The Project Gutenberg EBook The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1576-77
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Title: The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1576-77
Author: John Lothrop Motley
Release Date: January, 2004 [EBook #4826]
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[This file was first posted on March 26, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 26
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1576-1577
By John Lothrop Motley
1855
PART V.
DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA.
1576-1577 [CHAPTER I.]
Birth and parentage of Don John--Barbara Blomberg--Early education
and recognition by Philip--Brilliant military career--Campaign
against the Moors--Battle of Lepanto--Extravagant ambition--Secret
and rapid journey of the new Governor to the Netherlands--Contrast
between Don John and William of Orange--Secret instructions of
Philip and private purposes of the Governor--Cautious policy and
correspondence of the Prince--Preliminary, negotiations with Don
John at Luxemburg characterized--Union of Brussels--Resumption of
negotiations with the Governor at Huy--The discussions analyzed and
characterized--Influence of the new Emperor Rudolph II. and of his
envoys--Treaty of Marche en Famine, or the Perpetual Edict, signed--
Remarks upon that transaction--Views and efforts of Orange in
opposition to the treaty--His letter, in name of Holland and
Zealand, to the States-General--Anxiety of the royal government to
gain over the Prince--Secret mission of Leoninus--His instructions
from Don John--Fruitless attempts to corrupt the Prince--Secret
correspondence between Don John and Orange--Don John at Louvain--His
efforts to ingratiate himself with the Netherlanders--His incipient
popularity--Departure of the Spanish troops--Duke of Aerschot
appointed Governor of Antwerp citadel--His insincere character.
Don John of Austria was now in his thirty-second year, having been born
in Ratisbon on the 24th of February, 1545. His father was Charles the
Fifth, Emperor of Germany, King of Spain, Dominator of Asia, Africa,
and America; his mother was Barbara Blomberg, washerwoman of Ratisbon.
Introduced to the Emperor, originally, that she might alleviate his
melancholy by her singing, she soon exhausted all that was harmonious in
her nature, for never was a more uncomfortable, unmanageable personage
than Barbara in her after life. Married to one Pyramus Kegell, who was
made a military commissary in the Netherlands, she was left a widow in
the beginning of Alva's administration. Placed under the especial
superintendence of the Duke, she became the torment of that warrior's
life. The terrible Governor, who could almost crush the heart out of a
nation of three millions, was unable to curb this single termagant.
Philip had expressly forbidden her to marry again, but Alva informed him
that she was surrounded by suitors. Philip had insisted that she should
go into a convent, but Alva, who, with great difficulty, had established
her quietly in Ghent, assured his master that she would break loose again
at the bare suggestion of a convent. Philip wished her to go to Spain,
sending her word that Don John was mortified by the life his mother was
leading, but she informed the Governor that she would be cut to pieces
before she would go to Spain. She had no objection to see her son, but
she knew too well how women were treated in that country. The Duke
complained most pathetically to his Majesty of the life they all led with
the ex-mistress of the Emperor. Never, he frequently observed, had woman
so terrible a head. She was obstinate, reckless, abominably extravagant.
She had been provided in Ghent with a handsome establishment: "with a
duenna, six other women, a major domo, two pages, one chaplain, an
almoner, and four men-servants," and this seemed a sufficiently liberal
scheme of life for the widow of a commissary. Moreover, a very ample
allowance had been made for the education of her only legitimate son,
Conrad, the other having perished by an accident on the day of his
father's death. While Don John of Austria was, gathering laurels in
Granada, his half-brother, Pyramus junior, had been ingloriously drowned
in a cistern at Ghent.
Barbara's expenses were exorbitant; her way of life scandalous. To send
her money, said Alva, was to throw it into the sea. In two days she
would have spent in dissipation and feasting any sums which the King
might choose to supply. The Duke, who feared nothing else in the world,
stood in mortal awe of the widow Kegell. "A terrible animal, indeed, is
an unbridled woman," wrote secretary Gayas, from Madrid, at the close of
Alva's administration for, notwithstanding every effort to entice, to
intimidate, and to kidnap her from the Netherlands, there she remained,
through all vicissitudes, even till the arrival of Don John. By his
persuasions or commands she was, at last, induced to accept an exile for
the remainder of her days, in Spain, but revenged herself by asserting.
that he was quite mistaken: in supposing himself the Emperor's child; a
point, certainly, upon which her, authority might be thought conclusive.
Thus there was a double mystery about Don John. He might be the issue of
august parentage on one side; he was; possibly, sprung of most ignoble
blood. Base-born at best, he was not sure whether to look for the author
of his being in the halls of the Caesara or the booths of Ratisbon
mechanics.
[Cabrera, xii. 1009. An absurd rumor had existed that Barbara
Blomberg had only been employed to personate Don John's mother. She
died at an estate called Arronjo de Molinos, four leagues from
Madrid, some years after the death of Don John.]
Whatever might be the heart of the mystery, it is certain that it was
allowed to enwrap all the early life of Don John. The Emperor, who
certainly never doubted his responsibility for the infant's existence,
had him conveyed instantly to Spain, where he was delivered to Louis
Quixada, of the Imperial household, by whom he was brought up in great
retirement at Villa-garcia. Magdalen Ulloa, wife of Quixada, watched
over his infancy with maternal and magnanimous care, for her husband's
extreme solicitude for the infant's welfare had convinced her that he was
its father. On one occasion, when their house was in flames, Quixada
rescued the infant before he saved his wife, "although Magdalen knew
herself to be dearer to him than the apple of his eye." From that time
forth she altered her opinion, and believed the mysterious child to be of
lofty origin. The boy grew up full of beauty, grace, and agility, the
leader of all his companions in every hardy sport. Through the country
round there were none who could throw the javelin, break a lance, or ride
at the ring like little Juan Quixada. In taming unmanageable horses he
was celebrated for his audacity and skill. These accomplishments,
however, were likely to prove of but slender advantage in the
ecclesiastical profession, to which he had been destined by his Imperial
father. The death of Charles occurred before clerical studies had been
commenced, and Philip, to whom the secret had been confided at the close
of the Emperor's life, prolonged the delay thus interposed. Juan had
already reached his fourteenth year, when one day his supposed father
Quixada invited him to ride towards Valladolid to see the royal hunt.
Two horses stood at the door--a splendidly caparisoned charger and a
common hackney. The boy naturally mounted the humbler steed, and they
set forth for the mountains of Toro, but on hearing the bugles of the
approaching huntsmen, Quixada suddenly halted, and bade his youthful
companion exchange horses with himself. When this had been done, he
seized the hand of the wondering boy and kissing it respectfully,
exclaimed, "Your Highness will be informed as to the meaning of my
conduct by his Majesty, who is even now approaching." They had proceeded
but a short distance before they encountered the royal hunting party,
when both Quixada and young Juan dismounted, and bent the knee to their
monarch. Philip, commanding the boy to rise, asked him if he knew his
father's name. Juan replied, with a sigh, that he had at that moment
lost the only father whom he had known, for Quixada had just disowned
him. "You have the same father as myself," cried the King; "the Emperor
Charles was the august parent of us both." Then tenderly embracing him,
he commanded him to remount his horse, and all returned together to
Valladolid, Philip observing with a sentimentality that seems highly
apocryphal, that he had never brought home such precious game from any
hunt before.
This theatrical recognition of imperial descent was one among the many
romantic incidents of Don John's picturesque career, for his life was
never destined to know the commonplace. He now commenced his education,
in company with his two nephews, the Duchess Margaret's son, and Don
Carlos, Prince-royal of Spain. They were all of the same age, but the
superiority of Don John was soon recognized. It was not difficult to
surpass the limping, malicious, Carlos, either in physical graces or
intellectual accomplishments; but the graceful; urbane, and chivalrous
Alexander, destined afterwards to such wide celebrity, was a more
formidable rival, yet even the professed panegyrist of the Farnese
family, exalts the son of Barbara Blomberg over the grandson of Margaret
Van Geest.
Still destined for the clerical profession, Don John, at the age of
eighteen, to avoid compliance with Philip's commands, made his escape
to Barcelona. It was his intention to join the Maltese expedition.
Recalled peremptorily by Philip, he was for a short time in disgrace;
but afterwards made his peace with the monarch by denouncing some of the
mischievous schemes of Don Carlos. Between the Prince-royal and the
imperial bastard, there had always been a deep animosity, the Infante
having on one occasion saluted him with the most vigorous and offensive
appellation which his illegitimate birth could suggest. "Base-born or
not," returned Don John, "at any rate I had a better father than yours."
The words were probably reported to Philip and doubtless rankled in his
breast, but nothing appeared on the surface, and the youth rose rapidly
in favor. In his twenty-third year, he was appointed to the command of
the famous campaign against the insurgent Moors of Granada. Here he
reaped his first laurels, and acquired great military celebrity. It is
difficult to be dazzled by such glory. He commenced his operations by
the expulsion of nearly all the Moorish inhabitants of Granada, bed-
ridden men, women, and children, together, and the cruelty inflicted,
the sufferings patiently endured in that memorable deportation, were
enormous. But few of the many thousand exiles survived the horrid march,
those who were so unfortunate as to do so being sold into slavery by
their captors. Still a few Moors held out in their mountain fastnesses,
and two years long the rebellion of this handful made head against the,
power of Spain. Had their envoys to the Porte succeeded in their
negotiation, the throne of Philip might have trembled; but Selim hated
the Republic of Venice as much as he loved the wine of Cyprus. While the
Moors were gasping out their last breath in Granada and Ronda, the Turks
had wrested the island of Venus from the grasp of the haughty Republic
Fainagosta had fallen; thousands of Venetians had been butchered with a
ferocity which even Christians could not have surpassed; the famous
General Bragadino had been flayed; stuffed, and sent hanging on the yard-
arm of a frigate; to Constantinople, as a present to the Commander of the
Faithful; and the mortgage of Catherine Cornaro, to the exclusion of her
husband's bastards, had been thus definitely cancelled. With such
practical enjoyments, Selim was indifferent to the splendid but shadowy
vision of the Occidental caliphate--yet the revolt of the Moors was only
terminated, after the departure of Don John, by the Duke of Arcos.
