VI. DON CARLOS
His Education and Character.--Dangerous Illness.--Extravagant Behavior.--Opinions respecting him.--His Connection with the Flemings.--Project of Flight.--Insane Conduct.--Arrest.
1567, 1568.
We must now, after a long absence, return to the shores of Spain, where events were taking place of the highest importance to the future fortunes of the monarchy. At the time when the tragic incidents described in the preceding Book were passing in the Netherlands, others, not less tragic, if we may trust to popular rumor, were occurring in the very palace of the monarch. I allude to the death of Don Carlos, prince of Asturias, and that of Isabella of Valois, Philip's young and beautiful queen. The relations in which the two parties stood to each other, their untimely fate, and the mystery in which it was enveloped, have conspired with the sombre, unscrupulous character of Philip to suggest the most horrible suspicions of the cause of their death. The mystery which hung over them in their own time has not been dissipated by the researches of later chroniclers. For that very reason, it has proved an inexhaustible theme for fiction, until it might be thought to have passed from the domain of history into that of romance. It has been found especially suited to the purposes of the drama; and the dramatic literature of Europe contains more than one masterpiece from the hand of genius, which displays in sombre coloring the loves and the misfortunes of Carlos and Isabella.[1401]
[Sidenote: HIS EDUCATION AND CHARACTER.]
The time for discussing so dark and intricate a subject had not arrived while the Spanish archives were jealously locked up even from native scholars. But now that happily a more liberal system has prevailed, and access has been given to the dread repositories of the secrets of the Spanish sovereigns, the time seems to have come for investigating this mysterious story. And if I cannot boast that I have been able to dispel the doubts that have so long gathered around the subject, I may at least flatter myself that, with the materials at my command, I have the means of placing the reader in a better point of view than has yet been enjoyed, for surveying the whole ground, and forming his own conclusions.
Don Carlos was born on the eighth of July, 1545. His mother, Mary of Portugal, then only eighteen years of age, died a few days after giving birth to her ill-fated child. Thus deprived from the cradle of a mother's watchful care, he experienced almost as little of his father's; for, until Carlos was fourteen years old, Philip was absent most of the time, either in the Low Countries or in England. The care of the child was intrusted, during the greater part of this period, to Philip's sister, the Regent Joanna,--an excellent woman, but who, induced probably by the feeble constitution of Carlos, is said to have shown too much indulgence to the boy, being more solicitous to secure his bodily health than to form his character. In our easy faith in the miracles claimed for education, it sometimes happens that we charge on the parent, or the preceptor, the defects that may be more reasonably referred to the vicious constitution of the child.
As Carlos grew older, Philip committed the care of his instruction to Honorato Juan, a member of the emperor's household. He was a well-trained scholar, and a man of piety as well as learning; and soon after assuming the task of the prince's preceptor, he embraced the religious profession. The correspondence of Honorato Juan with Philip, then in Flanders, affords a view of the proficiency of Carlos when eleven or twelve years old. The contentment which the king evinces in the earlier letters diminishes as we advance; and anxious doubts are expressed, as he gathers the unwelcome information from his tutor of his pupil's indifference to his studies.[1402]
In the year 1556, Charles the Fifth stopped some time at Valladolid, on his way to his cloistered retreat at Yuste. He there saw his grandson, and took careful note of the boy, the heir to the vast dominions which he had himself so recently relinquished. He told over his campaigns to Carlos, and how he had fled at Innsbruck, where he barely escaped falling into the hands of the enemy. Carlos, who listened eagerly, interrupted his grandfather, exclaiming, "I never would have fled!" Charles endeavored to explain the necessity of the case; but the boy sturdily maintained, that he never would have fled,--amusing and indeed delighting the emperor, who saw in this the mettle of his own earlier days.[1403] Yet Charles was not blind to the defects of his grandson,--to the wayward, overbearing temper, which inferred too much indulgence on the part of his daughter the regent. He reprehended Carlos for his want of deference to his aunt; and he plainly told the latter, that, if she would administer more wholesome correction to the boy, the nation would have reason to thank her for it.[1404]
After the emperor had withdrawn to his retreat, his mind, which kept its hold, as we have seen, on all matters of public interest beyond the walls of the monastery, still reverted to his grandson, the heir of his name and of his sceptre. At Simancas the correspondence is still preserved which he carried on with Don Garcia de Toledo, a brother of the duke of Alva, who held the post of ayo, or governor of the prince. In one of that functionary's letters, written in 1557, when Carlos was twelve years old, we have a brief chronicle of the distribution of the prince's time, somewhat curious, as showing the outlines of a royal education in that day.
Before seven in the morning Carlos rose, and by half-past eight had breakfasted, and attended mass. He then went to his studies, where he continued till the hour of dinner. What his studies were we are not told. One writer of the time says, among other things, he read Cicero's Offices, in order the better to learn to control his passions.[1405] At eleven he dined. He then amused himself with his companions, by playing at quoits, or at trucos, a kind of billiards, or in fencing, and occasionally riding. At half-past three came a light repast, the merienda; after which he listened to reading, or, if the weather was fine, strolled in the fields. In the evening he supped; and at half-past nine, having gone through the prayers of his rosary, he went to bed, where, as his ayo says, he usually made but one nap of it till the morning.--It was certainly a primitive way of life, in which more regard seems to have been had to the cravings of the body than of the mind, and as regular in its routine as the monastic life of his grandfather at Yuste. Yet Don Garcia does not fail to intimate his discontent with the want of interest shown by his pupil, not merely in his studies, but in fencing, cane-playing, and other manly exercises, so essential to the education of a cavalier of that day.[1406] He notices, at the same time, the first symptoms of those bilious attacks which already menaced the prince's constitution, and so effectually undermined it in later years.[1407]
In another epistle, Don Garcia suggests that it might be well for the emperor to allow Carlos to visit him at Yuste, trusting that his grandfather's authority would accomplish what his own had failed to do.[1408] But this suggestion found no favor, apparently, with the royal recluse, who probably was not disposed to do penance himself by receiving so troublesome an inmate in his family. The emperor's own death, which occurred shortly after this, spared him the misery of witnessing the disastrous career of his grandson.
[Sidenote: HIS EDUCATION AND CHARACTER.]
The reports of the Venetian ministers--those precious documents that contain so much instruction in respect to matters both of public and domestic interest--make occasional allusions to the prince, at this period. Their notices are by no means flattering. They describe Carlos as of a reckless, impatient temper, fierce, and even cruel, in his disposition,[1409] and so arrogant as to be unwilling to stand with his head uncovered, for any long time, in the presence of the emperor or his father.[1410] Yet this harsh picture is somewhat redeemed by other traits; for he was generous, though to a degree of prodigality,--giving away his trinkets and jewels, even his clothes, in default of money. He had a fearless heart, with a strong passion for a military life. He was far from frivolous in his tastes, despising buffoons, and saying himself so many good things that his tutor carefully made a collection of them.[1411] This portrait of a youth scarcely fourteen years old seems as highly overcharged, whether for good or for evil, as portraits of princes usually are.
Yet the state of the prince's health may be fairly mentioned in extenuation of his defects,--at least of his infirmity of temper. For his bilious temperament already began to show itself in the form of intermittent fever, with which he continued to be afflicted for the remainder of his life. Under this depressing disorder, his spirits sank, his body wasted away, and his strength failed to such a degree, that it was feared he might not reach the age of manhood.[1412]
In the beginning of 1560, Isabella of France came to Castile, and on the second of February was united to Philip. By the preliminaries of the treaty of Cateau-Cambresis, her hand had been assigned to Don Carlos; but Mary Tudor having died before the ratification of the treaty, the name of the father was substituted for that of the son, and the royal maiden was affianced to Philip.
The marriage ceremony was performed with great splendor, at Toledo. Carlos was present; and, as he gazed on the beautiful bride, it is not improbable that some feelings of resentment may have mingled with regret, when he thought of the unceremonious manner in which her hand had been transferred from him to his father. But we should be slow to believe that Isabella could have felt anything like the tender sentiment that romantic historians have attributed to her, for a boy of fourteen, who had so few personal attractions to recommend him.
