Philip of Spain

by Henry Kamen

  Family obligations had their due place and might supersede paperwork. February 19,1584, for example, was a day when the empress María visited him and also a feast-day requiring his presence at mass. All work was shifted to the next day.61 He took regular rests when he literally saw no papers at all. The most important of these was his annual retreat in Holy Week, which he used to spend in the monastery of St Jerónimo in Madrid, or in some other convent, but which after 1583 he usually took in San Lorenzo.

  He was well aware that the task of governing the monarchy was Herculean. Ministers admired his capacity and application. ‘His Majesty's head,’ his former ambassador in Portugal observed, ‘must be the largest in the world, no other human could have one like it.’62 But without exception they reiterated that he took on too much. Philip agreed in principle, but saw no alternative. Inevitably he had to rely heavily on those around him, and when they failed him (as in the case of Antonio Pérez) he became morose. ‘One of the problems I have, and they are many,’ he confided six months after the Escobedo murder, ‘is having so few to help me, when I need a great many. This discourages me a great deal, because what can I do if I don't have many around to help? And they must be helpers rather than obstructors, as I think some tend to be.’63 Like most politicians in power, he began to lose confidence in others and feel that he alone was efficient. This became more marked in the 1580s.

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  The victory of the Spanish fleet over the Portuguese and French at Terceira in the summer of 1583 was seen as a basis for security ‘for Flanders’.64 Reflecting on the victory, which was won on the feast of St Anne, 26 July, Philip was convinced that his late wife Anna ‘must be playing a big part in these successes. I've always believed that the queen is playing a role in them.’ The signs were good: ‘it's a good start, but our business is not yet finished’.65 Santa Cruz wrote to him after the Azores victory to propose an immediate naval attack on England. The king thanked him, and consulted Parma about the feasibility of the idea. England was giving indirect help to the Dutch, and was now also directly aiding Don Antonio of Crato. The time had come to resolve the English question.

  The objectives were clear: to settle the Netherlands problem, and (as a prerequisite) to marginalise England. But the solutions proposed were very different. One key that seemed to offer itself was Mary queen of Scots. Her Scottish faction, and her ambassador in France, saw a Spanish military intervention through Scotland as the quickest way to solve the English question. It was a line that they had pursued consistently and never ceased to press on the Spanish representatives in Paris, one of whom as early as 1572 urged his government to invade England, using Alba's troops and ships.66

  The possibility was never far from Philip's thoughts. In 1576 he had shrugged off Don Juan's proposal for an invasion. But the prince's words triggered a sequence of ideas in his mind. Three weeks later, in November, after Don Juan was deeply embroiled in the affairs of the Netherlands and could hardly spare the time to pursue schemes, Philip sent him a long memorandum.67 Reading it, one can see that the king was virtually thinking aloud. The pros and cons of invasion are debated, the need for careful planning emphasised. The basis for any invasion must be support within the country: ‘no kingdom, no matter how weak or small, can be won without the help of the kingdom itself.’ An initial force of 4,000 infantry, supported by cavalry, would do the trick. Once the country is secured, there must be no repression of any sort: ‘there must be no talk of “rebels” or “heretics”’. In effect, he gave his approval to Don Juan's idea. There was one fundamental prerequisite. ‘In no way’ must the prince even think about the idea until peace was achieved in the Netherlands. It was the first blueprint for the Armada enterprise. And the details, though based on Don Juan's suggestions, were entirely Philip's.

  In August 1580, only a week after Lisbon capitulated, the king wrote to Alba suggesting that the professional troops, rather than being sent to Italy where most of them were based, be employed in pursuance of what the pope had pressed on him ‘insistently many times: the conquest of England’.68 The ease and success of the Portuguese enterprise stimulated him into believing it could be repeated against Elizabeth. There were, obviously, other strategies in respect of England. The Guise party in France, with whom Philip was in close touch, also hoped to be able to rely on Spanish troops. They went further, and plotted to assassinate Elizabeth as a first step to securing the succession for Mary.

