perhaps a serious damage upon his country. He believed a single chief
requisite for the united states; he might have been, but always refused
to become that chief; and yet he has been held up for centuries by many
writers as a conspirator and a self-seeking intriguer. "It seems to me,"
said he, with equal pathos and truth, upon one occasion, "that I was born
in this bad planet that all which I do might be misinterpreted." The
people worshipped him, and there was many an occasion when his election
would have been carried with enthusiasm. "These provinces," said John of
Nassau, "are coming very unwillingly into the arrangement with the Duke
of Alencon, The majority feel much more inclined to elect the Prince, who
is daily, and without intermission, implored to give his consent. His
Grace, however, will in no wise agree to this; not because he fears the
consequences, such as loss of property or increased danger, for therein
he is plunged as deeply as he ever could be;--on the contrary, if he
considered only the interests of his race and the grandeur of his house,
he could expect nothing but increase of honor, gold, and gear, with all
other prosperity. He refuses only on this account that it may not be
thought that, instead of religious freedom for the country, he has been
seeking a kingdom for himself and his own private advancement. Moreover,
he believes that the connexion with France will be of more benefit to the
country and to Christianity than if a peace should be made with Spain, or
than if he should himself accept the sovereignty, as he is desired to
do."
The unfortunate negotiations with Anjou, to which no man was more opposed
than Count John, proceeded therefore. In the meantime, the sovereignty
over the united provinces was provisionally held by the national council,
and, at the urgent solicitation of the states-general, by the Prince.
The Archduke Matthias, whose functions were most unceremoniously brought
to an end by the transactions which we have been recording, took his
leave of the states, and departed in the month of October. Brought to
the country a beardless boy, by the intrigues of a faction who wished to
use him as a tool against William of Orange, he had quietly submitted, on
the contrary, to serve as the instrument of that great statesman. His
personality during his residence was null, and he had to expiate, by many
a petty mortification, by many a bitter tear, the boyish ambition which
brought him to the Netherlands. He had certainly had ample leisure to
repent the haste with which he had got out of his warm bed in Vienna to
take his bootless journey to Brussels. Nevertheless, in a country where
so much baseness, cruelty, and treachery was habitually practised by men
of high position, as was the case in the Netherlands; it is something in
favor of Matthias that he had not been base, or cruel, or treacherous.
The states voted him, on his departure, a pension of fifty thousand
guldens annually, which was probably not paid with exemplary regularity.
CHAPTER V.
Policy of electing Anjou as sovereign--Commode et incommode--Views
of Orange--Opinions at the French Court,--Anjou relieves Cambray--
Parma besieges Tourney--Brave defence by the Princess of Espinoy--
Honorable capitulation--Anjou's courtship in England--The Duke's
arrival in the Netherlands--Portrait of Anjou--Festivities in
Flushing--Inauguration at Antwerp--The conditions or articles
subscribed to by the Duke--Attempt upon the life of Orange--The
assassin's papers--Confession of Venero--Gaspar Anastro--His escape
--Execution of Venero and Zimmermann--Precarious condition of the
Prince--His recovery--Death of the Princess--Premature letters of
Parma--Further negotiations with Orange as to the sovereignty of
Holland and Zealand--Character of the revised Constitution--
Comparison of the positions of the Prince before and after his
acceptance of the countship.
Thus it was arranged that, for the--present, at least, the Prince should
exercise sovereignty over Holland and Zealand; although he had himself
used his utmost exertions to induce those provinces to join the rest of
the United Netherlands in the proposed election of Anjou. This, however,
they sternly refused to do. There was also a great disinclination felt
by many in the other states to this hazardous offer of their allegiance,
and it was the personal influence of Orange that eventually carried the
measure through. Looking at the position of affairs and at the character
of Anjou, as they appear to us now, it seems difficult to account for the
Prince's policy. It is so natural to judge only by the result, that we
are ready to censure statesmen for consequences which beforehand might
seem utterly incredible, and for reading falsely human characters whose
entire development only a late posterity has had full opportunity to
appreciate. Still, one would think that Anjou had been sufficiently
known to inspire distrust.
