Читать книгу History of the Reign of Philip the Second, King of Spain, Vols. 1 and 2 - William Hickling Prescott - Страница 7

INTRUSTED WITH THE REGENCY.

The French had availed themselves of the troubled state of Charles's affairs to make a descent upon Roussillon; and the Dauphin now lay in some strength before the gates of Perpignan. The emperor considered this a favorable moment for Philip to take his first lesson in war. The prince accordingly posted to Valladolid. A considerable force was quickly mustered; and Philip, taking the command, and supported by some of the most experienced of his father's generals, descended rapidly towards the coast. But the Dauphin did not care to wait for his approach; and, breaking up his camp, he retreated, without striking a blow, in all haste, across the mountains. Philip entered the town in triumph, and soon after returned, with the unstained laurels of victory, to receive his father's congratulations. The promptness of his movements on this occasion gained him credit with the Spaniards; and the fortunate result seemed to furnish a favorable augury for the future.

On his return, the prince was called to preside over the cortes at Monzon—a central town, where the deputies of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia continued to assemble separately, long after those provinces had been united to Castile. Philip, with all the forms prescribed by the constitution, received the homage of the representatives assembled, as successor to the crown of Aragon.

The war with France, which, after a temporary suspension, had broken out with greater violence than ever, did not permit the emperor long to protract his stay in the Peninsula. Indeed, it seemed to his Spanish subjects that he rarely visited them, except when his exchequer required to be replenished for carrying on his restless enterprises, and that he stayed no longer than was necessary to effect this object. On leaving the country, he intrusted the regency to Philip, under the general direction of a council consisting of the duke of Alva, Cardinal Tavera, and the Commendador Cobos. Some time after this, while still lingering in Catalonia, previous to his embarkation, Charles addressed a letter to his son, advising him as to his political course, and freely criticising the characters of the great lords associated with him in the government. The letter, which is altogether a remarkable document, contains, also, some wholesome admonitions on Philip's private conduct. "The duke of Alva," the emperor emphatically wrote, "is the ablest statesman and the best soldier I have in my dominions. Consult him, above all, in military affairs; but do not depend upon him entirely in these or in any other matters. Depend on no one but yourself. The grandees will be too happy to secure your favor, and through you to govern the land. But, if you are thus governed, it will be your ruin. The mere suspicion of it will do you infinite prejudice. Make use of all; but lean exclusively on none. In your perplexities, ever trust in your Maker. Have no care but for him." The emperor then passes some strictures on the Commendador Cobos, as too much inclined to pleasure, at the same time admonishing Philip of the consequences of a libertine career, fatal alike, he tells him, to both soul and body. There seems to have been some ground for this admonition, as the young prince had shown a disposition to gallantry, which did not desert him in later life. "Yet, on the whole," says the monarch, "I will admit I have much reason to be satisfied with your behavior. But I would have you perfect; and, to speak frankly, whatever other persons may tell you, you have some things to mend yet. Your confessor," he continues, "is now your old preceptor, the bishop of Carthagena,"—to which see the worthy professor had been recently raised. "He is a good man, as all the world knows; but I hope he will take better care of your conscience than he did of your studies, and that he will not show quite so accommodating a temper in regard to the former as he did with the latter."[23]

On the cover of this curious epistle the emperor indorsed a direction to his son, to show it to no living person; but if he found himself ill at any time, to destroy the letter, or seal it up under cover to him. It would, indeed, have edified those courtiers, who fancied they stood highest in the royal favor, to see how, to their very depths, their characters were sounded, and how clearly their schemes of ambition were revealed to the eye of their master. It was this admirable perception of character which enabled Charles, so generally, to select the right agent for the execution of his plans, and thus to insure their success.

The letter from Palamos is one among many similar proofs of the care with which, even from a distance, Charles watched over his son's course, and endeavored to form his character. The experienced navigator would furnish a chart to the youthful pilot, by which, without other aid, he might securely steer through seas strange and unknown to him. Yet there was little danger in the navigation, at this period; for Spain lay in a profound tranquillity, unruffled by a breath from the rude tempest, that, in other parts of Europe, was unsettling princes on their thrones.

A change was now to take place in Philip's domestic relations. His magnificent expectations made him, in the opinion of the world, the best match in Europe. His father had long contemplated the event of his son's marrying. He had first meditated an alliance for him with Margaret, daughter of Francis the First, by which means the feud with his ancient rival might be permanently healed. But Philip's inclination was turned to an alliance with Portugal. This latter was finally adopted by Charles; and, in December, 1542, Philip was betrothed to the Infanta Mary, daughter of John the Third and of Catharine, the emperor's sister. She was, consequently, cousin-german to Philip. At the same time, Joanna, Charles's youngest daughter, was affianced to the eldest son of John the Third, and heir to his crown. The intermarriages of the royal houses of Castile and Portugal were so frequent, that the several members stood in multiplied and most perplexing degrees of affinity with one another.

