Philip II. of Spain 3

Philip II. of Spain 3

In a private letter from Charles to his son ten years afterwards, to

which other reference will be made, the emperor says that “Siliceo has

certainly not been the most fitting teacher for you. He has been too

desirous of pleasing you. I hope to God that it was not for his own

ends”; and again, “He is your chief chaplain, and you confess to him. It

would be bad if he was as anxious to please you in matters of your

conscience as he has been in your studies.” But Philip evidently liked

his tutor, for later he made him Archbishop of Toledo and Primate of

Spain. The prince must have been an apt pupil in the studies which most

attracted him. He was never a linguist of any proficiency, but could

read and write Latin well at quite an early age, and certainly

understood French and Italian. But he was a Spaniard of Spaniards, and

nothing shows the strict limitations of his capacity more than the

clumsiness with which he expressed himself even in his own language,

although he frequently criticised and altered the words and __EXPRESSION__s

employed by his secretaries.

 

The governor appointed to teach Philip the social duties and exercises

fitting to his rank was an honest Spanish gentleman who possessed the

full confidence of the emperor--Don Juan de Zuñiga, Comendador Mayor of

Castile. From him he learnt fencing, riding, and warlike exercises, and

especially dancing, of which during his youth he was very fond. Don Juan

was somewhat uncompromising of speech, and apparently made no attempt

to flatter or spoil his pupil, for the emperor in 1543, when Philip was

sixteen, warns him that he is to prize Don Juan the more for this

quality, and is to follow his advice in all personal and social matters.

 

At the age of twelve Philip lost his mother, and two years afterwards,

in 1541, his political instruction may be said to have commenced. The

emperor, although still in the prime of life, was already tired of the

world. His great expedition to Algiers, from which he had hoped so much,

had brought him nothing but disaster and disappointment, and he arrived

in Spain in deep depression. A letter supposed to have been written to

him at the time by Philip, full of religious and moral consolation for

his trouble, is quoted by Cabrera de Cordoba and subsequent historians;

but on the face of it there are few signs of its being the composition

of a boy of fourteen, and it is not sufficiently authenticated to be

reproduced here. The emperor in any case was delighted with his son. He

found him studious, grave, and prudent beyond his years, and during the

period that the father and son were together the great statesman devoted

a portion of every day to initiate his successor in the intricate task

before him. In 1542 Philip was to receive his first lesson in practical

warfare, and accompanied the Duke of Alba to defend Perpignan against

the French, but he saw no fighting, and on his way back to Castile he

received the oath of allegiance of the Aragonese Cortes at Monzon,

Philip himself swearing in October at Saragossa to maintain inviolate

the tenaciously-held privileges of self-government cherished by the

kingdom of Aragon. How he kept his oath will be seen in a subsequent

chapter. The tendency of Charles’s policy was in favour of

centralisation in the government of Spain, and he several times in

writing to his son shows his dislike of the autonomy possessed by the

stubborn Aragonese. He had completely crushed popular privileges in his

kingdom of Castile, and would have liked to do the same in Aragon. This

will probably explain Philip’s eagerness in subsequently seizing upon an

excuse to curtail the rights of the northern kingdom. Before this period

Charles had conceived another project in favour of the consolidation of

Spain. Ferdinand the Catholic, with the papal authority, had seized the

Spanish kingdom of Navarre, and added it to his own dominions.

Thenceforward the titular sovereigns of Navarre were only tributary

princes of France, but they did not lightly put up with their

deprivation, and were a constant source of irritation and danger to

Spain on the Pyrenean frontier. The design of the emperor was nothing

less than to put an end to the feud, by marrying Philip to the heiress

of Navarre, Jeanne d’Albret. It is idle to speculate upon the

far-reaching results which might have ensued from such a match, but in

all probability it would have changed the whole course of modern

history. At the time this design was in view (1539) “to extinguish the

quarrel of Navarre and tranquillise both our conscience and that of our

son,” Philip and Jeanne were twelve years old, and the marriage would

doubtless have taken place but for the vigilance of Francis I. To have

brought the King of Spain over the Pyrenees as Prince of Béarn, and the

semi-independent sovereign of a large part of the south of France, would

have ruined the French monarchy, so poor little Jeanne was married by

force to a man she detested, and Philip had to look elsewhere for a

bride.

 

On the occasion of Charles’s own marriage, the dowry from the wealthy

royal family of Portugal had provided him at a critical juncture with

money to carry on the war with France; and now again, with his exchequer

chronically empty, and the demands upon it for warlike purposes more

pressing than ever, the emperor sought to tap the rich stream of the

Portuguese Indies by wedding his son to Princess Maria, daughter of John

III. and of Charles’s sister Catharine, another consanguineous marriage

of which we shall see the result later. Before the affair could be

concluded the emperor was obliged to leave Spain (May 1543). In July of

the previous year Francis I. had fulminated against his old enemy his

famous proclamation of war, and to Charles’s troubles with the

Protestants of Germany was now added the renewed struggle with France,

in which he was to have the assistance of the English king. The

emperor’s intercourse with his son during his stay in Spain had

convinced him of Philip’s precocity in statesmanship, and so he

determined to leave in his hands the regency of Spain in his absence.

