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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 33
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1580-1582
By John Lothrop Motley
1855
CHAPTER IV.
Captivity of La Noue--Cruel propositions of Philip--Siege of
Groningen--Death of Barthold Enter--His character--Hohenlo commands
in the north--His incompetence--He is defeated on Hardenberg Heath--
Petty operations--Isolation of Orange--Dissatisfaction and departure
of Count John--Remonstrance of Archduke Matthias--Embassy to Anjou--
Holland and Zealand offer the sovereignty to Orange--Conquest of
Portugal--Granvelle proposes the Ban against the Prince--It is
published--The document analyzed--The Apology of Orange analyzed and
characterized--Siege of Steenwyk by Renneberg--Forgeries--Siege
relieved--Death of Renneberg--Institution of the "land-Council"--
Duchess of Parma sent to the Netherlands--Anger of Alexander--
Prohibition of Catholic worship in Antwerp, Utrecht, and elsewhere--
Declaration of Independence by the United Provinces--Negotiations
with Anjou--The sovereignty of Holland and Zealand provisionally
accepted by Orange--Tripartition of the Netherlands--Power of the
Prince described--Act of Abjuration analyzed--Philosophy of
Netherland politics.--Views of the government compact--Acquiescence
by the people in the action of the estates--Departure of Archduke
Matthias.
The war continued in a languid and desultory manner in different parts of
the country. At an action near Ingelmunster, the brave and accomplished
De la Noue was made prisoner. This was a severe loss to the states, a
cruel blow to Orange, for he was not only one of the most experienced
soldiers, but one of the most accomplished writers of his age. His pen
was as celebrated as his sword. In exchange for the illustrious
Frenchman the states in vain offered Count Egmont, who had been made
prisoner a few weeks before, and De Belles, who was captured shortly
afterwards. Parma answered contemptuously, that he would not give a lion
for two sheep. Even Champagny was offered in addition, but without
success. Parma had written to Philip, immediately upon the capture,
that, were it not for Egmont, Seller, and others, then in the power of
Oranges he should order the execution of La Noue. Under the
circumstances, however, he had begged to be in formed as to his Majesty's
pleasure, and in the meantime had placed the prisoner in the castle of
Limburg, under charge of De Billy.
[Strada, d. 2, iii. 155, 156. Parma is said to have hinted to
Philip that De Billy would willingly undertake, the private
assassination of La Noue.--Popeliniere, Hist. des Pays Bas; 1556-
1584.]
His Majesty, of course, never signified his pleasure, and the illustrious
soldier remained for five years in a loathsome dungeon more befitting a
condemned malefactor than a prisoner of war. It was in the donjon keep
of the castle, lighted only by an aperture in the roof, and was therefore
exposed to the rain and all inclemencies of the sky, while rats, toads,
and other vermin housed in the miry floor. Here this distinguished
personage, Francis with the Iron Arm, whom all Frenchmen, Catholic or
Huguenot, admired far his genius, bravery, and purity of character,
passed five years of close confinement. The government was most anxious
to take his life, but the captivity of Egmont and others prevented the
accomplishment of their wishes. During this long period, the wife and
numerous friends of La Noue were unwearied in, their efforts to effect
his ransom or exchange, but none of the prisoners in the hands of the
patriots were considered a fair equivalent. The hideous proposition was
even made by Philip the Second to La Noue, that he should receive his
liberty if he would permit his eyes to be put out, as a preliminary
condition. The fact is attested by several letters written by La Noue to
his wife. The prisoner, wearied, shattered in health, and sighing for
air and liberty, was disposed and even anxious to accept the infamous
offer, and discussed the matter philosophically in his letters. That
lady, however, horror-struck at the suggestion, implored him to reject
the condition, which he accordingly consented to do. At last, in June,
1585, he was exchanged, on extremely rigorous terms, for Egmont. During
his captivity in this vile dungeon, he composed not only his famous
political and military discourses, but several other works, among the
rest; Annotations upon Plutarch and upon the Histories of Guicciardini.
The siege of Groningen proceeded, and Parma ordered some forces under
Martin Schenck to advance to its relief. On the other hand, the meagre
states' forces under Sonoy, Hohenlo, Entes, and Count John of Nassau's
young son, William Louis, had not yet made much impression upon the city.
There was little military skill to atone for the feebleness of the
assailing army, although there was plenty of rude valor. Barthold Entes,
a man of desperate character, was impatient at the dilatoriness of the
proceedings. After having been in disgrace with the states, since the
downfall of his friend and patron, the Count De la Marck, he had recently
succeeded to a regiment in place of Colonel Ysselstein, "dismissed for a
homicide or two." On the 17th of May, he had been dining at Rolda, in
company with Hohenlo and the young Count of Nassau. Returning to the
trenches in a state of wild intoxication, he accosted a knot of superior
officers, informing them that they were but boys, and that he would show
them how to carry the faubourg of Groningen on the instant. He was
answered that the faubourg, being walled and moated, could be taken only
by escalade or battery. Laughing loudly, he rushed forward toward the
counterscarp, waving his sword, and brandishing on his left arm the cover
of a butter firkin, which he had taken instead of his buckler. He had
advanced, however, but a step, when a bullet from the faubourg pierced
his brain, and he fell dead without a word.
