The Court of Philip IV.: Spain in Decadence

by Martin A. S. Hume

CHAPTER VII

INTRIGUES TO SECURE ENGLISH NEUTRALITY—HOPTON AND OLIVARES—SOCIAL LAXITY IN MADRID—CHARLES I. APPROACHES SPAIN—THE BUEN RETIRO AND THE ARTS—WAR IN CATALONIA—DISTRESS IN THE CAPITAL AND FRIVOLITY IN THE COURT—PREVENTING LAWLESSNESS—THE RECEPTION OF THE PRINCESS OF CARIGNANO—SIR WALTER ASTON IN MADRID—THE ENGLISH INTRIGUE ABANDONED

As Spain drifted nearer and nearer to the inevitable war with France, Olivares became more friendly with the English. He hinted that Spain was getting tired of the burden of the Emperor's wars, and might soon be pleased to give up the Palatinate. At another time he told Hopton that the Palatine business might be settled in a few hours; and through all the reverses that were daily befalling the imperial and Spanish cause the Count-Duke kept a good face. "I never saw him merrier, nor with greater appearance of confidence. God grant he may have reason," reported Hopton in the summer of 1633. Rojas, too, who was the mouthpiece of Olivares, harped constantly on the same string. "They were most desirous of close friendship with England; but had such crosses with Germany." At the same time the talk of war with France grew throughout the country; though Hopton could not understand how it was possible for them to raise armies or money, for all their talk, "having neither men sufficient to man their ships nor to till their ground."

Decay of commerce

The penury of the country, indeed, was greater than ever. The American trade, a close monopoly nominally, had previously been the ultimate resource of Spanish kings in need; but that was failing now. In June 1632 the silver fleet came into Seville, and instead of the treasure being delivered to its legitimate owners, most of it was seized by the Government. The merchants utterly lost heart, and when the time came for the return fleet to leave Seville in the autumn, Hopton wrote:

"The Indian fleet is ready to sail, but there is no merchandise nor merchant ships, and it will cost the King more than it will bring. The reason for this is that for many years past the trade of the Indies has decayed, being wholly given up by Spaniards, and kept alive by strangers. The Spanish merchants think it not worth while to continue a fleet, as the King keeps in the Contratacion (India House) all the silver and gold, and hath assumed to himself first the customs, then the 47 per cent. average, and will not declare his purpose as to the rest. This has caused such disability and unwillingness to send goods, and hath brought trade so low, that whereas licences for strangers to trade there were hardly gotten for 4000 ducats, they are now offering them for 4000 reales; and I thinke they will shortly be forced to hyre adventurers. As for the trade in Portugal, that country cannot do a sixth part of it, and so they are obliged to grant licences to contract with strangers to trade in Brazil, offering such conditions as they may trade safely."

I have transcribed these lines at length, because they show in vivid terms how the suicidal system of finance was ruining every class of the community. The workers, agricultural and urban, especially the former, had been the first to go under, then the smaller tradesmen, crushed by the alcabala tax on all sales, and the tampering with the currency; and the turn now had come of the great merchants and bankers; whilst even the nobles and churchmen had been bled freely by the last "voluntary donation."[[1]] In these circumstances it is not surprising that the dissatisfaction became almost clamorous in its intensity. Such pasquins passed from hand to hand on Liars' Walk that people said that the ghost of Villa Mediana must surely be walking his old haunts again, so bitter were they. Olivares, it was whispered, had poisoned the Infante Carlos, and had tried to send Fernando by the same road. The French were ready with great armies to devastate Spain, only because Olivares was coquetting with the rebel Orleans. Even the Pope, said the gossips, was being insulted and flouted by this minister, who was but an ill-born Jew in disguise.[[2]] "If you heard," wrote Hopton to Cottington, in August 1632, "the libels and foolish inventions of the people against the Conde, you would never desire to be a favourite."[[3]]

Olivares' difficulties

Thus affairs in the capital went from bad to worse. Fanaticism spent itself upon the loan-mongers, mostly Genoese and Jews with Portuguese names, who served Olivares in extremity, and many of them, and the richest, fell into the hands of the Inquisition. There were frequent hints, uttered beneath bated breath, that if all men had their due Olivares himself would be burnt in a sambenito outside the gate of Fuencarral, for he had risen by the devilish arts of sorcery, and kept the King in his power by witchcraft.[[4]] Enormous difficulty was experienced in levying troops for the war, for the country was half depopulated, and many able-bodied men fled: the old spirit of confidence in a sacred mission was gone, and they had now no stomach for a fight provoked by the King's favourite. The Catalans looked on in sulky suspicion, believing that Olivares needed the soldiers to rob them of their liberties; whilst in Madrid itself, though there were only eight companies of troops, "and more idle men to be spared than in half Spain."[[5]] The shirkers flocked by thousands into ecclesiastical and noble service, or in that of the Inquisition, with little or no pay, in order to escape enlistment.[[6]] News came daily, too, of reverses in Flanders, and serious riots in Biscay against the salt tax; and in the meanwhile the French armies were mustering upon the Pyrenean frontier to menace Spanish territory when the dread hour should strike. No spot of brightness indeed appeared anywhere.

Olivares had opened secret negotiations direct with Charles I. for an offensive and defiance alliance against France, in union with the party of Marie de Medici and the Duke of Orleans; and again the English were sure for a time that now the Palatinate would be restored,—too late, however, in any case, for poor Frederick, who had just died. But soon another cause for dispute changed Olivares' tone towards England. Behind the amiable talk about the Palatinate large bodies of men for the Spanish service had been raised in Ireland. This, it was seen, would not do. Charles I. was willing to oblige Spain in return for concessions in the matter of the Palatinate; and Scottish, or even English, mercenaries, he said, might be obtained. But Catholic Irishmen, "utter rebels"! Olivares was told plainly that he could not have; "for if ever Spain meant to do us harm it would be by means of the Irish." So the new Irish troops were stopped by England before they were embarked, and Olivares, in a violent rage, said he had been betrayed and ruined, and would never trust an Englishman again. England, indeed, at last was learning what manner of man Olivares was. Suave and diplomatic when it served his turn, but, whilst gaining everything, giving nothing but vague promises in exchange. English shipmasters were still being disgracefully despoiled; not a step had really been taken for the restoration of the Palatinate; and Charles was more than justified in insisting upon practical proofs of Spanish friendship before he stretched a point to help Olivares.

A dissolute court

Through all this gathering trouble, with deep discontent at home and menace on all sides, the trivial life in Madrid went on in the usual way. "The King hath been very sensible of the losse of Rheinsberg," wrote Hopton in June 1633; "and the Conde hath endeavoured to divert him with playes and maskes at a new house (Buen Retiro) he hath built near the St. Geronimo monasterie: a thing of noe great expense for such a King, yet murmured at by the people, who will allow to governors in times of misfortune nothing but care."[[7]] As time went on, Philip had grown more idle and dissolute than ever; and the tone of the Court had followed the fashion of the King. The newsletters of the period from Madrid are simply a collection of atrocious scandals touching the honour of the highest people in the Court. The blame for this also was laid, though not very justly, upon Olivares, who, having lost his only daughter, the Marchioness de Heliche, to his enduring grief, had now cast the whole of his affection upon his bastard son Julian, whom he subsequently legitimated, and rechristened Enrique Felipe de Guzman, to the fury of the nobles who were opposed to him. But this fact, although it contributed ostensibly to his fall, as the Queen was persuaded that he had induced Philip to legitimate his own favourite bastard Don Juan in order that he, Olivares, might have a good precedent to do likewise with his, was really but a venial fault in a Court so corrupt as this.

A budget of scandal

In his private letters to Cottington, Hopton occasionally allowed himself to tell some of the current scandal concerning courtiers, who were, of course, well known to Cottington. He appears in one of his letters to have hinted at a terrible misfortune as having happened to some highly placed ladies in Madrid, but without giving details. Charles I. saw the letter, and was much offended apparently that the scandal should be mentioned vaguely. Hopton (26th October 1633) wrote an abject letter of apology to King Charles, beseeching pardon, and saying that he had only mentioned scandal and avoided particulars in order to save the lady's honour; but in obedience to his Majesty's orders he would now tell the whole story.

