CHAPTER X
Antonio Pérez relates in his famous "Memorial" that at first the secretary Escovedo served the King very well in moderating the ambitious ideas of D. John, but that "as time went on it was evident that he not only did not fulfil the purpose for which he had been sent (to Italy), but that his boldness, like that of Juan de Soto, increased, and that in particular it was known that he began to have communication with Rome for some benefit or grandeur for D. John, without informing his Majesty."
There is truth in all this, mingled with much falsehood, as is the case with all the contents of this venomous book. Escovedo never thought that D. John was acting through vulgar ambition; although vulgarity is found in all spheres, it was distasteful to his heroic nature; but he really thought, as Antonio Pérez assured him, that D. John was blinded by his ambitious ideas, and was craving the protection of Rome to carry into effect visionary plans, which, to say the least, would hamper his brother's policy, and that, in short, he was a brave youth, flushed by his victories, whom it would be necessary to lead by the hand along the beaten path of common sense, that he should not engulf his own great qualities in the abyss of daring and fantasy. This is what Escovedo believed about D. John when he went for the first time to Italy in the capacity of secretary: but, learning to appreciate the frank charm of his ways and the simple cheerfulness of his loyal character, he retracted this opinion, and, little by little, the more he knew of D. John and his affairs, the more he became convinced that what Antonio Pérez called his foolhardy notions were really vigorous flights of genius; and that what he named fantasticplans were the well-considered schemes of two Pontiffs like Pius V and Gregory XIII, who were those that thought of and upheld the project of conquering England; and that, quite contrary to what Pérez said, the solicitations at Rome, far from being humiliating to the King of Spain, were honourable offers made, times and again, to D. John by the Popes, who were enchanted by his bravery and valour, and were convinced thatthis John, sent by God, was called to be one of the firmest pillars of the Catholic Church.
Then the same thing occurred which had happened to Juan de Quiroga and afterwards to Juan de Soto. Escovedo became as devoted to D. John as they had been; he was converted into a sincere admirer, who loudly sang D. John's praises and began to favour his plans with all the force of his energetic and passionate nature, giving a strange instance, which proves so much, of three men of recognised merit, of unimpeachable honour and upright intention, all warned by Antonio Pérez against D. John's ambitious plans, falling, one by one, under the spell of his charm, and, against their own interests, devoting themselves to serving and helping him. A great proof that the spell D. John used to throw over these people to draw them to him was, without any doubt, his own worthiness.
This change in Escovedo was effected very quickly, and Madrid knew of it at once, as by June, 1575, it was already an anxiety there, as is shown by the following note written, according to that prudent Monarch's habit, by Philip on the margin of a letter of Mateo Vázguez's. "The arrival of Escovedo is certain, as you will see by this letter, and although it appears he is not coming to ask for money, I am, to the last degree, broken-hearted and tired out by it: although it will be well to send him on at once, I cannot help thinking that he is encouraging him and that that is why he is sent and no one else."
Escovedo did not come to Spain in search of money, although this was very scarce, as it always was in all D. Philip's undertakings: D. John sent him to notify to the King a new complication which had arisen in Genoa, dueto the intervention of the Pope in these circumstances, and to ask for instructions on so delicate a matter.
Having overcome the danger of the Turk in the summer of 1575, D. John gave himself up with perseverance all the rest of that year and the next to ending these quarrels which might undermine the influence of Spain in Italy and even drag her into a war with France. He therefore watched the trend of affairs, sometimes in Naples, sometimes in Genoa itself, finding time and opportunity in both places to give himself up to gay amusements, even to culpable excesses, to which his youth disposed him and the relaxed morals of the day incited him.
It is to this period of his life that must be assigned his intrigues with the unhappy Zenobia Saratosio, who ended by crying over her sin in the convent of St. Mary of Egypt, and with Doña Ana de Toledo, the proud and domineering woman, who, perhaps, would have been the ruin of D. John, had he not by an effort of his strong will, sharpened by a sense of duty, torn himself in time from her evil influence. Luckily these flowery chains did not bind D. John's manly soul; he broke at every step all that impeded his indomitable temper, or what was insisted on by the disquieting voice of remorse.
One night D. John was supping in the palace of Doña Ana de Toledo with several others of those who screened and upheld his evil ways. Suddenly one of his captains of the guard entered hurriedly with the news that on one of the galleys, taken at Lepanto, the "Renegada," the crew, formed of one hundred captive Turks, had risen, killed four soldiers on guard and a boatswain, and had fled with the galley. Crimson with rage, D. John jumped up, leaving his cup of wine half drunk, and ordered the captain to go before him to the mole to warn the galley "Real" that he was at once setting out to pursue the fugitives. In vain Doña Ana begged him not to go, but to send one of the 160 galleys anchored in the port. D. John answered her that it would all be the work of a moment, and that in less than three hours he would return to finish his half-drunk cup. The wilful and tyrannical woman insisted with tears, wishing to bend himto her caprice and menacing him with a cessation of her favours if he refused her. But without saying more D. John dashed into the street, preceded by two pages with torches, calling out to all the soldiers he met on the way, "Quick! Soldiers! Quick! They have taken a galley from us."
He only met a dozen foot soldiers and one sergeant, Rivera, and with them went to the mole, jumped on the "Real," and left the port. The night was dark and the sea rough, and the "Real" flew along, with her lanterns unlighted, impelled by the rowers, who were encouraged by the great rewards offered by D. John.
