of Tholouse, and of his brother St. Aldegonde, as his reward for the
Ostrawell victory, while Noircarmes was at this very moment to commence
at Valenciennes that career of murder and spoliation which, continued at
Mons a few years afterwards, was to load his name with infamy.
From such a Regent, surrounded by such councillors, was the work of
William de Nassau's hands to gain applause? What was it to them that
carnage and plunder had been spared in one of the richest and most
populous cities in Christendom? Were not carnage and plunder the very
elements in which they disported themselves? And what more dreadful
offence against God and Philip could be committed than to permit, as the
Prince had just permitted, the right of worship in a Christian land to
Calvinists and Lutherans? As a matter of course, therefore, Margaret of
Parma denounced the terms by which Antwerp had been saved as a "novel and
exorbitant capitulation," and had no intention of signifying her
approbation either to prince or magistrate.
1567 [CHAPTER X.]
Egmont and Aerschot before Valenciennes--Severity of Egmont--
Capitulation of the city--Escape and capture of the ministers--
Execution of La Grange and De Bray--Horrible cruelty at
Valenciennes--Effects of the reduction of Valenciennes--The Duchess
at Antwerp--Armed invasion of the provinces decided upon in Spain--
Appointment of Alva--Indignation of Margaret--Mission of De Billy--
Pretended visit of Philip--Attempts of the Duchess to gain over
Orange--Mission of Berty--Interview between Orange and Egmont at
Willebroek--Orange's letters to Philip, to Egmont, and to Horn--
Orange departs from the Netherlands--Philip's letter to Egmont--
Secret intelligence received by Orange--La Torre's mission to
Brederode--Brederode's departure and death--Death of Bergen--Despair
in the provinces--Great emigration--Cruelties practised upon those
of the new religion--Edict of 24th May--Wrath of the King.
Valenciennes, whose fate depended so closely upon the issue of these
various events, was now trembling to her fall. Noircarmes had been
drawing the lines more and more closely about the city, and by a
refinement of cruelty had compelled many Calvinists from Tournay to act
as pioneers in the trenches against their own brethren in Valenciennes.
After the defeat of Tholouse, and the consequent frustration of all
Brederode's arrangements to relieve the siege, the Duchess had sent a
fresh summons to Valenciennes, together with letters acquainting the
citizens with the results of the Ostrawell battle. The intelligence was
not believed. Egmont and Aerschot, however, to whom Margaret had
entrusted this last mission to the beleaguered town, roundly rebuked the
deputies who came to treat with them, for their insolence in daring to
doubt the word of the Regent. The two seigniors had established
themselves in the Chateau of Beusnage, at a league's distance from
Valenciennes. Here they received commissioners from the city, half of
whom were Catholics appointed by the magistrates, half Calvinists deputed
by the consistories. These envoys were informed that the Duchess would
pardon the city for its past offences, provided the gates should now be
opened, the garrison received, and a complete suppression of all religion
except that of Rome acquiesced in without a murmur. As nearly the whole
population was of the Calvinist faith, these terms could hardly be
thought favorable. It was, however, added, that fourteen days should be
allowed to the Reformers for the purpose of converting their property,
and retiring from the country.
The deputies, after conferring with their constituents in the, city,
returned on the following day with counter-propositions, which were not
more likely to find favor with the government. They offered to accept
the garrison, provided the soldiers should live at their own expense,
without any tax to the citizens for their board, lodging, or pay. They
claimed that all property which had been seized should be restored, all
persons accused of treason liberated. They demanded the unconditional
revocation of the edict by which the city had been declared rebellious,
together with a guarantee from the Knights of the Fleece and the state
council that the terms of the propose& treaty should be strictly
observed.
