larger and stronger than any ship before known. She was two thousand tons
burthen, carried eighty-two bronze cannon, and had a crew of twelve
hundred men. The other three apostles carried each fifty guns and four
hundred men. The armament of the other war-ships varied from fifty-two to
eighteen guns each. The presence of such a formidable force might have
seemed a motive for discouragement, or at least of caution. On the
contrary, the adventurers dashed at once upon their prey; thus finding a
larger booty than they had dared to expect. There was but a brief
engagement. At the outset a Dutch ship accidentally blew up, and gave
much encouragement to the Spaniards. Their joy was but short-lived. Two
of the great galleons were soon captured, the other two, the St. Philip
and the St. Thomas, were run aground and burned. The rest of the
war-ships were driven within the harbour, but were unable to prevent a
landing of the enemy's forces. In the eagerness of the allies to seize
the city, they unluckily allowed many of the Indiamen to effect their
escape through the puente del Zuazzo, which had not been supposed a
navigable passage for ships of such burthen. Nine hundred soldiers under
Essex, and four hundred noble volunteers under Lewis Gunther of Nassau,
now sprang on shore, and drove some eleven hundred Spanish skirmishers
back within the gates of the city, or into a bastion recently raised to
fortify the point when the troops had landed. Young Nassau stormed the
bulwark sword in hand, carried it at the first assault, and planted his
colours on its battlement. It was the flag of William the Silent; for the
republican banner was composed of the family colours of the founder of
the new commonwealth. The blazonry of the proscribed and assassinated
rebel waved at last defiantly over one of the chief cities of Spain.
Essex and Nassau and all the rest then entered the city. There was little
fighting. Twenty-five English and Hollanders were killed, and about as
many Spaniards. Essex knighted about fifty gentlemen, Englishmen and
Hollanders, in the square of Cadiz for their gallantry. Among the number
were Lewis Gunther of Nassau, Admiral Warmond, and Peter Regesmortes.
Colonel Nicolas Meetkerke was killed in the brief action, and Sir John
Wingfield, who insisted in prancing about on horseback without his
armour, defying the townspeople and neglecting the urgent appeal of Sir
Francis Vere, was also slain. The Spanish soldiers, discouraged by the
defeat of the ships on which they had relied for protection of the town,
retreated with a great portion of the inhabitants into the citadel. Next
morning the citadel capitulated without striking a blow, although there,
were six thousand able-bodied, well-armed men within its walls. It was
one of the most astonishing panics ever recorded. The great fleet, making
a third of the king's navy, the city of Cadiz and its fortress, were
surrendered to this audacious little force, which had only arrived off
the harbour thirty-six hours before. The invaders had, however, committed
a great mistake. They had routed, and, as it were, captured the Spanish
galleons, but they had not taken possession of them, such had been their
eagerness to enter the city. It was now agreed that the fleet should be
ransomed for two million ducats, but the proud Duke of Medina Sidonia,
who had already witnessed the destruction of one mighty armada, preferred
that these splendid ships too should perish rather than that they should
pay tribute to the enemy. Scorning the capitulation of the commandant of
the citadel, he ordered the fleet to be set on fire. Thirty-two ships,
most of them vessels of war of the highest class, were burned, with all
their equipments. Twelve hundred cannon sunk at once to the bottom of the
Bay of Cadiz, besides arms for five or six thousand men. At least
one-third of Philip's effective navy was thus destroyed.
The victors now sacked the city very thoroughly, but the results were
disappointing. A large portion of the portable wealth of the inhabitants,
their gold and their jewelry, had been so cunningly concealed that,
although half a dozen persons were tortured till they should reveal
hidden treasures, not more than five hundred thousand ducats worth
of-plunder was obtained. Another sum of equal amount having been levied
upon the citizens; forty notable personages; among them eighteen
ecclesiastical dignitaries, were carried off as hostages for its payment.
The city was now set on fire by command of Essex in four different
quarters. Especially the cathedral and other churches, the convents and
the hospitals, were burned. It was perhaps not unnatural: that both
Englishmen and Hollanders should be disposed to wreak a barbarous
vengeance on everything representative of the Church which they abhorred,
and from which such endless misery had issued to the uttermost corners
of their own countries. But it is at any rate refreshing to record amid
these acts of pillage and destruction, in which, as must ever be the
case, the innocent and the lowly were made to suffer for the crimes of
crowned and mitred culprits, that not many special acts of cruelty were
committed upon individuals:
No man was murdered in cold blood, no woman was outraged. The beautiful
city was left a desolate and blackened ruin, and a general levy of spoil
was made for the benefit of the victors, but there was no infringement of
the theory and practice of the laws of war as understood in that day or
in later ages. It is even recorded that Essex ordered one of his
soldiers, who was found stealing a woman's gown, to be hanged on the
spot, but that, wearied by the intercession of an ecclesiastic of Cadiz,
the canon Quesada, he consented at last to pardon the marauder.
It was the earnest desire of Essex to hold Cadiz instead of destroying
it. With three thousand men, and with temporary supplies from the fleet,
the place could be maintained against all comers; Holland and England
together commanding the seas. Admiral Warmond and all the Netherlanders
seconded the scheme, and offered at once to put ashore from their vessels
food and munitions enough to serve two thousand men for two months. If
the English admiral would do as much, the place might be afterwards
supplied without limit and held till doomsday, a perpetual thorn in
Philip's side. Sir Francis Vere was likewise warmly in favour of the
project, but he stood alone. All the other Englishmen opposed it as
hazardous, extravagant, and in direct contravention of the minute
instructions of the queen. With a sigh or a curse for what he considered
the superfluous caution of his royal mistress, and the exaggerated
docility of Lord High Admiral Howard, Essex was fain to content himself
with the sack and the conflagration, and the allied fleet sailed away
from Cadiz.
On their way towards Lisbon they anchored off Faro, and landed a force,
chiefly of Netherlanders, who expeditiously burned and plundered the
place. When they reached the neighbourhood of Lisbon, they received
information that a great fleet of Indiamen, richly laden, were daily
expected from the Flemish islands, as the Azores were then denominated.
Again Essex was vehemently disposed to steer at once for that station, in
order to grasp so tempting a prize; again he was strenuously supported by
the Dutch admiral and Yere, and again Lord Howard peremptorily
interdicted the plan. It was contrary to his instructions and to his
ideas of duty, he said, to risk so valuable a portion of her Majesty's
fleet on so doubtful a venture. His ships were not fitted for a winter's
cruise, he urged. Thus, although it was the very heart of midsummer, the
fleet was ordered to sail homeward. The usual result of a divided command
was made manifest, and it proved in the sequel that, had they sailed for
the islands, they would have pounced at exactly the right moment upon an
unprotected fleet of merchantmen, with cargoes valued at seven millions
of ducats. Essex, not being willing to undertake the foray to the Azores
with the Dutch ships alone, was obliged to digest his spleen as: best he
could. Meantime the English fleet bore away for England, leaving Essex in
his own ship, together with the two captured Spanish galleons, to his
fate. That fate might, have been a disastrous one, for his prizes were
not fully manned, his own vessel was far from powerful, and there were
many rovers and cruisers upon the seas. The Dutch admiral, with all his
ships, however, remained in company, and safely convoyed him to Plymouth,
where they arrived only a day or two later than Howard and his fleet.
