Philip II. of Spain 12

Envoys were sent from Flanders and Spain to assure

Elizabeth that if she did not withdraw her troops from Scotland he would

send a great force to help the French, whilst the Guises were

significantly told that they must be cautious, as their enemies in

France were numerous. Philip’s envoys in England might threaten, but

Elizabeth knew well that Spanish troops would never put a Frenchman in

her place, and she made the most of her knowledge. The English troops in

Scotland were victorious, and Elizabeth now could afford to hector about

the terms of peace. She wanted Calais to be restored, a large indemnity,

and much else, but she ended by accepting terms which humiliated the

Guises, and ensured her against future French aggression from Scotland.

 

Materially the peace of Cateau Cambresis had been all in Philip’s

favour, but he had hoped for advantages in other ways as well. The

original idea had been to present a united front to advancing

Protestantism both in France and Flanders, to which end he had hoped to

make a tool of France. But the death of Henry II. and the appearance of

Catharine de Medici in front of the stage had changed the problem. He

now saw a clever intriguing woman, with no religious convictions at all,

ready to rally to either party, and seeking to make a tool of _him_.

This was a _rôle_ that never suited Philip, and he soon made it clear

that his marriage with a French princess had drawn him no closer to

French interests than he was before. Frenchmen suspected of heresy in

Spain were persecuted with greater barbarity than ever by the

Inquisition. French commercial interests were as ruthlessly disregarded

as those of Protestant England itself, whilst the French expeditions to

Florida and elsewhere aroused Philip to the utmost point of arrogance

against his wife’s country. A bitter feud between the Spanish and French

ambassadors in Rome on the point of precedence appears to have been

directly fomented by Philip. The influence, therefore, of Philip’s young

French wife had to be exerted to its utmost to prevent an open rupture

between her brother and her husband.

 

Suddenly the whole prospect was again changed by the death of Francis

II. There was no fear now of the French nation becoming dominant in

Scotland and England through Mary Stuart, for Catharine de Medici hated

her daughter-in-law and the Guises, and would not raise a finger to make

them more powerful than they were. But the death of Francis made more

difficult than ever a lasting and sincere alliance between Spain and

France, for Catharine de Medici could not afford to adopt for long an

extreme Catholic policy. Philip at this time was in the very depth of

penury. Every ducat that could be extorted from the Seville merchants or

borrowed from the Fuggers had been obtained. The revenues and

remittances from the Indies had long been anticipated, the Spanish

troops in Flanders were unpaid, and Philip was surrounded by claims that

he could not meet. Under these circumstances he was fain to shut his

eyes for a time to the favour Catharine was showing to the reformers in

France, although he allowed his wife to threaten her with Spanish troops

to help the Catholic party in France if necessary. Catharine knew that

his hands were full, and practically defied him, and Elizabeth of

England did the same. He was powerless to injure them now, for his

system of jealous centralisation and his cumbrous methods were already

producing their disastrous effects.

 

The first misfortune, one of the greatest of his life, which resulted

from the confusion of his administration, was the complete destruction

of his fleet in the Mediterranean. When in 1558 the pope and Henry II.

had not hesitated to accept the aid of the infidel against Philip, a

hundred Turkish galleys had sailed from Constantinople under Piali

Pacha, an Italian renegade, and, with the aid of the famous Barbary

corsair, Dragut Reis, had scourged the coasts of Sicily and Naples,

overrun Minorca, and even attacked Nice, and then had captured the

fortress of Tripoli, which belonged to the Knights of St. John of Malta.

When peace was made between France and Spain at Cateau Cambresis in the

following year, the Grand Master of St. John urged Philip to employ the

large force he then had free in Italy and elsewhere to recover Tripoli

for the Order. The enterprise, he said, would be easy now, if it were

done swiftly and secretly, for Dragut, who governed the new conquest,

was busy raiding the interior, and the Barbary Moors, groaning under the

yoke of the Turk, would aid the Christians. Philip’s viceroy in Sicily,

the Duke of Medina Celi, anxious for personal distinction, seconded the

petition of the Grand Master, and Philip consented. Medina Celi was

appointed to the command, and orders were given to Andrea Doria,

commanding the Spanish galleys, and to the viceroys of Naples and Milan,

to aid the expedition with all the forces in their power. The Turkish

fleet was, however, still in the neighbourhood, and the viceroys did

not think prudent to send any of their troops away until it had gone.

Delay after delay took place whilst dispatches were slowly being

exchanged and Philip continually being consulted on points of detail.

The men-at-arms in large numbers broke up and went to their homes, and

when at last the troops were got together and reached Genoa, they found

that the Spanish ambassador there had dismissed the ships that had been

freighted, in the belief that the expedition had been abandoned. Then

when fresh ships had been obtained the soldiers refused to go on board

until they received their over-due pay. With much persuasion and many

promises they were at length embarked, and a shipload of them, 1500 in

number, was wrecked at the mouth of the harbour, causing renewed delay.