As soon as these terms had been read to the two seigniors, the Duke of
Aerschot burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. He protested that
nothing could be more ludicrous than such propositions, worthy of a
conqueror dictating a peace, thus offered by a city closely beleaguered,
and entirely at the mercy of the enemy. The Duke's hilarity was not
shared by Egmont, who, on the contrary, fell into a furious passion. He
swore that the city should be burned about their ears, and that every one
of the inhabitants should be put to the sword for the insolent language
which they had thus dared to address to a most clement sovereign. He
ordered the trembling deputies instantly to return with this peremptory
rejection of their terms, and with his command that the proposals of
government should be accepted within three days' delay.
The commissioners fell upon their knees at Egmont's feet, and begged for
mercy. They implored him at least to send this imperious message by some
other hand than theirs, and to permit them to absent themselves from the
city. They should be torn limb from limb, they said, by the enraged
inhabitants, if they dared to present themselves with such instructions
before them. Egmont, however, assured them that they should be sent into
the city, bound hand and foot, if they did not instantly obey his orders.
The deputies, therefore, with heavy hearts, were fain to return home with
this bitter result to their negotiations. The, terms were rejected, as a
matter of course, but the gloomy forebodings of the commissioners, as to
their own fate at the hands of their fellow-citizens, were not fulfilled.
Instant measures were now taken to cannonade the city. Egmont, at the
hazard of his life, descended into the foss, to reconnoitre the works,
and to form an opinion as to the most eligible quarter at which to direct
the batteries. Having communicated the result of his investigations to
Noircarmes, he returned to report all these proceedings to the Regent at
Brussels. Certainly the Count had now separated himself far enough from
William of Orange, and was manifesting an energy in the cause of tyranny
which was sufficiently unscrupulous. Many people who had been deceived
by his more generous demonstrations in former times, tried to persuade
themselves that he was acting a part. Noircarmes, however--and no man
was more competent to decide the question distinctly--expressed his
entire confidence in Egmont's loyalty. Margaret had responded warmly to
his eulogies, had read with approbation secret letters from Egmont to
Noircarmes, and had expressed the utmost respect and affection for "the
Count." Egmont had also lost no time in writing to Philip, informing him
that he had selected the most eligible spot for battering down the
obstinate city of Valenciennes, regretting that he could not have had the
eight or ten military companies, now at his disposal, at an earlier day,
in which case he should have been able to suppress many tumults, but
congratulating his sovereign that the preachers were all fugitive, the
reformed religion suppressed, and the people disarmed. He assured the
King that he would neglect no effort to prevent any renewal of the
tumults, and expressed the hope that his Majesty would be satisfied with
his conduct, notwithstanding the calumnies of which the times were full.
Noircarmes meanwhile, had unmasked his batteries, and opened his fire
exactly according to Egmont's suggestions.
The artillery played first upon what was called the "White Tower," which
happened to bear this ancient, rhyming inscription:
"When every man receives his own,
And justice reigns for strong and weak,
Perfect shall be this tower of stone,
And all the dumb will learn to speak."
"Quand chacun sera satisfaict,
Et la justice regnera,
Ce boulevard sera parfaict,
Et--la muette parlera."--Valenciennes MS.
For some unknown reason, the rather insipid quatrain was tortured into a
baleful prophecy. It was considered very ominous that the battery should
be first opened against this Sibylline tower. The chimes, too, which had
been playing, all through the siege, the music of Marot's sacred songs,
happened that morning to be sounding forth from every belfry the twenty-
second psalm: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
It was Palm Sunday, 23d of March. The women and children were going
mournfully about the streets, bearing green branches in their hands, and
praying upon their knees, in every part of the city. Despair and
superstition had taken possession of citizens, who up to that period had
justified La Noue's assertion, that none could endure a siege like
Huguenots. As soon as the cannonading began, the spirit of the
inhabitants seemed to depart. The ministers exhorted their flocks in
vain as the tiles and chimneys began to topple into the streets, and the
concussions of the artillery were responded to by the universal wailing
of affrighted women.
