Provided with this unlimited pledge, the Prince and Buckingham, assisted by Bristol, Aston, and Cottington, met a commission appointed by Philip. For weeks the discussions continued. In vain the English pointed out the impossibility of acceding to the demands that religious toleration in England should be decreed forthwith, and that the consent of the English Parliament should be obtained within a year or so for the abrogation of all the penal laws against English Catholics, with the many other points which were now insisted upon by the Pope for the first time. The Pope had even written a letter direct to Charles, urging his immediate conversion; and Charles had further compromised himself by answering it in a way which, although vague, would have caused, if it had been known, intense indignation in England. As the English negotiators advanced, Olivares retired, whilst Buckingham became daily more impatient and angry, throwing the blame now entirely upon the Count-Duke.[19]
At length, at the end of May, Buckingham came to an open quarrel with Olivares, and threatened to leave with the Prince at once and abandon the negotiation. This angry departure did not suit the Spaniards; and, after much protest and entreaty on the part of Philip and Olivares, it was agreed that the Prince should stay in Madrid at least until King James was made acquainted with the point insisted upon, and sent his instructions; although, after having consented to remain, Charles, seeing the persistent attempts to put pressure upon him to marry at once on the Pope's conditions, endeavoured to withdraw his promise altogether and retire. Eventually, however, the cajolery of Olivares prevailed, and Cottington went off post haste to England, carrying with him the details of the Spanish papal demands. In the letter written by Charles and Buckingham to James, and taken by Cottington, they still express a hope that he may accede to the terms, though they dared not do so themselves without his consent.
"Dear Dad and Gossip," this letter runs, "the Pope having written a courteous letter to me, your Baby, I have been bold to write to him an answer.... We make no doubt but to have the opinions of the busy divines reversed (for already the Count of Olivares hath put out ten of the worst), so that your Majesty will be pleased to begin to put in execution the favour towards your Roman Catholic subjects, and ye will be bound by your oath as soon as the Infanta comes over, which we hope you will do for the hastening of us home, with this protestation to reverse all, if there be any delay in the marriage. We send you here the articles as they are to go, the oaths, public and private, that you and your Baby are to take, with the councils, wherein if you scare at the least clause of your private oath (where you promise that the Parliament shall revoke all penal laws against the Papists within three years), we thought good to tell your Majesty our opinion, which is that if you think you may do it in that time (which we think you may if you do your best), although it take not effect, you have not broken your word, for this promise is only security that you will do your best. The Spanish ambassador for respect of the Pope will present to you the articles as they came from Rome, as likewise to require that the delivery of the Infanta may be deferred till the spring.... We both humbly beg of your Majesty that you will confirm these articles soon, and press earnestly for our speedy return."[20]
King James was in despair when he received this letter and Cottington's intelligence. Olivares had cleverly turned the whole negotiation on the acceptance by the English of the religious demands, and had remained quite unpledged as to the restoration of the Palatinate, which was the thing nearest to James' heart. The reply of the King is too characteristic for compression, and is here reproduced entire.
"My sweet Boys, your letter by Cottington hath strucken me dead! I fear it shall very much shorten my days, and I am more perplexed that I know not how to satisfy the people's expectation here; neither know I what to say to our Council, for the fleet that staid upon a wind this fortnight. Rutland and all abroad must now be staid, and I know not what reason I shall pretend for doing it. But as for my advice and directions that ye crave in case they will not alter their decree, it is, in a word, to come speedily away, if ye can get leave, and give over all treaty. And this I speak without respect of any security they may offer, except ye never look to see your old Dad again, whom I fear ye shall never see if ye see him not before winter. Alas! I now repent me sore that ever I suffered you to go away. I care for match, nor nothing, so I may once have you in my arms again. God grant it! God grant it! God grant it! Amen, amen, amen! I protest ye shall be as heartily welcome as if ye had done all things ye went for, so that I may once more have you in my arms again, and God bless you both, my sweet son and my only best sweet servant, and let me hear from you quickly with all speed as ye love my life; and so God send you a happy, joyful meeting in the arms of your dear Dad.—
JAMES R.
GREENWICH, 14 June 1623."
The poor King was nearer to his difficulties than was Buckingham, for Archbishop Abbott and the English Puritan divines were becoming clamorous at all this coquetting with the Scarlet Lady, and to have conceded openly a half of the papal demands as payment for the Spanish match would have meant a revolution in England. In the meanwhile Charles and Buckingham continued their struggle to get the conditions modified; whilst Olivares, supported by his theologians, still insisted that the marriage might be celebrated conditionally in Madrid, to be confirmed at some future time when the measures in favour of the English Catholics had been put into operation.
The events of the next few weeks are related by the Spanish authority,[21] very differently from the version given by the Prince and Buckingham to King James. The Spaniards aver that Charles' counter-proposals and amendments were considered exhaustively by the various commissions, and unhesitatingly rejected, the Prince, in his final interview with Olivares on the subject, when the answer was given to him, signifying his intention to return to England at once, and requesting an audience to take leave of the King. The Prince is represented by the Spaniards to have asked Bristol to draw up for him a valedictory address which he might read to Philip, but when Lord Bristol submitted his draft the Prince expressed dissatisfaction with it, and said that he would trust to the inspiration of the moment and take leave of the King in his own words. The leave-taking was fixed for the 17th July, in the evening, and when Charles, with Buckingham and the whole of his train, were in the presence of Philip, to the intense astonishment and dismay of Bristol, the Prince expressed his intention of accepting the conditions laid down by the Spaniards with regard to religion, and said that he would, in his father's name, give due security for their fulfilment. Couriers were sent post haste to Rome to obtain the Pope's final consent to the slightly modified conditions accepted by Charles; and for a time the Spanish Court ostensibly regarded the marriage as irrevocably fixed.
This is the story as told by the Spaniards, and it is probably not far from the truth; but in the letters to King James[22] the Prince and Buckingham naturally represent the conditions they accepted as being an important modification of the previous Spanish demands, which, so far as can be seen, they were not. On the very day when the reconsidered conditions were first handed to Charles, and, according to the Spanish story, rejected, he and Buckingham wrote to King James. (26th June-6th July.)
