CHAPTER IX
发布时间:2020-06-23 作者: 奈特英语
Four years before these events, in June, 1571, a little old, nervous and active Italian arrived in Madrid. He called himself Giulio Benasai, a merchant from Genoa; he stopped at an inn, near the gate of the Viper, now the Puerta Cerrada, and very early the next day began his visits, which were anything but commercial ones. He visited Monsignor Ormanetto, the Pope's Nuncio; Dr. Milio, governor, in the Duke's absence, of the Alba estates; the secretaries Zayas and Mateo Vázguez, and lastly, five days after his arrival, on the 28th, he visited the King, Philip II, at the Castle. This visit, however, was very different from the others, it was paid secretly at night, and once inside the Castle he no longer called himself Giulio Benasai, or a native of Genoa, or a merchant. His name was Roberto Ridolfi, a banker in London, and secret agent of His Holiness Pius V in that heretic country.
Ridolfi gave three letters, substantially alike, into Philip's own hands. These begged him to give Ridolfi his entire confidence, and to undertake what he would explain, granting all the resources he deemed prudent in order to further the enterprise. They were from no less personages than Pius V, the Queen of Scots, Mary Stuart, then a prisoner in England, and the third one from the Duke of Norfolk.
The project was this; to capture the heretic Queen of England, Elizabeth, and the lords of her Council, and shut them up in the Tower of London; to marry the lawful Queen, Mary Stuart, to the Duke of Norfolk, and in this way to re-establish Catholicism in England and Scotland. Philip's aid was sought for the plan, and they had already obtained the support of the most influential English lords and of Mary's partisans in Scotland, who were then numerous and powerful. The Pope had prepared the way by hurling his terrible Bull against Elizabeth, declaring her to be an obstinate heretic and an abettor of heresy, deposing her from the English throne and absolving her subjects from their oaths of fealty and obedience. He promised, moreover, all the funds that the Holy See had at its disposal.
For this enterprise the Duke of Norfolk asked the King of Spain for 6000 arquebusiers, 4000 arquebuses, 2000 cuirasses and 25 pieces of artillery, with the necessary money and ammunition. He promised, for his part, to raise in England 3000 horsemen and 2000 foot soldiers and to undertake the dangerous task of capturing the Queen and her Councillors and of setting Mary Stuart free. He also promised to remain on his estates in Norfolk, facing the coast of Holland, to protect the landing of the troops that the Duque de Alba was to send from Flanders. The Duque had talked to Ridolfi in Brussels and approved of the plan, with certain reservations, and even thought it an easy one, once Elizabeth was either captured or dead; he waited, however, for the orders and consent of his Sovereign.
Philip II listened to Ridolfi with his usual reserve and caution, and sent him to the Escorial, where the Duque de Feria examined him at length, and where an important council was held on the 7th of July, the minutes of which are preserved in the archives at Simancas. They all approved of the plan and agreed to order its prompt execution by the Duque de Alba. But such was the slowness of Philip in settling the details and such was his indecision about dictating the last orders, that time was given for Norfolk to be denounced, tried, and publicly beheaded in London.
It was this scheme, ruined by the death of Norfolk, which Gregory XIII wished to resuscitate. He sent another Bull, similar to the one of Pius V, giving the sovereignty of England to her legitimate Queen, Mary Stuart, and marrying her to D. John of Austria, who was to command the Spanish hosts which were to invade England. The Pope had already consulted the English and Scotch lords and other magnates who were willing to support Norfolk's movement, and they undertook to perform all that they had previously promised to the unhappy Duke. To reinstate the plan in the same advantageous position it had held in the days of Pius V only the consent and help of Philip and D. John were lacking. At his interview at Gaeta with Jacobo Boncompagni D. John enthusiastically gave his consent, subject to his brother's will, which was for him an unbreakable law. But Philip, on his part, received the proposal coldly when it was unfolded to him in the name of Gregory XIII by the Nuncio Ormanetto; he very courteously thanked the Pope for the favour shown to his brother, but excused himself from helping the enterprise because of the necessity there was of concentrating large armies in Italy for fear of the Turk, who had been heartened by the triumph of Tunis, and in Flanders where the rebels were also encouraged by the departure of the Duque de Alba. And as the Nuncio argued, pointing out the truth so well known to the politicians of the day, that the focus of the rebellion had to be stamped out, not in Flanders, but in England, where the Queen was always stirring it up and helping the rebels in every way, D. Philip answered that this was true and that he knew it full well; but that all the same he could not remove a single pike from Flanders until the new policy of gentleness and reconciliation, which he had entrusted to the Knight Commander Requesens, had taken effect. Then he would consider whether or no the expedition to England would suit him.
