Philip of Spain

by Henry Kamen

  The king also became a more convinced supporter of blood purity. In 1554 he approved purity statutes in the four cathedrals of the realm of Granada.27 In 1566 he introduced a purity statute into the city council of Toledo, against the bitter opposition of most of its members. He looked carefully at the racial origins of nominees to bishoprics and other public posts, although, he confessed, ‘I don't know if one has slipped through my fingers.’28 In reality, his prejudice – dismissed bitingly by the Spanish founder of the Jesuits, Ignatius Loyola, as ‘a whim of the Spanish king and his court’ – was out of step with the thinking of many educated Spaniards of the day. Nor did he himself enforce it consistently. On several occasions he refused to accept or approve purity statutes. In 1566, the very year he had given permission for a statute in Toledo, he instructed the university of Salamanca to refrain from adopting one.29 Conversos continued to occupy key posts at all levels in his administration (even in Toledo, despite the city statute), and the king never interfered. Sympathy for blood purity was already on the decline.

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  On Philip's return the control of government was in some disarray. Different influences had been at work during his absence, and up to 1556 many key appointments had been made by his father. The rising star was Ruy Gómez (prince of Eboli from 1559),30 who both in England and in the Netherlands had been working closely with the king. Three factors gave him influence. Ten years older than the king, he had been brought up at court with him, and Philip found his character congenial. Second, he had regular and direct access to the king. Since the household reform he had been a chamberlain (sumiller), which gave him the duties of waking the king in the morning and seeing him to bed at night. Third, from 1557 he held the post of chief accountant (contador mayor) of the treasury, which enabled him to control payments and thereby influence policy. Despite his key position Gómez was neither aggressive nor thrusting, and was content to play a subdued role. He was solely and absolutely dedicated to the person of the king31 and owed his survival in politics to his gentleness and prudence, ‘clean hands and an open character’.32 He became the focus for a grouping of interests to which courtiers attached themselves. Through his wife he had a direct link with the most powerful of Castilian grandee families, the Mendozas. Ana de Mendoza, daughter of the libertine Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, duke of Francavilla, was later to play a crucial part in the Antonio Pérez affair. She was aged only thirteen when the marriage contract, arranged in part by Philip,33 was signed in 1553. When the court was in the Netherlands, Gómez also struck up links with key figures there, such as Egmont. By the mid-1550S, well before Philip returned in 1559, the network of influence associated with Gómez was securely in place.34 The Venetian ambassador claimed that ‘everybody calls him rey [king] Gómez rather than Ruy Gómez’.35

  In the days of the emperor, influence and control had been exercised largely by Cobos and his associates, among them Alba. In the early 1550s, when Philip gradually took over, there was a scramble among officials to place themselves in the orbit of Gómez. From as early as 1552, for example, the emperor's secretary Francisco de Eraso gravitated to Gómez as political patron,36 and was subsequently rewarded with key posts in the treasury, the council of the Indies and the council of State. Several other notables were associated at this period with the Eboli interest. Among them were Don Juan Manrique de Lara, and the king's confessor fray Bernardo de Fresneda.

  The birth of a Gómez group, and its clear split from that of the duke of Alba, can be dated back to the year 1552. The group had, it seems, formed round Philip in the three years of sojourn in the Netherlands, Italy and Germany. Logically, its supporters could be found among courtiers in these three countries. When Gómez and his friends came back to Spain, they prepared for a cleansing of the Augean stables. ‘It was utterly necessary,’ confided Ruy Gómez to his friend Francisco de Eraso, ‘for His Highness to return to these realms. Every day one discovers things which, had they been allowed to go on, would have occasioned great concern. Now there is profound fear among those involved, and they make great efforts to appear snowy white.’37 Progress was slow. ‘Affairs proceed in the Spanish way,’ Gómez complained; ‘slow and disordered. His Highness does all that he can.’38 Major scandals were uncovered, notably in the country's principal court of justice, the chancery of Valladolid.39 Inevitably, the duke of Alba felt he was being edged out. He went off to his estates. Ruy Gómez observed to Eraso: ‘The duke of Alba has gone off in a huff but he has no reason to do so, because the prince extends a great deal of favour to him and gives him a part in everything without exception. In spite of this, he is not satisfied, because he doesn't have everything. As you and I have discussed on occasion, I don't know if this conduct helps him.’40

