“If it be so it is a praiseworthy resolution; and it is to be hoped that Heaven may keep him in it. However, all is uncertain—the firmest man may change his mind.”
“Your Highness says right. Therefore, it will be well to secure a crown in case of accident. Neither do I despair of your doing so. The English nation, they say, hate us Spaniards. What matter? They cannot hate us worse than we hate them. They fear our yoke. Let[Let] us give them reason for their fears by ruling them so severely that they shall not dare to move hand or foot, save at our pleasure. With such a people nothing but hard and sanguinary measures will do. Their late King, Henry VIII., knew that well, and his subjects obeyed him, crouching at his feet like beaten hounds. But to impose our yoke upon them, we must go beyond the despot Henry. We must pour forth the blood of the English nobles like water, seize upon their possessions, and assume their titles. Do this, extirpate heresy, establish the Inquisition, and your Highness need fear no rebellion.”
Alva’s eyes blazed as he gave this counsel, and his countenance assumed an expression so terrible that even Philip regarded him with awe.
“The time is not yet come for acting thus,” observed the Prince. “I must first try to ingratiate myself with the people, and win over the council and the nobles by gifts and promises. If those fail, I may have recourse to other means.”
“There, to my mind, your Highness is wrong,” rejoined Alva. “Begin as you mean to go on. You cannot make yourself beloved by this perfidious nation, but you may easily make yourself dreaded. Hesitate not to shed blood—the best blood. Strike boldly, and at the highest. If you have any misgivings, let me do the work for you, and it shall be done effectually. I shall not object to be grand justiciary of the realm.”
And again his features wore the terrible look we have just noticed.
“It is too soon to talk of this,” said Philip. “We will speak of it hereafter.”
“It may then be too late,” rejoined Alva, in a sombre tone. “Once again, I counsel your Highness not to delay. As soon as you are fairly wedded, throw off the mask.”
“And be driven disgracefully from the kingdom,” cried Philip. “No; I shall adopt a safer course. A time may come—and that at no distant date—when I may profit by your counsels, and ask your aid.”
And he turned to watch the numerous white-sailed little barques steering towards him from Portsmouth.