1634: The Bavarian Crisis: Chapter Two

Prudentia Politica

Brussels, the Spanish Netherlands

    Don Fernando was, of course, twenty-three years old. That accounted for many of the things that he had already achieved. He did not yet know that they were impossible. His councillors, on the other hand, did.

    Archduchess Isabella Clara Eugenia was certainly old enough to know better-according to the incredible encyclopedias to be found in a small town now located in Germany, she knew, she should have been dead by now. Given how she felt this morning, that did not surprise her in the least. However, she was sitting in a wheeled chair at the conference table, next to the Cardinal Infante.

    The decision that they had just placed on the table, among their closest and most trusted advisors, was not, perhaps, impossible. It was just-dangerous. Dreadfully dangerous.

    “It is my will,” she said. Infanta of Spain by birth; Archduchess of Austria by marriage. “It is signed. Witnessed. Sealed. From the first, it was my father’s intent that the Netherlands should be an appanage for us, for Albert and me. The lawyers have revisited all the provisions of my marriage contract in detail. For us, and for our children, to revert to Spain only if we did not have children.”

    A shadow of regret for three tiny, frail, babies, dead so long ago, flitted across her face. “Not that they should return to being directly ruled from Madrid after my death. I bore children, so the Netherlands became ours. Mine, since Albrecht’s death. Not of course, that it will prevent other lawyers, paid by other masters, from interpreting the clauses in other ways. So be it. It is my will,” she repeated. “My great-nephew Fernando has earned my trust. I have bequeathed my holdings to him. Let Philip react after he finds that the deed has been done. It will not be long.”

    As it happened, it would be longer than any of them expected. Not a year, but, through the sheer determination of her imperious will, long enough for them to prepare.

    “The expectation,” said Don Fernando, “was that the Netherlands were to be a principality. To go to their children. Which certainly implied that my grandfather anticipated that there would be children rather than a ‘white marriage.’ Even though Cousin Albrecht, also, had been forced into the church and was a cardinal; then was secularized and married my great-aunt. Specifically because my grandfather wished it.”

    “The will of your brother forced you into the church?” Cardinal Bedmar commented, the question mark being only in the tone of his voice.

    “More, the will of my father. By the time that Philip became king, it was done.”

    Bedmar concurred. Don Fernando had become Archbishop of Toledo and a cardinal of the church at the age of nine. Not content with that, Philip III’s dying wish, which amounted to a command, had been that the boy should take the vows of the priesthood. Fernando had been ten.

    “I was young, then.” Somehow, in spite of Don Fernando’s delicate frame and thin face, still absurdly youthful, the statement was not anything to jest about. “In some things, even the will of Spain must bend.”

    “And you will accomplish your secularization, how?”

    “It would be less complicated if I had not taken holy orders. Only minor orders, true; not priestly vows. Without those, I could just have submitted my resignation. As it is, Urban VIII must consent to my laicization. My brother will bring significant pressure on him to refuse the step. But it is not unprecedented.”

    “No, it is not unprecedented.” Bedmar looked at him gravely. “Have you given thought to the next step?”

    “A suitable wife?”

    “Precisely. In some ways, it is unfortunate that the daughters of the Stadholder are so young. If the pope can dispense for the sister of the king of France to marry a heretic, he could most certainly dispense for the brother of the king of Spain to marry a heretic. But waiting for a daughter of Frederik Hendrik would not be prudent. You will need heirs-the sooner, the better.”

    “Preferably, then, one of the daughters of my Uncle Ferdinand. Most, preferably, the elder, Archduchess Maria Anna.”

    “Should we put out feelers? Informally? As you know, my sister is her chief attendant.”

    “Cautiously. I am not yet ready for a public break with my brother. Indeed, I should prefer that there never be a public break with my brother; that all should be arranged amicably between Spain and the Netherlands. Uncle Ferdinand has not rushed into arranging marriages for either of my cousins. There should be ample time. Who knows what you will find in Venice? And, as you say, your sister is in in her household.”

    [NOTE TO ERIC: I’M LEAVING YOU PLENTY OF SPACE HERE TO INSERT ANYTHING ELSE THAT YOU WANT IN REGARD TO THE WAY THAT POLITICS ARE PLAYING OUT IN THE SPANISH NETHERLANDS IN REGARD TO FREDERIK HENDRIK AND THE BALTIC WAR ALSO. IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE IT, JUST LET ME KNOW AN OUTLINE OF DEVELOPMENTS.]