The war which the Sultan had avoided in the West, came to seek him in the
East. To lift the Crucifix against the Crescent, at the head of the
powerful but quarrelsome alliance between Venice, Spain, and Rome, Don
John arrived at Naples. He brought with him more than a hundred ships
and twenty-three thousand men, as the Spanish contingent:--Three months
long the hostile fleets had been cruising in the same waters without an
encounter; three more were wasted in barren manoeuvres. Neither
Mussulman nor Christian had much inclination for the conflict, the Turk
fearing the consequences of a defeat, by which gains already secured
might be forfeited; the allies being appalled at the possibility of their
own triumph. Nevertheless, the Ottomans manoeuvred themselves at last
into the gulf of Lepanto, the Christians manoeuvred themselves towards
its mouth as the foe was coming forth again. The conflict thus rendered
inevitable, both Turk and Christian became equally eager for the fray,
equally confident of, victory. Six hundred vessels of war met face to
face. Rarely in history had so gorgeous a scene of martial array been
witnessed. An October sun gilded the thousand beauties of an Ionian
landscape. Athens and Corinth were behind the combatants, the mountains
of Alexander's Macedon rose in the distance; the rock of Sappho and the
heights of Actium, were before their eyes. Since the day when the world
had been lost and won beneath that famous promontory, no such combat as
the one now approaching had been fought upon the waves. The chivalrous
young commander despatched energetic messages to his fellow chieftains,
and now that it was no longer possible to elude the encounter, the
martial ardor of the allies was kindled. The Venetian High-Admiral
replied with words of enthusiasm. Colonna, lieutenant of the league,
answered his chief in the language of St. Peter; "Though I die, yet will
I not deny thee."
The fleet was arranged in three divisions. The Ottomans, not drawn up in
crescent form, as usual, had the same triple disposition. Barbarigo and
the other Venetians commanded on the left, John Andrew Doria on the
right, while Don John himself and Colonna were in the centre, Crucifix in
hand, the High-Admiral rowed from ship to ship exhorting generals and
soldiers to show themselves worthy of a cause which he had persuaded
himself was holy. Fired by his eloquence and by the sight of the enemy,
his hearers answered with eager shouts, while Don John returned to his
ship; knelt upon the quarter-deck, and offered a prayer. He then ordered
the trumpets to sound the assault, commanded his sailing-master to lay
him alongside the Turkish Admiral, and the battle began. The Venetians,
who were first attacked, destroyed ship after ship of their assailants
after a close and obstinate contest, but Barliarigo fell dead ere the
sunset, with an arrow through his brain. Meantime the action,
immediately after the first onset, had become general. From noon till
evening the battle raged, with a carnage rarely recorded in history. Don
John's own ship lay yard-arm and yard-arm with the Turkish Admiral, and
exposed to the fire of seven large vessels besides. It was a day when
personal, audacity, not skilful tactics, was demanded, and the imperial
bastard showed the metal he was made of. The Turkish Admiral's ship was
destroyed, his head exposed from Don John's deck upon a pike, and the
trophy became the signal for a general panic and a complete victory. By
sunset the battle had been won.
Of nearly three hundred Turkish galleys, but fifty made their escape.
From twenty-five to thirty thousand Turks were slain, and perhaps ten
thousand Christians. The galley-slaves on both sides fought well, and
the only beneficial result of the victory was the liberation of several
thousand Christian captives. It is true that their liberty was purchased
with the lives of a nearly equal number of Christian soldiers, and by the
reduction to slavery of almost as many thousand Mussulmen, duly
distributed among the Christian victors. Many causes--contributed to
this splendid triumph. The Turkish ships, inferior in number, were also
worse manned than those of their adversaries; and their men were worse
armed. Every bullet of the Christians told on muslin turbans and
embroidered tunics, while the arrows of the Moslems fell harmless on the
casques and corslets of their foes. The Turks, too, had committed the
fatal error of fighting upon a lee shore. Having no sea room, and being
repelled in their first onset, many galleys were driven upon the rocks,
to be destroyed with all their crews.
[Cabrera says that thirty thousand Turks were slain, ten thousand
made prisoners, ten thousand Christians killed, and fifteen thousand
Christian prisoners liberated, ix. 693. De Thou's estimate is
twenty-five thousand Turks killed, three thousand prisoners, and ten
thousand Christians killed, vi. 247. Brantome states the number of
Turks killed at thirty thousand, without counting those who were
drowned or who died afterwards of their wounds; six thousand
prisoners, twelve thousand Christian prisoners liberated, and ten
thousand Christians killed. Hoofd, vi. 214, gives the figures at
twenty-five thousand Turks and ten thousand Christians slain. Bor,
v. 354, makes a minute estimate, on the authority of Pietro
Contareno, stating the number of Christians killed at seven thousand
six hundred and fifty, that of Turks at twenty-five thousand one
hundred and fifty, Turkish prisoners at three thousand eight hundred
and forty-six, and Christians liberated at twelve thousand; giving
the number of Turkish ships destroyed at eighty, captured fifty.
According to the "Relation cierta y verdadera," (which was drawn up
a few days after the action,) the number of Turks slain was thirty
thousand and upwards, besides many prisoners, that of Christians
killed was seven thousand, of Christian slaves liberated twelve
thousand, of Ottoman ships taken or destroyed two hundred and
thirty. Documentos Ineditos, iii. 249. Philip sent an express
order, forbidding the ransoming of even the captive officers. The
Turkish slaves were divided among the victors in the proportion of
one-half to Philip and one-half to the Pope and Venice. The other
booty was distributed on the same principle. Out of the Pope's
share Don John received, as a present, one hundred and seventy-four
slaves (Documentos Ineditos, iii. 229). Alexander of Parma
received thirty slaves; Requesens thirty. To each general of
infantry was assigned six slaves; to each colonel four; to each
ship's captain one. The number of "slaves in chains" (esclavos de
cadena) allotted to Philip was thirty-six hundred (Documentoa
Ineditos, 257). Seven thousand two hundred Turkish slaves,
therefore, at least, were divided among Christians. This number of
wretches, who were not fortunate enough to die with their twenty-
five thousand comrades, must be set off against the twelve thousand
Christian slaves liberated, in the general settlement of the account
with Humanity.]
But whatever the cause of the victory, its consequence was to spread the
name and fame of Don John of Austria throughout the world. Alva wrote,
with enthusiasm, to congratulate him; pronouncing the victory the most
brilliant one ever achieved by Christians, and Don John the greatest
general since the death of Julius Caesar. At the same time, with a
sarcastic fling at the erection of the Escorial, he advised Philip to
improve this new success in some more practical way than by building a
house for the Lord and a sepulchre for the dead. "If," said the Duke,
"the conquests of Spain be extended in consequence of this triumph, then,
indeed, will the Cherubim and Seraphim sing glory to God." A courier,
despatched post haste to Spain, bore the glorious news, together with
the, sacred, standard of the Prophet, the holy of holies, inscribed with
the name of Allah twenty-eight thousand nine hundred times, always kept
in Mecca during peace, and never since the conquest of Constantinople
lost in battle before. The King was at vespers in the Escorial.
Entering the sacred precincts, breathless, travel-stained, excited, the
messenger found Philip impassible as marble to the wondrous news. Not a
muscle of the royal visage was moved, not a syllable escaped the royal
lips, save a brief order to the clergy to continue the interrupted
vespers. When the service had been methodically concluded, the King made
known the intelligence and requested a Te Deum.
The youthful commander-in-chief obtained more than his full mead of
glory. No doubt he had fought with brilliant courage, yet in so close
and murderous a conflict, the valor of no single individual could decide
the day, and the result was due to the combined determination of all.
Had Don John remained at Naples, the issue might have easily been the
same. Barbarigo, who sealed the victory with his blood; Colonna, who
celebrated a solemn triumph on his return to Rome; Parma, Doria,
Giustiniani, Venieri, might each as well have claimed a monopoly of the
glory, had not the Pope, at Philip's entreaty, conferred the baton of
command upon Don John. The meagre result of the contest is as notorious
as the victory. While Constantinople was quivering with apprehension,
the rival generals were already wrangling with animosity. Had the
Christian fleet advanced, every soul would have fled from the capital,
but Providence had ordained otherwise, and Don John sailed westwardly
with his ships. He made a descent on the Barbary coast, captured Tunis,
destroyed Biserta, and brought King Amidas and his two sons prisoners to
Italy. Ordered by Philip to dismantle the fortifications of Tunis, he
replied by repairing them thoroughly, and by placing a strong garrison
within the citadel. Intoxicated with his glory, the young adventurer
already demanded a crown, and the Pope was disposed to proclaim him King
of Tunis, for the Queen of the Lybian seas was to be the capital of his
Empire, the new Carthage which he already dreamed.
Philip thought it time to interfere, for he felt that his own crown might
be insecure, with such a restless and ambitious spirit indulging in
possible and impossible chimeras. He removed John de Soto, who had been
Don John's chief councillor and emissary to the Pope, and substituted in
his place the celebrated and ill-starred Escovedo. The new secretary,
however, entered as heartily but secretly into all these romantic
schemes. Disappointed of the Empire which he had contemplated on the
edge of the African desert, the champion of the Cross turned to the cold
islands of the northern seas. There sighed, in captivity, the beauteous
Mary of Scotland, victim of the heretic Elizabeth. His susceptibility to
the charms of beauty--a characteristic as celebrated as his courage--was
excited, his chivalry aroused. What holier triumph for the conqueror of
the Saracens than the subjugation of these northern infidels? He would
dethrone the proud Elizabeth; he would liberate and espouse the Queen of
Scots, and together they would reign over, the two united realms.
All that the Pope could do with bulls and blessings, letters of
excommunication, and patents of investiture, he did with his whole heart.
Don John was at liberty to be King of England and Scotland as soon as he
liked; all that was left to do was to conquer the kingdoms.