On the twenty-second of the same month, Carlos was formally recognized by the cortes of Castile as heir to the crown. On this occasion, the different members of the royal family were present, together with the great nobles and the representatives of the commons. The prince rode in the procession on a white horse, superbly caparisoned while his dress, resplendent with jewels, formed a sad contrast to the sallow and sickly countenance of its wearer.[1413] He performed his part of the ceremony with dignity and feeling. When Joanna, his aunt, and his uncle, Don John of Austria, after taking the oath, would have knelt, according to custom, to kiss his hand, he would not allow it, but affectionately raised and embraced them. But when the duke of Alva inadvertently omitted the latter act of obeisance, the prince received him so coldly, that the haughty nobleman, rebuked by his manner, perceived his error, and humbly acknowledged it.[1414]
In the autumn of the following year, with the hope of mending his health by change of air, Carlos removed to Alcalá de Henares, famous for its university founded by the great Ximenes. He had for his companions two youths, both destined to a conspicuous part in the history of the times. One was Philip's illegitimate brother, Don John of Austria, the hero of Lepanto; the other was the prince's cousin, Alexander Farnese, son of Margaret of Parma, who was now in the course of training which was one day to make him the greatest captain of his time. The three boys were nearly of the same age; but in their accomplishments and personal appearance the uncle and the cousin afforded as strong a contrast to their royal kinsman, as in the brilliant fortunes that awaited them.[1415]
Carlos had not been at Alcalá many months, before he met with an accident, which was attended with most disastrous consequences. One evening in April, 1562, as he was descending a flight of stairs, he made a misstep, and fell headlong down five or six stairs against a door at the bottom of the passage. He was taken up senseless, and removed to his chamber, where his physicians were instantly summoned, and the necessary remedies applied.[1416] At first it seemed only a simple contusion on the head, and the applications of the doctors had the desired effect. But soon the symptoms became more alarming. Fever set in. He was attacked by erysipelas; his head swelled to an enormous size; he became totally blind; and this was followed by delirium. It now appeared that the skull was fractured. The royal physicians were called in; and after a stormy consultation, in which the doctors differed, as usual, as to the remedies to be applied, it was determined to trepan the patient. The operation was carefully performed; a part of the bone of the skull was removed; but relief was not obtained.[1417]
[Sidenote: DANGEROUS ILLNESS AND RECOVERY.]
Meanwhile the greatest alarm spread through the country, at the prospect of losing the heir apparent. Processions were everywhere made to the churches, prayers were put up, pilgrimages were vowed, and the discipline was unsparingly administered by the fanatical multitude, who hoped by selfinflicted penance to avert the wrath of Heaven from the land. Yet all did not avail.
We have a report of the case from the pen of Dr. Olivares, the prince's own physician. Some of the remedies were of a kind that would look strangely enough if reported by a medical journal of our own day. After all efforts of professional skill had failed, and the unguent of a Moorish doctor, famous among the people, had been rubbed on the body without success, it was resolved to make a direct appeal to Heaven. In the monastery of Jesus Maria lay the bones of a holy Franciscan, Fray Diego, who had died a hundred years before, in the reign of Henry the Fourth, in the odor of sanctity. King Philip and his court went in solemn procession to the church; and in their presence, the mouldering remains of the good father, still sweet to the nostrils, as we are told, were taken from their iron coffin, and transported to the prince's apartment. They were there laid on his bed; and the cloth that wrapped the skull of the dead man was placed on the forehead of Carlos.[1418] Fortunately the delirious state of the patient prevented the shock that might otherwise have been given to his senses. That very night the friar appeared to Carlos in his sleep. He was muffled in his Franciscan robe, with a green girdle about his waist, and a cross of reeds in his hand; and he mildly bade him "be of good cheer, for that he would certainly recover." From this time, as the physician who reports the case admits, the patient began speedily to mend. The fever subsided, his head returned to its natural dimensions, his eyes were restored to sight. At the end of something less than two months from the date of the accident, Carlos, who had shown a marvellous docility throughout his illness,[1419] was enabled to walk into the adjoining apartment, and embrace his father, who, during the critical period of his son's illness, had established his residence at Alcalá, showing the solicitude natural to a parent in such an extremity.
The merit of the cure was of course referred to Fray Diego.[1420] An account of the miracle, duly authenticated, was transmitted to Rome; and the holy man, on the application of Philip, received the honors of canonization from the pontiff. The claims of the new saint to the credit of achieving the cure were confidently asserted by the Castilian chroniclers of that and succeeding ages; nor have I met with any one hardy enough to contest them, unless it be Dr. Olivares himself, who, naturally jealous of his professional honor, intimated his conviction,--this was before the canonization,--that with some allowance for the good wrought by Fray Diego's intercession and the prayers of the righteous, the recovery of the prince was mainly to be referred to the skill of his physicians.[1421]
But the recovery of Carlos does not seem to have been so complete as was at first thought. There is good reason to suppose that the blow on his head did some permanent injury to the brain. At least this may be inferred from the absurd eccentricities of his subsequent conduct, and the reckless manner in which he abandoned himself to the gratification of his passions. In 1565, on his recovery from one of those attacks of quartan-fever which still beset him, Philip remarked, with a sigh, to the French minister, St. Sulpice, "that he hoped his repeated warnings might restrain the prince, for the future, from making such fatal inroads on his health."[1422] But the unfortunate young man profited as little by such warnings as by his own experience. Persons about the court at this period have left us many stories of his mad humors, which formed the current scandal at Madrid. Brantôme, who was there in 1564, says that Carlos would patrol the streets with a number of young nobles, of the same lawless habits with himself, assaulting the passengers with drawn swords, kissing the women, and insulting even ladies of the highest rank with the most opprobrious epithets.[1423]
It was the fashion for the young gallants of the court to wear very large boots. Carlos had his made even larger than usual, to accommodate a pair of small pistols. Philip, in order to prevent the mischievous practice, ordered his son's boots to be made of smaller dimensions. But when the bootmaker brought them to the palace, Carlos, in a rage, gave him a beating; and then, ordering the leather to be cut in pieces and stewed, he forced the unlucky mechanic to swallow this unsavory fricassee--as much as he could get down of it--on the spot.[1424]
On one occasion, he made a violent assault on his governor, Don Garcia de Toledo, for some slight cause of offence. On another, he would have thrown his chamberlain, Don Alonzo de Cordova, out of the window. These noblemen complained to Philip, and besought him to release them from a service where they were exposed to affronts which they could not resent. The king consented, transferring them to his own service, and appointed Ruy Gomez de Silva, prince of Eboli, his favorite minister, the governor of Carlos.[1425]
[Sidenote: HIS DISPOSITION.]
But the prince was no respecter of persons. Cardinal Espinosa, president of the Council of Castile, and afterwards grand-inquisitor, banished a player named Cisneros from the palace, where he was to have performed that night for the prince's diversion. It was probably by Philip's orders. But however that may be, Carlos, meeting the cardinal, seized him roughly by the collar, and, laying his hand on his poniard, exclaimed, "You scurvy priest, do you dare to prevent Cisneros from playing before me? By the life of my father, I will kill you!"[1426] The trembling prelate, throwing himself on his knees, was too happy to escape with his life from the hands of the infuriated prince. Whether the latter had his way in the end, in regard to the comedian, is not stated. But the stuff of which a grand-inquisitor is made is not apt to be of the yielding sort.
A more whimsical anecdote is told us by Nobili, the Tuscan ambassador, then resident at the court. Carlos, having need of money, requested a merchant, named Grimaldo, to advance him the sum of fifteen hundred ducats. The money-lender readily consented, thanking the prince for the favor done him, and adding, in the usual grandiloquent vein of the Castilian, that "all he had was at his disposal."[1427] Carlos took him at his word, and forthwith demanded a hundred thousand ducats. In vain poor Grimaldo, astounded by the request, protested that "it would ruin his credit; that what he had said was only words of compliment." Carlos replied, "he had no right to bandy compliments with princes; and if he did not in four and twenty hours pay the money to the last real, he and his family would have cause to rue it." It was not till after much negotiation that Ruy Gomez succeeded in prevailing on the prince to be content with the more modest sum of sixty thousand ducats, which was accordingly furnished by the unfortunate merchant.[1428] The money thus gained, according to Nobili, was squandered as suddenly as it was got.
There are happily some touches of light to relieve the shadows with which the portrait is charged. Tiepolo, who was ambassador from Venice at the court of Madrid in 1567, when Carlos was twenty-two years old, gives us some account of the prince. He admits his arrogant and fiery temper, but commends his love of truth, and, what we should hardly have expected, the earnestness with which he engaged in his devotions. He was exceedingly charitable, asking, "Who would give, if princes did not?"[1429] He was splendid in his way of living, making the most liberal recompense, not only to his own servants, but to the king's, who were greatly attached to him.[1430] He was ambitious of taking part in the conduct of public affairs, and was sorely discontented when excluded from them--as seems to have been usually the case--by his father.[1431]
It was certainly to the prince's credit, that he was able to inspire those who approached him most nearly with strong feelings of personal attachment. Among these were his aunt Joanna, the regent, and the queen, Isabella, who, regarding him with an interest justified by the connection, was desirous of seeing him married to her own sister. His aunt Mary and her husband, the Emperor Maximilian, also held Carlos, whom they had known in early days, in the kindest remembrance, and wished to secure his hand for their eldest daughter. A still more honorable testimony is borne by the relations in which he stood to his preceptor, Honorato Juan, who, at the prince's solicitation, had been raised to the bishopric of Osma. Carlos would willingly have kept this good man near his own person. But he was detained in his diocese; and the letters from time to time addressed to him by his former pupil, whatever may be thought of them as pieces of composition, do honor to the prince's heart. "My best friend in this life," he affectionately writes at the close of them, "I will do all that you desire."[1432] Unfortunately, this good friend and counsellor died in 1566. By his will, he requested Carlos to select for himself any article among his effects that he preferred. He even gave him authority to change the terms of the instrument, and make any other disposition of his property that he thought right![1433] It was a singular proof of confidence in the testator, unless we are to receive it merely as a Spanish compliment,--somewhat perilous, as the case of Grimaldo proves, with a person who interpreted compliments as literally as Carlos.
