Thus distrusted, if not held in positive aversion, by his father; excluded from any share in the business of the state, as well as from a military life, which would seem to have been well suited to his disposition; surrounded by Philip's ministers, whom Carlos, with too much reason, regarded as spies on his actions,—the unhappy young man gave himself up to a reckless course of life, equally ruinous to his constitution and to his character; until the people, who had hailed with delight the prospect of a native-born prince, now felt a reasonable apprehension as to his capacity for government.[1434]

But while thus an object of distrust at home, abroad more than one sovereign coveted an alliance with the heir of the Spanish monarchy. Catharine de Medicis would gladly have secured his hand for a younger sister of Isabella, in which project she was entirely favored by the queen. This was in 1565; but Philip, in his usual procrastinating spirit, only replied, "They must reflect upon it."[1435] He looked with a more favorable eye on the proposals warmly pressed by the emperor and empress of Germany, who, as we have seen, still cherished a kindly remembrance of Carlos, and wished his union with their daughter Anne. That princess, who was a year younger than her cousin, claimed Spain as her native land, having been born there during the regency of Maximilian. But although the parties were of suitable age, and Philip acquiesced in the proposals for their marriage, his want of confidence in his son, if we may credit the historians, still moved him to defer the celebration of it.[1436] Anne did indeed live to mount the throne of Castile, but as the wife, not of Carlos, but of Philip, after the death of Isabella. Thus, by a singular fatality, the two princesses who had been destined for the son were each of them married to the father.

The revolutionary movement in the Netherlands was at this time the great subject that engaged the attention of the Spaniards; and Carlos is reported to have taken a lively interest in it. According to Antonio Perez, the Flemings then at the court made positive overtures to the prince to head the revolt.[1437] Strada speaks of Bergen and Montigny, then at Madrid, as the channel of communication through which Carlos engaged to settle the affairs of that distracted country.[1438] That a person of his ardent temper should have felt sympathy with a people thus bravely struggling for its liberties, is not improbable; nor would one with whom "to think and to speak was the same thing,"[1439] be at all unlikely to express himself on the subject with much more freedom than discretion. And it may have been in allusion to this that his{466} almoner, Suarez, in a letter without date, implores the prince "to abandon his dangerous designs, the illusion of the Evil One, which cannot fail to bring mischief to himself and disquiet to the monarchy!"[1440] The letter concludes with a homily, in which the good doctor impresses on the prince the necessity of filial obedience, by numerous examples, from sacred and profane story, of the sad end of those who had impiously rejected the counsels of their parents.[1441]

But although it is true that this hypothesis would explain much that is enigmatical in the subsequent history of Carlos, I must confess I have met with no confirmation of it in the correspondence of those who had the direction of affairs in the Low Countries, nor in the charges alleged against Montigny himself,—where an attempt to suborn the heir-apparent, one might suppose, would have been paraded as the most heinous offence. Still, that Carlos regarded himself as the proper person to be intrusted with the mission to the Netherlands is evident from his treatment of Alva, when that nobleman was appointed to the command of the army.

On that occasion, as the duke came to pay his respects to him previous to his departure, the prince fiercely said, "You are not to go to Flanders; I will go there myself." Alva endeavored to pacify him, saying that it was too dangerous a mission for the heir to the throne; that he was going to quiet the troubles of the country, and prepare it for the coming of the king, when the prince could accompany his father, if his presence could be spared in Castile. But this explanation served only to irritate Carlos the more; and, drawing his dagger, he turned suddenly on the duke, exclaiming, "You shall not go; if you do, I will kill you." A struggle ensued,—an awkward one for Alva, as to have injured the heir-apparent might have been construed into treason. Fortunately, being much the stronger of the two, he grappled with Carlos, and held him tight, while the latter exhausted his strength in ineffectual struggles to escape. But no sooner was the prince released, than he turned again, with the fury of a madman, on the duke, who again closed with him, when the noise of the fray brought in one of the chamberlains from an adjoining room; and Carlos, extricating himself from the iron grasp of his adversary, withdrew to his own apartment.[1442]

Such an outrage on the person of his minister was regarded by Philip as an indignity to himself. It widened the breach, already too wide, between father and son; and so great was this estrangement, that, when living in the same palace, they seem to have had no communication with each other.[1443] Much of Philip's time, however, at this period, was passed at the Escorial, where he was watching over the progress of the magnificent pile which was to commemorate the victory of St. Quentin. But, while in his retreat, the ministers placed about his son furnished the king with faithful reports of his proceedings.