There was but little, too, in the aspect of the French court to encourage
hopes of valuable assistance from that quarter. It was urged, not
without reason, that the French were as likely to become as dangerous as
the Spaniards; that they would prove nearer and more troublesome masters;
that France intended the incorporation of the Netherlands into her own
kingdom; that the provinces would therefore be dispersed for ever from
the German Empire; and that it was as well to hold to the tyrant under
whom they had been born, as to give themselves voluntarily to another of
their own making. In short, it was maintained, in homely language, that
"France and Spain were both under one coverlid." It might have been
added that only extreme misery could make the provinces take either
bedfellow. Moreover, it was asserted, with reason, that Anjou would be
a very expensive master, for his luxurious and extravagant habits were
notorious--that he was a man in whom no confidence could be placed, and
one who would grasp at arbitrary power by any means which might present
themselves. Above all, it was urged that he was not of the true
religion, that he hated the professors of that faith in his heart, and
that it was extremely unwise for men whose dearest interests were their
religious ones, to elect a sovereign of opposite creed to their own. To
these plausible views the Prince of Orange and those who acted with him,
had, however; sufficient answers. The Netherlands had waited long enough
for assistance from other quarters. Germany would not lift a finger in
the cause; on the contrary, the whole of Germany, whether Protestant or
Catholic, was either openly or covertly hostile. It was madness to wait
till assistance came to them from unseen sources. It was time for them
to assist themselves, and to take the best they could get; for when men
were starving they could not afford to be dainty. They might be bound,
hand and foot, they might be overwhelmed a thousand times before they
would receive succor from Germany, or from any land but France. Under
the circumstances in which they found themselves, hope delayed was but a
cold and meagre consolation.
"To speak plainly," said Orange, "asking us to wait is very much as if
you should keep a man three days without any food in the expectation of a
magnificent banquet, should persuade him to refuse bread, and at the end
of three days should tell him that the banquet was not ready, but that a
still better one was in preparation. Would it not be better, then, that
the poor man, to avoid starvation, should wait no longer, but accept
bread wherever he might find it? Such is our case at present."
It was in this vein that he ever wrote and spoke: The Netherlands were to
rely upon their own exertions, and to procure the best alliance, together
with the most efficient protection possible. They were not strong enough
to cope singlehanded with their powerful tyrant, but they were strong
enough if they used the instruments which Heaven offered. It was not
trusting but tempting Providence to wait supinely, instead of grasping
boldly at the means of rescue within reach. It became the character of
brave men to act, not to expect. "Otherwise," said the Prince, "we may
climb to the top of trees, like the Anabaptists of Munster, and expect
God's assistance to drop from the clouds." It is only by listening to
these arguments so often repeated, that we can comprehend the policy of
Orange at thin period. "God has said that he would furnish the ravens
with food, and the lions with their prey," said he; "but the birds and
the lions do not, therefore, sit in their nests and their lairs waiting
for their food to descend from heaven, but they seek it where it is to be
found." So also, at a later day, when events seemed to have justified
the distrust so, generally felt in Anjou, the Prince; nevertheless, held
similar language. "I do not," said he, calumniate those who tell us to
put our trust in God. That is my opinion also. But it is trusting God
to use the means which he places in our hands, and to ask that his
blessings may come upon them.
There was a feeling entertained by the more sanguine that the French King
would heartily assist the Netherlands, after his brother should be fairly
installed. He had expressly written to that effect, assuring Anjou that
he would help him with all his strength, and would enter into close
alliance with those Netherlands which should accept him as prince and
sovereign. In another and more private letter to the Duke, the King
promised to assist his brother, "even to his last shirt." There is no
doubt that it was the policy of the statesmen of France to assist the
Netherlands, while the "mignons" of the worthless King were of a contrary
opinion. Many of them were secret partizans of Spain; and found it more
agreeable to receive the secret pay of Philip than to assist his revolted
provinces. They found it easy to excite the jealousy of the monarch
against his brother--a passion which proved more effective than the more
lofty ambition of annexing the Low Countries, according to the secret
promptings of many French politicians. As for the Queen Mother, she was
fierce in her determination to see fulfilled in this way the famous
prediction of Nostradamus. Three of her sons had successively worn the
crown of France. That she might be "the mother of four kings," without
laying a third child in the tomb, she was greedy for this proffered
sovereignty to her youngest and favorite son. This well-known desire of
Catherine de Medici was duly insisted upon by the advocates of the
election; for her influence, it was urged, would bring the whole power of
France to support the Netherlands.
