CHANGES DEMANDED BY THE LORDS.
Policy of Philip.--Ascendancy of the Nobles.--The Regent's
Embarrassments.--Egmont sent to Spain.
1564, 1565.
We have now arrived at an epoch in the history of the revolution, when,
the spirit of the nation having been fully roused, the king had been
compelled to withdraw his unpopular minister, and to intrust the reins
of government to the hands of the nobles. Before proceeding further, it
will be well to take a brief survey of the ground, that we may the
better comprehend the relations in which the parties stood to each other
at the commencement of the contest.
[Sidenote: ASCENDANCY OF THE NOBLES.]
In a letter to his sister, the regent, written some two years after this
period, Philip says: "I have never had any other object in view than the
good of my subjects. In all that I have done, I have but trod in the
footsteps of my father, under whom the people of the Netherlands must
admit they lived contented and happy. As to the Inquisition, whatever
people may say of it, I have never attempted anything new. With regard
to the edicts, I have been always resolved to live and die in the
Catholic faith. I could not be content to have my subjects do otherwise.
Yet I see not how this can be compassed without punishing the
transgressors. God knows how willingly I would avoid shedding a drop of
Christian blood,--above all, that of my people in the Netherlands; and
I should esteem it one of the happiest circumstances of my reign to be
spared this necessity."[605]
Whatever we may think of the sensibility of Philip, or of his tenderness
for his Flemish subjects in particular, we cannot deny that the policy
he had hitherto pursued was substantially that of his father. Yet his
father lived beloved, and died lamented, by the Flemings; while Philip's
course, from the very first, had encountered only odium and opposition.
A little reflection will show us the reasons of these different results.
Both Charles and Philip came forward as the great champions of
Catholicism. But the emperor's zeal was so far tempered by reason, that
it could accommodate itself to circumstances. He showed this on more
than one occasion, both in Germany and in Flanders. Philip, on the other
hand, admitted of no compromise. He was the inexorable foe of heresy.
Persecution was his only remedy, and the Inquisition the weapon on which
he relied. His first act on setting foot on his native shore was to
assist at an _auto da fé_. This proclaimed his purpose to the world, and
associated his name indelibly with that of the terrible tribunal.
The free people of the Netherlands felt the same dread of the
Inquisition that a free and enlightened people of our own day might be
supposed to feel. They looked with gloomy apprehension to the
unspeakable misery it was to bring to their firesides, and the
desolation and ruin to their country. Everything that could in any way
be connected with it took the dismal coloring of their fears. The edicts
of Charles the Fifth, written in blood, became yet more formidable, as
declaring the penalties to be inflicted by this tribunal. Even the
erection of the bishoprics, so necessary a measure, was regarded with
distrust on account of the inquisitorial powers which of old were vested
in the bishops, thus seeming to give additional strength to the arm of
persecution. The popular feeling was nourished by every new convert to
the Protestant faith, as well as by those who, from views of their own,
were willing to fan the flame of rebellion.
Another reason why Philip's policy met with greater opposition than that
of his predecessor was the change in the condition of the people
themselves. Under the general relaxation of the law, or rather of its
execution, in the latter days of Charles the Fifth, the number of the
Reformers had greatly multiplied. Calvinism predominated in Luxemburg,
Artois, Flanders, and the states lying nearest to France. Holland,
Zealand, and the North, were the chosen abode of the Anabaptists. The
Lutherans swarmed in the districts bordering on Germany; while Antwerp,
the commercial capital of Brabant, and the great mart of all nations,
was filled with sectaries of every description. Even the Jew, the butt
of persecution in the Middle Ages, is said to have lived there
unmolested. For such a state of things, it is clear that very different
legislation was demanded than for that which existed under Charles the
Fifth. It was one thing to eradicate a few noxious weeds, and quite
another to crush the sturdy growth of heresy, which in every direction
now covered the land.