Joanna was eight years younger than her brother. Charles had one other child, Mary, born the year after Philip. She was destined to a more splendid fortune than her sister, as bride of the future emperor of Germany. Since Philip and the Portuguese princess were now both more than sixteen years old, being nearly of the same age, it was resolved that their marriage should no longer be deferred. The place appointed for the ceremony was the ancient city of Salamanca.

MARRIES MARY OF PORTUGAL.

In October, 1543, the Portuguese infanta quitted her father's palace in Lisbon, and set out for Castile. She was attended by a numerous train of nobles, with the archbishop of Lisbon at their head. A splendid embassy was sent to meet her on the borders, and conduct her to Salamanca. At its head was the duke of Medina Sidonia, chief of the Guzmans, the wealthiest and most powerful lord in Andalusia. He had fitted up his palace at Badajoz in the most costly and sumptuous style, for the accommodation of the princess. The hangings were of cloth of gold; the couches, the sideboards, and some of the other furniture, of burnished silver. The duke himself rode in a superb litter, and the mules which carried it were shod with gold. The members of his household and his retainers swelled to the number of three thousand, well mounted, wearing the liveries and cognizance of their master. Among them was the duke's private band, including several natives of the Indies—then not a familiar sight in Spain—displaying on their breasts broad silver escutcheons, on which were emblazoned the arms of the Guzmans. The chronicler is diffuse in his account of the infanta's reception, from which a few particulars may be selected for such as take an interest in the Spanish costume and manners of the sixteenth century.

The infanta was five months younger than Philip. She was of the middle size, with a good figure, though somewhat inclined to embonpoint, and was distinguished by a graceful carriage and a pleasing expression of countenance. Her dress was of cloth of silver, embroidered with flowers of gold. She wore a capa, or Castilian mantle, of violet-colored velvet, figured with gold, and a hat of the same materials, surmounted by a white and azure plume. The housings of the mule were of rich brocade, and Mary rode on a silver saddle.

As she approached Salamanca, she was met by the rector and professors of the university, in their academic gowns. Next followed the judges and regidores of the city, in their robes of office, of crimson velvet, with hose and shoes of spotless white. After these came the military—horse and foot—in their several companies, making a brilliant show with their gay uniforms; and, after going through their various evolutions, they formed into an escort for the princess. In this way, amidst the sound of music and the shouts of the multitude, the glittering pageant entered the gates of the capital.

The infanta was there received under a superb canopy, supported by the magistrates of the city. The late ambassador to Portugal, Don Luis Sarmiento, who had negotiated the marriage treaty, held the bridle of her mule; and in this state she arrived at the palace of the duke of Alva, destined for her reception in Salamanca. Here she was received with all honour by the duchess, in the presence of a brilliant company of cavaliers and noble ladies. Each of the ladies was graciously permitted by the infanta to kiss her hand; but the duchess, the chronicler is careful to inform us, she distinguished by the honor of an embrace.

All the while, Philip had been in the presence of the infanta, unknown to herself. Impatient to see his destined bride, the young prince had sallied out, with a few attendants, to the distance of five or six miles from the city, all in the disguise of huntsmen. He wore a slouched velvet hat on his head, and his face was effectually concealed under a gauze mask, so that he could mingle in the crowd by the side of the infanta, and make his own scrutiny, unmarked by any one. In this way he accompanied the procession during the five hours which it lasted, until the darkness had set in; "if darkness could be spoken of," says the chronicler, "where the blaze of ten thousand torches shed a light stronger than day."

The following evening, November the twelfth, was appointed for the marriage. The duke and duchess of Alva stood as sponsors, and the nuptial ceremony was performed by Tavera, archbishop of Toledo. The festivities were prolonged through another week. The saloons were filled with the beauty of Castile. The proudest aristocracy in Europe vied with each other in the display of magnificence at the banquet and the tourney: and sounds of merriment succeeded to the tranquillity which had so long reigned in the cloistered shades of Salamanca.