"The tragedy began in Cardinal Zapata's house, where there is a niece of his, daughter of his sister the Countess de Valenzuela, a very fine lady, and exceedingly well beloved by her uncle, who married her about two years ago to the eldest son of the Count de Sevilla, with whom she lived about a year, and, being left a widow, returned to the protection of the Cardinal, her uncle. In the house there lived a favourite servant of the Cardinal, one Joseph Cabra, who had entered the service at Zaragoza as a page, but now occupied the post of highest trust in the household. The Count of Sevilla's son was jealous of this man before he died; but since his death the Count his father has proceeded criminally against the young Countess and Cabra, for living in adultery together and murdering the husband. It is now certain that since she became a widow she lived with Cabra and had a child by him, which made them resolve on a secret marriage. This was concealed for some months, and divulged at last through a slip of Cabra's, who failed to pay sufficiently handsomely the officers of the church where they were married. The whole business then came out. Cabra fled to his own country, where he thought he would be safe; and there he published something vindicating his quality. There was no reason, he argued, why his marriage with the Countess should be considered strange. Others of greater inequality had been married before; for instance, the Duchess of Peñaranda and her steward Avellaneda. He knew this, he said, by his having had access to the secret books of Toledo Cathedral. The Duchess of Peñaranda was a younger daughter of the Cardinal Duke of Lerma; and she was known in her youth to have been free, but all passed under her high spirits. The Duke of Lerma had a page called Avellaneda, who, being a favourite, was appointed to wait upon his daughter in those liberties she assumed, and to be the instrument of justification to her and him. The Duke of Lerma having died, the page was appointed steward, and although he was already married, she (the Duchess) had a child by him, who is now five years old. Eighteen months ago, Avellaneda's wife died, and the Duchess married him. When the bans were published, her son, the present Duke of Peñaranda, happened to be present; but the names being common ones he did not suspect, though he mentioned the matter to his mother as a curious coincidence. This marriage being discovered by the disclosures in Cabra's pamphlet, threw all the town in a turmoil. The Duke of Peñaranda assembled in the house of his sister, the Marchioness of Villena, his confidential kindred, to consult them as to what had to be done. There it was decided that he must first kill Avellaneda. When this news reached the palace, the King sent for the Duke of Peñaranda, and ordered him to do nothing as he (the King) would take the matter into his own hands. He sent to Illescas, where Avellaneda was, and had him brought in a cart to the common prison here; the Duchess being sent to the royal convent of nuns of St. Domingo el Real,[[8]] where she still remains. Cabra, who had caused all this trouble, was also imprisoned, and his wife as well, though she in her justification said: 'Why punish me, who try to live in the grace of God?—let them look to those who live like strumpets'; and amongst those who did so she mentioned the Dowager Duchess of Pastrana. The affair has caused dreadful scandal, but has been hushed up. The good old Cardinal (Zapata) has taken so much to heart the misfortune of his niece, who, after having been committed to the custody of an Alcalde de Corte, has been sent to a nunnery, that ill-meaning people say that she is really his daughter. He is so troubled about it that he has moved to six different houses in six months, and much mistrust exists. Another thing has arisen out of the affair. The great distaste to the house of Peñaranda has caused the Duke to retire from Court. The King was quite willing for him to go, but did not like his wife to go with him. She is the daughter and heir to the Marquis of Valdonquilla, the uncle of the Admiral (of Castile), who, without taking any notice of the King's displeasure, forced her to follow her husband. But they say the commerce is established."

This budget of scandal sent to the King of England shows how utterly rotten was the moral condition of the Court, when it sufficed for one disgraceful episode to be made public for a whole string of others to follow touching the honour of those who stood highest. This scandalous immorality, arising apparently from the absolute degeneration of religion into a formula, and of its ceasing to be a guide of conduct, extended to all classes of society, and terrified stories were told of horrible irreligious rites being carried on in the conventual houses themselves by a secret society called the "illumined ones" (alumbrados). The particulars of one awful scandal of the sort, which was investigated by the Inquisition at this time (1633), caused great excitement in Madrid. It related to the proceedings of the nuns of St. Placido of Madrid, who were pronounced by the Benedictine chaplain, Fray Garcia, to be nearly all possessed of the devil; and on the pretext of exorcising them he was with them almost day and night. This went on for three years, when the fact that twenty-eight out of the thirty nuns in the convent were said to be possessed appeared so strange and suspicious, that the Inquisition intervened; and, in the course of a long inquiry and much torture of the chaplain, uncovered an appalling story of sacrilege, black magic, and immorality combined, for which all the persons implicated were severely punished; though a few years afterwards (1638) an attempt was made to whitewash the condemned.[[9]]

It is needless to say that in such a society as this, idle, depraved, and to all effects pagan under its morbid devotion, the race after pleasure became ever keener, notwithstanding the disasters abroad and the misery at home. The Saints' days were excessively numerous, and the parishes vied with each other in the attractions of their religious performances; the autos-de-fe alternated with the constant bull-fights, cane tourneys, and the other festivities so often described in earlier pages; the amorous adventures of the King became more frequent, or at all events were more talked about, than before; and the new palace and garden of the Buen Retiro formed a more suitable background for such proceedings than the old palace had been. Every birth in the King's family, every reception of ambassadors, every royal anniversary, was made the excuse for one of these long series of festivities. Hopton, writing to Coke in October 1633, says that the King was then boar killing at the Escorial and Balsain, and that already the capital was preparing to welcome him back in the following week with a series of bull-fights and cane tourneys.

The Buen Retiro

"Great preparations are being made to warme a new house built near by the monastery of St. Geronimo, and contrived by Olivares.... The business seems to be a matter of Olivares' or the King's affection, or both, as about 1000 men are at work to have the place ready in time. They are working day and night, as well as Sundays and holidays. I doubt what will happen when the place is burdened with such a posse of people as usually resort to such pastimes, the mortar being yet greene, the building will run some hazard. There is much talk in the town about it, generally against the charge thereof being taken from the bellys of the people by an imposition on wine, flesh, etc. They suffer it worse because they say it is a fancy of the Conde's (Olivares)."[[10]]

In another letter, Hopton mentions that the house-warming of the Buen Retiro is to last four days; with bull-fights, running at the ring, wild beast fights and other similar sports; in which "I may say without flattery, the King, with his excellent comportment, exceeded all that came in with him. The house is very richly furnished, and almost all by presents; for the Conde hath made the matter his own, by whose means it hath wanted not friends."[[11]] And then, as if to furnish a fit commentary upon all this wasteful frivolity, the English ambassador proceeds to say that trade with the Indies was dead, and that, "if things go on like this they will not be able to re-establish it, and that Portuguese Indian trade has been almost quite killed by neglect."[[12]]

Charles I. and Olivares

Whilst the drums were beating in Madrid and other great cities to enlist recruits to face the French in the coming war, and Olivares, almost in despair, was casting about for fresh ways of getting large sums of money, he ceaselessly endeavoured to win England to his side. It was clear that the old method and the old bait would have to be changed somewhat, for bland verbal assurances from the Spaniards in favour of a restoration of the Palatinate, whilst the Emperor was left unpledged, could no longer impose upon the least suspicious of diplomatists. The new move was an extraordinary one, and displays vividly the falsity of Charles I. For some time previous to the beginning of 1634, Olivares had been delighting Hopton by his conciliatoriness, and somewhat mystifying him by arch hints as to the future. Writing on the 24th January 1634, Hopton says that Olivares was very much better disposed in English affairs than he was wont to be. "I have done him several services, and try to leave him contented."

A few weeks after this, an explanation of the Count-Duke's amiability came to Hopton in the form of a private letter from Windebank, the Secretary of the King of England, enclosing the copy of an address made by the resident Spanish agent in London, Nicolalde, to Charles. There had been a talk for weeks of sending some great personage from Spain as a special ambassador; but in the meantime Nicolalde had cast soundings by suggesting a close alliance between England and the Emperor, in which the Palatine would join. Charles had replied cautiously, saying that he would consider it if the Palatine were confirmed in the possession of the territories he now held, and especially the Lower Palatinate. But the real inwardness of it all was revealed in a private letter of 13th February from Cottington to Hopton, saying that Charles was willing to league himself with the Emperor and Spain on certain conditions, but that Coke, the Secretary of State, was to be kept entirely in the dark about it, the negotiations being carried on with the King (Charles) direct through Windebank. The object of the proposed alliance was, "the expulsion of foreigners from the empire, and the reduction of the rebels to due obedience," which meant the crushing of the Dutch Protestants. King Charles, says Cottington, is quite set upon it. The plan can only miscarry by incredulity on the part of Olivares, or any waywardness of Nicolalde; and Charles, as an earnest of his good faith, offers the escort of an English fleet to the Infante Fernando, if it was intended to send him to Flanders by sea.[[13]]

Intrigues with Charles I.

Behind this there was another mysterious negotiation going on, relating apparently to a marriage between Charles's eldest daughter Mary Stuart to Prince Baltasar Carlos, both of whom were children of tender years. Many close conversations on the subject took place between Hopton, as the personal mouthpiece of King Charles, and Philip and his minister. The constant claims and complaints of the English merchants and shipmasters of Spanish extortion annoyed Hopton almost as much as Olivares, because they introduced an element of trouble in these loving confabulations. But Hopton, though zealous to serve his King, was clearly ill at ease, as well he might be, for it was a dangerous business for Charles to receive a big money subsidy from SPain, as was proposed, and to turn the arms of England against the Protestants. Hopton goes so far, indeed, as to say in his letters to Windebank that he is not in favour of the subsidy, but that King Charles should fit out a fleet at his own expense against the Dutch. This will, he says, be easier, and will leave Charles more free and able to bring the Dutch to reason. But, he continues, if the matter is undertaken at all, it must be seen through to the end, or Holland will wax too insolent to be borne.

Long discussions with the Council of State and with Olivares kept Hopton busy in Madrid for months; the while the great betrayal proposed was kept from the Secretary of State and all the responsible ministers in England, a good foretaste of the policy that led Charles Stuart to ruin and the block. To the official Secretary of State, Hopton had much to say about the great preparations being made in Spain for war, but no word about the secret plan for England to join in it on the Catholic side. Great loans and levies are constantly being raised, he reported in April 1634.

"This great ship," he wrote, meaning of course Spain, "contains much water (i.e. money), but many leaks, and is always dry. It is certain that they have made loans this year for 13 millions (of ducats), and are still treating of more, yet at the end of the year they will neither have money in their purse, nor army paid, nor nobody contented; which is to be attributed to the hard terms wherewith they do their business. For being masters of the mines of gold and silver, and withal having but few friends, nobody will serve them but for their interests: and their own subjects are so well conceited of themselves, as they think they cannot be paid enough."[[14]] "In their present levies," he continues, "though they are sorry men, they give them 3 reales a day, which is 18 pence English, and yet have all they can do to keep them from running away. Subjects are fearfully hardly pressed. The hard usage of business men in the Indian trade has made concealment general, which has greatly reduced the revenue of the crown. Great measures were taken to discover unregistered treasure in the last fleet, and they found 600,000 ducats, and will yet find more. But this again will stop trade."