They overtook the "Renegada" off the entrance of Capri. Seeing the "Real" suddenly appear and deeming it an ordinary galley, the crew prepared to defend themselves; but when they recognised the ship, fear paralysed the fugitives and they did not dare to do so, which explains how fourteen men took a ship on which were a hundred by boarding her; they killed the Turks, overcoming and binding those who survived and took them back to Naples. A little before dawn D. John disembarked in the port, and once more turned his steps to the palace of Doña Ana. He found it all open and lighted up, as if he were expected; but not a single living soul did he see in it; astonished, he reached the dining-room, and there noticed, to his surprise, that the table was cleared, and on it a small, black velvet cloth; at the corners were four silver candlesticks, in which lighted tapers were burning, and in the centre a small golden salver with the half-emptied cup, as D. John had left it. D. John understood that the proud Doña Ana wished to show by this means, very typical of the period, the funeral of her love, and so he accepted it; he drained the cup of wine at a draught and placed it, mouth downwards, on the table again. As he left the house a duenna, placed there, no doubt, by her lady, called to him from one of the grated windows; but D. John never turned his head nor darkened the doors again.
At this time (March, 1576) the Knight Commander Luis de Requesens died in Brussels, from a carbuncle on theback, leaving Flanders, by his death, without a Governor and these States in more danger than ever, as the Provinces had risen and only Luxemburg remained faithful to Spain. "It is to be observed," says a famous historian, "that whenever a grave danger threatened or a state was about to be lost, Philip II turned to his brother D. John of Austria, and confided to his bravery and talent the most arduous enterprises and the causes which seemed the most hopeless, as to one whom he held capable of rectifying what the imprudence, faults or ill-fortune of others seemed to make difficult or almost impossible to remedy."
Thus it was now; in this difficulty Philip II named D. John Governor and Captain-General of the States of Flanders, and until he could arrive to take up the command, entrusted the government of them absolutely to the Senate of Flanders. This last fatal advice was given to Philip by Joachin Oppier, or Hoperus, as others call him, a Fleming who was Secretary for the affairs of Flanders in Madrid.
D. John's new appointment was secretly opposed by Granvelle from Naples and by Antonio Pérez in Madrid. The secretary was much perturbed lest all his efforts to discredit D. John with the King had come to naught; because, although there was no doubt that distrust had entered and still existed in Philip's naturally suspicious mind, still the embers required much fanning to kindle them into a blaze capable of consuming all the great esteem and confidence evinced by this appointment. So vigorously did Antonio Pérez fan them that if documents in his own writing did not prove it, never would it be credited to-day that a man of his astuteness and talent should have been so blinded by his evil passions as to dare to write to Philip II that for D. John, thunderbolt of war, victor of the Moors, terror of the Turk, pacifier of Genoa, and hero of Lepanto, "a clerical habit would be best suited and orders, so that he should not go too far or ever be able to transgress."
CHAPTER XI
D. John of Austria received the news of his appointment in a letter from the King, written on the 8th of April, 1576, just as he had sent the secretary Juan de Escovedo to Rome, having been importuned by further appeals from Gregory XIII about the English expedition. D. John, therefore, deferred replying to this letter until the return of the secretary, presuming with reason that his acceptance or refusal would depend on the news brought from Rome by Escovedo. This delay, however, joined to the information he had received of the secretary's journey and of his interviews with various personages, gave Antonio Pérez an opportunity of continuing his evil work of setting the King against his brother. On the 16th of June he wrote with this intention to Philip, "I am rather worried, Sir, at the way D. John's messenger tarries, because ours must have arrived forty-two days ago, and I have seen a letter of the 8th of May, from Naples, from Lorenzo Spinola, in which he answers those written to him by the post by land and by Santiago; so that more than twelve or fifteen days have gone by without answering, which is a great delay, and makes one suspect the affair is being disputed over by the leagues and congregations there, not that I doubt the obedience of the Lord D. John, but the delay will cause trouble."
On the margin of this letter Philip replied: "Certainly there is much delay about this answer and it is very annoying, since I am hoping that everything will be settled by it, and this delay is very bad for Flemish matters, principally because I had hoped to send this decision by the Marqués de Havré; but as the answer does not arrive and he muststart, I am sending someone by whom to forward it, and thus he must go with a promise, which it will be very undesirable not to fulfil with all dispatch."
Antonio Pérez narrates, with much cynicism, in his "Relaciones" that the King ordered him to pretend to favour the plans of Escovedo and D. John, in order to learn their secrets, if there were any. He needed no command from Philip to do this; but whether or no he had one, it is certain that at this date he was already playing this vile part, as the following letter to Escovedo proves, in which can be seen all the falseness and perfidy of the man, who a few days previously had been advising the King to invest D. John with a priest's dress.
"Truly, Sir, with reference to that of England (the projected expedition), about which your Grace was employed in Rome, I thought that it would be well for H.H. to be at hand and occupied in such serious business for H.M.; the more because I wish to see the Lord D. John in some great appointment, in which he would be master of all, so that H.M. might know his worth, and the good account he would give of such a government, free from embarrassment or rivalry of other Ministers; and it is not a small thing for H.H. to see himself quit of this."