Warmond, who had been disposed to sail up the Thames in order to pay his
respects to the queen, was informed that his presence would not be
desirable but rather an embarrassment. He, however, received the
following letter from the hand of Elizabeth.
MONSIEUR DUYENWOORD,--The report made to me by the generals of our
fleet, just happily arrived from the coast of Spain, of the devoirs of
those who have been partakers in so, famous a victory, ascribes so much
of it to the valour, skill, and readiness exhibited by yourself and our
other friends from the Netherlands under your command, during the whole
course of the expedition, as to fill our mind with special joy and
satisfaction, and, with a desire to impart these feelings to you. No
other means presenting themselves at this moment than that of a letter
(in some sense darkening the picture of the conceptions of our soul), we
are willing to make use of it while waiting for means more effectual.
Wishing thus to disburthen ourselves we find ourselves confused, not
knowing where to begin, the greatness of each part exceeding the merit
of the other. For, the vigour and promptness with which my lords the
States-General stepped into the enterprise, made us acknowledge that the
good favour, which we have always borne the United Provinces and the
proofs thereof which we have given in the benefits conferred by us upon
them, had not been ill-bestowed. The valour, skill, and discipline
manifested by you in this enterprise show that you and your whole nation
are worthy the favour and protection of princes against those who wish to
tyrannize over you. But the honourableness and the valour shown by you,
Sir Admiral, towards our cousin the Earl of Essex on his return, when he
unfortunately was cut off from the fleet, and deep in the night was
deprived of all support, when you kept company with him and gave him
escort into the harbour of Plymouth, demonstrate on the one hand your
foresight in providing thus by your pains and patience against all
disasters, which through an accident falling upon one of the chiefs of
our armada might have darkened the great victory; and on the other hand
the fervour and fire of the affection which you bear us, increasing thus,
through a double bond, the obligations we are owing you, which is so
great in our hearts that we have felt bound to discharge a part of it by
means of this writing, which we beg you to communicate to the whole
company of our friends under your command; saying to them besides, that
they may feel assured that even as we have before given proof of our
goodwill to their fatherland, so henceforth--incited by their devoirs and
merits--we are ready to extend our bounty and affection in all ways which
may become a princess recompensing the virtues and gratitude of a nation
so worthy as yours.
"ELIZABETH R.
"14th August, 1596."
This letter was transmitted by the admiral to the States-General; who,
furnished him with a copy of it, but enrolled the original in their
archives; recording as it did, in the hand of the great English queen, so
striking a testimony to the valour and the good conduct of Netherlanders.
The results of this expedition were considerable, for the king's navy was
crippled, a great city was destroyed, and some millions of plunder had
been obtained. But the permanent possession of Cadiz, which, in such
case, Essex hoped to exchange for Calais, and the destruction of the
fleet at the Azores--possible achievements both, and unwisely
neglected--would have been far more profitable, at least to England. It
was also matter of deep regret that there was much quarrelling between
the Netherlanders and the Englishmen as to their respective share of the
spoils; the Netherlanders complaining loudly that they had been
defrauded. Moreover the merchants of Middelburg, Amsterdam, and other
commercial cities of Holland and Zeeland were, as it proved, the real
owners of a large portion of the property destroyed or pillaged at Cadiz;
so that a loss estimated as high as three hundred thousand florins fell
upon those unfortunate traders through this triumph of the allies.
The internal consequences of the fall of Calais had threatened at the
first moment to be as disastrous as the international results of that
misfortune had already proved. The hour for the definite dismemberment
and partition of the French kingdom, not by foreign conquerors but among
its own self-seeking and disloyal grandees, seemed to have struck. The
indomitable Henry, ever most buoyant when most pressed by misfortune, was
on the way to his camp at La Fere, encouraging the faint-hearted, and
providing as well as he could for the safety of the places most menaced,
when he was met at St. Quentin by a solemn deputation of the principal
nobles, military commanders, and provincial governors of France. The Duke
of Montpensier was spokesman of the assembly, and, in an harangue
carefully prepared for the occasion, made an elaborate proposition to the
king that the provinces, districts, cities, castles; and other
strong-holds throughout the kingdom should now be formally bestowed upon
the actual governors and commandants thereof in perpetuity, and as
hereditary property, on condition of rendering a certain military service
to the king and his descendants. It seemed so amazing that this temporary
disaster to the national arms should be used as a pretext for parcelling
out France, and converting a great empire into a number of insignificant
duchies and petty principalities; that this movement should be made, not
by the partisans of Spain, but by the adherents of the king; and that its
leader should be his own near relative, a prince of the blood, and a
possible successor to the crown, that Henry was struck absolutely dumb.
Misinterpreting his silence, the duke proceeded very confidently with his
well-conned harangue; and was eloquently demonstrating that, under such a
system, Henry, as principal feudal chief, would have greater military
forces at his disposal whenever he chose to summon his faithful vassals
to the field than could be the case while the mere shadow of royal power
or dignity was allowed to remain; when the king, finding at last a
tongue, rebuked his cousin; not angrily, but with a grave melancholy
which was more impressive than wrath.
He expressed his pity for the duke that designing intriguers should have
thus taken advantage of his facility of character to cause him to enact a
part so entirely unworthy a Frenchman, a gentleman, and a prince of the
blood. He had himself, at the outset of his career, been much farther
from the throne than Montpensier was at that moment; but at no period of
his life would he have consented to disgrace himself by attempting the
dismemberment of the realm. So far from entering for a moment into the
subject-matter of the duke's discourse, he gave him and all his
colleagues distinctly to understand that he would rather die a thousand
deaths than listen to suggestions which would cover his family and the
royal dignity with infamy.
Rarely has political cynicism been displayed in more revolting shape than
in this deliberate demonstration by the leading patricians and generals
of France, to whom patriotism seemed an unimaginable idea. Thus signally
was their greediness to convert a national disaster into personal profit
rebuked by the king. Henry was no respecter of the People, which he
regarded as something immeasurably below his feet. On the contrary, he
was the most sublime self-seeker of them all; but his courage, his
intelligent ambition, his breadth and strength of purpose, never
permitted him to doubt that his own greatness was inseparable from the
greatness of France. Thus he represented a distinct and wholesome
principle--the national integrity of a great homogeneous people at a
period when that integrity seemed, through domestic treason and foreign
hatred, to be hopelessly lost. Hence it is not unnatural that he should
hold his place in the national chronicle as Henry the Great.