So perished one of the wild founders of the Netherland commonwealth--one
of the little band of reckless adventurers who had captured the town of
Brill in 1572, and thus laid the foundation stone of a great republic,
which was to dictate its laws to the empire of Charles the Fifth. He was
in some sort a type. His character was emblematical of the worst side of
the liberating movement. Desperate, lawless, ferocious--a robber on
land, a pirate by sea--he had rendered great service in the cause of his
fatherland, and had done it much disgrace. By the evil deeds of men like
himself, the fair face of liberty had been profaned at its first
appearance. Born of a respectable family, he had been noted, when a
student in this very Groningen where he had now found his grave, for the
youthful profligacy of his character. After dissipating his partrimony,
he had taken to the sea, the legalized piracy of the mortal struggle with
Spain offering a welcome refuge to spendthrifts like himself. In common
with many a banished noble of ancient birth and broken fortunes, the
riotous student became a successful corsair, and it is probable that his
prizes were made as well among the friends as the enemies of his country.
He amassed in a short time one hundred thousand crowns--no contemptible
fortune in those days. He assisted La Marck in the memorable attack upon
Brill, but behaved badly and took to flight when Mondragon made his
memorable expedition to relieve Tergoes. He had subsequently been
imprisoned, with La Marck for insubordination, and during his confinement
had dissipated a large part of his fortune. In 1574, after the violation
of the Ghent treaty, he had returned to, his piratical pursuits, and
having prospered again as rapidly as he had done during his former
cruises, had been glad to exchange the ocean for more honorable service
on shore. The result was the tragic yet almost ludicrous termination
which we have narrated. He left a handsome property, the result of his
various piracies, or, according to the usual euphemism, prizes. He often
expressed regret at the number of traders whom he had cast into the sea,
complaining, in particular, of one victim whom he had thrown overboard,
who would never sink, but who for years long ever floated in his wake,
and stared him in the face whenever he looked over his vessel's side. A
gambler, a profligate, a pirate, he had yet rendered service to the cause
of freedom, and his name--sullying the purer and nobler ones of other
founders of the commonwealth--"is enrolled in the capitol."
Count Philip Hohenlo, upon whom now, devolved the, entire responsibility
of the Groningen siege and of the Friesland operations, was only a few
degrees superior to this northern corsair. A noble of high degree,
nearly connected with the Nassau family, sprung of the best blood in
Germany, handsome and dignified in appearance, he was, in reality only a
debauchee and a drunkard. Personal bravery was his main qualification
for a general; a virtue which he shared with many of his meanest
soldiers. He had never learned the art of war, nor had he the least
ambition to acquire it. Devoted to his pleasures, he depraved those
under his command, and injured the cause for which he was contending.
Nothing but defeat and disgrace were expected by the purer patriots from
such guidance. "The benediction of God," wrote Albada, "cannot be hoped
for under this chieftain, who by life and manners is fitter to drive
swine than to govern pious and honorable men."
The event justified the prophecy. After a few trifling operations before
Groningen, Hohenlo was summoned to the neighbourhood of Coewerden, by the
reported arrival of Martin Schenck, at the head of a considerable force.
On the 15th of June, the Count marched all night and a part of the follow
morning, in search of the enemy. He came up with them upon Hardenberg
Heath, in a broiling summer forenoon. His men were jaded by the forced
march, overcame with the heat, tormented with thirst, and unable to
procure even a drop of water. The royalists were fresh so that the
result of the contest was easily to be foreseen. Hohenlo's army was
annihilated in an hour's time, the whole population fled out of
Coewerden, the siege of Groningen was raised; Renneberg was set free to
resume his operations on a larger scale, and the fate of all the north-
eastern provinces was once more swinging in the wind. The boors of
Drenthe and Friesland rose again. They had already mustered in the field
at an earlier season of the year, in considerable force. Calling
themselves "the desperates," and bearing on their standard an eggshell
with the yolk running out--to indicate that, having lost the meat they
were yet ready to fight for the shell--they had swept through the open
country, pillaging and burning. Hohenlo had defeated them in two
enchanters, slain a large number of their forces, and reduced them for
a time to tranquillity. His late overthrow once more set them loose.
Renneberg, always apt to be over-elated in prosperity, as he was unduly
dejected in adversity, now assumed all the airs of a conqueror. He had
hardly eight thousand men under his orders, but his strength lay in the
weakness of his adversaries. A small war now succeeded, with small
generals, small armies, small campaigns, small sieges. For the time, the
Prince of Orange was even obliged to content himself with such a general
as Hohenlo. As usual, he was almost alone. "Donec eris felix," said he,
emphatically--
"multos numerabis amicos,
Tempera cum erunt nubila, nullus erit,"
and he was this summer doomed to a still harder deprivation by the final
departure of his brother John from the Netherlands.