"DEAR DAD AND GOSSIP,—Though late, yet at last we have gotten the articles drawn up in the forms we sent you by Lord Rochford, without any new addition or alteration. The foolery of the Conde de Olivares hath been the cause of this long delay, who would willingly against thee have pulled it out of the junta's and Council's hands and put it into a wrangling lawyer's, a favourite of his, who, like himself, had not only put it into odious form, but had slipped in a multitude of new unreasonable, undemanded, and ungranted conditions, which the Council yielded unto merely out of fear; for when we met the junta they did not make one answer to our many objections, but confessed with blushing faces that we had more than reason on our side; and concluded with us that the same oath should serve which passed between Queen Mary and King Philip (II.) being put to the end of every article which is to be sworn to. By this you may guess the little favour with which they proceed with us, first delaying us as long as they possibly can, then, when things are concluded, they throw in new particulars in hope that they will pass, out of our desire to make haste. But when our business is done we shall joy in it the more that we have overcome so many difficulties, and in the meantime we expect pity at your hands. But for the love of God and our business let nothing fall from you to discover anything of this, and comfort yourself that all will end well to your contentment and honour. Our return now will depend upon your quick despatch of these, for we thank God we find the heats such here that we may well travel both evenings and mornings. The divines have not yet recalled their sentence, but the Conde tells us that he hath converted very many of them, yet keeps his old form in giving us no hope of anything till the business speaks it itself. But we dare say they dare not break it upon this, nor, we think, upon any other, except the affairs of Christendom should smile strangely upon them."
How completely Olivares had outwitted them is plain by this letter. He still insisted verbally upon the whole of the pretensions originally formulated, but had by subtle hints led them into the self-deceiving condition displayed by their fatuous words in the letter just quoted.
A few hours only after the above letter was written, the courier Crofts arrived in Madrid with King James' peremptory order for his son to return, printed on page 109. With this order in their hands, Charles and Buckingham thought to bring matters to a crisis, and, as they say, told Olivares with a sad face that the King of England had ordered them to return immediately. How, they asked him, could they obey the command without sacrificing the marriage?
"His answer was that there were two good ways to do the business and one ill one. The two good ones were either with your Baby's conversion, or to do it with trust, putting all things freely with the Infanta into our hands. The ill one was to bargain and stick upon conditions as long as they could. As for the first (i.e. conversion) we had utterly rejected it; and, for the second, he confessed that if he were King he would do it; and, as he is, it lay in his power to do it: but he cast many doubts, lest he should hereafter suffer for it if it should not succeed. The last he confessed impossible, since your command was so peremptory. To conclude, he left us with a promise to consider it; and when I, your dog (i.e. Buckingham) conveyed him to the door, he bade me cheer up my heart, and your Baby's, both. Our opinion is the longest time we can stay here is a month, and not that neither without bringing the Infanta with us. If we find ourselves sure of that, look for us sooner. Whichever of these resolutions be taken, you shall hear from us shortly, that you may in that time give order for the fleet. We must once more entreat your Majesty to make all the haste you can to return those papers confirmed, and in the meantime give order for the execution of all these things (i.e. the abrogation of all penal enactments against Catholics, and the granting of religious toleration, etc.), and let us here know so much."[23]
The next night Charles sent for Olivares, and asked him what advice he had to give him. The matter was still under discussion, replied the minister; and two or three days more would have to be given before King Philip could send his final decision. Charles and Buckingham demurred at further delay, and again talked of immediate departure; but, as usual, Olivares hinted and implied much, whilst he pledged himself to nothing, and when he returned he left "Baby" and "Steenie" once more in a fool's paradise of confident hope. From day to day they were thus kept; Olivares hinting that as soon as news came that King James had given liberty to English Catholics, all obstacles would be removed, and the Infanta might accompany her bridegroom to England. Charles and his adviser begged James urgently and often to fulfil their promises in this respect without delay; for, said they, they were convinced that Olivares would stand out no longer when the news came.
"We know you will think a little more time will be well spent to bring her with us, when by that means we may upon equaller terms treat with them of other things. Do your best there (i.e. in England), and we will not fail of ours here.... Of all this we must entreat you to speak nothing; for if you do our labour here will be the harder, and when it shall be hoped there and not take effect they will be the more discontented.[24] I, your Baby, have, since this conclusion, been with my mistress, and she sits publicly with me at the plays, and within these two or three days shall take place of the Queen as Princess of England."
James in London was sorely perplexed, for the Marquis of Hinojosa and Carlos Coloma, the Spanish ambassadors, were pressing him still more to make the concessions to the English Catholics thorough and irrevocable; whilst the Council, even Buckingham's sycophantic creatures, Conway and Calvert, the Secretaries of State, were ill at ease. But the step had to be taken, and James, with many prickings of conscience, or more worldly fears, summoned his Council at Whitehall on Sunday the 20th July, and, after feasting the two Spanish ambassadors, the King of England took an oath before them and a Catholic priest, with Cottington and the two Secretaries of State only in attendance, to comply with all the conditions of the marriage which had been accepted in Madrid, the English Catholics being given immediate and complete toleration.[25] This ceremony in the palace of Whitehall having come to an end, King James was entering his coach to go to the Spanish embassy, and take a secret oath there to obtain within a given time the abrogation by Parliament of all the penal laws, when, as he says, Lord Andover, travel-stained with his long rapid journey from Madrid, "came stepping in the door like a ghost," and delivered the letter from Charles and Buckingham, saying that the Spaniards were insisting upon deferring the departure of the Infanta until the spring, to give time for the reception of the Pope's consent to the modified conditions, and for the full execution of the decrees, relieving the English Catholics from their disabilities.
Charles outwitted
Poor James must have seen now clearly that he had been outwitted. He was pledged, pledged up to the hilt. He had just solemnly sworn to accept all the Spanish conditions. His son was still in the hands of Spain; no promise whatever binding Spain had been given for the return of the Palatinate to Frederick; and now the gage that he and his shallow favourite had thought would guarantee their demands upon Spain was not to be delivered until next spring, which might mean never!
"This course is both a dishonour to me and double charges, if I must send two fleets. But if they will not send her till March, then let them, in God's name, send her by their own fleet, ... but if no better may be, do ye hasten your business: the fleet shall be at you as soon as wind and weather can serve, and this bearer (i.e. Cottington) will bring you the power to treat for the Palatinate, and in the matter of Holland. And, sweet Baby, go on with the contract, and the best assurance ye can get of sending her next year. But, upon my blessing, lie not with her in Spain, except ye be sure to bring her with you; and forget not to make them keep their former conditions anent the portion (i.e. dowry), otherwise both my Baby and I are bankrupt for ever."