{467}

Such was the deplorable state of things, when Carlos came to the fatal determination to escape from the annoyances of his present position by flying to some foreign land. To what country is not certainly known; some say to the Netherlands, others to Germany. The latter, on the whole, seems the most probable; as in the court of Vienna he would meet with his promised bride, and friends who would be sure to welcome him.

As he was destitute of funds for such a journey, he proposed to raise them through a confidential agent, one of his own household, by obtaining loans from different cities. Such a reckless mode of proceeding, which seemed at once to proclaim his purpose, intimated too plainly the heedlessness of his character, and his utter ignorance of affairs.

But while these negotiations were in progress, a circumstance occurred, exhibiting the conduct of Carlos in such a light that it may claim the shelter of insanity. The story is told by one of the prince's household, an ayuda de camara, or gentleman of the chamber, who was present at the scene, which he describes with much simplicity.

For some days his master, he tells us, had no rest, frequently repeating, that "he desired to kill a man with whom he had a quarrel!"[1444] The same thing he said—without, however, intimating who the man was—to his uncle, Don John of Austria, in whom he seems to have placed unbounded confidence. This was near Christmas, in 1567. It was customary on the twenty-eighth of December, the day of the Innocents, for the members of the royal family to appear together, and take the sacrament in public. Carlos, in order to prepare for this, on the preceding evening went to the church of St. Jerome, to confess and receive absolution. But the confessor, when he heard the strange avowal of his murderous appetite, refused to grant absolution. Carlos applied to another ecclesiastic, but with as little success. In vain he endeavored to argue the case. They recommended him to send for more learned divines, and take their opinion. He did so forthwith; and no less than fourteen monks from the convent of Our Lady of Atocha, and two from another quarter, were brought together to settle this strange point of casuistry. Greatly shocked, they were unanimous in their opinion, that, under the circumstances, absolution could not be granted. Carlos next inquired whether he might not be allowed to receive an unconsecrated wafer, which would obviate the scandal that his omitting to take the sacrament would infallibly occasion in the court. The reverend body were thrown into fresh consternation by this proposal. The prior of Atocha, who was among the number, wishing to draw from Carlos the name of his enemy, told him that this intelligence might possibly have some influence on the judgment of the divines. The prince replied, that "his father was the person, and that he wished to have his life!"[1445] The prior calmly inquired, if any one was to aid him in the designs against his father. But Carlos only repeated his former declaration; and two hours after midnight the conclave broke up in unspeakable dismay. A messenger was despatched to the Escorial, where the king then was, to acquaint him with the whole affair.[1446]

Such is the report of the ayuda de camara, who says he was in attendance{468} on the prince that night. The authority is better for some parts of the story than for others. There is nothing very improbable in the supposition that Carlos—whose thoughts, as we have seen, lay very near the surface—should have talked, in the wild way reported of him, to his attendants. But that he should have repeated to others what had been drawn from him so cunningly by the prior, or that this appalling secret should have been whispered within earshot of the attendants, is difficult to believe. It matters little, however, since, whichever way we take the story, it savors so much of downright madness in the prince as in a manner to relieve him from moral responsibility.

By the middle of January, 1568, the prince's agent had returned, bringing with him a hundred and fifty thousand ducats. It was not more than a fourth of the amount he had demanded. But it answered for the present, and the remainder he proposed to have sent after him in bills of exchange.[1447] Having completed his preparations, he communicated his intentions to his uncle, Don John, and besought him to accompany him in his flight. But the latter, after fruitlessly expostulating with his kinsman on the folly of his proceeding, left Madrid for the Escorial, where he doubtless reported the affair to the king, his brother.

