by Henry Kamen
Writing in 1592, exactly a century after the discovery of the New World, the Franciscan friar Mendieta in his manuscript history of the missions looked back to the 1560s as the end of the golden age of the Church in America. Many other friars at the time had also entertained hopes that Spain would achieve something special in the New World. But by the 1570s those hopes were collapsing. In Mexico the great scholar fray Bernardino de Sahagún considered that the Church had lost out in much of Europe, leaving its torch to pass on to the New World. Now, he felt, the flame even in America was flickering, and the torch must pass on to Asia.57 There seemed, in short, to be a parting of the ways. The efforts of Philip's government, and the colonial system introduced by Francisco de Toledo, did not appear to Spanish colonists of benefit either to themselves or to the Indian population.
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At the beginning of 1574 the king carried out a long-planned act of piety. The site of the Escorial was intended to be in part a basilica for members of the royal family. Till then their principal resting-place had been in Granada, where Ferdinand and Isabella lay (and were left undisturbed). Philip meant that the members of the Habsburg dynasty should have a site of their own. In June 1573 the bodies of Elizabeth and Don Carlos were brought from Madrid to the Escorial. Now, in January 1574, Philip gave the order to translate the rest of the family. His parents Charles V and Isabel were brought from Yuste and Granada respectively. His first wife Maria of Portugal was brought from Granada (she had been transferred there from Valladolid in 1559). His aunt Eleanor, Charles's sister and queen of France, was brought from near Mérida. Charles's other sister Mary, queen of Hungary, was brought from Valladolid. Queen Juana the Mad was brought from Tordesillas. Finally, Philip's brothers Fernando and Juan, who had both died in infancy, were brought from Granada and Valladolid. The coffins were kept in an alcove under the high altar. Twelve years later they were moved to the special vault prepared for them.
Philip was also able to bring to an end the long-drawn-out saga of archbishop Carranza of Toledo, imprisoned by the Inquisition since 1559. The king's conduct in the affair was little short of shameful. From the first, he took the view that the reputation of the Inquisition was at issue, and should never be compromised. He therefore accepted without question the views of Carranza's accusers, and kept himself aloof from the proceedings. He and other members of the court made a formal declaration in Carranza's favour at the beginning of the case.58 After that, at no stage did he lift a finger to intervene or help. When eventually in 1565 Carranza's lawyer was allowed to appeal to the king, Philip is reported to have replied: ‘Tell him that I have always protected and will protect his rights and honour. My desire is that no harm befall the archbishop and that justice be done.’59 But neither in the years before nor in following years did the unfortunate archbishop receive the slightest gesture of sympathy from his king.
Philip's concern to protect the Inquisition, and to stop the pope intervening, were certainly among the reasons why Carranza's cause stood little chance in Spain. But his diatribes against the archbishop went beyond politics. When the pope and cardinals attempted to assume jurisdiction over the case, the king fumed and accused them of prejudging the issue by assuming Carranza to be innocent. In 1569, in a letter penned for him by Jerónimo Zurita, the famous historian and secretary of the Inquisition, he referred to Carranza as ‘a person of discredit and ill-fame not only in these realms but throughout Christendom’,60 a verdict so untrue that it betrays an evident blind spot in the king's judgment. In 1571 he tried to influence the pope's verdict on the case by eliciting further denunciations from theologians in Castile.61 In 1574 he went further. He made Inquisitor-General Quiroga force those bishops who had originally approved the archbishop's Catechism to reverse their views.62
It can be said in Philip's favour that he allowed pro-Carranza views to circulate. His normal policy was never to interfere with the free expression of opinion. He commissioned his own annalist, Ambrosio de Morales, to write an official narrative of Carranza's arrest; the account turned out to be favourable to Carranza. Other books published in the king's lifetime usually mentioned Carranza in terms of respect and admiration. Despite the king's attitude, the archbishop's name continued to be held in high repute among his contemporaries in Spain.
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In 1574 Philip, willing as always to follow the logic of events, prepared to turn his back on discredited policies in Flanders. They were policies, moreover, he could no longer afford in financial terms. In his council of State the majority now favoured an end to the violence in the Netherlands. From France Francés de Álava wrote advising against the further use of force: ‘In my poor judgment,’ he wrote to the king, ‘another way must be sought, even though it may seem in part to prejudice our honour (reputación).’63 From his position in Italy as viceroy of Naples, cardinal Granvelle also urged the king to change his approach. In his correspondence with others the cardinal did not mince his words. Spain's policy was a disaster: ‘If they do not win the goodwill of the people there, even sending 20,000 Spaniards will achieve nothing.’ As for Alba, for whom he had nothing but praise as a person, ‘the states of Flanders have been ruined under his government’. In short, he reflected in July 1574, the king's advisers had not the slightest idea of the affairs of the Netherlands: ‘they do not understand nor will understand in very many years’.64 The cardinal was no less frank in his letters to the king. ‘For the last ten years,’ he told Philip in 1576, ‘I have always written that the policy adopted was very mistaken.’65
The debate in 1574 among those who governed Spain was one of the most momentous ever to occur in the history of an imperial nation. Philip well remembered the debates over America, when his father had taken the unprecedented step of suspending the conquests. Now, a quarter of a century later, his own measures were being scrutinised. The matter virtually monopolised his time, leaving (commented his secretary) ‘little space to attend to other things’.66
In the Netherlands, some part in the debate was played by two Spaniards who questioned the policies of their country. In Madrid, a Flemish minister also made a decisive contribution.