Cottington lost no time; and by the 5th (15th N.S.) August was back again in Madrid with the news of the King of England's compliance on oath with the Spanish conditions. Again the divines, at Olivares' bidding, began wrangling over the form and substance of James' oath; for Hinojosa, the Spanish ambassador in England, had reported unfavourably upon the real intentions of James towards the Catholics, and three weeks more passed before the whole marriage treaty was embodied in a formal document, which Charles, on the 28th August (7th September), swore solemnly on the Gospels in the hands of the Patriarch of the Indies to fulfil, whilst Philip simply promised that the marriage should take place when the Pope's consent arrived, in which case the Infanta should be sent to England in the following spring. It was indeed a triumph for the diplomacy of Olivares, and Charles endeavoured to save appearances by asking, now that it was too late, for some assurance that the Pope's consent would be given by Christmas and the marriage solemnised. Philip was all smiles. Nothing would delight him better; but, as it was a case of conscience, the theologians must decide. When they met to do so they raked up many stories, old and new, to show that Englishmen could not be trusted further than you could see them in matters of religion, and decided that all of King James's promises to the Catholics must come into actual effect before any further step could be taken by Philip. Cottington, it appears, had fallen ill with the fatigue of his rapid journey; and, in the belief that he was dying, sent for a priest and confessed himself a Catholic, yet as soon as the fit passed off and he recovered he withdrew his professions, and this was cited as a proof of the falsity of Englishmen. The story, already quoted from Howel, of Varney's coming to fisticuffs with the English priest Ballard was made the most of. Besides, said they, a gentleman of King Philip's chamber only the other day had seen on a sideboard in Prince Charles's apartment, in the palace of the Catholic King himself, "a Protestant catechism in which all the heresies and errors are taught, translated into Spanish and richly and curiously bound." This was really too shocking, and the divines decided that Charles was not to be trusted an inch beyond the conventions already made.
A hollow betrothal
In vain a grander bull-fight than ever was given to celebrate the so-called betrothal, in which Charles cut a gallant figure in white satin, and in which, amidst a mad prodigality of splendour, three-and-twenty bulls were done to death by nobles;[26] in vain feasts[27] and banquets hailed Charles as the husband of a Spanish Princess, and the future restorer of England to the Catholic faith; both Charles and Buckingham now saw that they had been fooled, and were only anxious to get away with a good face and such dignity as they might. Olivares personally still pretended to be eager for the match, and feigned a desire to send the Infanta with the Prince, "to turn them all out of Spain together, as he said jocosely"; but Buckingham now profoundly distrusted him—and, indeed, told him at this juncture that he would always be his enemy—and was determined that the Prince should not be further pledged to the marriage, unless the Infanta accompanied them to England. "Send us peremptory commands to come away, with all possible speed," they wrote to King James; "we desire this, not that we fear we shall need it, but in case we have, that your son, who hath expressed much affection to the Infanta, may press his coming away under colour of your command without appearing an ill lover."
The love romance, in good truth, was at an end, and the foolish adventure had resulted in one side being pledged to a course that threatened the stability of England, whilst the other was bound to nothing whatever, since the Pope's consent would be given or withheld as Spain desired. Worst blow of all to King James was the contemptuous treatment of his demands about the Palatinate. "As for the business of the Palatinate," wrote Charles to his father, "now that we have pressed them we have discovered these two impediments: first, they say they have no hope to accommodate it without the marriage of your grandchild with the Emperor's daughter, ... to be brought up in the Emperor's Court; and the second is, that though they will restore his lands (to the Palatine) they will not restore his honour." It was, indeed, time that Charles was gone, for the sorry part he and Buckingham had played in Madrid, and their long absence, had provoked serious discontent in England; and even Archy Armstrong in Madrid, with his fool's privilege, goaded Buckingham with taunts and sneers, until the enraged favourite threatened that he would have him hanged. "No one ever heard of a fool being hanged for talking," retorted Archy, "but many Dukes in England have been hanged for insolence."[28]
On the 29th August (8th September, N.S.), Charles was conducted in state by Philip to take his leave of the Queen and the Infanta, to whom he made all manner of professions and promises. Buckingham on this occasion did not accompany the Prince, being desirous, as the Spaniards said, of having a separate honour for himself; but even whilst this ostentatious ceremony was being used towards him, a secret paper was being drafted by skilful hands and brains in Madrid that was destined to precede him and the Prince to London, and to set before King James the long tale of Buckingham's transgressions and omissions whilst in Spain, his violence, his rudeness, his lack of diplomacy, his inexpertness in affairs, his pride and insolence. The Spaniards, indeed, had determined to make Buckingham the scapegoat as an additional security for themselves, and they, or rather Olivares, thus laid the foundation of the spoilt favourite's ruin.
Splendid presents were given on both sides: Philip sending to his guest four-and-twenty Spanish and Arab horses and six mares, twenty hackneys in velvet housings, fringed and embroidered with gold, two pairs of fine Spanish asses for the stud, a dagger, a sword, and a pistol, all richly encrusted with diamonds, eighty muskets and eighty crossbows and a hundred of the best swords in Spain; whilst Charles, in return for this, apart from his gifts to the King, gave to the bearer of his presents a great diamond jewel. Buckingham also received from the King a fine stud of horses and mares, with arms and jewels of immense value.[29] The Queen's present to Charles consisted of an enormous quantity of linen under-garments of great fineness, worked by the discalced nuns, fifty dressed and perfumed skins, and two hundred and fifty scented glove skins of great rarity and value; whilst Olivares, knowing Charles' artistic tastes and the interest he had taken in the fine pictures in the palace, presented him with many beautiful paintings, some chamber hangings, and three Sedan chairs, fit, as Soto says, for the greatest king on earth; one entirely of tortoiseshell and gold, these chairs being for the use in London of King James, the Prince of Wales, and Buckingham respectively. All the principal courtiers came with similar gifts; but when, with many false tears on both sides, Charles went to the Convent of the Discalced Carmelites to take a last private farewell of his betrothed, she gave him, amongst many rich and beautiful toys, perfumes, and the like, a letter from which she said she hoped great things would come. It was addressed to a saintly nun at Carrion, which lay in his road towards the sea, and the Infanta prayed that he would visit and confer with the holy woman for the good of his soul.[30] She made Charles promise her, moreover, that he would have a care for the Catholics of England, for any one of whom, she said, she would lay down her life.
Charles was as lavish in his gifts as were his hosts, jewels of inestimable value being given to the King and Queen, and, indeed, to everybody, apparently, with whom the Prince had been brought into contact at the Spanish Court. The Infanta received from her lover a string of two hundred and fifty great perfect pearls, with similar pearls for the ears and breast, and a diamond ornament so precious "that no one dared to estimate its value."[31] Amongst the shower of jewels that fell upon the Spanish courtiers, that which came to Olivares seems to have been one of the most precious. It was the great "Portuguese" diamond of purest water, that once had been the pride of the crown jewels of Portugal, and had been brought to England by the pretender Don Antonio, who, whilst his jewels lasted, had found so warm a welcome in the Court of Elizabeth.
