THE ICONOCLASTS.
Cathedral of Antwerp sacked.--Sacrilegious Outrages.--Alarm at
Brussels.--Churches granted to Reformers.--Margaret repents her
Concessions.--Feeling at Madrid.--Sagacity of Orange.--His Religious
Opinions.
1566.
While Philip was thus tardily coming to concessions which even then were
not sincere, an important crisis had arrived in the affairs of the
Netherlands. In the earlier stages of the troubles, all orders, the
nobles, the commons, even the regent, had united in the desire to
obtain the removal of certain abuses, especially the Inquisition and the
edicts. But this movement, in which the Catholic joined with the
Protestant, had far less reference to the interests of religion than to
the personal rights of the individual. Under the protection thus
afforded, however, the Reformation struck deep root in the soil. It
nourished still more under the favor shown to it by the confederates,
who, as we have seen, did not scruple to guaranty security of religions
worship to some of the sectaries who demanded it.
But the element which contributed most to the success of the new
religion was the public preachings. These in the Netherlands were what
the Jacobin clubs were in France, or the secret societies in Germany and
Italy,--an obvious means for bringing together such as were pledged to a
common hostility to existing institutions, and thus affording them an
opportunity for consulting on their grievances, and for concerting the
best means of redress. The direct object of these meetings, it is true,
was to listen to the teachings of the minister. But that functionary,
far from confining himself to spiritual exercises, usually wandered to
more exciting themes, as the corruptions of the Church and the condition
of the land. He rarely failed to descant on the forlorn circumstances of
himself and his flock, condemned thus stealthily to herd together like a
band of outlaws, with ropes, as it were, about their necks, and to seek
out some solitary spot in which to glorify the Lord, while their
enemies, in all the pride of a dominant religion, could offer up their
devotions openly and without fear, in magnificent temples. The preacher
inveighed bitterly against the richly benefited clergy of the rival
Church, whose lives of pampered ease too often furnished an indifferent
commentary on the doctrines they inculcated. His wrath was kindled by
the pompous ceremonial of the Church of Rome, so dazzling and attractive
to its votaries, but which the Reformer sourly contrasted with the naked
simplicity of the Protestant service. Of all abominations, however, the
greatest in his eyes was the worship of images, which he compared to the
idolatry that in ancient times had so often brought down the vengeance
of Jehovah on the nations of Palestine; and he called on his hearers,
not merely to remove idolatry from their hearts, but the idols from
their sight.[808] It was not wonderful that, thus stimulated by their
spiritual leaders, the people should be prepared for scenes similar to
those enacted by the Reformers in France and in Scotland; or that
Margaret, aware of the popular feeling, should have predicted such an
outbreak. At length it came, and on a scale and with a degree of
violence not surpassed either by the Huguenots or the disciples of Knox.
On the fourteenth of August, the day before the festival of the
Assumption of the Virgin, a mob, some three hundred in number, armed
with clubs, axes, and other implements of destruction, broke into the
churches around St. Omer, in the province of Flanders, overturned the
images, defaced the ornaments, and in a short time demolished whatever
had any value or beauty in the buildings. Growing bolder from the
impunity which attended their movements, they next proceeded to Ypres,
and had the audacity to break into the cathedral, and deal with it in
the same ruthless manner. Strengthened by the accession of other
miscreants from the various towns, they proceeded along the banks of the
Lys, and fell upon the churches of Menin, Comines, and other places on
its borders. The excitement now spread over the country. Everywhere the
populace was in arms. Churches, chapels, and convents were involved in
indiscriminate ruin. The storm, after sweeping over Flanders, and
desolating the flourishing cities of Valenciennes and Tournay,
descended on Brabant. Antwerp, the great commercial capital of the
country, was its first mark.[809]
[Sidenote: CATHEDRAL OF ANTWERP SACKED.]
The usual population of the town happened to be swelled at this time by
an influx of strangers from the neighboring country, who had come up to
celebrate the great festival of the Assumption of the Virgin.
Fortunately the prince of Orange was in the place, and by his presence
prevented any molestation to the procession, except what arose from the
occasional groans and hisses of the more zealous spectators among the
Protestants. The priests, however, on their return, had the discretion
to deposit the image in the chapel, instead of the conspicuous station
usually assigned to it in the cathedral, to receive there during the
coming week the adoration of the faithful.