From all this, there would seem to have been the germs of generous qualities in the prince's nature, which, under a happier culture, might have been turned to some account. But he was placed in that lofty station which exposed him to the influence of parasites, who flattered his pride, and corrupted his heart, by ministering to his pleasures. From the eminence which he occupied, even the smallest errors and eccentricities became visible to the world, and the objects of unsparing criticism. Somewhat resembling his father in person, he was different from him both in his good qualities and his defects, so that a complete barrier was raised between them. Neither party could comprehend the other; and the father was thus destitute of the means which he might else have had of exerting an influence over the son. The prince's dissipated way of life, his perpetual lapses from decorum, or, to speak more properly, his reckless defiance of decency, outraged his father, so punctilious in his own observance of the outward decencies of life. He may well have dwelt on such excesses of Carlos with pain; but it may be doubted if the prince's more honorable desire to mingle in public affairs was to the taste of Philip, who was too tenacious of power willingly to delegate it, beyond what was absolutely necessary, to his own ministers. The conduct of his son, unhappily, furnished him with a plausible ground for distrusting his capacity for business.
[Sidenote: HIS CONNECTION WITH THE FLEMINGS.]
Thus distrusted, if not held in positive aversion, by his father; excluded from any share in the business of the state, as well as from a military life, which would seem to have been well suited to his disposition; surrounded by Philip's ministers, whom Carlos, with too much reason, regarded as spies on his actions,--the unhappy young man gave himself up to a reckless course of life, equally ruinous to his constitution and to his character; until the people, who had hailed with delight the prospect of a native-born prince, now felt a reasonable apprehension as to his capacity for government.[1434]
But while thus an object of distrust at home, abroad more than one sovereign coveted an alliance with the heir of the Spanish monarchy. Catharine de Medicis would gladly have secured his hand for a younger sister of Isabella, in which project she was entirely favored by the queen. This was in 1565; but Philip, in his usual procrastinating spirit, only replied, "They must reflect upon it."[1435] He looked with a more favorable eye on the proposals warmly pressed by the emperor and empress of Germany, who, as we have seen, still cherished a kindly remembrance of Carlos, and wished his union with their daughter Anne. That princess, who was a year younger than her cousin, claimed Spain as her native land, having been born there during the regency of Maximilian. But although the parties were of suitable age, and Philip acquiesced in the proposals for their marriage, his want of confidence in his son, if we may credit the historians, still moved him to defer the celebration of it.[1436] Anne did indeed live to mount the throne of Castile, but as the wife, not of Carlos, but of Philip, after the death of Isabella. Thus, by a singular fatality, the two princesses who had been destined for the son were each of them married to the father.
The revolutionary movement in the Netherlands was at this time the great subject that engaged the attention of the Spaniards; and Carlos is reported to have taken a lively interest in it. According to Antonio Perez, the Flemings then at the court made positive overtures to the prince to head the revolt.[1437] Strada speaks of Bergen and Montigny, then at Madrid, as the channel of communication through which Carlos engaged to settle the affairs of that distracted country.[1438] That a person of his ardent temper should have felt sympathy with a people thus bravely struggling for its liberties, is not improbable; nor would one with whom "to think and to speak was the same thing,"[1439] be at all unlikely to express himself on the subject with much more freedom than discretion. And it may have been in allusion to this that his almoner, Suarez, in a letter without date, implores the prince "to abandon his dangerous designs, the illusion of the Evil One, which cannot fail to bring mischief to himself and disquiet to the monarchy!"[1440] The letter concludes with a homily, in which the good doctor impresses on the prince the necessity of filial obedience, by numerous examples, from sacred and profane story, of the sad end of those who had impiously rejected the counsels of their parents.[1441]
But although it is true that this hypothesis would explain much that is enigmatical in the subsequent history of Carlos, I must confess I have met with no confirmation of it in the correspondence of those who had the direction of affairs in the Low Countries, nor in the charges alleged against Montigny himself,--where an attempt to suborn the heir-apparent, one might suppose, would have been paraded as the most heinous offence. Still, that Carlos regarded himself as the proper person to be intrusted with the mission to the Netherlands is evident from his treatment of Alva, when that nobleman was appointed to the command of the army.
On that occasion, as the duke came to pay his respects to him previous to his departure, the prince fiercely said, "You are not to go to Flanders; I will go there myself." Alva endeavored to pacify him, saying that it was too dangerous a mission for the heir to the throne; that he was going to quiet the troubles of the country, and prepare it for the coming of the king, when the prince could accompany his father, if his presence could be spared in Castile. But this explanation served only to irritate Carlos the more; and, drawing his dagger, he turned suddenly on the duke, exclaiming, "You shall not go; if you do, I will kill you." A struggle ensued,--an awkward one for Alva, as to have injured the heir-apparent might have been construed into treason. Fortunately, being much the stronger of the two, he grappled with Carlos, and held him tight, while the latter exhausted his strength in ineffectual struggles to escape. But no sooner was the prince released, than he turned again, with the fury of a madman, on the duke, who again closed with him, when the noise of the fray brought in one of the chamberlains from an adjoining room; and Carlos, extricating himself from the iron grasp of his adversary, withdrew to his own apartment.[1442]
Such an outrage on the person of his minister was regarded by Philip as an indignity to himself. It widened the breach, already too wide, between father and son; and so great was this estrangement, that, when living in the same palace, they seem to have had no communication with each other.[1443] Much of Philip's time, however, at this period, was passed at the Escorial, where he was watching over the progress of the magnificent pile which was to commemorate the victory of St. Quentin. But, while in his retreat, the ministers placed about his son furnished the king with faithful reports of his proceedings.
[Sidenote: PROJECT OF FLIGHT.]
Such was the deplorable state of things, when Carlos came to the fatal determination to escape from the annoyances of his present position by flying to some foreign land. To what country is not certainly known; some say to the Netherlands, others to Germany. The latter, on the whole, seems the most probable; as in the court of Vienna he would meet with his promised bride, and friends who would be sure to welcome him.
As he was destitute of funds for such a journey, he proposed to raise them through a confidential agent, one of his own household, by obtaining loans from different cities. Such a reckless mode of proceeding, which seemed at once to proclaim his purpose, intimated too plainly the heedlessness of his character, and his utter ignorance of affairs.
But while these negotiations were in progress, a circumstance occurred, exhibiting the conduct of Carlos in such a light that it may claim the shelter of insanity. The story is told by one of the prince's household, an ayuda de camara, or gentleman of the chamber, who was present at the scene, which he describes with much simplicity.
For some days his master, he tells us, had no rest, frequently repeating, that "he desired to kill a man with whom he had a quarrel!"[1444] The same thing he said--without, however, intimating who the man was--to his uncle, Don John of Austria, in whom he seems to have placed unbounded confidence. This was near Christmas, in 1567. It was customary on the twenty-eighth of December, the day of the Innocents, for the members of the royal family to appear together, and take the sacrament in public. Carlos, in order to prepare for this, on the preceding evening went to the church of St. Jerome, to confess and receive absolution. But the confessor, when he heard the strange avowal of his murderous appetite, refused to grant absolution. Carlos applied to another ecclesiastic, but with as little success. In vain he endeavored to argue the case. They recommended him to send for more learned divines, and take their opinion. He did so forthwith; and no less than fourteen monks from the convent of Our Lady of Atocha, and two from another quarter, were brought together to settle this strange point of casuistry. Greatly shocked, they were unanimous in their opinion, that, under the circumstances, absolution could not be granted. Carlos next inquired whether he might not be allowed to receive an unconsecrated wafer, which would obviate the scandal that his omitting to take the sacrament would infallibly occasion in the court. The reverend body were thrown into fresh consternation by this proposal. The prior of Atocha, who was among the number, wishing to draw from Carlos the name of his enemy, told him that this intelligence might possibly have some influence on the judgment of the divines. The prince replied, that "his father was the person, and that he wished to have his life!"[1445] The prior calmly inquired, if any one was to aid him in the designs against his father. But Carlos only repeated his former declaration; and two hours after midnight the conclave broke up in unspeakable dismay. A messenger was despatched to the Escorial, where the king then was, to acquaint him with the whole affair.[1446]
Such is the report of the ayuda de camara, who says he was in attendance on the prince that night. The authority is better for some parts of the story than for others. There is nothing very improbable in the supposition that Carlos--whose thoughts, as we have seen, lay very near the surface--should have talked, in the wild way reported of him, to his attendants. But that he should have repeated to others what had been drawn from him so cunningly by the prior, or that this appalling secret should have been whispered within earshot of the attendants, is difficult to believe. It matters little, however, since, whichever way we take the story, it savors so much of downright madness in the prince as in a manner to relieve him from moral responsibility.
By the middle of January, 1568, the prince's agent had returned, bringing with him a hundred and fifty thousand ducats. It was not more than a fourth of the amount he had demanded. But it answered for the present, and the remainder he proposed to have sent after him in bills of exchange.[1447] Having completed his preparations, he communicated his intentions to his uncle, Don John, and besought him to accompany him in his flight. But the latter, after fruitlessly expostulating with his kinsman on the folly of his proceeding, left Madrid for the Escorial, where he doubtless reported the affair to the king, his brother.