A further reason for the aversion to Philip, and one that cannot be too
often repeated, was that he was a foreigner. Charles was a native
Fleming; and much may be forgiven in a countryman. But Philip was a
Spaniard,--one of a nation held in greatest aversion by the men of the
Netherlands. It should clearly have been his policy, therefore, to cover
up this defect in the eyes of the inhabitants by consulting their
national prejudices, and by a show, at least, of confidence in their
leaders. Far from this, Philip began with placing a Spanish army on
their borders in time of peace. The administration he committed to the
hands of a foreigner. And while he thus outraged the national feeling at
home, it was remarked that into the royal council at Madrid, where the
affairs of the Low Countries, as of the other provinces, were settled in
the last resort, not a Fleming was admitted.[606] The public murmured.
The nobles remonstrated and resisted. Philip was obliged to retrace his
steps. He made first one concession, then another. He recalled his
troops, removed his minister. The nobles triumphed, and the
administration of the country passed into their hands. People thought
the troubles were at an end. They were but begun. Nothing had been done
towards the solution of the great problem of the rights of conscience.
On this the king and the country were at issue as much as ever. All that
had been done had only cleared the way to the free discussion of this
question, and to the bloody contest that was to follow.
On the departure of Granvelle, the discontented lords, as we have seen,
again took their seats in the council of state. They gave the most
earnest assurances of loyalty to the king, and seemed as if desirous to
make amends for the past by an extraordinary devotion to public
business. Margaret received these advances in the spirit in which they
were made; and the confidence which she had formerly bestowed on
Granvelle, she now transferred in full measure to his successful
rivals.[607]
It is amusing to read her letters at this period, and to compare them
with those which she wrote to Philip the year preceding. In the new
coloring given to the portraits it is hard to recognize a single
individual. She cannot speak too highly of the services of the
lords,--of the prince of Orange, and Egmont above all,--of their
devotion to the public weal and the interests of the sovereign. She begs
her brother again and again to testify his own satisfaction by the most
gracious letters to those nobles that he can write.[608] The suggestion
seems to have met with little favor from Philip. No language, however,
is quite strong enough to express Margaret's disgust with the character
and conduct of her former minister, Granvelle. It is he that has so long
stood betwixt the monarch and the love of the people. She cannot feel
easy that he should still remain so near the Netherlands. He should be
sent to Rome.[609] She distrusts his influence, even now, over the
cabinet at Madrid. He is perpetually talking, she understands, of the
probability of his speedy return to Brussels. The rumor of this causes
great uneasiness in the country. Should he be permitted to return, it
would undoubtedly be the signal for an insurrection.[610]--It is clear
the duchess had sorely suffered from the tyranny of Granvelle.[611]
[Sidenote: ASCENDANCY OF THE NOBLES.]
But notwithstanding the perfect harmony which subsisted between Margaret
and the principal lords, it was soon seen that the wheels of government
were not destined to run on too smoothly. Although the cardinal was
gone, there still remained a faction of _Cardinalists_, who represented
his opinions, and who, if few in number, made themselves formidable by
the strength of their opposition. At the head of these were the viscount
de Barlaimont and the President Viglius.
The former, head of the council of finance, was a Flemish noble of the
first class,--yet more remarkable for his character than for his rank.
He was a man of unimpeachable integrity, stanch in his loyalty both to
the Church and to the crown, with a resolute spirit not to be shaken,
for it rested on principle.
His coadjutor, Viglius, was an eminent jurist, an able writer, a
sagacious statesman. He had been much employed by the emperor in public
affairs, which he managed with a degree of caution that amounted almost
to timidity. He was the personal friend of Granvelle, had adopted his
views, and carried on with him a constant correspondence, which is among
our best sources of information. He was frugal and moderate in his
habits, not provoking criticism, like that minister, by his ostentation
and irregularities of life. But he was nearly as formidable, from the
official powers with which he was clothed, and the dogged tenacity with
which he clung to his purposes. He filled the high office of president
both of the privy council and of the council of state, and was also
keeper of the great seal. It was thus obviously in his power to oppose a
great check to the proceedings of the opposite party. That he did thus
often thwart them is attested by the reiterated complaints of the
duchess. "The president," she tells her brother, "makes me endure the
pains of hell by the manner in which he traverses my measures."[612] His
real object, like that of Granvelle and of their followers, she says on
another occasion, is to throw the country into disorder. They would find
their account in fishing in the troubled waters. They dread a state of
tranquillity, which would afford opportunity for exposing their corrupt
practices in the government.[613]
To these general charges of delinquency the duchess added others, of a
more vulgar peculation. Viglius, who had taken priest's orders for the
purpose, was provost of the church of St. Bavon. Margaret openly accused
him of purloining the costly tapestries, the plate, the linen, the
jewels, and even considerable sums of money belonging to the
church.[614] She insisted on the impropriety of allowing such a man to
hold office under the government.