 

This was one of the most important junctures of Philip’s life. He was

barely sixteen years old, and was thus early to be entrusted with

Charles’s secret system of government, an instruction which left deep

marks upon Philip’s own method for the rest of his life. The two letters

written by Charles to his son before his departure from Spain are of the

utmost importance as providing a key for Philip’s subsequent political

action. Although Philip was entrusted with the ultimate decision of all

subjects, he was to be guided by some of the most experienced and wisest

of Charles’s councillors. First there was the Cardinal-Archbishop of

Toledo, Tavara, and next the Secretary of State, Francisco de los Cobos,

who had been at the emperor’s right hand for so long. The young regent

is secretly told by his father that the reason why these two were

appointed as his principal councillors was because they were

respectively heads of factions, and their rivalry would prevent the

prince from falling under the influence of either political party. With

merciless scalpel the great emperor lays bare, for the benefit of the

lad of sixteen, the faults and failings of the statesmen who are to aid

him in the government. He is warned not to trust any of them separately.

Their hypocrisy, their greed, their frailties of character, and conduct

are pointed out by the worldly-wise ruler to the neophyte; and the moral

of it all is that he should listen to the opinions of every one, and

especially of rivals, and then decide for himself.

 

The greatest of the emperor’s Spanish subjects was the Duke of Alba, yet

this is how he is sketched for the benefit of Philip. “The Duke of Alba

would have liked to be associated with them (_i.e._ Cardinal Tavara and

Cobos), and I do not think that he would have followed either party, but

that which best suited his interests. But as it concerns the interior

government of the kingdom, in which it is not advisable that grandees

should be employed, I would not appoint him, whereat he is much

aggrieved. Since he has been near me I have noticed that he aims at

great things and is very ambitious, although at first he was so

sanctimonious, humble, and modest. Look, my son, how he will act with

you, who are younger than I. You must avoid placing him or other

grandees very intimately in the interior government, because he and

others will exert every means to gain your goodwill, which will

afterwards cost you dear. I believe that he will not hesitate to

endeavour to tempt you even by means of women, and I beg you most

especially to avoid this. In foreign affairs and war make use of him,

and respect him, as he is in this the best man we now have in the

kingdom.” And so, one by one, the bishops and ministers who were to be

Philip’s advisers are dissected for his benefit. The prince was ready

enough to learn lessons of distrust, and it afterwards became one of the

main principles of his system that only creatures of his own making

should be his instruments for the political government of Spain.

 

Quite as extraordinary as the political instructions were the minute

rules of conduct given by the emperor to his son for the regulation of

his married life and the continuance of his studies. He is not to

consider that he is a man with nothing to learn because he married

early, and is left in so great a position, but is to study harder than

ever. “If this, my son, be necessary for others, consider how much more

necessary is it for you, seeing how many lands you will have to govern,

so distant and far apart.... If you wish to enjoy them you must

necessarily understand and be understood in them; and nothing is so

important for this as the study of languages.” The coming marital

relations of the young prince were in somewhat curious terms, left

entirely to the guidance of Don Juan de Zuñiga, and the lessons enforced

all through the proud and anxious father’s instructions, were piety,

patience, modesty, and distrust. These were Philip’s guiding principles

for the rest of his long life. The prince fully answered the

expectations of his father. During the next few years, full of stress

and storm for the wearying emperor, a close correspondence was kept up

between them, and the plans and principles of the father were gradually

assimilated by the son.

 

In November 1543 the Portuguese princess crossed the frontier to marry

Philip. She was of the same height and age as her bridegroom, a plump

bright little creature; but he was already grave and reserved, short and

dapper, but erect and well made, of graceful and pleasant mien. But for

all his gravity he was still a boy, and could not resist the temptation

of going out in disguise to meet her, and mixing in her train. His

coming was probably an open secret, for the princess on the day of his

arrival took care to look especially charming in her dress of crimson

velvet, and with white feathers in her jaunty satin hat. The meeting

took place in a beautiful country house of the Duke of Alba near

Salamanca, and on November 15 the wedding procession entered the city

itself. All that pomp and popular enthusiasm could do was done to make

the marriage feast a merry one. Bulls and cane tourneys, dancing and

buffooning, fine garments and fair faces, seemed to presage a happy

future for the wedded pair. The bride was Philip’s own choice, for his

father had at one time suggested to him Margaret, the daughter of his

old enemy Francis, but the prince begged to be allowed to marry one of

his own kin and tongue, rather than the daughter of a foe, and the

emperor let him have his way.

 

Little is known of the short married life of the young couple. It only

lasted seventeen months, and then, after the birth of the unfortunate

Don Carlos, the poor little princess herself died, it was said at the