At dawn on Saturday, 30th August, King Philip and his brother Carlos, with their English guest, and followed by hundreds of gallant gentlemen, rode across the bridge of Segovia out of the Castilian capital, over the arid plain towards the vast monastery palace of the Escorial in the Guadarramas, the enduring gloomy monument of the first of the Spanish Philips. The next day was spent in seeing the wonders of the building, and on Monday hunting in the woods and moors around occupied the day. On Tuesday morning, 3rd September, the party set forth, and a few miles on the road the King, after an alfresco luncheon and a long private conversation with his guest, took final leave of Charles, with much ceremonial salutation and professions of eternal regard. That night the English Prince, in whose coach travelled Buckingham, Bristol, and Gondomar, arrived at the village of Guadarrama, and the next night was spent at the ancient city of Segovia.
Charles had left in Bristol's hands a power to conclude the marriage on the arrival in Madrid of the consent of the Pope to the modified conditions; but at Segovia he signed two letters, one to King Philip reiterating his intention and desire to carry the match through, and the other revoking the full powers he had given to Bristol to conclude the espousals when the Pope's consent arrived, on the ground that there was nothing in the conventions to prevent the Infanta from embracing a conventual life after the marriage.[32] With Charles's slow progress through Spain to Santander[33], and so to England, this book has naught to do, nor with the extraordinary set of intrigues by which, to Bristol's indignation and subsequent ruin, Buckingham on his return drew the pliant James into alliance with France against Spain.
Bristol, during his short further stay in Madrid, laboured hard, aided by Gondomar, to keep the negotiations afoot, the Spanish party in the English Court endeavoured with the same object to arouse the fears of James against Buckingham, and nearly succeeded in doing it. Bristol's colleague and successor at Madrid, Sir Walter Aston, hoping to smooth matters, incurred Buckingham's violent resentment by provisionally agreeing to a day for the espousals, when at last the Pope's conditional consent came. James, and now apparently Charles, had quite made up their minds that no marriage should take place without the Palatinate being surrendered by the Emperor; and Philip, as Olivares had said again and again, would never coerce his Catholic kinsman to do that for the sake of a heretic. Thenceforward though the bickering both in Madrid and London still continued for months, the marriage of Charles and the Infanta was impracticable, and the unwise attempt to force the hands of cunning statesmen by a romantic coup de théâtre came to the undignified and unsuccessful end that it deserved.
Failure of the match
The Spaniards pretended that the match would have been carried through but for Buckingham's bad faith and his personal quarrel with Olivares, and they found it convenient to defend their own character for sincerity by using the favourite for a scapegoat. But it is quite certain now, with the abundant authoritative documents before us, that, except upon quite impossible conditions, there never was any intention on the part of Philip and Olivares to give the Infanta to Charles. Olivares played the game with consummate skill, obtaining concessions to the English Catholics, which, if they had been sincerely carried out, would have endangered James's crown; and presenting to Europe the spectacle of the English King and Prince soliciting an alliance with Spain in a way which allowed such a rebuff to be administered to England as might have made the great Elizabeth turn in her grave.
That Buckingham was keenly alive to his defeat, and was determined to avenge it upon Spain, is seen in his letter to James as soon as he left Madrid,[34] and by the strenuous and successful efforts which he made on his return to London to defeat the Spanish party, to which he had, thanks to Gondomar's bribery, formerly belonged. The subsequent ignominious war with Spain into which England was dragged by Buckingham and the French alliance, was a fitting sequel, in its inept mismanagement, to the utter foolishness of the policy which had precipitated it. The comparison between the incompetence of Sir Edward Cecil with his disorganised and futile fleet before Cadiz in 1625, and the English attack upon the same city in 1596 under Howard, Raleigh, and Essex, is as complete and humiliating as the contrast between shallow Buckingham and sagacious Burghley, or between the doting poltroon whose letters to his "sweet Boys" we have seen, and the proudly patriotic termagant whom he succeeded on the throne of England.
[1] Soto y Aguilar. Another unpublished contemporary account in Spanish of the state entry in the British Museum, MSS. Add. 10,236, says that Charles advanced to the centre of the room and took off his hat as the councillors entered. It is mentioned that Charles retained his English dress and had "a gallant figure" (bizarro en el talle). He was noticed to doff his hat whenever Philip did on passing a church or sacred image, and this greatly impressed the crowd in his favour. When the royal personages arrived at the palace at half-past six, having taken three hours to cover the distance of about a mile from St. Geronimo to the palace, the Prince was led to salute the Queen, Lord Bristol kneeling before them to interpret their conversation. This account is very enthusiastic as to Charles' graciousness and dignity.
[2] MS. Soto y Aguilar.
[3] Familiar Letters.
[4] MS. Royal Academy of History, Madrid. Transcript in my possession. The writer, in this official capacity, was present at all these feasts.
[5] MS. Soto y Aguilar.
[6] Charles really seems to have fallen in love with her. Howel writes in July. "There are comedians once a week come to the palace, where, under a great canopy the Queen and the Infanta sit in the middle and our Prince and Don Carlos on the Queen's right hand, and the little Cardinal on the Infanta's left hand. I have seen the Prince have his eyes immovably fixed upon the Infanta half an hour together in a thoughtful speculative posture, which sure would needs be tedious unless affection did sweeten it. It was no handsome comparison of Olivares that he watched her as a cat doth a mouse." Endymion Porter, writing to his wife soon after the Prince's arrival in Spain, says: "The Prince hath taken such a liking to his mistress that now he loves her as much for her beauty as he can for being sister to so great a King. She deserves it, for never was there a fairer creature." State Papers, Domestic, March 1623.
[7] Hardwicke, State Papers.
[8] From a somewhat ungenerous letter from Charles to Bristol (who was made the scapegoat), written on the 21st January 1625, he says: "you will remember how at our first coming into Spain, when taking upon you to be so wise as to foresee our intention to change our religion, you were so far from dissuading us that you offered your services and secrecy to concur in it; and in many other open conferences pressing to show how convenient it was for us to be Roman Catholic, it being impossible in your opinion to do any great action otherwise." The letter is full of reproaches and condemnation of Bristol's conduct, but it is quite clear that Bristol saw the only condition under which the match was possible from the first, which Charles and Buckingham, deceived by Olivares, did not. Cabala (ed. 1691) p. 188.