Philip gave his brother the same answer when they treated of the circumstance, adding other reasons, all tending to bind D. John tighter to his service, without disappointing him or at once dissipating the dreams he might have woven round such a romantic plan as conquering a kingdom by setting a beautiful captive queen at liberty, which must have appealed so strongly to D. John's chivalrous fancy. So D. Philip promised, without any intention of fulfilling it, according to Antonio Pérez, or as we think, meaning to do so if it suited the plans of his policy to favour Gregory's scheme when the danger of a fresh war with the Turk, which then threatened, was over.
And as if to bring D. John down from the sphere of heroic ideas, where genius usually dwells, to the petty weaknesses among which most mortals struggle, in the next line the King spoke of what in certain ways was the only thing which could humiliate and shame D. John, and which embittered his life—the conduct of his mother—which had reached such a pitch that no one frequented her house but low persons, among whom was an Englishman, supposed to be on too intimate terms with her. The Duque de Alba, who, though severe, was not straitlaced, had upbraided her without success several times, and, tired out, had decided to write the following letter to the secretary Zayas:
"Very magt. Sir. An affair is taking place here which much troubles me, because I have tried by every means to remedy it, without success, and it has reached such lengths, that it would be well if H.M. should quickly cure it. You will be doing me a favour to tell H.M. that the mother of D. John lives with so much liberty, in a manner so unlike that in which the mother of such a son should live, that it is necessary to put a stop to it, as the affair is so public and so free and open that they tell me that no honourable woman will enter her doors. Things have come to such a pass that they are changing the servants every week, and in my absence she has gone so far, that most days there are dances and banquets. She has turned out the two honourable old spinsters I placed near her and has filled their places with low women. She is dreadful and very obstinate. His Majesty will order what he wills, I had resolved to take her by night and put her in a convent, but I did not like to do so without first consulting him."
D. Philip answered the Duque de Alba by the following letter written in cipher.
"The King.
"Duke and Cousin. Cayas has shown me the letter you wrote about my brother D. John's mother, which, for reasons you mention and enter into, grieves me much, because she does not live with seemly modesty and respectability; and it appears to me, as it does to you, that the only thing to do is to bring her here, and her son is also of the same opinion, to whom I have sent Juan de Soto, to say I have done it for her welfare, these States being in the condition they are, without saying more, as there was no need to do so, and, as I understand the journey is to be by sea, if they were to tell her beforehand, it is very likely that she would do something foolish; it would be well to keep her in the dark until a safe ship is found, and then, everything being ready and the weather fine, to put her on board, whether she likes it or not, with a suitable retinue, giving orders that everything necessary for the journey should be provided, and that during it she should be well treated. Let me know in time, that she may be met at the port, and from there taken to the nearest and most suitable convent, which I have not yet decided on."
It was not the first time that the brothers had talked about this painful subject; but now D. John knew all, without palliation or reserve. D. Philip told him in wise and tactful words, like a kind surgeon, who, without wishing to pain, probes a wound, and suggested the remedy like a father who discusses a sad family matter. As there was no other way, they determined to remove Barbara Blombergh from Flanders by deceiving her, and to bring her to Spain, where, by D. John's proposal, she should be given into the charge of Do?a Magdalena de Ulloa, that this noble lady should settle her in her own proximity, wherever, in her prudence, discretion and charity, she deemed best. This idea appeared an excellent one to D. Philip, and a few days later D. John set out for Abrojo, where Do?a Magdalena was expecting him.
Never had the mourning figure seemed so dignified to him, or had he found such sweet and deep repose in her company, or thought that he saw in her still beautiful eyes such intense love, such maternal solicitude, or such tender grace as when she showed him the big coffers of linen which she had ready for him, neckties of Flemish point which she herself tried on, and the full starched ruffs, very full as she knew that he liked them.
And it was his yearning for a mother, exasperated by the disillusion about his own parent, that was comforted by the pure love and great virtues of that other whom a merciful Heaven had sent to him. D. John stayed four days at Abrojo, confiding everything that was on his mind to Do?a Magdalena, joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, triumphs and disappointments, errors and repentances; and when she said good-bye at the convent door, she thought, as she did the first time she saw him on the staircase of Villagarcia, "It is a pity he is not really my son!" And he said to himself with infinite bitterness, as he kissed her hand for the last time, "It is a pity that she is not really my mother."
D. John left Abrojo with the profound regret and vague mistrust that a wanderer feels who sets out on the desert sand after a day's rest in an oasis. A friendly voice, however, encouraged him all that day, telling him that a glorious future was his, if he fought with firmness and waited with patience, which is the advice constancy gives that fiery activity should achieve its purpose: that Gregory XIII's idea was certain to be realised because it was great and just, and easy and feasible, and in the end he would share the throne with the hitherto unfortunate Queen of Scots; the England of D. John and the Spain of Philip being the two strong pillars of the Holy Catholic Church.
He who spoke thus to D. John was Escovedo, whom Philip had commissioned to moderate D. John's ambitious thoughts. And the most strange thing is that Escovedo was clever and honest and was talking seriously.
上一篇: CHAPTER VIII
下一篇: CHAPTER X