satisfaction, therefore,
that Philip's followers learned that their master had received a summons
from his father to leave England, and join him in Flanders.

The cause of this sudden movement was one that filled the Castilians, as
it did all Europe, with astonishment,--the proposed abdication of
Charles the Fifth. It was one that might seem to admit of neither doubt
nor delay on Philip's part. But Mary, distressed by the prospect of
separation, prevailed on her husband to postpone his departure for
several weeks. 

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