On the nineteenth of the month the new-married pair transferred their residence to Valladolid—a city at once fortunate and fatal to the princess. Well might the chronicler call it "fatal;" for, in less than two years, July 8th, 1545, she there gave birth to a son, the celebrated Don Carlos, whose mysterious fate has furnished so fruitful a theme for speculation. Mary survived the birth of her child but a few days. Had her life been spared, a mother's care might perhaps have given a different direction to his character, and, through this, to his fortunes. The remains of the infanta, first deposited in the cathedral of Granada, were afterwards removed to the Escorial, that magnificent mausoleum prepared by her husband for the royalty of Spain.[24]

In the following year died Tavera, archbishop of Toledo. He was an excellent man, and greatly valued by the emperor; who may be thought to have passed a sufficient encomium on his worth when he declared, that "by his death Philip had suffered a greater loss than by that of Mary; for he could get another wife, but not another Tavera." His place was filled by Siliceo, Philip's early preceptor, who, after having been raised to the archiepiscopal see of Toledo, received a cardinal's hat from Rome. The accommodating spirit of the good ecclesiastic had doubtless some influence in his rapid advancement from the condition of a poor teacher in Salamanca to the highest post—as the see of Toledo, with its immense revenues and authority, might be considered—next to the papacy, in the Christian Church.

For some years, no event of importance occurred to disturb the repose of the Peninsula. But the emperor was engaged in a stormy career abroad, in which his arms were at length crowned with success by the decisive battle of Muhlberg.

This victory, which secured him the person of his greatest enemy, placed him in a position for dictating terms to the Protestant princes of Germany. He had subsequently withdrawn to Brussels, where he received an embassy from Philip, congratulating him on the success of his arms. Charles was desirous to see his son, from whom he had now been separated nearly six years. He wished, moreover, to introduce him to the Netherlands, and make him personally acquainted with the people over whom he was one day to rule. He sent instructions, accordingly, to Philip, to repair to Flanders, so soon as the person appointed to relieve him in the government should arrive in Castile.

The individual selected by the emperor for this office was Maximilian, the son of his brother Ferdinand. He was a young man of good parts, correct judgment, and popular manners—well qualified, notwithstanding his youth, for the post assigned to him. He was betrothed, as already mentioned, to the emperor's eldest daughter, his cousin Mary; and the regency was to be delivered into his hands on the marriage of the parties.

Philip received his father's commands while presiding at the cortes of Monzon. He found the Aragonese legislature by no means so tractable as the Castilian. The deputies from the mountains of Aragon and from the sea-coast of Catalonia were alike sturdy in their refusal to furnish further supplies for those ambitious enterprises, which, whatever glory they might bring to their sovereign, were of little benefit to them. The independent people of these provinces urged their own claims with a pertinacity, and criticized the conduct of their rulers with a bluntness, that was little grateful to the ear of majesty. The convocation of the Aragonese cortes was, in the view of the king of Spain, what the convocation of a general council was in that of the pope—a measure not to be resorted to but from absolute necessity.

On the arrival of Maximilian in Castile, his marriage with the Infanta Mary was immediately celebrated. The ceremony took place, with all the customary pomp, in the courtly city of Valladolid. Among the festivities that followed may be noticed the performance of a comedy of Ariosto—a proof that the beautiful Italian literature, which had exercised a visible influence on the compositions of the great Castilian poets of the time, had now commended itself, in some degree, to the popular taste.

Before leaving the country, Philip, by his father's orders, made a change in his domestic establishment, which he formed on the Burgundian model. This was more ceremonious, and far more costly, than the primitive usage of Castile. A multitude of new offices was created, and the most important were filled by grandees of the highest class. The duke of Alva was made mayor-domo mayor; Antonio de Toledo, his kinsman, master of the horse; Figueroa, count of Feria, captain of the body-guard. Among the chamberlains was Ruy Gomez de Silva, prince of Eboli, one of the most important members of the cabinet under Philip. Even the menial offices connected with the person and table of the prince were held by men of rank. A guard was lodged in the palace. Philip dined in public in great state, attended by his kings-at-arms, and by a host of minstrels and musicians. One is reminded of the pompous etiquette of the court of Louis the Fourteenth. All this, however, was distasteful to the Spaniards, who did not comprehend why the prince should relinquish the simple usages of his own land for the fashions of Burgundy. Neither was it to the taste of Philip himself; but it suited that of his father, who was desirous that his son should flatter the Flemings by the assumption of a state to which they had been accustomed in their Burgundian princes.[25]

Philip, having now completed his arrangements, and surrendered the regency into the hands of his brother-in-law, had no reason longer to postpone his journey. He was accompanied by the duke of Alva, Enriquez, high-admiral of Castile, Ruy Gomez, prince of Eboli, and a long train of persons of the highest rank. There was, besides, a multitude of younger cavaliers of family. The proudest nobles of the land contended for the honor of having their sons take part in the expedition. The number was still further augmented by a body of artists and men of science. The emperor was desirous that Philip should make an appearance that would dazzle the imaginations of the people among whom he passed.