[9] Hecho de los Tratados. Camden Society.
[10] Carey, Earl of Monmouth, Guerre d' Italia.
[11] Lord Bristol's diary, MS. in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh, gives a minute account of the Prince's movements from day to day.
[12] Soto y Aguilar gives a glowing and pompous account of this festivity, which, according to him, was a cane tournament and competition of horsemanship got up in honour of Charles by the Admiral of Castile. Charles is described as being dressed in black satin, with the blue ribbon and jewel of the Garter on his breast, the simplicity of his garb being praised as being very distinguished in appearance, as it may well have been amidst so gorgeous a crowd as that described by Soto. It should be noted, however, that Philip himself rarely dressed in bright colours, though his red doublet in the Dulwich College picture is splendid enough, his favourite colour being brown with steel or silver trimmings. On this occasion he is described as being dressed in this way, with a chain consisting of four linked jewelled crowns on his breast.
[13] Familiar Letters. Several references are made in Spanish documents of Archy's insolence whilst in Madrid, though that was no new thing in Philip's Court, where the buffoons were numerous.
[14] Writing on the 17th March, he says: "I send you also your robes of the order, which you must not forget to wear upon St. George's day, and dine together in them if they come in time, which I pray God they may, for it will be a goodly sight for the Spaniards to see my two boys dine in them. I send you also the jewels I promised; some of mine, and such of yours, I mean both of you, as are worthy of sending. For my Baby's presenting to his mistress, I send him an old double cross of Lorraine, not so rich as ancient, and yet not contemptible for the value, a good looking-glass with my picture in it to be hung at her girdle, which ye must tell her ye have caused it so to be enchanted by art magic as whensoever she shall be pleased to look in it she shall see the fairest lady that either her brother's or your father's dominions can afford. Ye shall present her with two long fair diamonds set like an anchor, and a fair pendant diamond hanging to them; ye shall give her a goodly rope of pearls, ye shall give her a carcanet or collar, thirteen great ball rubies and thirteen knots or conques of pearls, and ye shall give her a head dressing of two-and-twenty great pear pearls; and ye shall give her three goodly peak pendants, diamonds whereof the biggest to be worn at a needle on the forehead and one in each ear. For my Baby's own wearing ye have two good jewels of your own, your round brooch of diamonds and your triangle diamond with the great round pearl, and I send ye for your wearing three bretheren that ye know full well, but newly set; the mirror of France, the fellow of the Portugal diamond, which I would wish you to wear alone in your hat with a little black feather. You have also good diamond buttons of your own to be set to a doublet or jerkin. As for your 'J,' it may serve as a present for a Don. As for thee, my sweet Gossip, I send thee a fair table diamond, which I would once have given thee before if thou would'st have taken it for wearing in thy hat or where thou pleases; and if my Baby will spare thee two long diamonds in form of an anchor it were fit for an Admiral to wear." After minute instructions as to how Charles is to give his presents to the Infanta, the King continues: "I have also sent four other crosses of meaner value, with a great pointed diamond in a ring, which will save charges in presents to Dons, according to quality; but I will send with the fleet divers other jewels for presents." Hardwicke, State Papers.
[15] Familiar Letters.
[16] Gondomar was specially obnoxious to the London prentices, who attacked him in his carriage on more than one occasion.
[17] News-letter from London.
[18] Hardwicke, State Papers.
[19] Full details of the discussion from day to day are in El Hecho de los Tratados, etc. Camden Society.
[20] Hardwicke, State Papers.
[21] Hecho de los Tratados. Camden Society.
[22] Hardwicke, State Papers.
[23] Hardwicke, State Papers.
[24] The meaning of this somewhat obscure passage, appears to be that if King James made public the conditions to which he was to pledge himself the opposition in England might prevent the measures promised from being carried out, in which case the disappointment in Spain would be redoubled.
[25] Secretary Conway to Buckingham. Hardwicke, State Papers. Conway says concerning this: "The acts of favour are gone for the King's signature, which, known, will create cold sweat and fear until the return of his Highness."
[26] Soto y Aguilar MS.
[27] One of these, a cane tourney, is fully described in a Spanish account translated in Somers' Tracts. Philip was always a lover of this showy diversion, in which bodies of gaily clad horsemen manoeuvred in opposing squadrons, throwing small cane javelins at each other, the skilful horsemanship being the criterion of excellence. After the usual parade through the gaily decked streets, in which Philip and Charles rode side by side, the King went to the palace of the Countess de Miranda to change his dress and prepare for the evolutions. The palace was splendidly fitted up with white damask for his reception; the halls being artificially cooled and perfumed. His hostess received him in state at the door, and served him with a refection, "consisting of all manner of conserves, dried suckets and rosewater confections of eight different sorts." Philip, by the way, was a great lover of sweetmeats.
[28] Hecho de los Tratados.
[29] They are all described, ad nauseam, in the Soto y Aguilar MS.
[30] The Nuncio sent the same night a special messenger to the nun, directing her how she was to endeavour to do the great service to the Catholic Church.
[31] These jewels were afterwards returned when the match was abandoned.
[32] Lord Bristol's remonstrance to the Prince on this disingenuous proceeding is in Cabala, p. 101.
[33] Buckingham, in his haughty letter of rebuke to Aston (Cabala, 120), says that Charles wrote to Aston from Santander to the effect that he would never marry the Infanta unless good conditions were agreed to with regard to the Palatinate. Aston's letters from Madrid are in Cabala.
[34] I'll bring all things with me you have desired except the Infanta, which hath almost broken my heart, because your, your son's, and the nation's honour is touched by the miss of it. Hardwicke, State Papers.
FOREIGN WAR RENDERED INEVITABLE BY OLIVARES' POLICY—ITS EFFECT IN SPAIN—CONDITION OF THE COURT—WASTE, IDLENESS, AND OSTENTATION OF ALL CLASSES—EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS—PHILIP'S EFFORTS TO REFORM MANNERS—RETRENCHMENT IN HIS HOUSEHOLD—THE SUMPTUARY ENACTMENTS—THE GOLILLA—THE INDUSTRY OF OLIVARES—HIS CHARACTER AND APPEARANCE—HIS MAIN OBJECT TO SECURE POLITICAL AND FISCAL UNITY IN SPAIN—THE DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY OF THIS—THE COMEDIES—THEATRES IN MADRID—PHILIP'S LOVE FOR THE STAGE—AN AUTO-DE-FE—LORD WIMBLEDON'S ATTACK ON CADIZ—RICHELIEU'S LEAGUE AGAINST SPAIN—SPANISH SUCCESSES—"PHILIP THE GREAT"—VISIT OF THE KING TO ARAGON AND CATALONIA IN 1626—DISCONTENT AND DISSENSION—PHILIP'S LIFE TRAGEDY
The policy of Olivares, which had estranged England and revived the haughty old claims of Spain to dictate to Europe, had already begun to produce widespread effects. France, no longer under the papal Italian rule of the Queen-mother, but in the firm hands of Richelieu, could not be expected to submit to such claims now; and during 1624 Europe once more divided itself into two camps, one to assert and the other to dispute the supremacy of the house of Austria under the hegemony of Spain. Richelieu did not believe in beginning the game until he held all the cards in his hands, and delayed an open declaration of war until he could join with him in a league against Spain, the United Provinces, and Savoy, and had bought at least the neutrality if not the active aid of England.
