BUT it was time now for Philip to think of the reception of his new child-wife, whom Alba had married as his proxy in Paris five months before. Endless questions of etiquette had to be settled, political arrangements had to be made in Paris that should ensure to Philip the full benefit of the marriage, the bribing of ministers and the like; and it was far into the winter before the bride started from Paris, which she was to see no more. She was the flower of a bad flock, the most dearly beloved of any of her house, and her slow journey through France was a triumphal march. The splendid court in which her life had been passed was very dear to her, and she expected but little happiness in the rich squalor and rigid grimness of her husband’s palace. She was going, she knew, to be handed over like a chattel to the enemy of her country, but she kept up a brave heart, and daily wrote cheerful letters to her mother. So great was the distrust between the two countries that the most elaborate precautions were taken on both sides to prevent surprise or treachery, and Elizabeth was kept for three days in the snow at Roncesvalles whilst Anthony de Bourbon was bickering with the Spaniards as to which frontier should be crossed first. Philip was not a very eager bridegroom this time, for he advanced no farther than Guadalajara to meet his wife (January 30, 1560). The poor child was so nervous when she first approached him, that she could only stare dumbly at his grave face, and made no sign of obeisance. Philip looked older than his thirty-three years, and doubtless read her dismay aright. His first rough greeting was, “What are you looking at? Are you looking to see whether my hair is grey?” But his gentleness soon came back, and, unpromising as was the commencement, their married life was not unhappy. He proved to be a most affectionate and devoted husband, as she was a sweet and tactful wife.

He soon had an opportunity of showing his devotion. No sooner had the marriage ceremony been performed in the cathedral of Toledo than the queen fell ill of smallpox, and in this crisis her husband’s care and tenderness to her were unremitting. Regardless of the remonstrances of those who feared for his own health, he was frequently by her side for long periods, and all through her tardy and critical convalescence his attentions and kindness were such as to excite the admiration even of the queen’s French ladies, who were certainly not prejudiced in Philip’s favour.

Very much depended upon preserving the life, and even the beauty, of the young queen. After years of neglect Catharine de Medici might now, by the death of her husband, Henry II., become practically the ruler of France. She found the country reft in twain by religious faction, and she knew that the only means by which she could retain her power was by establishing herself as the balancing influence between the two factions. For the moment, with the accession of Francis II. and his wife, Mary, Queen of Scots, to the French throne, the Guises were paramount, and almost before the inauguration of the new policy of friendship between France and Spain, Catharine had begun to cast her eyes towards VendÔme, the Montmorencis and the Protestants to counterbalance them. The idea of Henry II. in giving his daughter to Philip was to cement a league of Catholics against the Huguenots; his widow’s aim was to secure a hold over Philip through his wife which should enable her to establish and retain her supremacy in France, come what might. The Guises had soon shown their power on the accession of their nephew to the throne by assuming in Mary Stuart’s name so aggressive an attitude towards Elizabeth that the latter was forced to resent it. An English force of 8000 infantry, 2000 cavalry, and 32 armed ships was sent to Scotland and attacked Leith, aided by a considerable Scottish rebel force. Opposed to them the Queen-mother of Scotland, Mary of Lorraine, had 5000 Frenchmen and a number of Scotsmen. Guise clamoured for Philip’s help to beat the English in the interests of his niece. But this was no part of Philip’s bargain. The most untoward thing that could happen to him was the deposition of Elizabeth and the union of England and Scotland under a French sovereign, and the next most inconvenient thing was that Elizabeth should be victorious over his allies, the French. So he exerted every effort to frighten both sides into making a peace. Envoys were sent from Flanders and Spain to assure Elizabeth that if she did not withdraw her troops from Scotland he would send a great force to help the French, whilst the Guises were significantly told that they must be cautious, as their enemies in France were numerous. Philip’s envoys in England might threaten, but Elizabeth knew well that Spanish troops would never put a Frenchman in her place, and she made the most of her knowledge. The English troops in Scotland were victorious, and Elizabeth now could afford to hector about the terms of peace. She wanted Calais to be restored, a large indemnity, and much else, but she ended by accepting terms which humiliated the Guises, and ensured her against future French aggression from Scotland.

Materially the peace of Cateau Cambresis had been all in Philip’s favour, but he had hoped for advantages in other ways as well. The original idea had been to present a united front to advancing Protestantism both in France and Flanders, to which end he had hoped to make a tool of France. But the death of Henry II. and the appearance of Catharine de Medici in front of the stage had changed the problem. He now saw a clever intriguing woman, with no religious convictions at all, ready to rally to either party, and seeking to make a tool of him. This was a rÔle that never suited Philip, and he soon made it clear that his marriage with a French princess had drawn him no closer to French interests than he was before. Frenchmen suspected of heresy in Spain were persecuted with greater barbarity than ever by the Inquisition. French commercial interests were as ruthlessly disregarded as those of Protestant England itself, whilst the French expeditions to Florida and elsewhere aroused Philip to the utmost point of arrogance against his wife’s country. A bitter feud between the Spanish and French ambassadors in Rome on the point of precedence appears to have been directly fomented by Philip. The influence, therefore, of Philip’s young French wife had to be exerted to its utmost to prevent an open rupture between her brother and her husband.