  Philip, frankly, did not like any of the proposals. He informed his ambassador in France, the Netherlander Jean Baptiste de Tassis, that he was not party to any plots against the thrones of France or England.69 His first instinct was always to choose peace rather than conflict. In 1582, when Bernardino de Mendoza, his ambassador in England, offered him four possible ways of making Scotland Catholic, he rejected the idea of invasion and chose that of ‘preaching’.70 But conflict could not be avoided for long. In December 1583 in England the government learned of the Throckmorton plot, involving Mary, several great lords, and the Spanish ambassador. Bernardino de Mendoza was summoned before the Privy Council in January and given two weeks to leave the country. Fired by a personal hatred for the queen of England, he continued to dedicate the rest of his active political life to plotting against Elizabeth. He was appointed ambassador in France from September 1584.

  By now two different perspectives were to be found in government. The king continued to extend his confidence to Granvelle, but he showed impatience with the cardinal's habit of citing continually what the emperor would have done in such and such a situation.71 For the cardinal, the enemy was still France. The group of councillors headed by him and Idiáquez felt that war with France was ‘the most efficacious and direct solution to the affairs of Flanders’.72 It was the only way to cut short the military intervention that the duke of Anjou had been carrying out since 1578 on behalf of the rebellious States General.

  In order to obtain an alternative outlook on policy the king in 1583 recalled from Italy Juan de Zúñiga, younger brother of Requesens, who till then had served with distinction in Rome and in the viceroyalty of Naples. Zúñiga's outlook, in contrast to that of Granvelle, tended to be more orientated to the Mediterranean. The king agreed with him that the war in the north should end as soon as possible. Philip has often been presented as the knight-errant of militant Catholicism in these years,73 but his priority was always peace. He never ceased to express his concern for religion, yet in practice his policy decisions were more realistic. No imperialist fever reigned at the king's court.74 England was for him a political more than a religious problem. The struggle for security and peace in the north looked beyond England to a different prize: the Atlantic, and America.

  Fortunately the brilliant strategies of Parma had begun to turn the tide. The Union of Arras, formed in 1579, gave him a strategic base. While he continued his military campaign, the States General and Spain agreed to attempt a negotiated settlement. The Emperor Rudolf II, who from his sojourn in Spain had gained some insight into the Spanish mind, sponsored a peace conference in the city of Cologne.

  For a few months in 1579 the eyes of western Europe75 were on the international gathering in the splendid Rhine city, which Philip knew well.It was probably the first great peace conference of modern times. The Spanish delegation was led by the Sicilian grandee the duke of Terranova. The papacy was represented by the archbishop of Rossano, Castagna, who opened the sessions. The emperor sent the count of Schwarzenberg. Deputations came from the principalities of Trier, Cologne, Juliers and Liège. Parma sent a representative. The States General sent their delegation in three distinct groups: the south (led by the duke of Aerschot), Holland and Zealand, and the spokesmen for Orange. Terranova, who arrived at Cologne early in April, was pessimistic from the start. He wrote:‘I would like to say I have hopes of success, but I do not’.76 Talks began in May, even while military campaigns continued. But none of the parties was willing to make any significant concession. On the principal issue, religious toleration, P
hilip refused to budge.

  The conference ended in the second week of November, with agreement as far away as ever. Each side in the conflict was now forced to seek its own solution. In Brussels the States General sank their internal differences and after months of negotiation in January 1581 accepted as their new ruler François, formerly duke of Alençon and now duke of Anjou, brother of the French king. Years of French intervention had paid off. The archduke Matthias was induced to resign a few weeks later. The States, assembled in the Hague, then proceeded in July to depose Philip II as ruler of the Netherlands, alleging that he had tyrannically crushed their privileges.