On the following day, unluckily, the prince was recalled to Brussels. In
the evening some boys, who had found their way into the church, called
out to the Virgin, demanding "why little Mary had gone so early to her
nest, and whether she were afraid to show her face in public."[810] This
was followed by one of the party mounting into the pulpit, and there
mimicking the tones and gestures of the Catholic preacher. An honest
waterman who was present, a zealous son of the Church, scandalized by
this insult to his religion, sprang into the pulpit, and endeavored to
dislodge the usurper. The lad resisted. His comrades came to his rescue;
and a struggle ensued, which ended in both the parties being expelled
from the building by the officers.[811] This scandalous proceeding, it
may be thought, should have put the magistrates of the city on their
guard, and warned them to take some measures of defence for the
cathedral. But the admonition was not heeded.
On the following day a considerable number of the reformed party entered
the building, and were allowed to continue there after vespers, when the
rest of the congregation had withdrawn. Left in possession, their first
act was to break forth into one of the Psalms of David. The sound of
their own voices seemed to rouse them to fury. Before the chant had died
away, they rushed forward as by a common impulse, broke open the doors
of the chapel, and dragged forth the image of the Virgin. Some called on
her to cry, "_Vivent les Gueux!_" while others tore off her embroidered
robes, and rolled the dumb idol in the dust, amidst the shouts of the
spectators.
This was the signal for havoc. The rioters dispersed in all directions
on the work of destruction. Nothing escaped their rage. High above the
great altar was an image of the Saviour, curiously carved in wood, and
placed between the effigies of the two thieves crucified with him. The
mob contrived to get a rope round the neck of the statue of Christ, and
dragged it to the ground. They then fell upon it with hatchets and
hammers, and it was soon broken into a hundred fragments. The two
thieves, it was remarked, were spared, as if to preside over the work of
rapine below.
Their fury now turned against the other statues, which were quickly
overthrown from their pedestals. The paintings that lined the walls of
the cathedral were cut into shreds. Many of these were the choicest
specimens of Flemish art, even then, in its dawn, giving promise of the
glorious day which was to shed a lustre over the land.
But the pride of the cathedral, and of Antwerp, was the great organ,
renowned throughout the Netherlands, not more for its dimensions than
its perfect workmanship. With their ladders the rioters scaled the lofty
fabric, and with their implements soon converted it, like all else they
laid their hands on, into a heap of rubbish.
The ruin was now universal. Nothing beautiful, nothing holy, was spared.
The altars--and there were no less than seventy in the vast
edifice--were overthrown one after another; their richly embroidered
coverings rudely rent away; their gold and silver vessels appropriated
by the plunderers. The sacramental bread was trodden under foot; the
wine was quaffed by the miscreants, in golden chalices, to the health of
one another, or of the Gueux; and the holy oil was profanely used to
anoint their shoes and sandals. The sculptured tracery on the walls, the
costly offerings that enriched the shrines, the screens of gilded
bronze, the delicately carved wood-work of the pulpit, the marble and
alabaster ornaments, all went down under the fierce blows of the
iconoclasts. The pavement was strewed with the ruined splendors of a
church, which in size and magnificence was perhaps second only to St.
Peter's among the churches of Christendom.
As the light of day faded, the assailants supplied its place with such
light as they could obtain from the candles which they snatched from the
altars. It was midnight before the work of destruction was completed.
Thus toiling in darkness, feebly dispelled by tapers the rays of which
could scarcely penetrate the vaulted distances of the cathedral, it is a
curious circumstance--if true--than no one was injured by the heavy
masses of timber, stone, and metal that were everywhere falling around
them.[812] The whole number engaged in this work is said not to have
exceeded a hundred men, women, and boys,--women of the lowest
description, dressed in men's attire.
When their task was completed, they sallied forth in a body from the
doors of the cathedral, some singing the Psalms of David, others roaring
out the fanatical war-cry of "_Vivent les Gueux!_" Flushed with success,
and joined on the way by stragglers like themselves, they burst open the
doors of one church after another; and by the time morning broke, the
principal temples in the city had been dealt with in the same ruthless
manner as the cathedral.[813]
No attempt all this time was made to stop these proceedings on the part
of magistrates or citizens. As they beheld from their windows the bodies
of armed men hurrying to and fro by the gleam of their torches, and
listened to the sounds of violence in the distance, they seem to have
been struck with a panic. The Catholics remained within doors, fearing a
general rising of the Protestants. The Protestants feared to move
abroad, lest they should be confounded with the rioters. Some imagined
their own turn might come next, and appeared in arms at the entrances of
their houses, prepared to defend them against the enemy.
[Sidenote: SACRILEGIOUS OUTRAGES.]
When gorged with the plunder of the city, the insurgents poured out at
the gates, and fell with the same violence on the churches, convents,
and other religious edifices in the suburbs. For three days these dismal
scenes continued, without resistance on the part of the inhabitants.