Nor was the president silent on his part, and in his correspondence with
Granvelle he retorts similar accusations in full measure on his enemies.
He roundly taxes the great nobles with simony and extortion. Offices,
both ecclesiastical and secular, were put up for sale in a shameless
manner, and disposed of to the highest bidder. It was in this way that
the bankrupt nobles paid their debts, by bestowing vacant places on
their creditors. Nor are the regent's hands, he intimates, altogether
clean from the stain of these transactions.[615] He accuses the lords,
moreover, of using their authority to interfere perpetually with the
course of justice. They had acquired an unbounded ascendancy over
Margaret, and treated her with a deference which, he adds, "is ever sure
to captivate the sex."[616] She was more especially under the influence
of her secretary, Armenteros, a creature of the nobles, who profited by
his position to fill his own coffers at the expense of the
exchequer.[617] For himself, he is in such disgrace for his resistance
to these disloyal proceedings, that the duchess excludes him as far as
possible from the management of affairs, and treats him with undisguised
coldness. Nothing but the desire to do his duty would induce him to
remain a day longer in a post like this, from which his only wish is
that his sovereign would release him.[618]
The president seems never to have written directly to Philip. It would
only expose him, he said, to the suspicions and the cavils of his
enemies. The wary statesman took warning by the fate of Granvelle. But
as his letters to the banished minister were all forwarded to Philip,
the monarch, with the despatches of his sister before him, had the means
of contemplating both sides of the picture, and of seeing that, to
whichever party he intrusted the government, the interests of the
country were little likely to be served. Had it been his father, the
emperor, who was on the throne, such knowledge would not have been in
his possession four and twenty hours, before he would have been on his
way to the Netherlands. But Philip was of a more sluggish temper. He was
capable, indeed, of much passive exertion,--of incredible toil in the
cabinet,--and from his palace, as was said, would have given law to
Christendom. But rather than encounter the difficulties of a voyage, he
was willing, it appears, to risk the loss of the finest of his
provinces.[619]
[Sidenote: ASCENDANCY OF THE NOBLES.]
Yet he wrote to his sister to encourage her with the prospect of his
visiting the country as soon as he could be released from a war in which
he was engaged with the Turks. He invited her, at the same time, to
send him further particulars of the misconduct of Viglius, and expressed
the hope that some means might be found of silencing his
opposition.[620]
It is not easy at this day to strike the balance between the hostile
parties, so as to decide on the justice of these mutual accusations, and
to assign to each the proper share of responsibility for the
mismanagement of the government. That it was mismanaged is certain. That
offices were put up for sale is undeniable; for the duchess frankly
discusses the expediency of it, in a letter to her brother. This, at
least, absolves the act from the imputation of secrecy. The conflict of
the council of state with the two other councils often led to disorders,
since the decrees passed by the privy council, which had cognizance of
matters of justice, were frequently frustrated by the amnesties and
pardons granted by the council of state. To remedy this, the nobles
contended that it was necessary to subject the decrees of the other
councils to the revision of the council of state, and, in a word, to
concentrate in this last body the whole authority of government.[621]
The council of state, composed chiefly of the great aristocracy, looked
down with contempt on those subordinate councils, made up for the most
part of men of humbler condition, pledged by their elevation to office
to maintain the interests of the crown. They would have placed the
administration of the country in the hands of an oligarchy, made up of
the great Flemish nobles. This would be to break up that system of
distribution into separate departments established by Charles the Fifth
for the more perfect despatch of business. It would, in short, be such a
change in the constitution of the country as would of itself amount to a
revolution.