  On Philip's second return to Spain, the same thing happened. Perhaps the man most disappointed in 1559 was Alba. As high steward he controlled the king's household as well as the public functions of the court. Exactly twenty years Philip's senior, he had aided and advised him at every step of his political career. Head of the powerful noble house of Toledo and Europe's foremost soldier, Alba had every reason to hope that his pre-eminence and his services would on the king's return guarantee him the leading place in the government.41 This did not happen. Philip had a profound respect for the duke, but little in common with him in personality or in outlook. It is likely that he did not like being overawed by Alba, though he continued to consult him extensively. On Flanders the duke's advice was essential.42

  The elite groupings of the period were bound together first by family ties and then by ties of loyalty to great houses. But, above all, they were proud of their service to the crown. Loyalty to the king overrode rivalries. Alba's kinsman and brother-in-law Don Antonio de Toledo, prior of Léon, was the duke's closest ally, yet continued also to be a leading official of the government in the years when the duke's star had waned. This fluidity blurred many of the differences between factions. They might in practice fight over every conceivable matter,43 but it was more difficult to identify radical disagreement over principles.44

  Whenever he felt slighted, as he did after returning in 1559 and finding that the court was not in his control, the duke would retire to his country estates to sulk. This did not offend Philip, who employed members of Alba's grouping equally with those attached to Ruy Gómez. Gonzalo Pérez, a close ally of Alba, continued to be secretary. Up to 1579 the rivalry of interest between the Alba and the Eboli groupings dominated all aspects of court politics. But the king, in accord with practice under his father, allowed differences of opinion and policy to flourish; he was willing to learn from all sides45 Unpleasant incidents might occur, but he pretended not to notice. Gonzalo Pérez admired his ability to govern with a council where everyone was at each other's throat. ‘I don't know,’ he commented soon after the return to Toledo, ‘how he was able to bring together sixteen councillors so different in character and in other respects, but I believe that His Majesty will surmount this and will know what to do.’46 It was one of his more remarkable achievements that, until the 1580s, members of his councils complained frequently about each other but never about the king. Nor was he bound to the two groupings. Other persons with regular access to him – such as his new wife – were freely consulted and could sometimes play a decisive role, but in the end the king relied on himself to be able to keep the balance between conflicting groups. Since it was the rule in government at that time for only the king to make decisions, differing opinions and advice could help rather than hinder efficiency.

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  Philip also returned to find the treasury in desperate straits. In Zealand his hope in coming to Spain had been ‘to seek what is required for there and for here’. But from Toledo he informed Granvelle that ‘I promise you that I have found things here worse than over there … I confess that I never thought it could be like this … When I find the remedy I will act on it, because I esteem and very much love the Netherlands, and now more than ever.’47 He unexpectedly yearned for the north
, but there were serious problems here at home. The debts of Castile were in large measure inherited from his father. ‘Apart from nearly all my revenues being sold or mortgaged,’ he reported, ‘I owe very large sums of money and have need of very much more for the maintenance of my realms … I am greatly distressed to see the state in which things are.’48

  Finance had been the issue over which he had most often disagreed with his father and it was what caused him most problems with his sister Juana. Their correspondence on the matter in early 1559 was strained. ‘You need to find the money from there,’ she wrote in June, ‘because here all is consumed and spent.’49 In July: ‘not only can Your Majesty not be supplied [from Spain] with as big a sum as you say you need, but with any sum at all, however small it be’. This was the response to a memorandum from him on his needs in the Netherlands. Philip was furious. ‘I know,’ he commented, ‘that they laughed a great deal over there at some things in the memorandum. Others they have at least looked at. One thing I can say: they should not get the wrong idea, thinking that I intend to take advantage of them.’50