Meantime, while these schemes were flitting through his brain, and were
yet kept comparatively secret by the Pope, Escovedo, and himself, the
news reached him in Italy that be had been appointed Governor-General of
the Netherlands. Nothing could be more opportune. In the provinces were
ten thousand veteran Spaniards, ripe for adventure, hardened by years of
warfare, greedy for gold, audacious almost beyond humanity, the very
instruments for his scheme. The times were critical in the Netherlands,
it was true; yet he would soon pacify those paltry troubles, and then
sweep forward to his prize. Yet events were rushing forward with such
feverish rapidity, that he might be too late for his adventure. Many
days were lost in the necessary journey from Italy into Spain to receive
the final instructions of the King. The news from the provinces, grew
more and more threatening. With the impetuosity and romance of his
temperament, he selected his confidential friend Ottavio Gonzaga, six
men-at-arms, and an adroit and well-experienced Swiss courier who knew
every road of France. It was no light adventure for the Catholic
Governor-General of the Netherlands to traverse the kingdom at that
particular juncture. Staining his bright locks and fair face to the
complexion of a Moor, he started on his journey, attired as the servant
of Gonzaga. Arriving at Paris, after a rapid journey, he descended at a
hostelry opposite the residence of the Spanish ambassador, Don Diego de
Cuniga. After nightfall he had a secret interview with that functionary,
and learning, among other matters, that there was to be a great ball that
night at the Louvre, he determined to go thither in disguise. There,
notwithstanding his hurry, he had time to see and to become desperately
enamored of "that wonder of beauty," the fair and frail Margaret of
Valois, Queen of Navarre. Her subsequent visit to her young adorer at
Namur, to be recorded in a future page of this history, was destined to
mark the last turning point in his picturesque career. On his way to the
Netherlands he held a rapid interview with the Duke of Guise, to arrange
his schemes for the liberation and espousal of that noble's kinswoman,
the Scottish Queen; and on the 3rd of November he arrived at Luxemburg.
There stood the young conqueror of Lepanto, his brain full of schemes,
his heart full of hopes, on the threshhold of the Netherlands, at the
entrance to what he believed the most brilliant chapter of his life--
schemes, hopes, and visions--doomed speedily to fade before the cold
reality with which he was to be confronted. Throwing off his disguise
after reaching Luxemburg, the youthful paladin stood confessed. His
appearance was as romantic as his origin and his exploits. Every
contemporary chronicler, French, Spanish, Italian, Flemish, Roman, have
dwelt upon his personal beauty and the singular fascination of his
manner. Symmetrical features, blue eyes of great vivacity, and a
profusion of bright curling hair, were combined with a person not much
above middle height; but perfectly well proportioned. Owing to a natural
peculiarity of his head, the hair fell backward from the temples, and he
had acquired the habit of pushing it from his brows. The custom became a
fashion among the host of courtiers, who were but too happy to glass
themselves in so brilliant a mirror. As Charles the Fifth, on his
journey to Italy to assume the iron crown, had caused his hair to be
clipped close, as a remedy for the headaches with which, at that
momentous epoch, he was tormented, bringing thereby close shaven polls
into extreme fashion; so a mass of hair pushed backward from the temples,
in the style to which the name of John of Austria was appropriated,
became the prevailing mode wherever the favorite son of the Emperor
appeared.
Such was the last crusader whom the annals of chivalry were to know; the
man who had humbled the crescent as it had not been humbled since the
days of the Tancreds, the Baldwins, the Plantagenets--yet, after all,
what was this brilliant adventurer when weighed against the tranquil
Christian champion whom he was to meet face to face? The contrast was
striking between the real and the romantic hero. Don John had pursued
and achieved glory through victories with which the world was ringing;
William was slowly compassing a country's emancipation through a series
of defeats. He moulded a commonwealth and united hearts with as much
contempt for danger as Don John had exhibited in scenes of slave driving
and carnage. Amid fields of blood, and through web's of tortuous
intrigue, the brave and subtle son of the Emperor pursued only his own
objects. Tawdry schemes of personal ambition, conquests for his own
benefit, impossible crowns for his own wearing, were the motives which
impelled, him, and the prizes which he sought. His existence was
feverish, fitful, and passionate. "Tranquil amid the raging billows,"
according to his favorite device, the father of his country waved aside
the diadem which for him had neither charms nor meaning. Their
characters were as contrasted as their persons. The curled-darling of
chivalry seemed a youth at thirty-one. Spare of figure, plain in
apparel, benignant, but haggard of countenance, with temples bared by
anxiety as much as by his helmet, earnest, almost devout in manner, in
his own words, "Calvus et Calvinists," William of Orange was an old man
at forty-three.
Perhaps there was as much good faith on the part of Don John, when
he arrived in Luxemburg, as could be expected of a man coming directly
from the cabinet of Philip. The King had secretly instructed him to
conciliate the provinces, but to concede nothing, for the Governor was
only a new incarnation of the insane paradox that benignity and the
system of Charles the Fifth were one. He was directed to restore the
government, to its state during the imperial epoch. Seventeen provinces,
in two of which the population were all dissenters, in all of which the
principle of mutual toleration had just been accepted by Catholics and
Protestants, were now to be brought back to the condition according to
which all Protestants were beheaded, burned, or buried alive. So that
the Inquisition, the absolute authority of the monarch, and the exclusive
worship of the Roman Church were preserved intact, the King professed
himself desirous of "extinguishing the fires of rebellion, and of saving
the people from the last desperation." With these slight exceptions,
Philip was willing to be very benignant. "More than this," said he,
"cannot and ought not be conceded." To these brief but pregnant
instructions was added a morsel of advice, personal in its nature,
but very characteristic of the writer. Don John was recommended to take
great care of his soul, and also to be very cautious in the management of
his amours.
Thus counselled and secretly directed, the new Captain-General had been
dismissed to the unhappy Netherlands. The position, however, was
necessarily false. The man who was renowned for martial exploits, and
notoriously devoured by ambition, could hardly inspire deep confidence in
the pacific dispositions of the government. The crusader of Granada and
Lepanto, the champion of the ancient Church, was not likely to please the
rugged Zealanders who had let themselves be hacked to pieces rather than
say one Paternoster, and who had worn crescents in their caps at Leyden,
to prove their deeper hostility to the Pope than to the Turk. The
imperial bastard would derive but alight consideration from his paternal
blood, in a country where illegitimate birth was more unfavorably
regarded than in most other countries, and where a Brabantine edict,
recently issued in name of the King; deprived ail political or civil
functionaries not born in wedlock; of their offices. Yet he had
received instructions, at his departure, to bring about a pacification,
if possible, always maintaining, however, the absolute authority of the
crown and the exclusive exercise of the Catholic religion. How the two
great points of his instructions were to be made entirely palatable, was
left to time and chance. There was a vague notion that with the new
Governor's fame, fascinating manners, and imperial parentage, he might
accomplish a result which neither fraud nor force--not the arts of
Granvelle, nor the atrocity of Alva, nor the licentiousness of a
buccaneering soldiery had been able to effect. As for Don John himself,
he came with no definite plans for the Netherlanders, but with very
daring projects of his own, and to pursue these misty visions was his
main business on arriving in the provinces. In the meantime he was
disposed to settle the Netherland difficulty in some showy, off-hand
fashion, which should cost him but little trouble, and occasion no
detriment to the cause of Papacy or absolutism. Unfortunately for
these rapid arrangements, William of Orange was in Zealand, and the
Pacification had just been signed at Ghent.
It was, naturally, with very little satisfaction that the Prince beheld
the arrival of Don John. His sagacious combinations would henceforth be
impeded, if not wholly frustrated. This he foresaw. He knew that there
could be no intention of making any arrangement in which Holland and
Zealand could be included. He was confident that any recognition of the
Reformed religion was as much out of the question now as ever. He
doubted not that there were many Catholic magnates, wavering politicians,
aspirants for royal favor, who would soon be ready to desert the cause
which had so recently been made a general cause, and who would soon be
undermining the work of their own hands. The Pacification of Ghent would
never be maintained in letter and spirit by the vicegerent of Philip; for
however its sense might be commented upon or perverted, the treaty, while
it recognized Catholicism as the state religion, conceded, to a certain
extent, liberty of conscience. An immense stride had been taken, by
abolishing the edicts, and prohibiting persecution. If that step were
now retraced, the new religion was doomed, and the liberties of Holland
and Zealand destroyed. "If they make an arrangement with Don John, it
will be for us of the religion to run," wrote the Prince to his brother,
"for their intention is to suffer no person of that faith to have a
fixed domicile in the Netherlands." It was, therefore, with a calm
determination to counteract and crush the policy of the youthful Governor
that William the Silent awaited his antagonist. Were Don John admitted
to confidence, the peace of Holland and Zealand was gone. Therefore
it was necessary to combat him both openly and secretly--by loud
remonstrance and by invisible stratagem. What chance had the impetuous
and impatient young hero in such an encounter with the foremost statesman
of the age? He had arrived, with all the self-confidence of a conqueror;
he did not know that he was to be played upon like a pipe--to be caught
in meshes spread by his own hands--to struggle blindly--to rage
impotently--to die ingloriously.
The Prince had lost no time in admonishing the states-general as to the
course which should now be pursued. He was of opinion that, upon their
conduct at this crisis depended the future destinies of the Netherlands.
"If we understand how to make proper use of the new Governor's arrival,"
said he, "it may prove very advantageous to us; if not, it will be the
commencement of our total ruin." The spirit of all his communications
was to infuse the distrust which he honestly felt, and which he certainly
took no pains to disguise; to impress upon his countrymen the importance
of improving the present emergency by the enlargement, instead of the
threatened contraction of their liberties, and to enforce with all his
energy the necessity of a firm union. He assured the estates that Don
John had been sent, in this simple manner, to the country, because the
King and cabinet had begun to despair of carrying their point by force.