In the state of things above described, the Reformation gained rapidly
in the country. The nobles generally, as has been already intimated,
were loyal to the Roman Catholic Church. Many of the younger nobility,
however, who had been educated at Geneva, returned tinctured with
heretical doctrines from the school of Calvin.[622] But whether Catholic
or Protestant, the Flemish aristocracy looked with distrust on the
system of persecution, and held the Inquisition in the same abhorrence
as did the great body of the people. It was fortunate for the
Reformation in the Netherlands, that at its outset it received the
support even of the Catholics, who resisted the Inquisition as an
outrage on their political liberties.
Under the lax administration of the edicts, exiles who had fled abroad
from persecution now returned to Flanders. Calvinist ministers and
refugees from France crossed the borders, and busied themselves with the
work of proselytism. Seditious pamphlets were circulated, calling on the
regent to confiscate the ecclesiastical revenues, and apply them to the
use of the state, as had been done in England.[623] The Inquisition
became an object of contempt, almost as much as of hatred. Two of the
principal functionaries wrote to Philip, that, without further support,
they could be of no use in a situation which exposed them only to
derision and danger.[624] At Bruges and at Brussels the mob entered the
prisons, and released the prisoners. A more flagrant violation of
justice occurred at Antwerp. A converted friar, named Fabricius, who had
been active in preaching and propagating the new doctrines, was tried
and sentenced to the stake. On the way to execution, the people called
out to him, from the balconies and the doorways, to "take courage, and
endure manfully to the last."[625] When the victim was bound to the
stake, and the pile was kindled, the mob discharged such a volley of
stones at the officers as speedily put them to flight. But the unhappy
man, though unscathed by the fire, was stabbed to the heart by the
executioner, who made his escape in the tumult. The next morning,
placards written in blood were found affixed to the public buildings,
threatening vengeance on all who had any part in the execution of
Fabricius; and one of the witnesses against him, a woman, hardly escaped
with life from the hands of the populace.[626]
The report of these proceedings caused a great sensation at Madrid; and
Philip earnestly called on his sister to hunt out and pursue the
offenders. This was not easy, where most, even of those who did not join
in the act, fully shared in the feeling which led to it. Yet Philip
continued to urge the necessity of enforcing the laws for the
preservation of the Faith, as the thing dearest to his heart. He would
sometimes indicate in his letters the name of a suspicious individual,
his usual dress, his habits, and appearance,--descending into details
which may well surprise us, considering the multitude of affairs of a
weightier character that pressed upon his mind.[627] One cannot doubt
that Philip was at heart an inquisitor.
Yet the fires of persecution were not permitted wholly to slumber. The
historian of the Reformation enumerates seventeen who suffered capitally
for their religious opinions in the course of the year 1564.[628] This,
though pitiable, was a small number--if indeed it be the whole
number--compared with the thousands who are said to have perished in the
same space of time in the preceding reign. It was too small to produce
any effect as a persecution, while the sight of the martyr, singing
hymns in the midst of the flames, only kindled a livelier zeal in the
spectators, and a deeper hatred for their oppressors.
[Sidenote: THE REGENT'S EMBARRASSMENTS.]
The finances naturally felt the effects of the general disorder of the
country. The public debt, already large, as we have seen, was now so
much increased, that the yearly deficiency in the revenue, according to
the regent's own statement, amounted to six hundred thousand
florins;[629] and she knew of no way of extricating the country from its
embarrassments, unless the king should come to its assistance. The
convocation of the states-general was insisted on as the only remedy for
these disorders. That body alone, it was contended, was authorized to
vote the requisite subsidies, and to redress the manifold grievances of
the nation.--Yet, in point of fact, its powers had hitherto been little
more than to propose the subsidies for the approbation of the several
provinces, and to _remonstrate_ on the grievances of the nation. To
invest the states-general with the power of _redressing_ these
grievances would bestow on them legislative functions which they had
rarely, if ever, exercised. This would be to change the constitution of
the country, by the new weight it would give to the popular element; a
change which the great lords, who had already the lesser nobles entirely
at their disposal,[630] would probably know well how to turn to
account.[631] Yet Margaret had now so entirely resigned herself to their
influence, that, notwithstanding the obvious consequences of these
measures, she recommended to Philip both to assemble the states-general
and to remodel the council of state;[632]--and this to a monarch more
jealous of his authority than any other prince in Europe!