Suddenly the whole prospect was again changed by the death of Francis II. There was no fear now of the French nation becoming dominant in Scotland and England through Mary Stuart, for Catharine de Medici hated her daughter-in-law and the Guises, and would not raise a finger to make them more powerful than they were. But the death of Francis made more difficult than ever a lasting and sincere alliance between Spain and France, for Catharine de Medici could not afford to adopt for long an extreme Catholic policy. Philip at this time was in the very depth of penury. Every ducat that could be extorted from the Seville merchants or borrowed from the Fuggers had been obtained. The revenues and remittances from the Indies had long been anticipated, the Spanish troops in Flanders were unpaid, and Philip was surrounded by claims that he could not meet. Under these circumstances he was fain to shut his eyes for a time to the favour Catharine was showing to the reformers in France, although he allowed his wife to threaten her with Spanish troops to help the Catholic party in France if necessary. Catharine knew that his hands were full, and practically defied him, and Elizabeth of England did the same. He was powerless to injure them now, for his system of jealous centralisation and his cumbrous methods were already producing their disastrous effects.

The first misfortune, one of the greatest of his life, which resulted from the confusion of his administration, was the complete destruction of his fleet in the Mediterranean. When in 1558 the pope and Henry II. had not hesitated to accept the aid of the infidel against Philip, a hundred Turkish galleys had sailed from Constantinople under Piali Pacha, an Italian renegade, and, with the aid of the famous Barbary corsair, Dragut Reis, had scourged the coasts of Sicily and Naples, overrun Minorca, and even attacked Nice, and then had captured the fortress of Tripoli, which belonged to the Knights of St. John of Malta. When peace was made between France and Spain at Cateau Cambresis in the following year, the Grand Master of St. John urged Philip to employ the large force he then had free in Italy and elsewhere to recover Tripoli for the Order. The enterprise, he said, would be easy now, if it were done swiftly and secretly, for Dragut, who governed the new conquest, was busy raiding the interior, and the Barbary Moors, groaning under the yoke of the Turk, would aid the Christians. Philip’s viceroy in Sicily, the Duke of Medina Celi, anxious for personal distinction, seconded the petition of the Grand Master, and Philip consented. Medina Celi was appointed to the command, and orders were given to Andrea Doria, commanding the Spanish galleys, and to the viceroys of Naples and Milan, to aid the expedition with all the forces in their power. The Turkish fleet was, however, still in the neighbourhood, and the viceroys did not think prudent to send any of their troops away until it had gone. Delay after delay took place whilst dispatches were slowly being exchanged and Philip continually being consulted on points of detail. The men-at-arms in large numbers broke up and went to their homes, and when at last the troops were got together and reached Genoa, they found that the Spanish ambassador there had dismissed the ships that had been freighted, in the belief that the expedition had been abandoned. Then when fresh ships had been obtained the soldiers refused to go on board until they received their over-due pay. With much persuasion and many promises they were at length embarked, and a shipload of them, 1500 in number, was wrecked at the mouth of the harbour, causing renewed delay. Then it was found that the aged Andrea Doria could not accompany the ships, and had delegated the command to his nephew, John Andrea, under whom some of the Spanish generals would not serve. But withal, by the beginning of October 1559, 12,000 good troops were mustered in Messina under Medina Celi. The Grand Master had originally, six months before, made promptness and secrecy conditions of success, but long ere this all the Mediterranean was ringing with the news, and Dragut was on the alert. Whilst Philip was tardily sending cautious dispatches to his viceroys, the Sultan had crowded men, ammunition, and stores into Tripoli, and when after two months’ further delay the Spanish force was ready to sail, it was found that the rascally contractors had provided rations which were mostly rotten—just as they did to the Invincible Armada thirty years afterwards. When finally the fleet sailed (November 20, 1559) the men were sick and discontented, 3000 of them having already died or deserted. Many of the soldiers mutinied the first day. Head winds and want of food held them for weeks, and it was January 10, 1560, before the fleet was assembled at Malta. There fresh men had to be shipped to fill the places of those who had died, and sound rations procured, and finally, on February 10, 1560, the fleet, 100 sail and a contingent of galleys and men belonging to the Knights, left Malta. The small island of Gelves, in the Gulf of Khabes, was easily captured, but the next day there appeared a fleet of 74 great Turkish galleys full of janissaries, and 12 others under Dragut from Tripoli. Medina Celi lost his head, Doria lost his courage, and a hideous panic seized the Spaniards at the onslaught of the Turks. The commanders fled shamefully, and 65 ships and 5000 men fell to the tender mercies of the infidel. The Spaniards entrenched on the island of Gelves under the brave Alvaro de Sande, held out against terrible odds, 8000 men of them almost without provisions, quite without water, for six weeks, and then all that were left of them, about 1000, starved and naked, stood shoulder to shoulder in the breach to be killed by the victors or carried to Constantinople to a less worthy fate.

The Christian power in the Mediterranean was tottering; the fortresses held by Spain in North Africa especially seemed doomed to destruction, and Philip was forced to make a supreme effort, and was able in the next year, 1561, to send out a fresh fleet of 70 galleys, nearly all hired, to fight the Turk. The whole fleet was lost in a storm before it left the coast of Spain, and the Turk once more seemed destined to dominate the Mediterranean. The defence of the Spanish settlement of Mers el Kebir in the spring of 1563 will always remain one of the most heroic in history. There a little garrison of barely 200 men held out against a Turkish force of 20,000, and although they were almost within sight of the Spanish coast, so cumbrous was Philip’s administration that it took two months for relief to reach them.