Amidst the ruin in the cathedral, the mob had alone spared the royal
arms and the escutcheons of the knights of the Golden Fleece, emblazoned
on the walls. Calling this to mind, they now returned into the city to
complete the work. But some of the knights, who were at Antwerp,
collected a handful of their followers, and, with a few of the citizens,
forced their way into the cathedral, arrested ten or twelve of the
rioters, and easily dispersed the remainder; while a gallows erected on
an eminence admonished the offenders of the fate that awaited them. The
facility with which the disorders were repressed by a few resolute men
naturally suggests the inference, that many of the citizens had too much
sympathy with the authors of the outrages to care to check them, still
less to bring the culprits to punishment. An orthodox chronicler of the
time vents his indignation against a people who were so much more ready
to stand by their hearths than by their altars.[814]
The fate of Antwerp had its effect on the country. The flames of
fanaticism, burning fiercer than ever, quickly spread over the northern,
as they had done over the western provinces. In Holland, Utrecht,
Friesland,--everywhere, in short, with a few exceptions on the southern
borders,--mobs rose against the churches. In some places, as Rotterdam,
Dort, Haarlem, the magistrates were wary enough to avert the storm by
delivering up the images, or at least by removing them from the
buildings.[815] It was rare that any attempt was made at resistance. Yet
on one or two occasions this so far succeeded that a handful of troops
sufficed to rout the iconoclasts. At Anchyn, four hundred of the rabble
were left dead on the field. But the soldiers had no relish for their
duty, and on other occasions, when called on to perform it, refused to
bear arms against their countrymen.[816] The leaven of heresy was too
widely spread among the people.
Thus the work of plunder and devastation went on vigorously throughout
the land. Cathedral and chapel, monastery and nunnery, religious houses
of every description, even hospitals, were delivered up to the tender
mercies of the Reformers. The monks fled, leaving behind them treasures
of manuscripts and well-stored cellars, which latter the invaders soon
emptied of their contents, while they consigned the former to the
flames. The terrified nuns, escaping half naked, at dead of night, from
their convents, were too happy to find a retreat among their friends and
kinsmen in the city.[817] Neither monk nor nun ventured to go abroad in
the conventual garb. Priests might be sometimes seen hurrying away with
some relic or sacred treasure under their robes, which they were eager
to save from the spoilers. In the general sack not even the abode of the
dead was respected; and the sepulchres of the counts of Flanders were
violated, and laid open to the public gaze![818]
The deeds of violence perpetrated by the iconoclasts were accompanied by
such indignities as might express their contempt for the ancient faith.
They snatched the wafer, says an eye-witness, from the altar, and put it
into the mouth of a parrot. Some huddled the images of the saints
together, and set them on fire, or covered them with bits of armor, and,
shouting "_Vivent les Gueux!_" tilted rudely against them. Some put on
the vestments stolen from the churches, and ran about the streets with
them in mockery. Some basted the books with butter, that they might burn
the more briskly.[819] By the scholar, this last enormity will not be
held light among their transgressions. It answered their purpose, to
judge by the number of volumes that were consumed. Among the rest, the
great library of Vicogne, one of the noblest collections in the
Netherlands, perished in the flames kindled by these fanatics.[820]
The amount of injury inflicted during this dismal period it is not
possible to estimate. Four hundred churches were sacked by the
insurgents in Flanders alone.[821] The damage to the cathedral of
Antwerp, including its precious contents, was said to amount to not less
than four hundred thousand ducats![822] The loss occasioned by the
plunder of gold and silver plate might be computed. The structures so
cruelly defaced might be repaired by the skill of the architect. But who
can estimate the irreparable loss occasioned by the destruction of
manuscripts, statuary, and paintings? It is a melancholy fact, that the
earliest efforts of the Reformers were everywhere directed against those
monuments of genius which had been created and cherished by the generous
patronage of Catholicism. But if the first step of the Reformation was
on the ruins of art, it cannot be denied that a compensation has been
found in the good which it has done by breaking the fetters of the
intellect, and opening a free range in those domains of science to which
all access had been hitherto denied.
The wide extent of the devastation was not more remarkable than the time
in which it was accomplished. The whole work occupied less than a
fortnight. It seemed as if the destroying angel had passed over the
land, and at a blow had consigned its noblest edifices to ruin! The
method and discipline, if I may so say, in the movements of the
iconoclasts, were as extraordinary as their celerity. They would seem to
have been directed by some other hands than those which met the vulgar
eye. The quantity of gold and silver plate purloined from the churches
and convents was immense. Though doubtless sometimes appropriated by
individuals, it seems not unfrequently to have been gathered in a heap,
and delivered to the minister, who, either of himself, or by direction
of the consistory, caused it to be melted down, and distributed among
the most needy of the sectaries.[823] We may sympathize with the
indignation of a Catholic writer of the time, who exclaims, that in this
way the poor churchmen were made to pay for the scourges with which they
had been beaten.[824]
[Sidenote: ALARM AT BRUSSELS.]