To add to the existing troubles, orders were received from the court of
Madrid to publish the decrees of the Council of Trent throughout the
Netherlands. That celebrated council had terminated its long session in
1563, with the results that might have been expected,--those of widening
the breach between Protestant and Catholic, and of enlarging, or at
least more firmly establishing, the authority of the pope. One good
result may be mentioned, that of providing for a more strict supervision
of the morals and discipline of the clergy;--a circumstance which caused
the decrees to be in extremely bad odor with that body.
It was hoped that Philip would imitate the example of France, and reject
decrees which thus exalted the power of the pope. Men were led to expect
this the more, from the mortification which the king had lately
experienced from a decision of the pontiff on a question of precedence
between the Castilian and French ambassadors at his court. This delicate
matter, long pending, had been finally determined in favor of France by
Pius the Fifth, who may have thought it more politic to secure a fickle
ally than to reward a firm one. The decision touched Philip to the
quick. He at once withdrew his ambassador from Rome, and refused to
receive an envoy from his holiness.[633] It seemed that a serious
rupture was likely to take place between the parties. But it was not in
the nature of Philip to be long at feud with the court of Rome. In a
letter to the duchess of Parma, dated August 6, 1564, he plainly
intimated that in matters of faith he was willing at all times to
sacrifice his private feelings to the public weal.[634] He subsequently
commanded the decrees of the Council of Trent to be received as law
throughout his dominions, saying that he could make no exception for the
Netherlands, when he made none for Spain.[635]
The promulgation of the decrees was received, as had been anticipated,
with general discontent. The clergy complained of the interference with
their immunities. The men of Brabant stood stoutly on the chartered
rights secured to them by the "_Joyeuse Entrée_". And the people
generally resisted the decrees, from a vague idea of their connection
with the Inquisition; while, as usual when mischief was on foot, they
loudly declaimed against Granvelle as being at the bottom of it.
In this unhappy condition of affairs, it was determined by the council
of state to send some one to Madrid to lay the grievances of the nation
before the king, and to submit to him what in their opinion would be the
most effectual remedy. They were the more induced to this by the
unsatisfactory nature of the royal correspondence. Philip, to the great
discontent of the lords, had scarcely condescended to notice their
letters.[636] Even to Margaret's ample communications he rarely
responded, and when he did, it was in vague and general terms, conveying
little more than the necessity of executing justice and watching over
the purity of the Faith.
The person selected for the unenviable mission to Madrid was Egmont,
whose sentiments of loyalty, and of devotion to the Catholic faith, it
was thought, would recommend him to the king; while his brilliant
reputation, his rank, and his popular manners would find favor with the
court and the people. Egmont himself was the less averse to the mission,
that he had some private suits of his own to urge with the monarch.
This nomination was warmly supported by William, between whom and the
count a perfectly good understanding seems to have subsisted, in spite
of the efforts of the Cardinalists to revive their ancient feelings of
jealousy. Yet these feelings still glowed in the bosoms of the wives of
the two nobles, as was evident from the warmth with which they disputed
the question of precedence with each other. Both were of the highest
rank, and, as there was no umpire to settle the delicate question, it
was finally arranged by the two ladies appearing in public always arm in
arm,--an equality which the haughty dames were careful to maintain, in
spite of the ridiculous embarrassments to which they were occasionally
exposed by narrow passages and doorways.[637] If the question of
precedence had related to character, it would have been easily settled.
