Meantime, festivities were carried on in Spain which rivalled the most brilliant spectacles witnessed in that age of pageantry, during which chivalric manners and chivalric sports were for the last time seen in England, since they were never revived after the Rebellion.

On Easter Sunday a masque was performed in honour of the strangers. The Queen, clad in white, in remembrance of the Resurrection, and decked in jewels, dined in public, first having duly observed the solemn religious services of the festival.

Prince Charles also dined in public; the gentlemen-tasters, it is especially noted, attended, and the Earl of Bristol gave them the towel.

After vespers, the Court assembled, and the palace was thronged with strangers from the various provinces, all eager to see the “wooer.” Charles was then in the full vigour of his youth; he is depicted by Velasquez, at or about this period, as possessing that bloom which care so early destroys; his face was ever rather interesting and picturesque than handsome; but it may easily be imagined how, set off by the charm of manner, the graces of his person may have been exaggerated by those who now welcomed him as a suitor to the young princess. He had, on this occasion, adopted, for the first time, the Spanish national costume, and was in a black dress, “richly garded,” after the Spanish fashion, with the George about his neck, hanging by a watchet ribbon. “The enamelled garter,” so states the Spanish chroniclers, “exceeded that colour” (the watchet) “in brightness, and his Majesty might as clearly be discerned as a sun amid the stars. This being not the meanest action and demonstration of his prudence, that being a travelling guest, who came by the post, not being able to shine with equal lustre, he came to participate of the Spanish sun.”^[464]

From this observation it appears that the jewels promised by James had not then arrived. The Prince must, therefore, have acted as a contrast, though not a foil, to King Philip, who was resplendent in a dress of ash colour, with an immense Golden Fleece, and a huge chain, baudrick-wise, around his neck, “robbing,” as the annalist declared, in his girdle, and other jewels, the “glory of Phœbus’ beams;” in his hat he displayed a large waving plume. Then came Buckingham, whom the chroniclers of the day style the Admiral, and Olivares, and they repaired to the Queen’s apartments, where the Infanta, with her Majesty, came out to receive them. At the interview which then took place, Sir Walter Aston acted as interpreter; in that capacity he wished the Queen a happy Easter; the young and blushing Infanta, standing by, received these compliments, which were presumed to come direct from Charles, with a modesty and gravity far beyond her years. Then their Majesties went to the window of the south gallery to see the trial of arms in the Court of the Palace.

The whole beauty, rank, and splendour of Spain were assembled in this gallery, but none were more remarkable for grace, and for the knowledge of the Court, than the Condessa Olivares—whose name was afterwards coupled with Buckingham’s in scandalous terms. She is expressively said to have given “a life to all actions of greatness and courtship.”courtship.” She was only exceeded in address by her husband, between whom and Buckingham a coolness soon afterwards commenced. A trial of arms, the champions and their attendants being masked, then took place, beginning from the house occupied by Buckingham, near the Royal Hospital of Misericordia, and extending to the palace, upon which were set the cartels of challenge, to which the Marquis de Alcanizas, on the part of the Spaniards, and Buckingham, on that of the English, were respondents.

Buckinghams’s “livery,” on this occasion, was very costly. It consisted of hoods of orange, tawny, and silver cloth, set with flowers and Romaine devices of black cloth, edged with silver in circles, with turbans in Moorish fashion, and white plumes. Two courses were run in the palace-court, the chief masker being the flattered favourite of King James. Amid the gallant throng, four maskers, in Turkish costume, attracted especial notice. One of them was discovered, by the brightness of his hair, and his stateliness in running at the ring, to be the King, who thus testified the honour he wished to pay to Buckingham by joining in the same sport.^[465]

The Bull-fight, or Panaderia, followed the trial of arms, and took place during Pentecost. This cruel diversion had been repeatedly prohibited by Papal bulls, but to no purpose. So common was it to have several men killed during a bull-fight, that priests were always on the spot, ready to confess the dying; and according to Howell, who was present on this occasion, it was not unusual to see a man dangling on each horn of the bull, with his entrails hanging from him.^[466]

The bull-fight at which Charles and Buckingham were present, was held on the first of June; and scarcely had the day dawned, when a concourse of nobility rushed to the Panaderia or Bullangerie, as it is called in the old chronicle; where, in the centre of a space encircled by twelve arches of unpolished stone, a gilded scaffolding was erected, the lower part of which was covered with cloth of gold and silver, mingled with crimson. On either side were smaller scaffoldings, divided from the principal one by partitions of crimson cloth, spotted with gold. This erection had only been once used, when the Duc de Maine had visited Madrid for the espousals, by proxy, with Anne of Austria. On the left hand there was a portal by which persons seated on the scaffolding might go in and out of the scaffolding; and on the summit of all were two canopies of Florence cloth, of carnation-colour, interspersed with gold rays, with chairs of cloth of gold and silver underneath them, and hung with rich tapestry. On these various stages stood the nobility of Spain and the Council; whilst, beneath the canopy, their Majesties were seated, the Pope’s Nuncio standing on the right hand, and the several ambassadors on the left. The Corregidores of Madrid, with their eight servants and four lacqueys, in “glorious liveries” of plain black velvet, with embroidered skirts, cloaks of black cloth, and doublets of black lace, and feathers of a colour “which all the place admired and wondered at,” received the Council,—“that high senate,” so writes the chronicler, entering with a wonderful majesty, and so taking their places.