The tidings of the outbreak fell heavily on the ears of the court of
Brussels, where the regent, notwithstanding her prediction of the
event, was not any the better prepared for it. She at once called her
counsellors together and demanded their aid in defending the religion of
the country against its enemies. But the prince of Orange and his
friends discouraged a resort to violent measures, as little likely to
prevail in the present temper of the people. "First," said Egmont, "let
us provide for the security of the state. It will be time enough then to
think of religion." "No," said Margaret, warmly; "the service of God
demands our first care; for the ruin of religion would be a greater evil
than the loss of the country."[825] "Those who have anything to lose in
it," replied the count, somewhat coolly, "will probably be of a
different opinion,"[826]--an answer that greatly displeased the duchess.
Rumors now came thick on one another of the outrages committed by the
image-breakers. Fears were entertained that their next move would be on
the capital itself. Hitherto the presence of the regent had preserved
Brussels, notwithstanding some transient demonstrations among the
people, from the spirit of reform which had convulsed the rest of the
country. No public meetings had been held either in the city or the
suburbs; for Margaret had declared she would hang up, not only the
preacher, but all those who attended him.[827] The menace had its
effect. Thus keeping aloof from the general movement of the time, the
capital was looked on with an evil eye by the surrounding country; and
reports were rife, that the iconoclasts were preparing to march in such
force on the place, as should enable them to deal with it as they had
done with Antwerp and the other cities of Brabant.
The question now arose as to the course to be pursued in the present
exigency. The prince of Orange and his friends earnestly advised that
Margaret should secure the aid of the confederates by the concessions
they had so strenuously demanded; in the next place, that she should
conciliate the Protestants by consenting to their religious meetings. To
the former she made no objection. But the latter she peremptorily
refused. "It would be the ruin of our holy religion," she said. It was
in vain they urged, that two hundred thousand sectaries were in arms;
that they were already in possession of the churches; that, if she
persisted in her refusal, they would soon be in Brussels, and massacre
every priest and Roman Catholic before her eyes![828] Notwithstanding
this glowing picture of the horrors in store for her, Margaret remained
inflexible. But her agitation was excessive: she felt herself alone in
her extremity. The party of Granvelle she had long since abandoned. The
party of Orange seemed now ready to abandon her. "I am pressed by
enemies within and without," she wrote to Philip; "there is no one on
whom I can rely for counsel or for aid."[829] Distrust and anxiety
brought on a fever, and for several days and nights she lay tossing
about, suffering equally from distress of body and anguish of
spirit.[830]
Thus sorely perplexed, Margaret felt also the most serious apprehensions
for her personal safety. With the slight means of defence at her
command, Brussels seemed no longer a safe residence, and she finally
came to the resolution to extricate herself from the danger and
difficulties of her situation by a precipitate flight. After a brief
consultation with Barlaimont, Arschot, and others of the party opposed
to the prince of Orange, and hitherto little in her confidence, she
determined to abandon the capital, and seek a refuge in Mons,--a strong
town in Hainault, belonging to the duke of Arschot, which, from its
sturdy attachment to the Romish faith, had little to fear from the
fanatics.
Having completed her preparations with the greatest secrecy, on the day
fixed for her flight Margaret called her council together to communicate
her design. It met with the most decided opposition, not merely from the
lords with whom she had hitherto acted, but from the president Viglius.
They all united in endeavoring to turn her from a measure which would
plainly intimate such a want of confidence on the part of the duchess as
must dishonor them in the eyes of the world. The preparations for
Margaret's flight had not been conducted so secretly but that some rumor
of them had taken wind; and the magistrates of the city now waited on
her in a body, and besought her not to leave them, defenceless as they
were, to the mercy of their enemies.
The prince was heard to say, that, if the regent thus abandoned the
government, it would be necessary to call the states-general together at
once, to take measures for the protection of the country.[831] And
Egmont declared that, if she fled to Mons, he would muster forty
thousand men, and besiege Mons in person.[832] The threat was not a vain
one, for no man in the country could have gathered such a force under
his banner more easily than Egmont. The question seems to have been
finally settled by the magistrates causing the gates of the town to be
secured, and a strong guard placed over them, with orders to allow no
passage either to the duchess or her followers.--Thus a prisoner in her
own capital, Margaret conformed to necessity, and, with the best grace
she could, consented to relinquish her scheme of departure.[833]
[Sidenote: CHURCHES GRANTED TO REFORMERS.]