Upon the very first day after the unmasking of the batteries, the city
sent to Noircarmes, offering almost an unconditional surrender. Not the
slightest breach had been effected--not the least danger of an assault
existed--yet the citizens, who had earned the respect of their
antagonists by the courageous manner in which they had sallied and
skirmished during the siege, now in despair at any hope of eventual
succor, and completely demoralized by the course of recent events outside
their walls, surrendered ignominiously, and at discretion. The only
stipulation agreed to by Noircarmes was, that the city should not be
sacked, and that the lives of the inhabitants should be spared.
This pledge was, however, only made to be broken. Noircarmes entered the
city and closed the gates. All the richest citizens, who of course were
deemed the most criminal, were instantly arrested. The soldiers,
although not permitted formally to sack the city, were quartered upon the
inhabitants, whom they robbed and murdered, according to the testimony of
a Catholic citizen, almost at their pleasure.
Michael Herlin, a very wealthy and distinguished burgher, was arrested
upon the first day. The two ministers, Guido de Bray and Peregrine de
la Grange, together with the son of Herlin, effected their escape by the
water-gate. Having taken refuge in a tavern at Saint Arnaud, they were
observed, as they sat at supper, by a peasant, who forthwith ran off to
the mayor of the borough with the intelligence that some individuals,
who looked like fugitives, had arrived at Saint Arnaud. One of them,
said the informer, was richly dressed; and wore a gold-hilted sword with
velvet scabbard. By the description, the mayor recognized Herlin the
younger,--and suspected his companions. They were all arrested, and sent
to Noircarmes. The two Herlins, father and son, were immediately
beheaded. Guido de Bray and Peregrine de la Grange were loaded with
chains, and thrown into a filthy dungeon, previously to their being
hanged. Here they were visited by the Countess de Roeulx, who was
curious to see how the Calvinists sustained themselves in their
martyrdom. She asked them how they could sleep, eat, or drink, when
covered with such heavy fetters. "The cause, and my good conscience,"
answered De Bray, "make me eat, drink, and sleep better than those who
are doing me wrong. These shackles are more honorable to me than golden
rings and chains. They are more useful to me, and as I hear their clank,
methinks I hear the music of sweet voices and the tinkling of lutes."
This exultation never deserted these courageous enthusiasts. They
received their condemnation to death "as if it had been an invitation to
a marriage feast." They encouraged the friends who crowded their path to
the scaffold with exhortations to remain true in the Reformed faith. La
Grange, standing upon the ladder, proclaimed with a loud voice, that he
was slain for having preached the pure word of God to a Christian people
in a Christian land. De Bray, under the same gibbet; testified stoutly
that he, too, had committed that offence alone. He warned his friends to
obey the magistrates, and all others in authority, except in matters of
conscience; to abstain from sedition; but to obey the will of God. The
executioner threw him from the ladder while he was yet speaking. So
ended the lives of two eloquent, learned, and highly-gifted divines.
Many hundreds of victims were sacrificed in the unfortunate city.
"There were a great many other citizens strangled or beheaded," says an
aristocratic Catholic historian of the time, "but they were mostly
personages of little quality, whose names are quite unknown to me."--
[Pontus Payen]--The franchises of the city were all revoked. There was a
prodigious amount of property confiscated to the benefit of Noircarmes
and the rest of the "Seven Sleepers." Many Calvinists were burned,
others were hanged. "For--two whole years," says another Catholic, who
was a citizen of Valenciennes at the time, "there was, scarcely a week in
which several citizens were not executed and often a great number were
despatched at a time. All this gave so much alarm to the good and
innocent, that many quitted the city as fast as they could." If the good
and innocent happened to be rich, they might be sure that Noircarmes
would deem that a crime for which no goodness and innocence could atone.
Upon the fate of Valenciennes had depended, as if by common agreement,
the whole destiny of the anti-Catholic party. "People had learned at
last," says another Walloon, "that the King had long arms, and that he
had not been enlisting soldiers to string beads. So they drew in their
horns and their evil tempers, meaning to put them forth again, should the
government not succeed at the siege of Valenciennes." The government had
succeeded, however, and the consternation was extreme, the general
submission immediate and even abject. "The capture of Valenciennes,"
wrote Noircarmes to Granvelle, "has worked a miracle. The other cities
all come forth to meet me, putting the rope around their own necks."