The Count had been wearied out by petty miseries. His stadholderate of
Gelderland had overwhelmed him with annoyance, for throughout the north-
eastern provinces there was neither system nor subordination. The
magistrates could exercise no authority over an army which they did not
pay, or a people whom they did not protect. There were endless quarrels
between the various boards of municipal and provincial government--
particularly concerning contributions and expenditures.
[When the extraordinary generosity of the Count himself; and the
altogether unexampled sacrifices of the Prince are taken into
account, it may well be supposed that the patience of the brothers
would be sorely tried by the parsimony of the states. It appears by
a document laid before the states-general in the winter of 1580-
1581, that the Count had himself advanced to Orange 570,000 florins
in the cause. The total of money spent by the Prince himself for
the sake of Netherland liberty was 2,200,000. These vast sums had
been raised in various ways and from various personages. His
estates were deeply hypothecated, and his creditors so troublesome,
that, in his own language, he was unable to attend properly to
public affairs, so frequent and so threatening were the applications
made upon him for payment. Day by day he felt the necessity
advancing more closely upon him of placing himself personally in the
hands of his creditors and making over his estates to their mercy
until the uttermost farthing should be paid. In his two campaigns
against Alva (1568 and 1572) he had spent 1,050,000 florins. He
owed the Elector Palatine 150,000 florins, the Landgrave 60,000,
Count John 670,000, and other sums to other individuals.]
During this wrangling, the country was exposed to the forces of Parma, to
the private efforts of the Malcontents, to the unpaid soldiery of the
states, to the armed and rebellious peasantry. Little heed was paid to
the admonitions of Count John, who was of a hotter temper than was the
tranquil Prince. The stadholder gave way to fits of passion at the
meanness and the insolence to which he was constantly exposed. He
readily recognized his infirmity, and confessed himself unable to
accommodate his irascibility to the "humores" of the inhabitants. There
was often sufficient cause for his petulance. Never had praetor of a
province a more penurious civil list. "The baker has given notice,"
wrote Count John, in November, "that he will supply no more bread after
to-morrow, unless he is paid." The states would furnish no money to pay
the, bill. It was no better with the butcher. "The cook has often no
meat to roast," said the Count, in the same letter, "so that we are often
obliged to go supperless to bed." His lodgings were a half-roofed, half-
finished, unfurnished barrack, where the stadholder passed his winter
days and evenings in a small, dark, freezing-cold chamber, often without
fire-wood. Such circumstances were certainly not calculated to excite
envy. When in addition to such wretched parsimony, it is remembered that
the Count was perpetually worried by the quarrels of the provincial
authorities with each other and with himself, he may be forgiven for
becoming thoroughly exhausted at last. He was growing "grey and
grizzled" with perpetual perplexity. He had been fed with annoyance,
as if--to use his own homely expression--"he had eaten it with a spoon."
Having already loaded himself with a debt of six hundred thousand
florins, which he had spent in the states' service, and having struggled
manfully against the petty tortures of his situation, he cannot be
severely censured for relinquishing his post. The affairs of his own
Countship were in great confusion. His children--boys and girls--were
many, and needed their fathers' guidance, while the eldest, William
Louis, was already in arms for the-Netherlands, following the instincts
of his race. Distinguished for a rash valor, which had already gained
the rebuke of his father and the applause of his comrades, he had
commenced his long and glorious career by receiving a severe wound at
Coewerden, which caused him to halt for life. Leaving so worthy a
representative, the Count was more justified in his departure.
His wife, too, had died in his absence, and household affairs required
his attention. It must be confessed, however, that if the memory of his
deceased spouse had its claims, the selection of her successor was still
more prominent among his anxieties. The worthy gentleman had been
supernaturally directed as to his second choice, ere that choice seemed
necessary, for before the news of his wife's death had reached him, the
Count dreamed that he was already united in second nuptials to the fair
Cunigunda, daughter of the deceased Elector Palatine--a vision which was
repeated many times. On the morrow he learned, to his amazement, that
he was a widower, and entertained no doubt that he had been specially
directed towards the princess seen in his slumbers, whom he had never
seen in life. His friends were in favor of his marrying the Electress
Dowager, rather than her daughter, whose years numbered less than half
his own. The honest Count, however, "after ripe consideration,"
decidedly preferred the maid to the widow. "I confess," he said, with
much gravity, "that the marriage with the old Electress, in respect of
her God-fearing disposition, her piety, her virtue, and the like, would
be much more advisable. Moreover, as she hath borne her cross, and knows
how to deal with gentlemen, so much the better would it be for me.
Nevertheless, inasmuch as she has already had two husbands, is of a
tolerable age, and is taller of stature than myself, my inclination is
less towards her than towards her daughter."
