Philip of Spain

by Henry Kamen

  The king's activity in building marks a turning point in Spanish architecture. He had seen the sumptuous palaces of Germany, England and Flanders. A convinced European, he saw no reason why Italian and Flemish tastes should not be implanted in the peninsula. Already in 1556 he was sending back sketches of gardens and buildings, in his own hand, to the directors of works at Aranjuez and at Aceca.66

  The network of residences in the vicinity of the capital was slowly put in order. In these months another plan, bold and wholly innovative, took shape in the king's mind. Since the victory at St Quentin he had been considering the possibility of founding a religious house in honour of the event. Sending for Juan Bautista from Ghent in 1559 was the first definite step. The architect arrived in Spain early in 1560 and was given his instructions: to think about the new foundation, and to apply himself meanwhile to the works at Aranjuez, Madrid and Aceca. Philip subsequently contacted the Jeronimite order, who were to staff the new monastery. The friars had several meetings with the architect and with Philip's secretary for works, Pedro de Hoyo. In January 1561 a rough sketch of the building, done by Juan Bautista, formed the basis for discussion.

  As yet no site had been chosen. By the end of that year, however, Philip had decided on a place in the sierra de Guadarrama, next to the little village of El Escorial. By March 1562 Juan Bautista had his sketches ready. Philip was excited: ‘Bring it when you have finished, and all the better if it's tomorrow.’67 After this the next stage was the construction of a model, which was completed by December, after several disagreements.

  The king's idea at this stage was summarised by the future librarian and historian of the Escorial, fray José de Sigüenza. Philip planned (said Sigüenza) a monastery for about fifty friars, adjoining a residence for himself, the royal family, and part of the court. Between the two residences there would be a church. Very soon the idea changed and plans were modified. But the work was commenced. On 23 April 1563 the first stone was laid of the building dedicated to San Lorenzo (St Lawrence), the saint on whose feast-day the battle of St Quentin had been won.

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  Among Philip's most pressing worries was the question of his son. Don Carlos was fourteen years old in 1559 and the prince's strange character was already a subject of gossip in every European court. The Venetian ambassadors reported as fact hair-raising stories of his cruelty to animals, and his curious temperament. Striking portraits of him done in 1557 and 1564 by Sánchez Coello68 give some hint of Don Carlos's physical defects, his twisted face and misshapen legs.

  Early in 1562 the prince had a serious accident. On 19 April, while trying to enter a part of his lodgings at Alcalá to see a serving girl, he fell down some steps and hit his head. He was found bleeding and unconscious. Later he developed a fever. The doctors, following their traditional method, bled him. Ten days later, the wound on his head looked even uglier and he was extremely feverish. The king, then in Madrid, was interrupted in the middle of an audience with the French ambassador. He set out at once for Alcalá, accompanied by his own doctor Vesalius, and by Alba and Ruy Gómez. Other members of the council followed. On 5 May Don Carlos fell into a coma. His death appeared imminent and public prayers for him were ordered throughout the realm. The king was desperate. An Italian noble who was present reported his extreme distress, as he waited hours by the bedside of his son and heir, his eyes full of tears.69

  On 9 May, following a suggestion made by the duke of Alba,70 the embalmed body of a local saint, the Franciscan Diego de Alcalá, was brought in from a local convent. The prince was made to touch the body. The six doctors, meanwhile, had recourse to an alternative. They agreed to try the balms recommended by a Morisco doctor from Valencia.71 The balms, one white and one black, were applied on 8 and 9 May. The doctor was also sent for and arrived on 9 May. The balm was used for a few more days. One way or another, through the intervention of the saint or the Morisco, by 20 May the fever had disappeared. By mid-June Don Carlos was walking about without problems. In gratitude for the recovery, Philip subsequently obtained from the pope the official canonisation of Diego of Alcalá.