A corrupt capital
In the meanwhile we will glance at the effects which had been produced in Spain, and particularly in the Court, by the joint action of the young King and his mentor, the Count-Duke. The ruin and disappearance of the greedy crew that had followed Lerma and his family, and the accession of a promising youth like Philip IV. to the throne, had filled the lieges with the belief that, as if by a fairy wand, all Spain's troubles would cease and national power and general prosperity would flood the long-suffering land with joy. The happy dream was of short duration, for the ills were too deep seated to be quickly cured, if even wise measures had been adopted. But the reforms of Olivares had been merely of a palliative character, leaving the system and incidence of taxation radically bad. Whilst rigid investigation of past peculations was effected, whilst the squandering of the royal resources in grants was limited, and economy severely enjoined in the expenditure of private citizens, the most lavish waste was perpetrated in other directions; and this, with the cost incurred by a forward foreign policy, had, in the three years that succeeded the accession of Philip, again brought affairs to a crisis, in which the national penury was the conspicuous fact.
As soon as the echoes had died away of the festivals that had been organised to dazzle the English Prince, the discontent of the people began to find voice amongst those whose mordant speech and fluent pen were so eager always to seize upon a pretext for the exercise of their powers. Quevedo, the greatest wit of his time, who had once more been recalled from the exile into which his biting satire so often cast him,[1] and was the idol both of the quidnuncs of Liars' Walk and of the dilettante nobles of the Court, launched his darts against the grumblers, and told Spaniards boldly that the continued misery was the fault of the degenerate race of his countrymen, "the well perfumed but ill conducted hosts" who impatiently resisted or evaded the decrees of those who endeavoured to mend matters.
The decrees, it is true, were from their intricacy and their thoroughness not easy to follow, for they sought to revolutionise the customs and ways of life rendered familiar by almost immemorial usage. The evils to be cured had been patent to all, but the remedies were too sudden and too drastic to be effectual. When Philip had first come to the throne, and the new broom was to be wielded, the reforming member of the Cortes, Lison y Biedma, had told the King[2]—
"Your subjects spend and waste great sums in the abuse of costly garb, with so many varieties of trimmings that the making costs more than the stuff; and as soon as the clothes are made there is a change of fashion and the money has to be spent over again. When they marry the wealth they squander on dress alone ruins them, and they remain in debt for the rest of their lives; ... such is the excess that the wife of an artisan nowadays needs as much finery as a lady, even though she have to get money for it by dishonest means and to the offence of God.... As for collars and ruffs, the disorder in their use is very scandalous. A single ruff of linen with its making and ravelling will cost over 200 reals, and six reals every time it is dressed, which at the end of the year doubles its cost, and much money is thus wasted. Besides, many strong, able young men are employed in dressing and goffering these extravagant things, who might be better employed in work necessary for the commonwealth or in tilling the ground. The servants, too, have to be paid higher wages in consequence of the money they spend in wearing these collars, which indeed consumes most of what they earn; and a great quantity of wheat is wasted in starch which is sorely wanted for food. The fine linens to make these collars have, moreover, to be brought from abroad, and money has to be sent out of the country to pay for them. With respect to coaches, great evil is caused and offence given to God, seeing the disquiet they bring to women who own them; for they never stay at home, but leave their children and servants to run riot, with the evil example of the mistress being always gadding abroad. The art of horsemanship is dying out, and those who ought to be mounted crowd, six or eight of them together, in a coach, talking to wenches rather than learning how to ride. Very different gentlemen, indeed, will they grow up who have all their youth been lolling about in coaches instead of riding."
And so on, almost every item of the daily life of Madrid is shown by the writers of the day to be vicious, wasteful, and corrupt. Idlers crowd in the monasteries, and hosts of other idlers, sham students, poetasters, bullies, and beggars, depend for their daily sustenance upon the garlic soup and crusts which are doled out at the gates from the superfluity of the friars; and servants, with or without wages, but living slothfully upon their patron's food in tawdry finery and squalid plenty, pester the noble houses from stable court to roof.[3] Philip and Olivares in the early days did not lack courage, and they came out with a decree so drastic to restrict the wearing of rich clothes, the abuse of ornament, and the possession of rich furniture, the use of trimmings, bullion, silks, velvets, embroideries, and fringes, and to limit the employment of silver and gold plate for household use,[4] as to be quite inoperative; besides which, almost as soon as the decree was promulgated the visit of Charles Stuart caused its suspension.
The number of servants to be kept was rigidly restricted, the use of coaches was only to be allowed to people of a certain rank, women were forbidden to drive up and down unattended by father or husband, and, what caused more gibes than anything else, the houses of ill fame, of which, in the alleys leading out of the Calle Mayor, there was an enormous number, were ordered to be closed. Above all, the most severe orders were given against the wearing of ruffs and the using of starch for any purpose. Pillory, confiscation, and exile were to be the fate of any person who wore any pleated or goffered linen in any shape, and the broad, flat Walloon collar, which fell upon the shoulders, alone was to be allowed. Alguacils were provided with shears, and at a given signal raided the fashionable promenades, cutting the fine lace ruffs which the fops still insisted upon wearing, seizing and burning the stocks of them in the shops, lopping hat-brims to the requisite narrowness, confiscating jewels, and even snipping off the lovelocks before the ears which were the mark of the exquisite.
The ladies, too, were no better treated, and many a brazen-faced madam was hauled out of her trundling coach and put to shame, or had portions of her forbidden finery profaned by the coarse hands of catchpoles. The Calle Mayor and the Prado were up in arms at such sacrilege, and bewailed the time when, the stern pragmatics notwithstanding, each hidalgo and his dame who could get money or credit dressed as splendidly as they liked. The worst of it was, that except the time when all the Court was ablaze with the welcome to its English visitor, the King, for the first time, followed his own pragmatics. Philip, like his grandfather, disliked gorgeous attire for himself; though, when the dignity of his position demanded it, he could be refulgent. He was, moreover, sincerely desirous of remedying the terrible penury that existed everywhere. He had been told by his advisers that one of the ways to do this was to limit personal expenditure, in order that there might be more money for the State to spend, and he endeavoured in his own person to set the example of economy.