For these various considerations, Count John, notwithstanding the
remonstrances of his brother, definitely laid down his government of
Gelderland, and quitted the Netherlands about midsummer. Enough had not
been done, in the opinion of the Prince, so long as aught remained to do,
and he could not bear that his brother should desert the country in the
hour of its darkness, or doubt the Almighty when his hand was veiled in
clouds. "One must do one's best," said he, "and believe that when such
misfortunes happen, God desires to prove us. If He sees that we do not
lose our courage, He will assuredly help us. Had we thought otherwise,
we should never have pierced the dykes on a memorable occasion, for it
was an uncertain thing and a great sorrow for the poor people; yet did
God bless the undertaking. He will bless us still, for his arm hath not
been shortened."
On the 22nd of July, 1580, the Archduke Matthias, being fully aware of
the general tendency of affairs, summoned a meeting of the generality in
Antwerp. He did not make his appearance before the assembly, but
requested that a deputation might wait upon him at his lodgings, and to
this committee he unfolded his griefs. He expressed his hope that the
states were not--in violation of the laws of God and man--about to throw
themselves into the arms of a foreign prince. He reminded them of their
duty to the holy Catholic religion to the illustrious house of Austria,
while he also pathetically called their attention to the necessities of
his own household, and hoped that they would, at least, provide for the
arrears due to his domestics.
The states-general replied with courtesy as to the personal claims of the
Archduke. For the rest, they took higher grounds, and the coming
declaration of independence already pierced through the studied decorum
of their language. They defended their negotiation with Anjou on the
ground of necessity, averring that the King of Spain had proved
inexorable to all intercession, while, through the intrigues of their
bitterest enemies, they had been entirely forsaken by the Empire.
Soon afterwards, a special legation, with Saint Aldegonde at its head,
was despatched to France to consult with the Duke of Anjou, and settled
terms of agreement with him by the treaty of Plessis les Tours (on the
29th of September, 1580), afterwards definitely ratified by the
convention of Bordeaux, signed on the 23rd of the following January.
The states of Holland and Zealand, however, kept entirely aloof from this
transaction, being from the beginning opposed to the choice of Anjou.
From the first to the last, they would have no master but Orange, and to
him, therefore, this year they formally offered the sovereignty of their
provinces; but they offered it in vain.
The conquest of Portugal had effected a diversion in the affairs of the
Netherlands. It was but a transitory one. The provinces found the hopes
which they had built upon the necessity of Spain for large supplies in
the peninsula--to their own consequent relief--soon changed into fears,
for the rapid success of Alva in Portugal gave his master additional
power to oppress the heretics of the north. Henry, the Cardinal King,
had died in 1580, after succeeding to the youthful adventurer, Don
Sebastian, slain during his chivalrous African campaign (4th of August,
1578). The contest for the succession which opened upon the death of the
aged monarch was brief, and in fifty-eight days, the bastard Antonio,
Philip's only formidable competitor, had been utterly defeated and driven
forth to lurk, like 'a hunted wild beast, among rugged mountain caverns,
with a price of a hundred thousand crowns upon his head. In the course
of the succeeding year, Philip received homage at Lisbon as King of
Portugal. From the moment of this conquest, he was more disposed, and
more at leisure than ever, to vent his wrath against the Netherlands, and
against the man whom he considered the incarnation of their revolt.
Cardinal Granvelle had ever whispered in the King's ear the expediency
of taking off the Prince by assassination. It has been seen how subtly
distilled, and how patiently hoarded, was this priest's venom against
individuals, until the time arrived when he could administer the poison
with effect. His hatred of Orange was intense and of ancient date. He
was of opinion, too, that the Prince might be scared from the post of
duty, even if the assassin's hand were not able to reach his heart. He
was in favor of publicly setting a price upon his head-thinking that if
the attention of all the murderers in the world were thus directed
towards the illustrious victim, the Prince would tremble at the dangers
which surrounded him. "A sum of money would be well employed in this
way," said the Cardinal, "and, as the Prince of Orange is a vile coward,
fear alone will throw him into confusion." Again, a few months later,
renewing the subject, he observed, "'twould be well to offer a reward of
thirty or forty thousand crowns to any one who will deliver the Prince,
dead or alive; since from very fear of it--as he is pusillanimous--it
would not be unlikely that he should die of his own accord."
It was insulting even to Philip's intelligence to insinuate that the
Prince would shrink before danger, or die of fear. Had Orange ever been
inclined to bombast, he might have answered the churchman's calumny, as
Caesar the soothsayer's warning:--
"-----------------Danger knows full well
That Caesar is more dangerous than he--"
and in truth, Philip had long trembled on his throne before the genius of
the man who had foiled Spain's boldest generals and wiliest statesmen.
The King, accepting the priest's advice, resolved to fulminate a ban
against the Prince, and to set a price upon his head. "It will be well,"
wrote Philip to Parma, "to offer thirty thousand crowns or so to any one
who will deliver him dead or alive. Thus the country may be rid of a man
so pernicious; or at any rate he will be held in perpetual fear, and
therefore prevented from executing leisurely his designs."