At the same time he warned them that force would doubtless be replaced
by fraud. He expressed his conviction that so soon as Don John should
attain the ascendency which he had been sent to secure, the gentleness
which now smiled upon the surface would give place to the deadlier
purposes which lurked below. He went so far as distinctly to recommend
the seizure of Don John's person. By so doing, much bloodshed might be
saved; for such was the King's respect for the Emperor's son that their
demands would be granted rather than that his liberty should be
permanently endangered. In a very striking and elaborate letter which
he addressed from Middelburg to the estates-general, he insisted on the
expediency of seizing the present opportunity in order to secure and to
expand their liberties, and urged them to assert broadly the principle
that the true historical polity of the Netherlands was a representative,
constitutional government, Don John, on arriving at Luxemburg, had
demanded hostages for his own security, a measure which could not but
strike the calmest spectator as an infraction of all provincial rights.
"He asks you to disarm," continued William of Orange; "he invites you to
furnish hostages, but the time has been when the lord of the land came
unarmed and uncovered, before the estates-general, and swore to support
the constitutions before his own sovereignty could be recognized."
He reiterated his suspicions as to the honest intentions of the
government, and sought, as forcibly as possible, to infuse an equal
distrust into the minds of those he addressed. "Antwerp," said he,
"once the powerful and blooming, now the most forlorn and desolate city
of Christendom, suffered because she dared to exclude the King's troops.
You may be sure that you are all to have a place at the same banquet.
We may forget the past, but princes never forget, when the means of
vengeance are placed within their hands. Nature teaches them to arrive
at their end by fraud, when violence will not avail them. Like little
children, they whistle to the birds they would catch. Promises and
pretences they will furnish in plenty."
He urged them on no account to begin any negotiation with the Governor,
except on the basis of the immediate departure of the soldiery. "Make no
agreement with him; unless the Spanish and other foreign troops have been
sent away beforehand; beware, meantime, of disbanding your own, for that
were to put the knife into his hands to cut your own throats withal."
He then proceeded to sketch the out lines of a negotiation, such as he
could recommend. The plan was certainly sufficiently bold, and it could
hardly cause astonishment, if it were not immediately accepted by Don
John; as the basis of an arrangement. "Remember this is not play", said
the Prince, "and that you have to choose between the two, either total
ruin or manly self-defence. Don John must command the immediate
departure of the Spaniards. All our privileges must be revised, and an
oath to maintain them required. New councils of state and finance must
be appointed by the estates. The general assembly ought to have power to
come together twice or thrice yearly, and, indeed, as often as they
choose. The states-general must administer and regulate all affairs.
The citadels must be demolished everywhere. No troops ought to be
enlisted, nor garrisons established, without the consent of the estates."
In all the documents, whether public memorials or private letters, which
came at this period from the hand of the Prince, he assumed, as a matter
of course, that in any arrangement with the new Governor the Pacification
of Ghent was to be maintained. This, too, was the determination of
almost every man in the country. Don John, soon after his arrival at
Luxemburg, had despatched messengers to the states-general, informing
them of his arrival. It was not before the close of the month of
November that the negotiations seriously began. Provost Fonck, on the
part of the Governor, then informed them of Don John's intention to enter
Namur, attended by fifty mounted troopers. Permission, however, was
resolutely refused, and the burghers of Namur were forbidden to render
oaths of fidelity until the Governor should have complied with the
preliminary demands of the estates. To enunciate these demands
categorically, a deputation of the estates-general came to Luxemburg.
These gentlemen were received with courtesy by Don John, but their own
demeanour was not conciliatory. A dislike to the Spanish government;
a disloyalty to the monarch with whose brother and representative they
were dealing, pierced through all their language. On the other hand,
the ardent temper of Don John was never slow to take offence. One of the
deputies proposed to the Governor, with great coolness, that he should
assume the government in his own name, and renounce the authority of
Philip. Were he willing to do so, the patriotic gentleman pledged
himself that the provinces would at once acknowledge him as sovereign,
and sustain his government. Don John, enraged at the insult to his own
loyalty which the proposition implied, drew his dagger and rushed towards
the offender. The deputy would, probably, have paid for his audacity
with his life had there not been by-standers enough to prevent the
catastrophe. This scene was an unsatisfactory prelude to the opening
negotiations.
On the 6th of December the deputies presented to the Governor at
Luxemburg a paper, containing their demands, drawn up in eight articles,
and their concessions in ten. The states insisted on the immediate
removal of the troops, with the understanding that they were never to
return, but without prohibition of their departure by sea; they demanded
the immediate release of all prisoners; they insisted on the maintenance
of the Ghent treaty, there being nothing therein which did not tend to
the furtherance of the Catholic religion; they claimed an act of amnesty;
they required the convocation of the states-general, on the basis of that
assembly before which took place the abdication of Charles the Fifth;
they demanded an oath, on the part of Don John, to maintain all the
charters and customs of the country.
Should these conditions be complied: with, the deputies consented on the
part of the estates, that he should be acknowledged as Governor, and that
the Catholic religion and the authority of his Majesty should be
maintained. They agreed that all foreign leagues should be renounced,
their own foreign soldiery disbanded, and a guard of honor, native
Netherlanders, such as his Majesty was contented with at his "Blythe
Entrance," provided. A truce of fifteen days, for negotiations, was
furthermore proposed.
Don John made answers to these propositions by adding a brief comment,
as apostille, upon each of the eighteen articles, in succession. He
would send away the troops, but, at the same time, the states must
disband their own. He declined engaging himself not to recal his foreign
soldiery, should necessity require their service. With regard to the
Ghent Pacification, he professed himself ready for a general peace
negotiation, on condition that the supremacy of the Catholic Church
and the authority of his Majesty were properly secured. He would settle
upon some act of amnesty after due consultation with the State Council.
He was willing that the states should be convoked in general assembly,
provided sufficient security were given him that nothing should be there
transacted prejudicial to the Catholic religion and the King's
sovereignty. As for their privileges, he would govern as had been done
in the time of his imperial father. He expressed his satisfaction with
most of the promises offered by the estates, particularly with their
expression in favor of the Church and of his Majesty's authority; the
two all-important points to secure which he had come thither unattended,
at the peril of his life, but he received their offer of a body-guard,
by which his hirelings were to be superseded, with very little gratitude.
He was on the point, he said, of advancing as far as Marche en Famine,
and should take with him as strong a guard as he considered necessary,
and composed of such troops as he had at hand. Nothing decisive came of
this first interview. The parties had taken the measures of their mutual
claims, and after a few days, fencing with apostilles, replies, and
rejoinders, they separated, their acrimony rather inflamed than appeased.
The departure of the troops and the Ghent treaty were the vital points in
the negotiation. The estates had originally been content that the troops
should go by sea. Their suspicions were, however, excited by the
pertinacity with which Don John held to this mode of removal. Although
they did not suspect the mysterious invasion of England, a project which
was the real reason why the Governor objected to their departure by land,
yet they soon became aware--that he had been secretly tampering with the
troops at every point. The effect of these secret negotiations with the
leading officers of the army was a general expression of their
unwillingness, on account of the lateness of the season, the difficult
and dangerous condition of the roads and mountain-passes, the plague in
Italy, and other pretexts, to undertake so long a journey by land. On
the other hand, the states, seeing the anxiety and the duplicity of Don
John upon this particular point, came to the resolution to thwart him at
all hazards, and insisted on the land journey. Too long a time, too much
money, too many ships would be necessary, they said, to forward so large
a force by sea, and in the meantime it would be necessary to permit them
to live for another indefinite period at the charge of the estates.
With regard to the Ghent Pacification, the estates, in the course of
December, procured: an express opinion from the eleven professors of
theology, and doctors utriusque juris of Louvain, that the treaty
contained nothing which conflicted with the supremacy of the Catholic
religion. The various bishops, deacons, abbots, and pastors of the
Netherlands made a similar decision. An elaborate paper, drawn, up by
the State-Council, at the request of the states-general, declared that
there was nothing in the Pacification derogatory to the supreme authority
of his Majesty. Thus fortified; with opinions which, it must be
confessed, were rather dogmatically than argumentatively drawn up,
and which it would have been difficult very logically to, defend,
the states looked forward confidently to the eventual acceptance by Don
John of the terms proposed. In the meantime, while there was still an
indefinite pause in the negotiations, a remarkable measure came to aid
the efficacy of the Ghent Pacification.
Early in January, 1577, the celebrated "Union of Brussels" was formed.
This important agreement was originally signed by eight leading
personages, the Abbot of Saint Gertrude, the Counts Lalain and Bossu,
and the Seigneur de Champagny being among the number. Its tenor was to
engage its signers to compass the immediate expulsion of the Spaniards
and the execution of the Ghent Pacification, to maintain the Catholic
religion and the King's authority, and to defend the fatherland and all
its constitutions. Its motive was to generalize the position assumed by
the Ghent treaty. The new act was to be signed, not by a few special
deputies alone, like a diplomatic convention, but by all the leading
individuals of all the provinces, in order to exhibit to Don John such an
array of united strength that he would find himself forced to submit to
the demands of the estates. The tenor, motive, and effect were all as
had been proposed and foreseen. The agreement to expel the Spaniards,
under the Catholic and loyal manifestations indicated, passed from hand
to hand through all the provinces. It soon received the signature and
support of all the respectability, wealth, and intelligence of the whole
country. Nobles, ecclesiastics, citizens, hastened to give to it their
adhesion. The states-general had sent it, by solemn resolution, to every
province, in order that every man might be forced to range himself either
upon the side of the fatherland or of despotism. Two copies of the
signatures procured in each province were ordered, of which one was to be
deposited in its archives, and the other forwarded to Brussels. In a
short time, every province, with the single exception of Luxemburg, had
loaded the document with signatures. This was a great step in advance.
The Ghent Pacification, which was in the nature of a treaty between the
Prince and the estates of Holland and Zealand on the one side, and a
certain number of provinces on the other, had only been signed by the
envoys of the contracting parties. Though received with deserved and
universal acclamation, it had not the authority of a popular document.
This, however, was the character studiously impressed upon the "Brussels
Union." The people, subdivided according to the various grades of their
social hierarchy, had been solemnly summoned to council, and had
deliberately recorded their conviction. No restraint had been put upon
their freedom of action, and there was hardly a difference of opinion as
to the necessity of the measure.