On the seventeenth, Carlos sent an order to Don Ramon de Tassis, the director-general of the posts, to have eight horses in readiness for him, that evening. Tassis, suspecting all was not right, returned an answer that the horses were out. On the prince repeating his orders in a more peremptory manner, the postmaster sent all the horses out, and proceeded himself in all haste to the Escorial.[1448]
[Sidenote: HIS ARREST.]
The king was not long in taking his measures. Some days previous, "this very religious prince," says the papal nuncio, "according to his wont, had caused prayers to be put up, in the different monasteries, for the guidance of Heaven in an affair of great moment."[1449] Such prayers might have served as a warning to Carlos. But it was too late for warnings. Philip now proceeded, without loss of time, to Madrid, where those who beheld him in the audience-chamber, on the morning of the eighteenth, saw no sign of the coming storm in the serenity of his countenance.[1450] That morning, he attended mass in public, with the members of the royal family. After the services, Don John visited Carlos in his apartment, when the prince, shutting the doors, demanded of his uncle the subject of his conversation with the king at the Escorial. Don John evaded the questions as well as he could, till Carlos, heated by his suspicions, drew his sword, and attacked his uncle, who, retreating, with his back to the door, called loudly on the prince to desist, and threw himself into a posture of defence. The noise made by the skirmish fortunately drew the notice of the attendants, who, rushing in, enabled Don John to retreat, and Carlos withdrew in sullen silence to his chamber.[1451]
The prince, it seems, had for some time felt himself insecure in his father's palace. He slept with as many precautions as a highwayman, with his sword and dagger by his side, and a loaded musket within reach, ready at any moment for action.[1452] For further security, he had caused an ingenious artisan to construct a bolt, in such a way that by means of pulleys he could fasten or unfasten the door of his chamber while in bed. With such precautions, it would be a perilous thing to invade the slumbers of a desperate man like Carlos. But Philip was aware of the difficulties; and he ordered the mechanic to derange the machinery so that it should not work: and thus the door was left without the usual means for securing it.[1453] The rest is told by the ayuda de camara above mentioned, who was on duty that night, and supped in the palace.
It was about eleven o'clock, on the evening of the eighteenth, when he observed the king coming down stairs, wearing armor over his clothes, and his head protected by a helmet. He was accompanied by the duke of Feria, captain of the guard, with four or five other lords, and twelve privates of the guard. The king ordered the valet to shut the door, and allow no one to enter. The nobles and the guard then passed into the prince's chamber; and the duke of Feria, stealing softly to the head of the bed, secured a sword and dagger which lay there, as well as a musket loaded with two balls. Carlos, roused by the noise, started up, and demanded who was there. The duke, having got possession of the weapons, replied, "It is the council of state." Carlos, on hearing this, leaped from his bed, and, uttering loud cries and menaces, endeavored to seize his arms. At this moment, Philip, who had prudently deferred his entrance till the weapons were mastered, came forward, and bade his son return to bed and remain quiet. The prince exclaimed, "What does your majesty want of me?" "You will soon learn," said his father, and at the same time ordered the windows and doors to be strongly secured, and the keys of the latter to be delivered to him. All the furniture of the room, with which Carlos could commit any violence, even the andirons, were removed.[1454] The king, then turning to Feria, told him that "he committed the prince to his especial charge, and that he must guard him well." Addressing next the other nobles, he directed them "to serve the prince with all proper respect, but to execute none of his orders without first reporting them to himself; finally, to guard him faithfully, under penalty of being held as traitors."
At these words Carlos exclaimed, "Your majesty had better kill me than keep me a prisoner. It will be a great scandal to the kingdom. If you do not kill me, I will make away with myself." "You will do no such thing," said the king; "for that would be the act of a madman." "Your majesty," replied Carlos, "treats me so ill that you force me to this extremity. I am not mad, but you drive me to despair!"[1455] Other words passed between the monarch and his son, whose voice was so broken with sobs as to be scarcely audible.[1456]
Having completed his arrangements, Philip, after securing a coffer which contained the prince's papers, withdrew from the apartment. That night, the duke of Feria, the count of Lerma, and Don Rodrigo de Mendoza, eldest son of Ruy Gomez, remained in the prince's chamber. Two lords, out of six named for the purpose, performed the same duty in rotation each succeeding night. From respect to the prince, none of them were allowed to wear their swords in his presence. His meat was cut up before it was brought into his chamber, as he was allowed no knife at his meals. The prince's attendants were all dismissed, and most of them afterwards provided for in the service of the king. A guard of twelve halberdiers were stationed in the passages leading to the tower in which the apartment of Carlos was situated. Thus all communication from without was cut off; and, as he was unable to look from his strongly barricaded windows, the unhappy prisoner from that time remained as dead to the world as if he had been buried in the deepest dungeon of Simancas.
The following day, the king called the members of his different councils together, and informed them of the arrest of his son, declaring that nothing but his duty to God, and the welfare of the monarchy, could have moved him to such an act. The tears, according to one present, filled his eyes, as he made this avowal.[1457]
He then summoned his council of state, and commenced a process against the prisoner. His affliction did not prevent him from being present all the while, and listening to the testimony, which, when reduced to writing, formed a heap of paper half a foot in thickness.--Such is the account given of this extraordinary proceeding by the ayuda de camara.[1458]
[Sidenote: CAUSES OF HIS IMPRISONMENT.]
VII. DEATH OF DON CARLOS
Causes of his Imprisonment.--His Rigorous Confinement.--His Excesses.--His Death.--Llorente's Account.--Various Accounts.--Suspicious Circumstances.--Quarrel in the Palace.--Obsequies of Carlos.
1568.
The arrest of Don Carlos caused a great sensation throughout the country, much increased by the mysterious circumstances which had attended it. The wildest rumors were afloat as to the cause. Some said the prince had meditated a design against his father's life; others, that he had conspired against that of Ruy Gomez. Some said that he was plotting rebellion, and had taken part with the Flemings; others suspected him of heresy. Many took still a different view of the matter,--censuring the father rather than the son. "His dagger followed close upon his smile," says the historian of Philip; "hence some called him wise, others severe."[1459] Carlos, they said, never a favorite, might have been rash in his thoughts and words; but he had done no act which should have led a father to deal with his son so harshly. But princes are too apt to be jealous of their successors. They distrusted the bold and generous spirit of their offspring, whom it would be wiser to win over by admitting them to some reasonable share in the government.--"But others there were," concludes the wise chronicler of the times, "who, more prudent than their neighbors, laid their finger on their lips, and were silent."[1460]
For some days, Philip would allow no post to leave Madrid, that he might be the first to send intelligence of this event to foreign courts.[1461] On the twenty-fourth, he despatched circular letters to the great ecclesiastics, the grandees, and the municipalities of the chief cities of the kingdom. They were vague in their import, stating the fact of the arrest, and assigning much the same general grounds with those he had stated to the councils. On the same day he sent despatches to the principal courts of Europe. These, though singularly vague and mysterious in their language, were more pregnant with suggestions, at least, than the letters to his subjects. The most curious, on the whole, and the one that gives the best insight into his motives, is the letter he addressed to his aunt, the queen of Portugal. She was sister to the emperor, his father,--an estimable lady, whom Philip had always held in great respect.
"Although," he writes, "it has long been obvious that it was necessary to take some order in regard to the prince, yet the feelings of a father have led me to resort to all other means before proceeding to extremity. But affairs have at length come to such a pass, that, to fulfil the duty which, as a Christian prince, I owe both to God and to my realm, I have been compelled to place my son in strict confinement. Thus have I been willing to sacrifice to God my own flesh and blood, preferring his service and the welfare of my people to all human considerations.[1462] I will only add, that this determination has not been brought about by any misconduct on the part of my son, or by any want of respect to me; nor is this treatment of him intended by way of chastisement,--for that, however just the grounds of it, would have its time and its limit.[1463] Neither have I resorted to it as an expedient for reforming his disorderly life. The proceeding rests altogether on another foundation; and the remedy I propose is not one either of time or expedients, but is of the greatest moment, as I have already remarked, to satisfy my obligations to God and my people."[1464]
In the same obscure strain, Philip addressed Zuñiga, his ambassador at the papal court,--saying, that, "although the disobedience which Carlos had shown through life was sufficient to justify any demonstration of severity, yet it was not this, but the stern pressure of necessity, that could alone have driven him to deal in this way with his first-born, his only son."[1465]
This ambiguous language--implying that the imprisonment of Carlos was not occasioned by his own misconduct, and yet that both the interests of religion and the safety of the state demanded his perpetual imprisonment--may be thought to intimate that the cause referred to could be no other than insanity. This was plainly stated by the prince of Eboli, in a communication which, by the king's order, he made to the French minister, Fourquevaulx. The king, Gomez said, had for three years past perceived that the prince's head was the weakest part of him, and that he was, at no time, in complete possession of his understanding. He had been silent on the matter, trusting that time would bring some amendment. But it had only made things worse; and he saw, with sorrow, that to commit the sceptre to his son's hands would be to bring inevitable misery on his subjects and ruin on the state. With unspeakable anguish, he had therefore resolved, after long deliberation, to place his son under constraint.[1466]
[Sidenote: CAUSES OF HIS IMPRISONMENT.]