The King sent D. John of Austria his commission and instructions to Lombardy, ordering him to go direct from Milan to Flanders with the haste and caution that the disturbance of these States demanded. But this, however, was not D. John's idea; he wished, beyond anything, to come to Spain, and, avoiding the dishonesty of intermediaries, to treat in person with his brother about the resources on which he might count, and the soldiers he could dispose of in his new and difficult command; he wished also to learn D. Philip's schemes about the English expedition, of which the Nuncio had already spoken to him a second time, because, although it was D. John's greatest wish, he did not desire to do anything in the least against his brother's will; and, lastly, he wanted to plead for his recognition as "Infante," in order to have some rank which would give him sufficient authority as Governor of Flanders, also in England, if the expedition took place. So he wrote to Antonio Pérez announcing his arrival; but the secretary, fearing frank and clear explanations between the two brothers, as much as the King himself did, planned, with him, to stop D. John's arrival by this letter from D. Philip:
ANTONIO PÉREZBy Sir Antonio More
ANTONIO PÉREZBy Sir Antonio More
ANTONIO PÉREZBy Sir Antonio More
"I sent you a messenger by land ordering you to prevent this, and, above all, your coming here, because of the great mistake it would be. I wish to repeat here, and to charge you that in nowise or for any reason whatever you should come, and when your coming will be suitable, nobody will know it or inform you better than I."
D. John, however, was so firm in his intention that, without hesitating even after such a peremptory order, he sent Escovedo on ahead with letters to announce his coming, and himself embarked at Genoa in a galley belonging to Marcelo Doria, with another as escort, so as to arrive at the beginning of September at Barcelona. D. Philip showed his displeasure by sending the following note to meet him:
"Last night Escovedo gave me your letter and advised me of your arrival at Barcelona, and I cannot help saying that great as is the pleasure and wish to have you here, you have taken away much of the joy that it will give me."
D. Philip did even more; he was at the Escorial, where he had spent the summer with his family, and he prolonged his stay later than usual, in order not to be in Madrid when D. John arrived, bidding Antonio Pérez receive and lodge him in the latter's celebrated country house "La Casilla." This is how Antonio Pérez refers to this remarkable incident in the "Memorial": "And truly I must add here, without waiting to go into details, that the reason why Antonio Pérez was the host of D. John in his "Casilla" for a few days was, that the King did not wish to concede the title of Infante, or refuse it, because hope would give D. John better heart to settle things in Flanders. It is a usual habit of princes to obtain fruit from hopes, as it is found in those inspired by them and is generally wanting whenthe favour has been granted. And since D. John had naturally to be in Madrid for his own private affairs and did not wish to be in a hired house, but in the Palace, as a beginning of his treatment as Infante, the King resolved not to return to Madrid until D. John had left for Flanders, so that in this way and at Antonio Pérez's expense the blow to D. John's hopes should be disguised."
Accordingly Antonio Pérez set out to meet him, going as far as Guadalajara, where the Duque del Infantado already awaited D. John, together with the Duque's brothers D. Rodrigo and D. Diego, the Conde de Orgaz, the Duque de Medina de Rioseco, and other intimate friends, who escorted him all that day's journey until they left him at Antonio Pérez's "Casilla." This was the celebrated villa, the wonder of the Madrid of that day, which stood on the site at present occupied by the convent of St. Elizabeth, in the street of the same name. It is now hardly possible to imagine that it was then surrounded by shady gardens, big orchards, and by a green, dark wood more than a league in circumference. The house was large and square, with four towers at the corners, and its big windows with their beautifully wrought gratings opened in two symmetrical rows; the entrance was by a great paved courtyard, in which were rough-stone seats and two cisterns of granite and many iron rings, in the form of heads of wild beasts, horses and dogs, fixed in the wall for tieing up animals. The dining-room and rooms for gaming and diversion were on the right hand; on the left were the guest chambers, and the front of the house was taken up by a suite of saloons, furnished as no house belonging to a Grandee in Madrid, was, with pictures, tapestries, Venetian glass, furniture of precious woods and massive silver, and thousands of other valuable things which made the house an object of wonder and gossip for the whole Court: they asked each other how Antonio Pérez could afford luxury greater than that displayed by the most powerful Grandee, as he had no fortune either acquired or inherited, and they whispered about, and even plainly mentioned, bribes, falsehoods, intrigues, and infamous mean acts, the truth of which wasproved, years afterwards, in the celebrated trial of the secretary.
It was in the five front rooms that D. John was lodged; they were furnished with all that was best and richest to be found, and as a perfidious compliment from the false Pérez to the future King of England, he placed canopies and attributes of royalty in each of them. In the first room there was a rich gold and silver tapestry of the sacrifice of Abraham and a canopy of tawny velvet, adorned with plates of gold and hammered silver. In another room, arranged for the times when D. John wished to dine alone, there was a similar tapestry with the story of Joseph, a canopy and chairs embroidered in different colours, and a wooden dais with a rich carpet. Then came the ante-room with gold and silver tapestry, with scenes from the Æneid, and a canopy of gold and silver embroidered in relief in different colours, and inlaid writing-tables with their implements of gold and silver beautifully wrought. The bedroom was next, with tapestry of brocaded green gold (verde auro), a silk carpet, and tables and chairs of silver; the bed was also of silver, with angels on the posts holding tablets with this inscription: "The Lord D. John sleeps. Enter softly." Joining the alcove was a closet, hung with gold and silver tapestry, which did not reach the ground, with a bath with perfumes, a dressing-table of silver, and all the necessary implements of the same metal. All over the house were scent-burners with different sweet perfumes, even the courtyard held two of them, under the care of as many lackeys, who perfumed the cloths of the horses as they came in and out. "And to such lengths," says Luis de Zapata de Calatayud naïvely, "did his luxury and ostentation reach, that there was the wherewithal to clean the shoes of those who entered his house on foot, who did not fail to leave them at the door, as the Moors do on entering a mosque."