Then it was found that the aged Andrea Doria could not accompany the

ships, and had delegated the command to his nephew, John Andrea, under

whom some of the Spanish generals would not serve. But withal, by the

beginning of October 1559, 12,000 good troops were mustered in Messina

under Medina Celi. The Grand Master had originally, six months before,

made promptness and secrecy conditions of success, but long ere this all

the Mediterranean was ringing with the news, and Dragut was on the

alert. Whilst Philip was tardily sending cautious dispatches to his

viceroys, the Sultan had crowded men, ammunition, and stores into

Tripoli, and when after two months’ further delay the Spanish force was

ready to sail, it was found that the rascally contractors had provided

rations which were mostly rotten--just as they did to the Invincible

Armada thirty years afterwards. When finally the fleet sailed (November

20, 1559) the men were sick and discontented, 3000 of them having

already died or deserted. Many of the soldiers mutinied the first day.

Head winds and want of food held them for weeks, and it was January 10,

1560, before the fleet was assembled at Malta. There fresh men had to be

shipped to fill the places of those who had died, and sound rations

procured, and finally, on February 10, 1560, the fleet, 100 sail and a

contingent of galleys and men belonging to the Knights, left Malta. The

small island of Gelves, in the Gulf of Khabes, was easily captured, but

the next day there appeared a fleet of 74 great Turkish galleys full of

janissaries, and 12 others under Dragut from Tripoli. Medina Celi lost

his head, Doria lost his courage, and a hideous panic seized the

Spaniards at the onslaught of the Turks. The commanders fled shamefully,

and 65 ships and 5000 men fell to the tender mercies of the infidel. The

Spaniards entrenched on the island of Gelves under the brave Alvaro de

Sande, held out against terrible odds, 8000 men of them almost without

provisions, quite without water, for six weeks, and then all that were

left of them, about 1000, starved and naked, stood shoulder to shoulder

in the breach to be killed by the victors or carried to Constantinople

to a less worthy fate.

 

The Christian power in the Mediterranean was tottering; the fortresses

held by Spain in North Africa especially seemed doomed to destruction,

and Philip was forced to make a supreme effort, and was able in the next

year, 1561, to send out a fresh fleet of 70 galleys, nearly all hired,

to fight the Turk. The whole fleet was lost in a storm before it left

the coast of Spain, and the Turk once more seemed destined to dominate

the Mediterranean. The defence of the Spanish settlement of Mers el

Kebir in the spring of 1563 will always remain one of the most heroic in

history. There a little garrison of barely 200 men held out against a

Turkish force of 20,000, and although they were almost within sight of

the Spanish coast, so cumbrous was Philip’s administration that it took

two months for relief to reach them.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VIII

 

Don Carlos--His relations with Elizabeth de Valois--French

intrigues for his marriage--His illness--The Cortes of

Aragon--Jeanne d’Albret and Henry of Navarre--The Council of Trent

and the Inquisition--Philip and the pope--Renewed struggles with

the Turks--Siege of Malta.

 

 

Don Carlos, Philip’s only son and heir, had grown to be a boy of

fourteen. Considering his descent, it is not surprising that he was

deformed both in mind and body, lame and stunted, an epileptic

semi-imbecile. He had been left in charge of his widowed aunt, the

Regent Juana, a gloomy, religious mystic, to whom he was violently

attached, and whose side he could only with difficulty be prevailed upon

to leave. Philip had appointed as his tutor the learned Honorato Juan,

who certainly did his best for the royal pupil. But he could do little

for such a mind as his. As early as October 1558 the tutor wrote to the

king, then in Flanders, that his pupil obstinately refused to study

anything and was beyond control. The king himself, he said, was the only

person who could bring him to order. Philip’s answer was

characteristically cold and inexpressive. Honorato Juan must continue to

look after the prince’s education and separate him from any companions

who might divert him from his studies. But dry as was Philip’s letter to

the tutor, it is clear that the news struck sorrow to his heart, for he

loved his children dearly, and had great hopes for his heir. On a letter

written on March 6, 1559, to Cardinal Pacheco respecting the need for

settling ecclesiastical matters in the Netherlands, the king wrote the

following words in his own hand: “Perhaps the prince my son will not be

so careful of this as I am, and the people here may not try so hard as I

should about it, seeing how desirable it is for the service of God,

which is evidently the only end I aim at.” One of the first acts of

Philip on his arrival in Spain was to take his son under his own care.

When the new queen entered Toledo in state for the marriage ceremony

(February 12, 1560) she was received by her stepson Carlos, yellow with

recent fever, on his left being his young uncle, Don Juan of Austria,

and on the right Alexander Farnese, the son and grandson, respectively,

of the emperor.

 

When Elizabeth had left France, her mother, Catharine, had secretly

instructed her to use every effort to win Don Carlos for her younger

sister, Margaret de Valois, afterwards the famous first wife of Henry

IV. Elizabeth’s fascination was great, and she very soon obtained

absolute dominion over the sickly boy. The romantic stories of mutual

love between them may be dismissed now as utterly exploded fables.

Elizabeth had been born and bred in an atmosphere of political intrigue,

she had gone to Sp