This at least is intelligible, and very different from Philip's own despatches,--where it strikes us as strange, if insanity were the true ground of the arrest, that it should be covered up under such vague and equivocal language, with the declaration, moreover, usually made in his letters, that, "at some future time, he would explain the matter more fully to the parties." One might have thought that the simple plea of insanity would have been directly given, as furnishing the best apology for the son, and at the same time vindicating the father for imposing a wholesome restraint upon his person. But, in point of fact, the excessive rigor of the confinement, as we shall have occasion to see, savored much more of the punishment dealt out to some high offender, than of the treatment of an unfortunate lunatic. Neither is it probable that a criminal process would have been instituted against one who, by his very infirmity, was absolved from all moral responsibility.
There are two documents, either of which, should it ever be brought to light, would probably unfold the true reasons of the arrest of Carlos. The Spanish ambassador, Zuñiga, informed Philip that the pope, dissatisfied with the account which he had given of the transaction, desired a further explanation of it from his majesty.[1467] This, from such a source, was nearly equivalent to a command. For Philip had a peculiar reverence for Pius the Fifth, the pope of the Inquisition, who was a pontiff after his own heart. The king is said never to have passed by the portrait of his holiness, which hung on the walls of the palace, without taking off his hat.[1468] He at once wrote a letter to the pope containing a full account of the transaction. It was written in cipher, with the recommendation that it should be submitted to Granvelle, then in Rome, if his holiness could not interpret it. This letter is doubtless in the Vatican.[1469]
The other document is the process. The king, immediately after the arrest of his son, appointed a special commission to try him. It consisted of Cardinal Espinosa, the prince of Eboli, and a royal councillor, Bribiesca de Muñatones, who was appointed to prepare the indictment. The writings containing the memorable process instituted by Philip's ancestor, John the Second of Aragon, against his amiable and unfortunate son, who also bore the name of Carlos, had been obtained from the Archives of Barcelona. They were translated from the Catalan into Castilian, and served for the ominous model for the present proceedings, which took the form of a trial for high treason. In conducting this singular prosecution, it does not appear that any counsel or evidence appeared on behalf of the prisoner, although a formidable amount of testimony, it would seem, was collected on the other side. But, in truth, we know little of the proceedings. There is no proof that any but the monarch, and the secret tribunal that presided over the trial,--if so it can be called,--ever saw the papers. In 1592, according to the historian Cabrera, they were deposited, by Philip's orders, in a green box, strongly secured, in the Archives of Simancas,[1470]--where, as we have no later information, they may still remain, to reward the labors of some future antiquary.[1471]
In default of these documents, we must resort to conjecture for the solution of this difficult problem; and there are several circumstances which may assist us in arriving at a conclusion. Among the foreign ministers at that time at the court of Madrid, none took more pains to come at the truth of this affair,--as his letters abundantly prove,--than the papal nuncio, Castaneo, archbishop of Rossano. He was a shrewd, sagacious prelate, whose position and credit at the court gave him the best opportunities for information. By Philip's command, Cardinal Espinosa gave the nuncio the usual explanation of the grounds on which Carlos had been arrested. "It is a strange story," said the nuncio, "that which we everywhere hear, of the prince's plot against his father's life." "It would be of little moment," replied the cardinal, "if the danger to the king were all; as it would be easy to protect his person. But the present case is worse,--if worse can be; and the king, who has seen the bad course which his son has taken for these two years past, has vainly tried to remedy it; till, finding himself unable to exercise any control over the hair-brained young man, he has been forced to this expedient."[1472]
Now, in the judgment of a grand-inquisitor, it would probably be thought that heresy, or any leaning to heresy, was a crime of even a deeper dye than parricide. The cardinal's discourse made this impression on the nuncio, who straightway began to cast about for proofs of apostasy in Don Carlos. The Tuscan minister also notices, in his letters, the suspicions that Carlos was not a good Catholic.[1473] A confirmation of this view of the matter may be gathered from the remarks of Pius the Fifth on Philip's letter in cipher, above noticed. "His holiness," writes the Spanish ambassador, "greatly lauds the course taken by your majesty; for he feels that the preservation of Christianity depends on your living many years, and on your having a successor who will tread in your footsteps."[1474]
[Sidenote: CAUSES OF HIS IMPRISONMENT.]
But though all this seems to intimate pretty clearly that the religious defection of Carlos was a predominant motive for his imprisonment, it is not easy to believe that a person of his wayward and volatile mind could have formed any settled opinions in matters of faith, or that his position would have allowed the Reformers such access to his person as to have greatly exposed him to the influence of their doctrines. Yet it is quite possible that he may have taken an interest in those political movements abroad, which, in the end, were directed against the Church. I allude to the troubles in the Low Countries, which he is said to have looked upon with no unfriendly eye. It is true, there is no proof of this, so far as I am aware, in the correspondence of the Flemish leaders. Nor is there any reason to suppose that Carlos entered directly into a correspondence with them himself, or indeed committed himself by any overt act in support of the cause.[1475] But this was not necessary for his condemnation; it would have been quite enough, that he had felt a sympathy for the distresses of the people. From the residence of Egmont, Bergen, and Montigny at the court, he had obvious means of communication with those nobles, who may naturally have sought to interest him in behalf of their countrymen. The sympathy readily kindled in the ardent bosom of the young prince would be as readily expressed. That he did feel such a sympathy may perhaps be inferred by his strange conduct to Alva, on the eve of his departure for the Netherlands. But the people of that country were regarded at Madrid as in actual rebellion against the crown. The reformed doctrines which they avowed gave to the movement the character of a religious revolution. For a Spaniard to countenance it in any way was at once to prove himself false both to his sovereign and his faith. In such a light, we may be quite sure, it would be viewed both by Philip and his minister, the grand-inquisitor. Nor would it be thought any palliation of the crime, that the offender was heir to the monarchy.[1476]
As to a design on his father's life, Philip, both in his foreign despatches and in the communications made by his order to the resident ministers at Madrid, wholly acquitted Carlos of so horrible a charge.[1477] If it had any foundation in truth, one might suppose that Philip, instead of denying, would have paraded it, as furnishing an obvious apology for subjecting him to so rigorous a confinement. It is certain, if Carlos had really entertained so monstrous a design, he might easily have found an opportunity to execute it. That Philip would have been silent in respect to his son's sympathy with the Netherlands may well be believed. The great champion of Catholicism would naturally shrink from publishing to the world that the taint of heresy infected his own blood.
But, whatever may have been the motives which determined the conduct of Philip, one cannot but suspect that a deep-rooted aversion to his son lay at the bottom of them. The dissimilarity of their natures placed the two parties, from the first, in false relations to each other. The heedless excesses of youth were regarded with a pitiless eye by the parent, who, in his own indulgences, at least did not throw aside the veil of decorum. The fiery temper of Carlos, irritated by a long-continued system of distrust, exclusion, and espionnage, at length broke out into such senseless extravagances as belong to the debatable ground of insanity. And this ground afforded, as already intimated, a plausible footing to the father for proceeding to extremities against the son.
Whatever were the offences of Carlos, those who had the best opportunities for observation soon became satisfied that it was intended never to allow him to regain his liberty, or to ascend the throne of his ancestors.[1478] On the second of March, a code of regulations was prepared by Philip relative to the treatment of the prince, which may give some idea of the rigor of his confinement. He was given in especial charge to Ruy Gomez, who was placed at the head of the establishment; and it was from him that every person employed about Carlos was to receive his commission. Six other nobles were appointed both to guard the prince and render him service. Two of the number were to remain in his apartment every night,--the one watching, while the other slept; reminding us of an ingenious punishment among the Chinese, where a criminal is obliged to be everywhere followed by an attendant, whose business it is to keep an unceasing watch upon the offender, that, wherever he turns, he may still find the same eye riveted upon him!
During the day, it was the duty of these nobles to remain with Carlos and lighten by their conversation the gloom of his captivity. But they were not to talk on matters relating to the government, above all to the prince's imprisonment, on which topic, if he addressed them, they were to remain obdurately silent. They were to bring no messages to him, and bear none from him to the world without; and they were to maintain inviolable secrecy in regard to all that passed within the walls of the palace, unless when otherwise permitted by the king. Carlos was provided with a breviary and some other books of devotion; and no works except those of a devotional character were to be allowed him.[1479]--This last regulation seems to intimate the existence of certain heretical tendencies in Carlos, which it was necessary to counteract by books of an opposite character,--unless it might be considered as an ominous preparation for his approaching end. Besides the six nobles, no one was allowed to enter the apartment but the prince's physician, his barbero, or gentleman of the chamber, and his valet. The last was taken from the monteros, or body-guard of the king.[1480] There were seven others of this faithful corps who were attached to the establishment, and whose duty it was to bring the dishes for his table to an outer hall, whence they were taken by the montero in waiting to the prince's chamber. A guard of twelve halberdiers was also stationed in the passages leading to the apartment, to intercept all communication from without. Every person employed in the service, from the highest noble to the meanest official, made solemn oath, before the prince of Eboli, to conform to the regulations. On this nobleman rested the whole responsibility of enforcing obedience to the rules, and of providing for the security of Carlos. The better to effect this, he was commanded to remove to the palace, where apartments were assigned to him and the princess his wife, adjoining those of his prisoner. The arrangement may have been commended by other considerations to Philip, whose intimacy with the princess I shall have occasion to notice hereafter.[1481]
[Sidenote: HIS RIGOROUS CONFINEMENT.]
