Philip II. of Spain 5

Philip II. of Spain 5

Doria, the greatest sailor of his day, who had grown grey in the service

of the emperor, knelt on the shore at the sight of the prince, overcome

with emotion, and said in the words of Simeon: “Now, Lord, let Thy

servant depart in peace, for his eyes have seen Thy salvation.” It is no

exaggeration to say that this intense devotion to the Spanish prince

reflected generally the feeling with which he was regarded in Spain, at

least. The prince landed at Savona in the territory of Genoa, where

princes and cardinals innumerable awaited him. In the city of Genoa he

stayed at the Doria palace, and there Octavio Farnese came to him from

his uncle, Pope Paul III., with a significant message. The Farneses had

but small reason to greet Philip with enthusiasm just then, for the

plans afoot for the aggrandisement of Spain were a grave menace to the

interests of the papacy, and Octavio himself was being kept out of his

principality by the emperor’s troops. But the pope’s champion against

the emperor, Francis I, had recently died, and the pontiff was obliged

to salute the rising sun of Spain, in the hope that he would prove a

better friend to Rome than his father was. So Farnese was fain to bear

to Philip from the pope a sanctified sword and a hat of state, “hoping

that some day he might behold in him the true champion of the Holy

Church.” Milan and Mantua vied with Genoa in the splendour of their

rejoicings for Philip’s arrival, and so through the Tyrol, Germany, and

Luxembourg he slowly made his way to meet his father at Brussels. On

April 1, 1549, he made his state entry into the city, but so great was

the ceremonial, that it was almost night before he arrived at the

palace. Charles was still ailing, but gained, it seemed, new life when

he saw the heir of his greatness. Thenceforward for a time the

festivals, tourneys, and rejoicings went on unceasingly, to a greater

extent, say eye-witnesses, than had ever been known before. Philip had

no taste for such frivolities, but he did his best. He was a graceful,

if not a bold, rider, and the custom of his time demanded that he should

break lances with the rest. His courtly chroniclers relate how well he

acquitted himself in these exercises, and the enthusiasm aroused by his

gallant mien; but less partial judges do not scruple to say that at one

of the tourneys during his stay in Germany on his way home “no one did

so badly as the prince,” who was never able “to break a lance.” His

inclinations were in a totally different direction. The drunken orgies

and rough horseplay of the Germans and Flemings disgusted him, and he

took but little pains to conceal his surprise at what appeared to him

such undignified proceedings. He was unable, moreover, to speak German,

and his voyage certainly did not help forward the project of securing to

him the succession to the imperial crown.

 

For the next two years the emperor kept his son by his side,

indoctrinating him with his principles and policy. For two hours nearly

every day the Spanish prince learnt the profound lessons of government

from the lips of his great father, government founded on the principle

of making all other men merely instruments for carrying out the ends of

one.

 

Philip had now been a widower for four years, and doubtless during this

period contracted his connection with Doña Isabel de Osorio, by whom he

had several children; and he had one at least by a Flemish lady in

Brussels. His only legitimate son was the lame, epileptic Don Carlos,

and the emperor had no other sons; so during the intimate conferences

which followed Philip’s arrival in Brussels, Charles pressed upon his

heir the necessity of taking another wife, and once more brought forward

Jeanne d’Albret, titular Queen of Navarre, who had claimed a divorce

from the Duke of Cleves, whom she had been constrained to marry. But

whether because cautious Philip saw that to extend his dominions into

the south of France would be a source of weakness rather than strength

to him, or whether he was influenced by the greed for dowry, and the

persuasions of his widowed aunt Leonora, who was with his father in

Brussels, he certainly leant to the side of her daughter, another

Princess Maria of Portugal, aunt of his former wife, and negotiations

were opened in this direction, although Ferdinand, King of the Romans,

the brother of the emperor, tried his hardest to promote his own

daughter to the place of Philip’s consort. Philip had contrived to

persuade his probably not unwilling father to endeavour to promote his

claims to the succession of the imperial crown in the place of

Ferdinand, and the Austrian archives contain full details of the almost

interminable family discussions with this end. At last, in March 1551, a

compact was made with which Philip was forced to be satisfied. It was to

the effect that Ferdinand should succeed Charles as emperor, but that on

the death of Ferdinand the imperial crown should pass to Philip instead

of to Maximilian, who was to govern the empire in his name, holding a

similar position towards Philip to that occupied by Ferdinand towards

Charles. The emperor’s suzerainty over Italy was to be exercised

vicariously by Philip during the life of Ferdinand. This last provision

was a bitter pill for Ferdinand to swallow, but it was, in Charles’s

view, the most important of them all. Spain, with a supremacy over the

Italian states, would be the mistress of the Mediterranean, with

infinite possibilities of extension to the east and in Africa, whilst

France would be checkmated on this side, as she had been on the north.

Philip, who had accompanied his father to Augsburg for the Diet, only

stayed until this arrangement was settled and he had received the fiefs

of the empire, and then (in May 1551) started on his way home to Spain.