In accordance with these suggestions and these hopes, the famous ban was
accordingly drawn up, and dated on the 15th of March, 1580. It was,
however, not formally published in the Netherlands until the month of
June of the same year.
This edict will remain the most lasting monument to the memory of
Cardinal Granvelle. It will be read when all his other state-papers
and epistles--able as they incontestably are--shall have passed into
oblivion. No panegyric of friend, no palliating magnanimity of foe,
can roll away this rock of infamy from his tomb. It was by Cardinal
Granvelle and by Philip that a price was set upon the head of the
foremost man of his age, as if he had been a savage beast, and that
admission into the ranks of Spain's haughty nobility was made the
additional bribe to tempt the assassin.
The ban consisted of a preliminary narrative to justify the penalty with
which it was concluded. It referred to the favors conferred by Philip
and his father upon the Prince; to his-signal ingratitude and
dissimulation. It accused him of originating the Request, the image-
breaking, and the public preaching. It censured his marriage with an
abbess--even during the lifetime of his wife; alluded to his campaigns
against Alva, to his rebellion in Holland, and to the horrible massacres
committed by Spaniards in that province--the necessary consequences of
his treason. It accused him of introducing liberty of conscience, of
procuring his own appointment as Ruward, of violating the Ghent treaty,
of foiling the, efforts of Don John, and of frustrating the counsels of
the Cologne commissioners by his perpetual distrust. It charged him with
a newly-organized conspiracy, in the erection of the Utrecht Union; and
for these and similar crimes--set forth, with involutions, slow, spiral,
and cautious as the head and front of the indictment was direct and
deadly--it denounced the chastisement due to the "wretched hypocrite"
who had committed such offences.
"For these causes," concluded the ban, "we declare him traitor and
miscreant, enemy of ourselves and of the country. As such we banish him
perpetually from all our realms, forbidding all our subjects, of whatever
quality, to communicate with him openly or privately--to administer to
him victuals, drink, fire, or other necessaries. We allow all to injure
him in property or life. We expose the, said William Nassau, as an enemy
of the human-race--giving his property to all who may; seize it. And if
anyone of our subjects or any stranger should be found sufficiently
generous of heart to rid us of this pest, delivering him to us, alive or
dead, or taking his life, we will cause to be furnished to him
immediately after the deed shall have been done, the sum of twenty-five
thousand crowns; in gold. If he have committed any crime, however
heinous, we promise to pardon him; and if he be not already noble, we
will ennoble him for his valor."
Such was the celebrated ban against the Prince of Orange. It was
answered before the end of the year by the memorable "Apology of the
Prince of Orange" one of the moat startling documents in history. No
defiance was ever thundered forth in the face of a despot in more
terrible tones. It had become sufficiently manifest to the royal party
that the Prince was not to be purchased by "millions of money," or by
unlimited family advancement--not to be cajoled by flattery or offers of
illustrious friendship. It had been decided, therefore, to terrify him
into retreat, or to remove him by murder. The Government had been
thoroughly convinced that the only way to finish the revolt, was to
"finish Orange," according to the ancient advice of Antonio Perez. The
mask was thrown off. It had been decided to forbid the Prince bread,
water, fire, and shelter; to give his wealth to the fisc, his heart to
the assassin, his soul, as it was hoped, to the Father of Evil. The
rupture being thus complete, it was right that the "wretched hypocrite"
should answer ban with ban, royal denunciation with sublime scorn. He
had ill-deserved, however, the title of hypocrite, he said. When the
friend of government, he had warned them that by their complicated and
perpetual persecutions they were twisting the rope of their own ruin.
Was that hypocrisy? Since becoming their enemy, there had likewise been
little hypocrisy found in him--unless it were hypocrisy to make open war
upon government, to take their cities, to expel their armies from the
country.
The proscribed rebel, towering to a moral and even social superiority
over the man who affected to be his master by right divine, swept down
upon his antagonist with crushing effect. He repudiated the idea of a
king in the Netherlands. The word might be legitimate in Castillo, or
Naples, or the Indies, but the provinces knew no such title. Philip had
inherited in those countries only the power of Duke or Count--a power
closely limited by constitutions more ancient than his birthright.
Orange was no rebel then--Philip no legitimate monarch. Even were the
Prince rebellious, it was no more than Philip's ancestor, Albert of
Austria, had been towards his anointed sovereign, Emperor Adolphus of
Nassau, ancestor of William. The ties of allegiance and conventional
authority being, severed, it had become idle for the King to affect
superiority of lineage to the man whose family had occupied illustrious
stations when the Habsburgs were obscure squires in Switzerland, and had
ruled as sovereign in the Netherlands before that overshadowing house had
ever been named.