Approach of war

Everything possible was done by Olivares to please the English at this juncture. The prisoners of the Inquisition at Cadiz were released, Hopton was made much of, King Charles was the most popular potentate amongst the idlers of Madrid; whilst the French ambassador, stoned and insulted in the streets, was fain to take refuge in a monastery twelve miles away to avoid scandal. "They want our friendship now," wrote Hopton, "and we may make our market." The English ambassador had his head quite turned by so much attention, and, to the anger of King Charles, was drawn by the superior diplomacy of Olivares into going beyond his instructions in his promises to the Spaniards. The King of England had been bitten too often by Spanish plausibility not to be distrustful; and Windebank's letter to Hopton, in May 1634, was almost violent in its scolding. Hopton had gone so far as to say that the English had decided to put a powerful army in the field to punish the insolence of the Dutch, whereas King Charles had only broached it as a proposition, and Nicolalde in the meanwhile was pledging the Spaniards to nothing. When Olivares was pressed for guarantees in return for the English aid he craved, the usual story was told; and by the middle of July Hopton wrote to Windebank—

"The business, as I expected when I saw them haggling, has come to naught. They only want to keep us neutral; and the affair is at an end. I am not sorry, unless the Palatine might be made secure. When I said they would oblige the gratefullest prince living, Olivares replied: 'No hay gratitud entre Reyes' (There is no gratitude between kings)."[[15]]

Olivares was beset on all sides. Detested by the nobles, with nearly all of whom he was at feud;[[16]] feared and dreaded by the commercial community, whom he had ruined; overworked, and at his wits' end to face the vast present and prospective drains upon the national resources, striving not only to do all the work of State himself and to direct everything, but also to keep the King in a good humour by providing an endless series of amusements for him, the Count-Duke was "so spent with the burden of business that lies upon him," as Hopton wrote, "as to deserve pity, if he would only pity himself." There was no class of people now that did not feel the crushing weight of the war expenditure, even before the great war with France had begun. In June 1634, Hopton reports that "a new tax had been imposed of one-eighth of the value of all wine sold in Madrid, with no exception allowed, and one twenty-fourth of all that is sold in the Castilian realms. All the shops that sell wine are shut, so that all stock may be registered and an account be rendered of sales. They think thus to charge the retailer under great penalties. It is like to be a great trouble, and the greater part of the benefit will be consumed in officers and false accounts." "I doe much doubte," he continues, "that by degrees those impositions will first be laid upon all things of home fabric and growth, and afterwards upon those things imported from abroad; and your Honour (Coke) may guess to what immoderation the revenues of this crown will grow by this means."[[17]]

The good, simple ambassador made no allowance for the self-stultifying operation of oppressive taxation, and if he had reviewed the state of affairs a few years later, he would have seen, as we shall in the course of this book, that, so far from benefiting Philip's treasury, these blighting impositions on the exchange of commodities ended in a decrease of the revenue. But whilst the citizens were groaning under impossible burdens, and the curses of a whole nation were following the careworn Count-Duke, the King, as much afflicted with the troubles of his people as anyone, but looking upon them as a visitation of providence, must needs seek in pleasure distraction from his vicarious sorrow which the oppressed citizens themselves could not escape.

"All the Court is at the new house" (i.e. the Buen Retiro) "for a fortnight," wrote Hopton in July 1634, "which time hath been spent in all manner of entertainments and much to their Majesties' contentment, wherein the Count of Olivares took great pains, all things being ordered by himself; and so well, as it savoured of his excellent judgment in all things, especially in the furniture of the house, which was such as not to be thought there had been so many curiosities in the whole kingdom; and this at very little expense, for it was for the most part done by presents. Howbeit the things that were bought were dearly and punctually paid for, inasmuch as nobody can wisely complain."

Furnishing the Buen Retiro

Doubtless no one could wisely complain, but many had reason to do so, for few great people with art collections escaped spoliation, and the other palaces were to a great extent denuded of their treasures, for the purpose of cramming the Buen Retiro with rarities. Some of the nobles, like the Auditor Tejada, were artful enough to have copies made of their best pictures, and sent the copies as originals to the Buen Retiro. But, as in his case, this was bitterly resented by Olivares if it was found out. The Marquis of Leganés, the nephew of the Count-Duke, had a superb collection of pictures and articles of vertu brought from Flanders and Italy; but when he was called upon to disgorge, his wife stepped in and claimed the whole collection as her dowry, and the Marquis was let off with the present of a piece of tapestry. The chapel was fitted up at the expense of the President of the Council of Castile; the Infante Fernando continued to send beautiful objects, many of them spoils of war from Flanders; Olivares' brother-in-law Monterey had to surrender much of the vast store of pictures he had collected at Naples; and all the painters in Madrid were kept busy copying or designing canvasses for the new palace,[[18]] under the direction of the King's painter, Don Diego Velazquez, who, having returned from his long visit to Rome, was now, and had been for the last three years, again working indefatigably in his studio in the old Alcazar.

This, indeed, was the period when the great artist produced some of the best of his work, such as the Surrender of Breda (the Lanzas), the portraits of the child Prince Baltasar Carlos, the fine portrait of Olivares reproduced in this book, and the famous equestrian portrait of Philip himself. In the midst of all the growing national trouble, this in many respects was the most brilliant and perhaps the happiest time of Philip's reign, so far as he personally was concerned. His habits were fixed and his pleasures keen. His fits of contrition were frequent, it is true; but they were always banished by fresh pleasures or amours contrived by Olivares. The King intermittently attended to State business himself; but the interminable discussions and reports by the various Councils upon every subject made the despatch of business peculiarly irksome and tedious. The Spanish system of a consultative and deliberative bureaucracy, indeed, seemed specially devised to disgust anyone but a patient laborious plodder like Philip II. His grandson, impatient of detail and quick of apprehension, loathed the dull pompous discussions of the Councils, and not unnaturally was content to hear a summary of results from Olivares, whose final decision he always confirmed.

Philip's domestic life

Philip's domestic life at this time had every reason to be happy, though the growing tension between his wife and Olivares had to some extent estranged them, and the Queen was, under the influence of the minister, somewhat ostentatiously excluded from public business, not unnaturally to her annoyance. She was, however, a good wife, and shared Philip's frequent pleasures gaily, whilst in devotion of the peculiar Spanish type she was even more emphatic than he. She had a woman's reason for her dislike of Olivares, as well as the political objections to him which were the ultimate cause of his fall. It has already been mentioned that in pursuance of his system of doing everybody's work, the minister had taken under his care the management of the King's affairs of gallantry, and the results thereof. This, of course, was perfectly well known to the Queen, and the satirical poets who wrote so copiously of frailty in high places took care to publish the fact. Even Hopton, when in a gossiping mood, referred to it more than once. Speaking of the skits that were current about Olivares and the new palace, he wrote: "He (Olivares) hath had likewise some harsh words with the Admiral for speaking to the King in disparagement of his new house; and the Queen hath had her little saying to him also, for some opinion she had of some secret pleasures there brought to the King."

Whatever may have been the sum of Philip's infidelities, and it cannot be denied that they were numerous, they were never more than temporary and vulgar intrigues, which, whilst they would naturally annoy his wife, did not threaten her permanent influence or interfere with her continuous marital life with her husband. With monotonous regularity almost every year the Queen gave birth to a child, usually a girl, whose advent was an excuse for the customary series of costly festivities so often described in earlier pages, festivities that in most cases lasted almost as long as the life of the child whose advent they greeted; for all the infants up to this time (1634) had died except the sturdy, promising little Baltasar Carlos, who was idolised by his father and mother, and, so far as the oppressive etiquette of the Court would allow, was petted by the whole Court. The little Prince who was born in 1629, had early developed a love for horsemanship and field sports, and as a baby horseman, hunter, or soldier, he is presented to the life again and again by Velazquez. From Flanders his admiring uncle Fernando sent him many presents, beautiful armour and weapons in miniature, which now adorn the rich Armeria in Madrid, martial toys, and above all in 1633 what afterwards became the Prince's favourite steed, a "little devil of a stallion pony," as the Infante calls him, that had to be lashed liberally before Baltasar Carlos was allowed to mount him.[[19]]

The Portuguese problem

The limited number of his near relatives had become a source of embarrassment to Philip. Of his two brothers, one, Carlos, had died, and the other, the Infante Cardinal Fernando, was in Flanders fighting and working heroically. There were no other Spanish relatives, but the heir Baltasar Carlos and the beautiful illegitimate son Juan, now growing into a handsome, clever lad in the secluded castle of Ocaña, whilst the German archdukes had drifted farther and farther from Spain, as had the Savoy Princes. It had always been the policy of the house of Austria to keep the Spanish nobles powerless in the Peninsula. They might command Spanish armies abroad and act as viceroys across the seas, but were never to be trusted with executive power in the realms of Spain; and it had become increasingly difficult, now that the nobles of the outer realms had grown distrustful of Olivares, to find men of the respective provinces who were of sufficient rank and could be trusted to govern the non-Castilian territories in the name of the King. The principal difficulty was in Portugal, where the widest autonomy, and every possible guarantee against Spanish oppression, had been granted by Philip II. But, as we have seen, the tendency for a long time past, and especially under Olivares, had been to curtail the rights enjoyed by Portugal since the union of the crowns.

