Cottington in Madrid
Philip was not expected to return to Madrid for several days, and in the meantime it was necessary for Olivares somehow to worm out the nature and extent of the Englishman's instructions. On Monday, two days after the interview just described, Olivares made the excuse of taking Cottington out hawking, to get him quietly in the country and alone all day from morn till dark. But they had no sport, says Cottington ruefully, for the Count-Duke was so eager in his talk that he forgot all about the hawks. The disputations, now on horseback, now in a coach, often waxed angry. The States would not have a peace, but wanted a truce, said Olivares. They will not have either, replied the Englishman, unless my King's demands are granted. How can we restore the Palatinate? blustered Olivares, which is held mostly by Bavaria. Then Cottington in a rage said he should go back to England immediately, as he saw they had been deceived. If you do, retorted Olivares, we will make a league of half Europe against you.[[8]]
On Friday the King arrived in the capital, and great efforts were made to persuade Cottington to leave Madrid, and make a state entry, but this he refused to do. The next best thing was to send the whole Court in its finest garb to accompany him to the palace for his first audience with Philip. Nothing could exceed the honour paid him, though on that occasion nothing political was discussed. But on the next day, in private conference, Cottington came to close quarters with Philip. The great question, of course, was that of the Palatinate. Philip assured Cottington that he would give every satisfaction on that point if he only had patience until powers came from Germany. As the Englishman left only half convinced, Philip called him back and asked him why the English would not accept a suspension of hostilities. Because, replied Cottington, it would look like a surrender of the point about the Palatinate. There can be no peace, he said, until that question is settled.
Cottington's negotiations
The weeks dragged on, every trifling point being utilised by Olivares to keep the negotiations afoot, and relieve Spain of the strain of war with England, without ceding—what it was clear they could not cede—the restoration of the Palatinate, which was mostly held by the Germans. An interminable wrangle took place about the titles to be given to the King of England: whether he should be called Majesty, which the Spaniards always gave grudgingly to any king but their own. Then it appeared that the draft protocols sent by Coloma from London gave Charles the style of "King, etc.," without his full titles, and "Defender of the Faith." Although it was late at night when the courier arrived, Cottington hurried off to complain to Philip of this. The King of England shall be given whatever style he likes, laughed Philip. Then there was a lengthy squabble about the styles to be used by the two sister-Queens in writing to each other. When that was settled, Cottington grumbled incessantly at all this intriguing with the Catholic Irish rebels, and at Tyrone's presence in Madrid. Again and again Cottington, tired of Olivares' shilly-shally, was for returning to England post haste, but the Count-Duke always managed to smooth matters over by assuring him that they would really use all their influence to get the Palatinate restored if he only had patience.
But at length, in March 1630, Cottington's long-suffering gave way. He saw, he says, that he was being played with, and he sent Hopton to England to ask permission for him to come home. Charles was loath to give up hope, but he too was beginning to doubt the good faith of Philip and his minister, and sent instructions that there must be no more delay. Spain wants peace, but before peace can be made by England, Philip must say clearly and promptly what portion of the Palatinate he will guarantee to restore. When this message from England was brought to Madrid by Hopton in the middle of May, Philip and Olivares took fright, for a continuance of the war with England whilst they were at war with France meant certain ruin for Spain, and yet they could not take the Palatinate from Catholic hands and restore it to Protestant Frederick.
So again the blandishments re-commenced. "Pray tell me your real opinion," asked Philip of Cottington. "My real opinion, sire, is that I shall return at once, unless some means be found for making peace with the Hollanders and raising the ban against Palgrave," replied the Englishman. Philip very rarely showed anger or emotion of any sort, but he grew impatient and cross at Cottington's insistence, which he attributed to his personal desire to return home for domestic reasons. Rojas, the friend of Velazquez, and Olivares' factotum, came and implored Cottington as a friend to deal plainly with him, and tell him whether he was really going home; and Olivares himself sent for him late at night to ply him with remonstrances and expostulations.[[9]]
Peace with England
And thus the juggle went on for months, until at last Charles I., himself sorely needing peace, gave way and sent instructions to Cottington to make a treaty with Spain, leaving all questions still unprejudiced, like the agreement of 1604, with which this book began. Thenceforward all was straight sailing, for Olivares had once more worked his way, and attained the peace that was necessary for Spain, and yet pledging Philip to nothing. Whilst yet the final terms were being settled, with which Rubens was to be sent to London, news came to Madrid of the birth of a son and heir to the King of England. On the 15th June, Philip received Cottington in full state to congratulate him upon the news. Never in the brightest time had the old palace of Madrid put on a braver aspect, for now that in the essential matter of peace the King had gained his point, in that of ceremonial rejoicing he Was determined there should be no shortcoming. Surrounded by a full gathering of grandees in gold chains, Philip stood under his canopy dressed in his military garb, almost English in fashion, as he stands in the Dulwich Gallery portrait, with a splendidly embroidered scarlet ropilla doublet, a broad lace collar and "paned" hose, his breast covered with rich jewels and with a great feather in his hat. As Sir Francis Cottington approached him the King expressed his joy at the news. He was as glad, he said, as if the son had been his own; and he had prayed upon his knees for the happiness of the young prince. Then the delighted Englishman visited the two Infantes to receive their good wishes, they being, as Cottington says, "no less brave in attire" than their brother. In the afternoon another state visit was paid to the Queen, and to the baby Prince Baltasar Carlos, "in cap and feathers and loaded with charms and jewels." Solemn proclamation of the news was made by heralds in the public squares; the Calle Mayor and the Plaza were illuminated as bright as day with wax torches, and a great firework display was made before the palace. Every religious house in Madrid held a solemn service of thanks, and all the priors visited the English ambassador with their congratulations. Four days afterwards, one of the big royal bull-fights, in honour of the birth of a Prince of Wales, was given by Philip in the presence of Cottington in the Plaza Mayor, at which twenty bulls were killed, with many horses and three men.[[10]] At length the treaty of peace, the real object of all the plausibility, was settled. Olivares had won the game again. England and Spain were at peace, with the Palatinate still unrestored, and Cottington left Spain, that he knew so well, outwitted for the second time by the bland procrastination of Spanish diplomacy.