CHAPTER VIII

During all this time Prince Carlos's strangeness had been increasing little by little, until it had become madness, his overbearing nature cruelty, and the aversion he showed to his father deep hatred.

It was in vain that, when the Prince was nineteen, D. Philip admitted him to the Council of State (1564), and gave him a new household, leaving Luis Quijada as Master of the Horse, but naming no less a person than Ruy Gómez de Silva, Prince of évoli, as Lord Steward, in the place of D. Garcia de Toledo, lately dead.

All D. Carlos's household were the victims of his violence and abuse, from Ruy Gómez, whom he continually threatened that, when he was King, Ruy Gómez should know it, to the lowest barber, whom he beat with his own hand for the least delay or mistake.

One day the King was consulting with his ministers about Flemish affairs; the Prince, who was very curious about the subject, went to listen at the door, with one ear at the keyhole, the Queen's ladies and pages seeing him in this ignoble position from the gallery above. His gentleman D. Diego de Acu?a hearing of it, wanted to get him away, but D. Carlos answered him by a slap in the face, which so enraged D. Diego that it was with difficulty that he restrained the impulse of plunging a dagger into the Prince's heart, and he went straight to the King and resigned his appointment. D. Philip soothed his wounded feelings by taking him into his own service, with doubled honours and salary.

D. Carlos insulted another of his gentlemen, D. Alonso de Córdoba, son of the Marqués de las Navas, in the same way, slapping his face because he did not hasten when D. Carlos called, saying that he had intended to do it for six months, and it was fair that he should at last give vent to his desire.

One day he waylaid Cardinal Espinosa, President of Castille (who had exiled an actor named Cisnero, who was on intimate terms with D. Carlos, from the Court), at the door of the Council Chamber, and rushed at him, dagger in hand, and, pulling off his rochet, cried, "Little priest! You dare to stop Cisnero coming to wait upon me? By the life of my father, I must kill you." And so he would have done, had not some of the Grandees, who hastened at the cries, released the Cardinal from him.

This insolence to great personages became monstrous cruelty to the lower orders. In the Palace accounts, preserved in the Archives of Simancas, one meets with entries of indemnification paid to the fathers of boys caused to be beaten by D. Carlos. One day he wanted to throw his valet, Juan Estévez de Lobon, out of a window into the castle moat, after having beaten him, and he obliged a shoemaker, who had made him boots that were too tight, to eat them cooked and cut up in small pieces. Water fell on him one day from a window, and he at once sent a guard to burn the house and kill the inhabitants, and, "to satisfy him," says Cabrera de Córdoba, "the guard returned and said that the Holy Sacrament of the Viaticum was entering the house, and for this they had respected the walls."

On one occasion he shut himself up for five hours in the stables, and on leaving left twenty horses rendered useless through his ill-treatment, including a favourite one of the King's, which died two days afterwards.

He added to these cruel extravagances, the work of an unhinged mind, unkind, barefaced exhibitions of aversion towards his father, of which good proof was found in his papers afterwards.

Among these there was a blank book, with the title, written by the Prince's own hand, "The Great Travels of the King Philip II," and then on each of its pages these sneers: "The journey from Madrid to the Pardo," "From the Pardo to the Escorial," "From the Escorial to Aranjuez," "From Aranjuez to Toledo," "From Toledo to Valladolid," "From Valladolid to Burgos," "From Burgos to Madrid," and "From the Pardo to Aranjuez," "From Aranjuez to the Escorial," "From the Escorial to Madrid," etc.

In another paper, written also by him, was "The list of my enemies," and the first name that figured on it was "The King, my father." Then followed Ruy Gómez de Silva, the Princess de évoli, Cardinal Espinosa, the Duque de Alba, and various other lords. On the other side of the paper he had written "List of my friends," "Queen Isabel, who has always been very good to me." And then "D. John of Austria, my much-loved uncle," then Luis Quijada, D. Pedro Fajardo, and very few more.

Indeed, Queen Isabel and D. John were the only two people the unlucky Prince spared in his hatred and general rudeness; and this has furnished poets, novelists and pseudo-learned persons with the supposition that between this unfortunate Prince, who never became a man, and the virtuous D. Isabel of the Peace, model of queens and wives, there existed a romantic and incestuous passion, which has served as a base for their midnight studies, calumnies to-day for those who even partially know history. Everyone in Madrid knew of and regretted D. Carlos's mad conduct, and foreign Courts also knew of it, as in their dispatches Ambassadors hastened to send the information, which has enabled posterity to know and judge all these circumstances.

But, although D. Carlos's physical and moral defects were so well known, there was not a Princess in Europe then who would not have been very pleased to give her hand to the heir of the most powerful monarch in the world.