Meantime, while the military events just recorded had been occurring in
the southern peninsula, the progress of the archduke and his lieutenants
in the north against the king and against the republic had been
gratifying to the ambition of that martial ecclesiastic. Soon after the
fall of Calais, De Rosne had seized the castles of Guynes and Hames,
while De Mexia laid siege to the important stronghold of Ardres. The
garrison, commanded by Count Belin, was sufficiently numerous and well
supplied to maintain the place until Henry, whose triumph at La Fere
could hardly be much longer delayed, should come to its relief. To the
king's infinite dissatisfaction, however, precisely as Don Alvario de
Osorio was surrendering La Fere to him, after a seven months' siege,
Ardres was capitulating to De Mexia. The reproaches upon Belin for
cowardice, imbecility, and bad faith, were bitter and general. All his
officers had vehemently protested against the surrender, and Henry at
first talked of cutting off his head. It was hardly probable,
however--had the surrender been really the result of treachery--that the
governor would have put himself, as he did at once in the king's power;
for the garrison marched out of Ardres with the commandant at their head,
banners displayed, drums beating, matches lighted and bullet in mouth,
twelve hundred fighting men strong, besides invalids. Belin was possessed
of too much influence, and had the means of rendering too many pieces of
service to the politic king, whose rancour against Spain was perhaps not
really so intense as was commonly supposed, to meet with the condign
punishment which might have been the fate of humbler knaves.
These successes having been obtained in Normandy, the cardinal with a
force of nearly fifteen thousand men now took the field in Flanders; and,
after hesitating for a time whether he should attack Breda, Bergen,
Ostend, or Gertruydenburg,--and after making occasional feints in various
directions, came, towards the end of June, before Hulst. This rather
insignificant place, with a population of but one thousand inhabitants,
was defended by a strong garrison under command of that eminent and
experienced officer Count Everard Solms. Its defences were made more
complete by a system of sluices, through which the country around could
be laid under water; and Maurice, whose capture of the town in the year
1591 had been one of his earliest military achievements, was disposed to
hold it at all hazards. He came in person to inspect the fortifications,
and appeared to be so eager on the subject, and so likely to encounter
unnecessary hazards, that the States of Holland passed a resolution
imploring him "that he would not, in his heroic enthusiasm and laudable
personal service, expose a life on which the country so much depended to
manifest dangers." The place was soon thoroughly invested, and the usual
series of minings and counter-minings, assaults, and sorties followed, in
the course of which that courageous and corpulent renegade, De Rosne, had
his head taken off by a cannon-ball, while his son, a lad of sixteen, was
fighting by his side. On the 16th August the cardinal formally demanded
the surrender of the place, and received the magnanimous reply that Hulst
would be defended to the death. This did not, however, prevent the
opening of negotiations the very same day. All the officers, save one,
united in urging Solms to capitulate; and Solms, for somewhat mysterious
reasons, and, as was stated, in much confusion, gave his consent. The
single malcontent was the well-named Matthew Held, whose family name
meant Hero, and who had been one of the chief actors in the far-famed
capture of Breda. He was soon afterwards killed in an unsuccessful attack
made by Maurice upon Venlo.
Hulst capitulated on the 18th August. The terms were honourable; but the
indignation throughout the country against Count Solms was very great.
The States of Zeeland, of whose regiment he had been commander ever,
since the death of Sir Philip Sidney, dismissed him from their service,
while a torrent of wrath flowed upon him from every part of the country.
Members of the States-General refused to salute him in the streets;
eminent person, ages turned their backs upon him, and for a time there
was no one willing to listen to a word in his defence. The usual reaction
in such cases followed; Maurice sustained the commander, who had
doubtless committed a grave error, but who had often rendered honourable
service to the republic, and the States-General gave him a command as
important as that of which he had been relieved by the Zeeland States. It
was mainly on account of the tempest thus created within the Netherlands,
that an affair of such slight importance came to occupy so large a space
in contemporary history. The defenders of Solmstold wild stories about
the losses of the besieging army. The cardinal, who was thought prodigal
of blood, and who was often quoted as saying "his soldiers' lives
belonged to God and their bodies to the king," had sacrificed, it, was
ridiculously said, according to the statement of the Spaniards
themselves, five thousand soldiers before the walls of Hulst. It was very
logically deduced therefrom that the capture of a few more towns of a
thousand inhabitants each would cost him his whole army. People told each
other, too, that the conqueror had refused a triumph which the burghers
of Brussels wished to prepare for him on his entrance into the capital,
and that he had administered the very proper rebuke that, if they had
more money than they knew what to do with, they should expend it in aid
of the wounded and of the families of the fallen, rather than in velvets
and satins and triumphal arches. The humanity of the suggestion hardly
tallied with the blood-thirstiness of which he was at the same time so
unjustly accused--although it might well be doubted whether the
commander-in-chief, even if he could witness unflinchingly the
destruction of five thousand soldiers on the battle-field, would dare
to confront a new demonstration of schoolmaster Houwaerts and his
fellow-pedants.
The fact was, however, that the list of casualties in the cardinal's camp
during the six weeks' siege amounted to six hundred, while the losses
within the city were at least as many. There was no attempt to relieve
the place; for the States, as before observed, had been too much cramped
by the strain upon their resources and by the removal of so many veterans
for the expedition against Cadiz to be able to muster any considerable
forces in the field during the whole of this year.
For a vast war in which the four leading powers of the earth were
engaged, the events, to modern eyes, of the campaign of 1596 seem
sufficiently meagre. Meantime, during all this campaigning by land and
sea in the west, there had been great but profitless bloodshed in the
east. With difficulty did the holy Roman Empire withstand the terrible,
ever-renewed assaults of the unholy realm of Ottoman--then in the full
flush of its power--but the two empires still counterbalanced each other,
and contended with each other at the gates of Vienna.
As the fighting became more languid, however, in the western part of
Christendom, the negotiations and intrigues grew only the more active. It
was most desirable for the republic to effect, if possible, a formal
alliance offensive and defensive with France and England against Spain.
The diplomacy of the Netherlands had been very efficient in bringing
about the declaration of war by Henry against Philip, by which the
current year had opened, after Henry and Philip had been doing their best
to destroy each other and each other's subjects during the half-dozen
previous years. Elizabeth, too, although she had seen her shores invaded
by Philip with the most tremendous armaments that had ever floated on the
seas, and although she had herself just been sending fire and sword into
the heart of Spain, had very recently made the observation that she and
Philip were not formally at war with each other. It seemed, therefore,
desirable to the States-General that this very practical warfare should
be, as it were, reduced to a theorem. In this case the position of the
republic to both powers and to Spain itself might perhaps be more
accurately defined.
Calvaert, the States' envoy--to use his own words--haunted Henry like his
perpetual shadow, and was ever doing his best to persuade him of the
necessity of this alliance. De Saucy, as we have seen, had just arrived
in England, when the cool proposition of the queen to rescue Calais from
Philip on condition of keeping it for herself had been brought to
Boulogne by Sidney. Notwithstanding the indignation of the king, he had
been induced directly afterwards to send an additional embassy to
Elizabeth, with the Duke of Bouillon at its head; and he had insisted
upon Calvaert's accompanying the mission. He had, as he frequently
observed, no secrets from the States-General, or from Calvaert, who had
been negotiating upon these affairs for two years past and was so well
acquainted with all their bearings. The Dutch envoy was reluctant to go,
for he was seriously ill and very poor in purse, but Henry urged the
point so vehemently, that Calvaert found himself on board ship within six
hours of the making of the proposition. The incident shows of how much
account the republican diplomatist was held by so keen a judge of mankind
as the Bearnese; but it will subsequently appear that the candour of the
king towards the States-General and their representative was by no means
without certain convenient limitations.