A rapid revolution in Friesland, Groningen, and the dependencies,
had recently restored that important country to the national party.
The Portuguese De Billy had been deprived of his authority as King's
stadholder, and Count Hoogstraaten's brother, Baron de Ville, afterwards
as Count Renneberg infamous for his, treason to the cause of liberty, had
been appointed by the estates in his room. In all this district the
"Union of Brussels" was eagerly signed by men of every degree. Holland
and Zealand, no less than the Catholic provinces of the south willingly
accepted the compromise which was thus laid down, and which was thought
to be not only an additional security for the past, not only a pillar
more for the maintenance of the Ghent Pacification, but also a sure
precursor of a closer union in the future. The Union of Brussels became,
in fact, the stepping-stone to the "Union of Utrecht," itself the
foundation-stone of a republic destined to endure more than two
centuries. On the other hand, this early union held the seed, of its own
destruction within itself. It was not surprising, however, that a strong
declaration in favor of the Catholic religion should be contained in a
document intended for circulation through all the provinces. The object
was to unite as large a force, and to make as striking a demonstration
before the eyes of the Governor General as was practicable under the
circumstances. The immediate purpose was answered, temporary union was
formed, but it was impossible that a permanent crystallization should
take place where so strong a dissolvent as the Catholic clause had been
admitted. In the sequel, therefore, the union fell asunder precisely at
this fatal flaw. The next union was that which definitely separated the
provinces into Protestant, and Catholic, into self-governing republics,
and the dependencies of a distant despotism. The immediate effect,
however, of the "Brussels Union" was to rally all lovers of the
fatherland and haters of a foreign tyranny upon one vital point--the
expulsion of the stranger from the land. The foot of the Spanish soldier
should no longer profane their soil. All men were forced to pronounce
themselves boldly and unequivocally, in order that the patriots might
stand shoulder to shoulder, and the traitors be held up to infamy. This
measure was in strict accordance with the advice given more than once by
the Prince of Orange, and was almost in literal fulfilment of the
Compromise, which he had sketched before the arrival of Don John.
The deliberations were soon resumed with the new Governor, the scene
being shifted from Luxemburg to Huy. Hither came a fresh deputation from
the states-general--many signers of the Brussels Union among them--and
were received by Don John with stately courtesy: They had, however, come,
determined to carry matters with a high and firm hand, being no longer
disposed to brook his imperious demeanour, nor to tolerate his dilatory
policy. It is not surprising, therefore, that the courtesy soon changed
to bitterness, and that attack and recrimination usurped the place of the
dignified but empty formalities which had characterized the interviews at
Luxemburg.
The envoys, particularly Sweveghem and Champagny, made no concealment of
their sentiments towards the Spanish soldiery and the Spanish nation, and
used a freedom of tone and language which the petulant soldier had not
been accustomed to hear. He complained, at the outset, that the
Netherlanders seemed new-born--that instead of bending the knee, they
seemed disposed to grasp the sceptre. Insolence had taken the place of
pliancy, and the former slave now applied the chain and whip to his
master. With such exacerbation of temper at the commencement of
negotiations, their progress was of necessity stormy and slow.
The envoys now addressed three concise questions to the Governor. Was he
satisfied that the Ghent Pacification contained nothing conflicting with
the Roman religion and the King's authority? If so, was he willing to
approve that treaty in all its articles? Was he ready to dismiss his
troops at once, and by land, the sea voyage being liable to too many
objections?
Don John answered these three questions--which, in reality, were but
three forms of a single question--upon the same day, the 24th of January.
His reply was as complex as the demand had been simple. It consisted of
a proposal in six articles, and a requisition in twenty-one, making in
all twenty-seven articles. Substantially he proposed to dismiss the
foreign troops--to effect a general pacification of the Netherlands--
to govern on the basis of the administration in his imperial father's
reign--to arrange affairs in and with regard to the assembly-general as
the King should judge to be fitting--to forgive and forget past offences
--and to release all prisoners. On the other hand he required the
estates to pay the troops before their departure, and to provide ships
enough to transport them, as the Spaniards did not choose to go by land,
and as the deputies, at Luxemburg had consented to their removal by sea.
Furthermore, he demanded that the states should dismiss their own troops.
He required ecclesiastical authority to prove the Ghent Pacification not
prejudicial to the Catholic religion; legal authority that it was not
detrimental to his Majesty's supremacy; and an oath from the states-
general to uphold both points inviolably, and to provide for their
maintenance in Holland and Zealand. He claimed the right to employ about
his person soldiers and civil functionaries of any nation he might
choose, and he exacted from the states a promise to prevent the Prince of
Orange from removing his son, Count van Buren, forcibly or fraudulently,
from his domicile in Spain.
The deputies were naturally indignant at this elaborate trifling. They
had, in reality, asked him but one question, and that a simple one--Would
he maintain the treaty of Ghent? Here were twenty-seven articles in
reply, and yet no answer to that question. They sat up all night,
preparing a violent protocol, by which the Governor's claims were to be
utterly demolished. Early in the morning, they waited upon his Highness,
presented the document, and at the same time asked him plainly, by word
of mouth, did he or did he not intend to uphold the treaty. Thus pressed
into a corner in presence of the deputies, the members of the State
Council who were in attendance from Brussels, and the envoys whom the
Emperor had recently sent to assist at these deliberations, the Governor
answered, No. He would not and could not maintain the treaty, because
the Spanish troops were in that instrument denounced as rebels, because
he would not consent to the release of Count Van Buren--and on account of
various other reasons not then specified. Hereupon ensued a fierce
debate, and all day long the altercation lasted, without a result being
reached. At ten o'clock in the evening, the deputies having previously
retired for a brief interval, returned with a protest that they were not
to be held responsible for the, termination of the proceedings, and that
they washed their hands of the bloodshed which might follow the rupture.
Upon reading this document; Don John fell into a blazing passion. He
vehemently denounced the deputies as traitors. He swore that men who
came to him thus prepared with ready-made protests in their pockets, were
rebels from the commencement, and had never intended any agreement with
him. His language and gestures expressed unbounded fury. He was weary
of their ways, he said. They had better look to themselves, for the King
would never leave their rebellion unpunished. He was ready to draw the
sword at once--not his own, but his Majesty's, and they might be sure
that the war which they were thus provoking, should be the fiercest ever,
waged. More abusive language in this strain was uttered, but it was not
heard with lamb-like submission. The day had gone by when the deputies
of the states-general were wont to quail before the wrath of vicarious
royalty. The fiery words of Don John were not oil to troubled water, but
a match to a mine. The passions of the deputies exploded in their turn,
and from hot words they had nearly come to hard blows. One of the
deputies replied with so much boldness and vehemence that the Governor,
seizing a heavy silver bell which stood on the table, was about to hurl
it at the offender's head, when an energetic and providential
interference on the part of the imperial envoys, prevented the unseemly
catastrophe.
The day thus unprofitably spent, had now come to its close, and the
deputies left the presence of Don John with tempers as inflamed as his
own. They were, therefore, somewhat surprised at being awakened in their
beds, after midnight, by a certain Father Trigoso, who came to them with
a conciliatory message from the Governor. While they were still rubbing
their eyes with sleep and astonishment, the Duke of Aerschot, the Bishop
of Liege, and several councillors of state, entered the room. These
personages brought the news that Don John had at last consented to
maintain the Pacification of Ghent, as would appear by a note written in
his own hand, which was then delivered. The billet was eagerly read, but
unfortunately did not fulfil the anticipations which had been excited.
"I agree," said Don John, "to approve the peace made between the states
and the Prince of Orange, on condition that nothing therein may seem
detrimental to the authority of his Majesty and the supremacy of the
Catholic religion, and also with reservation of the points mentioned in
my last communication."
Men who had gone to bed in a high state of indignation were not likely to
wake in much better humour, when suddenly aroused in their first nap, to
listen to such a message as this. It seemed only one piece of trifling
the more. The deputies had offered satisfactory opinions of divines and
jurisconsults, as to the two points specified which concerned the Ghent
treaty. It was natural, therefore, that this vague condition concerning
them, the determination of which was for the Governor's breast alone,
should be instantly rejected, and that the envoys should return to their
disturbed slumbers with an increase of ill-humour.
On the morrow, as the envoys, booted and spurred, were upon the point of
departure for Brussels, another communication was brought to them from
Don John. This time, the language of the Governor seemed more to the
purpose. "I agree," said he, "to maintain the peace concluded between
the states and the Prince of Orange, on condition of receiving from the
ecclesiastical authorities, and from the University of Louvain,
satisfactory assurance that the said treaty contains nothing derogatory
to the Catholic religion--and similar assurance from the State Council,
the Bishop of Liege, and the imperial envoys, that the treaty is in no
wise prejudicial to the authority of his Majesty." Here seemed, at last,
something definite. These conditions could be complied with. They had,
in fact, been already complied with. The assurances required as to the
two points had already been procured, as the deputies and as Don John
well knew. The Pacification of Ghent was, therefore, virtually admitted.
The deputies waited upon the Governor accordingly, and the conversation
was amicable. They vainly endeavoured, however, to obtain his consent to
the departure of the troops by land--the only point then left in dispute.
Don John, still clinging to his secret scheme, with which the sea voyage
of the troops was so closely connected, refused to concede. He
reproached the envoys, on the contrary, with their importunity in making
a fresh demand, just as he had conceded the Ghent treaty, upon his entire
responsibility and without instructions. Mentally resolving that this
point should still be wrung from the Governor, but not suspecting his
secret motives for resisting it so strenuously, the deputies took an
amicable farewell of the Governor, promising a favorable report upon
the proceedings, so soon as they should arrive in Brussels.
Don John, having conceded so much, was soon obliged to concede the whole.