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  In 1562 the outbreak of religious conflict in France opened up a new source of concern. Throughout the winter of 1561-2 there were small, bloody, conflicts between Catholic and Protestant groups all over France. In March 1562 the killing of a group of Protestants at Vassy by the duke of Guise's men was denounced as a ‘massacre’ and religious fury spilled over into civil war. Instability in France would certainly affect the neighbouring Netherlands, and might touch Spain itself. Philip had grown up in the shadow of the Comunero revolt and was deeply convinced of the evils of rebellion and civil war. To the end of his life he retained a dislike of the Comuneros.72 In 1560 he lectured the French ambassador l'Aube-spine (and through him the French king) on ‘the time of the Comuneros and civil wars in Spain, when the emperor his father came to the throne, and the steps he then took’.73 He was preoccupied less with heresy, which from his experience of Germany and England he knew could be handled according to circumstances, than with rebellion and public order. Diversity of religion was bad, but from the state's point of view it was bad primarily because it encouraged rebellion. Philip's careful approach to the problem in France had to take into account the fact that there was a bewildering diversity of political interests to deal with. His mother-in-law Catherine de’ Medici, the king, the chancellor l'Hôpital, the princes of Bourbon, the dukes of Guise, the duke of Montmorency in Languedoc, all had differing approaches to both religion and politics. He consequently relied heavily for information on his diplomats at the French court. From 1559 until 1564 his ambassador there was Thomas Perrenot de Chantonnay, a brother of Granvelle.

  When the French government in January 1562 granted toleration to its Protestants, Philip's scepticism was borne out by events: the concession did not avert rebellion. He accordingly sent some military support from Flanders to help queen Catherine. In October Alba informed the French ambassador in Madrid, Saint-Sulpice, that military help would continue provided no further toleration were permitted, since this might destabilise the Netherlands. ‘It would almost be better,’ Alba said, ‘for the kingdom of France to destroy itself than to allow such a breach in questions of religion.’74 Other advisers of the king gave Saint-Sulpice the clear impression that they were quite happy to see a France weakened by dissension.75 The very difficult Franco-Spanish diplomacy of the next few years was made more difficult by Spanish inability to understand the complexity of affairs in France. Philip was kept informed by his subsequent ambassador, the Basque Francés de Álava, who served in France from 1564 to 1571, and sent home brilliant but sternly conservative despatches.

  French affairs were closely related to two other questions: the Netherlands, and Mary queen of Scots. The Netherlands were Spain's economic lifeline, as Philip and his ministers were well aware. Three-quarters of Spain's chief export, wool, went there to be marketed. Over four-fifths of the ships plying the trade route between the north and the peninsula were from the Netherlands.76 The loans which had helped to finance the late emperor's wars were largely negotiated there. But this fortunate inheritance could be destabilised by dissension, civil and religious, or by the greed of neighbouring states. Cardinal Granvelle, whose advice weighed most with Margaret of Parma, favoured a firm hand against religious and political opposition. He also warned Philip against the commercial ambitions of England and the expansionist ambitions of the French.

  The issues that Philip had left unresolved in Brussels continued to provoke discontent. The nobles resented in particular Granvelle's control over government and his influence with Margaret. When in 1559 Philip launched a scheme to reform the structure of bishoprics in the provinces, Granvelle was accused of being its author. In July 1561 Egmont and Orange wrote to Philip in the name of the nobles, protesting that they were not being consulted. A bitter campaign was launched against the cardinal by his enemies. In 1562 the nobles sent the baron Montigny to Spain to present thei
r point of view. Philip asked Montigny what the main grievances were. Montigny replied that they were three: the bishoprics, the Inquisition, and Granvelle. Rumours were evidently being spread that the king wished to introduce the Holy Office. Philip was indignant. ‘Never in my imagination,’ he assured Montigny, ‘have I thought of introducing into Flanders the Inquisition of Spain.’77

  Finally, in March 1563, three leading nobles – Orange, Egmont and Philippe de Montmorency, count of Hornes – sent an ultimatum to Philip. Granvelle, they said, must resign. They were leaving the council of State until he did so. The crisis continued into the summer months, with Margaret refusing to budge from her support for the cardinal, and Philip trying vainly from Spain to placate the angry nobles.

  The anti-Granvelle campaign was backed in Madrid by the royal secretary Francisco de Eraso, who had close links with Ruy Gómez. Granvelle was an old friend of Alba. This, and other considerations, served to align the groupings in Madrid with those in the north. Egmont and Orange looked to Ruy Gómez and Eraso for support; Granvelle looked to Alba. Other dimensions also developed. In 1561 a zealous Augustinian friar, Lorenzo de Villavicencio, became alarmed at the extent to which heresy was spreading in the Netherlands78 and teamed up with an army paymaster there, Alonso del Canto.79 The two, sponsored by Eraso, began sending the king confidential, detailed reports on personalities in Brussels. Their spying was not limited to cases of heresy. Eraso encouraged his men to send him information about Granvelle and about the situation in the Netherlands. The king in this way had access to a direct and unofficial source of information about affairs in the north.

  Philip was quite aware of the rivalries and interests involved. An incident at court in 1560 occurred in his very presence. He was immersed in a consultation with Eraso. The secretary, to ensure privacy, locked the door and left the key in it. Later, Alba turned up to see the king. Finding the door shut, he tried to use the key which gave him, as high steward, right of access throughout the palace. When it would not enter, he banged on the door. The king and Eraso went on with their business. Alba was left to wait outside for an hour, fuming among the other courtiers, until Eraso came out. Alba then stormed off, complaining loudly, ‘Even the doors!’80 Shortly after, he retired to his estates, in another of his periodic sulks. The incident seemed to demonstrate that Philip was relying more on the advice of the Ruy Gómez group.

  This was not quite true. Alba's sulks were a reflection of his own hurt pride, not of Philip's policy inclinations. The king in the 1560s felt himself buffeted between conflicting waves of interest, and was at no moment so sure of his position that he could afford to do without good advice. He was particularly vulnerable in matters concerning the Netherlands. Like all the other territories ruled by the Spanish crown, the Netherlands had an autonomous government. The king issued general directives, but the details and implementation were left to the government there. In the mid-1560s the heresy laws, and other measures which excited the anger of the nobles, were never referred to the king for his approval.81 Hence the opposition to Granvelle and to Margaret arose from a local situation for which Philip was not entirely responsible. The king, as a consequence, could not fully control events. This was a dangerous position from which to make the important decisions to which he must subsequently commit himself. He was more anxious than ever to consult with everyone, and especially with Alba.

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  At the end of February 1563 Philip and Don Carlos attended the opening of the Cortes in Madrid. Formal sessions began on 1 March and the deliberations continued for several more months, concluding in October. Finance was inevitably the central topic, but the deputies were also concerned that Don Carlos should marry, and that the king should visit the cities of the realm.82 Since his return from Brussels, Philip had not found time to go round the provinces of the peninsula. It was an error on his part, which he tried to remedy immediately. The deputies also, in a period of spiralling inflation, pressed for controls on luxury in dress. The king replied to this with a law which he issued at the end of October.

  In response no doubt to the complaints that he had not visited his people, Philip was once more on the move during 1563. ‘I have to leave here early in June,’ he reflected, ‘and go to visit the coasts and frontiers on the Atlantic, as well as the mountains of Biscay, Guipúzcoa and Navarre, and have my son the prince sworn to; this will keep me busy until I go to Monzón, where I have to hold the Cortes of the realms of Aragon.’83 It was a formidable programme, but he could not carry it out as planned. The idea had been to swear in Don Carlos in the different realms, but the prince fell ill, and after some delay Philip had to set out without him. He left Madrid later than planned, on 18 August, the height of the summer, stopping briefly at the Escorial to lay the foundation stone of the future monastery. Flanked by clergy and nobles, with Juan Bautista by his side, on the afternoon of Friday 20 the king presided over the ceremony.84 After a few days at Valsaín, he made his way to Valladolid, Saragossa and eventually to Monzón.

  The meeting of the Cortes of Aragon was an event he dreaded because of the sheer discomfort. ‘You no doubt know,’ he complained, ‘of the availability of lodging in Monzón. It is so wretched and cramped that I daren't take the queen there.’85 On seeing the town, a Flemish courtier referred to it as a ‘hole’.86 Its central location in the realms of Aragon had made it, through long usage, the place where the Cortes met, but Monzón was not equipped with adequate buildings or services to cater for the influx of well-heeled lords and ladies. Deputies who came could not leave fast enough. Unfortunately, political business could prolong Cortes meetings inordinately.

  The sessions were opened by the king on 13 September 1563, the day after his arrival. The three realms of Aragon, Catalonia and Valencia met in separate session, and in each the king made an opening speech. Catalonia alone continued its sessions the year afterwards in Barcelona, in the presence of the king. One of the major points at issue at Monzón was the Inquisition. Since 1558 the realm of Aragon had been in uproar because of attempts by the Inquisition to control the Moriscos of the nobles. At Monzón the nobles pressed the attack further. Philip refused to tolerate this. ‘He summoned some of those in the Estates and told them indignantly that they must not raise this matter in the Cortes’87 Attacks on the Inquisition were so fierce that Philip, despite his reluctance, was obliged to take note. The result was an agreement or Concordia issued five years later (1568) by the Inquisitor-General, cardinal Espinosa, which in some measure limited the actions of the Holy Office. There were similar grave conflicts in Catalonia. The king was, as always, stubborn when it came to the Inquisition. The Venetian ambassador, who was at Monzón, said he had heard from Alba that the king felt the Inquisition to be ‘the only way to maintain the people in the faith’.88

  During the days of heat and discomfort at Monzón the king had to come to grips with the crisis in the Netherlands. In October 1563 Thomas de Armenteros, Margaret of Parma's secretary, arrived with a special message. The regent had finally given in to the pressure in Brussels, and now requested Philip's permission to sack Granvelle. There was no lack of voices to support the move. Eboli and Eraso were accompanying Philip, and they were in favour. But Granvelle's friends were not absent.89 The king continued to consult Alba (then in another of his sulks, at his estates in Huéscar)90 about what to do. The duke's reply was typically aggressive. ‘Every time I see letters from those gentlemen in Flanders,’ he fumed, referring to the dissident nobles, ‘I get so enraged that if I did not try to control myself Your Majesty would take me for a madman.’91 On no account, he advised, should Granvelle be removed.

  But Philip decided to accept Margaret's decision and beat a retreat. He wrote personally to Granvelle in January 1564, advising him to leave the country temporarily under the pretence of visiting his ailing mother in Besançon. A month later, which gave time for the cardinal to act out his part, he wrote to the nobles ordering them to return to the council. Granvelle left Brussels early in March and the
nobles shortly afterwards resumed their duties. The crisis was over. Granvelle went into a short enforced retirement, which he seemed to enjoy. Nothing, he wrote to correspondents, was better than the green hillsides and fresh air of Besançon. He grew his beard long. Some said he had sworn not to cut it until he returned to the Netherlands.

  The anti-Granvelle interest in Madrid, represented by Eraso, felt strong and confident. But it is unlikely that Philip accepted the turn of events with good grace. He had, in general terms, supported Granvelle's policies, especially in matters of religion where the cardinal favoured a firm application of the heresy laws (known as placards). Now, in his absence, the religious situation in 1564 seemed to be getting worse. The nobles and Margaret appeared to be unable (or unwilling) to act. A stream of alarmist reports from Villavicencio alerted Philip to the gravity of the situation.92

  The Cortes of the Aragonese at Monzón dragged on despite Philip's haste to get away. In the last days of December 1563 the king went daily after supper to the sessions and stayed there till one or two in the morning. On Christmas Eve he actually had his supper in the church where the Cortes was being held. He then had his bed brought in.93 The hint, however, was lost on the Aragonese (the session went on till three in the morning). Finally the king declared that he was going to leave on 20 January. The deputies prevailed on him to stay a bit longer. Eventually, the last session was wound up formally on 23 January, typically at three in the morning. The very same morning, Philip set out for Barcelona.