De Sancy had arrived just as--without his knowledge--Sidney had been
despatched across the channel with the brief mission already mentioned.
When he was presented to the queen, the next day, she excused herself for
the propositions by which Henry had been so much enraged, by assuring the
envoy that it had been her intention only to keep Calais out of the
enemy's hand, so long as the king's forces were too much occupied at a
distance to provide for its safety. As diplomatic conferences were about
to begin in which--even more than in that age, at least, was usually the
case--the object of the two conferring powers was to deceive each other,
and at the same time still more decidedly to defraud other states, Sancy
accepted the royal explanation, although Henry's special messenger,
Lomenie, had just brought him from the camp at Boulogne a minute account
of the propositions of Sidney.
The envoy had, immediately afterwards, an interview with Lord Burghley,
and at once perceived that he was no friend to his master. Cecil observed
that the queen had formerly been much bound to the king for religion's
sake. As this tie no longer existed, there was nothing now to unite them
save the proximity of the two States to each other and their ancient
alliances, a bond purely of interest which existed only so long as
princes found therein a special advantage.
De Sancy replied that the safety of the two crowns depended upon their
close alliance against a very powerful foe who was equally menacing to
them both. Cecil rejoined that he considered the Spaniards deserving of
the very highest praise for having been able to plan so important an
enterprise, and to have so well deceived the King of France by the
promptness and the secrecy of their operations as to allow him to
conceive no suspicion as to their designs.
To this not very friendly sarcasm the envoy, indignant that France should
thus be insulted in her misfortunes, exclaimed that he prayed to God that
the affairs of Englishmen might never be reduced to such a point as to
induce the world to judge by the result merely, as to the sagacity of
their counsels. He added that there were many passages through which to
enter France, and that it was difficult to be present everywhere, in
order to defend them all against the enemy.
A few days afterwards the Duke of Bouillon arrived in London. He had seen
Lord Essex at Dover as he passed, and had endeavoured without success to
dissuade him from his expedition against the Spanish coast. The
conferences opened on the 7th May, at Greenwich, between Burghley,
Cobham, the Lord Chamberlain, and one or two other commissioners on the
part of the queen, and Bouillon, Sancy, Du Yair, and Ancel, as
plenipotentiaries of Henry.
There was the usual indispensable series of feints at the outset, as if
it were impossible for statesmen to meet around a green table except as
fencers in the field or pugilists in the ring.
"We have nothing to do," said Burghley, "except to listen to such
propositions as may be made on the part of the king, and to repeat them
to her Highness the queen."
"You cannot be ignorant," replied Bouillon, "of the purpose for which we
have been sent hither by his Very Christian Majesty. You know very well
that it is to conclude a league with England. 'Tis necessary, therefore,
for the English to begin by declaring whether they are disposed to enter
into such an alliance. This point once settled, the French can make their
propositions, but it would be idle to dispute about the conditions of a
treaty, if there is after all no treaty to be made."
To this Cecil rejoined, that, if the king were reduced to the necessity
of asking succour from the queen, and of begging for her alliance, it was
necessary for them, on the other hand, to see what he was ready to do for
the queen in return, and to learn what advantage she could expect from
the league.
The duke said that the English statesmen were perfectly aware of the
French intention of proposing a league against the common enemy of both
nations, and that it would be unquestionably for the advantage of both to
unite their forces for a vigorous attack upon Spain, in which case it
would be more difficult for the Spanish to resist them than if each were
acting separately. It was no secret that the Spaniards would rather
attack England than France, because their war against England, being
coloured by a religious motive, would be much less odious, and would even
have a specious pretext. Moreover the conquest of England would give them
an excellent vantage ground to recover what they had lost in the
Netherlands. If, on the contrary, the enemy should throw himself with his
whole force upon France, the king, who would perhaps lose many places at
once, and might hardly be able to maintain himself single-handed against
domestic treason and a concentrated effort on the part of Spain, would
probably find it necessary to make a peace with that power. Nothing could
be more desirable for Spain than such a result, for she would then be
free to attack England and Holland, undisturbed by any fear of France.
This was a piece of advice, the duke said, which the king offered, in the
most friendly spirit, and as a proof of his affection, to her Majesty's
earnest consideration.
Burghley replied that all this seemed to him no reason for making a
league. "What more can the queen do," he observed, "than she is already
doing? She has invaded Spain by land and sea, she has sent troops to
Spain, France, and the Netherlands; she has lent the king fifteen hundred
thousand crowns in gold. In short, the envoys ought rather to be studying
how to repay her Majesty for her former benefits than to be soliciting
fresh assistance." He added that the king was so much stronger by the
recent gain of Marseilles as to be easily able to bear the loss of places
of far less importance, while Ireland, on the contrary, was a constant
danger to the queen. The country was already in a blaze, on account of
the recent landing effected there by the Spaniards, and it was a very
ancient proverb among the English, that to attack England it was
necessary to take the road of Ireland.
Bouillon replied that in this war there was much difference between the
position of France and that of England. The queen, notwithstanding
hostilities, obtained her annual revenue as usual, while the king was cut
off from his resources and obliged to ruin his kingdom in order to wage
war. Sancy added, that it must be obvious to the English ministers that
the peril of Holland was likewise the peril of England and of France, but
that at the same time they could plainly see that the king, if not
succoured, would be forced to a peace with Spain. All his counsellors
were urging him to this, and it was the interest of all his neighbours to
prevent such a step. Moreover, the proposed league could not but be
advantageous to the English; whether by restraining the Spaniards from
entering England, or by facilitating a combined attack upon the common
enemy. The queen might invade any portion of the Flemish coast at her
pleasure, while the king's fleet could sail with troops from his ports to
prevent any attack upon her realms.
At this Burghley turned to his colleagues and said, in English, "The
French are acting according to the proverb; they wish to sell us the
bear-skin before they have killed the bear." Sancy, who understood
English, rejoined, "We have no bear-skin to sell, but we are giving you a
very good and salutary piece of advice. It is for you to profit by it as
you may."
"Where are these ships of war, of which you were speaking?" asked
Burghley.
"They are at Rochelle, at Bordeaux, and at St. Malo," replied de Sancy.
"And these ports are not in the king's possession," said the Lord
Treasurer.
The discussion was growing warm. The Duke of Bouillon, in order to, put
an end to it, said that what England had most to fear was a descent by
Spain upon her coasts, and that the true way to prevent this was to give
occupation to Philip's army in Flanders. The soldiers in the fleet then
preparing were raw levies with which he would not venture to assail her
kingdom. The veterans in Flanders were the men on whom he relied for that
purpose. Moreover the queen, who had great influence with the
States-General, would procure from them a prohibition of all commerce
between the provinces and Spain; all the Netherlands would be lost to
Philip, his armies would disperse of their own accord; the princes of
Italy, to whom the power of Spain was a perpetual menace, would secretly
supply funds to the allied powers, and the Germans, declared enemies of
Philip, would furnish troops.
Burghley asserted confidently that this could never be obtained from the
Hollanders, who lived by commerce alone. Upon which Saucy, wearied with
all these difficulties, interrupted the Lord Treasurer by exclaiming, "If
the king is to expect neither an alliance nor any succour on your part,
he will be very much obliged to the queen if she will be good enough to
inform him of the decision taken by her, in order that he may, upon his
side, take the steps most suitable to the present position of his
affairs."
The session then terminated. Two days afterwards, in another conference,
Burghley offered three thousand men on the part of the queen, on
condition that they should be raised at the king's expense, and that they
should not leave England until they had received a month's pay in
advance.
The Duke of Bouillon said this was far from being what had been expected
of the generosity of her Majesty, that if the king had money he would
find no difficulty in raising troops in Switzerland and Germany, and that
there was a very great difference between hired princes and allies. The
English ministers having answered that this was all the queen could do,
the duke and Saucy rose in much excitement, saying that they had then no
further business than to ask for an audience of leave, and to return to
France as fast as possible.
Before they bade farewell to the queen, however, the envoys sent a memoir
to her Majesty, in which they set forth that the first proposition as to
a league had been made by Sir Henry Umton, and that now, when the king
had sent commissioners to treat concerning an alliance, already
recommended by the queen's ambassador in France, they had been received
in such a way as to indicate a desire to mock them rather than to treat
with them. They could not believe, they said, that it was her Majesty's
desire to use such language as had been addressed to them, and they
therefore implored her plainly to declare her intentions, in order that
they might waste no more time unnecessarily, especially as the high
offices with which their sovereign had honoured them did not allow them
to remain for a long time absent from France.
The effect of this memoir upon the queen was, that fresh conferences were
suggested, which took place at intervals between the 11th and the 26th of
May. They were characterized by the same mutual complaints of
overreachings and of shortcomings by which all the previous discussions
had been distinguished. On the 17th May the French envoys even insisted
on taking formal farewell of the queen, and were received by her Majesty
for that purpose at a final audience. After they had left the
presence--the preparations for their homeward journey being already
made--the queen sent Sir Robert Cecil, Henry Brooke, son of Lord Cobham,
and La Fontaine, minister of a French church in England, to say to them
how very much mortified she was that the state of her affairs did not
permit her to give the king as much assistance as he desired, and to
express her wish to speak to them once more before their departure.
The result of the audience given accordingly to the envoys, two days
later, was the communication of her decision to enter into the league
proposed, but without definitely concluding the treaty until it should be
ratified by the king.
On the 26th May articles were finally agreed upon, by which the king and
queen agreed to defend each other's dominions, to unite in attacking the
common enemy, and to invite other princes and states equally interested
with themselves in resisting the ambitious projects of Spain, to join in
the league. It was arranged that an army should be put in the field as
soon as possible, at the expense of the king and queen, and of such other
powers as should associate themselves in the proposed alliance; that this
army should invade the dominions of the Spanish monarch, that the king
and queen were never, without each other's consent, to make peace or
truce with Philip; that the queen should immediately raise four thousand
infantry to serve six months of every year in Picardy and Normandy, with
the condition that they were never to be sent to a distance of more than
fifty leagues from Boulogna; that when the troubles of Ireland should be
over the queen should be at liberty to add new troops to the four
thousand men thus promised by her to the league; that the queen was to
furnish to these four thousand men six months' pay in advance before they
should leave England, and that the king should agree to repay the amount
six months afterwards, sending meanwhile four nobles to England as
hostages. If the dominions of the queen should be attacked it was
stipulated that, at two months' notice, the king should raise four
thousand men at the expense of the queen and send them to her assistance,
and that they were to serve for six months at her charge, but were not to
be sent to a distance of more than fifty leagues from the coasts of
France.
The English were not willing that the States-General should be
comprehended among the powers to be invited to join the league, because
being under the protection of the Queen of England they were supposed to
have no will but hers. Burghley insisted accordingly that, in speaking of
those who were thus to be asked, no mention was to be made of peoples nor
of states, for fear lest the States-General might be included under those
terms. The queen was, however, brought at last to yield the point, and
consented, in order to satisfy the French envoys, that to the word
princes should be added the general expression orders or estates. The
obstacle thus interposed to the formation of the league by the hatred of
the queen and of the privileged classes of England to popular liberty,
and by the secret desire entertained of regaining that sovereignty over
the provinces which had been refused ten years before by Elizabeth, was
at length set aside. The republic, which might have been stifled at its
birth, was now a formidable fact, and could neither be annexed to the
English dominions nor deprived of its existence as a new member of the
European family.
It being no longer possible to gainsay the presence of the young
commonwealth among the nations, the next best thing--so it was
thought--was to defraud her in the treaty to which she was now invited to
accede. This, as it will presently appear, the King of France and the
Queen of England succeeded in doing very thoroughly, and they
accomplished it notwithstanding the astuteness and the diligence of the
States' envoy, who at Henry's urgent request had accompanied the French
mission to England. Calvaert had been very active in bringing about the
arrangement, to assist in which he had, as we have seen, risen from a
sick bed and made the journey to England: "The proposition for an
offensive and defensive alliance was agreed to by her Majesty's Council,
but under intolerable and impracticable conditions," said he, "and, as
such, rejected by the duke and Sancy, so that they took leave of her
Majesty. At last, after some negotiation in which, without boasting, I
may say that I did some service, it was again taken in hand, and at last,
thank God, although with much difficulty, the league has been concluded."
When the task was finished the French envoys departed to obtain their
master's ratification of the treaty. Elizabeth expressed herself warmly
in regard to her royal brother, inviting him earnestly to pay her a
visit, in which case she said she would gladly meet him half way; for a
sight of him would be her only consolation in the midst of her adversity
and annoyance. "He may see other princesses of a more lovely appearance,"
she added, "but he will never make a visit to a more faithful friend."
But the treaty thus concluded was for the public. The real agreement
between France and England was made by a few days later, and reduced the
ostensible arrangement to a sham, a mere decoy to foreign nations,
especially to the Dutch republic, to induce them to imitate England in
joining the league, and to emulate her likewise in affording that
substantial assistance to the league which in reality England was very
far from giving.
"Two contracts were made," said Secretary of State Villeroy; "the one
public, to give credit and reputation to the said league, the other
secret, which destroyed the effects and the promises of the first. By the
first his Majesty was to be succoured by four thousand infantry, which
number was limited by the second contract to two thousand, who were to
reside and to serve only in the cities of Boulogne and Montreuil,
assisted by an equal number of French, and not otherwise, and on
condition of not being removed from those towns unless his Majesty should
be personally present in Picardy with an army, in which case they might
serve in Picardy, but nowhere else."
An English garrison in a couple of French seaports, over against the
English coast, would hardly have seemed a sufficient inducement to other
princes and states to put large armies in the field to sustain the
Protestant league, had they known that this was the meagre result of the
protocolling and disputations that had been going on all the summer at
Greenwich.
Nevertheless the decoy did its work, The envoys returned to France, and
it was not until three months later that the Duke of Bouillon again made
his appearance in England, bringing the treaty duly ratified by Henry.
The league was then solemnized, on, the 26th August, by the queen with
much pomp and ceremony. Three peers of the realm waited upon the French
ambassador at his lodgings, and escorted him and his suite in seventeen
royal coaches to the Tower. Seven splendid barges then conveyed them
along the Thames to Greenwich. On the pier the ambassador was received by
the Earl of Derby at the head of a great suite of nobles and high
functionaries, and conducted to the palace of Nonesuch.
There was a religious ceremony in the royal chapel, where a special
pavilion had been constructed. Standing, within this sanctuary, the
queen; with her hand on her breast, swore faithfully to maintain the
league just concluded. She then gave her hand to the Duke of Bouillon,
who held it in both his own, while psalms were sung and the organ
resounded through the chapel. Afterwards there was a splendid banquet in
the palace, the duke sitting in solitary grandeur at the royal table,
being placed at a respectful distance from her Majesty, and the dishes
being placed on the board by the highest nobles of the realm, who, upon
their knees, served the queen with wine. No one save the ambassador sat
at Elizabeth's table, but in the same hall was spread another, at which
the Earl of Essex entertained many distinguished guests, young Count
Lewis Gunther of Nassau among the number.
In the midsummer twilight the brilliantly decorated barges were again
floating on the historic river, the gaily-coloured lanterns lighting the
sweep of the oars, and the sound of lute and viol floating merrily across
the water. As the ambassador came into the courtyard of his house, he
found a crowd of several thousand people assembled, who shouted welcome
to the representative of Henry, and invoked blessings on the head of
Queen Elizabeth and of her royal brother of France. Meanwhile all the
bells of London were ringing, artillery was thundering, and bonfires were
blazing, until the night was half spent.
Such was the holiday-making by which the league between the great
Protestant queen and the ex-chief of the Huguenots of France was
celebrated within a year after the pope had received him, a repentant
sinner, into the fold of the Church. Truly it might be said that religion
was rapidly ceasing to be the line of demarcation among the nations, as
had been the case for the two last generations of mankind.
The Duke of Bouillon soon afterwards departed for the Netherlands, where
the regular envoy to the commonwealth, Paul Chouart Seigneur de Buzanval,
had already been preparing the States-General for their entrance into the
league. Of course it was duly impressed upon those republicans that they
should think themselves highly honoured by the privilege of associating
themselves with so august an alliance. The queen wrote an earnest letter
to the States, urging them to join the league. "Especially should you do
so," she said, "on account of the reputation which you will thereby gain
for your affairs with the people who are under you, seeing you thus
sustained (besides the certainty which you have of our favour) by the
friendship of other confederated princes, and particularly by that of the
most Christian king."
On the 31st October the articles of agreement under which the republic
acceded to the new confederation were signed at the Hague. Of course it
was not the exact counterpart of the famous Catholic association. Madam
League, after struggling feebly for the past few years, a decrepit
beldame, was at last dead and buried. But there had been a time when she
was filled with exuberant and terrible life. She, at least, had known the
object of her creation, and never, so long as life was in her, had she
faltered in her dread purpose. To extirpate Protestantism, to murder
Protestants, to burn, hang, butcher, bury them alive, to dethrone every
Protestant sovereign in Europe, especially to assassinate the Queen of
England, the Prince of Orange, with all his race, and Henry of Navarre,
and to unite in the accomplishment of these simple purposes all the
powers of Christendom under the universal monarchy of Philip of
Spain--for all this, blood was shed in torrents, and the precious metals
of the "Indies" squandered as fast as the poor savages, who were thus
taking their first lessons in the doctrines of Jesus of Nazareth, could
dig it from the mines. For this America had been summoned, as it were by
almighty fiat, out of previous darkness, in order that it might furnish
money with which to massacre all the heretics of the earth. For this
great purpose was the sublime discovery of the Genoese sailor to be
turned to account. These aims were intelligible, and had in part been
attained. William of Orange had fallen, and a patent of nobility, with a
handsome fortune, had been bestowed upon his assassin. Elizabeth's life
had been frequently attempted. So had those of Henry, of Maurice, of
Olden-Barneveld. Divine providence might perhaps guide the hand of future
murderers with greater accuracy, for even if Madam League were dead, her
ghost still walked among the Jesuits and summoned them to complete the
crimes left yet unfinished.
But what was the design of the new confederacy? It was not a Protestant
league. Henry of Navarre could no longer be the chief of such an
association, although it was to Protestant powers only that he could turn
for assistance. It was to the commonwealth of the Netherlands, to the
northern potentates and to the Calvinist and Lutheran princes of Germany,
that the king and queen could alone appeal in their designs against
Philip of Spain.
The position of Henry was essentially a false one from the beginning. He
felt it to be so, and the ink was scarce dry with which he signed the new
treaty before he was secretly casting about him to, make peace with that
power with which he was apparently summoning all the nations of the earth
to do battle. Even the cautious Elizabeth was deceived by the crafty
Bearnese, while both united to hoodwink the other states and princes.
On the 31st October, accordingly, the States-General agreed to go into
the league with England and France; "in order to resist the enterprises
and ambitious designs of the King of Spain against all the princes and
potentates of Christendom." As the queen had engaged--according to the
public treaty or decoy--to furnish four thousand infantry to the league,
the States now agreed to raise and pay for another four thousand to be
maintained in the king's service at a cost of four hundred and fifty
thousand florins annually, to be paid by the month. The king promised, in
case the Netherlands should be invaded by the enemy with the greater part
of his force, that these four thousand soldiers should return to the
Netherlands. The king further bound himself to carry on a sharp offensive
war in Artois and Hainault.
The States-General would have liked a condition inserted in the treaty
that no peace should be made with Spain by England or France without the
consent of the provinces; but this was peremptorily refused.
Perhaps the republic had no special reason to be grateful for the
grudging and almost contemptuous manner in which it had thus been
virtually admitted into the community of sovereigns; but the men who
directed its affairs were far too enlightened not to see how great a step
was taken when their political position, now conceded to them, had been
secured. In good faith they intended to carry out the provisions of the
new treaty, and they immediately turned their attention to the vital
matters of making new levies and of imposing new taxes, by means of which
they might render themselves useful to their new allies.
Meantime Ancel was deputed by Henry to visit the various courts of
Germany and the north in order to obtain, if possible, new members for
the league? But Germany was difficult to rouse. The dissensions among
Protestants were ever inviting the assaults of the Papists. Its multitude
of sovereigns were passing their leisure moments in wrangling among
themselves as usual on abstruse points of theology, and devoting their
serious hours to banquetting, deep drinking, and the pleasures of the
chase. The jeremiads of old John of Nassau grew louder than ever, but his
voice was of one crying in the wilderness. The wrath to come of that
horrible Thirty Years' War, which he was not to witness seemed to inspire
all his prophetic diatribes. But there were few to heed them. Two great
dangers seemed ever impending over Christendom, and it is difficult to
decide which fate would have been the more terrible, the establishment of
the universal monarchy of Philip II., or the conquest of Germany by the
Grand Turk. But when Ancel and other emissaries sought to obtain succour
against the danger from the south-west, he was answered by the clash of
arms and the shrieks of horror which came daily from the south-east. In
vain was it urged, and urged with truth, that the Alcoran was less cruel
than the Inquisition, that the soil of Europe might be overrun by Turks
and Tartars, and the crescent planted triumphantly in every village, with
less disaster to the human race, and with better hope that the germs of
civilization and the precepts of Christianity might survive the invasion,
than if the system of Philip, of Torquemada, and of Alva, should become
the universal law. But the Turk was a frank enemy of Christianity, while
Philip murdered Christians in the name of Christ. The distinction imposed
upon the multitudes, with whom words were things. Moreover, the danger
from the young and enterprising Mahomet seemed more appalling to the
imagination than the menace, from which experience had taken something of
its terrors, of the old and decrepit Philip.
The Ottoman empire, in its exact discipline, in its terrible
concentration of purpose, in its contempt for all arts and sciences, and
all human occupation save the trade of war and the pursuit of military
dominion, offered a strong contrast to the distracted condition of the
holy Roman empire, where an intellectual and industrious people,
distracted by half a century of religious controversy and groaning under
one of the most elaborately perverse of all the political systems ever
invented by man, seemed to offer itself an easy prey to any conqueror.
The Turkish power was in the fulness of its aggressive strength, and
seemed far more formidable than it would have done had there been clearer
perceptions of what constitutes the strength and the wealth of nations.
Could the simple truth have been thoroughly, comprehended that a realm
founded upon such principles was the grossest of absurdities, the Eastern
might have seemed less terrible than the Western danger.
But a great campaign, at no considerable distance from the walls of
Vienna, had occupied the attention of Germany during the autumn. Mahomet
had taken the field in person with a hundred thousand men, and the
emperor's brother, Maximilian, in conjunction with the Prince of
Transylvania, at the head of a force of equal magnitude, had gone forth
to give him battle. Between the Theiss and the Danube, at Keveste, not
far from the city of Erlau, on the 26th October, the terrible encounter
on which the fate of Christendom seemed to hang at last took place, and
Europe held its breath in awful suspense until its fate should be
decided. When the result at last became known, a horrible blending of the
comic and the tragic, such as has rarely been presented in history,
startled the world. Seventy thousand human beings--Moslems and
Christians--were lying dead or wounded on the banks of a nameless little
stream which flows into the Theisa, and the commanders-in-chief of both
armies were running away as fast as horses could carry them. Each army
believed itself hopelessly defeated, and abandoning tents, baggage,
artillery, ammunition, the remnants of each, betook themselves to
panic-stricken flight. Generalissimo Maximilian never looked behind him
as he fled, until he had taken refuge in Kaschan, and had thence made his
way, deeply mortified and despondent, to Vienna. The Prince of
Transylvania retreated into the depths of his own principality. Mahomet,
with his principal officers, shut himself up in Buda, after which he
returned to Constantinople and abandoned himself for a time to a
voluptuous ease, inconsistent with the Ottoman projects of conquering the
world. The Turks, less prone to desperation than the Christians, had been
utterly overthrown in the early part of the action, but when the victors
were, as usual, greedily bent upon plunder before the victory had been
fairly secured, the tide of battle was turned by the famous Italian
renegade Cicala. The Turks, too, had the good sense to send two days
afterwards and recover their artillery, trains, and other property, which
ever since the battle had been left at the mercy of the first comers.
So ended the Turkish campaign of the year 1596. Ancel, accordingly, fared
ill in his negotiations with Germany. On the other hand Mendoza, Admiral
of Arragon, had been industriously but secretly canvassing the same
regions as the representative of the Spanish king. It was important for
Philip, who put more faith in the league of the three powers than Henry
himself did, to lose no time in counteracting its influence. The
condition of the holy Roman empire had for some time occupied his most
serious thoughts. It seemed plain that Rudolph would never marry.
Certainly he would never marry the Infanta, although he was very angry
that his brother should aspire to the hand which he himself rejected. In
case of his death without children, Philip thought it possible that there
might be a Protestant revolution in Germany, and that the house of
Habsburg might lose the imperial crown altogether. It was even said that
the emperor himself was of that opinion, and preferred that the empire
should "end with his own life." Philip considered that neither Matthias
nor Maximilian was fit to succeed their brother, being both of them
"lukewarm in the Catholic faith." In other words, he chose that his
destined son-in-law, the Cardinal Albert, should supersede them, and he
was anxious to have him appointed as soon as possible King of the Romans.
"His Holiness the Pope and the King of Spain," said the Admiral of
Arragon, "think it necessary to apply most stringent measures to the
emperor to compel him to appoint a successor, because, in case of his
death without one, the administration during the vacancy would fall to
the elector palatine,--a most perverse Calvinistic heretic, and as great
an enemy of the house of Austria and of our holy religion as the Turk
himself--as sufficiently appears in those diabolical laws of his
published in the palatinate a few months since. A vacancy is so dreadful,
that in the north of Germany the world would come to an end; yet the
emperor, being of rather a timid nature than otherwise, is inclined to
quiet, and shrinks from the discussions and conflicts likely to be caused
by an appointment. Therefore his Holiness and his Catholic Majesty, not
choosing that we should all live in danger of the world's falling in
ruins, have resolved to provide the remedy. They are to permit the
electors to use the faculty which they possess of suspending the emperor
and depriving him of his power; there being examples of this in other
times against emperors who governed ill."
The Admiral farther alluded to the great effort made two years before to
elect the King of Denmark emperor, reminding Philip that in Hamburg they
had erected triumphal arches, and made other preparations to receive him.
This year, he observed, the Protestants were renewing their schemes. On
the occasion of the baptism of the child of the elector palatine, the
English envoy being present, and Queen Elizabeth being god-mother, they
had agreed upon nine articles of faith much more hostile to the Catholic
creed than anything ever yet professed. In case of the death of the
emperor, this elector palatine would of course make much trouble, and the
emperor should therefore be induced, by fair means if possible, on
account of the great inconvenience of forcing him, but not without a hint
of compulsion, to acquiesce in the necessary measures. Philip was
represented as willing to assist the empire with considerable force
against the Turk--as there could be no doubt that Hungary was in great
danger--but in recompense it was necessary to elect a King of the Romans
in all respects satisfactory to him. There were three objections to the
election of Albert, whose recent victories and great abilities entitled
him in Philip's opinion to the crown. Firstly, there was a doubt whether
the kingdoms of Hungary and Bohemia were elective or hereditary, and it
was very important that the King of the Romans should succeed to those
two crowns, because the electors and other princes having fiefs within
those kingdoms would be unwilling to swear fealty to two suzerains, and
as Albert was younger than his brothers he could scarcely expect to take
by inheritance.
Secondly, Albert had no property of his own, but the Admiral suggested
that the emperor might be made to abandon to him the income of the Tyrol.
Thirdly, it was undesirable for Albert to leave the Netherlands at that
juncture. Nevertheless, it was suggested by the easy-going Admiral, with
the same tranquil insolence which marked all his proposed arrangements,
that as Rudolph would retire from the government altogether, Albert, as
King of the Romans and acting emperor, could very well take care of the
Netherlands as part of his whole realm. Albert being moreover about to
marry the Infanta, the handsome dowry which he would receive with her
from the king would enable him to sustain his dignity.
Thus did Philip who had been so industrious during the many past years in
his endeavours to expel the heretic Queen of England and the Huguenot
Henry from the realms of their ancestors, and to seat himself or his
daughter, or one or another of his nephews, in their places, now busy
himself with schemes to discrown Rudolph of Habsburg, and to place the
ubiquitous Infanta and her future husband on his throne. Time would show
the result.
Meantime, while the Protestant Ancel and other agents of the new league
against Philip were travelling about from one court of Europe to another
to gain adherents to their cause, the great founder of the confederacy
was already secretly intriguing for a peace with that monarch. The ink
was scarce dry on the treaty to which he had affixed his signature before
he was closeted with the agents of the Archduke Albert, and receiving
affectionate messages and splendid presents from that military
ecclesiastic.
In November, 1596, La Balvena, formerly a gentleman of the Count de la
Fera, came to Rouen. He had a very secret interview with Henry IV. at
three o'clock one morning, and soon afterwards at a very late hour in the
night. The king asked him why the archduke was not willing to make a
general peace, including England and Holland. Balvena replied that he had
no authority to treat on that subject; it being well known, however, that
the King of Spain would never consent to a peace with the rebels, except
on the ground of the exclusive maintenance of the Catholic religion.
He is taking the very course to destroy that religion, said Henry. The
king then avowed himself in favour of peace for the sake of the poor
afflicted people of all countries. He was not tired of arms, he said,
which were so familiar to him, but his wish was to join in a general
crusade against the Turk. This would be better for the Catholic religion
than the present occupations of all parties. He avowed that the Queen of
England was his very good friend, and said he had never yet broken his
faith with her, and never would do so. She had sent him the Garter, and
he had accepted it, as his brother Henry III. had done before him, and he
would negotiate no peace which did not include her. The not very distant
future was to show how much these stout professions of sincerity were
worth. Meantime Henry charged Balvena to keep their interviews a profound
secret, especially from every one in France. The king expressed great
anxiety lest the Huguenots should hear of it, and the agent observed that
any suspicion of peace negotiations would make great disturbance among
the heretics, as one of the conditions of the king's absolution by the
pope was supposed to be that he should make war upon his Protestant
subjects. On his return from Rouen the emissary made a visit to Monlevet,
marshal of the camp to Henry IV. and a Calvinist. There was much
conversation about peace, in the course of which Monlevet observed, "We
are much afraid of you in negotiation, for we know that you Spaniards far
surpass us in astuteness."
"Nay," said Balvena, "I will only repeat the words of the Emperor Charles
V.--'The Spaniards seem wise, and are madmen; the French seem madmen, and
are wise.'"
A few weeks later the archduke sent Balvena again to Rouen. He had
another interview with the king, at which not only Villeroy and other
Catholics were present, but Monlevet also. This proved a great obstacle
to freedom of conversation. The result was the same as before.
There were strong professions of a desire on the part of the king for a
peace but it was for a general peace; nothing further.
On the 4th December Balvena was sent for by the king before daylight,
just as he was mounting his horse for the chase.
"Tell his Highness," said Henry, "that I am all frankness, and incapable
of dissimulation, and that I believe him too much a man of honour to wish
to deceive me. Go tell him that I am most anxious for peace, and that I
deeply regret the defeat that has been sustained against the Turk. Had I
been there I would have come out dead or victorious. Let him arrange an
agreement between us, so that presto he may see me there with my brave
nobles, with infantry and with plenty of Switzers. Tell him that I am his
friend: Begone. Be diligent."
On the last day but two of the year, the archduke, having heard this
faithful report of Henry's affectionate sentiments, sent him a suit of
splendid armour, such as was then made better in Antwerp than anywhere
else, magnificently burnished of a blue colour, according to an entirely
new fashion.
With such secret courtesies between his most Catholic Majesty's
vicegerent and himself was Henry's league with the two Protestant powers
accompanied.
Exactly at the same epoch Philip was again preparing an invasion of the
queen's dominions. An armada of a hundred and twenty-eight ships, with a
force of fourteen thousand infantry and three thousand horse, had been
assembled during the autumn of this year at Lisbon, notwithstanding the
almost crushing blow that the English and Hollanders had dealt the king's
navy so recently at Cadiz. This new expedition was intended for Ireland,
where it was supposed that the Catholics would be easily roused. It was
also hoped that the King of Scots might be induced to embrace this
opportunity of wreaking vengeance on his mother's destroyer. "He was on
the watch the last time that my armada went forth against the English,"
said Philip, "and he has now no reason to do the contrary, especially if
he remembers that here is a chance to requite the cruelty which was
practised on his mother."
The fleet sailed on the 5th October under the command of the Count Santa
Gadea. Its immediate destination was the coast of Ireland, where they
were to find some favourable point for disembarking the troops. Having
accomplished this, the ships, with the exception of a few light vessels,
were to take their departure and pass the winter in Ferrol. In case the
fleet should be forced by stress of weather on the English coast, the
port of Milford Haven in Wales was to be seized, "because," said Philip,
"there are a great many Catholics there well affected to our cause, and
who have a special enmity to the English." In case the English fleet
should come forth to give battle, Philip sent directions that it was to
be conquered at once, and that after the victory Milford Haven was to be
firmly held.
This was easily said. But it was not fated that this expedition should be
more triumphant than that of the unconquerable armada which had been so
signally conquered eight years before. Scarcely had the fleet put to sea
when it was overtaken by a tremendous storm, in which forty ships
foundered with five thousand men. The shattered remnants took refuge in
Ferrol. There the ships were to refit, and in the spring the attempt was
to be renewed. Thus it was ever with the King of Spain. There was a
placid unconsciousness on his part of defeat which sycophants thought
sublime. And such insensibility might have been sublimity had the monarch
been in person on the deck of a frigate in the howling tempest, seeing
ship after ship go down before his eyes; and exerting himself with
tranquil energy and skill to encourage his followers, and to preserve
what remained afloat from destruction. Certainly such exhibitions of
human superiority to the elements are in the highest degree inspiring.
His father had shown himself on more than one occasion the master of his
fate. The King of France, too, bare-headed, in his iron corslet, leading
a forlorn hope, and, by the personal charm of his valour, changing
fugitives into heroes and defeat into victory, had afforded many examples
of sublime unconsciousness of disaster, such as must ever thrill the
souls of mankind. But it is more difficult to be calm in battle and
shipwreck than at the writing desk; nor is that the highest degree of
fortitude which enables a monarch--himself in safety--to endure without
flinching the destruction of his fellow creatures.
No sooner, however, was the remnant of the tempest-tost fleet safe in
Ferrol than the king requested the cardinal to collect an army at Calais
and forthwith to invade England. He asked his nephew whether he could not
manage to send his troops across the channel in vessels of light draught,
such as he already had at command, together with some others which might
be furnished him from Spain. In this way he was directed to gain a
foot-hold in England, and he was to state immediately whether he could
accomplish this with his own resources or should require the assistance
of the fleet at Ferrol. The king further suggested that the enemy,
encouraged by his success at Cadiz the previous summer, might be
preparing a fresh expedition against Spain, in which case the invasion of
England would be easier to accomplish.
Thus on the last day of 1596, Philip, whose fleet sent forth for the
conquest of Ireland and England had been too crippled to prosecute the
adventure, was proposing to his nephew to conquer England without any
fleet at all. He had given the same advice to Alexander Farnese so soon
as he heard of the destruction of the invincible armada.
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