No opposition was offered any where. Tournay had been crushed;
Valenciennes, Bois le Duc, and all other important places, accepted their
garrisons without a murmur. Even Antwerp had made its last struggle, and
as soon as the back of Orange was turned, knelt down in the dust to
receive its bridle. The Prince had been able, by his courage and wisdom,
to avert a sanguinary conflict within its walls, but his personal
presence alone could guarantee any thing like religious liberty for the
inhabitants, now that the rest of the country was subdued. On the 26th
April, sixteen companies of infantry, under Count Mansfeld, entered the
gates. On the 28th the Duchess made a visit to the city, where she was
received with respect, but where her eyes were shocked by that which she
termed the "abominable, sad, and hideous spectacle of the desolated
churches."
To the eyes of all who loved their fatherland and their race, the sight
of a desolate country, with its ancient charters superseded by brute
force, its industrious population swarming from the land in droves, as if
the pestilence were raging, with gibbets and scaffolds erected in every
village, and with a Sickening and universal apprehension of still darker
disasters to follow, was a spectacle still more sad, hideous, and
abominable.
For it was now decided that the Duke of Alva, at the head of a Spanish
army, should forthwith take his departure for the Netherlands. A land
already subjugated was to be crushed, and every vestige of its ancient
liberties destroyed. The conquered provinces, once the abode of
municipal liberty, of science, art, and literature, and blessed with an
unexampled mercantile and manufacturing prosperity, were to be placed in
absolute subjection to the cabinet council at Madrid. A dull and
malignant bigot, assisted by a few Spanish grandees, and residing at the
other extremity of Europe, was thenceforth to exercise despotic authority
over countries which for centuries had enjoyed a local administration,
and a system nearly approaching to complete self-government. Such was
the policy devised by Granvelle and Spinosa, which the Duke of Alva, upon
the 15th April, had left Madrid to enforce.
It was very natural that Margaret of Parma should be indignant at being
thus superseded. She considered herself as having acquired much credit
by the manner in which the latter insurrectionary movements had been
suppressed, so soon as Philip, after his endless tergiversations, had
supplied her with arms and money. Therefore she wrote in a tone of great
asperity to her brother, expressing her discontent. She had always been
trammelled in her action, she said, by his restrictions upon her
authority. She complained that he had no regard for her reputation or
her peace of mind. Notwithstanding, all impediments and dangers, she had
at last settled the country, and now another person was to reap the
honor. She also despatched the Seigneur de Billy to Spain, for the
purpose of making verbal representations to his Majesty upon the
inexpediency of sending the Duke of Alva to the Netherlands at that
juncture with a Spanish army.
Margaret gained nothing, however, by her letters and her envoy, save a
round rebuke from Philip, who was not accustomed to brook the language
of remonstrance; even from his sister. His purpose was fixed. Absolute
submission was now to be rendered by all. "He was highly astonished and
dissatisfied," he said, "that she should dare to write to him with so
much passion, and in so resolute a manner. If she received no other
recompense, save the glory of having restored the service of God, she
ought to express her gratitude to the King for having given her the
opportunity of so doing."
The affectation of clement intentions was still maintained, together with
the empty pretence of the royal visit. Alva and his army were coming
merely to prepare the way for the King, who still represented himself as
"debonair and gentle, slow to anger, and averse from bloodshed."
Superficial people believed that the King was really coming, and hoped
wonders from his advent. The Duchess knew better. The Pope never
believed in it, Granvelle never believed in it, the Prince of Orange
never believed in it, Councillor d'Assonleville never believed in it.
"His Majesty," says the Walloon historian, who wrote from Assonleville's
papers, "had many imperative reasons for not coming. He was fond of
quiet, he was a great negotiator, distinguished for phlegm and modesty,
disinclined to long journeys, particularly to sea voyages, which were
very painful to him. Moreover, he was then building his Escorial with so
much taste and affection that it was impossible for him to leave home."
