London during this and a portion of the following year. Elizabeth,
naturally enough, was weary of the war, but she felt, after all, as did
the Government of France, that a peace between the United Netherlands and
Spain would have for its result the restoration of the authority of his
most Catholic Majesty over all the provinces. The statesmen of France
and England, like most of the politicians of Europe, had but slender
belief in the possibility of a popular government, and doubted therefore
the continued existence of the newly-organized republic. Therefore they
really deprecated the idea of a peace which should include the States,
notwithstanding that from time to time the queen or some of her
counsellors had so vehemently reproached the Netherlanders with their
unwillingness to negotiate. "At the first recognition that these people
should make of the mere shadow of a prince," said Buzanval, the keenly
observing and experienced French envoy at the Hague, "they lose the form
they have. All the blood of the body would flow to the head, and the
game would be who should best play the valet. . . . . The house of
Nassau would lose its credit within a month in case of peace." As such
statesmen could not imagine a republic, they ever dreaded the restoration
in the United Provinces of the subverted authority of Spain.
France and England were jealous of each other, and both were jealous of
Spain. Therefore even if the republican element, the strength and
endurance of which was so little suspected, had been as trifling a factor
in the problem, as was supposed, still it would have been difficult for
any one of these powers to absorb the United Netherlands. As for
France, she hardly coveted their possession. "We ought not to flatter
ourselves," said Buzanval, "that these maritime peoples will cast
themselves one day into our nets, nor do I know that it would be
advisable to pull in the net if they should throw themselves in."
Henry was full of political schemes and dreams at this moment--as much as
his passion for Mademoiselle d'Entraigues, who had so soon supplanted the
image of the dead Gabrielle in his heart, would permit. He was very well
disposed to obtain possession of the Spanish Netherlands, whenever he
should see his way to such an acquisition, and was even indulging in
visions of the imperial crown.
He was therefore already, and for the time at least, the most intense
of papists. He was determined to sacrifice the Huguenot chiefs, and
introduce the Council of Trent, in order, as he told Du Plessis, that all
might be Christians. If he still retained any remembrance of the ancient
friendship between himself and the heretic republic, it was not likely
to exhibit itself, notwithstanding his promises and his pecuniary
liabilities to her, in anything more solid than words. "I repeat it,"
said the Dutch envoy at Paris; "this court cares nothing for us, for all
its cabals tend to close union with Rome, whence we can expect nothing
but foul weather. The king alone has any memory of our past services."
But imperturbable and self-confident as ever, Henry troubled himself
little with fears in regard to the papal supremacy, even when his
Parliament professed great anxiety in regard to the consequences of the
Council of Trent, if not under him yet under his successors. "I will so
bridle the popes," said he, cheerfully, "that they will never pass my
restrictions. My children will be still more virtuous and valiant than I.
If I have none, then the devil take the hindmost. Nevertheless I choose
that the council shall be enacted. I desire it more ardently than I
pressed the edict for the Protestants." Such being the royal humour at
the moment, it may well be believed that Duplessis Mornay would find but
little sunshine from on high on the occasion of his famous but forgotten
conferences with Du Perron, now archbishop of Evreux, before the king and
all the court at Fontainebleau. It was natural enough that to please the
king the king's old Huguenot friend should be convicted of false
citations from the fathers; but it would seem strange, were the motives
unknown, that Henry should have been so intensely interested in this most
arid and dismal of theological controversies. Yet those who had known
and observed the king closely for thirty years, declared that he had
never manifested so much passion, neither on the eve of battles nor of
amorous assignations, as he then did for the demolition of Duplessis and
his deductions. He had promised the Nuncius that the Huguenot should be
utterly confounded, and with him the whole fraternity, "for," said the
king, "he has wickedly and impudently written against the pope, to whom I
owe as much as I do to God."
These were not times in which the Hollanders, battling as stoutly against
Spain and the pope as they had done during the years when the republic
stood shoulder to shoulder with Henry the Huguenot, could hope for aid
and comfort from their ancient ally.