On the seventeenth, Carlos sent an order to Don Ramon de Tassis, the director-general of the posts, to have eight horses in readiness for him, that evening. Tassis, suspecting all was not right, returned an answer that the horses were out. On the prince repeating his orders in a more peremptory manner, the postmaster sent all the horses out, and proceeded himself in all haste to the Escorial.[1448]

The king was not long in taking his measures. Some days previous, "this very religious prince," says the papal nuncio, "according to his wont, had caused prayers to be put up, in the different monasteries, for the guidance of Heaven in an affair of great moment."[1449] Such prayers might have served as a warning to Carlos. But it was too late for warnings. Philip now proceeded, without loss of time, to Madrid, where those who beheld him in the audience-chamber, on the morning of the eighteenth, saw no sign of the coming storm in the serenity of his countenance.[1450] That morning, he attended mass in public, with the members of the royal family. After the services, Don John visited Carlos in his apartment, when the prince, shutting the doors, demanded of his uncle the subject of his conversation with the king at the Escorial. Don John evaded the questions as well as he could, till Carlos, heated by his suspicions, drew his sword, and attacked his uncle, who, retreating, with his back to the door, called loudly on the prince to desist, and threw himself into a posture of defence. The noise made by the{469} skirmish fortunately drew the notice of the attendants, who, rushing in, enabled Don John to retreat, and Carlos withdrew in sullen silence to his chamber.[1451]

The prince, it seems, had for some time felt himself insecure in his father's palace. He slept with as many precautions as a highwayman, with his sword and dagger by his side, and a loaded musket within reach, ready at any moment for action.[1452] For further security, he had caused an ingenious artisan to construct a bolt, in such a way that by means of pulleys he could fasten or unfasten the door of his chamber while in bed. With such precautions, it would be a perilous thing to invade the slumbers of a desperate man like Carlos. But Philip was aware of the difficulties; and he ordered the mechanic to derange the machinery so that it should not work: and thus the door was left without the usual means for securing it.[1453] The rest is told by the ayuda de camara above mentioned, who was on duty that night, and supped in the palace.

It was about eleven o'clock, on the evening of the eighteenth, when he observed the king coming down stairs, wearing armor over his clothes, and his head protected by a helmet. He was accompanied by the duke of Feria, captain of the guard, with four or five other lords, and twelve privates of the guard. The king ordered the valet to shut the door, and allow no one to enter. The nobles and the guard then passed into the prince's chamber; and the duke of Feria, stealing softly to the head of the bed, secured a sword and dagger which lay there, as well as a musket loaded with two balls. Carlos, roused by the noise, started up, and demanded who was there. The duke, having got possession of the weapons, replied, "It is the council of state." Carlos, on hearing this, leaped from his bed, and, uttering loud cries and menaces, endeavored to seize his arms. At this moment, Philip, who had prudently deferred his entrance till the weapons were mastered, came forward, and bade his son return to bed and remain quiet. The prince exclaimed, "What does your majesty want of me?" "You will soon learn," said his father, and at the same time ordered the windows and doors to be strongly secured, and the keys of the latter to be delivered to him. All the furniture of the room, with which Carlos could commit any violence, even the andirons, were removed.[1454] The king, then turning to Feria, told him that "he committed the prince to his especial charge, and that he must guard him well." Addressing next the other nobles, he directed them "to serve the prince with all proper respect, but to execute none of his orders without first reporting them to himself; finally, to guard him faithfully, under penalty of being held as traitors."

At these words Carlos exclaimed, "Your majesty had better kill me than keep me a prisoner. It will be a great scandal to the kingdom. If you do not kill me, I will make away with myself." "You will do no such thing," said the king; "for that would be the act of a madman." "Your majesty," replied Carlos, "treats me so ill that you force me to this extremity. I am{470} not mad, but you drive me to despair!"[1455] Other words passed between the monarch and his son, whose voice was so broken with sobs as to be scarcely audible.[1456]

Having completed his arrangements, Philip, after securing a coffer which contained the prince's papers, withdrew from the apartment. That night, the duke of Feria, the count of Lerma, and Don Rodrigo de Mendoza, eldest son of Ruy Gomez, remained in the prince's chamber. Two lords, out of six named for the purpose, performed the same duty in rotation each succeeding night. From respect to the prince, none of them were allowed to wear their swords in his presence. His meat was cut up before it was brought into his chamber, as he was allowed no knife at his meals. The prince's attendants were all dismissed, and most of them afterwards provided for in the service of the king. A guard of twelve halberdiers were stationed in the passages leading to the tower in which the apartment of Carlos was situated. Thus all communication from without was cut off; and, as he was unable to look from his strongly barricaded windows, the unhappy prisoner from that time remained as dead to the world as if he had been buried in the deepest dungeon of Simancas.