The regulations, severe as they were, were executed to the letter. Philip's aunt, the queen of Portugal, wrote in earnest terms to the king, kindly offering herself to remain with her grandson in his confinement, and take charge of him like a mother in his affliction.[1482] "But they were very willing," writes the French minister, "to spare her the trouble."[1483] The emperor and empress wrote to express the hope that the confinement of Carlos would work an amendment in his conduct, and that he would soon be liberated. Several letters passed between the courts, until Philip closed the correspondence by declaring that his son's marriage with the princess Anne could never take place, and that he would never be liberated.[1484]
Philip's queen, Isabella, and his sister Joanna, who seem to have been deeply afflicted by the course taken with the prince, made ineffectual attempts to be allowed to visit him in his confinement; and when Don John of Austria came to the palace dressed in a mourning suit, to testify his grief on the occasion, Philip coldly rebuked his brother, and ordered him to change his mourning for his ordinary dress.[1485]
Several of the great towns were prepared to send their delegates to condole with the monarch under his affliction. But Philip gave them to understand, that he had only acted for the good of the nation, and that their condolence on the occasion would be superfluous.[1486] When the deputies of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia were on their way to court, with instructions to inquire into the cause of the prince's imprisonment, and to urge his speedy liberation, they received, on the way, so decided an intimation of the royal displeasure, that they thought it prudent to turn back, without venturing to enter the capital.[1487]
In short, it soon came to be understood, that the affair of Don Carlos was a subject not to be talked about. By degrees, it seemed to pass out of men's minds, like a thing of ordinary occurrence. "There is as little said now on the subject of the prince," writes the French ambassador, Fourquevaulx, "as if he had been dead these ten years."[1488] His name, indeed, still kept its place, among those of the royal family, in the prayers said in the churches. But the king prohibited the clergy from alluding to Carlos in their discourses. Nor did any one venture, says the same authority, to criticize the conduct of the king. "So complete is the ascendancy which Philip's wisdom has given him over his subjects, that, willing or unwilling, all promptly obey him: and if they do not love him, they at least appear to do so."[1489]
Among the articles removed from the prince's chamber was a coffer, as the reader may remember, containing his private papers. Among these were a number of letters intended for distribution after his departure from the country. One was addressed to his father, in which Carlos avowed that the cause of his flight was the harsh treatment he had received from the king.[1490] Other letters, addressed to different nobles, and to some of the great towns, made a similar statement; and, after reminding them of the oath they had taken to him as successor to the crown, he promised to grant them various immunities when the sceptre should come into his hands.[1491] With these papers was also found one of most singular import. It contained a list of all those persons whom he deemed friendly, or inimical to himself. At the head of the former class stood the names of his step-mother, Isabella, and of his uncle Don John of Austria,--both of them noticed in terms of the warmest affection. On the catalogue of his enemies, "to be pursued to the death," were the names of the king, his father, the prince and princess of Eboli, Cardinal Espinosa, the duke of Alva, and others.[1492]--Such is the strange account of the contents of the coffer given to his court by the papal nuncio. These papers, we are told, were submitted to the judges who conducted the process, and formed, doubtless, an important part of the testimony against the prince. It may have been from one of the parties concerned that the nuncio gathered his information. Yet no member of that tribunal would have ventured to disclose its secrets without authority from Philip; who may possibly have consented to the publication of facts that would serve to vindicate his course. If these facts are faithfully reported, they must be allowed to furnish some evidence of a disordered mind in Carlos.
[Sidenote: HIS EXCESSES.]
The king, meanwhile, was scarcely less a prisoner than his son; for, from the time of the prince's arrest, he had never left the palace, even to visit his favorite residences of Aranjuez and the Prado; nor had he passed a single day in the occupation, in which he took such delight, of watching the rising glories of the Escorial. He seemed to be constantly haunted by the apprehension of some outbreak among the people, or at least among the partisans of Carlos, to effect his escape; and when he heard any unusual noise in the palace, says his historian, he would go to the window, to see if the tumult were not occasioned by an attempt to release the prisoner.[1493] There was little cause for apprehension in regard to a people so well disciplined to obedience as the Castilians under Philip the Second. But it is an ominous circumstance for a prisoner, that he should become the occasion of such apprehension.
Philip, however, was not induced by his fears to mitigate in any degree the rigor of his son's confinement, which produced the effect to have been expected on one of his fiery, ungovernable temper. At first he was thrown into a state bordering on frenzy, and, it is said, more than once tried to make away with himself. As he found that thus to beat against the bars of his prison-house was only to add to his distresses, he resigned himself in sullen silence to his fate,--the sullenness of despair. In his indifference to all around him, he ceased to take an interest in his own spiritual concerns. Far from using the religious books in his possession, he would attend to no act of devotion, refusing even to confess, or to admit his confessor into his presence.[1494] These signs of fatal indifference, if not of positive defection from the Faith, gave great alarm to Philip, who would not willingly see the soul thus perish with the body.[1495] In this emergency he employed Suarez, the prince's almoner, who once had some influence over his master, to address him a letter of expostulation. The letter has been preserved, and is too remarkable to be passed by in silence.
Suarez begins with reminding Carlos that his rash conduct had left him without partisans or friends. The effect of his present course, instead of mending his condition, could only serve to make it worse. "What will the world say," continues the ecclesiastic, "when it shall learn that you now refuse to confess; when, too, it shall discover other dreadful things of which you have been guilty, some of which are of such a nature, that, did they concern any other than your highness, the Holy Office would be led to inquire whether the author of them were in truth a Christian?[1496] It is in the bitterness and anguish of my heart that I must declare to your highness, that you are not only in danger of forfeiting your worldly estate, but, what is worse, your own soul." And he concludes by imploring Carlos, as the only remedy, to return to his obedience to God, and to the king, who is his representative on earth.
But the admonitions of the honest almoner had as little effect on the unhappy youth as the prayers of his attendants. The mental excitement under which he labored, combined with the want of air and exercise, produced its natural effect on his health. Every day he became more and more emaciated; while the fever which had so long preyed on his constitution now burned in his veins with greater fury than ever. To allay the intolerable heat, he resorted to such desperate expedients as seemed to intimate, says the papal nuncio, that, if debarred from laying violent hands on himself, he would accomplish the same end in a slower way, but not less sure. He deluged the floor with water, not a little to the inconvenience of the companions of his prison, and walked about for hours, half naked, with bare feet, on the cold pavement.[1497] He caused a warming-pan filled with ice and snow to be introduced several times in a night into his bed, and let it remain there for hours together.[1498] As if this were not enough, he would gulp down such draughts of snow-water as distance any achievement on record in the annals of hydropathy. He pursued the same mad course in respect to what he ate. He would abstain from food an incredible number of days,[1499] and then, indulging in proportion to his former abstinence, would devour a pastry of four partridges, with all the paste, at a sitting, washing it down with three gallons or more of iced water![1500]
No constitution could long withstand such violent assaults as these. The constitution of Carlos gradually sank under them. His stomach, debilitated by long inaction, refused to perform the extraordinary tasks that were imposed on it. He was attacked by incessant vomiting; dysentery set in; and his strength rapidly failed. The physician, Olivares, who alone saw the patient, consulted with his brethren in the apartments of Ruy Gomez.[1501] Their remedies failed to restore the exhausted energies of nature; and it was soon evident that the days of Charles were numbered.
[Sidenote: HIS LAST MOMENTS.]
To no one could such an announcement have given less concern than to Carlos; for he had impatiently looked to death as to his release. From this hour he seemed to discard all earthly troubles from his mind, as he fixed his thoughts steadfastly on the future. At his own request his confessor, Chavres and Suarez, his almoner, were summoned, and assisted him with their spiritual consolations. The closing scenes are recorded by the pen of the nuncio.