So the various Courts began to present their candidates, first Queen Catherine de Medicis, who proposed for the Prince of the Asturias her younger daughter Margaret de Valois, the celebrated Margot, afterwards Queen of Navarre. At that time the King of France, Francis II, died, and the Guises, always friendly to Philip II, proposed their niece, the recently widowed Mary Stuart, who was also Queen of Scotland in her own right.

The Court of Lisbon, on their part, proposed Princess Juana, and in this sense the great widowed Queen of Portugal, Do?a Catalina, wrote to D. Philip, with whom her opinion had much weight, as being grandmother of Prince Carlos and the only remaining sister of the Emperor, and a lady of such great virtues and talents. This alliance was also desired by the nation, as, although the difference in age between the nephew and the aunt was considerable, even this added to the great qualities of the Princess, who had done so well during her regency, and was considered to be a guarantee that her merit would supply the great deficiencies that they noted and feared in D. Carlos.

Last of all, but with great probabilities of success, the Emperor Maximilian of Austria suggested his granddaughter the Archduchess Do?a Ana.

Philip II received all these proposals with his usual reserve, neither accepting nor refusing, and, slowly studying them, gave or took away hopes as it suited his policy, but, as was usual in such cases, taking into consideration neither the tastes nor wishes of his son. But D. Carlos was not a man to have the wishes of others foisted on him, least of all those of his father; and, without considering them, resolved to act for himself. He asked for the portraits of the three Princesses, and, after having carefully examined them, he resolved to fall in love with his cousin the Archduchess Ana, and told everyone so, and even convinced himself. He was seen passing hours gazing at the portrait of the Archduchess, which he kept in his room in a round ebony box with silver mouldings.

D. Carlos laid his plans, and neither with the submission of a son nor the humility of a subject, but as from one power to another and as one who asks and demands in his own right, he announced to the King his wish to marry the Archduchess, and to be given the government of the States of Flanders.

Perhaps this was Philip's own idea, and whether because it was so, or whether to ingratiate himself with the Prince, or whether, as some say, D. Philip did not show the same determination face to face that he always did from afar, it is certain that he heard his son favourably, and promised at once to negotiate his marriage with the Archduchess, to accompany him to Flanders with the expedition which was preparing, and himself instruct his son in the manners and customs of that country.

Satisfied by this, D. Carlos wished to secure the success of his plan by a diplomatic stroke in his own way, which he did with so much haughty folly, that he displayed his incapacity for anything like prudence and government before the whole of Europe.

The Cortes of Castille had been convoked since the 1st of December of that year 1556, and the meetings were held in one of the rooms of the castle. On the 22nd of December Philip II, as usual, went to the Escorial for the Christmas festival, and D. Carlos availed himself of this absence to effect his stroke.

He therefore presented himself one morning, unexpectedly, at the meeting of the members, and, without any warning, preamble or announcement, said in a very angry, haughty way, "You must know that my father is thinking of going to Flanders, and I wish at all costs to accompany him. I know that at the last Cortes you had the impertinence to ask my father to marry me to the Princess, my aunt; I do not understand why you should interfere with my marriage, or that it matters to you whether my father marries me to one or the other. I do not wish that you should allow yourselves the fresh impertinence of asking my father to leave me in Spain, and I therefore forbid you to make such a petition, on the understanding that the member who does this will have me for a mortal enemy, and I will do all I can to ruin him."

Having said this, he ordered the members not to dare to say anything of this scene to the King, and he turned his back, leaving these worthy men astounded by his folly and insolence.

Grave disorders broke out in Flanders soon after, and the King put off his journey, sending on the Duque de Alba to pacify those States. The anger of Prince Carlos on hearing this knew no bounds, as he saw his plans in danger, and felt himself passed over, thinking in his heedless pride that, better than anyone, he could pacify the Low Countries.

The Duque de Alba could not help taking leave of the Prince when he went to kiss the King's hand at Aranjuez, where the Court then was.

But no sooner did D. Carlos see him come into the room, than he shouted out in a rage, that "he was not to go to Flanders, because it was his journey; that he should not do it, and if he contradicted he should be killed."

The Duke respectfully answered that the life of H.H. was too precious to expose on such an expedition, that he was only going first to pacify the States, that H.H. should then come and find himself on firm ground. But the Prince, blind with anger, drew out his dagger and threw himself on the Duke, crying out, "You are not to go to Flanders, or I must kill you." The Duke took hold of both his arms, and they joined in a struggle, until the Prince, overcome, fell back breathless. And as the Duke continued with his reasons, in order to calm him, the Prince, all at once, set on him again, this time treacherously, meaning to plunge his dagger in Alba's breast. The Duke held him, and the struggle began again, until the courtiers, this time attracted by the noise, separated them, taking hold of the furious Prince and allowing the Duke to retire.