Notwithstanding his constant state occupations, Olivares is said to have worked night and day in personally making the preparations for the great fete. Not only the garden of Monterey, but those on each side of it[[14]] were appropriated; and a great Italian architect, who had designed the wonderful jasper pantheon of the Kings at the Escorial, was commissioned to build a beautiful open-air theatre and a series of improvised edifices for the accommodation of the principal guests. Like magic, thanks to lavish expenditure, there sprang up in the shady gardens a gorgeously upholstered chamber or bower with chairs of state for the King and his two brothers, and the customary cushions for the Queen, placed in a projecting balcony from which the stage could be seen, with two similar apartments, one on each side, for the suite, and retired nooks or niches between them, we are told, in which the Count and Countess of Olivares might watch over the comfort of their guests. A stage, surrounded and crowned by a multitude of lights in crystal globes, and decked with flowers, faced the royal pavilions, and on each side seats were provided for the ladies of the Court, but no gentleman was allowed to be present. By the wall separating the gardens from the Prado great stands were erected to accommodate the six orchestras and choirs that were ordered to be present, and the gentlemen guests, none of whom were asked to the garden itself. To each of Olivares' great kinsmen already mentioned was assigned a department: one was to superintend the rehearsals, another was to take charge of the marshalling of the coaches and the reception of the royal guests, another had under his care the refreshments, and so on.

On the day before the fête the Countess of Olivares dined in the garden, and witnessed a full dress rehearsal of the whole entertainment; and Madrid was agog with excitement when, after dark on the night of St. John, all the grand folk from the palace in their heavy coaches lumbered down to the Prado to attend the fête. At nine o'clock the royal party were received by the Countess at the entrance pavilion which had been erected for the purpose, the united choirs chanting a pæan of welcome as the King and Queen advanced to the chamber whence they were to see the comedies. Gentlemen of the Count-Duke's household on their knees offered to the royal guests and their suite of ladies perfumes in crystal and gold flasks, scented lace handkerchiefs, bouquets, scented clay crocks,[[15]] fans, etc., on silver salvers. Then, after a flourish of trumpets and an overture on the guitars, Quevedo's and Mendoza's new comedy was performed by Vallejo's company. "Who Lies Most Thrives Most" was the name of the piece, and we are told that it was crammed "with the smart sayings and courtly gallantry of Don Francisco de Quevedo, whose genius is so favourably known in the world." The principal actress was the famous Maria de Riquelme,[[16]] who in verse welcomed the great guests, and praised the King in a manner that, if he had not been case-hardened to adulation, would have made an archangel blush, whilst at the same time several strong hints were introduced that the Count-Duke himself was only one degree less divine than his master.

For two hours the stage entertainment went on, with comedies, dances, poetry and music, all present agreeing that Don Francisco de Quevedo had in his one day's work put more wit and humour than other authors would consider sufficient for a dozen comedies. At one of the intervals, when the first comedy was finished, the King and Queen were conducted to the adjoining garden of the Duke of Maqueda, where they found a series of beautiful chambers communicating with one another, and constructed entirely of flowers and leaves. One of these was for the King and his brothers, another for the Queen, and the third for the ladies in attendance, and in each of the rooms were disguises for the guests. For the King had been provided a long brown cloak, trimmed with great scrolls of black and silver, and closed by frogs and olives of wrought silver, a white hat with white and brown plumes, a shield of scented leather and silver, and a white falling Walloon collar; similar but diverse disguises being provided for the two princes. Upon a side table in each flower chamber was a precious casket of morocco leather and gold filled with choice sweetmeats, a variety of perfumes, and some of the scented clay vessels of which Spanish ladies of the day fancied the taste to nibble and even sometimes to swallow. The Queen's disguise was like that of the King, but with much more adornment in the way of spangles and the like; and when the whole party had covered their ordinary garb with these unusual additions, "strange in shape and fashion," they were led in stately procession with much attitudinising to see the second comedy, in which, says the awestricken chronicler, "they lost no jot of the majesty which is not the least of their inestimable virtues and perfections."

The assumption of these fantastic disguises by the royal personages is elaborately apologised for by the chronicler, by whom it was considered apparently as a somewhat risky and undignified experiment; especially as, owing to it, no male person except Olivares and his household was admitted to the gardens themselves; the gentlemen of the Court being relegated to the stands by the Prado wall, in order that they might not see the King unbend sufficiently to don a disguise. When Lope de Vega's new comedy, "The Night of St. John," was finished, the royal party retired to a banqueting-room constructed of flowers in the other garden on the north. Here a sumptuous supper was served at midnight, the King and Queen at their high table being served by Olivares and his wife, everything being done with perfect silence and order,—"though a multitude of dishes were carried to the musicians, singers, and gentlemen in the orchestra stands." By the time the lights were dimming, and the sky was turning to pearly grey beyond the trees of St. Geronimo, the whole stately company turned out in their coaches for a drive up and down the Prado; and then back to the palace, doubtless to sleep.[[17]] When the dawn broke fully, it was found that, notwithstanding the prohibition, a perfect host of people, men and boys, had surreptitiously found their way in from the Prado, and, hidden in the copses and under the stagings, they had witnessed the whole show, including the questionable proceeding of risking the majesty of monarchs by a fancy dress; whereupon the chronicler attributes the quietness and patience of these intruders to the awe and reverence inspired by a king, no matter how dressed.[[18]]