CHAPTER XII
Antonio Pérez gave up the "Casilla" to D. John and his household, and retired with his wife and sons to his other magnificent and sumptuous house "La Villa," which had belonged to the Conde de Puñonrostro, and was contiguous to the church of St. Justin (the site now occupied by the military school). Every day, however, he went to the "Casilla," to pay his court to D. John and to attend him on his visits, business, and pleasures. Antonio Pérez wasted no time; he had already on the way from Guadalajara exaggerated D. Philip's displeasure, and had offered to go post-haste to the Escorial to try to placate the King with some pretext which he would invent. This he did as soon as he had installed his illustrious guest in the "Casilla," and at the Escorial the King and the secretary decided together that D. John should present himself there as soon as possible, in order not further to delay his departure for Flanders, and that Pérez should boast of the friendly act in having smoothed the annoyance of the King, the more to confirm D. John's incautious confidence, which Pérez was so treacherously acquiring.
D. Philip received his brother with the greatest affability, and without making the slightest allusion to the annoyance the coming of D. John had caused him; he rose on seeing D. John enter the room, and at once gave his hand to be kissed, embracing him tenderly, and then, what always happened when the two brothers met face to face, occurred. The ice melted, suspicion was calmed, and D. John's loyal frankness and lovable charm penetrated and even overthrew D. Philip's cold reserve. It is nowhere related that D. John spoke at that time, as he meant to have done, about histitle of Infante: perhaps the artful Pérez had dissuaded him, or maybe he forebore of his own accord, in view of D. Philip's determination to organise the English expedition, according to the plans of Gregory XIII, as soon as Flanders should be pacified. D. Philip's promises were so clear and definite that it is impossible to believe, as Antonio Pérez asserts, that it was simply a strategy to animate D. John by these hopes, without supposing in Philip a falseness and bad faith capable of sweeping away and treading everything under foot. Because it was not only D. John who was taken in by this strategy; it was also the Sovereign Pontiff, the instigator and principal upholder of the English enterprise, and the English and Scotch lords and all the Catholics in these kingdoms, who were risking their lives and properties; and it was, above all, the unlucky Queen of Scots who, deceived by these false hopes, would lose time and the opportunity for using surer means of freeing herself from captivity and death.
Moreover, Philip II did not restrict himself to making these promises privately to D. John, or only by word of mouth; he also made them in writing in two letters which he sent to him in Flanders. Here are the two important documents, which should be read with the greatest attention, because they contain the standard of D. John's loyal conduct in that appointment.
"By another, which goes with this, you will see what I think about the English business. In this I have desired to tell you that the good-will I always have towards you as a brother is such and so great that, after the service which I wish to render to Our Lord in converting this kingdom to the Catholic religion, I wish more than you can estimate, that this should succeed as a way in which I can prove how much I love you; and as a sign and proof of this, from this moment, I assure you that, the business of this kingdom settled, it will be my delight to see you in possession of it, marrying you to the Queen of Scotland, if she be still alive, freeing her and setting her on her throne, which seems to be her desire, and it will be more than dueto him who has delivered her from all this peril and placed her in freedom and possession of her throne; even if your rank and quality were not equal to hers, your bravery makes you well deserve each other. And though if this happens there are some things to settle and agree about, it seems to me useless to do so before the time, and it suffices, at present, to tell you, as above, what are to be the ways and conditions which seem to me best for my service and for the welfare of our affairs and States."
The other letter of the same date, alluded to in the one above, says:
"Having considered the orders and advice that I gave you regarding what should be done for the absolute pacification of Flanders, and particularly about removing the Spaniards, if it be necessary, and what to do with them, since you left I have thought what it would be well to do with these soldiers in that case, and whether at this juncture it would be desirable to undertake the English affair, representing to myself, on the one hand, that no better time could offer for taking the Queen of that kingdom unawares and for withdrawing these soldiers from my States with honour, and of the great service it would be to Our Lord to convert that kingdom to the Catholic religion, and other considerations which occurred to me; and, on the other hand, of the responsibilities we undertake in beginning, without much reason or certainty of success, of the difficulties which may arise in this undertaking, and of the great troubles which might be caused by upsetting Christendom and all the world. I wished to advise you about all I think of this affair and my wishes concerning it. First, you must not by any means embark on this business until all is quiet and peaceable in those States. Moreover, it must be well considered how much the help of the English can be counted on in this enterprise, as there is no kingdom, however small, that can be gained without the help of that kingdom, nor should anyone try to do so. Besides this, we must consider whether the said Queen is suspicious about your going to those States, and has taken precautions and begun to live with greater care for hersafety and that of the kingdom, because if this were so there would be no use in thinking of the business. To allay the said Queen's suspicion and distrust that the seeing you in those States may have caused her, it seems to me that it would be well to continue to make much of her and to be on good terms with her as opportunity offers."