The promise that none but Portuguese should rule in the country had been disregarded almost from the first in the appointment of Viceroys. The Austrian nephew, the Archduke Albert, had reigned under Philip II.; and Moura, the wise half-Portuguese minister of Philip II., had ruled Portugal for years under his son. But to appoint a Portuguese noble now, with Olivares' known policy, would have been highly dangerous, and the Portuguese would hardly have stood a Spanish noble, even if Philip had dared to appoint one. The policy of conciliation that Philip II. had adopted had left the house of Braganza, which had a better claim to the Portuguese crown than Philip, richer and more powerful than most sovereigns. The reigning Duke of Braganza had married a sister of the Spanish Duke of Medina Sidonia, the head of the Guzmans, of which house Olivares was a cadet; and in normal circumstances Braganza might have been the ideal man for Viceroy. But the circumstances were not normal. The deepest discontent reigned in the country at the ruin that had befallen its trade in consequence of its union with Spain, and especially at the new taxation for Spanish objects proposed at the bidding of Olivares; and a subject so powerful and so popular as Braganza was naturally suspect. The difficulty was met at the end of 1634 by going somewhat far afield for a ruler of Portugal. The younger daughter of Philip II., the Infanta Catharine, had married Carlo Emmanuele, Duke of Savoy, in 1585; and one of their daughters, Princess Margaret, the widowed and dispossessed Duchess of Mantua, a first cousin of Philip, was brought to Spain to govern Portugal,—the idea being that, as she was a lady and a foreigner, she would be a safe and obedient instrument in the hands of Olivares. In November 1634 she entered Madrid in great state, and at the bull-fights and other festivities held to celebrate her coming she sat by the side of Philip and his Queen, which the Madrileños thought a great and unusual honour, accorded in order to give her higher prestige and authority before she set out for her fateful government, a figurehead for Olivares' attempts against Portuguese autonomy.

Catalonia

Catalonia was more uneasy even than Portugal. There had been a talk all the summer of the King's going thither to ask for more money, and the Catalans were in anger at the very idea. So great was the ill-feeling, that the Viceroy, the Duke of Cardona, a humble servant of Olivares, thought it safer to keep out of the way of his subjects; and the Castilian soldiers were daggers-drawn with the people, in whose houses they were billeted, in defiance of the Catalonian constitution.

The growing danger from these provinces, and the busy intrigues of Richelieu with the Dutch, to the intended detriment of Spain, again drove Olivares to seek a renewal of the suspended negotiations intended to draw Charles I. into the Catholic camp. At the end of July, Olivares sent for Hopton in great excitement, to show him an intercepted letter of the Prince of Orange, which, he said, disclosed a dangerous plan against England and Spain. "Ah!" said the Count-Duke, "we ought to have carried out that league of ours." "It was your fault," replied Hopton, "that it was not concluded. Nicolalde in London was not authorised to give the necessary pledges." "Well," retorted. Olivares, "the matter may be arranged now, if you like." The hint was enough for Charles. The first thing, he said, was to get rid of Nicolalde, who was unsympathetic; and he sent an English agent named Taylor to Madrid to recommend this course to Philip.

Soon negotiations were in full swing again. Some great personage, the Count of Humanes probably, was to be sent to England, whilst the Duke of Medina Celi was to go to France, and endeavour to secure the return of Marie de Medici the Queen-Mother and her son Orleans to France, which of course would have meant the paralysation of Richelieu. When the news came of the decisive battle of Nördlingen (page 260), gained over the Swedes and Weimar by the Infante Fernando, the great rejoicings and festivities with which Philip greeted the victory (October 1634), the bonfires and bull-fights and Te Deums, did not disguise the fact that war with France sooner or later must now be inevitably faced, and the efforts to come to an agreement with England proceeded more warmly than ever.

The agreement with Charles I.

In October, at length, Windebank sent to Madrid the draft of the agreement, and one stands aghast at the unwisdom of Charles and his secret advisers, in thus showing willingness to betray the Protestant cause at the hollow charming of Olivares. England was to provide twenty ships of at least 400 tons each, ostensibly to protect the coast of England and Ireland; but as soon as the fleet was at sea, notice was to be given to the Dutch in the form of an ultimatum to surrender to Spain, or the English would attack them. Spain was nominally to lend, but really to give, to Charles 200,000 crowns, and 100,000 a month for every month the fleet was at sea.[[20]] When Hopton saw Philip with this draft, and as usual raised the question of the Palatinate as a pendant to the Agreement, only evasive answers were given to him, and again the negotiations flagged, whilst desperate efforts were made in Spain itself to force the nobles to raise and arm soldiers to take the field against France when the expected war should begin in the spring.

But whilst Olivares was thus striving to obtain at least the neutrality of England on the easiest terms for Spain, there was other diplomacy at work at least as profound and more generous than his. The battle of Nördlingen had broken up the effective league between Sweden and the German Protestants, and John Frederick of Saxony, with the other German Lutherans, soon made terms of compromise with the Emperor, by which they gained the toleration they sought, and the Thirty Years' War came to an end, so far as the religious struggle in Germany was concerned. But the far-reaching schemes of Richelieu would have been frustrated if the war had ended here, leaving Spain free from the drain of helping the Emperor; for then she would have had power to deal with Holland effectually, and re-establish her waning hold over Italy to the injury of France. So, as war with Spain was necessary for Richelieu, he took good care to isolate his opponent before it began. He first effected an alliance with the United Provinces, and intrigued in Catholic Flanders with the nobles. Then he drew into his net Savoy, Mantua, and Parma; he occupied the Valtelline again, and Sweden was coupled to the car of France anew by Axenstiern, whilst, as a last stroke, he strove hard to include Charles I. in his league with the Dutch.

The intrigue with England

At the end of 1634, Olivares sent to Hopton in a great fright at news that he had heard, to the effect that Charles I. had joined France and Holland in their league; and bitter complaints were made of the treatment of Spanish cruisers in English ports and in the Channel. In one case a Dutch prize had actually been taken away from the Spanish captors by English vessels, and brought into Dover. What was the meaning of it? asked Olivares in a towering rage. Was the King of England going to throw them over after all? A mention of the Palatinate only made him more furious still. Thus the bickering and bargaining went on all through the year 1635; Hopton urging Olivares to send some news worth the carrying by Taylor to London about the Palatinate, and the Count-Duke wrangling over the details of the agreement about the subsidy to England, which he swore that Charles had altered without consultation with Nicolalde. "He (Olivares) is in a good humour now," wrote Hopton on one occasion; "but he is of a most dangerous nature, to which we shall always be subject as long as the business of the Palatinate shall last."

At length, when Olivares had exhausted the possibilities of prevarication in Madrid, the secret draught agreement was sent back to London for further discussion and amendment, and the continued neutrality of England at least was secured for another breathing space. One is struck with positive admiration for the masterly way in which, with this stale bait of the Palatinate, England was beguiled by Olivares from year to year, and prevented from joining the enemies of Spain. Richelieu had been bidding for English aid or benevolent neutrality too, and this was a chance which, if Charles had possessed any statesmanship worthy of the name, or any national ambition apart from the advantage of his dynasty, might have enabled England to play the part of the arbiter in Europe. But, as usual, the chance was missed by the instability of Charles, and when the cloud of war burst in the spring of 1635, the negotiations between London and Madrid were still dragging on. There was a talk at one time of a partition of the Spanish Netherlands between France and Holland after they should have been conquered, and this made Charles more eager than ever for the alliance with Spain to prevent such an eventuality, whilst both Olivares and Richelieu were glad to keep him wavering with insincere negotiations. His own condition, moreover, in England was already becoming difficult; for he had levied the ship money, and had taken the first fatal step by deciding to dispense with his Parliament; so that a strong ally with ready money was desirable to him.

Windebank wrote to Hopton on 27th May 1635:

"The French ambassador is pressing King Charles very hard to make a league with them; and it is not the fault of the Spaniards that it is not already concluded, for they are going the right way to thrust us upon the French, though they cannot send a letter or pass an ambassador without us. This is a strange fascination, and they deserve to smart for it, as they will dearly if Dunkirk be besieged and his Majesty help them not."[[21]]

A little later Hopton writes: "Their (the Spaniards) only hope for Flanders and at sea is the friendship of our King. And yet they retain their gravity, as if they were the arbiters of the world. I saw the Conde yesterday, and, though he was a little troubled, yet he is very confident that all would end to their honour."

The conclusion of the precious alliance with King Charles had evidently at last to be carried through, or further delayed, by more highly-placed ambassadors than Hopton and Nicolalde; and it was decided that Sir Walter Aston should go to Madrid and the Count of Humanes to London. Olivares was, or pretended to be, apprehensive of the coming of a new English ambassador, but was assured by Hopton that Sir Walter was all that could be desired from the Spanish point of view. Humanes, on the other hand, was reported to be "an honest gentleman, but with a good enough conceipt of himself. Thinking to get great things, he will be a little hard to deal with in England." But the seas were crowded with Dutch and French cruisers, and the land route through France was of course closed to Spaniards, so it was a difficult thing to get Humanes to England at all, unless he went back in the English ship that brought Aston. And so month after month of 1635 slipped by, the war proceeding actively in Flanders against the Infante Cardinal, and the French troops threatening Catalonia from Perpignan, whilst the English treaty with Spain was still on the balance. Hopton, in June 1635, told Olivares that this coldness and delay in his proceeding was producing a bad effect in England, and that unless they stirred themselves King Charles might look elsewhere. "Upon what ground do you say that," asked Olivares. "Upon Nicolalde's way of proceeding, and the delay that is taking place. It makes us think that the whole thing is a pretence," replied Hopton. "Everything is now practically settled with very few alterations, and there need be no more delay," Olivares assured him.