These excellent reasons sufficed to detain the monarch, in whose place a
general was appointed, who, it must be confessed, was neither phlegmatic
nor modest, and whose energies were quite equal to the work required.
There had in truth never been any thing in the King's project of visiting
the Netherlands but pretence.
On the other hand, the work of Orange for the time was finished. He had
saved Antwerp, he had done his best to maintain the liberties of the
country, the rights of conscience, and the royal authority, so far as
they were compatible with each other. The alternative had now been
distinctly forced upon every man, either to promise blind obedience or
to accept the position of a rebel. William of Orange had thus become a
rebel. He had been requested to sign the new oath, greedily taken by the
Mansfelds, the Berlaymont, the Aerachot, and the Egmonts, to obey every
order which he might receive, against every person and in every place,
without restriction or limitation,--and he had distinctly and repeatedly
declined the demand. He had again and again insisted upon resigning all
his offices. The Duchess, more and more anxious to gain over such an
influential personage to the cause of tyranny, had been most importunate
in her requisitions. "A man with so noble a heart," she wrote to the
Prince, "and with a descent from, such illustrious and loyal ancestors,
can surely not forget his duties to his Majesty and the country."
William of Orange knew his duty to both better than the Duchess could
understand. He answered this fresh summons by reminding her that he had
uniformly refused the new and extraordinary pledge required of him. He
had been true to his old oaths, and therefore no fresh pledge was
necessary. Moreover, a pledge without limitation he would never take.
The case might happen, he said, that he should be ordered to do things
contrary to his conscience, prejudicial to his Majesty's service, and in
violation of his oaths to maintain the laws of the country. He therefore
once more resigned all his offices, and signified his intention of
leaving the provinces.
Margaret had previously invited him to an interview at Brussels, which he
had declined, because he had discovered a conspiracy in that place to
"play him a trick." Assonleville had already been sent to him without
effect. He had refused to meet a deputation of Fleece Knights at
Mechlin, from the same suspicion of foul play. After the termination of
the Antwerp tumult, Orange again wrote to the Duchess, upon the 19th
March, repeating his refusal to take the oath, and stating that he
considered himself as at least suspended from all his functions, since
she had refused, upon the ground of incapacity, to accept his formal
resignation. Margaret now determined, by the advice of the state
council, to send Secretary Berty, provided with an ample letter of
instructions, upon a special mission to the Prince at Antwerp. That
respectable functionary performed his task with credit, going through the
usual formalities, and adducing the threadbare arguments in favor of the
unlimited oath, with much adroitness and decorum. He mildly pointed out
the impropriety of laying down such responsible posts as those which the
Prince now occupied at such a juncture. He alluded to the distress which
the step must occasion to the debonair sovereign.
William of Orange became somewhat impatient under the official lecture
of this secretary to the privy council, a mere man of sealing-wax and
protocols. The slender stock of platitudes with which he had come
provided was soon exhausted. His arguments shrivelled at once in the
scorn with which the Prince received them. The great statesman, who, it
was hoped, would be entrapped to ruin, dishonor, and death by such very
feeble artifices, asked indignantly whether it were really expected that
he should acknowledge himself perjured to his old obligations by now
signing new ones; that he should disgrace himself by an unlimited pledge
which might require him to break his oaths to the provincial statutes and
to the Emperor; that he should consent to administer the religious edicts
which he abhorred; that he should act as executioner of Christians on
account of their religious opinions, an office against which his soul
revolted; that he should bind himself by an unlimited promise which might
require, him to put his own wife to death, because she was a Lutheran?
Moreover, was it to be supposed that he would obey without restriction
any orders issued to him in his Majesty's name, when the King's
representative might be a person whose supremacy it ill became one of
his' race to acknowledge? Was William of Orange to receive absolute
commands from the Duke of Alva? Having mentioned that name with
indignation, the Prince became silent.