Philip appeared much pleased by his brother's visit to the Escorial, and, contrary to what he had told Pérez, accompanied him to Madrid on the 22nd of September, and ordered the prelates of the religious orders to make public rogations and processions for the success of D. John's journey and Governorship. D. John took advantage of the days during which D. Philip lingered over dispatching him to enjoy the company of his friends, and this he did at the sumptuous suppers which Antonio Pérez gave daily at the "Casilla," followed by much gambling and picnics at Los Chorrillos, a delightful spot in the wood, to which the great ladies of the Court also came. The most sought after of these was the Princess de Évoli, then a widow, about whose intimacy with Antonio Pérez people had begun to whisper. This gossip had not yet reached the ears of D. John, but it was then brought by the Marqués de Fabara, an ill-natured busybody, who had fought under his orders in the Alpujarras, and who now followed him about, wishing to be taken to Flanders. The Marqués said much about the lady's light conduct and the presumption of the haughty plebeian, and ended by consulting D. John whether as a relation of the Princess he ought to beat Antonio Pérez or give him a thrust with his sword. D. John cut him short by saying that he did not understand questions of casuistry, only war; but what Fabara said made him remember certain strange familiarities he had noticed between the secretary and the Princess, on the several visits that he had paid her in her house in the lane of St. Mary, always accompanied by Pérez. A simple event happened the next day which ended by convincing him of these impure loves which were to bring about the terrible drama which Antonio Pérez was preparing.
In the wood of the "Casilla" there was a delightful place called Los Chorrillos, from the springs which burst forth there. Antonio Pérez had built a cottage there, rustic in appearance, but in reality costly and luxurious, and had made in front of it a wide space, on which cane jousts could be held, or tilting at the ring, or even bull-fights and other games of the period. Before D. John left, Antonio Pérez gave a picnic to the ladies at the Chorrillos, and to amuse and please them the gentlemen were to tilt at the "estafermo." This game consisted in a big figure of an armed man, with a shield in his left hand, and in his right some straps, from which bags of sand hung. The figure was placed on a pole, above an axle, so that it could turn round; when a rider, coming at it with his lance couched, struck the shield and made the figure turn quickly, it gave him a heavy blow with the bags if he were not very quick; to avoid the blow with dexterity was the first point in the game.
The ladies arrived at the "Casilla," some in coaches, others in litters, and the humbler ones among them on horseback, all very smart and accompanied by gallants; at the head of them was the Duquesa de Infantado, Doña Juana de Coello, the wife of Antonio Pérez, and the Princess de Évoli. From the "Casilla" to Los Chorillos, a distance of about half a league, the ladies went in carts prepared by Antonio Pérez; these were adorned with tapestries and brocades and soft cushions, and the oxen were caparisoned with crimson and had their horns gilded; the herdsmen were dressed in shepherd's garb of brocade and fine skins, and velvet caps, and in their hands were long wands of wood with silver rings. The gentlemen rode around the carts, going from one to the other with merry talk and seemly jests. The "estafermo" was erected in the middle of the ground; it was a grotesque and corpulent warrior, armed like a Fleming, a caricature of the Prince of Orange, the redoubtable leader of the rebels in Flanders. And that no one should doubt the meaning there was written in big letters on the support of the "estafermo," "The Silent," which was the nickname given to Orange.
It happened that, when tilting at the "estafermo," Honorato de Silva, a gentleman much liked by D. John, gave such a hard thrust that one of the bags fell off and by ill-luck knocked Antonio Pérez on the head, who fell, stunned and unconscious from the blow. Everyone was upset; they carried him to the rustic cottage, and the first fright over went back to the game, laughing over the violence of the Prince of Orange. Antonio Pérez remained resting in a little room apart. After a long while D. John went to see him; at the door he met one of the Princess de Évoli's duennas, named Doña Bernardina, sitting on a bench. She was much perturbed at seeing him and wished to prevent his entering, saying that the Lord Antonio was asleep; but as at that moment D. John heard laughing behind the curtain, the duenna darted into the room to give warning; unfortunately, as she lifted the curtain, D. John could plainly see Antonio Pérez lying on a low sofa and the Princess de Évoli kneeling before him, and with great liveliness, amid the laughter of both, putting medicated cloths on his head, which she wetted in a silver bowl placed on the ground. D. John pretended to have seen nothing, neither did he dare confide the matter to anyone for fear of showing up the weakness of a lady and the peccadilloes of a friend. But many months later, away in Flanders, while he was talking one day to Escovedo about certain demands of the Princess de Évoli, which the secretary wished to grant, he was obliged, in order to convince Escovedo of the shamelessness of the case, to tell him of Fabara's gossip and the scene at the Chorrillos. D. John himself thus, unconsciously, unchained the winds of the terrible storm of reproaches, hatred and shame in which Escovedo perished.
The King arranged D. John's journey with great caution and mystery, to prevent his departure being known in Flanders, lest they should guard against his coming. He set out at the end of October, without saying farewell to anyone, and, as the story goes, went to the Escorial to return again to Madrid, where Escovedo awaited him, arranging with the Treasurer Garnica the necessary funds for paying the troops in Flanders. At the Escorial D. John took leaveof his suite, and with only Octavio Gonzaga and Honorato de Silva went by post to Abrojo, where he was expected by Doña Magdalena de Ulloa. D. John had written to tell her he had prepared for the visit "a ceremonial which delights your Grace, as you are so holy, and for the great love you have for me, the like of which certainly I have never found or ever shall find in my life."