As will be seen by this curious account, the hand of Olivares was everywhere. From handing the King his shirt in the morning and drawing his bed curtains at night, to deciding peace and war for the nation, the Count-Duke did everything. The King's amusements and amours were as much his affairs as were the routine duties of Government; and I unearthed some years ago, and described fully in a former book of mine,[[19]] a curious series of original manuscript documents which prove that at the period now under review (1630-1635) the most secret domestic concerns of the King were settled by Olivares as a matter of course. The first document of the series[[20]] is a note written by Olivares to the King in 1630, saying that it was high time that a certain little boy, whose age is given as four years, should be concealed, and taken away from the people he was then with; so that all trace of him may be broken. He has, he says, been thinking very deeply how this is to be done, and, as was usual with him, had found objections to every solution that has presented itself. But he thinks, upon the whole, that the child should be secretly put in the care of a certain gentleman of his acquaintance living at Salamanca, named Don Juan de Isasi Ydiaquez; and the Count-Duke proposes that this gentleman should be summoned to Court without telling him why he was wanted; and "after seeing him, your Majesty may decide." Across this document Philip has written in his big straggling hand: "It appears very necessary that something should be done in this matter, and I approve of your suggestion."

One of Philip's sons

The rest of the papers unfold the poor sad little mystery. The babe in question was one of Philip's illegitimate children, christened Francisco Fernando, and he was probably his first son; born, as we are told in these papers, at the house of his grand-parents, who were gentlefolk, between eleven and twelve at night on the 15th May 1626; Don Francisco de Eraso, Count of Humanes,[[21]] leading the midwife thither and being present at the birth, the infant being conveyed immediately afterwards to the house of Don Baltasar de Alamos, Councillor of the Treasury, where a nurse awaited him, in whose care he remained until he was delivered by Olivares to his new keeper, the hidalgo of Salamanca, who belonged to a notable bureaucratic and secretarial family. The subsequent short career of the infant does not enter into our present subject; but it is fully detailed in the documents: the periodical reports of the child's progress, the grave discussions of Olivares with physicians and keepers as to his diet and health; the provisions for his proper education, his clothing and diversions, his infantile ailments, the most trivial circumstances of the child's life, are all considered and passed in review by the minister, upon whose bowed shoulders the whole work of the State rested. The little left-handed royalty, for all the care with which his life was surrounded, failed to resist the bleak air of Salamanca, and on the 17th March 1634 the King's Secretary of State, Geronimo de Villanueva, of whom we shall hear again, wrote to the hidalgo Isasi Ydiaquez, saying "that his Majesty had received with the deepest grief the news of the death of Don Francisco Fernando, who showed such bright promise for his tender years, and his Majesty highly appreciated all the care that had been taken with him."[[22]] And a few days later, the little corpse, dressed in a red and gold gown, and enclosed in a black velvet coffin, was carried with all secrecy to the Escorial, where, in the presence of the inevitable Don Geronimo de Villanueva, the secretary and confidential agent of the King, the "body of Don Francisco Fernando, son of his Catholic Majesty Don Felipe IV.," was handed to the bishop of Avila in the porch of the church, and buried by the friars in the vaults of their monastery.

The frowning old Alcazar on the cliff overlooking the Manzanares, so often mentioned as the scene of Philip's festivities, was unfit for gaiety, and offered but few attractions to him. The Escorial for similar reasons was never a favourite residence of his; and Aranjuez was always insalubrious except in the spring. The Court therefore was usually in residence in Madrid itself, or in the neighbouring hunting seat of the Prado. But there was in the extensive and beautiful grounds attached to the monastery of St. Geronimo at the east gate of the capital a suite of apartments used by the royal family for religious or mourning retreats, or for an occasional guest house. It occurred to Olivares in 1631 that this place might be made more attractive, and used more frequently as a relief to Philip from the stern mediæval palace at the other end of the town. The idea began with the mere levelling of an inequality here, the clearing of a lawn there, and the building of an aviary and a few fountains and summer houses. But very soon the Count-Duke's ambition grew, and he and Philip became fascinated and absorbed in the building of a palace which became to the reign of Philip what Versailles was to that of Louis XIV.

The Buen Retiro

The palace of the Buen Retiro was intended by Olivares, and truly was, a fit setting for the elegant, chivalric, and poetic surroundings of the King, a light and pretty retreat in the midst of enchanting gardens, where upon stages under the trees or in high and gilded halls the witty dissolute comedies might be played to an audience of the elect. Nothing that the inspiration of genius, the efforts of flattery, or the exercise of unrestrained expenditure could compass was spared by Olivares in making the Buen Retiro perfect for its purpose of keeping the King diverted. An immense territory, in addition to the monastery grounds, was appropriated for the purpose,[[23]] and Olivares exhausted all the horticultural knowledge of the time in laying out the grounds with lakes, grottoes, and cascades; whilst in a very short time there arose in all its beauty the palace that in future was to be the symbol of Philip's elegant, picturesque, but useless reign.