With this brilliant company, Philip began his journey in the autumn of 1548. He took the road to Saragossa, made an excursion to inspect the fortifications of Perpignan, offered up his prayers at the shrine of Our Lady of Montserrat, passed a day or two at Barcelona, enjoying the fête prepared for him in the pleasant citron-gardens of the cardinal of Trent, and thence proceeded to the port of Rosas, where a Genoese fleet, over which proudly waved the imperial banner, was riding at anchor, and awaiting his arrival. It consisted of fifty-eight vessels, furnished by Genoa, Sicily, and Naples, and commanded by the veteran of a hundred battles, the famous Andrew Doria.

Philip encountered some rough weather on his passage to Genoa. The doge and the principal senators came out of port in a magnificent galley to receive him. The prince landed, amidst the roar of cannon from the walls and the adjacent fortifications, and was forthwith conducted to the mansion of the Dorias, preëminent, even in this city of palaces, for its architectural splendor.

During his stay in Genoa, Philip received all the attentions which an elegant hospitality could devise. But his hours were not wholly resigned to pleasure. He received, every day, embassies from the different Italian states, one of which came from the pope, Paul the Third, with his nephew, Ottavio Farnese, at its head. Its especial object was to solicit the prince's interest with his father, for the restitution of Parma and Placentia to the Holy See. Philip answered in terms complimentary, indeed, says the historian, "but sufficiently ambiguous as to the essential."[26] He had already learned his first lesson in kingcraft. Not long after, the pope sent him a consecrated sword, and the hat worn by his holiness on Christmas eve, accompanied by an autograph letter, in which, after expatiating on the mystic import of his gift, he expressed his confidence that in Philip he was one day to find the true champion of the Church.

At the end of a fortnight, the royal traveller resumed his journey. He crossed the famous battle-field of Pavia, and was shown the place where Francis the First surrendered himself a prisoner, and where the Spanish ambuscade sallied out and decided the fortune of the day. His bosom swelled with exultation, as he rode over the ground made memorable by the most brilliant victory achieved by his father—a victory which opened the way to the implacable hatred of his vanquished rival, and to oceans of blood.

From Pavia he passed on to Milan, the flourishing capital of Lombardy—the fairest portion of the Spanish dominions in Italy. Milan was, at that time, second only to Naples in population. It was second to no city in the elegance of its buildings, the splendor of its aristocracy, the opulence and mechanical ingenuity of its burghers. It was renowned, at the same time, for its delicate fabrics of silk, and its armor, curiously wrought and inlaid with gold and silver. In all the arts of luxury and material civilization, it was unsurpassed by any of the capitals of Christendom.

As the prince approached the suburbs, a countless throng of people came forth to greet him. For fifteen miles before he entered the city, the road was spanned by triumphal arches, garlanded with flowers and fruits, and bearing inscriptions, both in Latin and Italian, filled with praises of the father and prognostics of the future glory of the son. Amidst the concourse were to be seen the noble ladies of Milan, in gay, fantastic cars, shining in silk brocade, and with sumptuous caparisons for their horses. As he drew near the town, two hundred mounted gentlemen came out to escort him into the place. They were clothed in complete mail of the fine Milanese workmanship, and were succeeded by fifty pages in gaudy livery, devoted to especial attendance on the prince's person, during his residence in Milan.

Philip entered the gates under a canopy of state, with the cardinal of Trent on his right hand, and Philibert, prince of Piedmont, on his left. He was received, at the entrance, by the governor of the place, attended by the members of the senate, in their robes of office. The houses which lined the long street through which the procession passed were hung with tapestries, and with paintings of the great Italian masters. The balconies and verandahs were crowded with spectators, eager to behold their future sovereign, and rending the air with their acclamations. The ceremony of reception was closed, in the evening, by a brilliant display of fireworks—in which the Milanese excelled—and by a general illumination of the city.

VISIT TO FLANDERS

Philip's time glided away, during his residence at Milan, in a succession of banquets, fêtes, and spectacles of every description which the taste and ingenuity of the people could devise for the amusement of their illustrious guest. With none was he more pleased than with the theatrical entertainments, conducted with greater elegance and refinement in Italy than in any of the countries beyond the Alps. Nor was he always a passive spectator at these festivities. He was especially fond of dancing, in which his light and agile figure fitted him to excel. In the society of ladies he lost much of his habitual reserve; and the dignified courtesy of his manners seems to have made a favorable impression on the fair dames of Italy, who were probably not less pleased by the display of his munificence. To the governor's wife, who had entertained him at a splendid ball, he presented a diamond ring worth five thousand ducats; and to her daughter he gave a necklace of rubies worth three thousand. Similar presents, of less value, he bestowed on others of the court, extending his liberality even to the musicians and inferior persons who had contributed to his entertainment. To the churches he gave still more substantial proofs of his generosity. In short, he showed, on all occasions, a munificent spirit worthy of his royal station.