It is very characteristic of that age of dissimulation and of reckless
political gambling, that at the very moment when Henry's marriage with
Marie de Medicis was already arranged, and when that princess was soon
expected in Lyons, a cabal at the king's court was busy with absurd
projects to marry their sovereign to the Infanta of Spain. It is true
that the Infanta was already the wife of the cardinal-archduke, but it
was thought possible--for reasons divulged through the indiscretions or
inventions of the father confessor--to obtain the pope's dispensation on
the ground of the nullity of the marriage. Thus there were politicians
at the French court seriously occupied in an attempt to deprive the
archduke of his wife, of his Netherland provinces, and of the crown of,
the holy Roman empire, which he still hoped to inherit. Yet the ink was
scarcely dry with which Henry had signed the treaty of amity with Madrid
and Brussels.
The Queen of England, on the other hand--although often listenting to
secret agents from Brussels and Madrid who offered peace, and although
perfectly aware that the great abject of Spain in securing peace with
England was to be able to swoop down at once upon the republic, thus
deprived of any allies was beside herself with rage, whenever she
suspected, with or without reason, that Brussels or Madrid had been
sending peace emissaries to the republic.
"Before I could get into the room," said Caron, on one such occasion,
"she called out, 'Have you not always told me that the States never
could, would, or should treat for peace with the enemy? Yet now it
is plain enough that they have proceeded only too far in negotiations.'
And she then swore a big oath that if the States were to deceive her she
meant to take such vengeance that men should talk of it for ever and
ever." It was a long time before the envoy could induce her to listen
to a single word, although the, perfect sincerity of the States in their
attitude to the queen and to Spain was unquestionable, and her ill-humour
on the subject continued long after it had been demonstrated how much she
had been deceived.
Yet it was impossible in the nature of things for the States to play her
false, even if no reliance were to be placed on their sagacity and their
honour. Even the recent naval expedition of the republic against the
distant possessions of Spain--which in its result had caused so much
disappointment to the States, and cost them so many lives, including that
of the noble admiral whom every sailor in the Netherlands adored had been
of immense advantage to England. The queen acknowledged that the Dutch
Navy had averted the storm which threatened to descend upon her kingdom
out of Spain, the Spanish ships destined for the coast of Ireland having
been dispersed and drawn to the other aide of the world by these
demonstrations of her ally. For this she vowed that she would be
eternally grateful, and she said as much in "letters full of sugar and
honey"--according to the French envoy--which she sent to the States by
Sir Francis Vere. She protested, in short, that she had been better and
more promptly served in her necessities by the Netherlands than by her
own subjects.
All this sugar and honey however did not make the mission of Envoy
Edmonds less bitter to the States. They heard that he was going about
through half the cities of the obedient Netherlands in a sort of
triumphal procession, and it was the general opinion of the politicians
and financiers of the continent that peace between Spain and England was
as good as made. Naturally therefore, notwithstanding the exuberant
expressions of gratitude on the part of Elizabeth, the republican
Government were anxious to know what all this parleying meant. They
could not believe that people would make a raree-show of the English
envoy except for sufficient reason. Caron accordingly presented himself
before the queen, with respectful inquiries on the subject. He found her
in appearance very angry, not with him, but with Edmonds, from whom she
had received no advices. "I don't know what they are doing with him,"
said her Majesty, "I hear from others that they are ringing the church
bells wherever he goes, and that they have carried him through a great
many more places than was necessary. I suppose that they think him a
monster, and they are carrying him about to exhibit him. All this is
done," she continued, "to throw dust in the eyes of the poor people, and
to put it into their heads that the Queen of England is suing for peace,
which is very wide of the mark."
She further observed that, as the agents of the Spanish Government had
been perpetually sending to her, she had been inclined once for all to
learn what they had to say. Thus she should make manifest to all the
world that she was not averse to a treaty such as might prove a secure
peace for herself and for Christendom; otherwise not.