The following day, the king called the members of his different councils together, and informed them of the arrest of his son, declaring that nothing but his duty to God, and the welfare of the monarchy, could have moved him to such an act. The tears, according to one present, filled his eyes, as he made this avowal.[1457]

He then summoned his council of state, and commenced a process against the prisoner. His affliction did not prevent him from being present all the while, and listening to the testimony, which, when reduced to writing, formed a heap of paper half a foot in thickness.—Such is the account given of this extraordinary proceeding by the ayuda de camara.[1458]{471}

CHAPTER VII.

The arrest of Don Carlos caused a great sensation throughout the country, much increased by the mysterious circumstances which had attended it. The wildest rumors were afloat as to the cause. Some said the prince had meditated a design against his father's life; others, that he had conspired against that of Ruy Gomez. Some said that he was plotting rebellion, and had taken part with the Flemings; others suspected him of heresy. Many took still a different view of the matter,—censuring the father rather than the son. "His dagger followed close upon his smile," says the historian of Philip; "hence some called him wise, others severe."[1459] Carlos, they said, never a favorite, might have been rash in his thoughts and words; but he had done no act which should have led a father to deal with his son so harshly. But princes are too apt to be jealous of their successors. They distrusted the bold and generous spirit of their offspring, whom it would be wiser to win over by admitting them to some reasonable share in the government.—"But others there were," concludes the wise chronicler of the times, "who, more prudent than their neighbors, laid their finger on their lips, and were silent."[1460]

For some days, Philip would allow no post to leave Madrid, that he might be the first to send intelligence of this event to foreign courts.[1461] On the twenty-fourth, he despatched circular letters to the great ecclesiastics, the grandees, and the municipalities of the chief cities of the kingdom. They were vague in their import, stating the fact of the arrest, and assigning much the same general grounds with those he had stated to the councils. On the same day he sent despatches to the principal courts of Europe. These, though singularly vague and mysterious in their language, were more pregnant with suggestions, at least, than the letters to his subjects. The most curious, on the whole, and the one that gives the best insight into his motives, is the letter he addressed to his aunt, the queen of Portugal. She was sister to the emperor, his father,—an estimable lady, whom Philip had always held in great respect.

"Although," he writes, "it has long been obvious that it was necessary to take some order in regard to the prince, yet the feelings of a father have led me to resort to all other means before proceeding to extremity. But affairs have at length come to such a pass, that, to fulfil the duty which, as a Christian prince, I owe both to God and to my realm, I have been compelled{472} to place my son in strict confinement. Thus have I been willing to sacrifice to God my own flesh and blood, preferring his service and the welfare of my people to all human considerations.[1462] I will only add, that this determination has not been brought about by any misconduct on the part of my son, or by any want of respect to me; nor is this treatment of him intended by way of chastisement,—for that, however just the grounds of it, would have its time and its limit.[1463] Neither have I resorted to it as an expedient for reforming his disorderly life. The proceeding rests altogether on another foundation; and the remedy I propose is not one either of time or expedients, but is of the greatest moment, as I have already remarked, to satisfy my obligations to God and my people."[1464]

In the same obscure strain, Philip addressed Zuñiga, his ambassador at the papal court,—saying, that, "although the disobedience which Carlos had shown through life was sufficient to justify any demonstration of severity, yet it was not this, but the stern pressure of necessity, that could alone have driven him to deal in this way with his first-born, his only son."[1465]

This ambiguous language—implying that the imprisonment of Carlos was not occasioned by his own misconduct, and yet that both the interests of religion and the safety of the state demanded his perpetual imprisonment—may be thought to intimate that the cause referred to could be no other than insanity. This was plainly stated by the prince of Eboli, in a communication which, by the king's order, he made to the French minister, Fourquevaulx. The king, Gomez said, had for three years past perceived that the prince's head was the weakest part of him, and that he was, at no time, in complete possession of his understanding. He had been silent on the matter, trusting that time would bring some amendment. But it had only made things worse; and he saw, with sorrow, that to commit the sceptre to his son's hands would be to bring inevitable misery on his subjects and ruin on the state. With unspeakable anguish, he had therefore resolved, after long deliberation, to place his son under constraint.[1466]

This at least is intelligible, and very different from Philip's own despatches,—where it strikes us as strange, if insanity were the true ground of the arrest, that it should be covered up under such vague and equivocal language, with the declaration, moreover, usually made in his letters, that, "at some{473} future time, he would explain the matter more fully to the parties." One might have thought that the simple plea of insanity would have been directly given, as furnishing the best apology for the son, and at the same time vindicating the father for imposing a wholesome restraint upon his person. But, in point of fact, the excessive rigor of the confinement, as we shall have occasion to see, savored much more of the punishment dealt out to some high offender, than of the treatment of an unfortunate lunatic. Neither is it probable that a criminal process would have been instituted against one who, by his very infirmity, was absolved from all moral responsibility.