The question now recurred as to the course to be pursued; and the more
she pondered on the embarrassments of her position, the more she became
satisfied that no means of extricating herself remained but that
proposed by the nobles. Yet, in thus yielding to necessity, she did so
protesting that she was acting under compulsion.[834] On the
twenty-third of August, Margaret executed an instrument, by which she
engaged that no harm should come to the members of the league for
anything hitherto done by them. She further authorized the lords to
announce to the confederates her consent to the religious meetings of
the Reformed, in places where they had been hitherto held, until his
majesty and the states-general should otherwise determine. It was on the
condition, however, that they should go there unarmed, and nowhere offer
disturbance to the Catholics.
On the twenty-fifth of the month the confederate nobles signed an
agreement on their part and solemnly swore that they would aid the
regent to the utmost in suppressing the disorders of the country, and in
bringing their authors to justice; agreeing, moreover, that, so long as
the regent should be true to the compact, the league should be
considered as null and void.[835]
The feelings of Margaret, in making the concessions required of her, may
be gathered from the perusal of her private correspondence with her
brother. No act in her public life ever caused her so deep a
mortification; and she never forgave the authors of it. "It was forced
upon me," she writes to Philip; "but, happily, you will not be bound by
it." And she beseeches him to come at once, in such strength as would
enable him to conquer the country for himself, or to give her the means
of doing so.[836]--Margaret, in early life, had been placed in the hands
of Ignatius Loyola. More than one passage in her history proves that the
lessons of the Jesuit had not been thrown away.
During these discussions the panic had been such, that it was thought
advisable to strengthen the garrison under command of Count Mansfeldt,
and keep the greater part of the citizens under arms day and night. When
this arrangement was concluded, the great lords dispersed on their
mission to restore order in their several governments. The prince went
first to Antwerp, where, as we have seen, he held the office of
burgrave. He made strict investigation into the causes of the late
tumult, hung three of the ringleaders, and banished three others. He
found it, however, no easy matter to come to terms with the sectaries,
who had possession of all the churches, from which they had driven the
Catholics. After long negotiation, it was arranged that they should be
allowed to hold six, and should resign the rest to the ancient
possessors. The arrangement gave general satisfaction, and the principal
citizens and merchants congratulated William on having rescued them from
the evils of anarchy.
Not so the regent. She knew well that the example of Antwerp would
become a precedent for the rest of the country. She denounced the
compact, as compromising the interests of Catholicism, and openly
accused the prince of having transcended his powers, and betrayed the
trust reposed in him. Finally, she wrote, commanding him at once to
revoke his concessions.
William, in answer, explained to her the grounds on which they had been
made, and their absolute necessity, in order to save the city from
anarchy. It is a strong argument in his favor, that the Protestants, who
already claimed the prince as one of their own sect, accused him, in
this instance, of sacrificing their cause to that of their enemies; and
caricatures of him were made, representing him with open hands and a
double face.[837] William, while thus explaining his conduct, did not
conceal his indignation at the charges brought against him by the
regent, and renewed his request for leave to resign his offices, since
he no longer enjoyed her confidence. But whatever disgust she may have
felt at his present conduct, William's services were too important to
Margaret in this crisis to allow her to dispense with them; and she
made haste to write to him in a conciliatory tone, explaining away as
far as possible what had been offensive in her former letters. Yet from
this hour the consciousness of mutual distrust raised a barrier between
the parties never to be overcome.[838]
William next proceeded to his governments of Utrecht and Holland, which,
by a similar course of measures to that pursued at Antwerp, he soon
restored to order. While in Utrecht, he presented to the states of the
province a memorial, in which he briefly reviewed the condition of the
country. He urged the necessity of religious toleration, as demanded by
the spirit of the age, and as particularly necessary in a country like
that, the resort of so many foreigners, and inhabited by sects of such
various denominations. He concluded by recommending them to lay a
petition to that effect before the throne,--not, probably, from any
belief that such a petition would be heeded by the monarch, but from the
effect it would have in strengthening the principles of religious
freedom in his countrymen. William's memorial is altogether a remarkable
paper for the time, and in the wise and liberal tenor of its arguments
strikingly contrasts with the intolerant spirit of the court of
Madrid.[839]
The regent proved correct in her prediction that the example of Antwerp
would be made a precedent for the country. William's friends, the Counts
Hoorne and Hoogstraten, employed the same means for conciliating the
sectaries in their own governments. It was otherwise with Egmont. He was
too stanch a Catholic at heart to approve of such concessions. He
carried matters, therefore, with a high hand in his provinces of
Flanders and Artois, where his personal authority was unbounded. He made
a severe scrutiny into the causes of the late tumult, and dealt with its
authors so sternly, as to provoke a general complaint among the reformed
party, some of whom, indeed, became so far alarmed for their own safety,
that they left the provinces and went beyond sea.