The Emperor Rudolph had lately succeeded his father, Maximilian. The
deceased potentate, whose sentiments on the great subject of religious
toleration were so much in harmony with those entertained by the Prince
of Orange, had, on the whole, notwithstanding the ties of relationship
and considerations of policy, uniformly befriended the Netherlands, so
far as words and protestations could go, at the court of Philip. Active
co-operation; practical assistance, he had certainly not rendered. He
had unquestionably been too much inclined to accomplish the impossibility
of assisting the states without offending the King--an effort which, in
the homely language of Hans Jenitz; was "like wishing his skin washed
without being wet." He had even interposed many obstacles to the free
action of the Prince, as has been seen in the course of this history, but
nevertheless, the cause of the Netherlands, of religion, and of humanity
had much to lose by his death. His eldest son and successor, Rudolph the
second, was an ardent Catholic, whose relations with a proscribed prince
and a reformed population could hardly remain long in a satisfactory
state. The New Emperor had, however, received the secret envoys of
Orange with bounty, and was really desirous of accomplishing the
pacification of the provinces. His envoys had assisted at all the
recent deliberations between the estates and Don John, and their vivid
remonstrances removed, at this juncture, the last objection on the part
of the Governor-General. With a secret sigh, he deferred the darling and
mysterious hope which had lighted him to the Netherlands, and consented
to the departure of the troops by land.
All obstacles having been thus removed, the memorable treaty called the
Perpetual Edict was signed at Marche en Famine on the 12th, and at
Brussels on the 17th of February, 1577. This document, issued in the
name of the King, contained nineteen articles. It approved and ratified
the Peace of Ghent, in consideration that the prelates and clergy, with
the doctors 'utriusque juris' of Louvain, had decided that nothing in
that treaty conflicted either with the supremacy of the Catholic Church
or the authority of the King, but, on the contrary, that it advanced the
interests of both. It promised that the soldiery should depart "freely,
frankly, and without delay; by land, never to return except in case of
foreign war"--the Spaniards to set forth within forty days, the Germans
and others so soon as arrangements had been made by the states-general
for their payment. It settled that all prisoners, on both sides, should
be released, excepting the Count Van Buren, who was to be set free so
soon as the states-general having been convoked, the Prince of Orange
should have fulfilled the resolutions to be passed by that assembly.
It promised the maintenance of all the privileges, charters, and
constitutions of the Netherlands. It required of the states all oath to
maintain the Catholic religion. It recorded their agreement to disband
their troops. It settled that Don John should be received as Governor-
General, immediately upon the departure of the Spaniards, Italians, and
Burgundians from the provinces.
These were the main provisions of this famous treaty, which was confirmed
a few weeks afterwards by Philip, in a letter addressed to the states of
Brabant, and by an edict issued at Madrid. It will be seen that
everything required by the envoys of the states, at the commencement
of their negotiations, had been conceded by Don John. They had claimed
the departure of the troops, either by land or sea. He had resisted the
demand a long time, but had at last consented to despatch them by sea.
Their departure by land had then been insisted upon. This again he had
most reluctantly conceded. The ratification of the Ghent treaty, he had
peremptorily refused. He had come to the provinces, at the instant of
its conclusion, and had, of course, no instructions on the subject.
Nevertheless, slowly receding, he had agreed, under certain reservations,
to accept the treaty. Those reservations relating to the great points of
Catholic and royal supremacy, he insisted upon subjecting to his own
judgment alone. Again he was overruled. Most unwillingly he agreed to
accept, instead of his own conscientious conviction, the dogmas of the
State Council and of the Louvain doctors. Not seeing very clearly how a
treaty which abolished the edicts of Charles the Fifth and the ordinances
of Alva--which removed the religious question in Holland and Zealand from
the King's jurisdiction to that of the states-general--which had caused
persecution to surcease--had established toleration--and which moreover,
had confirmed the arch rebel and heretic of all the Netherlands in the
government of the two rebellious and heretic provinces, as stadholder for
the King--not seeing very clearly how such a treaty was "advantageous
rather than prejudicial to royal absolutism and an exclusive
Catholicism," he naturally hesitated at first.
The Governor had thus disconcerted the Prince of Orange, not by the
firmness of his resistance, but by the amplitude of his concessions.
The combinations of William the Silent were, for an instant, deranged.
Had the Prince expected such liberality, he would have placed his demands
upon a higher basis, for it is not probable that he contemplated or
desired a pacification. The Duke of Aerschot and the Bishop of Liege in
vain essayed to prevail upon his deputies at Marche en Famine, to sign
the agreement of the 27th January, upon which was founded the Perpetual
Edict. They refused to do so without consulting the Prince and the
estates. Meantime, the other commissioners forced the affair rapidly
forward. The states sent a deputation to the Prince to ask his opinion,
and signed the agreement before it was possible to receive his reply.
This was to treat him with little courtesy, if not absolutely with bad
faith. The Prince was disappointed and indignant. In truth, as appeared
from all his language and letters, he had no confidence in Don John.
He believed him a consummate hypocrite, and as deadly a foe to the
Netherlands as the Duke of Alva, or Philip himself. He had carefully
studied twenty-five intercepted letters from the King, the Governor,
Jerome de Roda, and others, placed recently in his hands by the Duke of
Aerschot, and had found much to confirm previous and induce fresh
suspicion. Only a few days previously to the signature of the treaty,
he had also intercepted other letters from influential personages, Alonzo
de Vargas and others, disclosing extensive designs to obtain possession
of the strong places in the country, and then to reduce the land to
absolute Subjection. He had assured the estates, therefore, that the
deliberate intention of the Government, throughout the whole negotiation,
was to deceive, whatever might be the public language of Don John and his
agents. He implored them, therefore, to, have "pity upon the poor
country," and to save the people from falling into the trap which was
laid for them. From first to last, he had expressed a deep and wise
distrust, and justified it by ample proofs. He was, with reason,
irritated, therefore, at the haste with which the states had concluded
the agreement with Don John--at the celerity with which, as he afterwards
expressed it, "they had rushed upon the boar-spear of that sanguinary
heart." He believed that everything had been signed and Sworn by the
Governor, with the mental reservation that such agreements were valid
only until he should repent having made them. He doubted the good faith
and the stability of the grand seigniors. He had never felt confidence
in the professions of the time-serving Aerschot, nor did he trust even
the brave Champagny, notwithstanding his services at the sack of Antwerp.
He was especially indignant that provision had been made, not for
demolishing but for restoring to his Majesty those hateful citadels,
nests of tyranny, by which the flourishing cities of the land were kept
in perpetual anxiety. Whether in the hands of King, nobles, or
magistrates, they were equally odious to him, and he had long since
determined that they should be razed to the ground. In short, he
believed that the estates had thrust their heads into the lion's mouth,
and he foresaw the most gloomy consequences from the treaty which had
just been concluded. He believed, to use his own language, "that the
only difference between Don John and Alva or Requesens was, that he was
younger and more foolish than his predecessors, less capable of
concealing his venom, more impatient, to dip his hands in blood."
In the Pacification of Ghent, the Prince had achieved the prize of his
life-long labors. He had banded a mass of provinces by the ties of a
common history, language, and customs, into a league against a foreign
tyranny. He had grappled Holland and Zealand to their sister provinces
by a common love for their ancient liberties, by a common hatred to a
Spanish soldiery. He had exorcised the evil demon of religious bigotry
by which the body politic had been possessed so many years; for the Ghent
treaty, largely interpreted, opened the door to universal toleration. In
the Perpetual Edict the Prince saw his work undone. Holland and Zealand
were again cut adrift from the other fifteen provinces, and war would
soon be let loose upon that devoted little territory. The article
stipulating the maintenance of the Ghent treaty he regarded as idle wind;
the solemn saws of the State Council and the quiddities from Louvain
being likely to prove but slender bulwarks against the returning tide of
tyranny. Either it was tacitly intended to tolerate the Reformed
religion, or to hunt it down. To argue that the Ghent treaty, loyally
interpreted, strengthened ecclesiastical or royal despotism, was to
contend that a maniac was more dangerous in fetters than when armed with
a sword; it was to be blind to the difference between a private
conventicle and a public scaffold. The Perpetual Edict, while affecting
to sustain the treaty, would necessarily destroy it at a blow, while
during the brief interval of repose, tyranny would have renewed its youth
like the eagles. Was it possible, then, for William of Orange to sustain
the Perpetual Edict, the compromise with Don John? Ten thousand ghosts
from the Lake of Harlem, from the famine and plague-stricken streets of
Leyden, from the smoking ruins of Antwerp, rose to warn him against such
a composition with a despotism as subtle as it was remorseless.
It was, therefore, not the policy of William of Orange, suspecting,
as he did, Don John, abhorring Philip, doubting the Netherland nobles,
confiding only in the mass of the citizens, to give his support to the
Perpetual Edict. He was not the more satisfied because the states had
concluded the arrangement without his sanction, and against his express,
advice. He refused to publish or recognize the treaty in Holland and
Zealand. A few weeks before, he had privately laid before the states of
Holland and Zealand a series of questions, in order to test their temper,
asking them, in particular, whether they were prepared to undertake a new
and sanguinary war for the sake of their religion, even although their
other privileges should be recognised by the new government, and a long
and earnest debate had ensued, of a satisfactory nature, although no
positive resolution was passed upon the subject.
As soon as the Perpetual Edict had been signed, the states-general had
sent to the Prince, requesting his opinion and demanding his sanction.
Orange, in the name of Holland and Zealand, instantly returned an
elaborate answer, taking grave exceptions to the whole tenor of the
Edict. He complained that the constitution of the land was violated,
because the ancient privilege of the states-general to assemble at their
pleasure, had been invaded, and because the laws of every province were
set at nought by the continued imprisonment of Count Van Buren, who had
committed no crime, and whose detention proved that no man, whatever
might be promised, could expect security for life or liberty. The
ratification of the Ghent treaty, it was insisted, was in no wise
distinct and categorical, but was made dependent on a crowd of deceitful
subterfuges. He inveighed bitterly against the stipulation in the Edict,
that the states should pay the wages of the soldiers, whom they had just
proclaimed to be knaves and rebels, and at whose hands they had suffered
such monstrous injuries. He denounced the cowardice which could permit
this band of hirelings to retire with so much jewelry, merchandize, and
plate, the result of their robberies. He expressed, however, in the name
of the two provinces, a willingness to sign the Edict, provided the
states-general would agree solemnly beforehand, in case the departure of
the Spaniards did not take place within the stipulated tune, to abstain
from all recognition of, or communication with, Don John, and themselves
to accomplish the removal of the troops by force of arms.