There are two documents, either of which, should it ever be brought to light, would probably unfold the true reasons of the arrest of Carlos. The Spanish ambassador, Zuñiga, informed Philip that the pope, dissatisfied with the account which he had given of the transaction, desired a further explanation of it from his majesty.[1467] This, from such a source, was nearly equivalent to a command. For Philip had a peculiar reverence for Pius the Fifth, the pope of the Inquisition, who was a pontiff after his own heart. The king is said never to have passed by the portrait of his holiness, which hung on the walls of the palace, without taking off his hat.[1468] He at once wrote a letter to the pope containing a full account of the transaction. It was written in cipher, with the recommendation that it should be submitted to Granvelle, then in Rome, if his holiness could not interpret it. This letter is doubtless in the Vatican.[1469]

The other document is the process. The king, immediately after the arrest of his son, appointed a special commission to try him. It consisted of Cardinal Espinosa, the prince of Eboli, and a royal councillor, Bribiesca de Muñatones, who was appointed to prepare the indictment. The writings containing the memorable process instituted by Philip's ancestor, John the Second of Aragon, against his amiable and unfortunate son, who also bore the name of Carlos, had been obtained from the Archives of Barcelona. They were translated from the Catalan into Castilian, and served for the ominous model for the present proceedings, which took the form of a trial for high treason. In conducting this singular prosecution, it does not appear that any counsel or evidence appeared on behalf of the prisoner, although a formidable amount of testimony, it would seem, was collected on the other side. But, in truth, we know little of the proceedings. There is no proof that any but the monarch, and the secret tribunal that presided over the trial,—if so it can be called,—ever saw the papers. In 1592, according to the historian Cabrera, they were deposited, by Philip's orders, in a green box, strongly secured, in the Archives of Simancas,[1470]—where, as we have no later information, they may still remain, to reward the labors of some future antiquary.[1471]{474}

In default of these documents, we must resort to conjecture for the solution of this difficult problem; and there are several circumstances which may assist us in arriving at a conclusion. Among the foreign ministers at that time at the court of Madrid, none took more pains to come at the truth of this affair,—as his letters abundantly prove,—than the papal nuncio, Castaneo, archbishop of Rossano. He was a shrewd, sagacious prelate, whose position and credit at the court gave him the best opportunities for information. By Philip's command, Cardinal Espinosa gave the nuncio the usual explanation of the grounds on which Carlos had been arrested. "It is a strange story," said the nuncio, "that which we everywhere hear, of the prince's plot against his father's life." "It would be of little moment," replied the cardinal, "if the danger to the king were all; as it would be easy to protect his person. But the present case is worse,—if worse can be; and the king, who has seen the bad course which his son has taken for these two years past, has vainly tried to remedy it; till, finding himself unable to exercise any control over the hair-brained young man, he has been forced to this expedient."[1472]

Now, in the judgment of a grand-inquisitor, it would probably be thought that heresy, or any leaning to heresy, was a crime of even a deeper dye than parricide. The cardinal's discourse made this impression on the nuncio, who straightway began to cast about for proofs of apostasy in Don Carlos. The Tuscan minister also notices, in his letters, the suspicions that Carlos was not a good Catholic.[1473] A confirmation of this view of the matter may be gathered from the remarks of Pius the Fifth on Philip's letter in cipher, above noticed. "His holiness," writes the Spanish ambassador, "greatly lauds the course taken by your majesty; for he feels that the preservation of Christianity depends on your living many years, and on your having a successor who will tread in your footsteps."[1474]