But whatever the hereditary claims of Philip in the country, he had
forfeited them by the violation of his oaths, by his tyrannical
suppression of the charters of the land; while by his personal crimes he
had lost all pretension to sit in judgment upon his fellow man. Was a
people not justified in rising against authority when all their laws had
been trodden under foot, "not once only, but a million of times?"--and
was William of Orange, lawful husband of the virtuous Charlotte de
Bourbon, to be denounced for moral delinquency by a lascivious,
incestuous, adulterous, and murderous king? With horrible distinctness
he laid before the monarch all the crimes of which he believed him
guilty, and having thus told Philip to his beard, "thus diddest thou,"
he had a withering word for the priest who stood at his back. "Tell me,"
he cried, "by whose command Cardinal Granvelle administered poison to the
Emperor Maximilian? I know what the Emperor told me, and how much fear
he felt afterwards for the King and for all Spaniards."
He ridiculed the effrontery of men like Philip and Granvelle; in charging
"distrust" upon others, when it was the very atmosphere of their own
existence. He proclaimed that sentiment to be the only salvation for the
country. He reminded Philip of the words which his namesake of Macedon--
a schoolboy in tyranny, compared to himself--had heard from the lips of
Demosthenes--that the strongest fortress of a free people against a
tyrant was distrust. That sentiment, worthy of eternal memory, the
Prince declared that he had taken from the "divine philippic," to engrave
upon the heart, of the nation, and he prayed God that he might be more
readily believed than the great orator had been by his people.
He treated with scorn the price set upon his head, ridiculing this
project to terrify him, for its want of novelty, and asking the monarch
if he supposed the rebel ignorant of the various bargains which had
frequently been made before with cutthroats and poisoners to take away
his life. "I am in the hand of God," said William of Orange; "my worldly
goods and my life have been long since dedicated to His service. He will
dispose of them as seems best for His glory and my salvation."
On the contrary, however, if it could be demonstrated, or even hoped,
that his absence would benefit the cause of the country, he proclaimed
himself ready to go into exile.
Would to God," said he, in conclusion, that my perpetual banishment, or
even my death, could bring you a true deliverance from so many
calamities. Oh, how consoling would be such banishment--how sweet such a
death! For why have I exposed my property? Was it that I might enrich
myself? Why have I lost my brothers? Was it that I might find new;
ones? Why have I left my son so long a prisoner? Can you give me
another? Why have I put my life so often in, danger? What reward, can
I hope after my long services, and the almost total wreck, of my earthly
fortunes, if not the prize, of having acquired, perhaps at the expense
of my life, your liberty?--If then, my masters, if you judge that my
absence or my death can serve you, behold me ready to obey. Command me
--send me to the ends of the earth--I will obey. Here is my head, over
which no prince, no monarch, has power but yourselves. Dispose of it for
your good, for the preservation of your Republic, but if you judge that
the moderate amount of experience and industry which is in me, if you
judge that the remainder of my property and of my life can yet be of
service to you, I dedicate them afresh to you and to the country."
His motto--most appropriate to his life and character--"Je maintiendrai,"
was the concluding phrase of the document. His arms and signature were
also formally appended, and the Apology, translated into most modern
languages, was sent, to nearly every potentate in Christendom. It had
been previously, on the 13th of December, 1580, read before the assembly
of the united states at Delft, and approved as cordially as the ban was
indignantly denounced.
During the remainder of the year 1580, and the half of the following
year, the seat of hostilities was mainly in the northeast-Parma, while
waiting the arrival of fresh troops, being inactive. The operations,
like the armies and the generals, were petty. Hohenlo was opposed to
Renneberg. After a few insignificant victories, the latter laid siege to
Steenwyk, a city in itself of no great importance, but the key to the
province of Drenthe. The garrison consisted of six hundred soldiers, and
half as many trained burghers. Renneberg, having six thousand foot and
twelve hundred horse, summoned the place to surrender, but was answered
with defiance. Captain Cornput, who had escaped from Groningen, after
unsuccessfully warning the citizens of Renneberg's meditated treason,
commanded in Steenwyk, and his courage and cheerfulness sustained the
population of the city during a close winter siege. Tumultuous mobs in
the streets demanding that the place should be given over ere it was too
late, he denounced to their faces as "flocks of gabbling geese," unworthy
the attention of brave men. To a butcher who, with the instinct of his
craft, begged to be informed what the population were to eat when the
meat was all gone, he coolly observed, "We will eat you, villain, first
of all, when the time comes; so go home and rest assured that you, at
least, are not to die of starvation."
With such rough but cheerful admonitions did the honest soldier, at the
head of his little handful, sustain the courage of the beleaguered city.