"Suddenly a wonderful change seemed to be wrought by divine grace in the heart of the prince. Instead of vain and empty talk, his language became that of a sensible man. He sent for his confessor, devoutly confessed, and, as his illness was such that he could not receive the host, he humbly adored it; showing throughout great contrition, and, though not refusing the proffered remedies, manifesting such contempt for the things of this world, and such a longing for heaven, that one would have said, God had reserved for this hour the sum of all his grace."[1502]
He seemed to feel an assurance that he was to survive till the vigil of St. James, the patron saint of his country. When told that this would be four days later, he said, "So long will my misery endure."[1503] He would willingly have seen his father once more before his death. But his confessor, it is said, dissuaded the monarch, on the ground that Carlos was now in so happy a frame of mind, that it were better not to disturb it by drawing off his attention to worldly objects. Philip, however, took the occasion, when Carlos lay asleep or insensible, to enter the chamber; and, stealing softly behind the prince of Eboli and the grand-prior, Antonio de Toledo, he stretched out his hand towards the bed, and, making the sign of the cross, gave the parting benediction to his dying son.[1504]
Nor was Carlos allowed the society of his amiable step-mother, the queen, nor of his aunt Joanna, to sweeten by their kind attentions the bitterness of death.[1505] It was his sad fate to die, as he had lived throughout his confinement, under the cold gaze of his enemies. Yet he died at peace with all; and some of the last words that he uttered were to forgive his father for his imprisonment, and the ministers--naming Ruy Gomez and Espinosa in particular--who advised him to it.[1506]
Carlos now grew rapidly more feeble, having scarce strength enough left to listen to the exhortations of his confessor, and with low, indistinct murmurings to adore the crucifix which he held constantly in his hand. On the twenty-fourth of July, soon after midnight, he was told it was the Vigil of St. James. Then suddenly rousing, with a gleam of joy on his countenance, he intimated his desire for his confessor to place the holy taper in his hand: and feebly beating his breast, as if to invoke the mercy of Heaven on his transgressions, he fell back, and expired without a groan.[1507]--"No Catholic," says Nobili, "ever made a more Catholic end."[1508]
Such is the account given us of the last hours of this most unfortunate prince, by the papal nuncio and the Tuscan minister, and repeated with slight discrepancies by most of the Castilian writers of that and the following age.[1509] It is a singular circumstance, that, although we have such full reports, both of what preceded and what followed the death of Carlos, from the French ambassador, the portion of his correspondence, which embraces his death has been withdrawn, whether by accident or design, from the archives.[1510] But probably no one without the walls of the palace had access to better sources of information than the two ministers first mentioned, especially the papal nuncio. Their intelligence may well have been derived from some who had been about the person of Carlos. If so, it could not have been communicated without the approbation of Philip, who may have been willing that the world should understand that his son had died true to the Faith.
A very different account of the end of Carlos is given by Llorente. And as this writer, the secretary of the Inquisition, had access to very important materials; and as his account, though somewhat prolix, is altogether remarkable, I cannot pass it by in silence.
[Sidenote: LLORENTE'S ACCOUNT.]
According to Llorente, the process already noticed as having been instituted against Carlos was brought to a close only a short time before his death. No notice of it, during all this time, had been given to the prisoner, and no counsel was employed in his behalf. By the ninth of July the affair was sufficiently advanced for a "summary judgment." It resulted from the evidence, that the accused was guilty of treason in both the first and second degree,--as having endeavored to compass the death of the king, his father, and as having conspired to usurp the sovereignty of Flanders. The counsellor Muñatones, in his report, which he laid before the king, while he stated that the penalty imposed by the law on every other subject for these crimes was death, added, that his majesty, by his sovereign authority, might decide that the heir apparent was placed by his rank above the reach of ordinary laws. And it was further in his power to mitigate or dispense with any penalty whatever, when he considered it for the good of his subjects.--In this judgment both the ministers, Ruy Gomez and Espinosa, declared their concurrence.
To this the king replied, that, though his feelings moved him to follow the suggestions of his ministers, his conscience would not permit it. He could not think that he should consult the good of his people by placing over them a monarch so vicious in his disposition, and so fierce and sanguinary in his temper, as Carlos. However agonizing it might be to his feelings as a father, he must allow the law to take its course. Yet, after all, he said, it might not be necessary to proceed to this extremity. The prince's health was in so critical a state, that it was only necessary to relax the precautions in regard to his diet, and his excesses would soon conduct him to the tomb! One point only was essential, that he should be so well advised of his situation that he should be willing to confess, and make his peace with Heaven before he died. This was the greatest proof of love which he could give to his son and to the Spanish nation.
Ruy Gomez and Espinosa both of them inferred from this singular ebullition of parental tenderness, that they could not further the real intentions of the king better than by expediting as much as possible the death of Carlos. Ruy Gomez accordingly communicated his views to Olivares, the prince's physician. This he did in such ambiguous and mysterious phrase as, while it intimated his meaning, might serve to veil the enormity of the crime from the eyes of the party who was to perpetrate it. No man was more competent to this delicate task than the prince of Eboli, bred from his youth in courts, and trained to a life of dissimulation. Olivares readily comprehended the drift of his discourse,--that the thing required of him was to dispose of the prisoner, in such a way that his death should appear natural, and that the honor of the king should not be compromised. He raised no scruples, but readily signified his willingness faithfully to execute the will of his sovereign. Under these circumstances, on the twentieth of July, a purgative dose was administered to the unsuspecting patient, who, as may be imagined, rapidly grew worse. It was a consolation to his father, that, when advised of his danger, Carlos consented to receive his confessor. Thus, though the body perished, the soul was saved.[1511]
Such is the extraordinary account given us by Llorente, which, if true, would at once settle the question in regard to the death of Carlos. But Llorente, with a disingenuousness altogether unworthy of an historian in a matter of so grave import, has given us no knowledge of the sources whence his information was derived. He simply says, that they are "certain secret memoirs of the time, full of curious anecdote, which, though not possessing precisely the character of authenticity, are nevertheless entitled to credit, as coming from persons employed in the palace of the king!"[1512] Had the writer condescended to acquaint us with the names, or some particulars of the characters, of his authors, we might have been able to form some estimate of the value of their testimony. His omission to do this may lead us to infer, that he had not perfect confidence in it himself. At all events it compels us to trust the matter entirely to his own discretion, a virtue which those familiar with his inaccuracies in other matters will not be disposed to concede to him in a very eminent degree.[1513]
His narrative, moreover, is in direct contradiction to the authorities I have already noticed, especially to the two foreign ministers so often quoted, who, with the advantages--not a few--that they possessed for obtaining correct information, were indefatigable in collecting it. "I say nothing," writes the Tuscan envoy, alluding, to the idle rumors of the town, "of gossip unworthy to be listened to. It is a hard thing to satisfy the populace. It is best to stick to the truth, without caring for the opinion of those who talk wildly of improbable matters, which have their origin in ignorance and malice."[1514]
Still, it cannot be denied, that suspicions of foul play to Carlos were not only current abroad, but were entertained by persons of higher rank than the populace at home,--where it could not be safe to utter them. Among others, the celebrated Antonio Perez, one of the household of the prince of Eboli, informs us, that, "as the king had found Carlos guilty, he was condemned to death by casuists and inquisitors. But in order that the execution of this sentence might not be brought too palpably before the public, they mixed for four months together a slow poison in his food."[1515]
This statement agrees, to a certain extent, with that of a noble Venetian, Pietro Giustiniani, then in Castile, who assured the historian De Thou, that "Philip having determined on the death of his son, obtained a sentence to that effect from a lawful judge. But in order to save the honor of the sovereign, the sentence was executed in secret, and Carlos was made to swallow some poisoned broth, of which he died some hours afterwards."[1516]
Some of the particulars mentioned by Antonio Perez may be thought to receive confirmation from an account given by the French minister, Fourquevaulx, in a letter dated about a month after the prince's arrest. "The prince," he says, "becomes visibly thinner and more dried up; and his eyes are sunk in his head. They give him sometimes strong soups and capon broths, in which amber and other nourishing things are dissolved, that he may not wholly lose his strength and fall into decrepitude. These soups are prepared privately in the chamber of Ruy Gomez, through which one passes into that of the prince."
[Sidenote: VARIOUS ACCOUNTS.]
It was not to be expected that a Castilian writer should have the temerity to assert that the death of Carlos was brought about by violence. Yet Cabrera, the best informed historian of the period, who, in his boyhood, had frequent access to the house of Ruy Gomez, and even to the royal palace, while he describes the excesses of Carlos as the cause of his untimely end, makes some mysterious intimations, which, without any forced construction, seem to point to the agency of others in bringing about that event.[1517]
Strada, the best informed, on the whole, of the foreign writers of the period, and who, as a foreigner, had not the same motives for silence as a Spaniard, qualifies his account of the prince's death as having taken place in the natural-way, by saying, "if indeed he did not perish by violence."[1518]--The prince of Orange, in his bold denunciation of Philip, does not hesitate to proclaim him the murderer of his son.[1519] And that inquisitive gossip-monger, Brantôme, amidst the bitter jests and epigrams which, he tells us, his countrymen levelled at Philip for his part in this transaction, quotes the authority of a Spaniard of rank for the assertion that, after Carlos had been condemned by his father,--in opposition to the voice of his council,--the prince was found dead in his chamber, smothered with a towel![1520] Indeed, the various modes of death assigned to him are sufficient evidence of the uncertainty as to any one of them.[1521] A writer of more recent date does not scruple to assert, that the only liberty granted to Carlos was that of selecting the manner of his death out of several kinds that were proposed to him;[1522]--an incident which has since found a more suitable place in one of the many dramas that have sprang from his mysterious story.
In all this the historian must admit there is but little evidence of positive value. The authors--with the exception of Antonio Perez, who had his account, he tells us, from the prince of Eboli--are by no means likely to have had access to sure sources of information; while their statements are contradictory to one another, and stand in direct opposition to those of the Tuscan minister and of the nuncio, the latter of whom had, probably, better knowledge of what was passing in the councils of the monarch, than any other of the diplomatic body. Even the declaration of Antonio Perez, so important on many accounts, is to a considerable degree neutralized by the fact, that he was the mortal enemy of Philip, writing in exile, with a price set upon his head by the man whose character he was assailing. It is the hard fate of a person so situated, that even truth from his lips fails to carry with it conviction.[1523]
[Sidenote: SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES.]