At any rate, France could not be worse--could hardly be so bad--as their
present tyranny. "Better the government of the Gaul, though suspect and
dangerous," said Everard Reyd, "than the truculent dominion of the
Spaniard. Even thus will the partridge fly to the hand of man, to escape
the talons of the hawk." As for the individual character of Anjou,
proper means would be taken, urged the advocates of his sovereignty, to
keep him in check, for it was intended so closely to limit the power
conferred upon him, that it would be only supreme in name. The
Netherlands were to be, in reality, a republic, of which Anjou was to be
a kind of Italian or Frisian podesta. "The Duke is not to act according
to his pleasure," said one of the negotiators, in a private letter to
Count John; "we shall take care to provide a good muzzle for him." How
conscientiously the "muzzle" was prepared, will appear from the articles
by which the states soon afterwards accepted the new sovereign. How
basely he contrived to slip the muzzle--in what cruel and cowardly
fashion he bathed his fangs in the blood of the flock committed to him,
will also but too soon appear.
As for the religious objection to Anjou, on which more stress was laid
than upon any other, the answer was equally ready. Orange professed
himself "not theologian enough" to go into the subtleties brought
forward. As it was intended to establish most firmly a religious peace,
with entire tolerance for all creeds, he did not think it absolutely
essential to require a prince of the Reformed faith. It was bigotry to
dictate to the sovereign, when full liberty in religious matters was
claimed for the subject. Orange was known to be a zealous professor of
the Reformed worship himself; but he did not therefore reject political
assistance, even though offered by a not very enthusiastic member of the
ancient Church.
"If the priest and the Levite pass us by when we are fallen among
thieves," said he, with much aptness and some bitterness, "shall we reject
the aid proffered by the Samaritan, because he is of a different faith
from the worthy fathers who have left us to perish?" In short, it was
observed with perfect truth that Philip had been removed, not because he
was a Catholic, but because he was a tyrant; not because his faith was
different from that of his subjects, but because he was resolved to
exterminate all men whose religion differed from his own. It was not,
therefore, inconsistent to choose another Catholic for a sovereign, if
proper guarantees could be obtained that he would protect and not oppress
the Reformed churches. "If the Duke have the same designs as the King,"
said Saint Aldegonde, "it would be a great piece of folly to change one
tyrant and persecutor for another. If, on the contrary, instead of
oppressing our liberties, he will maintain them, and in place of
extirpating the disciples of the true religion, he will protect them,
then are all the reasons of our opponents without vigor."
By midsummer the Duke of Anjou made his appearance in the western part of
the Netherlands. The Prince of Parma had recently come before Cambray
with the intention of reducing that important city. On the arrival of
Anjou, however, at the head of five thousand cavalry--nearly all of them
gentlemen of high degree, serving as volunteers--and of twelve thousand
infantry, Alexander raised the siege precipitately, and retired towards
Tournay. Anjou victualled the city, strengthened the garrison, and then,
as his cavalry had only enlisted for a summer's amusement, and could no
longer be held together, he disbanded his forces. The bulk of the
infantry took service for the states under the Prince of Espinoy,
governor of Tournay. The Duke himself, finding that, notwithstanding the
treaty of Plessis les Tours and the present showy demonstration upon his
part, the states were not yet prepared to render him formal allegiance,
and being, moreover, in the heyday of what was universally considered his
prosperous courtship of Queen Elizabeth, soon afterwards took his
departure for England.
Parma; being thus relieved of his interference, soon afterwards laid
siege to the important city of Tournay. The Prince of Espinoy was absent
with the army in the north, but the Princess commanded in his absence.