Meantime Renneberg pressed it hard. He bombarded it with red-hot balls,
a new invention introduced five years before by Stephen Bathor, King of
Poland, at the siege of Dantzig. Many houses were consumed, but still
Cornput and the citizens held firm. As the winter advanced, and the
succor which had been promised still remained in the distance, Renneberg
began to pelt the city with sarcasms, which, it was hoped, might prove
more effective than the red-hot balls. He sent a herald to know if the
citizens had eaten all their horses yet; a question which was answered by
an ostentatious display of sixty starving hacks--all that could be
mustered-upon the heights. He sent them on another occasion, a short
letter, which ran as follows:
"MOST HONORABLE, MOST STEADFAST,--As, during the present frost, you have
but little exercise in the trenches--as you cannot pass your time in
twirling your finger-rings, seeing that they have all been sold to pay
your soldiers' wages--as you have nothing to rub your teeth upon, nor to
scour your stomachs withal, and as, nevertheless, you require something
if only to occupy your minds, I send you the enclosed letter, in hope it
may yield amusement.--January 15, 1581."
The enclosure was a letter from the Prince of Orange to the Duke of
Anjou, which, as it was pretended, had been intercepted. It was a clumsy
forgery, but it answered the purpose of more skilful counterfeiting, at a
period when political and religious enmity obscured men's judgment. "As
to the point of religion," the Prince was made to observe, for example,
to his illustrious correspondent, "that is all plain and clear. No
sovereign who hopes to come to any great advancement ought to consider
religion, or hold it in regard. Your Highness, by means of the
garrisons, and fortresses, will be easily master of the principal cities
in Flanders and Brabant, even if the citizens were opposed to you.
Afterwards you will compel them without difficulty to any religion
which may seem most conducive to the interests of your Highness."
Odious and cynical as was the whole tone of the letter, it was
extensively circulated. There were always natures base and brutal enough
to accept the calumny and to make it current among kindred souls. It may
be doubted whether Renneberg attached faith to the document; but it was
natural that he should take a malicious satisfaction in spreading this
libel against the man whose perpetual scorn he had so recently earned.
Nothing was more common than such forgeries, and at that very moment a
letter, executed with equal grossness, was passing from hand to hand,
which purported to be from the Count himself to Parma. History has less
interest in contradicting the calumnies against a man like Renneberg.
The fictitious epistle of Orange, however, was so often republished,
and the copies so carefully distributed, that the Prince had thought
it important to add an express repudiation of its authorship, by way of
appendix to his famous Apology. He took the occasion to say, that if a
particle of proof could be brought that he had written the letter, or any
letter resembling it, he would forthwith leave the Netherlands, never to
show his face there again.
Notwithstanding this well known denial, however, Renneberg thought it
facetious to send the letter into Steenvayk, where it produced but small
effect upon the minds' of the burghers. Meantime, they had received
intimation that succor was on its way. Hollow balls containing letters
were shot into the town, bringing the welcome intelligence that the
English colonel, John Norris, with six thousand states' troops, would
soon make his appearance for their relief, and the brave Cornput added
his cheerful exhortations to heighten the satisfaction thus produced.
A day or two afterwards, three quails were caught in the public square,
and the commandant improved the circumstance by many quaint homilies.
The number three, he observed, was typical of the Holy Trinity, which had
thus come symbolically to their relief. The Lord had sustained the
fainting Israelites with quails. The number three indicated three weeks,
within which time the promised succor was sure to arrive. Accordingly,
upon the 22nd of February, 1581, at the expiration of the third week,
Norris succeeded in victualling the town, the merry and steadfast Cornput
was established as a true prophet, and Count Renneberg abandoned the
siege in despair.
The subsequent career of that unhappy nobleman was brief. On the 19th of
July his troops were signally defeated by Sonny--and Norris, the fugitive
royalists retreating into Groningen at the very moment when their
general, who had been prevented by illness from commanding them, was
receiving the last sacraments. Remorse, shame, and disappointment had
literally brought Renneberg to his grave.
"His treason," says a contemporary, "was a nail in his coffin, and on
his deathbed he bitterly bemoaned his crime. 'Groningen! Groningen!'
would that I had never seen thy walls!" he cried repeatedly in his last
hours. He refused to see his sister, whose insidious counsels had
combined with his own evil passions to make him a traitor; and he died on
the 23rd of July, 1581, repentant and submissive. His heart, after his
decease, was found "shrivelled to the dimensions of a walnut," a
circumstance attributed to poison by some, to remorse by others. His
regrets; his early death, and his many attractive qualities, combined to:
save his character from universal denunciation, and his name, although
indelibly stained by treason, was ever mentioned with pity rather than
with rancor.
Great changes, destined to be perpetual, were steadily preparing in the
internal condition of the provinces. A preliminary measure of an
important character had been taken early this year by the assembly of the
united provinces held in the month of January at Delft. This was the
establishment of a general executive council. The constitution of the
board was arranged on the 13th of the month, and was embraced in eighteen
articles. The number of councillors was fixed at thirty, all to be
native Netherlanders; a certain proportion to be appointed from each
province by its estates. The advice and consent of this body as to
treaties with foreign powers were to be indispensable, but they were not
to interfere with the rights and duties of the states-general, nor to
interpose any obstacle to the arrangements with the Duke of Anjou.
