Читать книгу Cardinal Pole; Or, The Days of Philip and Mary. An Historical Romance онлайн

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At the period under consideration, the darker qualities inherent in Philip’s nature had not become developed. He grew more impassive, sterner, and severer, as he gained power, and advanced in years. He was a profound dissembler, and his designs were inscrutable. None knew when they had forfeited his favour. He caressed those he meant to destroy; whence it was said that there was no difference between the King’s smile and the knife. His self-restraint offered a striking contrast to the fiery impetuosity of his father. His policy was subtle, perfidious, Machiavellian. He had not Charles’s sagacity, nor Charles’s towering ambition, but he had more craft and hypocrisy than the Emperor, equal love of power, and equal capacity for rule. His industry was astonishing, and when his mighty monarchy devolved upon him, comprehending Spain, Flanders, Burgundy, the Two Sicilies, the Indies, and the New World, he passed many hours of each day, and often of each night, in reading petitions, annotating upon memorials, writing dispatches, and other toils of the cabinet. No sovereign ever wrote so much as Philip. Everything was submitted to his inspection. In hatred implacable, in severity unrelenting, fickle in friendship—if, indeed, he could form a friendship—he was equally inconstant in love matters, so that no syren could long hold him in her thrall. His affairs of gallantry, like all the rest of his proceedings, were shrouded in mystery. To none did he give his full confidence, and not even his confessor was allowed to peer into the inmost recesses of his breast. More inflexible than his father, if he had once formed a resolution, whether for good or ill, it was unalterable. But he was slow in coming to a decision. In religion he was bigoted, and firmly believed he was serving the cause of the Romish Church by the rigour he displayed towards heretics. He declared he would rather put to death a hundred thousand people than the new doctrines should take root in his dominions. Throughout his reign the terrible tribunal of the Inquisition was constantly in action. Such was the detestation felt for him in the Low Countries and in England, that he was called the “Demon of the South;” while his Spanish subjects spoke of him, under their breath, as the “Father of Dissimulations.” Despite, however, his perfidy, his bigotry, and his severity, he was a great monarch, and raised the power of Spain to its highest point. After him its splendour began to decline.