  The act of abjuration was a legitimate legal device accepted by western tradition, though little used in the past. In February 1582 Anjou made a triumphal entry into the city of Antwerp,77 and was crowned duke of Brabant by the prince of Orange. Other triumphal entries followed. In fact, Anjou's success was blighted. His authority coexisted uneasily with that of William of Orange. Several provinces, for reasons of religion or local interest, rejected him. Any semblance of unity in the Netherlands was fast disappearing. ‘There is great disorder here,’ an English observer wrote, ‘for there is no man that will obey.’78 In Antwerp in January 1583 Anjou used his French troops to try to seize power. The attempt was repulsed by the Netherlanders. His authority evaporating, Anjou left the provinces in June 1583. He was offered more extensive powers a year later, but died in June 1584, of consumption, before he could sign. A month later the rebels were also deprived of the prince of Orange.

  The failure at Cologne had persuaded Spain that the issue must be forced. In June 1580 the prince of Orange was declared a traitor by the Parma government and a price put on his head. The decree received the full support of cardinal Granvelle. It was answered, before the end of the year, by the Apology of the Prince of Orange. Drawn up by one of his aides, but reflecting the prince's own sentiments, this brilliant tract vindicated Orange's struggle and denounced the tyranny of the king of Spain. Distributed through the courts of Europe, it set out in black and white the list of Philip's crimes: his murder of Don Carlos and Elizabeth Valois, his personal crimes and lascivious life.

  The ban on William of Orange, which declared him to be an ‘enemy of the human race’, was an explicit invitation to murder. Philip, like other rulers of his time, considered assassination a legitimate weapon of state.79 His confessor Alfonso de Castro in 1556 published in Paris a treatise which discussed the power of the magistrate to get rid of tyrants. The killing of a ‘tyrant’ (the word was taken to mean anyone who exercised power illegitimately or abused his power) was a question discussed by many other theologians, both Catholic and Protestant. Most approved of it.80 In the right circumstances, it might solve a situation and save lives.

  Oddly enough, Philip accepted assassination in theory but disliked it in practice. He scrupulously avoided any involvement. As early as 1567 he received an offer to murder William of Orange during a visit the prince was making to Navarre. He rejected the offer indignantly. He would have preferred to hear about it after the deed was done.81 Being told in advance made him a party to the conspiracy, and this he would on no account permit. For the same reason, he rejected a proposal by the duke of Guise to assassinate Elizabeth of England.82

  The idea of killing Orange had been around since at least 1573.83 The prince was under sentence of death by the council of Troubles. This gave legal justification to the idea. Alba's secretary Albornoz had a plan which Philip approved at the time. Later the idea was put to Requesens, was actively pursued by Escobedo in 1577 and subsequently by Bernardino de Mendoza in 1579. At the Cologne conference, Terranova paid a Flemish priest to look into it. After the failure at Cologne, Granvelle suggested the idea to Philip.84 The first serious attempt on Orange's life was in March 1582. The prince recovered within four months. The mortal blow was finally struck on 10 July 1584, by the Franche-Comtois Balthasar Gérard. The assassin's plan was known to Parma and his family was duly rewarded by Philip.

  Parma in these months was pressing home the Spanish advantage. He had the firm support of the southern provinces and a good supply of soldiers, 60,000 men in the summer of 1582. And the king managed to keep the money coming in. Ypres, Bruges and Ghent surrendered in 1584. On each occasion Parma showed moderation to the conquered. Brussels surrendered in March 1585. Finally, in August 1585 he achieved the capitulation of Antwerp. Philip was at Barbastro, in bed, when the news arrived. Overjoyed, he burst into Isabel's room at midnight to wake her. Granvelle was present at court to witness his enormous joy: ‘Not for the battle of St Quentin nor for Lepanto nor for the conquest of Portugal nor for Terceira nor for any other past success, has His Majesty shown such contentment as for this of Antwerp.’85 Parma received a special reward from the king. The Italian fortress of Piacenza, till now garrisoned by Spanish troops, was handed back to the Farnese family. The king's satisfaction with the year's events was completed by the arrival at Seville, early in October, of the silver fleet from America. It brought a rich cargo for the crown. ‘And so 1585, which threatened to be most disturbed,’ commented the Venetian ambassador, ‘by the grace of God will be brought to a happy conclusion.’86

  The king did not know that three days after the fall of Antwerp, Elizabeth of England committed herself by the secret treaty of Nonsuch to intervene militarily in the Netherlands. The Dutch rebels, deprived of both Anjou and Orange, had hoped that Henry III of France might come to their aid. But the only likely source of help was England, which this time collaborated willingly. In December 1585 the earl of Leicester arrived at Vlissingen to take charge of an English volunteer force of 8,000 men. It was not open war, but in practice England and Spain were now in a state of belligerence.