This "ceremonial" which D. John had arranged was one of the proofs of his tender affection, knowing the highly religious feelings of the noble lady. The day of his arrival he confessed fully to the old Fr. Juan de Calahorra, and on the next, in the Prior's private oratory, he communicated humbly and devoutly at Doña Magdalena's side, partaking of the same wafer as she did, as on the first occasion of his approaching the holy table, led by the hand of Doña Magdalena, twenty years before, away in Villagarcia. Tears of quiet joy streamed over the old lady's wrinkled cheek, as she understood that in this way D. John wished to show her that his faith and his love for her were unchanged, and tears also ran down the face of the hero of Lepanto as he reflected that, although his faith and filial love were unaltered, yet that he could not kneel by the side of that saintly woman wearing, as before, the white stole of innocence, but rather the rough, dark sackcloth of penitence.
Then he gave her several Bulls and briefs obtained by him from the Roman Pontiff, conceding graces and privileges to the church and house of the Jesuits, founded by Doña Magdalena at Villagarcia, and the drawings of the beautiful alabaster "retablo" representing the Passion of Our Lord, which he had ordered for the same church, in which lay buried "his uncle and father Luis Quijada," and in which a sepulchre for Doña Magdalena was open and ready. Too soon for everyone came the moment of departure. D. John was to make the rest of the journey disguised as the servant of Octavio Gonzaga, and for this purpose donned a coat of brown homespun, a cap of the same, and high boots of Cordovan leather; he also wished to cut off his moustaches but Doña Magdalena cried out against this profanation of D. John's manly beauty and the sacrifice of those fair hair,she had seen slowly grow. She offered herself to stain his hair and beard black with some dye he had brought, and did so, taking great pains, holding D. John's head in her lap as when he was a child, amid peals of laughter on his part and no small amusement and tenderness on hers. Her work finished, Doña Magdalena contemplated it, and thought D. John as comely as a black-haired servant as he was as a fair-haired Prince, and, smiling complacently, she said, half pleased and half nervous, "It must be a very obtuse person that Y.H. takes in—they will all say, 'Under this sackcloth there is ——'"
Doña Magdalena mounted a tower on the wall which surrounded Abrojo, to see the last of him, with Fr. Juan de Calahorra, the Prior, and the other monks, and, bathed in tears, to watch him turn his head and smile at the last bend of the road, her kind heart not guessing that he was disappearing for ever, that she would never see him again, and that in less than two years all this youth, gallantry and greatness would be dust, and that this deep, pure love would be nothing but a memory in her old age.
CHAPTER XIII
D. John of Austria wished to make up for his delay in starting by the haste with which he accomplished the journey, and so rapidly did he make it, and so arduous was it, that with his usual good humour he could with reason write to his great friends the Conde de Orgaz and D. Rodrigo de Mendoza, "Octavio is very stiff, and the same would your lordships have been, if you had slept as little, hurried as much, and gone through all that we have, which made us often call out, Ah! D. Rodrigo! Ah! Conde de Orgaz!"
On the 20th of October he wrote to the King from Ventosa; and again on the 24th from Irun, to announce that he was crossing the frontier alone with Octavio Gonzaga, as he had left Honorato de Silva ill at Fuenterrabia. On the 31st, at six in the morning, he wrote from Paris, complaining of the dreadful roads and bad horses, and of having journeyed two days with a French merchant, who had given him his trunk to carry for three stages, being quite taken in by his disguise of servant. On the 3rd of November they at last reached Luxemburg at night, from where he wrote first to the Council in Brussels, which held the temporary Government, representing the Senate, and afterwards to the Spanish soldiers, notifying them of his arrival and the command he brought from the King. He wrote also to D. Philip, telling him of the dreadful disorder of these provinces, of the complete isolation of his servants, friends and partisans, and the difficulties which offered themselves with regard to handing over the command to him.
In truth, the arrival of D. John could not have been at a more difficult or dangerous time. On the 3rd of November,the day he first trod Flemish soil, Antwerp was taken, and its horrible sack by the Spanish and German troops took place. These furious and mutinous men then took in a cruel and evil way the pay which the Council of Brussels maliciously held back from them. The Council, terrified, authorised all citizens to arm themselves, and ordered the expulsion of all foreign troops from the States. At this juncture D. John's letters reached the Council in Brussels and the victorious and mutinous troops at Antwerp. These obeyed at once, laying down their arms as their beloved and respected General ordered, and there was great rejoicing among them that he had come as Governor and Captain-General. But the Council was divided within itself, some refusing to hand over the command to D. John; others feared such disobedience against the authority of the King, and they were only agreed in asking the advice of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, the oracle and shrewd instigator of all these more or less disguised rebels.
The answer of Orange was precise: liberty bought at the price of so much blood could not be given up by making over the command to D. John of Austria; and if the Council lacked the courage to retain it, they were first "with pride and arrogance" to exact from D. John that he would confirm on oath the "Pacification of Ghent," one of whose articles was the expulsion of all foreign troops from Flemish soil. This "Pacification of Ghent" was in itself an act of rebellion and independence, for it was resolved upon at a peace conference between the Prince of Orange and the Council of Brussels, as provisional Government, in the name of the King, but without the knowledge or authority of Philip II.