The troubles from the misconduct of Anne of Saxony bore as heavily on
the prince, her husband, at this very time, as the troubles of the
state.[638]
[Sidenote: EGMONT SENT TO SPAIN.]
Before Egmont's departure, a meeting of the council of state was called,
to furnish him with the proper instructions. The president, Viglius,
gave it as his opinion, that the mission was superfluous; and that the
great nobles had only to reform their own way of living to bring about
the necessary reforms in the country. Egmont was instructed by the
regent to represent to the king the deplorable condition of the land,
the prostration of public credit, the decay of religion, and the
symptoms of discontent and disloyalty in the people. As the most
effectual remedy for these evils, he was to urge the king to come in
person, and that speedily, to Flanders. "If his majesty does not approve
of this," said Margaret, "impress upon him the necessity of making
further remittances, and of giving me precise instructions as to the
course I am to pursue."[639]
The prince of Orange took part in the discussion with a warmth he had
rarely shown. It was time, he said, that the king should be disabused of
the errors under which he labored with respect to the Netherlands. The
edicts must be mitigated. It was not possible, in the present state of
feeling, either to execute the edicts or to maintain the
Inquisition.[640] The Council of Trent was almost equally odious; nor
could they enforce its decrees in the Netherlands while the countries on
the borders rejected them. The people would no longer endure the
perversion of justice, and the miserable wrangling of the
councils.--This last blow was aimed at the president.--The only remedy
was to enlarge the council of state, and to strengthen its authority.
For his own part, he concluded, he could not understand how any prince
could claim the right of interfering with the consciences of his
subjects in matters of religion.[641]--The impassioned tone of his
eloquence, so contrary to the usually calm manner of William the Silent,
and the boldness with which he avowed his opinions, caused a great
sensation in the assembly.[642] That night was passed by Viglius, who
gives his own account of the matter, in tossing on his bed, painfully
ruminating on his forlorn position in the council, with scarcely one to
support him in the contest which he was compelled to wage, not merely
with the nobles, but with the regent herself. The next morning, while
dressing, he was attacked by a fit of apoplexy, which partially deprived
him of the use of both his speech and his limbs.[643] It was some time
before he could resume his place at the board. This new misfortune
furnished him with a substantial argument for soliciting the king's
permission to retire from office. In this he was warmly seconded by
Margaret, who, while she urged the president's incapacity, nothing
touched by his situation, eagerly pressed her brother to call him to
account for his delinquencies, and especially his embezzlement of the
church property.[644]
Philip, who seems to have shunned any direct intercourse with his
Flemish subjects, had been averse to have Egmont, or any other envoy,
sent to Madrid. On learning that the mission was at length settled, he
wrote to Margaret that he had made up his mind to receive the count
graciously, and to show no discontent with the conduct of the lords.
That the journey, however, was not without its perils, may be inferred
from a singular document that has been preserved to us. It is signed by
a number of Egmont's personal friends, each of whom traced his signature
in his own blood. In this paper the parties pledge their faith, as true
knights and gentlemen, that if any harm be done to Count Egmont during
his absence, they will take ample vengeance on Cardinal Granvelle, or
whoever might be the author of it.[645] The cardinal seems to have been
the personification of evil with the Flemings of every degree. This
instrument, which was deposited with the Countess Egmont, was subscribed
with the names of seven nobles, most of them afterwards conspicuous in
the troubles of the country. One might imagine that such a document was
more likely to alarm than to reassure the wife to whom it was
addressed.[646]
In the beginning of January, Egmont set out on his journey. He was
accompanied for some distance by a party of his friends, who at Cambray
gave him a splendid entertainment. Among those present was the
archbishop of Cambray, a prelate who had made himself unpopular by the
zeal he had shown in the persecution of the Reformers. As the wine-cup
passed freely round, some of the younger guests amused themselves with
frequently pledging the prelate, and endeavoring to draw him into a
greater degree of conviviality than was altogether becoming his station.