He took some pains, moreover, to reciprocate the civilities he had received, by entertaining his hosts in return. He was particularly fortunate in exhibiting to them a curious spectacle, which, even with this pleasure-loving people, had the rare merit of novelty. This was the graceful tourney introduced into Castile from the Spanish Arabs. The highest nobles in his suite took the lead in it. The cavaliers were arranged in six quadrilles, or factions, each wearing its distinctive livery and badges, with their heads protected by shawls, or turbans, wreathed around them in the Moorish fashion. They were mounted à la gineta, that is, on the light jennet of Andalusia—a cross of the Arabian. In their hands they brandished their slender lances, with long streamers attached to them, of some gay color, that denoted the particular faction of the cavalier. Thus lightly equipped and mounted, the Spanish knights went through the delicate manœuvres of the Moorish tilt of reeds, showing an easy horsemanship, and performing feats of agility and grace, which delighted the Italians, keenly alive to the beautiful, but hitherto accustomed only to the more ponderous and clumsy exercises of the European tourney.[27]

After some weeks, Prince Philip quitted the hospitable walls of Milan, and set out for the north. Before leaving the place, he was joined by a body of two hundred mounted arquebusiers, wearing his own yellow uniform, and commanded by the duke of Arschot. They had been sent to him as an escort by his father. He crossed the Tyrol, then took the road by the way of Munich, Trent, and Heidelberg, and so on towards Flanders. On all the route, the royal party was beset by multitudes of both sexes, pressing to catch a glimpse of the young prince who was one day to sway the mightiest sceptre in Europe. The magistrates of the cities through which he passed welcomed him with complimentary addresses, and with presents, frequently in the form of silver urns, or goblets, filled with golden ducats. Philip received the donatives with a gracious condescension; and, in truth, they did not come amiss in this season of lavish expenditure. To the addresses, the duke of Alva, who rode by the prince's side, usually responded. The whole of the long journey was performed on horseback—the only sure mode of conveyance in a country where the roads were seldom practicable for carriages.

At length, after a journey of four months, the royal cavalcade drew near the city of Brussels. Their approach to a great town was intimated by the crowds who came to welcome them; and Philip was greeted with a tumultuous enthusiasm, which made him feel that he was now indeed in the midst of his own people. The throng was soon swelled by bodies of the military; and with this loyal escort, amidst the roar of artillery and the ringing of bells, which sent forth a merry peal from every tower and steeple, Philip made his first entrance into the capital of Belgium.

The Regent Mary held her court there, and her brother, the emperor, was occupying the palace with her. It was not long before the father had again the satisfaction of embracing his son, from whom he had been separated so many years. He must have been pleased with the alteration which time had wrought in Philip's appearance. He was now twenty-one years of age, and was distinguished by a comeliness of person, remarked upon by more than one who had access to his presence. Their report is confirmed by the portraits of him from the pencil of Titian—taken before the freshness of youth had faded into the sallow hue of disease, and when care and anxiety had not yet given a sombre, perhaps sullen, expression, to his features.

He had a fair, and even delicate complexion. His hair and beard were of a light yellow. His eyes were blue, with the eyebrows somewhat too closely knit together. His nose was thin and aquiline. The principal blemish in his countenance was his thick Austrian lip. His lower jaw protruded even more than that of his father. To his father, indeed, he bore a great resemblance in his lineaments, though those of Philip were of a less intellectual cast. In stature he was somewhat below the middle height, with a slight, symmetrical figure and well-made limbs. He was attentive to his dress, which was rich and elegant, but without any affectation of ornament. His demeanor was grave with that ceremonious observance which marked the old Castilian, and which may be thought the natural expression of Philip's slow and phlegmatic temperament.[28]

During his long residence in Brussels, Charles had the opportunity of superintending his son's education in one department in which it was deficient—the science of government. And, surely, no instructor could have been found with larger experience than the man who had been at the head of all the great political movements in Europe for the last quarter of a century. Philip passed some time, every day, in his father's cabinet, conversing with him on public affairs, or attending the sessions of the council of state. It can hardly be doubted that Charles, in his private instruction, inculcated on his son two principles so prominent throughout Philip's administration—to maintain the royal authority in its full extent, and to enforce a strict conformity to the Roman Catholic Communion. It is probable that he found his son an apt and docile scholar. Philip acquired, at least, such habits of patient application, and of watching over the execution of his own plans, as have been possessed by few princes.[29]

PUBLIC FESTIVITIES.