Such was the first and solemn manifesto made by the Prince in reply to
the Perpetual Edict; the states of Holland and Zealand uniting heart and
hand in all that he thought, wrote, and said. His private sentiments
were in strict accordance with the opinions thus publicly recorded.
"Whatever appearance Don John may assume to the contrary," wrote the
Prince to his brother, "'tis by no means his intention to maintain the
Pacification, and less still to cause the Spaniards to depart, with whom
he keeps up the most strict correspondence possible."
On the other hand, the Governor was most anxious to conciliate the
Prince. He was most earnest to win the friendship of the man without
whom every attempt to recover Holland and Zealand, and to re-establish
royal and ecclesiastical tyranny, he knew to be hopeless. "This is the
pilot," wrote Don John to Philip, "who guides the bark. He alone can
destroy or save it. The greatest obstacles would be removed if he could
be gained." He had proposed, and Philip had approved the proposition,
that the Count Van Buren should be clothed with his father's dignities,
on condition that the Prince should himself retire into Germany. It was
soon evident, however, that such a proposition would meet with little
favor, the office of father of his country and protector of her liberties
not being transferable.
While at Louvain, whither he had gone after the publication of the
Perpetual Edict, Don John had conferred with the Duke of Aerschot,
and they had decided that it would be well to send Doctor Leoninus on
a private mission to the Prince. Previously to his departure on this
errand, the learned envoy had therefore a full conversation with the
Governor. He was charged to represent to the Prince the dangers to
which Don John had exposed himself in coming from Spain to effect the
pacification of the Netherlands. Leoninus was instructed to give
assurance that the treaty just concluded should be maintained, that the
Spaniards should depart, that all other promises should be inviolably
kept, and that the Governor would take up arms against all who should
oppose the fulfilment of his engagements. He was to represent that Don
John, in proof of his own fidelity, had placed himself in the power of
the states. He was to intimate to the Prince that an opportunity was now
offered him to do the crown a service, in recompence for which he would
obtain, not only pardon for his faults, but the favor of the monarch, and
all the honors which could be desired; that by so doing he would assure
the future prosperity of his family; that Don John would be his good
friend, and, as such; would do more for him than he could imagine. The
envoy was also to impress upon the Prince, that if he persisted in his
opposition every man's hand would be against him, and the ruin of his
house inevitable. He was to protest that Don John came but to forgive
and to forget, to restore the ancient government and the ancient
prosperity, so that, if it was for those objects the Prince had taken up
arms, it was now his duty to lay them down, and to do his utmost to
maintain peace and the Catholic religion. Finally, the envoy was to
intimate that if he chose to write to Don John, he might be sure to
receive a satisfactory answer. In these pacific instructions and
friendly expressions, Don John was sincere. "The name of your Majesty,"
said he, plainly, in giving an account of this mission to the King,
"is as much abhorred and despised in the Netherlands as that of the
Prince of Orange is loved and feared. I am negotiating with him, and
giving him every security, for I see that the establishment of peace,
as well as the maintenance of the Catholic religion, and the obedience
to your Majesty, depend now upon him. Things have reached that pass that
'tis necessary to make a virtue of necessity. If he lend an ear to my
proposals, it will be only upon very advantageous conditions, but to
these it will be necessary to submit, rather than to lose everything."
Don John was in earnest; unfortunately he was not aware that the Prince
was in earnest also. The crusader, who had sunk thirty thousand paynims
at a blow, and who was dreaming of the Queen of Scotland and the throne
of England, had not room in his mind to entertain the image of a patriot.
Royal favors, family prosperity, dignities, offices, orders, advantageous
conditions, these were the baits with which the Governor angled for
William of Orange. He did not comprehend that attachment to a half-
drowned land and to a despised religion, could possibly stand in the way
of those advantageous conditions and that brilliant future. He did not
imagine that the rebel, once assured not only of pardon but of
advancement, could hesitate to refuse the royal hand thus amicably
offered. Don John had not accurately measured his great antagonist.
The results of the successive missions which he despatched to the Prince
were destined to enlighten him. In the course of the first conversation
between Leoninus and the Prince at Middelburg, the envoy urged that Don
John had entered the Netherlands without troops, that he had placed
himself in the power of the Duke of Aerschot, that he had since come
to Louvain without any security but the promise of the citizens and
of the students; and that all these things proved the sincerity of his
intentions. He entreated the Prince not to let slip so favorable an
opportunity for placing his house above the reach of every unfavorable
chance, spoke to him of Marius, Sylla, Julius Caesar, and other promoters
of civil wars, and on retiring for the day, begged him to think gravely
on what he had thus suggested, and to pray that God might inspire him
with good resolutions.
Next day, William informed the envoy that, having prayed to God for
assistance, he was more than ever convinced of his obligation to lay the
whole matter before the states, whose servant he was. He added, that he
could not forget the deaths of Egmont and Horn, nor the manner in which
the promise made to the confederate nobles by the Duchess of Parma, had
been visited, nor the conduct of the French monarch towards Admiral
Coligny. He spoke of information which he had received from all
quarters, from Spain, France, and Italy, that there was a determination
to make war upon him and upon the states of Holland and Zealand. He
added that they were taking their measures in consequence, and that they
were well aware that a Papal nuncio had arrived in the Netherlands, to
intrigue against them. In the evening, the Prince complained that the
estates had been so precipitate in concluding their arrangement with Don
John. He mentioned several articles in the treaty which were calculated
to excite distrust; dwelling particularly on the engagement entered into
by the estates to maintain the Catholic religion. This article he
declared to be in direct contravention to the Ghent treaty, by which this
point was left to the decision of a future assembly of the estates-
general. Leoninus essayed, as well as he could, to dispute these
positions. In their last interview, the Prince persisted in his
intention of laying the whole matter before the states of Holland
and Zealand. Not to do so, he said, would be to expose himself to ruin
on one side, and on the other, to the indignation of those who might
suspect him of betraying them. The envoy begged to be informed if any
hope could be entertained of a future arrangement. Orange replied that
he had no expectation of any, but advised Doctor Leoninus to be present
at Dort when the estates should assemble.
Notwithstanding the unfavorable result, of this mission, Don John did
not even yet despair of bending the stubborn character of the Prince.
He hoped that, if a personal interview between them could be arranged,
he should be able to remove many causes of suspicion from the mind of
his adversary. "In such times as these," wrote the Governor to Philip,
"we can make no election, nor do I see any remedy to preserve the state
from destruction, save to gain over this man, who has so much influence
with the nation." The Prince had, in truth, the whole game in his hands.
There was scarcely a living creature in Holland and Zealand who was not
willing to be bound by his decision in every emergency. Throughout the
rest of the provinces, the mass of the people looked up to him with
absolute confidence, the clergy and the prominent nobles respecting and
fearing him, even while they secretly attempted to thwart his designs.
Possessing dictatorial power in two provinces, vast influences in the
other fifteen, nothing could be easier for him than to betray his
country. The time was singularly propitious. The revengeful King was
almost on his knees to the denounced rebel. Everything was proffered:
pardon, advancement, power. An indefinite vista was opened. "You cannot
imagine," said Don John, "how much it will be within my ability to do for
you." The Governor was extremely anxious to purchase the only enemy whom
Philip feared. The Prince had nothing personally to gain by a
continuance of the contest. The ban, outlawry, degradation, pecuniary.
ruin, assassination, martyrdom--these were the only guerdons he could
anticipate. He had much to lose: but yesterday loaded with dignities,
surrounded by pomp and luxury, with many children to inherit his worldly
gear, could he not recover all; and more than all, to-day? What service
had he to render in exchange? A mere nothing. He had but to abandon the
convictions of a lifetime, and to betray a million or two of hearts which
trusted him.
As to the promises made by the Governor to rule the country with
gentleness, the Prince could not do otherwise than commend the intention,
even while distrusting the fulfilment. In his reply to the two letters
of Don John, he thanked his Highness, with what seemed a grave irony,
for the benign courtesy and signal honor which he had manifested to him,
by inviting him so humanely and so carefully to a tranquil life, wherein,
according to his Highness, consisted the perfection of felicity in this
mortal existence, and by promising him so liberally favor and grace.
He stated, however, with earnestness, that the promises in regard to
the pacification of the poor Netherland people were much more important.
He had ever expected, he said, beyond all comparison, the welfare and
security of the public before his own; "having always placed his
particular interests under his foot, even as he was still resolved to do,
as long as life should endure."
Thus did William of Orange receive the private advances made by the
government towards himself. Meantime, Don John of Austria came to
Louvain. Until the preliminary conditions of the Perpetual Edict had
been fulfilled, and the Spanish troops sent out of the country, he was
not to be received as Governor-General, but it seemed unbecoming for him
to remain longer upon the threshold of the provinces. He therefore
advanced into the heart of the country, trusting himself without troops
to the loyalty of the people, and manifesting a show of chivalrous
confidence which he was far from feeling. He was soon surrounded by
courtiers, time-servers, noble office-seekers. They who had kept
themselves invisible, so long as the issue of a perplexed negotiation
seemed doubtful, now became obsequious and inevitable as his shadow.
One grand seignior wanted a regiment, another a government, a third a
chamberlain's key; all wanted titles, ribbons, offices, livery, wages.