All the ladies of the Court, the nobility and Council and Corregidores, being placed according to degree, the Queen and the Infanta made their appearance, driving to the Panaderia in their coaches. These two Princesses were dressed in dark grey, embroidered with lentils of gold, and wore plumes and jewels in their hair. The Queen’s carroche, as it was called in the old language of the day, was followed by numerous other coaches, in which sat the flower of the Court, all ladies of the highest rank, who, how sombre soever the fashion of their dresses, displayed in their equipages the gayest colours, according well with the rich hues which nature, at that season, produced. This procession was escorted by the Alcaldes on horseback, whose troop was augmented by a number of English and Spanish knights, officers, and grandees. As the Queen and Infanta alighted, they were conducted by the captain of the guard, clad “in a brave livery of dark yellow,” and wearing a plume, to their seats.

Amid the escort who did honour to the Queen that day, appeared most conspicuously the then gay and sanguine Charles the First, in the brief may-day of his life. He rode on a parti-coloured horse, curbed with no bit, which seemed, beneath its royal burden, to have laid aside its high spirit, and to submit to the skilful management of the young equestrian. The Prince, it is specified, looked “relucent in black and white plumes;” he accompanied the King, mounted on a dapple grey, also without the bit. Philip wore the dark-coloured suit of his country. Then came Buckingham, with the Condé Olivares, the Master of the Horse, preceding the band of English gentry, and riding with the Council of State and Chamber of Spain.

Having taken their appointed seats, Charles and his countrymen beheld, first, fifty lacqueys in high-Dutch costume of cloth of silver, with caps of wrought silver, follow the Duke de Cea, into the enclosure. Behind the Duke rode the combatants, distinguished by great tawny plumes, and hose of tawny cloth, laced with silver. They were scrupulously alike. Scarcely had this gallant Spanish noble paid his homage to the royal personages present than the Duke de Maqueda, looking, says the enthusiastic chronicler, “like one of the Roman Cæsars,” and followed by many noblemen, attended by a hundred lacqueys in dark-coloured serge, banded with lace, and relieved with silver belts and white garters, rode gallantly into the palace.

Next appeared the Condé de Villamor, with his fifty lacqueys in white printed satin, with doublets of azure, silk, and gold, set out with tufts of gold and silver lace, with white plumes on their hats; and amid this gorgeous throng, on a chestnut horse, rode the Condé, his horse’s mainmain and tail being drawn out with silver twist, “surpassing even the horses of Phœbus’ chariot.” Such was the waving of feathers, that it was, says the beholder, like “a moving garden, or an army of Indians.”

And now came the two combatants—Gaviria and Bonifaz; or, as they were called, Kill-bulls. They, too, had their lacqueys—Bonifaz in white plumes, whilst those of Gaviria were distinguished by dark green suits. Lastly, appeared the Cavalier de la Morzilla, who came to “try his fortune with lance and target.”

Although by right the office of Marshal, on this occasion, belonged to the Condé Olivares, it was surrendered to Buckingham, Charles giving precedence to his favourite; so that it was the proud office of the once lowly Villiers to appear chief in the court of Spain, as he had often done in that of England. He stood, therefore, behind the Infanta, Don Carlos, and by the side of Olivares, who acted not only as an adviser, but also as interpreter—the Duke, it seems, having never acquired Spanish. The part thus allotted to Olivares, though a subordinate one, was performed with due punctilio and courtesy; and as one sensible of the honour which James had done him in the “letters, full of wisdom and gravity,” with which he had honoured him.

Then the lacqueys drew back, and looking in their blue and red colours like a harvest in June blown about by the breeze, left their lords to the perilous encounter. The bull-fight witnessed by Charles and Buckingham differed little from that still unhappily the chief delight of the Spaniards in our own times, except that, to pay the more refined tribute to the Prince and his favourite, the combatants were of high rank. As the Condé de Villamor, to whom the first encounter was allotted, rode to the assault, his retainers showered darts on the bull; whose hide resembled, according to the flowery narrative of Mendoza, a quiver, or recalled “the thorny hedges of Helvetia;” but the bystanders, seeing the poor animal’s agonies, took out the arrows with great velocity, although, in so doing, they were in imminent danger of their lives. De Magueda signalised himself by many brave attempts; but it was the glory of a combatant named Cantillana that he killed a bull. Bonifaz and Gaviria made such desperate attacks on the poor animals, that their assaults could not be counted; but the greatest praise was due to De Velada; who overthrew two or three hulls by “dint of sword and gore of lance,” but having wounded one of these infuriated creatures between the eyes, ran so great a risk that the King; would not suffer him to enter a second time into the lists. Numerous, indeed, were the feats that might incite to poetry, or to song, had not the conflict been of so cruel and so debasing a nature; so that the valour which was so largely displayed might even be said to verge upon brutality. Mendoza enumerates them with a savage enthusiasm. Amid the most successful of the bull-killers appeared the famous Montezuma, who did credit to his royal blood and established bravery by putting a bull to flight, the animal having unaccountably showed signs of fear; he was pursued by Montezuma, and, struck by a cleaving blow of the sword, was left for dead. As the fight drew near its close, Antonio Gamio, the Duke de Cea’s second, made one of the bravest assaults of the day upon a furious bull, upon which he rushed, leaving half of his lance within him, whilst cries of delight and shouts of exultation rang through the air, and the bull fell down dead by the side of the fearless combatant; the horse stood perfectly still, showing to what a degree of perfection management had brought the courser; so intrepid when urged onward, so docile when occasion required.

The bull-fight being ended, the Queen and Infanta returned, beneath a shower of rain, which surprised them in that season, to the palace, where they sought repose after the exciting scenes, in which even the young and gentle Infanta took a delight apparently inconsistent with her character. Nothing, indeed, can exceed the raptures of Andres de Mendoza, from whose animated pages this narrative is drawn. “Since the report is Festival,” he says, referring to his own exaggerated descriptions, “it is but like to that which was to be seen with the eye. You would have said as much if you had but seen them fight with those furious beasts, showing themselves the more valiant, in that they were undaunted and resolved Spaniards.”^[467]