The great object of Philip's visit to the Low Countries had been, to present himself to the people of the different provinces, to study their peculiar characters on their own soil, and obtain their recognition as their future sovereign. After a long residence at Brussels, he set out on a tour through the provinces. He was accompanied by the queen-regent, and by the same splendid retinue as on his entrance into the country, with the addition of a large number of the nobles.

The Netherlands had ever been treated by Charles with particular favor, and, under his royal patronage, although the country did not develop its resources as under its own free institutions of a later period, it had greatly prospered. It was more thickly studded with trading towns than any country of similar extent in Europe; and its flourishing communities held the first rank in wealth, industry, and commercial enterprise, as well as in the splendid way of living maintained by the aristocracy. On the present occasion, these communities vied with one another in their loyal demonstrations towards the prince, and in the splendor of the reception which they gave him. A work was compiled by one of the royal suite, setting forth the manifold honors paid to Philip through the whole of the tour, which, even more than his former journey, had the aspect of a triumphal progress. The book grew, under the hands of its patriotic author, to the size of a bulky folio, which, however interesting to his contemporaries, would have but slender attraction for the present generation.[30] The mere inscriptions emblazoned on the triumphal arches, and on the public buildings, spread over a multitude of pages. They were both in Latin and in the language of the country, and they augured the happy days in store for the nation, when, under the benignant sceptre of Philip, it should enjoy the sweets of tranquillity and freedom. Happy auguries! which showed that the prophet was not gifted with the spirit of prophecy.[31]

In these solemnities, Antwerp alone expended fifty thousand pistoles. But no place compared with Brussels in the costliness and splendor of its festivities, the most remarkable of which was a tournament. Under their Burgundian princes the Flemings had been familiar with these chivalrous pageants. The age of chivalry was, indeed, fast fading away before the use of gunpowder and other improvements in military science. But it was admitted that no tourney had been maintained with so much magnificence and knightly prowess since the days of Charles the Bold. The old chronicler's narrative of the event, like the pages of Froissart, seems instinct with the spirit of a feudal age. I will give a few details, at the hazard of appearing trivial to those who may think we have dwelt long enough on the pageants of the courts of Castile and Burgundy. But such pageants form part of the natural accompaniment of a picturesque age, and the illustrations they afford of the manners of the time may have an interest for the student of history.

The tourney was held in a spacious square, inclosed for the purpose, in front of the great palace of Brussels. Four knights were prepared to maintain the field against all comers, and jewels of price were to be awarded as the prize of the victors. The four challengers were Count Mansfeldt, Count Hoorne, Count Aremberg, and the Sieur de Hubermont; among the judges was the duke of Alva; and in the list of the successful antagonists we find the names of Prince Philip of Spain, Emanuel Philibert, duke of Savoy, and Count Egmont. These are names famous in history. It is curious to observe how the men who were soon to be at a deadly feud with one another were thus sportively met to celebrate the pastimes of chivalry.

The day was an auspicious one, and the lists were crowded with the burghers of Brussels, and the people of the surrounding country. The galleries which encompassed the area were graced with the rank and beauty of the capital. A canopy, embroidered with the imperial arms in crimson and gold, indicated the place occupied by Charles the Fifth and his sisters, the regent of the Netherlands, and the dowager queen of France.

For several hours the field was gallantly maintained by the four challengers against every knight who was ambitious to prove his prowess in the presence of so illustrious an assembly. At length the trumpets sounded, and announced the entrance of four cavaliers, whose brilliant train of followers intimated them to be persons of high degree. The four knights were Prince Philip, the duke of Savoy, Count Egmont, and Juan Manriquez de Lara, major-domo of the emperor. They were clothed in complete mail, over which they wore surcoats of violet-colored velvet, while the caparisons of their horses were of cloth of gold.

Philip ran the first course. His antagonist was the Count Mansfeldt, a Flemish captain of great renown. At the appointed signal, the two knights spurred against each other, and met in the centre of the lists with a shock that shivered their lances to the very grasp. Both knights reeled in their saddles, but neither lost his seat. The arena resounded with the plaudits of the spectators, not the less hearty that one of the combatants was the heir apparent.

The other cavaliers then tilted, with various success. A general tournament followed, in which every knight eager to break a lance on this fair occasion took part; and many a feat of arms was performed, doubtless long remembered by the citizens of Brussels. At the end of the seventh hour a flourish of trumpets announced the conclusion of the contest, and the assembly broke up in admirable order, the knights retiring to change their heavy panoplies for the lighter vestments of the ball-room. A banquet was prepared by the municipality, in a style of magnificence worthy of their royal guests. The emperor and his sisters honored it with their presence, and witnessed the distribution of the prizes. Among these, a brilliant ruby, the prize awarded for the lança de las damas—the "ladies' lance," in the language of chivalry—was assigned by the loyal judges to Prince Philip of Spain.