As he at length declined their pledges, they began openly to taunt him;
and one of the revellers, irritated by the archbishop's reply, would
have thrown a large silver dish at his head, had not his arm been
arrested by Egmont. Another of the company, however, succeeded in
knocking off the prelate's cap;[647] and a scene of tumult ensued, from
which the archbishop was extricated, not without difficulty, by the more
sober and considerate part of the company. The whole affair--mortifying
in the extreme to Egmont--is characteristic of the country at this
period; when business of the greatest importance was settled at the
banquet, as we often find in the earlier history of the revolution.
[Sidenote: EGMONT SENT TO SPAIN.]
Egmont's reception at Madrid was of the most flattering kind. Philip's
demeanor towards his great vassal was marked by unusual benignity; and
the courtiers, readily taking their cue from their sovereign, vied with
one another in attentions to the man whose prowess might be said to have
won for Spain the great victories of Gravelines and St. Quentin. In
fine, Egmont, whose brilliant exterior and noble bearing gave additional
lustre to his reputation, was the object of general admiration during
his residence of several weeks at Madrid. It seemed as if the court of
Castile was prepared to change its policy, from the flattering
attentions it thus paid to the representative of the Netherlands.
During his stay, Egmont was admitted to several audiences, in which he
exposed to the monarch the evils that beset the country, and the
measures proposed for relieving them. As the two most effectual, he
pressed him to mitigate the edicts, and to reorganize the council of
state.[648] Philip listened with much benignity to these suggestions of
the Flemish noble; and if he did not acquiesce, he gave no intimation to
the contrary, except by assuring the count of his determination to
maintain the integrity of the Catholic faith. To Egmont personally he
showed the greatest indulgence, and the count's private suits sped as
favorably as he could have expected. But a remarkable anecdote proves
that Philip, at this very time, with all this gracious demeanor, had not
receded one step from the ground he had always occupied.
Not long after Egmont's arrival, Philip privately called a meeting of
the most eminent theologians in the capital. To this conclave he
communicated briefly the state of the Low Countries, and their demand to
enjoy freedom of conscience in matters of religion. He concluded by
inquiring the opinion of his auditors on the subject. The reverend body,
doubtless supposing that the king only wanted their sanction to
extricate himself from the difficulties of his position, made answer,
"that, considering the critical situation of Flanders, and the imminent
danger, if thwarted, of its disloyalty to the crown and total defection
from the Church, he might be justified in allowing the people freedom of
worshipping in their own way." To this Philip sternly replied, "He had
not called them to learn whether he _might_ grant this to the Flemings,
but whether he _must_ do so."[649] The flexible conclave, finding they
had mistaken their cue, promptly answered in the negative; on which
Philip, prostrating himself on the ground before a crucifix, exclaimed,
"I implore thy divine majesty, Ruler of all things, that thou keep me in
the mind that I am in, never to allow myself either to become or to be
called the lord of those who reject thee for their Lord."[650]--The
story was told to the historian who records it by a member of the
assembly, filled with admiration at the pious zeal of the monarch! From
that moment the doom of the Netherlands was sealed.
Yet Egmont had so little knowledge of the true state of things, that he
indulged in the most cheerful prognostications for the future. His frank
and cordial nature readily responded to the friendly demonstrations he
received, and his vanity was gratified by the homage universally paid to
him. On leaving the country, he made a visit to the royal residences of
Segovia and of the Escorial,--the magnificent pile already begun by
Philip, and which continued to occupy more or less of his time during
the remainder of his reign. Egmont, in a letter addressed to the king,
declares himself highly delighted with what he has seen at both these
places, and assures his sovereign that he returns to Flanders the most
contented man in the world.[651]
When arrived there, early in April, 1565, the count was loud in his
profession of the amiable dispositions of the Castilian court towards
the Netherlands. Egmont's countrymen--William of Orange and a few
persons of cooler judgment alone excepted--readily indulged in the same
dream of sanguine expectation, flattering themselves with the belief
that a new policy was to prevail at Madrid, and that their country was
henceforth to thrive under the blessings of religious toleration.--It
was a pleasing illusion, destined to be of no long duration.