The Council agreed to the latter part of Orange's answer, not having the courage to oppose D. John openly, and sent it to him by the senator Iskio; but couched in such haughty and insolent language that the ambassador was in difficulties, not knowing which to fear the more—the wrath of the Senate, if he refused to take it, or the anger of D. John, if he did. He took counsel of a guest in his house, who said, "Take my advice, Iskio, for this Gordianknot use the sword of Alexander: when you are alone with the Austrian, draw the steel with dexterity, and bury it in the body of this man who is fraudulent and baneful to Flanders. By his death you will free yourself from his annoyance, and will be certain of the thanks of the States." Iskio understood with horror that this was the general wish in Flanders, and resolved to take the message to D. John on his own account, softening its terms as much as possible. But such was the dignity and politeness of D. John in giving his refusal, and such the graciousness of his reception of Iskio, understanding his good intentions, that the messenger, completely subjugated and full of enthusiasm, warmly praised D. John to the Senate when he returned to Brussels, which brought him insults and bad treatment from many, and, over-excited by such conflicting emotions, in a few days he went mad.
His arguments, however, had impressed the Council, and they decided to send D. John a second message by John Funk, this time a very respectful and courteous one, begging him to deign to ratify the "Peace of Ghent." D. John answered with equal politeness that he must have time to think it over and to study thoroughly the eighteen articles of the said convention: he suspected that there might be something against the Catholic religion, and wished to submit it to the opinion of theologians. D. John was also very perplexed about the expulsion of the Spanish troops, and on this subject asked the opinion of the only two confidential advisers he had there, Octavia Gonzaga and Juan de Escovedo.
Gonzaga replied at once without hesitation, as a man full of an idea who takes the opportunity of displaying it, that he thought that it was neither prudent nor seemly to send away the Spanish regiments; it was not seemly, as the Governor was the King's representative, and he should submit to no conditions save those imposed by the King; it was not prudent, because once the soldiers had left Flanders, the royal authority and the person of D. John, who represented it, would be helpless, aloneand without support in this country of shameless rebels, secret enemies and lukewarm friends who could, with impunity, laugh at the one and ruin the other whenever they wished. Escovedo, on the other hand, thought that the Spanish regiments should leave Flanders as soon as possible, because the King wished for peace at all costs, giving in to everything which was not against religion or the royal authority; and the expulsion of the Spaniards was against neither the one nor the other, and was necessary to obtain peace in the actual state of affairs. It also seemed to him that the noble confidence with which D. John placed himself in the hands of the Flemings would oblige them the more to act loyally, and in the opposite case that Gonzaga imagined, they were not so badly off for German troops that they would not be able to resist, nor the Spaniards so far off that they could not return there in time. Escovedo also urged secretly, and pressed D. John with this other argument; if, as the Council believed, the expulsion of the Spanish regiments would assure the peace of Flanders, they could at once undertake the expedition to England and use these famous and dreaded troops, as Philip II remarked in a letter written from the Pardo which D. John received from him just then.
D. John pondered over and weighed these arguments. He could clearly see that Gonzaga was thinking of the dignity of Spain and Escovedo of his own golden dream, the expedition to England, and he did not dare to decide for himself, fearing lest his own wish and feelings should carry him away, so he loyally submitted it for Philip II to decide. At the same time he sent the opinions of four Bishops, twelve Abbots, fourteen theologians eminent in offices and dignities, nine doctors and professors, and five jurists of Louvain, that there was nothing prejudicial to religion or the royal authority in the eighteen articles of the "Peace of Ghent."
Meanwhile deputations of the clergy and nobility of those parts, who publicly acknowledged themselves loyal to Spain and Philip II, came to welcome D. John in Luxemburg, and these also urged that the Spanish troops shouldbe dismissed as soon as possible, adding arguments and proposals, warnings, and presumptuous, even rude advice, which clearly showed to what an extent the very name of Spain was distasteful and even hated in Flanders. On one of these deputations came the Bishop of Arras, with the Baron of Liquerque and the Marquis de Havré, who was brother to the Duke of Arschot and had been to Spain several times, and to whom Philip had shown much favour and proof of confidence. When the Marquis saw that his companions were amusing themselves or pretending to do so at the end of the room, he took D. John apart to the opposite end, and there point-blank, without fear of God or respect for himself, proposed thathe (D. John) should rise with all and rule over the States, and they would help him. The shame and anger which showed in D. John's face cut the speech short, and mechanically he put his hand to his dagger, according to what Vander Hammen and Porreño say, referring to this deed of D. John's, "That, not being able to suffer this blow, which touched his fidelity to the quick, he drew out his dagger and wounded him with great indignation."
D. John was more heroic than this, as, from prudence and loyalty to the King, he was silent and swallowed the affront; and thus Escovedo refers to it in a letter to the King, written on the 21st of January, 1577: "And to advise Y.M. that Y.M. should see what good and loyal vassals Y.M. has here, and how much they love you. Know that the Marquis de Havré, on his own part and that of others, tempted the Lord D. John, offering all this for himself, and that he should not lose the chance, and although he tried to change the subject, pretending not to understand, he was so bold and shameless that he repeated it. He answered that God save Y.M., that they had a very good King, and that it would not be well for them to alter, and he swore to me that he was moved to box his ears, and that he would have done so, if it would not have done harm to the main business."
