CALDERON, THE COURTIER
BY
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON
CALDERON, THE COURTIER.
A TALE.
CHAPTER I.
THE ANTE-CHAMBER.
The Tragi-Comedy of Court Intrigue, which had ever found its principal
theatre in Spain since the accession of the House of Austria to the
throne, was represented with singular complication of incident and
brilliancy of performance during the reign of Philip the Third. That
monarch, weak, indolent, and superstitious, left the reins of government
in the hands of the Duke of Lerma. The Duke of Lerma, in his turn, mild,
easy, ostentatious, and shamefully corrupt, resigned the authority he had
thus received to Roderigo Calderon, an able and resolute upstart, whom
nature and fortune seemed equally to favour and endow. But, not more to
his talents, which were great, than to the policy of religious
persecution which he had supported and enforced, Roderigo Calderon owed
his promotion. The King and the Inquisition had, some years before our
story opens, resolved upon the general expulsion of the Moriscos the
wealthiest, the most active, the most industrious portion of the
population.
"I would sooner," said the bigoted king--and his words were hallowed by
the enthusiasm of the Church--"depopulate my kingdom than suffer it to
harbour a single infidel." The Duke de Lerma entered into the scheme
that lost to Spain many of her most valuable subjects, with the zeal of
a pious Catholic expectant of the Cardinal's hat, which he afterwards
obtained. But to this scheme Calderon brought an energy, a decision, a
vehemence, and sagacity of hatred, that savoured more of personal
vengeance than religious persecution. His perseverance in this good work
established him firmly in the king's favour; and in this he was supported
by the friendship not only of Lerma, but of Fray Louis de Aliaga, a
renowned Jesuit, and confessor to the king. The disasters and distresses
occasioned by this barbarous crusade, which crippled the royal revenues,
and seriously injured the estates of the principal barons, from whose
lands the industrious and intelligent Moriscos were expelled, ultimately
concentred a deep and general hatred upon Calderon. But his
extraordinary address and vigorous energies, his perfect mastery of the
science of intrigue, not only sustained, but continued to augment, his
power. Though the king was yet in the prime of middle age, his health
was infirm and his life precarious. Calderon had contrived, while
preserving the favour of the reigning monarch, to establish himself as
the friend and companion of the heir apparent. In this, indeed, he had
affected to yield to the policy of the king himself; for Philip the Third
had a wholesome terror of the possible ambition of his son, who early
evinced talents which might have been formidable, but for passions which
urged him into the most vicious pleasures and the most extravagant
excesses. The craft of the king was satisfied by the device of placing
about the person of the Infant one devoted to himself; nor did his
conscience, pious as he was, revolt at the profligacy which his favourite
was said to participate, and, perhaps, to encourage; since the less
popular the prince, the more powerful the king.
But all this while there was formed a powerful cabal against both the
Duke of Lerma and Don Roderigo Calderon in a quarter where it might least
have been anticipated. The cardinal-duke, naturally anxious to cement
and perpetuate his authority, had placed his son, the Duke d'Uzeda, in a
post that gave him constant access to the monarch. The prospect of power
made Uzeda eager to seize at once upon all its advantages; and it became
the object of his life to supplant his father. This would have been easy
enough but for the genius and vigilance of Calderon, whom he hated as a
rival, disdained as an upstart, and dreaded as a foe. Philip was soon
aware of the contest between the two factions, but, in the true spirit of
Spanish kingcraft he took care to play one against the other. Nor could
Calderon, powerful as he was, dare openly to seek the ruin of Uzeda;
while Uzeda, more rash, and, perhaps, more ingenuous, entered into a
thousand plots for the downfall of the prime favourite.
The frequent missions, principally into Portugal, in which of late
Calderon had been employed, had allowed Uzeda to encroach more and more
upon the royal confidence; while the very means which Don Roderigo had
adopted to perpetuate his influence, by attaching himself to the prince,
necessarily distracted his attention from the intrigues of his rival.
Perhaps, indeed, the greatness of Calderon's abilities made him too
arrogantly despise the machinations of the duke, who, though not without
some capacities as a courtier, was wholly incompetent to those duties of
a minister on which he had set his ambition and his grasp.
Such was the state of parties in the Court of Philip the Third at the
time in which we commence our narrative in the ante-chamber of Don
Roderigo Calderon.
"It is not to be endured," said Don Felix de Castro, an old noble, whose
sharp features and diminutive stature proclaimed the purity of his blood
and the antiquity of his descent.
"Just three-quarters of an hour and five minutes have I waited for
audience to a fellow who would once have thought himself honoured if I
had ordered him to call my coach," said Don Diego Sarmiento de Mendo.