  The situation in France carried if anything even more serious implications for Spain. Anjou's death deprived the king, his childless elder brother Henry III, of an heir. The direct heir to the throne after June 1584 was automatically Henry of Bourbon, the Protestant king of Navarre. The possibility of a heretic ruler caused consternation among the Catholic noble factions in France. It was even more disturbing to Spain. If France became Protestant, the Netherlands would be lost, and all of western Europe beyond the Pyrenees. Philip accordingly instructed Jean Baptiste de Tassis to conclude a treaty of alliance87 with the Catholic League, the noble front headed by the powerful Guise family.

  By the end of 1585, in consequence, Philip had good reason for both confidence and alarm. The impressive conquests of Parma assured control of the greater part of the Netherlands. Through Mary in England, and the Guises in France, he stood a good chance of assuring a Catholic succession in both countries. Bernardino de Mendoza, ambassador in Paris from late 1584, negotiated and schemed to win support for his master: his hatred of Elizabeth kept him busy plotting with the queen of Scots.

  The very active diplomacy of Philip and his agents in these months was not to the liking of west European neighbours. Every move by Spain looked like aggression, and it was easy to interpret Spanish policy as a lust for power. In reality Philip was very far from sharing Mendoza's religious crusading zeal or his inflexible hostility to England. The only purpose he had in mind was protecting the Netherlands. He allied with the Guises (whom he never trusted) because in 1584 this seemed the best way in which to destabilise French politics and prevent further French interference in Flanders. The policy worked. Pressed on one side by the Protestants and Navarre, on the other by the Catholic League and the Guises, Henry III was unable to extend his interests to the north. Philip's links with likely rebels in England were inspired by the same motive. From first to last, his ventures into foreign entanglements were a result of his concern to protect the Netherlands.

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  On 19 January 1585, shortly after spending Christmas with his family in San Lorenzo and El Pardo, the king and his court set out for Saragossa for the marriage of Catalina to the duke of Savoy. Granvelle, now in poor health, was openly critical of travelling in mid-winter. He argued that the prince w
as ill, and the luckless courtiers would have to put up with inadequate lodgings. The king had no worries on this score. His own health was fair, and he would be lodged royally. Some months before, the French envoy judged that Philip had ‘a good appearance, full of health, showing by his vivacity his pleasure in his duties’.88

  An enormous expedition, including the entire royal family and a large group of lords and ladies, set out from Madrid. Only the empress María, in the Descalzas, stayed behind as the king's representative. Granvelle and the councils left separately a week later. Mindful of his position as king of Portugal, the king adopted Portuguese protocol in his procession, which was headed by a group of Portuguese clergy carrying appropriate insignia.89 Philip accompanied the party on horseback – a gallant display despite his infirmities – as far as the first overnight stop, in Barajas. The next stop was Alcalá, where they stayed nine days. During this time a visit was made to the university of Alcalá. Philip and his daughters slipped unannounced into a lecture being given by one of the professors, Iñigo de Mendoza, brother of the marquis of Mondéjar. They stayed for the entire hour, sitting quietly among the students.90

  Conditions on the trip turned out to be as Granvelle had foreseen. In Guadalajara the king's party was put up royally for three days by the duke of Infantado. On the first night there was a masque with music, on the last day there was a bull-run with nine bulls. But in Brihuega, where they passed the night after Guadalajara, there was not sufficient lodging for everyone. ‘We had a very bad night,’ wrote an archer of the king's Flemish guard, Henry Cock, ‘because, as the gospel says, there was no room in the inn.’91 The next day, 6 February, ‘it began to rain and sleet and I didn't know where to shelter. The same happened to all those who came with the king.’ The following day it snowed, and they had to work at clearing a way for the coaches.