In July alarming news came to Madrid, that the Infante Cardinal had sustained severe defeat in the Low Countries (at Tirlemont), and was in personal danger. The Infante was intensely beloved in Spain, and the evil tidings "caused great care to their Majesties and the whole Court, for I cannot express what tenderness all sorts of people show to the Infante," wrote Hopton; and, almost for the first time, Philip flew into a violent rage with Olivares, when he learnt that a letter written by the Infante, asking for further resources, had been concealed from him. Olivares found himself faced now, as he had never been before, by a determination on the part of Philip to act in opposition to his advice. Philip had no lack of personal courage, and under stress was capable of prolonged exertion. He was burning, too, to distinguish himself in arms, as his brother had done; and, urged thereto by many of Olivares' enemies, he was insistent in his wish to lead his armies in person on the Catalonian frontier, now threatened by the French. Olivares, knowing that if the King were in the field he could not keep him isolated, or hope to retain his exclusive hold upon him, resisted the King's desire to the utmost, and almost daily squabbles took place between them on the subject.

The plot thickens

It was clear now to Olivares that the aid of English ships in the Channel was really in the circumstances desirable for the success of Spain in Flanders. The road through Lombardy had been rendered difficult by the adhesion of the several Italian princes to Richelieu's league, and the war that was proceeding on the Rhine; and the sea route was equally dangerous by reason of the Dutch and French squadrons. So the Count-Duke made another desperate attempt to buy Charles Stuart cheaply, and on trust. Late in July 1635, Olivares sent a very pressing message to Hopton that he wanted to see him, and when the ambassador presented himself in the palace, the Count-Duke asked him if he had a confidential English servant he could lend him, to hurry off to England at once with despatches for Nicolalde in London. "Yes," replied Hopton, "my man David Matthew will serve your turn"; and before many hours had passed David Matthew was speeding on his way to London, with instructions to the Spanish agent that the maritime treaty was to be settled at all costs. The question of the Palatinate, Olivares told Hopton again, should really be settled now, though, not unnaturally, Hopton had his doubts; for he knew secretly that the rebel Earl of Tyrone had been brought disguised to Madrid by the Emperor's ambassador, and was plotting even then with Olivares to raise sedition in Ireland if King Charles turned to the side of the French.

Nicolalde in London still went no further than amiable speeches; but at least Olivares' urgency had the effect of deciding Charles to send Sir Walter Aston to Spain, though poor Humanes died in Madrid, whilst still waiting for a ship to carry him, and was replaced as ambassador in London by Count de Oñate, much to Hopton's delight, who looked upon the appointment of so highly placed a personage as a great compliment. "For what he cannot do, nobody can. He is very honest, but somewhat hasty. In any case it is good to be rid of Nicolalde, who hates us." Aston, when he arrived at Corunna in September 1635, was received with ostentatious warmness; and it was evident that his coming meant more than the mere ratification of a treaty already nearly concluded. Cottington sent by him what he calls "a merry letter" to Olivares, to tell him "how French I have become, for the Queen (Henrietta Maria) dined with me at Hanworth awhile since, and not long after the new French ambassadors, who now are become my friends, after complaining to the King of my ill affection to their master's service, calling me Conde de Olivares." It is plain that Sir Francis Cottington's "merriment" was intended to convey a hint that unless Olivares was really prompt this time in closing the deal, Charles would go over to the French. Hopton was hopeful but doubtful of Aston's better success than his own, for he knew that the Palatinate still stood in the way, and that Catholic Philip could never force the Emperor to restore it to a Protestant. "I believe they wish for a close union," he wrote, when he was leaving to return to England, "and this King might revoke the impediment if he liked, but I shall never be convinced he will do it till he comes to the point."[[22]]

Money, as usual, was the great desideratum for Philip, if the war was to be carried on with hope of success. Cortes were summoned both in Castile and Barcelona, and the former, as usual, did as they were asked, and voted 3 million ducats for the year;[[23]] Olivares having at the time laid by, as we are told, no less than 8 millions, "which he will make 16 before the war begins in earnest." Spain was fortunate that year 1635, too, with the Indies fleet, which arrived in June with 14 millions of ducats, "of which the greater part will reach the King, besides the good profit he will get out of the confiscations." The Cortes of Barcelona was, as always, difficult to deal with; and for a time they were obstinate in their refusal to vote anything at all. But it was their own country now that was threatened, and on the promise of the King to relieve them from the levy of men for his armies, the Cortes of Catalonia agreed to vote him 400,000 ducats, and promised as much more as they could afford.

Philip's revolt

Philip's great dispute with Olivares was with regard to his wish to visit Barcelona during the session of the Cortes, and to remain there with his army, ready to lead it either to Italy, France, or elsewhere, as the events of the war might demand. The favourite was shocked at the King being exposed to such danger, and especially at the idea that he might leave the country; and he opposed with all his experience and authority the King's plan. "If Olivares can hinder the King from engaging his person he will do so. He pretends to give way, so as not to cross the King, who is set upon it, but he will not fail of ways to compass that which he wishes."[[24]] But though Olivares was determined, Philip was obstinate; and when the minister, as was his wont, told the King that the Council of State was opposed to his going, Philip addressed a rescript to the Council, ordering them to discuss and vote on the question of his going, but that every Councillor should give his reasons individually to him for the advice he tendered. This was not in accordance with the usual procedure, and under Olivares' guidance the Council declined to do it, saying that the Count-Duke's knowledge of their opinions was so complete that he would report them to the King. It appears that Philip had given peremptory orders to Olivares to make every preparation for his immediate departure, and this was the subject submitted by the minister to the Council for discussion. With the arrogant Count-Duke dominating them, the Councillors, who were all his humble servants, of course agreed with him against the King. Money was short, they said, for the journey; and the recent successes in Flanders might perhaps make the voyage unnecessary. In any case, they begged the King not to undertake the matter lightly. Philip made the best of this halting dissent, replying that he accepted the advice as to not going for the moment, but ordered that everything should be made ready for his going at twenty days' notice if it became necessary.[[25]]

Continued decadence

In the meanwhile the never-ending trivial show of Madrid went on. The idlers still paraded up and down the Calle Mayor or gossiped on Liars' Walk for the greater part of the day. Philip issued ferocious but ineffective pragmatics against extravagance in dress and household appointments;[[26]] both the public playhouses were filled, and the comedies applauded by eager crowds as usual. But, on the other hand, famine had laid its grisly hand everywhere on the arid lands of Castile, the excise had been increased until even in the capital itself starvation was not a threat but a reality; the ecclesiastical revenues were drained as they had never been drained before, and salaries, pensions, and State debts were either not paid at all or else ruinously curtailed. In Madrid, penury was now evident even amongst the better classes;[[27]] and Philip, who always lived frugally in his own person, was obliged to write to his brother Fernando, begging him to save to the utmost: not to allow his household to wear other than plain cloth, and not to spend a ducat unnecessarily.

Spanish troops were fighting under the Infante for the preservation of Flanders, in Germany, in Italy, in the Valtelline, wherever the enemies of the faith or the allies of Richelieu defied the Spanish claims; and yet it never entered the head, apparently, either of Olivares or his master, that these terrible sacrifices were useless to Spain; except that it was a point of honour to hold the Catholic States of Flanders that had been the ancient inheritance of its royal house. Holland was really lost beyond all recovery, though the stiff-necked pride of Castile would not acknowledge it; the religious question in Germany had already practically settled itself, and had left Spain hardly an excuse for fighting for orthodoxy there. All that was needed, even now, for Spain was to eat her unavoidable leek, to recognise facts patent to all the world, and to abandon her impossible pretensions; and peace with France and Holland might have been attained with ease. But through all the suffering and stress, that if continued meant national exhaustion, there was no indication anywhere of the conviction that Spain must voluntarily humble herself or bleed to death.

Court diversions

The process of social decadence had gone on apace, as was inevitable in such circumstances. scandals were of constant occurrence. At the end of 1635, when the grave matters referred to were under discussion, two nobles, the Marquis del Aguila and Don Juan de Herrera, came to blows with each other in the theatre of the Buen Retiro Palace, in the presence of the King himself;[[28]] and whilst they fled from justice, a greater noble still, the Count of Sastago, Captain of the King's Guard, was accused of inciting them to the disturbance. As was invariably the case, no sooner was one offence mentioned than a dozen were added to it. The Count, it was said, had sold the sergeancy of the guard for 1100 ducats; the provedor of the guard paid him fifty reals every day, filched from the mess bill; he ill-treated his wife, ... and much else of the same sort; and as soon as Count de Sastago was under lock and key for these offences, no less than three other noble Counts were competing and quarrelling with each other for his place as Captain of the Guard;[[29]] whilst, a few days afterwards, Zapata, the Lieutenant of the Guard, was carried to prison for making a disturbance at the entrance of the palace, and breaking down the barriers to get in, against the royal orders, whilst Prince Baltasar Carlos was coming out.

On New Year's Eve 1636, we are told, "their Majesties went to dine at the Buen Retiro, where there was in the afternoon a sort of comedy or festival never seen before in Spain. First there appeared the poet Atillano, who has come from the Indies, and who may justly be called a prodigy of the world, as he proved himself to be on this occasion; for such is his poetic rage, that he utters a perfect torrent of Castilian verse on any subject proposed to him,[[30]] and, withal, in very remarkable style, with much taste and adornments from the Scriptures and classical authors, brought in most aptly, with comparisons, emphasis, digressions, and poetic figures, which strike his hearers with astonishment, many believing that it can only be done by devilish arts, for he never drops a foot or forgets a syllable.... After Atillano came Cristobal, the blind man, well known at Court; and he also showed his skill in turning out couplets impromptu, with his usual prettiness and propriety, and quite in courtier-like fashion. But as he lacks erudition, and the other man possesses much, you may well imagine the difference between them. After the poets came Calabaza, the dwarfs, the little negro, and the girls they call the Count's wrigglers;[[31]] and they represented their figures and played a hundred monkey tricks to raise a laugh. Afterwards the party ended by a ball and masquerade. It was very good and diverting; and my lady Countess of Olivares gave the collation to their Majesties."

Progress of the war

The year thus fittingly begun in the Court was signalised by the Cardinal Infante Fernando in Flanders and France by military capacity which recalled the great days of the Emperor a hundred years before. The French and Dutch allies were already suspicious of each other, and were not co-operating cordially; so that Fernando had been able to wear out the resistance of the French without a general engagement, and whilst they, disorganised and decimated with famine and disease, retreated into France, the Infante overran Picardy and Champagne. He pushed his advance beyond the Somme and to the banks of the Oise, threatening Paris itself, and elated Olivares planned a simultaneous invasion of France under the Admiral of Castile, and yet another from the side of Germany over the frontier of Burgundy. The only one of these attacks that came to anything was that of the Cardinal Infante; but even he, either from want of resources or lack of boldness, lagged on the line of the Somme and Oise until the French had recovered from their panic. Orange was also marching to aid his ally, and Paris had raised a great army of citizens to resist further attack; and early in 1637 the Spaniards, under the Cardinal Infante, had retreated into Flanders again, forced once more to stand on the defensive. But the net result of the temporary display of Spanish vigour had been to free the Catalonian frontier from imminent fears from the French, and Philip had found no excuse for insisting further upon his desire to place himself in command of his troops in Barcelona.

A perusal of the gossiping newsletters of the times, though, of course, much that they record is merely trivial, throws a lurid light upon the utterly lawless condition of the capital at this grave juncture, when the nation was supposed to be straining every nerve to prevent humiliation at the hands of its implacable enemy. It would be profitless to give details of all, or of any large number, of the scandals mentioned by the chroniclers from day to day; but as a specimen a few entries belonging to this year 1636 will give an idea of the state of affairs in Philip's Court at the time. In January, Don Antonio Oquendo, the famous naval commander, was at Mass in the church of Buen Suceso,[[32]] when a challenge to immediate combat was brought from the rival admiral Nicholas Spinola. Oquendo just gave himself time to confess, and then met his opponent, both being mounted and armed with knives. One of the combatants was wounded before the passers-by could interfere, and the other fled to hiding.[[33]]

A turbulent capital

A day or two later, proclamation was made in the streets that the King ordered all the Portuguese murderers in Madrid to leave within a week, or they would be apprehended and sent before the judges, who Were considering their cases. "The intention of this," sapiently says the chronicler, "appears to be that they may thus be forced to enlist as soldiers, and the pragmatic with regard to the number of lackeys allowed had a similar object." At the same time a scandalous quarrel was going on between the officers of the Inquisition and the alcaldes of the Court, or judges of first instance, on some trivial point of etiquette, but which ended in wholesale excommunication of all the alcaldes in a body, and several inferior officers on both sides being condemned and imprisoned by the rival authorities. In the summer another panic occurred in the Church of St. Philip and on Liars' Walk, because a heretic shouted some sacrilegious words in the church; and soon afterwards an offended soldier murdered by a pistol shot a gentleman named Bilbao on the steps leading to the crowded atrium of the church, the most frequented spot in Madrid.

On the 28th July there was a great bull-fight in the Plaza Mayor, which had attracted a vast concourse of people, as the bulls were said to have been unusually savage. They must have been so, for several men were killed; but worse than this, daggers were drawn and a slashing match commenced under the King's very eyes. Philip, outraged at such disrespect, ordered the offenders to be arrested. They were handed by the alguacils to the Archers of the Guard, from whom they managed to escape. Philip quite lost his temper at this, which he very rarely did, and rose wrathfully to leave the arena. The Queen pulled him by the cloak, and coaxed him into sitting again whilst two more bulls and many horses were done to death. But the King was still unappeased, and as he went out past the Archers of the Guard he told them "that they had managed it very nicely. Why were they Archers, he wondered, and what were they paid for?" the matter ending in mutual recriminations between the Archers and the alguacils, and the punishment of the former.

Matrimonial scandals succeeded each other daily in the Newsletters, and the highest names in the Court are treated with the utmost scurrility in this particular; whilst accusations of corruption on the part of judicial authorities and priests are quite as common. The authorities whose duty it was to keep order appear to have been as lawless as the rest of the citizens. The Corregidor[[34]] (Governor of Madrid) had occasion in October to call upon the King's upholsterer and valet de chambre, who was also captain of a newly raised company of militia. The soldiers in his courtyard, for some reason not stated, snatched the Corregidor's wand of office from the page who carried it, and, having broken it, belaboured the boy's back with it. The Corregidor, offended in his dignity, told the soldiers angrily that he was a member of the Council of War, and their master; whereupon one of the men-at-arms thrust his pike against the august breast of the Corregidor, and threatened to kill him. Upon this a free fight took place between the alguacils in attendance on the Corregidor and the soldiers, and after much uproar one of the soldiers was overpowered and borne off in triumph by the alguacils to the prison of the municipality, "notwithstanding that it was the feast day of our seraphic father St. Francis." The Corregidor lost no time, but sat in judgment at once, and of course found the soldier guilty. But before the trial was done a great rabble of soldiers assembled outside the Guildhall (Casa de la Villa) to rescue their comrade from the hands of justice. The town officers read an order from the balcony that every soldier was immediately to withdraw, and the stout-hearted Corregidor himself arrested the ringleader, and, kicking and cuffing, thrust him into a cell. That afternoon the Corregidor accompanied the first offender through the streets of Madrid, whilst 200 strokes of the lash were administered on the poor soldier's bare back, and when the Corregidor returned to the Guildhall he stood by whilst the other offender was tortured on the rack. Out of this arose a quarrel royal between the Council of War, who took the soldiers' part, and the Royal Council, who were for the civil authorities; and for weeks afterwards recriminations and punishments were abundantly exchanged.

There was, indeed, in all spheres a shocking absence of real dignity and restraint. Crimes of the most horrible description are mentioned as being prevalent in the better classes;[[35]] and after the first outcry they were allowed to go almost unpunished and unchecked. As may be supposed, in such a state of society superstition of the grossest description was common. The proceedings of the miracle-working nun of Carrion, to whom, it will be recollected, the Infanta Maria had recommended the Prince of Wales, had become so notorious that the Inquisition had taken her in hand, and condemned her as a witch and an impostor. But this appears only to have increased her fame for sanctity, for several books in her praise were burnt by the Inquisition, and every measure taken to expose her frauds by the Holy Office; but with so little effect, that after her death, early in 1637, an edict was read in every church in Madrid pronouncing major excommunication against all those who retained images, portraits, signatures, crosses, certificates, beads, or books relating to her.[[36]] When the Marquis of Aitona was unwilling to start from Madrid to take up the governorship of Milan in the spring of 1636, and delayed his departure from week to week, a fresh pretext for delay, and one generally praised, was that it would be most unwise for him to leave Madrid on the Ides of March, because it was the anniversary of the murder of Cæsar.

General lawlessness

The lawlessness was not confined even to grown people, but extended to children. It appears that late in 1636 a pragmatic had been drafted, but not yet officially promulgated, decreeing that no man in future might wear in Madrid the long wisp of hair before the ears (guedejas) that had recently become the fashion; and women were strictly forbidden to appear in the strange farthingales or very wide hoop skirt, flattened back and front, called guardainfantes; "although," says the chronicler, "it has not yet been proclaimed, the boys are already hunting women who wear guardainfantes as if they were cows, hissing and whistling at them, and insulting them dreadfully. To such a length has this insolence been carried, that mounted alguacils have been posted to prevent violence, two boys having been killed in the street last Thursday by attendants upon the women, who had turned upon the boys."[[37]]

Whilst Olivares bore upon his bowed shoulders the whole burden of government, resorting to the most empirical means to raise money, such as calling in the copper coin and restamping it to three times its former value,[[38]] the King had to be distracted and kept amused by never-ending entertainments, such as those that have been described in former pages.[[39]] Hardly a week passed without some pretext for a long series of such shows, which now usually took place at the favourite Buen Retiro. Aston, in one of his letters to Coke in May 1636,[[40]] describes the festivities of Whitsuntide that year.

"Three days of noble feasting," he calls it; "the first day a masquerade on horseback, in the evening, and bull-fights on the other two days, with cane tourneys. I was invited to all of them, and had the particular honour on the first night to be placed in a balcony in the King's own apartments with the grandees; this being an unusual honour. On the other days I occupied a special balcony with my own people. When the welcome news of the Cardinal Infante's victories in Picardy came to Madrid late in September 1636, the rejoicings were frantic. His Majesty and all the Court rode to Our Lady of Atocha to give thanks.... They returned at night through the streets, illuminated by countless torches; all the Councils having been ordered to make a celebration in honour of the occasion, they all complied famously, and with great sumptuousness, each feast having cost 2000 ducats, and others are yet to come which will surpass them all."[[41]]

Continual festivities

A few weeks later, an excuse was found in the expected arrival in Madrid of the French Bourbon Princess of Carignano, wife of Prince Thomas of Savoy, who was fighting for the Spanish under the Cardinal Infante, and it was determined that in her honour the Buen Retiro should surpass itself. Before the Princess had even embarked for Spain, the great preparations were begun "to finish the new arena at the Buen Retiro. Experts have been despatched to the country around Madrid to obtain the 80,000 planks which will be needed for the barriers that are to surround it. The work is going on so actively, both in levelling the ground and erecting the woodwork, that there is no cessation, even on Sunday or feast days; and the Corregidor has erected there a scaffolding with a (neck) ring to punish the workmen who do not complete their task properly, as an example to the others. A triumphal car is also being made, of which the cover alone is to cost 4000 ducats; and it will be enclosed in glass, in order that the inside may look more beautiful."[[42]]

Another fine feast is described by Aston in June 1636. Writing to Coke, he says:

"The King and Queen retired to Buen Retiro to enjoy the curious gardens and new waterworks contrived by Olivares, and a great variety of festivals. One on Midsummer night was of the greatest ostentation and curiosity I have ever seen in my life. I had the honour to be invited to it, and had extraordinary favour and respect shown in the place that was given to me. The entertainment was a play that was made on purpose to be acted by the three several companies of players of this town, the intention whereof was so good; the place where it was acted being set out with three several scenes of much ostentation, and the disposition of the lights so full of novelty and delight, that I am highly tempted to give your honour a larger description of it, but that it would prove to be business enough for a large letter."[[43]]

It was not all feasting and play-going for Sir Walter Aston at the historic "house with the seven chimneys." When he arrived to replace Arthur Hopton, early in 1636, the famous agreement between Philip and Charles was still uncompleted, and the complaints of the English shipmasters against Spanish oppression were louder and more insistent than ever. Tyrone and the Desmonds were in Madrid negotiating for the raising of fresh Catholic Irish regiments for the Spanish service, and urging Philip to make no terms about the Palatinate unless Charles would restore the lands of O'Neill. But the aid of an English fleet in the Channel became more and more desirable to Spain as the war went on; and it was clear that the old vague promises and smiling plausibilities of Olivares had at last lost their efficacy with Charles. An instructive light is thrown upon the methods by which Olivares still strove to cope with the situation, by an original holograph letter in the Record Office[[44]] from Olivares' confidential secretary Rojas, to the imperial ambassador in Madrid, asking him by King Philip's orders to "give some words of hope to the English ambassador about the Palatinate." "It is of the utmost importance that we should make use of all such expedients as present themselves; as it appears that the King of England is extremely busy preparing a powerful fleet to be used to the detriment of this Crown, ... probably against Brazil, in co-operation with the Hollanders."

On the 18th June 1636, Olivares wrote a serious letter to Aston, evidently intended to bring affairs to a crisis. He, Olivares, had news, he said, of a design of a French naval attack on the English coast. Aston replied coolly that he had no doubt due measures would be taken in England to repel any attempt; but in the subsequent interview he succeeded "in persuading," as he says, "the Conde to assent to the terms for the co-operation of the English fleet, and Count de Oñate was instructed to start for England at once. They are really trying to prove that they desire the King of England's friendship. Indeed, in the present state of things it is needful for them, and I hope our King will make wise use of the opportunity."[[45]] But, withal, the Palatinate, which was the question nearest to Charles's heart, was still left open, though Arundel in Vienna was pushing the point there industriously, while the Palatine himself appealed personally to Philip by a letter which received no answer.

When Count de Oñate eventually presented himself before King Charles at Whitehall, the English King left no doubt that the Palatinate was uppermost in his mind. Speaking in Latin, he asked Oñate three questions—"Whether, having notice of the final answer of the Emperor to Arundel, he hath any power by way of interpretation or otherwise to qualify the said answer? Whether he hath power from the King of Spain to deliver to King Charles, or the Prince Elector, that part of the Lower Palatinate in his (Philip's) possession, and also by this mediation that part held by the Emperor? Whether he hath commission to set down in particular those conveniences that his father told Arundel the King of Spain would insist upon? Whether, in accordance with the assurance given by the English ambassador in Spain, King Charles may expect by him (Oñate) any more particular and full satisfaction than hath yet been delivered?"[[46]] Needless to say that Oñate had no clear answers to any of these questions, nor instructions to forward the matter of the Palatinate definitely; and once more discouragement fell upon those who had hoped to carry through the treaty.

Hopton, when he arrived in London and heard the news, wrote to Aston by Richard Fanshawe, who was on his way to Spain:

"A greater change has taken place in our purposes in the last month than in years before. Our eyes are now opened to the intention of the house of Austria to keep hold of the Palatinate. They must have a very mean opinion of us to treat our King with so little courtesy. If his Majesty gives way to the opinion of his subjects about the Palatinate, it will prove to Spain their error. It is incredible that they should act thus. They will certainly lose us if they be not careful." At the same time, the Spaniards were boasting in Madrid that "the Palatinate has been put to bed, and the King of England will not dare to break with us about it."

England again shelved

The need of Spain for English co-operation was now once again growing less urgent, for the star of Richelieu was temporarily dimmed. The coalition of the Italian princes against Spain had fallen to pieces, the Dukes of Mantua and Savoy died, and Parma was forced to submit to Spain. The Valtelline was retaken and occupied by the Spanish troops, and the Grisons conciliated; whilst Cardinal la Valette's campaign in 1637 against the Infante Cardinal partially failed. In Germany, too, the French were defeated all along the line, and, worst of all, France lost Alsace. Richelieu, moreover, was faced by the dangerous Court intrigues of Gaston of Orleans and his cousin Soissons, and half France was in smouldering revolt against the taxation imposed by the great Cardinal. The way across Lombardy and Tyrol to Germany and Flanders by land was now open to Spanish troops; and Olivares, having kept unstable Charles of England on the tenterhooks all these years with the bait of the Palatinate, could now snap his fingers at him, and for a time drop the mask.

[[1]] An attempt was made to enforce gifts of this donation from foreigners, and four English youths at Bilbao resisted, but on Hopton's representations they were exempt.

[[2]] In fact, a notification had been sent to the Pope that the Nuncio in future would be treated as any other ambassador, and the large revenue drawn by the Papacy from Spain would be in future taken by the King. Upon this the Nuncio was withdrawn, and much trouble ensued.

[[3]] Corner, the Venetian ambassador in Madrid, writing at the same period, says: "He (Olivares) is greatly hated both by the grandees and by the people of all classes, but nobody believes that he can be turned out of his place.... He is very austere and hard in his dealings with people, which causes great anger, and the murmurs against him are open and loud, even the preachers in the pulpits denouncing him; and everybody is saying that it is a wonder he can stand against it all."

[[4]] As if to silence these terrible hints, Olivares had at this time adopted an ostentatiously saintly mode of life. Corner speaks of him as living very quietly and in great melancholy since the death of his only daughter. "He professes to live in much piety and devotion, confessing and communicating every day. He has so many masses said daily, and to all appearance lives the life of a devotee. He has now begun to lie in a coffin in his chamber like a corpse, with tapers around him, whilst the de profundis is sung; whilst in ordinary affairs he talks like a capuchin friar, and speaks of the grandeur of this world with the greatest disdain."

[[5]] Hopton's MS. Notebook.

[[6]] Hopton, writing soon after this (January 1634), says the levies are going on very slowly. Yesterday a pragmatic was published limiting the number of lackeys and squires, all beyond that number are to be discharged, and so also are those employed in unnecessary trades, so that many will be at leisure to serve the King. But the pragmatics did not dare to attack the greater scandal of all, namely, the enormous number of ruffians who escaped all responsibility to the ordinary laws by becoming nominally "Familiars" of the Inquisition, or servants, in the broadest sense, to the religious communities.

[[7]] Hopton's MS. Notebook.

[[8]] This was an ancient Dominican religious house near the palace, at the corner of the present Cuesta de Santo Domingo in Madrid.

[[9]] Particulars of the case will be found in the contemporary MS., D. 150, Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid.

[[10]] On a portion of the site of the Buen Retiro the Countess of Olivares had formerly had an aviary with a collection of domestic poultry, in which she and her husband had taken great interest. The wits of the capital had dubbed the place "the hen-coop"; and the name was the peg upon which the satirists and poets hung their scurrilous gibes at the new palace. Corner, the Venetian ambassador at this time, writes: "The origin of the edifice has become a subject for great ridicule. The site was occupied by a collection of poultry the Countess had, and although the hens were curious and pretty of their sort, it was a source of much wonder and derision that the Count, who is occupied in such grave business, should have taken such interest in the hens.... Everybody calls it (the palace) the 'hen-coop,' and numberless pasquins have been written about it, even Cardinal Richelieu joking about the hens and the hen-coop to a secretary of the King (Philip) who was in Paris."

[[11]] Hopton's MS. Notebook. Corner also says that anybody who wished to stand well with Olivares hurried to send some precious thing to adorn the Buen Retiro.

[[12]] Ibid.

[[13]] Fernando was in Milan, and was already under orders to march to Flanders overland at this time.

[[14]] Hopton's MS. Notebook.

[[15]] Hopton's MS. Notebook.

[[16]] At this very period the great Don Fadrique de Toledo, son of the Duke of Alba, was in prison, the victim of Olivares' jealousy, and most of the grandees avoided Court as much as possible.

[[17]] Hopton's MS. Notebook.

[[18]] Carl Justi. Presents of paintings were also sent from England. Coke, for instance, sent, presumably from Charles I., a picture by Horatio Gentileschi as a present to King Philip. It is extraordinary to note in the correspondence of the English diplomatists at this period the constant mention of the sending of pictures to Spain, and vice versa, mostly for King Charles, but very often also for Lady Cottington. In May 1633, Hopton writes to Cottington the following reference to a painter sent to Madrid to copy pictures for Charles I., which I do not think has been noticed before. "The King's painter is sending some pieces. He is a very well governed young man and a good husband (i.e. a good manager of money), yet by reason of the dearenesse of this place, and being willing to live in so handsome a manner as a man sent by his Majesty, money goes away apace which I cannot remedy, because I doe not see that he can; but I conceive his Majesty will have a very good account of him, to whose service I perceive he hath wholly disposed himself." A little later we are told that "the King's painter hath fallen sick of a calenture, and grows worse. I am out of a great deal of money by him." Lady Cottington and others in England were constantly asking for Labrador's flower and fruit pieces to be sent to them, and purchases and exchanges of pictures are often spoken of for King Charles himself.

[[19]] The charming picture by Velazquez, here reproduced, represents the little Prince at about the age of nine on his pony galloping near the Pardo. There is another charming equestrian portrait of the Prince in the Duke of Westminster's collection, with Olivares in the background.

[[20]] Hopton's MS. Notebook.

[[21]] Hopton's MS. Notebook.

[[22]] It is curious that during all this period of great international anxiety and important negotiations, the talk about pictures is still constantly to be met with in the diplomatic correspondence. At one time, in June 1635, Suero de Quiñones wished to send two pictures as a present to King Charles. "I (Hopton) and King (Charles's) painter have seen them, and think they are good, particularly a Venus and Adonis of Luqueto. The other piece is by Tintoret. Suero de Quiñones is poor, but of quality. I know not why he should give his pictures away thus." But Quiñones, urged doubtless by poverty rather than his quality, did not give them away after all, and perhaps never intended to do so; for Hopton writes months afterwards: "Quiñones has played the knave, and sold his pictures." On another occasion (July of the same year), Hopton expresses his delight to Cottington that Labrador's paintings had come to hand at last. "The painter who made the landskips," he continues, "is now dead, and his pieces are much sought after and highly prized. I have a few of them and am using diligence to get some more, at your lordship's service. If the man had lived I think I had carried him with me to England; for he was grown much out of love with his own country, and was much my friend." MS. Notebook.

[[23]] After they had voted this usual 9 millions to extend over three years, the Cortes were thunderstruck in the following January 1636, by a demand of Olivares that they should vote an additional 13 millions. The members were all paid and submissive; but this was too much even for them. They flatly refused to vote the sum, which they said it was quite impossible for their constituents to pay. The royal Council then at once commenced criminal proceedings against them, whereupon the members prayed for time to consult their constituents, and orders were given by the Council to levy the 13 millions of necessary without the vote: to this abject state had representative institutions been reduced in the realms of Castile. See Danvila's Poder Civil en España, Documents, and Rodriguez Villa's Newsletters, 1636-37.

[[24]] Hopton to Coke, 13th June 1635. MS. Notebook.

[[25]] Council of State Deliberations of 19th November 1635. Danvila, El Poder Civil en España.

[[26]] There was one pragmatic which touched Madrid to the quick, namely, that which forbade the use of carriages except to a very few privileged people. So great was the outcry against this, that it was found to be impossible to enforce it, as the driving about in coaches was the main pleasure and amusement of every one who could afford it, and of many people who could not. Whilst, therefore, the pragmatic was rigidly enforced in the provincial capitals, licences were issued to anyone in Madrid to own a coach on payment of 100 ducats.—Rodriguez Villa's Newsletters, January 1636. Other pragmatics were issued at the time, regulating the courtesy titles, as it was found that too many people were calling themselves Lordship.

[[27]] In the Rodriguez Villa's Newsletters at this period, hardly a week passes without reference to the selling up of some nobleman's belongings for debt. One of the most ostentatious nobles in Madrid, the Marquis de las Navas, was soon after this fined for some offence, and as he had no money an execution was put in on his coaches and horses, which it was then found were not his own but hired; and his furniture and even the tapestries of his palace belonged to other people.

[[28]] Both of them got safe away abroad, and the Marquis del Aguila was condemned to death in his absence. Herrera subsequently issued a public challenge for the Marquis to meet Him and fight in Switzerland, and thus explains the affray. The Marquis, he asserts, said in the theatre that he was drunk, and though he made no reply to this, an hour afterwards he came behind him and struck him a great blow on the back of the neck. He (Herrera) then drew his sword, and he and the Marquis were both seized by the Guard.

[[29]] La Corte y Monarquia de España en 1636-1637, a series of newsletters written by an anonymous grandee in Madrid, edited by A. Rodriguez Villa.

[[30]] Philip had grown very fond of these tests of literary promptitude, at which he appears to have shone. In Morel Fatio's Espagne au XVI. et XVII. Siècle there is reproduced the programme of a great burlesque Academy of this sort, which took place at the Buen Retiro during the fetes of 1637. There are fourteen items for competition, of which the following are good specimens: A romance declaring which stomach is most to be envied, that which will digest great sorrows or great suppers. An epigram in two Castilian couplets, declaring which is the most foolish, to be a fool sometimes or to be always discreet. Sixteen roundels, about a procuress who was dying, much comforted that there were no proper men left in the world; and just as she is about to expire, a young man comes in whom she receives with delight, saying to him, "My friend, you are just in time; there are two beautiful lasses in there, as good as gold; one dark and the other fair." And as the youth was hesitating which to choose the expiring old woman cried, "My son; for heaven's sake take the dark one. This is no time for me to deceive people." The tale has been drawn out thus, because they say it is true.

[[31]] Las Sabandijas del Conde.

[[32]] This church was at the end of the Puerta del Sol, where the Hotel de Paris now stands.

[[33]] Oquendo, only a few weeks later, took command of the galleys at Cadiz to attack the French fleet, and received 200,000 ducats.

[[34]] This was the Count of Montalvo, who must have been more quarrelsome and punctilious than most of his compeers, for only a few weeks after the contention here described he had a violent quarrel with the Council of Castile, the supreme judicial authority, which ended in the Corregidor himself being imprisoned and heavily fined. It appears that he had ordered an alguacil to attend him, which the alguacil refused to do, as he was not under his jurisdiction. The Corregidor's answer was to cast the man into prison; whereupon the alguacil appealed to the President of the Council of Castile, who told the Corregidor that he had exceeded his powers. The touchy Corregidor in a rage burst out with: "A rebuke to me. By Christ's body, his Majesty the King has many ministers who do not know what they are doing." The scandalised president without more ado cast the Corregidor into prison, from which only after much trouble he was released.

[[35]] Particulars of these may be found in Rodriguez Villa's La Corte y Monarquia de España en 1636-1637, p. 50 and in Barrionuevo's Newsletters of a subsequent date. With regard to the period now under review (1636), one of the accused persons under torture was hastily taken down from the rack, "as he showed an intention of accusing half Madrid." On this occasion two obscure persons were burnt alive, but scores of aristocrats whose names are freely mentioned in the letters escaped with short banishment from Court or no punishment at all.

[[36]] It was afterwards stated that one bishop had surrendered thousands of the nun's letters to the Inquisition, and the Cura of Santa Cruz had "a room full of crosses, medals, images, and old rags belonging to her, whilst the Duke of Arschot had two thousand made specially to be blessed by her." Rodriguez Villa.

[[37]] Rodriguez Villa's Newsletter, October 1636.

[[38]] This, as Aston wrote, made gold and silver a mere merchandise. The pragmatics, it is true, fixed the premium on silver at 25 per cent., but it was at once raised in the open market to 34 per cent. and more, the resulting distress and dislocation of business being appalling. Aston to Coke, 29th May 1636. Record Office, S.P. Spanish MSS. 38.

[[39]] In April of this year, 1636, for instance, Philip for some reason or other was in depressed spirits on Sunday 26th, and was for a time secretly closeted in the chapel alone in prayer. At once, we are told, "great and sudden preparations were ordered to be made in the palace for comedies and interludes, and the comedians were warned to play as many buffooneries as they could to make his Majesty laugh." An account in MS. of all that happened in the Court from 1636 to 1642, Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, H. 33

[[40]] Record Office, S.P. Spanish MSS. 38

[[41]] Newsletter. Aston also describes the rejoicings on this occasion, and mentions that Philip "let fall some expressions of regret that his brother-in-law's affairs had fallen into such bad case." This was a curious expression, as the brother-in-law in question was the King of France, and it was Philip's own army that had put him "in bad case."

[[42]] Rodriguez Villa.

[[43]] Record Office S.P., Spain MSS. 38.

[[44]] Ibid.

[[45]] Aston to Coke, 30th June 1636. Record Office, MSS. S.P., Spain, 39.

[[46]] Record Office S.P., Spain MSS.