Don John distributed favors and promises with vast liberality. The
object with which Philip had sent him to the Netherlands, that he might
conciliate the hearts of its inhabitants by the personal graces which he
had inherited from his imperial father, seemed in a fair way of
accomplishment, for it was not only the venal applause of titled
sycophants that he strove to merit, but he mingled gaily and familiarly
with all classes of citizens. Everywhere his handsome face and charming
manner produced their natural effect. He dined and supped with the
magistrates in the Town-house, honored general banquets of the burghers
with his presence, and was affable and dignified, witty, fascinating, and
commanding, by turns. At Louvain, the five military guilds held a solemn
festival. The usual invitations were sent to the other societies,
and to all the martial brotherhoods, the country round. Gay and gaudy
processions, sumptuous banquets, military sports, rapidly succeeded
each other. Upon the day of the great trial of skill; all the high
functionaries of the land were, according to custom, invited, and the
Governor was graciously pleased to honor the solemnity with his presence.
Great was the joy of the multitude when Don John, complying with the
habit of imperial and princely personages in former days, enrolled
himself, cross-bow in hand, among the competitors. Greater still was the
enthusiasm, when the conqueror of Lepanto brought down the bird, and was
proclaimed king of the year, amid the tumultuous hilarity of the crowd.
According to custom, the captains of the guild suspended a golden
popinjay around the neck of his Highness, and placing themselves in
procession, followed him to the great church. Thence, after the
customary religious exercises, the multitude proceeded to the banquet,
where the health of the new king of the cross-bowmen was pledged in deep
potations. Long and loud was the merriment of this initiatory festival,
to which many feasts succeeded during those brief but halcyon days, for
the good-natured Netherlanders already believed in the blessed advent
of peace. They did not dream that the war, which had been consuming
the marrow of their commonwealth for ten flaming years, was but in its
infancy, and that neither they nor their children were destined to see
its close.
For the moment, however, all was hilarity at Louvain. The Governor,
by his engaging deportment, awoke many reminiscences of the once popular
Emperor. He expressed unbounded affection for the commonwealth, and
perfect confidence in the loyalty of the inhabitants. He promised to
maintain their liberties, and to restore their prosperity. Moreover, he
had just hit the popinjay with a skill which his imperial father might
have envied, and presided at burgher banquets with a grace which Charles
could have hardly matched. His personal graces, for the moment, took the
rank of virtues. "Such were the beauty and vivacity of his eyes," says
his privy councillor, Tassis, "that with a single glance he made all
hearts his own," yet, nevertheless, the predestined victim secretly felt
himself the object of a marksman who had no time for painted popinjays,
but who rarely missed his aim. "The whole country is at the devotion of
the Prince, and nearly every one of its inhabitants;" such was his secret
language to his royal brother, at the very moment of the exuberant
manifestations which preceded his own entrance to Brussels.
While the Governor still tarried at Louvain, his secretary, Escovedo,
was busily engaged in arranging the departure of the Spaniards, for,
notwithstanding his original reluctance and the suspicions of Orange, Don
John loyally intended to keep his promise. He even advanced twenty-seven
thousand florins towards the expense of their removal, but to raise the
whole amount required for transportation and arrears, was a difficult
matter. The estates were slow in providing the one hundred and fifty
thousand florins which they had stipulated to furnish. The King's
credit, moreover, was at a very low, ebb. His previous bonds had not
been duly honored, and there had even been instances of royal
repudiation, which by no means lightened the task of the financier,
in effecting the new loans required. Escovedo was very blunt in his
language upon this topic, and both Don John and himself urged punctuality
in all future payments. They entreated that the bills drawn in Philip's
name upon Lombardy bankers, and discounted at a heavy rate of interest,
by the Fuggers of Antwerp, might be duly provided for at maturity.
"I earnestly beg," said Escovedo, "that your Majesty will see to the
payment of these bills, at all events;" adding, with amusing simplicity,
"this will be a means of recovering your Majesty's credit, and as for my
own; I don't care to lose it, small though it be." Don John was even
more solicitous. "For the love of God, Sire," he wrote, "do not be
delinquent now. You must reflect upon the necessity of recovering your
credit. If this receives now the final blow, all will desert your
Majesty, and the soldiers too will be driven to desperation."
By dint of great diligence on the part of Escovedo, and through the
confidence reposed in his character, the necessary funds were raised in
the course of a few weeks. There was, however, a difficulty among the
officers, as to the right of commanding the army on the homeward march.
Don Alonzo de Vargas, as chief of the cavalry, was appointed to the post
by the Governor, but Valdez, Romero, and other veterans, indignantly
refused to serve under one whom they declared their inferior officer.
There was much altercation and heartburning, and an attempt was made to
compromise the matter by the appointment of Count Mansfeld to the chief
command. This was, however, only adding fuel to the flames. All were
dissatisfied with the superiority accorded to a foreigner, and Alonzo de
Vargas, especially offended, addressed most insolent language to the
Governor. Nevertheless, the arrangement was maintained, and the troops
finally took their departure from the country, in the latter days of
April. A vast concourse of citizens witnessed their departure, and could
hardly believe their eyes, as they saw this incubus at last rolling off,
by which the land had so many years been crushed. Their joy, although
extravagant, was, however, limited by the reflection that ten thousand
Germans still remained in the provinces, attached to the royal service,
and that there was even yet a possibility that the departure of the
Spaniards was a feint. In truth, Escovedo, although seconding the orders
of Don John, to procure the removal of these troops, did not scruple to
express his regret to the King, and his doubts as to the result. He had
been ever in hopes that an excuse might be found in the condition of
affairs in France, to justify the retention of the forces near that
frontier. He assured the King that he felt very doubtful as to what
turn matters might take, after the soldiers were gone, seeing the great
unruliness which even their presence had been insufficient completely to
check. He had hoped that they might be retained in the neighbourhood,
ready to seize the islands at the first opportunity. "For my part," he
wrote, "I care nothing for the occupation of places within the interior,
but the islands must be secured. To do this," he continued, with a
deceitful allusion to the secret projects of Don John, "is, in my
opinion, more difficult than to effect the scheme upon England. If the
one were accomplished, the other would be easily enough managed, and
would require but moderate means. Let not your Majesty suppose that I
say this as favoring the plan of Don John, for this I put entirely behind
me."
Notwithstanding these suspicions on the part of the people, this
reluctance on the part of then government, the troops readily took up
their line of march, and never paused till they reached Lombardy. Don
John wrote repeatedly to the King, warmly urging the claims of these
veterans, and of their distinguished officers, Romero, Avila, Valdez,
Montesdocca, Verdugo, Mondragon, and others, to his bountiful
consideration. They had departed in very ill humour, not having
received any recompense for their long and arduous services. Certainly,
if unflinching endurance, desperate valor, and congenial cruelty, could
atone in the monarch's eyes for the mutiny, which had at last compelled
their withdrawal, then were these laborers worthy of their hire. Don
John had pacified them by assurances that they should receive adequate
rewards on their arrival in Lombardy, and had urged the full satisfaction
of their claims and his promises in the strongest language. Although Don
Alonzo de Vargas had abused him "with-flying colors," as he expressed
himself, yet he hastened to intercede for him with the King in the most
affectionate terms. "His impatience has not surprised me," said the
Governor, "although I regret that he has been offended, far I love and
esteem him much. He has served many years with great distinction, and I
can certify that his character for purity and religion is something
extraordinary."
The first scene in the withdrawal of the troops had been the evacuation
of the citadel of Antwerp, and it had been decided that the command of
this most important fortress should be conferred upon the Duke of
Aerschot. His claims as commander-in-chief, under the authority of the
State Council, and as chief of the Catholic nobility, could hardly be
passed over, yet he was a man whom neither party trusted. He was too
visibly governed by interested motives. Arrogant where he felt secure of
his own, or doubtful as to another's position, he could be supple and
cringing when the relations changed. He refused an interview with
William of Orange before consulting with Don John, and solicited one
afterwards when he found that every effort was to be made to conciliate
the Prince. He was insolent to the Governor-General himself in February,
and respectful in March. He usurped the first place in the church,
before Don John had been acknowledged Governor, and was the first to go
forth to welcome him after the matter had been arranged. He made a scene
of virtuous indignation in the State Council, because he was accused of
place-hunting, but was diligent to secure an office of the highest
dignity which the Governor could bestow. Whatever may have been his
merits, it is certain that he inspired confidence neither in the
adherents of the King nor of the Prince; while he by turns professed
the warmest regard both to the one party and the other. Spaniards and
patriots, Protestants and Catholics, suspected the man at the same
moment, and ever attributed to his conduct a meaning which was the
reverse of the apparent. Such is often the judgment passed upon those
who fish in troubled waters only to fill their own nets.
The Duke, however, was appointed Governor of the citadel. Sancho
d'Avila, the former constable, refused, with Castillian haughtiness,
to surrender the place to his successor, but appointed his lieutenant,
Martin d'Oyo, to perform that ceremony. Escovedo, standing upon the
drawbridge with Aerschot, administered the oath: "I, Philip, Duke of
Aerschot," said the new constable, "solemnly swear to hold this castle
for the King, and for no others." To which Escovedo added, "God help
you, with all his angels, if you keep your oath; if not, may the Devil
carry you away, body and soul." The few bystanders cried Amen; and with
this hasty ceremony, the keys were delivered, the prisoners, Egmont,
Capres, Goignies, and others, liberated, and the Spaniards ordered to
march forth.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
A terrible animal, indeed, is an unbridled woman
Agreements were valid only until he should repent
All Protestants were beheaded, burned, or buried alive
Arrive at their end by fraud, when violence will not avail them
Attachment to a half-drowned land and to a despised religion
Barbara Blomberg, washerwoman of Ratisbon
Believed in the blessed advent of peace
Compassing a country's emancipation through a series of defeats
Don John of Austria
Don John was at liberty to be King of England and Scotland
Ferocity which even Christians could not have surpassed
Happy to glass themselves in so brilliant a mirror
His personal graces, for the moment, took the rank of virtues
Necessary to make a virtue of necessity
One-half to Philip and one-half to the Pope and Venice (slaves)
Quite mistaken: in supposing himself the Emperor's child
Sentimentality that seems highly apocryphal
She knew too well how women were treated in that country
Those who fish in troubled waters only to fill their own nets
Worn crescents in their caps at Leyden
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1576-77 ***
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