"Then, if it chafe you so much, gentlemen, why come you here at all? I
dare say Don Roderigo can dispense with your attendance."
This was said bluntly by a young noble of good mien, whose impetuous and
irritable temperament betrayed itself by an impatience of gesture and
motion unusual amongst his countrymen. Sometimes he walked, with uneven
strides, to and fro the apartments, unheeding the stately groups whom he
jostled, or the reproving looks that he attracted; sometimes he paused
abruptly, raised his eyes, muttered, twitched his cloak, or played with
his sword-knot; or, turning abruptly round upon his solemn neighbours, as
some remark on his strange bearing struck his ear, brought the blood to
many a haughty cheek by his stern gaze of defiance and disdain. It was
easy to perceive that this personage belonged to the tribe--rash, vain,
and young--who are eager to take offence, and to provoke quarrel.
Nevertheless, the cavalier had noble and great qualities. A stranger to
courts, in the camp he was renowned for a chivalrous generosity and an
extravagant valour, that emulated the ancient heroes of Spanish romaunt
and song. His was a dawn that promised a hot noon and a glorious eve.
The name of this brave soldier was Martin Fonseca. He was of an ancient
but impoverished house, and related in a remote degree to the Duke de
Lerma. In his earliest youth he had had cause to consider himself the
heir to a wealthy uncle on his mother's side; and with those
expectations, while still but a boy, he had been invited to court by
the cardinal-duke. Here, however, the rude and blunt sincerity of his
bearing had so greatly shocked the formal hypocrisies of the court, and
had more than once so seriously offended the minister, that his powerful
kinsman gave up all thought of pushing Fonseca's fortunes at Madrid, and
meditated some plausible excuse for banishing him from court. At this
time the rich uncle, hitherto childless, married a second time, and was
blessed with an heir. It was no longer necessary to keep terms with Don
Martin; and he suddenly received an order to join the army on the
frontiers. Here his courage soon distinguished him; but his honest
nature still stood in the way of his promotion. Several years elapsed,
and his rise had been infinitely slower than that of men not less
inferior to him in birth than merit. Some months since, he had repaired
to Madrid to enforce his claims upon the government; but instead of
advancing his suit, he had contrived to effect a serious breach with the
cardinal, and been abruptly ordered back to the camp. Once more he
appeared at Madrid; but this time it was not to plead desert and demand
honours.
In any country but Spain under the reign of Philip the Third, Martin
Fonseca would have risen early to high fortunes. But, as we have said,
his talents were not those of the flatterer or the hypocrite; and it was
a matter of astonishment to the calculators round him to see Don Martin
Fonseca in the ante-room of Roderigo Calderon, Count Oliva, Marquis de
Siete Iglesias, secretary to the King, and parasite and favourite of the
Infant of Spain.
"Why come you here at all?" repeated the young soldier.
"Senor," answered Don Felix de Castro, with great gravity, "we have
business with Don Roderigo. Men of our station must attend to the
affairs of the state, no matter by whom transacted."
"That is, you must crawl on your knees to ask for pensions and
governorships, and transact the affairs of the state by putting your
hands into its coffers."
"Senor!" growled Don Felix, angrily, as his hand played with his sword-
belt.
"Tush!" said the young man, scornfully turning on his heel.
The folding-doors were thrown open, and all conversation ceased at the
entrance of Don Roderigo Calderon.
This remarkable personage had risen from the situation of a confidential
scribe to the Duke of Lerma to the nominal rank of secretary to the King
--to the real station of autocrat of Spain. The birth of the favourite
of fortune was exceedingly obscure. He had long affected to conceal it;
but when he found curiosity had proceeded into serious investigation of
his origin, he had suddenly appeared to make a virtue of necessity;
proclaimed of his own accord that his father was a common soldier of
Valladolid, and even invited to Madrid, and lodged in his own palace, his
low-born progenitor. This prudent frankness disarmed malevolence on the
score of birth. But when the old soldier died, rumours went abroad that
he had confessed on his death-bed that he was not in any way related to
Calderon; that he had submitted to an imposture which secured to his old
age so respectable and luxurious an asylum; and that he knew not for what
end Calderon had forced upon him the honours of spurious parentship.