Order now seemed to be reëstablished in the land, through the efforts of
the nobles, aided by the confederates, who seem to have faithfully
executed their part of the compact with the regent. The Protestants took
possession of the churches assigned to them, or busied themselves with
raising others on the ground before reserved for their meetings. All
joined in the good work; the men laboring at the building, the women
giving their jewels and ornaments to defray the cost of the materials. A
calm succeeded,--a temporary lull after the hurricane; and Lutheran and
Calvinist again indulged in the pleasing illusion, that, however
distasteful it might be to the government, they were at length secure of
the blessings of religious toleration.
During the occurrence of these events a great change had taken place in
the relations of parties. The Catholic members of the league, who had
proposed nothing beyond the reform of certain glaring abuses, and, least
of all, anything prejudicial to their own religion, were startled as
they saw the inevitable result of the course they were pursuing. Several
of them, as we have seen, had left the league before the outbreak of the
iconoclasts; and after that event, but very few remained in it. The
confederates, on the other hand, lost ground with the people, who looked
with distrust on their late arrangement with the regent, in which they
had so well provided for their own security. The confidence of the
people was not restored by the ready aid which their old allies seemed
willing to afford the great nobles in bringing to justice the authors
of the recent disorders.[840] Thus deserted by many of its own members,
distrusted by the Reformers, and detested by the regent, the league
ceased from that period to exert any considerable influence on the
affairs of the country.
[Sidenote: MARGARET REPENTS HER CONCESSIONS.]
A change equally important had taken place in the politics of the court.
The main object with Margaret, from the first, had been to secure the
public tranquillity. To effect this she had more than once so far
deferred to the judgment of William and his friends, as to pursue a
policy not the most welcome to herself. But it had never been her
thought to extend that policy to the point of religious toleration. So
far from it, she declared that, even though the king should admit two
religions in the state, she would rather be torn in pieces than consent
to it.[841] It was not till the coalition of the nobles, that her eyes
were opened to the path she was treading. The subsequent outrages of the
iconoclasts made her comprehend she was on the verge of a precipice. The
concessions wrung from her, at that time, by Orange and his friends,
filled up the measure of her indignation. A great gulf now opened
between her and the party by whom she had been so long directed. Yet
where could she turn for support? One course only remained; and it was
with a bitter feeling that she felt constrained to throw herself into
the arms of the very party which she had almost estranged from her
counsels. In her extremity she sent for the president Viglius, on whose
head she had poured out so many anathemas in her correspondence with
Philip,--whom she had not hesitated to charge with the grossest
peculation.
Margaret sent for the old councillor, and, with tears in her eyes,
demanded his advice in the present exigency. The president naturally
expressed his surprise at this mark of confidence from one who had so
carefully excluded him from her counsels for the last two years.
Margaret, after some acknowledgment of her mistake, intimated a hope
that this would be no impediment to his giving her the counsel she now
so much needed. Viglius answered by inquiring whether she were prepared
faithfully to carry out what she knew to be the will of the king. On
Margaret's replying in the affirmative, he recommended that she should
put the same question to each member of her cabinet. "Their answers,"
said the old statesman, "will show you whom you are to trust." The
question--the touchstone of loyalty--was accordingly put; and the
minister, who relates the anecdote himself, tells us that three only,
Mansfeldt, Barlaimont, and Arschot, were prepared to stand by the regent
in carrying out the policy of the crown. From that hour the regent's
confidence was transferred from the party with which she had hitherto
acted, to their rivals.[842]
It is amusing to trace the change of Margaret's sentiments in her
correspondence of this period with her brother. "Orange and Hoorne prove
themselves, by word and by deed, enemies of God and the king."[843] Of
Egmont she speaks no better. "With all his protestations of loyalty,"
she fears he is only plotting mischief to the state. "He has openly
joined the Gueux, and his eldest daughter is reported to be a
Huguenot."[844] Her great concern is for the safety of Viglius, "almost
paralyzed by his fears, as the people actually threaten to tear him in
pieces."[845] The factious lords conduct affairs according to their own
pleasure in the council; and it is understood they are negotiating at
the present moment to bring about a collision between the Protestants of
Germany, France, and England, hoping in the end to drive the house of
Austria from the throne, to shake off the yoke of Spain from the
Netherlands, and divide the provinces among themselves and their
friends![846] Margaret's credulity seems to have been in proportion to
her hatred, and her hatred in proportion to her former friendship. So it
was in her quarrel with Granvelle, and she now dealt the same measure to
the men who had succeeded that minister in her confidence.