Dancing succeeded to the banquet; and the high-bred courtesy of the prince was as much commended in the ball-room as his prowess had been in the lists. Maskers mingled with the dancers in Oriental costume, some in the Turkish, others in the Albanian fashion. The merry revels were not prolonged beyond the hour of midnight, when the company broke up, loudly commending, as they withdrew, the good cheer afforded them by the hospitable burghers of Brussels.[32]

PUBLIC FESTIVITIES.

Philip won the prize on another occasion, when he tilted against a valiant knight, named Quiñones. He was not so fortunate in an encounter with the son of his old preceptor, Zuñiga, in which he was struck with such force on the head, that, after being carried some distance by his horse, he fell senseless from the saddle. The alarm was great, but the accident passed away without serious consequences.[33]

There were those who denied him skill in the management of his lance. Marillac, the French ambassador at the imperial court, speaking of a tourney given by Philip in honor of the princess of Lorraine, at Augsburg, says he never saw worse lance-playing in his life. At another time he remarks, that the Spanish prince could not even hit his antagonist.[34] It must have been a very palpable hit to be noticed by a Frenchman. The French regarded the Spaniards of that day in much the same manner as they regarded the English at an earlier period, or as they have continued to regard them at a later. The long rivalry of the French and Spanish monarchs had infused into the breasts of their subjects such feelings of mutual aversion, that the opinions of either nation in reference to the other, in the sixteenth century, must be received with the greatest distrust.

But, whatever may have been Philip's success in these chivalrous displays, it is quite certain they were not to his taste. He took part in them only to conform to his father's wishes, and to the humor of the age. Though in his youth he sometimes hunted, he was neither fond of field-sports nor of the athletic exercises of chivalry. His constitution was far from robust. He sought to invigorate it less by exercise than by diet. He confined himself almost wholly to meat, as the most nutritious food, abstaining even from fish; as well as from fruit.[35] Besides his indisposition to active exercises, he had no relish for the gaudy spectacles so fashionable in that romantic age. The part he had played in the pageants, during his long tour, had not been of his own seeking. Though ceremonious, and exacting deference from all who approached him, he was not fond of the pomp and parade of a court life. He preferred to pass his hours in the privacy of his own apartment, where he took pleasure in the conversation of a few whom he honored with his regard. It was with difficulty that the emperor could induce him to leave his retirement and present himself in the audience-chamber, or accompany him on visits of ceremony.[36]

These reserved and quiet tastes of Philip by no means recommended him to the Flemings, accustomed as they were to the pomp and profuse magnificence of the Burgundian court. Their free and social tempers were chilled by his austere demeanor. They contrasted it with the affable deportment of his father, who could so well conform to the customs of the different nations under his sceptre, and who seemed perfectly to comprehend their characters—the astute policy of the Italian, the home-bred simplicity of the German, and the Castilian propriety and point of honor.[37] With the latter only of these had Philip anything in common. He was in everything a Spaniard. He talked of nothing, seemed to think of nothing, but Spain.[38] The Netherlands were to him a foreign land, with which he had little sympathy. His counsellors and companions were wholly Spanish. The people of Flanders felt, that, under his sway, little favor was to be shown to them; and they looked forward to the time when all the offices of trust in their own country would be given to Castilians, in the same manner as those of Castile, in the early days of Charles the Fifth, had been given to Flemings.[39]

Yet the emperor seemed so little aware of his son's unpopularity, that he was at this very time making arrangements for securing to him the imperial crown. He had summoned a meeting of the electors and great lords of the empire, to be held at Augsburg, in August, 1550. There he proposed to secure Philip's election as king of the Romans, so soon as he had obtained his brother Ferdinand's surrender of that dignity. But Charles did not show, in all this, his usual knowledge of human nature. The lust of power on his son's account—ineffectual for happiness as he had found the possession of it in his own case—seems to have entirely blinded him.

He repaired with Philip to Augsburg, where they were met by Ferdinand and the members of the German diet. But it was in vain that Charles solicited his brother to waive his claim to the imperial succession in favor of his nephew. Neither solicitations nor arguments, backed by the entreaties, even the tears, it is said, of their common sister, the Regent Mary, could move Ferdinand to forego the splendid inheritance. Charles was not more successful when he changed his ground, and urged his brother to acquiesce in Philip's election as his successor in the dignity of king of the Romans; or, at least, in his being associated in that dignity—a thing unprecedented—with his cousin Maximilian, Ferdinand's son, who, it was understood, was destined by the electors to succeed his father.