This tale, which, ridiculed by most, was yet believed by some, gave rise
to darker reports concerning one on whom the eyes of all Spain were
fixed. It was supposed that he had some motive beyond that of shame at
their meanness, to conceal his real origin and name. What could be that
motive, if not the dread of discovery for some black and criminal offence
connected with his earlier youth, and for which he feared the prosecution
of the law? They who affected most to watch his exterior averred that
often, in his gayest revels and proudest triumphs, his brow would lower
--his countenance change--and it was only by a visible and painful effort
that he could restore his mind to its self-possession. His career, which
evinced an utter contempt for the ordinary rules and scruples that curb
even adventurers into a seeming of honesty and virtue, appeared in some
way to justify these reports. But, at times, flashes of sudden and
brilliant magnanimity broke forth to bewilder the curious, to puzzle the
examiners of human character, and to contrast the general tenor of his
ambitions and remorseless ascent to power. His genius was confessed by
all; but it was a genius that in no way promoted the interests of his
country. It served only to prop, defend, and advance himself--to battle
difficulties--to defeat foes--to convert every accident, every chance,
into new stepping stones in his course. Whatever his birth, it was
evident that he had received every advantage of education; and scholars
extolled his learning and boasted of his patronage. While, more
recently, if the daring and wild excesses of the profligate prince were,
on the one hand, popularly imputed to the guidance of Calderon, and
increased the hatred generally conceived against him, so, on the other
hand, his influence over the future monarch seemed to promise a new lease
to his authority, and struck fear into the councils of his foes. In
fact, the power of the upstart marquis appeared so firmly rooted, the
career before him so splendid, that there were not wanted whisperers who,
in addition to his other crimes, ascribed to Roderigo Calderon the
assistance of the black art. But the black art in which that subtle
courtier was a proficient is one that dispenses with necromancy. It was
the art of devoting the highest intellect to the most selfish purposes--
an art that thrives tolerably well for a time in the great world!
He had been for several weeks absent from Madrid on a secret mission; and
to this, his first public levee, on his return, thronged all the rank and
chivalry of Spain.
The crowd gave way, as, with haughty air, in the maturity of manhood, the
Marquis de Siete Iglesias moved along. He disdained all accessories of
dress to enhance the effect of his singularly striking exterior. His
mantle and vest of black cloth, made in the simplest fashion, were
unadorned with the jewels that then constituted the ordinary insignia of
rank. His hair, bright and glossy as the raven's plume, curled back from
the lofty and commanding brow, which, save by one deep wrinkle between
the eyes, was not only as white but as smooth as marble. His features
were aquiline and regular; and the deep olive of his complexion seemed
pale and clear when contrasted by the rich jet of the moustache and
pointed beard. The lightness of his tall and slender but muscular form
made him appear younger than he was; and had it not been for the
supercilious and scornful arrogance of air which so seldom characterises
gentle birth, Calderon might have mingled with the loftiest magnates of
Europe and seemed to the observer the stateliest of the group. It was
one of those rare forms that are made to command the one sex and
fascinate the other. But, on a deeper scrutiny, the restlessness of the
brilliant eye--the quiver of the upper lip--a certain abruptness of
manner and speech, might have shown that greatness had brought suspicion
as well as pride. The spectators beheld the huntsman on the height;--the
huntsman saw the abyss below, and respired with difficulty the air above.
The courtiers one by one approached the marquis, who received them with
very unequal courtesy. To the common herd he was sharp, dry, and bitter;
to the, great he was obsequious, yet with a certain grace and manliness
of bearing that elevated even the character of servility; and all the
while, as he bowed low to a Medina or a Guzman, there was a half
imperceptible mockery lurking in the corners of his mouth, which seemed
to imply that while his policy cringed his heart despised. To two or
three, whom he either personally liked or honestly esteemed, he was
familiar, but brief, in his address; to those whom he had cause to detest
or to dread--his foes, his underminers--he assumed a yet greater
frankness, mingled with the most caressing insinuation of voice and
manner.
Apart from the herd, with folded arms, and an expression of countenance
in which much admiration was blent with some curiosity and a little
contempt, Don Martin Fonseca gazed upon the favourite.
"I have done this man a favour," thought he; "I have contributed towards
his first rise--I am now his suppliant. Faith! I, who have never found
sincerity or gratitude in the camp, come to seek those hidden treasures
at a court! Well, we are strange puppets, we mortals!"
Don Diego Sarmiento de Mendoza had just received the smiling salutation
of Calderon, when the eye of the latter fell upon the handsome features
of Fonseca. The blood mounted to his brow; he hastily promised Don Diego
all that he desired, and hurrying back through the crowd, retired to his
private cabinet. The levee was broken up.
As Fonseca, who had caught the glance of the secretary, and who drew no
favourable omen from his sudden evanishment, slowly turned to depart with
the rest, a young man, plainly dressed, touched him on the shoulder.
"You are Senior Don Martin Fonseca?"
"The same."
"Follow me, if it please you, senor, to my master, Lou Roderigo
Calderon."
Fonseca's face brightened; he obeyed the summons; and in another moment
he was in the cabinet of the Sejanus of Spain.