  Juana in all conscience could promise no comfort. Her officials were considering desperate measures. They were, for instance, taking seriously the offer by an army paymaster from Valladolid, Luis Ortiz, to double the king's revenues and liquidate the debt.51 The debt, consisting of money owed by the crown to financiers and other creditors, was consuming over two-thirds of ordinary income. Extraordinary sources of money, such as silver from America, were infrequent and unreliable. In 1559, for example, no silver came for the crown. There was no option but to renege on paying creditors. In June 1557, when in London, Philip had already arranged a suspension of payments. When he came back to Spain, he attempted another suspension in November 1560. The burden of debts inherited from his father remained round his neck for the rest of the reign, worsening with each further military enterprise.

  The biggest problem of all, and his overriding preoccupation for the next ten years, was the Ottoman threat.

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  The six years following Philip's return to the peninsula were dominated by fear of the Turks. They were also the last great years of Turkish supremacy in the Mediterranean.52 The powerful Ottoman empire, with its capital in Istanbul, had now overrun the entire eastern Mediterranean, the whole coast of north Africa, was pushing into Russia, and after occupying all the Balkans had been checked only at the frontiers of the Habsburg lands in Germany. Much of this successful expansion was the achievement of the sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. The Turks were able to draw on seemingly endless resources of military manpower and their huge navies swept all before them in the Mediterranean.

  At approximately the same time that Philip's envoys were negotiating the peace of Cateau-Cambrésis, the emperor Ferdinand was concluding a truce with the Turks before Vienna. Philip did not see the need for a formal truce on Spain's behalf. In any case he was more concerned about security in the western Mediterranean, where the threat to Spain came not directly from the Turks but from their allies the Muslim states in north Africa. Based principally on Tripoli and Algiers, these states controlled a significant naval force which, led now by the corsair Dragut, preyed on Christian shipping.

  In June 1559, from Brussels, Philip gave his approval to a Spanish-Italian expeditionary force designed to capture Tripoli.53 The expedition was the idea of the duke of Medinaceli, viceroy of Sicily, and Jean de La Valette, grand master of the knights of Malta. Long delays transpired before the huge force, some ninety ships with 12,000 men, finally set out from Syracuse in early December. Bad weather compelled them to shelter in Malta till late February 1560. They set out again in March and occupied the island of Djerba. The delay allowed the Turks in Istanbul to put together a relief fleet. The Christian ships, commanded by admiral Gian Andrea Doria, who had just succeeded his uncle as head of Spain's Mediterranean fleet, were caught by the Turks in May on Djerba. Half of the fleet was sunk and the soldiers, led by their officers, fled in panic. Doria and Medinaceli managed to escape. What was left of the force was besieged by the Turkish fleet. Over 10,000 men eventually surrendered in July, and were led in triumph a few days later through the streets of Istanbul.

  The disaster stunned the court and all Europe. Spain had never suffered a military reverse of these dimensions in all its history. ‘You would not believe,’ reported the French ambassador from Toledo, ‘how much this court, and Spain, and all that depend on them, have felt the loss of the fort and how ashamed they are of it, blaming the delays in the council of War which has so disgracefully abandoned so many good men without making any relief effort.’ The king accepted the disgrace: ‘it appears that His Majesty is willing to swallow this pill meekly’.54 Djerba brought home to him the need to reform the entire position of Spain in the Mediterranean. In 1561 Dragut destroyed seven more of Spain's galleys. Then in 1562 a freak storm wrecked another twenty-five off the Málaga coast.

  The vulnerability of Spain to heresy, bankruptcy, rebellion and military defeat had never been more patent. Starvation also loomed. The poor harvests of 1559 led to problems in 1560. In 1561 once again the harvests failed. Philip felt deeply that his absence from the country had exposed it to dangers which were unthought of in the earlier years of his rule. He now took steps to restore order to Spain, and strengthen its defences.

  The only bright spot on the horizon was his marriage, negotiated at Cateau-Cambrésis.