D. John speaks of the matter in a very veiled way in one of his letters to D. Rodrigo de Mendoza:
"Lately came a deputation and embassy from the States, among others the Marquis de Havré, strangely without shame and respect even, since he openly spoke of everything, trusting everything and everybody without any respect, as I say."
At last Philip's reply arrived, ordering D. John to sign, without demur, the "Pacification of Ghent," and to send the Spanish regiments at once away from Flanders. D. John felt greatly humiliated and discouraged, because before sending away the regiments it was necessary to pay them, and D. Philip did not mention this or send any money whatever.
CHAPTER XIV
Amid the struggles and anxieties which caused D. John to know contempt and humiliations for the first time, he had one pleasure, which, in spite of there being much to embitter it, must still have been a great one, that of making the acquaintance of his mother, and of embracing her for the first and last time. No sooner had he arrived in Luxemburg than he wrote to her at Ghent, where she then was, inviting her to come and see him, as he could not, as he ought to do, visit her at that moment; and as the cold, shallow Barbara Blombergh neither came nor answered the letter, he sent a second message, this time accompanied by everything necessary for her to perform the journey in a suitable and comfortable way. She came, and the mother and the son met. We do not know what she felt on finding herself in the presence of this brilliant and renowned son, who up to now had inspired her with nothing but indifference. As to D. John, apart from the natural love and respect due to her name of mother, she made a disagreeable impression on him, perhaps because his ideals of mothers and widows were formed on the austere and refined model of that great lady Doña Magdalena de Ulloa.
Barbara Blombergh was then over fifty, and she preserved traces of her great beauty, which she tried to enhance with cosmetics and fine clothes, unsuited to her age or situation. She, however, lacked that inborn distinction and dignity which then, even more than now, characterised ladies of noble lineage; because education, which to-day refines, polishes and levels manners to a certain extent, belonged then exclusively to dames of high degree. Barbara Blombergh certainly did not belongto this privileged class, although several historians have asserted it, in order to exalt D. John's maternal descent. She was simply a girl of the middle class, daughter of a citizen of Ratisbon of moderate fortune. Three years after the birth of D. John she married Jerome Kegel, who was not a noble gentleman either, but a poor "hére," as Gachard calls him, who for a humble position at the Court of Queen Mary, the Regent of Flanders, compromised himself by giving her his name and sheltering her dishonour.
Madam Blombergh, as from this time she began to call herself, was left a widow in June, 1569, and then it was that her cold, shallow, hard, extravagant and ungenerous character began to show itself freely. "As vapid as obstinate," said the Duque de Alba. But what is really surprising about her is the indifference that she always showed for her son D. John, who by the greatness of his name would have seemed called to be her glory and pride, and by his love, respect and solicitude for her, her delight and good fortune. In the Alba archives there is a letter from D. John to his mother, the only one known, which begins in this way: "Lady, it is many days since I had news of you, which worries me, having written and begged, last from Messina, that you should always remember to advise me about your health and of what is your pleasure, as besides the obligation I am under to procure it for you as your son, I also much wish to give it to you, being certain that I owe it to the good mother and lady you are to me." Compare this letter with another from D. John to Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, and it will be plainly seen that if Barbara Blombergh was in fact his mother, the one who responded to his filial affections was the illustrious widow of Luis Quijada: "Lady, I kiss your hands for the trouble you take in always answering my letters, but principally because what I wish is to hear continually of your health and welfare."
When Kegel died D. John begged Philip II to come to his mother's assistance, and the King sent the Duque de Alba, then Governor of the Low Countries, to visitMadam Blombergh, and to suggest to her that, having such a son as hers in Spain, she should make her residence there. Madam Blombergh replied that although, doubtless, she would much like to see her son, it was of no use talking to her about going to Spain, for she well knew the way women were shut up there, and wild horses would not make her go to such a country. Philip II then gave her an income of 4944 florins, with which she installed herself with a luxury and parade it was impossible to support on these means. Her household consisted of a duenna and six waiting-maids, a steward, two pages, a chaplain, a butler, four servants, and a coach with all its paraphernalia of grooms and horses. She then began the gay, but not very decorous, life of festivities and banquets which caused the warnings and complaints of the Duque de Alba, and first the admonitions and later the violent measures of Philip II, which, however, on account of the political disturbances, could not be carried out until the arrival of D. John in Flanders. This made Barbara Blombergh's departure more than ever necessary, so as not to compromise the authority of D. John at this difficult moment by her frivolities and imprudences. But as neither by prayers nor by wise persuasion could he overcome his mother's invincible obstinacy about going to Spain, he resolved to use the stratagem he had devised long ago with his brother Philip II.
He told her that his sister Donna Margarita of Austria much wished to know her, and had invited her to spend a few months at the palace of Aquila in the Abruzzi. This invitation from such a personage as the Duchess of Parma gratified Madam Blombergh immensely, and she accepted at once, only bargaining to settle afterwards to live where she wished. D. John agreed, and Madam Blombergh set out for Italy with all her household the middle of March, 1577. As extra steward D. John sent a confidential person called Pero Sánchez, who was used to travelling, and who carried secret instructions. On arriving at Genoa they found a luxurious galley which Pero Sánchez said was ready to carry them to Naples, and thence they could journey overland to the Abruzzi. Without any mistrust the embarkation was made, and after a disagreeable voyage of some days' duration they sighted the grey mountains of Vizcaya, so different from the blue Neapolitan coast, where they thought to arrive. The galley had gone to Spain and was at Laredo.