Philip's reforms
Philip has left a document in his own hand,[5] setting forth the reforms he introduced in the service of his own palace (February 1624). It is addressed to the master of the household, the Duke of Infantado, and although far too long to reproduce entire here, some few passages of it may be quoted, as showing that, severe as the cutting down might be, the royal household was still much larger than would now be considered necessary for a monarch.[6] The distressed condition of the public revenues, says the King, the many calls upon it, the end of the truce with the Dutch, and Spain's many foes on sea and land, make it imperative to cut down every unnecessary expense. A beginning is to be made in the salary of the master of the household himself, all future holders of the office to receive a million maravedis less salary (i.e. £330 less), but to retain all the perquisites of the office. Only the four senior stewards are in future to be paid, the rest to serve without payment, but to retain their rations, with some small reductions, namely, the dish of chicken custard or rice is to be suppressed, and the allowance of twenty pounds of ice hitherto given to each steward daily to be stopped. The number of "gentlemen of the mouth" is in future to be restricted to fifty, the gentlemen of the chambers to forty, who are not to have more than two lacqueys each. The pages in future are to be only twenty-four. The numbers of officials of the bakery, fruitery, cellar, spicery, chandlery, and butchery are all reduced to what still seems an extravagant personnel according to modern ideas, and the old scandal of the enormous "rations" drawn (and in many cases sold) by all the palace officials is once more attacked. For instance, the perquisite of sixty wax torches taken by the chief gentlemen of the bed-chamber is abolished; and only eight sets of rations are to be served to the gentlemen of the bed-chamber, whilst the chief groom of the bed-chamber is in future to go without his fifty reals a month in lieu of salads, and his jam on fast days. The controller of the household will no longer be entitled to fresh meat, pastry, bacon, chicken custard, salad and jams, and will have to content himself in future whilst on a journey with two dishes of roast meat and one dish of boiled, and two dishes for supper,—"and he must not take anything out of the store."
Philip's household economies
Through every branch of the household this process of reduction was decreed by Philip, and even the pay of the guards was rigidly cut down. The members of the Spanish guard had recently had their pay doubled to 200 ducats a month, and now found themselves reduced to their former pay of 100. The King, by these reforms, decreed that a saving of 67,300 ducats a year was to be effected. In another manuscript of the King's,[7] in which a year or two afterwards he recapitulates his personal efforts to remedy the evils of his country, he refers particularly to the sacrifices he made in his household for the commonweal at this time.
"I have twice reformed my household," he says, "and although my servants may be more numerous than before, I have had no other money to pay them with than honours, and they have received no pecuniary pay. As for my personal expenses, the moderation of my dress and my rare feasts prove how modest it is, and I spend no money voluntarily on myself, for I try to give my vassals an example to avoid vain ostentation. So I have reconciled myself to ask for nothing for my own person, but only the indispensable funds for the defence of my realm and the Catholic faith. I want no more, not a maravedi, from my vassals, and I charge you (the Council of Castile) on your conscience to let me know if anything is being spent beyond this."
Philip spoke truly and from his heart when he expressed his desire to avoid as much as possible the oppression of his subjects, but the science of political economy had not yet been born, and neither he nor his advisers could see that a system of taxation that largely consisted of a crushing fine upon every sale of commodities and food stopped production and trade, and tapped the stream of revenue before it had time to fructify the land. The money from the Indies, or what was left of it after the peculations of officers, all drifted abroad immediately, mostly before landing, to pay for the loans raised on usurious interest, and in return for the articles of extravagance and luxury which were forbidden to be made in Spain, or of which the vicious taxation had killed the production. And so Philip, with the best of intentions, still, be it remembered, a mere boy of nineteen, was enclosed in the vicious circle which the impossible policy of saddling Spain with the defence and assertion of the Catholic faith throughout the world had imposed upon his doomed house.
He might, and did, as I have just shown, do his best to economise for the supposed benefit of his people; but it was his people themselves who needed reforming. Whilst they complained that matters got no better, they shouted as loudly as ever that Spain must teach heretics their error at the point of the pike, and they themselves resisted and evaded by every means in their power the sumptuary and other measures intended for the general relief. That these sumptuary measures were to a great extent absurd, and the methods of enforcing them undignified and often ridiculous, is, of course, clear to us now; but the resistance to them was not founded on that ground, but because they went against the prevailing sentiment of the people, at least the people of the capital. The general pretentiousness, idleness, and love of luxury unearned by labour were, indeed, symptomatic of the natural decadence of society, produced by the unfounded inflation and unreal exaltation of the nation for the greater part of a century previously. The decay had gone too far now for any but a great governing genius to remedy it; and Philip, though good hearted, well meaning, and not without ability, certainly was not that. The poison had to work itself out of the national system by slow and painful process, until the patient, exhausted but sound, could build up its strength again. Philip, throughout his life a brilliant idler with good heart and a tender conscience, was condemned to witness the progress of the disease without being able to understand or remedy it; and to watch at the same time with failing heart the parallel decline and threatened extinction of his own historic house.
Whilst the male, and especially the female, swaggerers of the Calle Mayor gave grudging and evasive obedience to the royal pragmatics against extravagance in most respects, there was one enactment of Philip's which, though at first resisted more sulkily than any of them, gave rise at length to a new fashion, which was seized upon by the whole of Spain with avidity, and became for the rest of the century—seventy-five years—the most entirely characteristic article of Spanish male dress. The ruffs under Philip III. had become enormous, and the costly lace edging and elaborate devices for keeping the frills stiff had made them, perhaps, the most extravagant articles of dress ever generally and diurnally worn in any country. Many attempts had been made to suppress them before Philip and Olivares tried their hands, but all had failed. The alternative collar decreed by Philip's pragmatics was either a plain linen band or the flat Walloon collar falling on the shoulders. The former of these was rejected utterly by people who aspired to be well dressed, as being mean and lacking in distinction after the spreading splendour of the "lettuce frill" ruff. The Walloon collar, unstarched, soon got wrinkled, creased, and soiled; and moreover, it had become to a great extent identified with the "heretic" Hollanders and unpopular Flemings, so that Madrid never looked upon it with favour, though the King wore it after his first pragmatic. The problem was to find a new collar which should be dignified and stiff without the forbidden starch, "or other alchemy," as the pragmatics said; should present the light contrast becoming to swarthy faces, without employing the fine foreign lawn and lace which the royal decree made illegal, and should render unnecessary the puritanical wrinkled Walloon.