She fulfilled her duty in a manner worthy of the house from which she
sprang, for the blood of Count Horn was in her veins. The daughter of
Mary, de Montmorency, the admiral's sister, answered the summons of Parma
to surrender at discretion with defiance. The garrison was encouraged by
her steadfastness. The Princess appeared daily among her troops,
superintending the defences, and personally directing the officers.
During one of the assaults, she is said, but perhaps erroneously; to have
been wounded in the arm, notwithstanding which she refused to retire.
The siege lasted two months. Meantime, it became impossible for Orange
and the estates, notwithstanding their efforts, to raise a sufficient
force to drive Parma from his entrenchments. The city was becoming
gradually and surely undermined from without, while at the same time the
insidious art of a Dominican friar, Father Gery by name, had been as
surely sapping the fidelity of the garrison from within. An open revolt
of the Catholic population being on the point of taking place, it became
impossible any longer to hold the city. Those of the Reformed faith
insisted that the place should be surrendered; and the Princess, being
thus deserted by all parties, made an honorable capitulation with Parma.
She herself, with all her garrison, was allowed to retire with personal
property, and with all the honors of war, while the sack of the city was
commuted for one hundred thousand crowns, levied upon the inhabitants:
The Princess, on leaving the gates, was received with such a shout of
applause from the royal army that she seemed less like a defeated
commander than a conqueror. Upon the 30th November, Parma accordingly
entered the place which he had been besieging since the 1st of October.
By the end of the autumn, the Prince of Orange, more than ever
dissatisfied with the anarchical condition of affairs, and with the
obstinate jealousy and parsimony of the different provinces, again
summoned the country in the most earnest language to provide for the
general defence, and to take measures for the inauguration of Anjou. He
painted in sombre colors the prospect which lay before them, if nothing
was done to arrest the progress of the internal disorders and of the
external foe, whose forces were steadily augmenting: Had the provinces
followed his advice, instead of quarreling among themselves, they would
have had a powerful army on foot to second the efforts of Anjou, and
subsequently to save Tournay. They had remained supine and stolid, even
while the cannonading against these beautiful cities was in their very
ears. No man seemed to think himself interested in public affair, save
when his own province or village was directly attacked. The general
interests of the commonwealth were forgotten, in local jealousy. Had it
been otherwise, the enemy would have long since been driven over the
Meuse. "When money," continued the Prince, "is asked for to carry on the
war, men answer as if they were talking with the dead Emperor. To say,
however, that they will pay no more, is as much as to declare that they
will give up their land and their religion both. I say this, not because
I have any desire to put my hands into the common purse. You well know
that I have never touched the public money, but it is important that you
should feel that there is no war in the country except the one which
concerns you all."
The states, thus shamed and stimulated, set themselves in earnest to obey
the mandates of the Prince, and sent a special mission to England, to
arrange with the Duke of Anjou for his formal installation as sovereign.
Saint Aldegonde and other commissioners were already there. It was the
memorable epoch in the Anjou wooing, when the rings were exchanged
between Elizabeth and the Duke, and when the world thought that the
nuptials were on the point of being celebrated. Saint Aldegonde wrote to
the Prince of Orange on the 22nd of November, that the marriage had been
finally settled upon that day. Throughout the Netherlands, the
auspicious tidings were greeted with bonfires, illuminations, and
cannonading, and the measures for hailing the Prince, thus highly favored
by so great a Queen, as sovereign master of the provinces, were pushed
forward with great energy.
Nevertheless, the marriage ended in smoke. There were plenty of
tournays, pageants, and banquets; a profusion of nuptial festivities,
in short, where nothing was omitted but the nuptials. By the end of
January, 1582, the Duke was no nearer the goal than upon his arrival
three months before. Acceding, therefore, to the wishes of the
Netherland envoys, he prepared for a visit to their country, where the
ceremony of his joyful entrance as Duke of Brabant and sovereign of the
other provinces was to take place. No open rupture with Elizabeth
occurred. On the contrary, the Queen accompanied the Duke, with a
numerous and stately retinue, as far as Canterbury, and sent a most
brilliant train of her greatest nobles and gentlemen to escort him to
the Netherlands, communicating at the same time, by special letter, her
wishes to the estates-general, that he should be treated with as much
honor "as if he were her second self."