Benito Arias Montano and Fadrique Furió Ceriol were major scholars and humanists in their own right and the king specifically sought their advice on the situation in the Netherlands. A product of the Erasmian generation at the university of Alcalá, theologian at Trent, chaplain to Philip II and the most distinguished Hebraist in Spain, Montano was sent by the king to Antwerp in 1568 to prepare a new multilingual edition of the Bible. In 1573 the king also asked him to advise on events in the Netherlands. His letters helped powerfully to change Philip's attitude to Alba. Subsequently, the king asked him to stay on and advise Requesens, who consulted closely with him. In his letters Montano condemned certain Spanish attitudes and defended the views of the Netherlanders. ‘When a whole people clamours that there is oppression,’ he wrote to Philip, ‘it is certain that it is so.’67 Montano retained Philip's full confidence, and was later appointed by him librarian of the Escorial. But the humanist had many other battles to fight before he left Flanders in April 1575. The Inquisitor-General and bishop of Cuenca, Gaspar de Quiroga, who now and later adhered to a hard line on Flanders,68 in 1574 tried to have him recalled ‘because of the harm he might do there if he shows his true colours’.
Furió had first been recommended to Philip by Charles V in the 1550s, and for the rest of his life enjoyed the king's protection. From 1546 to 1564 he had lived outside his native Valencia, mainly in Flanders but also travelling widely throughout the continent. A distinguished humanist,69 he published at Antwerp in 1559 a manual of guidance for the young king, The Counsel and Counsellors of the Prince. Philip valued his advice, but in 1563 ordered him back to Spain, for fear that heterodox influences were at work on him. In 1573, encouraged by the king's new policy on the Netherlands, Furió wrote his important Remedies, a full-scale programme for change in the north. Its main points seem to have been acceptable to Philip. In 1574 the k
ing sent him back to the Netherlands to reconsider options in the light of the policy pursued by Requesens. Furió recommended in the summer of 1575 that the only way to split the southern provinces from Orange was to restore their old privileges in full.70 The departure of the Spanish troops early in 1577 – a concession favoured by Furió, who accompanied the army to Milan – did not, unfortunately, bring a solution any nearer. From this date the king lost confidence in Furió. He continued to protect him, but no longer consulted him.71
Joachim Hopperus, representative of the States of the Netherlands in Spain, had been resident at the Spanish court since 1565. Like Granvelle, he tended to support a tough line, and was in favour of the king's decision in April 1565 to prosecute heresy. But he was also openly opposed to Alba's intervention. From as early as 1566 he tried without success to interest Philip in an alternative policy.72 Granvelle some years later expressed the view that ‘Hopperus preferred to please everybody and push his own interests rather than carry out his obligations with the required application and energy’.73 In addition to his excessive fawning, Hopperus suffered from the handicap that he never learned Spanish well enough to be able to write it, and his memoranda in Madrid had to be translated before anyone could read them.74 Despite all this, his role in the making of policy was outstanding.
The debates of 1574 were frank and open. In a remarkable session of the council at Aranjuez on 28 January 1574, the duke of Medinaceli and Diego de Covarrubias attacked the Tenth Penny, and Dr Andrés Ponce de León astonishingly claimed that the Flemish had a right to their liberties just as the Aragonese had a right to theirs.75 Philip was left little option. In March he sent letters to Requesens authorising him to abolish the council of Troubles and the Tenth Penny, and issue a general pardon. The grand commander was already convinced of the need for an about-face. Alba, he said, had arrived in a pacified Netherlands, but he had left it in ruins. The only viable solution – it was perhaps the first time the idea was suggested, over twenty years before Philip adopted it – was for the Infanta Isabel to be made ruler of an independent Netherlands, with a son of the emperor as her husband.76
The concessions failed to achieve their desired effect. The pardon was considered inadequate. The States General met on 7 June and repeated its demands, of which the most fundamental had always been that the Spanish troops be withdrawn. By now the troops had begun a series of mutinies which ended by paralysing the whole Spanish war effort.77 In May 1574 the soldiers at Antwerp mutinied for their pay. In November those in Holland mutinied, deserted, and left the province to the enemy. For a helpless and despairing Requesens it was ‘the most terrible time in the world’.78 The king, preparing to celebrate Christmas in the monastery of St Jerónimo, was cast into gloom by the mutinies. ‘The situation is desperate over there,’ he reflected, ‘and every day more so for us over here.’79
In December 1574, Philip recognised ‘that it is not possible to make progress on Flanders through a policy of war’.80 He set up a special committee of four to meet urgently and reconsider policy.81 The committee had two main tasks: resolve serious internal differences in order to agree on aims; and offer a new deal to the Netherlanders. It met seven times between 14 and 30 December. Both Hopperus and Alba were consulted at every stage.