It subsequently appeared that what they had to say was that if the queen
would give up to the Spanish Government the cautionary towns which she
held as a pledge for her advances to the republic, forbid all traffic and
intercourse between her subjects and the Netherlanders, and thenceforth
never allow an Englishman to serve in or with the armies of the States,
a peace might be made.
Surely it needed no great magnanimity on the queen's part to spurn such
insulting proposals, the offer of which showed her capable, in the
opinion of Verreycken, the man who made them, of sinking into the very
depths of dishonour. And she did spurn them. Surely, for the ally, the
protrectress, the grateful friend of the republic, to give its chief
seaports to its arch-enemy, to shut the narrow seas against its ships,
so that they never more could sail westward, and to abandon its whole
population to their fate, would be a deed of treachery such as history,
full of human baseness as it is, has rarely been obliged to record.
Before these propositions had been made by Verreycken Elizabeth protested
that, should he offer them, she would send him home with such an answer
that people should talk of it for some time to come. "Before I consent
to a single one of those points," said the queen, "I wish myself taken
from this world. Until now I have been a princess of my word, who would
rather die than so falsely deceive such good people as the States." And
she made those protestations with such expression and attitude that the
Dutch envoy believed her incapable at that moment of dissimulation.
Nevertheless her indignation did not carry her so far as to induce her to
break off the negotiations. The answer of which mankind was to talk in
time to come was simply that she would not send her commissioners to
treat for peace unless the Spanish Government should recede from the
three points thus offered by Verreycken. This certainly was not a very
blasting reply, and the Spanish agents were so far from losing heart in
consequence that the informal conferences continued for a long time, much
to the discomfort of the Netherlanders.
For more than an hour and a half on one occasion of an uncommonly hot
afternoon in April did Noel de Caron argue with her Majesty against these
ill-boding negotiations, and ever and anon, oppressed by the heat of the
weather and the argument, did the queen wander from one room of the
palace to the other in search of cool air, still bidding the envoy follow
her footsteps. "We are travelling about like pilgrims," said Elizabeth,
"but what is life but a pilgrimage?"
Yet, notwithstanding this long promenade and these moral reflections,
Caron could really not make out at the end of the interview whether or no
she intended to send her commissioners. At last he asked her the
question bluntly.
"Hallo! Hallo!" she replied. "I have only spoken to my servant once,
and I must obtain more information and think over the matter before I
decide. Be assured however that I shall always keep you informed of the
progress of the negotiations, and do you inform the States that they may
build upon me as upon a rock."
After the envoy had taken his leave, the queen said to him in Latin,
"Modicae fidei quare dubitasti?" Caron had however so nearly got out
of the door that he did not hear this admonition.
This the queen perceived, and calling him by name repeated, "O Caron!
modicae fidei quare dubitasti?" adding the injunction that he should
remember this dictum, for he well knew what she meant by it.
Thus terminated the interview, while the negotiations with Spain, not for
lack of good-will on her part, and despite the positive assertions to the
contrary of Buzanval and other foreign agents, were destined to come to
nothing.
At a little later period, at the time of certain informal and secret
conferences at Gertruydenberg, the queen threatened the envoy with her
severest displeasure, should the States dare to treat with Spain without
her permission. "Her Majesty called out to me," said Caron, "as soon as
I entered the room, that I had always assured her that the States neither
would nor could make peace with the enemy. Yet it was now looking very
differently, she continued, swearing with a mighty oath that if the
States should cheat her in that way she meant to revenge herself in such
a fashion that men would talk of it through all eternity."
The French Government was in a similar state of alarm in consequence of
the Gertruydenberg conferences.
The envoy of the archdukes, Marquis d'Havre, reported on the other
hand that all attempts to negotiate had proved fruitless, that Olden-
Barneveld, who spoke for all his colleagues, was swollen with pride, and
made it but too manifest that the States had no intention to submit to
any foreign jurisdiction, but were resolved to maintain themselves in the
form of a republic.
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