 

The battle of Mühlberg, three years before, together with the ambition

of Maurice of Saxony, had laid Lutheranism prostrate at the feet of

Charles, but the plan to perpetuate Spanish domination over the empire

once more aroused the spirit of the sovereigns to resistance, and the

powerful Maurice of Saxony, the emperor’s own creature, joined his

fellow-countrymen against him. Sent by Charles to besiege the Protestant

stronghold of Magdeburg, he suddenly changed sides. The opportunity thus

offered was too good to be neglected by France, where Henry II. was now

firmly seated on the throne; and in October 1551 a compact was signed at

Friedwald in Hesse, by which Maurice, the King of France, and the

Protestant princes joined against the emperor. Henry II. had just made

peace with England, and had recovered Boulogne, so that he was in a

better position to face his enemy than ever before. Octavio Farnese,

with the connivance of France, raised a tumult in Italy to recover his

principalities of Parma and Piacenza; and thus Charles found himself

suddenly confronted by war on all sides, just when the prospects of his

House had looked brightest. There is no space in this work to follow the

fortunes of the remarkable campaign in which Maurice swept through

Germany, capturing the imperial cities, surprising the emperor himself

in Innspruck, and forcing Cæsar to fly for his life through the

darkness. Suffice it to say that Charles was humbled as he had never

been before, and was obliged to sign the peace of Passau at the

dictation of Maurice (July 31, 1552) on terms which practically gave to

the Lutheran princes all they demanded. This put an end for once and for

all to the dream of making Philip Emperor as well as King of Spain. Nor

had Henry II. been idle. On his way to join the German Protestants he

had captured the strong places of Alsace and Lorraine, and Charles’s

army before Metz was utterly defeated by Guise (January 1553). In Italy,

too, the emperor was unfortunate, for the French had obtained a footing

in Siena, and had overrun Piedmont. And thus the idea of a permanent

supremacy of Spain over the Italian states also fell to the ground.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER III

 

Proposal to marry Philip to Queen Mary of England--The need for

alliance with England--The negotiations of Renard--Opposition of

France--Unpopularity of the match in England--Philip’s voyage to

England--His affability--His first interview with Mary--The

marriage--Philip made King of Naples--Failure of the objects of the

marriage--Philip’s policy in England--Pole’s mission--Philip and

the persecution of Catholics in England--Philip’s disappointment

and departure.

 

 

In the meanwhile Philip was doing well in Spain. He had raised both men

and money in plenty to reinforce the emperor, and Alba himself was sent

to command them. He pushed on vigorously the negotiations for his

marriage with his Portuguese cousin, whose dowry would once more provide

the sinews of war. But King John III. was less liberal with a dowry for

his sister than he had been for his daughter, and the project hung fire

month after month on this ground alone, notwithstanding the efforts of

Ruy Gomez, who was sent by Philip to Portugal in June 1553 to persuade

the king to loosen his purse strings and send his sister to Spain with a

rich dowry.

 

Then, almost suddenly, the whole aspect of affairs changed. It had been

known for some time that the young King of England, Edward VI., was in

failing health, and would probably die without issue, but the uncertain

element in the situation had been the extent of the Duke of

Northumberland’s power and the strength of Protestantism in the country.

Hardly pressed as he was, Charles’s principal preoccupation with regard

to England was to keep on good terms with it, although doubtless many a

time his busy brain must have conjured up circumstances which would

admit of fresh combinations being formed in which England should share.

The events in Germany, the terms of the peace of Passau, and the

unpopularity of Philip out of Spain, had convinced him that his dreams

of ambition for his son in that direction were impossible of

realisation. He must have seen also that the possessor of Flanders and

Holland without the strength of the empire behind him, and with a

covetous France on one flank and Protestant princes on the other, would

be in an untenable position, unless he could depend upon England’s

co-operation through thick and thin. This was the first manifestation of

the evil results which logically followed his ill-starred action in

attaching the dominions of the House of Burgundy permanently to the

crown of Spain.

 

Edward VI. died on July 7, 1553, and the popular acclamation of Mary and

the complete collapse of Northumberland’s house of cards, caused a new

departure in the emperor’s political plans. The hollow crown of the

empire might go, with its turbulent Lutheran princes and its poor

patrimony, but if only rich England could be joined in a lasting bond to

Spain, then France would indeed be humbled, Flanders and Italy would be

safe, the road to unlimited expansion by the Mediterranean would be

open, and Spain could give laws to all Latin Christendom, and to

heathendom beyond.

 

No time was lost in commencing the preliminaries. The first thing

evidently for the emperor to do was to consolidate Mary’s position on

the throne by counselling prudence and moderation in religious affairs.

The imperial ambassador was instructed immediately (July 29, 1553) to

urge upon the new queen not to be in a hurry openly to avow herself a

Catholic until she had sounded public opinion and conciliated the nobles