The failure to find a speedy solution disposed Requesens in September 1574 to recommend a further resort to military force. But he quickly realised that this too was impracticable. In January 1575 he summarised the situation:
I shall say only that matters here are in such a terrible state, and so impossible to sustain, that we will have to give in to all they want, so long as religion is excepted. And we will have to act so quickly that there will be no time to consult … I agree with Hopperus's opinion: that Your Majesty should send someone of the blood royal, remove all foreigners, and restore the old form of government.82
In short, capitulation. At this stage the mediation of the emperor Maximilian II was sought. With his help, talks between the parties began at Breda in March 1575. Requesens set up a parallel committee at Antwerp.
When the negotiations with the States General began in 1575, from being a marginal figure at the Spanish court Hopperus was suddenly propelled into a key role. The negotiators at Breda dealt directly with him.83 Philip turned to him for advice, carefully read all his memoranda, and adopted his ideas as his own. Even finance was affected. One of the king's main bankers, the house of Fugger, ‘will not make a move [Philip reported with chagrin] without the opinion of Hopperus’.84 All the ministers were bypassed in favour of Hopperus. ‘Everything has to go through his hands,’ some of them complained.85 Philip's special committee of four grumbled loudly but recognised that ‘it is necessity’ that forced acceptance of the new conditions.86 In a note to Hopperus in April 1576 the king wrote: ‘I am very pleased that you agree with the decision I have taken … I am so satisfied with all you say that I have decided to keep you at my side for this period.’ He accepted fully Hopperus's proposal that a general pardon, with no exceptions whatever, be issued. On points of detail, Philip would claim to have had the same idea before Hopperus: ‘This was a good idea, which also occurred to me … In this your opinion is the same as mine.’87 When Hopperus wanted to see him, Philip made himself immediately available. ‘Hopperus has pressed me for an audience,’ he wrote in September, ‘and so I want you to come tomorrow so as not to waste time.’88 Unfortunately, not much time remained. Hopperus's good services were terminated by his death in December 1576.89 To the end he retained the king's confidence, though Philip was already beginning to see that Hopperus's policies were not bearing the fruit he hoped for.
The king's remarkable ability to change both policy and advisers when the need arose demonstrates that he did not have a closed mind and was capable of accepting realities. But he was most unhappy about the situation. ‘The truth is,’ he told Quiroga in August 1576, ‘that the affairs of Flanders keep me so busy and preoccupied that they don't leave me time to attend as I should to other matters.’90
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The volte-face over Flanders came at a time when discontent had reached a peak in Castile. To help meet its debts, the government from 1573 raised the rate of indirect taxation. There were sharp conflicts with the members of the Cortes of Castile, which held periodic sessions between April 1573 and September 1575. As was normal, a committee from the Cortes negotiated with the president of the council of Finance, Juan de Ovando, and other officials. At the same time the government put direct pressure on the cities to give their deputies powers to grant extra taxes. The summer and autumn of 1574 were particularly full of intense discussions on how to resolve the problem of income. ‘Our money runs out in months, not years,’ the king noted in May 1574. Flanders was the main headache: ‘that is the biggest risk: so many soldiers, and no money’.91 ‘I believe that the Flanders thing will collapse for lack of money, as I have always felt’.92 The business of the committee on Finance displaced other business. Philip was snowed under with paperwork, ‘a pile of papers’ in his own words. In the heat of the last Saturday of June in Madrid, he sighed: ‘I shall be happy to escape from here in two or three days, I can't do it before’.93 He had to suffer a few more days in the capital (‘I've been over three hours with Juan de Ovando,’ he complained five days later, ‘and the matter is still left over for another day’)94 before fleeing to San Lorenzo.
The king frequently downplayed his own ability in financial matters. Reading a proposal by a Genoese banker to resolve the current situation, he noted: ‘it seems to me that he is right in some things, but he must understand them better than I do, since I don't understand them at all’.95 It was not true that he did not understand. He had been dealing with these problems for some thirty years. No other ruler of his time had more experience of and perception in matters of state finance. He took in both the broad perspective and the minute detail, but there were elements which inevitably escaped him. Early in 1576 he refused to spend time looking at some documents handed him by o
ne of his accountants. ‘You know that I don't understand this subject.’96 They were referred to another minister.
Through the summer and autumn of 1574 he devoted much of his time to the urgent issue of resolving the financial situation. The cities in the Cortes had offered in December 1573 to raise more money if they were given the right to administer the taxes permanently. The treasury opposed this, suggesting simply that Castile's principal indirect tax, the alcabala, be increased. The Cortes deputies came up with a counterproposal, to introduce a tax on flour.97
A committee with members from the Cortes and the treasury met in regular session. In the afternoon of 9 September 1574 Philip had a meeting with two of the Cortes deputies, and discussed the financial situation with them. That night he sat down and wrote a long memorandum on how to balance the current budget. He had for months been struggling with the cities to reach agreement over taxation, and he now expressed some sympathy with them. But they were mistaken to oppose a rise in the alcabala. Either the alcabala had to rise or a tax must be put on flour, the basic item of sustenance: