1621-43]

The policy of Olivares

655

his life was left him, the fallen favourite was stripped of his wealth, and died mad two years and a half after his disgrace.

There were few who had a good word for Olivares; for, with the exception of the Count de La Roca, those who wrote his history were his bitter foes, and his haughty irascibility made him detested personally by high and low. But he was able and laborious, and if he failed, as he did, it was not so much because his ideal in home politics was a bad one, as because it was an impracticable one at the time. His real fault was one that he shared with his countrymen at large; namely, the obstinate clinging to the old boastful tradition of Spain's right and power to interfere in the religious affairs of other countries, and to play a predominant part in European politics. The ruin which mistaken political economy had wrought in Spanish industry and national resources rendered it impossible for Castile to pay for such a policy as was favoured, not by Olivares alone, but by most Spaniards; and the desire of Olivares to obtain as free a hand over the other autonomous parliaments as had been obtained over that of Castile, was a statesmanlike consequence of this unstatesmanlike policy.

To obtain funds for this disastrous system of widely-diffused activity in foreign affairs on the part of a nation economically and socially decadent, not only was Spain itself exposed to the danger of disintegration, but the vast American colonies were driven to desperation. The exactions of the greedy courtiers, who alone were eligible for posts in the Spanish possessions, the exclusion of foreigners from trade with the colonies, and the stoppage of all commercial relations between the mother-country and the countries at war with it, which provided most of the goods for American consumption that Spaniards had ceased to produce, resulted in a systematic evasion by the colonists of their obligations towards Spain. Contraband, on a scale so extensive as in some directions to exceed legitimate trade, deprived the mother-country of the revenue to be derived from its possessions. The mines, it is true, continued to send the precious metals to Spain, and the King's fifth share of the value added on paper to the revenue accruing to him. But even this wealth, diminished as it was by plunder and capture, hardly gained any currency in the Peninsula, since it was forestalled in most cases by loans contracted abroad for the payment and supply of troops, and added nothing to the national riches; whereas the supply of commodities to the colonies from Spanish industry would have provided a means of productive wealth to the people and taxable resources to the government. The policy of bombastic inflation favoured by all Spaniards at the time thus worked in a vicious circle. The pressing need for money to carry it out caused provincial discontent and the increase of expenditure for provincial wars, and at the same time the stoppage of provincial revenue; the exactions and restrictions burdening colonial trade drove the colonies to wholesale contraband, whereby the national revenue from trade with

656

Neapolitan discontent

[1643-7 them was lost; and in Castile itself the need for quickly realisable taxation led, as we have seen, to the burdening of transactions in food and manufactures, which strangled both rural and urban industries.

Holland, Catalonia, and Portugal had all been alienated by the attempts to weaken or destroy their autonomous liberties and fiscal independence; and the Italian possessions of Spain were as tenacious of their rights as the rest. Again and again, under one pretext or another, the Neapolitans had rebelled against their masters; usually with the countenance of the French, whose old claims to the country had never been forgotten. Sometimes the cause of discontent had been the Spanish Inquisition, sometimes the unpopularity of Viceroys, sometimes the oppression of the poorer classes by the native nobles; but a more frequent excitant than any had been the exactions of the Spanish officers, and the tampering with the value of the coinage, a favourite device both of Lerma and Olivares. The Neapolitan Parliament of nobles and burgesses had, like the Cortes of Castile, lost its vigour under the corruption of the Spanish Viceroys, and the classes had been systematically alienated from each other. The poorer part of the population were helpless against injustice and extortion, since the Parliament and aristocracy were either powerless or antagonistic, and the only possible remedy for intolerable oppression was violence. The constant exactions both of men and money from Naples for the Spanish wars, and for the enrichment of Spanish officials, had kept the Neapolitans in simmering discontent for years; and the sight of Catalonia and Portugal in open revolt could not but act as a stimulus.

In the course of the war between France and Spain, which had never ceased, Mazarin, who had succeeded Richelieu, sent a squadron to seize some of the Spanish fortresses on the Tuscan coast, with the aid of Prince Tommaso of Savoy, in May, 1646. The Duke of Arcos, the Spanish Viceroy of Naples, knowing the disaffection of the people, and recognising the danger of the vicinity of a French force, applied to the city of Naples for a forced loan to enable him to resist invasion, which the French now threatened from Elba, where they had captured a position. The only thing remaining to be taxed in Naples was fruit, the principal food of the poorest; and the new impost upon it caused widespread distress. The people were well-nigh starving; Arcos was appealed to in vain. When, however, on the other side of the Straits the Sicilians broke into revolt against a similar tax in the spring of 1647, the Neapolitan Viceroy in a panic abolished the objectionable excise. Arcos was short of troops in the city, and the weakness of his action following upon his tyranny gave heart to the Neapolitans. The populace, unaided by the better classes, broke into insurrection on July 7, 1647. The cry was suddenly raised in the market-place that a tax upon the fruit was after all to be levied; and led by a young fisherman of Amalfi,

1647]

The revolt of Naples.

Masaniello

657

Tommaso Aniello, popularly known as Masaniello, the rabble swept through the streets, burning the excise stands, and swarmed into the palace of the Viceroy in uncontrollable numbers. Arcos lost courage and promised all he was asked, but incontinently fled, first to the monastery of San Francesco, and afterwards to the Castel Nuovo, leaving the mob the rulers of Naples. There was no general massacre at first; and, although the gaols were broken open, the armouries sacked, and a few specially oppressive Spaniards hanged, there was no anger expressed against the King of Spain's rule, but only against the abuses of his officers.

Arcos was weak as well as powerless, and for his personal safety fraternised with the leaders of the revolt. The lack of restraining influences and the collapse of the Spaniards soon had their effect, and the people got out of hand. First petty robbery, then pillage, arson, rapine, and murder, became rife. The thirst for blood seized the excited people, and massacre for cruelty's sake alone wrought them to increasing fury. Masaniello's head was turned, and mad with vanity and drink he gave himself the airs of a sovereign. His excesses turned many of his adherents against him, and the Viceroy contrived by bribery to divide the populace; the result being that, in order to escape a faction opposed to him- Neapolitan plebeians in Spanish pay- Masaniello took refuge in a church, throwing himself upon the protection of the authorities. While the leader of the revolt rested in a cell of the adjoining monastery, a band of his persecutors called him by name. Stepping forth from the cell to the cloisters, Masaniello, believing that those who called were friends, answered, "You seek me? Here am I, my people." In a moment four bullets pierced his breast, and, with a cry of "Ingrates!" the insurgent chief sank dead. From the cloister his dead body was dragged through the streets with contumely, only to be almost worshipped the next day: and the leader of one week became the martyr and the saint of the next. At length a patrician, Prince Massa, won the adherence of the mob, and some sort of revolutionary order was established. On October 1, 1647, the watchers on Santelmo saw a fine Spanish fleet sail into the Bay. Philip had chosen his brilliant and beloved legitimised son Don Juan of Austria for the suppression of

the revolt, and his advent gave new hopes to the Spaniards.

While Don Juan, in coöperation with the garrison and a party of the Neapolitan nobles, was endeavouring to win back the populace, another faction invited to Naples Henry Duke of Guise, whose House, through their Anjou ancestors, had ancient claims upon the Neapolitan monarchy. The Duke of Guise suddenly appeared in the city at the end of November, and at first took the hearts of the populace by storm. All the power of the French nation, thought the leaders, would now be on their side, and the belief was confirmed when a strong French fleet appeared in the offing. Guise was offered, and accepted, the position of Doge of an independent Naples, and for a few weeks all looked hopeful.

C. M. H. IV.

42

658

The revolt of Naples suppressed

[1643-8 But the Duke was unwise, and offended his supporters by his hauteur; and the French fleet did nothing effective to help him. It was evident that Guise alone could never maintain his independence. Mazarin, indeed, had no wish to employ national resources in aggrandising a subject House, and the French fleet had other work to do. The revolt had been dwindling by division since the death of Masaniello, and after drawing away Guise and his followers by a feint to Posilipo, Don Juan captured the city by a coup de main in February, 1648, the popular government of Naples being thus brought to an end, amidst cheers of "Viva il Ré!" from the mob, who yearned again for a real master.

Personal and national troubles fell thick and fast upon Philip. The loss of Olivares, upon whom he had leaned so long, was terrible to him. Conquering his desire for idleness, he resolved for once to act the King, "without human means," as he wrote, "but depending solely upon the Divine help, resolved to fulfil my duty as King, regardless of weariness" and in pursuit of this resolve he travelled again, in 1643, to Aragon to animate a new attack against Catalonia. On his way he was induced to visit, in her convent at Agreda, the famous saintly nun Maria, upon whose wise and patient counsel he was thenceforward to depend in all things, and to whom alone in the world he bared his seared and suffering heart. While Philip was with his army in 1643, his new-born activity and assumption of responsibility had resulted in his gaining considerable advantages over the French and Catalans; and his forces had, under his personal command, recaptured Lerida from La Motte.

In 1644, when still in Saragossa, he was suddenly recalled to Madrid by the fatal illness of his wife, who died, to his great grief, before his arrival, September 28. She had been beloved by his people, and perhaps by himself, for, notwithstanding his unfaithfulness, she had borne him many children, of whom only two lived, Baltasar and Maria Teresa; and nearly two months after her death he wrote: "I am in the greatest state of trouble that can be, for I have lost in one person all I can lose in this life and if I did not feel that God disposes for the best I know not what would become of me." His principal solace now was Prince Baltasar, the sturdy youngster with whose appearance Velasquez' brush has made us so familiar. Anxious to indoctrinate him early in the science of government Philip carried the lad with him to Saragossa to receive the oath of allegiance from the Aragonese and Valencian Cortes in the autumn of 1645. Once again the independent Cortes were stiff in their demands, but this time Philip had no obstinate Olivares by his side, and, though with grief and hesitation, he was obliged to give way with regard to the power of the Inquisition in Aragon. Whilst the King was at Saragossa in October, 1646, his son fell ill. The grief-stricken father almost rebelled against Heaven at the prospect of losing him,

1643-56]

Philip's and Spain's troubles

659

but prayer consoled him, and when the boy died (October 9) Philip wrote: "I have lost my only son, whose presence alone comforted me in my sorrows. My consolation is that I feel God wishes to save me through these tribulations. . . . All I could do was to offer up this last blow as a sacrifice to Him, though it has broken my heart, and I know not yet whether it is not a dream."

Spain, like her King, was drinking the cup of sorrow to the dregs. The war in Germany went on without intermission, while Catalonia still drained the national resources to the utmost. The war with France on the Flemish frontier never ceased, and Spain had now really reached the end of her resources. At length, to the relief of the world, the Treaty was signed at Münster in January, 1648, which secured the recognition of Dutch independence by Spain, after an eighty years' struggle against the inevitable. The bitter truth was now confessed, but too late to save Spain; the dream of dominating Holland for the sake of the Catholic faith was dead. Spain thenceforward would not be needed to fight for the Emperor against his Protestant subjects, and, now that she was useless to him, she found herself without allies face to face with France.

With a little further sacrifice of pride on the part of Spain peace might, perhaps, have been made after the deaths of Louis XIII and Richelieu had placed Anne of Austria in power as Regent for her son Louis XIV; but the lesson was hard to learn, and Melo, who had succeeded as Viceroy of Flanders, on the death of the Infante Ferdinand, had won some successes against the French. In May, 1643, however, young Condé gained over him the victory of Rocroi, which broke the spell surrounding that indomitable Spanish infantry whose valour and skill had made the Spanish empire. Thenceforward Spain was as decadent in land warfare as at sea. But still the war with France dragged on. Some attempts to patch up a peace were made in 1649; but the Spanish claims that France should surrender all her conquests doomed them to failure. Mazarin's political troubles at home, however, were paralysing him also, and the bewildering changes of side of the great French generals, Turenne and Condé in particular, caused them temporarily to take the Spanish side against their own countrymen. The divisions in France were busily fomented by Spain, the aid of Condé brought some success to the Spanish arms in Flanders; and in the battle of Valenciennes he and Don Juan of Austria defeated Turenne (July, 1656). Moreover, friendly relations had sprung up between the English Commonwealth and Philip. The French, notwithstanding the relationship of the royal family with the Stewarts, had bid high for Cromwell's friendship; but for several years after the execution of Charles the Spanish connexion had been preferred by the English Protector. Cromwell's demands upon Spain in return for an alliance had included the right to trade in the Spanish American colonies, the limitation of