But though all this seems to intimate pretty clearly that the religious defection of Carlos was a predominant motive for his imprisonment, it is not easy to believe that a person of his wayward and volatile mind could have formed any settled opinions in matters of faith, or that his position would have allowed the Reformers such access to his person as to have greatly exposed him to the influence of their doctrines. Yet it is quite possible that he may have taken an interest in those political movements abroad, which, in the end, were directed against the Church. I allude to the troubles in the Low Countries, which he is said to have looked upon with no unfriendly eye. It is true, there is no proof of this, so far as I am aware, in the correspondence of the Flemish leaders. Nor is there any reason to suppose that Carlos{475} entered directly into a correspondence with them himself, or indeed committed himself by any overt act in support of the cause.[1475] But this was not necessary for his condemnation; it would have been quite enough, that he had felt a sympathy for the distresses of the people. From the residence of Egmont, Bergen, and Montigny at the court, he had obvious means of communication with those nobles, who may naturally have sought to interest him in behalf of their countrymen. The sympathy readily kindled in the ardent bosom of the young prince would be as readily expressed. That he did feel such a sympathy may perhaps be inferred by his strange conduct to Alva, on the eve of his departure for the Netherlands. But the people of that country were regarded at Madrid as in actual rebellion against the crown. The reformed doctrines which they avowed gave to the movement the character of a religious revolution. For a Spaniard to countenance it in any way was at once to prove himself false both to his sovereign and his faith. In such a light, we may be quite sure, it would be viewed both by Philip and his minister, the grand-inquisitor. Nor would it be thought any palliation of the crime, that the offender was heir to the monarchy.[1476]

As to a design on his father's life, Philip, both in his foreign despatches and in the communications made by his order to the resident ministers at Madrid, wholly acquitted Carlos of so horrible a charge.[1477] If it had any foundation in truth, one might suppose that Philip, instead of denying, would have paraded it, as furnishing an obvious apology for subjecting him to so rigorous a confinement. It is certain, if Carlos had really entertained so monstrous a design, he might easily have found an opportunity to execute it. That Philip would have been silent in respect to his son's sympathy with the Netherlands may well be believed. The great champion of Catholicism would naturally shrink from publishing to the world that the taint of heresy infected his own blood.

But, whatever may have been the motives which determined the conduct of Philip, one cannot but suspect that a deep-rooted aversion to his son lay at the bottom of them. The dissimilarity of their natures placed the two parties, from the first, in false relations to each other. The heedless excesses of youth were regarded with a pitiless eye by the parent, who, in his own indulgences, at least did not throw aside the veil of decorum. The fiery temper of Carlos, irritated by a long-continued system of distrust, exclusion, and espionnage, at length broke out into such senseless extravagances as belong to the debatable ground of insanity. And this ground afforded, as already intimated, a plausible footing to the father for proceeding to extremities against the son.

Whatever were the offences of Carlos, those who had the best opportunities for observation soon became satisfied that it was intended never to allow him{476} to regain his liberty, or to ascend the throne of his ancestors.[1478] On the second of March, a code of regulations was prepared by Philip relative to the treatment of the prince, which may give some idea of the rigor of his confinement. He was given in especial charge to Ruy Gomez, who was placed at the head of the establishment; and it was from him that every person employed about Carlos was to receive his commission. Six other nobles were appointed both to guard the prince and render him service. Two of the number were to remain in his apartment every night,—the one watching, while the other slept; reminding us of an ingenious punishment among the Chinese, where a criminal is obliged to be everywhere followed by an attendant, whose business it is to keep an unceasing watch upon the offender, that, wherever he turns, he may still find the same eye riveted upon him!

During the day, it was the duty of these nobles to remain with Carlos and lighten by their conversation the gloom of his captivity. But they were not to talk on matters relating to the government, above all to the prince's imprisonment, on which topic, if he addressed them, they were to remain obdurately silent. They were to bring no messages to him, and bear none from him to the world without; and they were to maintain inviolable secrecy in regard to all that passed within the walls of the palace, unless when otherwise permitted by the king. Carlos was provided with a breviary and some other books of devotion; and no works except those of a devotional character were to be allowed him.[1479]—This last regulation seems to intimate the existence of certain heretical tendencies in Carlos, which it was necessary to counteract by books of an opposite character,—unless it might be considered as an ominous preparation for his approaching end. Besides the six nobles, no one was allowed to enter the apartment but the prince's physician, his barbero, or gentleman of the chamber, and his valet. The last was taken from the monteros, or body-guard of the king.[1480] There were seven others of this faithful corps who were attached to the establishment, and whose duty it was to bring the dishes for his table to an outer hall, whence they were taken by the montero in waiting to the prince's chamber. A guard of twelve halberdiers was also stationed in the passages leading to the apartment, to intercept all communication from without. Every person employed in the service, from the highest noble to the meanest official, made solemn oath, before the prince of Eboli, to conform to the regulations. On this nobleman rested the whole responsibility of enforcing obedience to the rules, and of providing for the security of Carlos. The better to effect this, he was commanded to remove to the palace, where apartments were assigned to him and the princess his wife, adjoining those of his prisoner. The arrangement may have been commended by other considerations to Philip, whose intimacy with the princess I shall have occasion to notice hereafter.[1481]