On the 10th of February, fifteen large vessels cast anchor at Flushing.
The Duke of Anjou, attended by the Earl of Leicester, the Lords Hunsdon,
Willoughby, Sheffield, Howard, Sir Philip Sidney, and many other
personages of high rank and reputation, landed from this fleet. He was
greeted on his arrival by the Prince of Orange, who, with the Prince of
Espinoy and a large deputation of the states-general, had been for some
days waiting to welcome him. The man whom the Netherlands had chosen for
their new master stood on the shores of Zealand. Francis Hercules, Son
of France, Duke of Alencon and Anjou, was at that time just twenty-eight
years of age; yet not even his flatterers, or his "minions," of whom he
had as regular a train as his royal brother, could claim for him the
external graces of youth or of princely dignity. He was below the middle
height, puny and ill-shaped. His hair and eyes were brown, his face was
seamed with the small-pox, his skin covered with blotches, his nose so
swollen and distorted that it seemed to be double. This prominent
feature did not escape the sarcasms of his countrymen, who, among other
gibes, were wont to observe that the man who always wore two faces, might
be expected to have two noses also. It was thought that his revolting
appearance was the principal reason for the rupture of the English
marriage, and it was in vain that his supporters maintained that if he
could forgive her age, she might, in return, excuse his ugliness. It
seemed that there was a point of hideousness beyond which even royal
princes could not descend with impunity, and the only wonder seemed that
Elizabeth, with the handsome Robert Dudley ever at her feet, could even
tolerate the addresses of Francis Valois.
His intellect was by no means contemptible. He was not without a certain
quickness of apprehension and vivacity of expression which passed
current, among his admirers for wit and wisdom. Even the experienced.
Saint Aldegonde was deceived in his character, and described him after
an hour and half's interview, as a Prince overflowing with bounty,
intelligence, and sincerity. That such men as Saint Aldegonde and the
Prince of Orange should be at fault in their judgment, is evidence not
so much of their want of discernment, as of the difference between the
general reputation of the Duke at that period, and that which has been
eventually established for him in history. Moreover, subsequent events
were to exhibit the utter baseness of his character more signally than it
had been displayed during his previous career, however vacillating. No
more ignoble yet more dangerous creature had yet been loosed upon the
devoted soil of the Netherlands. Not one of the personages who had
hitherto figured in the long drama of the revolt had enacted so sorry a
part. Ambitious but trivial, enterprising but cowardly, an intriguer and
a dupe, without religious convictions or political principles, save that
he was willing to accept any creed or any system which might advance his
own schemes, he was the most unfit protector for a people who, whether
wrong or right; were at least in earnest, and who were accustomed to
regard truth as one of the virtues. He was certainly not deficient in
self-esteem. With a figure which was insignificant, and a countenance
which was repulsive, he had hoped to efface the impression made upon
Elizabeth's imagination by the handsomest man in Europe. With a
commonplace capacity, and with a narrow political education, he intended
to circumvent the most profound statesman of his age. And there, upon
the pier at Flushing, he stood between them both; between the magnificent
Leicester, whom he had thought to outshine, and the silent Prince of
Orange, whom he was determined to outwit. Posterity has long been aware
how far he succeeded in the one and the other attempt.
The Duke's arrival was greeted with the roar of artillery, the ringing of
bells, and the acclamations of a large concourse of the inhabitants;
suitable speeches were made by the magistrates of the town, the deputies
of Zealand, and other functionaries, and a stately banquet was provided,
so remarkable "for its sugar-work and other delicacies, as to entirely
astonish the French and English lords who partook thereof." The Duke
visited Middelburg, where he was received with great state, and to the
authorities of which he expressed his gratification at finding two such
stately cities situate so close to each other on one little island.