If we reject his explanation of the matter, we shall find ourselves again thrown on the sea of conjecture, and may be led to account for the rumors of violence on the part of Philip by the mystery in which the whole of the proceedings was involved, and the popular notion of the character of the monarch who directed them. The same suspicious circumstances must have their influence on the historian of the present day, as with insufficient, though more ample light than was enjoyed by contemporaries, he painfully endeavors to grope his way through this obscure passage in the life of Philip. Many reflections of ominous import naturally press upon his mind. From the first hour of the prince's confinement it was determined, as we have seen, that he was never to be released from it. Yet the preparations for keeping him a prisoner were on so extraordinary a scale, and imposed such a burden on men of the highest rank in the kingdom, as seemed to argue that his confinement was not to be long. It is a common saying,--as old as Machiavelli,--that to a deposed prince the distance is not great from the throne to the grave. Carlos, indeed, had never worn a crown. But there seemed to be the same reasons as if he had, for abridging the term of his imprisonment. All around the prince regarded him with distrust. The king, his father, appeared to live, as we have seen, in greater apprehension of him after his confinement, than before.[1524] "The ministers, whom Carlos hated," says the nuncio, "knew well that it would be their ruin, should he ever ascend the throne."[1525] Thus, while the fears and the interests of all seemed to tend to his removal, we find nothing in the character of Philip to counteract the tendency. For when was he ever known to relax his grasp on the victim once within his power, or to betray any feeling of compunction as to sweeping away an obstacle from his path? One has only to call to mind the long confinement, ending with the midnight execution, of Montigny, the open assassination of the prince of Orange, the secret assassination of the secretary Escovedo, the unrelenting persecution of Perez, his agent in that murder, and his repeated attempts to despatch him also by the hand of the bravo. These are passages in the history of Philip which yet remain to be presented to the reader, and the knowledge of which is necessary before we can penetrate into the depths of his dark and unscrupulous character.
If it be thought that there is a wide difference between these deeds of violence and the murder of a son, we must remember that, in affairs of religion, Philip acted avowedly on the principle, that the end justifies the means; that one of the crimes charged upon Carlos was defection from the Faith; and that Philip had once replied to the piteous appeal of a heretic whom they were dragging to the stake, "Were my son such a wretch as thou art, I would myself carry the fagots to burn him!"[1526]
But in whatever light we are to regard the death of Carlos,--whether as caused by violence, or by those insane excesses in which he was allowed to plunge during his confinement,--in either event the responsibility, to a great extent, must be allowed to rest on Philip, who, if he did not directly employ the hand of the assassin to take the life of his son, yet by his rigorous treatment drove that son to a state of desperation that brought about the same fatal result.[1527]
While the prince lay in the agonies of death, scarcely an hour before he breathed his last, a scene of a very different nature was passing in an adjoining gallery of the palace. A quarrel arose there between two courtiers,--one of them a young cavalier, Don Antonio de Leyva, the other Don Diego de Mendoza, a nobleman who had formerly filled, with great distinction, the post of ambassador at Rome. The dispute arose respecting some coplas, of which Mendoza claimed to be the author. Though at this time near sixty years old, the fiery temperament of youth had not been cooled by age. Enraged at what he conceived an insult on the part of his companion, he drew his dagger. The other as promptly unsheathed his sword. Thrusts were exchanged between the parties; and the noise of the fracas at length reached the ears of Philip himself. Indignant at the outrage thus perpetrated within the walls of the palace, and at such an hour, he ordered his guards instantly to arrest the offenders. But the combatants, brought to their senses, had succeeded in making their escape, and taken refuge in a neighboring church. Philip was too much incensed to respect this asylum; and an alcalde, by his command, entered the church at midnight, and dragged the offenders from the sanctuary. Leyva was put in irons, and lodged in the fortress of Madrid; while his rival was sent to the tower of Simancas. "It is thought they will pay for this outrage with their lives," writes the Tuscan minister, Nobili. "The king," he adds, "has even a mind to cashier his guard for allowing them to escape." Philip, however, confined the punishment of the nobles to banishment from court; and the old courtier, Mendoza, profited by his exile to give to the world those remarkable compositions, both in history and romance, that form an epoch in the national literature.[1528]
A few days before his death, Carlos is said to have made a will, in which, after imploring his father's pardon and blessing, he commended his servants to his care, gave away a few jewels to two or three friends, and disposed of the rest of his property in behalf of sundry churches and monasteries.[1529] Agreeably to his wish, his body was wrapped in a Franciscan robe, and was soon afterward laid in a coffin covered with black velvet and rich brocade. At seven o'clock, that same evening, the remains of Carlos were borne from the chamber where he died, to their place of interment.[1530]
The coffin was supported on the shoulders of the prince of Eboli, the dukes of Infantado and Bio Seco, and other principal grandees. In the court-yard of the palace was a large gathering of the members of the religious fraternities, dignitaries of the church, foreign ambassadors, nobles and cavaliers about the court, and officers of the royal household. There were there also the late attendants of Carlos,--to some of whom he had borne little love,--who, after watching him through his captivity, were now come to conduct him to his final resting-place. Before moving, some wrangling took place among the parties on the question of precedence. Such a spirit might well have been rebuked by the solemn character of the business they were engaged in, which might have reminded them, that in the grave, at least, there are no distinctions. But the perilous question was happily settled by Philip himself, who, from an open window of the palace, looked down on the scene, and, with his usual composure, gave directions for forming the procession.[1531]
[Sidenote: HIS OBSEQUIES.]
The king did not accompany it. Slowly it defiled through the crowded streets, where the people gave audible utterance to their grief, as they gazed on the funeral pomp, and their eyes fell on the bier of the prince, who, they had fondly hoped, would one day sway the sceptre of Castile; and whose errors, great as they were, were all forgotten in his unparalleled misfortunes.[1532]
The procession moved forward to the convent of San Domingo Real, where Carlos had desired that his ashes might be laid. The burial service was there performed, with great solemnity, in presence of the vast multitude. But whether it was that Philip distrusted the prudence of the preachers, or feared some audacious criticism on his conduct, no discourse was allowed to be delivered from the pulpit. For nine days religious services were performed in honor of the deceased; and the office for the dead continued to be read, morning and evening, before an audience among whom were the great nobles and the officers of state, clad in full mourning. The queen and the princess Joanna might be seen, on these occasions, mingling their tears with the few who cherished the memory of Carlos. A niche was excavated in the wall of the church, within the choir, in which the prince's remains were deposited. But they did not rest there long. In 1573, they were removed, by Philip's orders, to the Escorial; and in its gloomy chambers they were left to mingle with the kindred dust of the royal line of Austria.[1533]
Philip wrote to Zuñiga, his ambassador in Rome, to intimate his wish that no funeral honors should be paid there to the memory of Carlos, that no mourning should be worn, and that his holiness would not feel under the necessity of sending him letters of condolence.[1534] Zuñiga did his best. But he could not prevent the obsequies from being celebrated with the lugubrious pomp suited to the rank of the departed. A catafalque was raised in the church of Saint James; the services were performed in presence of the ambassador and his attendants, who were dressed in the deepest black; and twenty-one cardinals, one of whom was Granvelle, assisted at the solemn ceremonies.[1535] But no funeral panegyric was pronounced, and no monumental inscription recorded the imaginary virtues of the deceased.[1536]
Soon after the prince's death, Philip retired to the monastery of St. Jerome, in whose cloistered recesses he remained some time longer secreted from the eyes of his subjects. "He feels his loss like a father," writes the papal nuncio, "but he bears it with the patience of a Christian."[1537] He caused despatches to be sent to foreign courts, to acquaint them with his late bereavement. In his letter to the duke of Alva, he indulges in a fuller expression of his personal feelings. "You may conceive," he says, "in what pain and heaviness I find myself, now that it has pleased God to take my dear son, the prince, to himself. He died in a Christian manner, after having, three days before, received the sacrament, and exhibited repentance and contrition,--all which serves to console me under this affliction. For I hope that God has called him to himself, that he may be with him evermore; and that he will grant me his grace, that I may endure this calamity with a Christian heart and patience."[1538]
Thus, in the morning of life, at little more than twenty-three years of age, perished Carlos, prince of Asturias. No one of his time came into the world under so brilliant auspices; for he was heir to the noblest empire in Christendom; and the Spaniards, as they discerned in his childhood some of the germs of future greatness in his character, looked confidently forward to the day when he should rival the glory of his grandfather, Charles the Fifth. But he was born under an evil star, which counteracted all the gifts of fortune, and turned them into a curse. His naturally wild and headstrong temper was exasperated by disease; and, when encountered by the distrust and alienation of him who had the control of his destiny, was exalted into a state of frenzy, that furnishes the best apology for his extravagances, and vindicates the necessity of some measures, on the part of his father, to restrain them. Yet can those who reject the imputation of murder acquit that father of inexorable rigor towards his child in the measures which he employed, or of the dreadful responsibility which attaches to the consequences of them?