{477}

The regulations, severe as they were, were executed to the letter. Philip's aunt, the queen of Portugal, wrote in earnest terms to the king, kindly offering herself to remain with her grandson in his confinement, and take charge of him like a mother in his affliction.[1482] "But they were very willing," writes the French minister, "to spare her the trouble."[1483] The emperor and empress wrote to express the hope that the confinement of Carlos would work an amendment in his conduct, and that he would soon be liberated. Several letters passed between the courts, until Philip closed the correspondence by declaring that his son's marriage with the princess Anne could never take place, and that he would never be liberated.[1484]

Philip's queen, Isabella, and his sister Joanna, who seem to have been deeply afflicted by the course taken with the prince, made ineffectual attempts to be allowed to visit him in his confinement; and when Don John of Austria came to the palace dressed in a mourning suit, to testify his grief on the occasion, Philip coldly rebuked his brother, and ordered him to change his mourning for his ordinary dress.[1485]

Several of the great towns were prepared to send their delegates to condole with the monarch under his affliction. But Philip gave them to understand, that he had only acted for the good of the nation, and that their condolence on the occasion would be superfluous.[1486] When the deputies of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia were on their way to court, with instructions to inquire into the cause of the prince's imprisonment, and to urge his speedy liberation, they received, on the way, so decided an intimation of the royal displeasure, that they thought it prudent to turn back, without venturing to enter the capital.[1487]

In short, it soon came to be understood, that the affair of Don Carlos was{478} a subject not to be talked about. By degrees, it seemed to pass out of men's minds, like a thing of ordinary occurrence. "There is as little said now on the subject of the prince," writes the French ambassador, Fourquevaulx, "as if he had been dead these ten years."[1488] His name, indeed, still kept its place, among those of the royal family, in the prayers said in the churches. But the king prohibited the clergy from alluding to Carlos in their discourses. Nor did any one venture, says the same authority, to criticize the conduct of the king. "So complete is the ascendancy which Philip's wisdom has given him over his subjects, that, willing or unwilling, all promptly obey him: and if they do not love him, they at least appear to do so."[1489]

Among the articles removed from the prince's chamber was a coffer, as the reader may remember, containing his private papers. Among these were a number of letters intended for distribution after his departure from the country. One was addressed to his father, in which Carlos avowed that the cause of his flight was the harsh treatment he had received from the king.[1490] Other letters, addressed to different nobles, and to some of the great towns, made a similar statement; and, after reminding them of the oath they had taken to him as successor to the crown, he promised to grant them various immunities when the sceptre should come into his hands.[1491] With these papers was also found one of most singular import. It contained a list of all those persons whom he deemed friendly, or inimical to himself. At the head of the former class stood the names of his step-mother, Isabella, and of his uncle Don John of Austria,—both of them noticed in terms of the warmest affection. On the catalogue of his enemies, "to be pursued to the death," were the names of the king, his father, the prince and princess of Eboli, Cardinal Espinosa, the duke of Alva, and others.[1492]—Such is the strange account of the contents of the coffer given to his court by the papal nuncio. These papers, we are told, were submitted to the judges who conducted the process, and formed, doubtless, an important part of the testimony against the prince. It may have been from one of the parties concerned that the nuncio gathered his information. Yet no member of that tribunal would have ventured to disclose its secrets without authority from Philip; who may possibly have consented to the publication of facts that would serve to vindicate his course. If these facts are faithfully reported, they must be allowed to furnish some evidence of a disordered mind in Carlos.