The prince of Orange cared little for the regent's estrangement. He had
long felt that his own path lay wide asunder from that of the
government, and, as we have seen, had more than once asked leave to
resign his offices, and withdraw into private life. Hoorne viewed the
matter with equal indifference. He had also asked leave to retire,
complaining that his services had been poorly requited by the
government. He was a man of a bold, impatient temper. In a letter to
Philip he told him that it was not the regent, but his majesty, of whom
he complained, for compelling him to undergo the annoyance of dancing
attendance at the court of Brussels![847] He further added, that he had
not discussed his conduct with the duchess, as it was not his way to
treat of affairs of honor with ladies![848] There was certainly no want
of plain-dealing in this communication with majesty.
Count Egmont took the coolness of the regent in a very different manner.
It touched his honor, perhaps his vanity, to be thus excluded from her
confidence. He felt it the more keenly as he was so loyal at heart, and
strongly attached to the Romish faith. On the other hand, his generous
nature was deeply sensible to the wrongs of his countrymen. Thus drawn
in opposite directions, he took the middle course,--by no means the
safest in politics. Under these opposite influences he remained in a
state of dangerous irresolution. His sympathy with the cause of the
confederates lost him the confidence of the government. His loyalty to
the government excluded him from the councils of the confederates. And
thus, though perhaps the most popular man in the Netherlands, there was
no one who possessed less real influence in public affairs.[849]
[Sidenote: THE FEELING AT MADRID.]
The tidings of the tumults in the Netherlands, which travelled with the
usual expedition of evil news, caused as great consternation at the
court of Castile as it had done at that of Brussels. Philip, on
receiving his despatches, burst forth, it is said, into the most violent
fit of anger, and, tearing his beard, he exclaimed, "It shall cost them
dear; by the soul of my father I swear it, it shall cost them
dear!"[850] The anecdote, often repeated, rests on the authority of
Granvelle's correspondent, Morillon. If it be true, it affords a
solitary exception to the habitual self-command--displayed in
circumstances quite as trying--of the "prudent" monarch. The account
given by Hopper, who was with the court at the time, is the more
probable of the two. According to that minister, the king, when he
received the tidings, lay ill of a tertian fever at Segovia. As letter
after letter came to him with particulars of the tumult, he maintained
his usual serenity, exhibiting no sign of passion or vexation. Though
enfeebled by his malady, he allowed himself no repose, but gave
unremitting attention to business.[851] He read all the despatches; made
careful notes of their contents, sending such information as he deemed
best to his council, for their consideration; and, as his health mended,
occasionally attended in person the discussions of that body.
One can feel but little doubt as to the light in which the proceedings
in the Netherlands were regarded by the royal council of Castile. Yet it
did not throw the whole, or even the chief blame, on the iconoclasts.
They were regarded as mere tools in the hands of the sectaries. The
sectaries, on their part, were, it was said, moved by the confederates,
on whom they leaned for protection. The confederates, in their turn,
made common cause with the great lords, to whom many of them were bound
by the closest ties of friendship and of blood. By this ingenious chain
of reasoning, all were made responsible for the acts of violence; but
the chief responsibility lay on the heads of the great nobles, on whom
all in the last resort depended. It was against them that the public
indignation should be directed, not against the meaner offenders, over
whom alone the sword of justice had been hitherto suspended. But the
king should dissemble his sentiments until he was in condition to call
these great vassals to account for their misdeeds. All joined in
beseeching Philip to defer no longer his visit to Flanders; and most of
them recommended that he should go in such force as to look down
opposition, and crush the rebellion in its birth.
Such was the counsel of Alva, in conformity with that which he had
always given on the subject. But although all concurred in urging the
king to expedite his departure, some of the councillors followed the
prince of Eboli in advising Philip that, instead of this warlike
panoply, he should go in peaceable guise, accompanied only by such a
retinue as befitted the royal dignity. Each of the great rivals
recommended the measures most congenial with his own temper, the
direction of which would no doubt be intrusted to the man who
recommended them. It is not strange that the more violent course should
have found favor with the majority.[852]
Philip's own decision he kept, as usual, locked in his own bosom. He
wrote indeed to his sister, warning her not to allow the meeting of the
legislature, and announcing his speedy coming,--all as usual; and he
added, that, in repressing the disorders of the country, he should use
no other means than those of gentleness and kindness, under the sanction
of the states.[853] These gentle professions weighed little with those
who, like the prince of Orange, had surer means of arriving at the
king's intent than what were afforded by the royal correspondence.