The golilla
An ingenious tailor in the Calle Mayor, early in 1623, submitted to the King and to his brother Carlos a new device, consisting of a high spreading collar of cardboard, covered with white or grey silk on its inner surface, and on the outside with dark cloth to match the doublet. By means of heated iron rollers and shellac the cardboard shape was permanently moulded into a graceful curve which bent outwards at the height of the chin, presenting in juxtaposition with the face the surface of light coloured silk.[8] Philip was pleased with the novelty, which was distinctly more "dressy" than the Walloon, and had none of the objections of the ruff, and ordered some to be made for his brother Carlos and himself. The tailor, in high glee, went home to his shop to make them. But, alas! the pragmatics had forbidden "any sort of alchemy" to make collars stiff, and, moreover, the Inquisition was soon told by its spies that some secret incantations, needing the use of mysterious smoking pots and heated machines turned by handles, were being performed by the tailor in the Calle Mayor.
This was suspicious, and smelt of the Evil One; and soon the poor tailor and his uncanny instruments were haled before the dread tribunal on suspicion of witchcraft and sorcery. It could not make much of the tools, but as, in any case, the collars were lined with silk, and that was against the pragmatic, the poor tailor's stock and instruments were ordered to be publicly burnt before his door. The tailor, in trouble, went to Olivares, who was furious at the King's collars being burnt, and he and the Duke of Infantado sent for the president of the Inquisition Council, and rated him soundly. The president declared that he knew not that the strange things were for his Majesty; but pointed out how dangerously new they were in shape, how mysteriously stiffened, and how they sinned against the pragmatic. But he was soon silenced by the Count-Duke, who told him they were the best and most economical neck-gear ever invented, as they needed no washing or starching, and would last for a year without further expense. Philip[9] and Carlos, with many of the courtiers, wore the new Golilla for the first time during the visit of the Prince of Wales, and the fashion caught the popular taste. Thenceforward all Spain, Spanish Italy, and South America wore golillas, the curve, size, and shape changing somewhat as other fashions changed, but the principle remained the same, until Spain was born again and a French King banned the golilla as barbarous, and imposed upon his new subjects the falling lace cravat and jabot of the eighteenth century.
Though the satirists and poetasters might gibe anonymously at the small remedial effect that followed the well-meant measures of the King and his "bogey," as they called Olivares, and might whisper spitefully, as they did, that the latter purposely kept Philip absorbed in frivolous pursuits, the better to be able to rule unchecked himself, the favourite went on his way sternly and forcefully, pushing aside roughly those who stood in nis path, and behaving none too generously to those who aided him. He gave up none of the duties of personal attendance upon the King, although now the whole of the details of every department of State passed through his hands. The jealous courtiers, whose perquisites he had curtailed, sneered beneath their breath at him for coming into the King's room hung all round with packets of paper, with similar packets stuck in sheafs under the band of his hat, and bulging from his pockets, the very way, they said, to disgust with affairs a youth already disinclined for business and constitutionally idle.
The policy of Olivares
It is quite evident, however, that someone had to do the business of the State; and the numerous and very able State papers and memoranda of advice from Olivares to Philip, still in existence,[10] show that every subject of importance was exhaustively explained to the King, naturally from Olivares' point of view, and that, if Philip left the executive power in the hands of the minister, it was not because he was kept in ignorance of the issues involved. Even thus early the main tendency of Olivares' policy was avowed to the King, a policy which was in its essence wise and statesmanlike, but impossible of expeditious consummation. The difficulty which faced Olivares had faced Ferdinand and Isabel and all subsequent Spanish sovereigns, namely, the want of political unity of the country. The "Catholic Kings" had attained a factitious homogeneity by promoting a common spiritual pride, which had given to Spain the temporary force, already well-nigh dead when Olivares took the reins. How could Spain face half Europe in arms, and force orthodoxy on unwilling princes and populations with the resources of ruined Castile alone? Aragonese and Catalans were rich, but held their purse-strings tight. Portugal, with its fine harbours and its rich Oriental trade, held stiffly to the constitution, to respect which Spanish kings had solemnly sworn, and not a ducat of taxes could be imposed upon it by the King of Spain without Portuguese consent, or for other than Portuguese purposes.
Olivares advocates unification
The expiry of the truce with the Hollanders, and the evident approach of war after the departure of Charles Stuart from Spain, made necessary the raising of large funds somehow. It has been shown how terribly exhausted the national resources of the Castilian realms were; and the poverty of the country had wrung a cry from the Cortes of Castile, which met late in 1623 to vote new supplies for three years. They could not vote, nor could Castile pay, more than the usual amount, which for the needs of a new war, in addition to the resumed struggle with Holland, was quite insufficient. It would be necessary, therefore, for Philip soon to go and face the independent Parliaments of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia; and, whilst renewing and taking the usual oaths, beg for generosity from his eastern subjects. There is extant a paper,[11] bearing date of 1625, in which Olivares unfolds to Philip his ideas of the relations that ought to exist between the various dominions of which Spain consisted: the object in view, as he says, being to arrange that "in case any of the States was at war, the rest should be obliged to come to its aid and defence." He cites many examples, ancient and modern, of the need for national unity in the matter of finance and reciprocal obligation, and points out for the benefit of the outer realms of Spain that they can only expect to form a great Power by making such sacrifices for their King as other subjects are obliged to make. His idea, evidently, was to use the obligation of mutual defence as the first step to a complete political fusion of the crowns, and he tried to gild the pill by saying that each of the outer realms may now be considered feudatories of Castile, whereas if they were all united each would be the head. There was, and is, no sentiment or tradition so strong in these regions, especially in Catalonia, as that of political independence of Castile, and any such argument as that of Olivares was bound to meet with stout resistance if he attempted to enforce it. The very rumour was sufficient, and even before the journey of Philip to the eastern realms was begun, in January 1626, ominous murmurs came that Castile might fight her own battles. The crowns of Aragon would provide money and men to defend themselves, and pay their stipulated tribute to their King on the ancient conditions; but that if an attempt was made to coerce any further payment trouble would ensue. How this threat was carried out to the bitter end the later pages of this book will tell; but before we accompany Philip and his mentor on their first regal visit to the stubborn realms of the east, the further progress of events in the capital must be told.