  In mid-December 1559 Elizabeth Valois arrived at the Spanish frontier and spent a few days in Pamplona. She then entered Castile and on 28 January reached Guadalajara, where a festive reception for her was laid on by princess Juana. Philip, as he had done before in the case of Maria, ‘went roaming about all day in disguise among the crowd to witness the reception’.55 The marriage to the king of Spain was formalised on the morning of 31 January 1560 in the palace of the dukes of Infantado. The bride was almost fourteen years old, with a dark Italian complexion, bright eyes and long flowing black hair. She was attractive but ‘not greatly beautiful’,56 in the opinion of the Venetian ambassador. The judgment is confirmed by the fine portrait of her done that year by Sánchez Coello. For the wedding she wore a silver dress bordered with pearls and precious stones, and a magnificent diamond necklace. Philip was nearly twenty years older and twice a widower. He presented himself in a white doublet and a crimson cloak. ‘Both parties,’ an observer noted, ‘are very pleased with each other.’57 Philip was captivated by the vivacious Elizabeth, and shared with her the entertainments of the season. The wedding was followed by a banquet and a ball. The next day there were bullfights, jousting, and the inevitable hunt. It is likely that the marriage was physically consummated soon after. In October Gonzalo Pérez reported that the queen was ‘somewhat indisposed, they say it is because of pregnancy’, though he had doubts about this.58 To one so close to the king, the idea would not have occurred if he did not know for certain of the consummation.

  For Carnival, in February, the royal couple moved to Toledo, which they entered on the twelfth. The new queen was greeted at the Alcázar by the three young gallants of the court: Don Carlos, Don Juan of Austria and Alessandro Farnese. The celebrations in the palace fulfilled Philip's love of dance and festivity. A courtier reported that Elizabeth was ‘every day more lovely, and very well considered by these realms’.59 In Holy Week Philip retired to a monastery, a pious practice that he had followed all his adult life. Apart from short absences, or the visit both made for a few days to Aranjuez in May 1560, the king and queen made Toledo their home. Together they attended an auto de je which the Inquisition staged in the Zocodover Square on 9 March 1561. It was a small ceremony, with only twenty-four accused. It was also the only auto that Elizabeth ever had occasion to witness.60

  Despite the marriage, Philip continued to divert his sexual energies elsewhere. From 1559 his lover was Eufrasia de Guzmán, a lady-in-waiting of his sister Juana. In 1564 she became pregnant, so he married her off to a court noble, the prince of Ascoli.61 He may have had o
ther lovers, but they are not documented. In 1563 an ambassador reported that his favourite recreations were hunting, tourneys and, above all, ‘ladies’.62

  In time, the principal lady in his life came to be Elizabeth. A lady-in- waiting reported to Catherine de’ Medici, who was anxiously waiting for the news, that the queen began to have her periods in August 1561. The king normally slept with her. The lady-in-waiting reported in January 1562 that Elizabeth ‘had a good supper and slept all night with the king her husband, who never fails to be there except when there is good reason’.63 Gradually, Philip seems to have got used to the idea of fidelity. Ruy Gómez informed the French ambassador in October 1564 that the king's ‘past love affairs have ceased, and everything is going so well that one could not wish for more’.64

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  The king began to be faced with the problem of accommodating his now considerable court. Previous rulers of Spain, including his father, had had no central capital. They had moved around, taking their officials with them. Valladolid was the effective government centre, but Philip looked round for other options. It was some time before he decided, in 1561, to fix the court in Madrid.

  The decision (which we shall consider in Chapter Seven) followed logically from the steps he took, on returning home, to improve the royal palaces. His head full of the splendours of Netherlands architecture and art, he gave instructions to his builders to adapt structures, roofs and gardens to the style he had seen in the north. When Philip visited the Alcázar in Madrid, he turned his nose up at the Mudéjar decorations. Everything would have to be changed. But it would take time. A report was asked for from the architect Gaspar de Vega, who had been with Philip in the Netherlands and England and had made a special visit to the French palaces in the area of Paris. Flemish experts and artisans were contracted to come to Spain. Above all, he awaited the arrival from Naples of Juan Bautista de Toledo, a distinguished architect and humanist of Spanish origin who had lived all his life in Italy.65