This young prince, who meanwhile had been summoned to Augsburg, was as little disposed as Ferdinand had been to accede to the proposals of his too grasping father-in-law; though he courteously alleged, as the ground of his refusal, that he had no right to interfere with the decision of the electors. He might safely rest his cause on their decision. They had no desire to perpetuate the imperial sceptre in the line of Castilian monarchs. They had suffered enough from the despotic temper of Charles the Fifth; and this temper they had no reason to think would be mitigated in the person of Philip.

AMBITIOUS SCHEMES.

They desired a German to rule over them—one who would understand the German character, and enter heartily into the feelings of the people. Maximilian's directness of purpose and kindly nature had won largely on the affections of his countrymen, and proved him, in their judgment, worthy of the throne.[40]

Philip, on the other hand, was even more distasteful to the Germans than he was to the Flemings. It was in vain that, at their banquets, he drank twice or thrice as much as he was accustomed to do, until the cardinal of Trent assured him that he was fast gaining in the good graces of the people.[41] The natural haughtiness of his temper showed itself on too many occasions to be mistaken. When Charles returned to his palace, escorted, as he usually was, by a train of nobles and princes of the empire, he would courteously take them by the hand, and raise his hat, as he parted from them. But Philip, it was observed, on like occasions, walked directly into the palace, without so much as turning round, or condescending in any way to notice the courtiers who had accompanied him. This was taking higher ground even than his father had done. In fact, it was said of him, that he considered himself greater than his father, inasmuch as the son of an emperor was greater than the son of a king![42]—a foolish vaunt, not the less indicative of his character, that it was made for him, probably, by the Germans. In short, Philip's manners, which, in the language of a contemporary, had been little pleasing to the Italians, and positively displeasing to the Flemings, were altogether odious to the Germans.[43]

Nor was the idea of Philip's election at all more acceptable to the Spaniards themselves. That nation had been long enough regarded as an appendage to the empire. Their pride had been wounded by the light in which they were held by Charles, who seemed to look on Spain as a royal domain, valuable chiefly for the means it afforded him for playing his part on the great theatre of Europe. The haughty Castilian of the sixteenth century, conscious of his superior pretensions, could ill brook this abasement. He sighed for a prince born and bred in Spain, who would be content to pass his life in Spain, and would have no ambition unconnected with her prosperity and glory. The Spaniards were even more tenacious on this head than the Germans. Their remote situation made them more exclusive, mere strictly national, and less tolerant of foreign influence. They required a Spaniard to rule over them. Such was Philip; and they anticipated the hour when Spain should be divorced from the empire, and, under the sway of a patriotic prince, rise to her just preëminence among the nations.

Yet Charles, far from yielding, continued to press the point with such pertinacity, that it seemed likely to lead to an open rupture between the different branches of his family. For a time Ferdinand kept his apartment, and had no intercourse with Charles or his sister.[44] Yet in the end the genius or the obstinacy of Charles so far prevailed over his brother, that he acquiesced in a private compact, by which, while he was to retain possession of the imperial crown, it was agreed that Philip should succeed him as king of the Romans, and that Maximilian should succeed Philip.[45] Ferdinand hazarded little by concessions which could never be sanctioned by the electoral college. The reverses which befell the emperor's arms in the course of the following year destroyed whatever influence he might have possessed in that body; and he seems never to have revived his schemes for aggrandizing his son by securing to him the succession to the empire.

Philip had now accomplished the great object of his visit. He had presented himself to the people of the Netherlands, and had received their homage as heir to the realm. His tour had been, in some respects, a profitable one. It was scarcely possible that a young man, whose days had hitherto been passed within the narrow limits of his own country, for ever under the same local influences, should not have his ideas greatly enlarged by going abroad and mingling with different nations. It was especially important to Philip to make himself familiar, as none but a resident can be, with the character and institutions of those nations over whom he was one day to preside. Yet his visit to the Netherlands had not been attended with the happiest results. He evidently did not make a favorable impression on the people. The more they saw of him, the less they appeared to like him. Such impressions are usually reciprocal; and Philip seems to have parted from the country with little regret. Thus, in the first interview between the future sovereign and his subjects, the symptoms might already be discerned of that alienation which was afterwards to widen into a permanent and irreparable breach.

Philip, anxious to reach Castile, pushed forward his journey, without halting to receive the civilities that were everywhere tendered to him on his route. He made one exception at Trent, where the ecclesiastical council was holding the memorable session that occupies so large a share in Church annals. On his approach to the city, the cardinal legate, attended by the mitred prelates and other dignitaries of the council, came out in a body to receive him. During his stay there, he was entertained with masks, dancing, theatrical exhibitions, and jousts, contrived to represent scenes in Ariosto.[46] These diversions of the reverend fathers formed a whimsical contrast, perhaps a welcome relief, to their solemn occupation of digesting a creed for the Christian world.