While this additional machine for the self-government of the provinces
was in the course of creation; the Spanish monarch, on the other hand,
had made another effort to recover the authority which he felt slipping
from his grasp. Philip was in Portugal, preparing for his coronation in,
that, new kingdom--an event to be nearly contemporaneous with his
deposition from the Netherland sovereignty, so solemnly conferred upon
him a quarter of a century before in Brussels; but although thus distant,
he was confident that he could more wisely govern the Netherlands than
the inhabitants could do, and unwilling as ever to confide in the
abilities of those to whom he had delegated his authority. Provided;
as he unquestionably was at that moment, with a more energetic
representative than any who had before exercised the functions of royal
governor in the provinces, he was still disposed to harass, to doubt, and
to interfere. With the additional cares of the Portuguese Conquest upon
his hands, he felt as irresistibly impelled as ever to superintend the
minute details of provincial administration. To do this was impossible.
It was, however, not impossible, by attempting to do it, to produce much
mischief. "It gives me pain," wrote Granvelle, "to see his Majesty
working as before--choosing to understand everything and to do
everything. By this course, as I have often said before, he really
accomplishes much less." The King had, moreover, recently committed
the profound error of sending the Duchess Margaret of Parma to the
Netherlands again. He had the fatuity to believe her memory so tenderly
cherished in the provinces as to ensure a burst of loyalty at her
reappearance, while the irritation which he thus created in the breast
of her son he affected to disregard. The event was what might have been
foreseen. The Netherlanders were very moderately excited by the arrival
of their former regent, but the Prince of Parma was furious. His mother
actually arrived at Namur in the month of August, 1580, to assume the
civil administration of the provinces,--and he was himself, according to
the King's request, to continue in the command of the army. Any one who
had known human nature at all, would have recognized that Alexander
Farnese was not the man to be put into leading strings. A sovereign who
was possessed of any administrative sagacity, would have seen the
absurdity of taking the reins of government at that crisis from the hands
of a most determined and energetic man, to confide them to the keeping of
a woman. A king who was willing to reflect upon the consequences of his
own acts, must have foreseen the scandal likely to result from an open
quarrel for precedence between such a mother and son. Margaret of Parma
was instantly informed, however, by Alexander, that a divided authority
like that proposed was entirely out of the question. Both offered to
resign; but Alexander was unflinching in his determination to retain all
the power or none. The Duchess, as docile to her son after her arrival
as she had been to the King on undertaking the journey, and feeling
herself unequal to the task imposed upon her, implored Philip's
permission to withdraw, almost as soon as she had reached her
destination. Granvelle's opinion was likewise opposed to this
interference with the administration of Alexander, and the King at last
suffered himself to be overruled. By the end of the year 1581, letters
arrived confirming the Prince of Parma in his government, but requesting
the Duchess of Parma to remain, privately in the Netherlands. She
accordingly continued to reside there under an assumed name until the
autumn of 1583, when she was at last permitted to return to Italy.
During the summer of 1581, the same spirit of persecution which had
inspired the Catholics to inflict such infinite misery upon those of the
Reformed faith in the Netherlands, began to manifest itself in overt acts
against the Papists by those who had at last obtained political.
ascendency over them. Edicts were published in Antwerp, in Utrecht, and
in different cities of Holland, suspending the exercise of the Roman
worship. These statutes were certainly a long way removed in horror from
those memorable placards which sentenced the Reformers by thousands to
the axe; the cord, and the stake, but it was still melancholy to see the
persecuted becoming persecutors in their turn. They were excited to
these stringent measures by the noisy zeal of certain Dominican monks in
Brussels, whose extravagant discourses were daily inflaming the passions
of the Catholics to a dangerous degree. The authorities of the city
accordingly thought it necessary to suspend, by proclamation, the public
exercise of the ancient religion, assigning, as their principal reason
for this prohibition, the shocking jugglery by which simple-minded
persons were constantly deceived. They alluded particularly to the
practice of working miracles by means of relics, pieces of the holy
cross, bones of saints, and the perspiration of statues. They charged
that bits of lath were daily exhibited as fragments of the cross; that
the bones of dogs and monkeys were held up for adoration as those of
saints; and that oil was poured habitually into holes drilled in the
heads of statues, that the populace might believe in their miraculous
sweating. For these reasons, and to avoid the tumult and possible
bloodshed to which the disgust excited by such charlatanry might give
rise, the Roman Catholic worship was suspended until the country should
be restored to greater tranquillity. Similar causes led to similar
proclamations in other cities. The Prince of Orange lamented the
intolerant spirit thus showing itself among those who had been its
martyrs, but it was not possible at that moment to keep it absolutely
under control.
A most important change was now to take place in his condition, a most
vital measure was to be consummated by the provinces. The step, which
could never be retraced was, after long hesitation, finally taken upon
the 26th of July, 1581, upon which day the united provinces, assembled at
the Hague, solemnly declared their independence of Philip, and renounced
their allegiance for ever.