Montigny, the Flemish envoy, was still in Madrid, held there, sorely
against his will, in a sort of honorable captivity by Philip. In a
letter to his brother, Count Hoorne, he wrote: "Nothing can be in worse
odor than our affairs at the court of Castile. The great lords, in
particular, are considered as the source of all the mischief. Violent
counsels are altogether in the ascendant, and the storm may burst on you
sooner than you think. Nothing remains but to fly from it like a prudent
man, or to face it like a brave one!"[854]
William had other sources of intelligence, the secret agents whom he
kept in pay at Madrid. From them he learned, not only what was passing
at the court, but in the very cabinet of the monarch; and extracts,
sometimes full copies, of the correspondence of Philip and Margaret,
were transmitted to the prince. Thus the secrets which the most jealous
prince in Europe supposed to be locked in his own breast were often in
possession of his enemies; and William, as we are told, declared that
there was no word of Philip's, public or private, but was reported to
his ears![855]
[Sidenote: THE FEELING AT MADRID.]
This secret intelligence, on which the prince expended large sums of
money, was not confined to Madrid. He maintained a similar system of
espionage in Paris, where the court of Castile was busy with its
intrigues for the extermination of heresy. Those who look on these
trickish proceedings as unworthy of the character of the prince of
Orange and the position which he held, should consider that it was in
accordance with the spirit of the age. It was but turning Philip's own
arts against himself, and using the only means by which William could
hope to penetrate the dark and unscrupulous policy of a cabinet whose
chief aim, as he thought, was to subvert the liberties of his country.
It was at this time that his agents in France intercepted a letter from
Alava, the Spanish minister at the French court. It was addressed to the
duchess of Parma. Among other things, the writer says it is well
understood at Madrid, that the great nobles are at the bottom of the
troubles of Flanders. The king is levying a strong force, with which he
will soon visit the country, and call the three lords to a heavy
reckoning. In the mean time the duchess must be on her guard not by any
change in her deportment to betray her consciousness of this
intent.[856]
Thus admonished from various quarters, the prince felt that it was no
longer safe for him to remain in his present position; and that in the
words of Montigny, he must be prepared to fight or to fly. He resolved
to take counsel with some of those friends who were similarly situated
with himself. In a communication made to Egmont in order to persuade him
to a conference, William speaks of Philip's military preparations as
equally to be dreaded by Catholic and Protestant; for under the pretext
of religion, Philip had no other object in view than to enslave the
nation. "This has been always feared by us," he adds;[857] "and I cannot
stay to witness the ruin of my country."
The parties met at Dendermonde on the third of October. Besides the two
friends and Count Hoorne, there were William's brother, Louis, and a few
other persons of consideration. Little is actually known of the
proceedings at this conference, notwithstanding the efforts of more than
one officious chronicler to enlighten us. Their contradictory accounts,
like so many cross lights on his path, serve only to perplex the eye of
the student. It seems probable, however, that the nobles generally,
including the prince, considered the time had arrived for active
measures; and that any armed intrusion on the part of Philip into the
Netherlands should be resisted by force. But Egmont, with all his causes
of discontent, was too loyal at heart not to shrink from the attitude of
rebellion. He had a larger stake than most of the company, in a numerous
family of children, who, in case of a disastrous revolution, would be
thrown helpless on the world. The benignity with which he had been
received by Philip on his mission to Spain, and which subsequent slights
had not effaced from his memory, made him confide, most unhappily, in
the favorable dispositions of the monarch. From whatever motives, the
count refused to become a party to any scheme of resistance; and as his
popularity with the troops made his coöperation of the last importance,
the conference broke up without coming to a determination.[858]
Egmont at once repaired to Brussels, whither he had been summoned by the
regent to attend the council of state. Orange and Hoorne received, each,
a similar summons, to which neither of them paid any regard. Before
taking his seat at the board, Egmont showed the duchess Alava's letter,
upbraiding her, at the same time, with her perfidious conduct towards
the nobles. Margaret, who seems to have given way to temper or to tears,
as the exigency demanded, broke forth into a rage, declaring it "an
impudent forgery, and the greatest piece of villany in the world!"[859]
The same sentiment she repeats in a letter addressed soon after to her
brother, in which she asserts her belief that no such letter as that
imputed to Alava had ever been written by him. How far the duchess was
honest in her declaration it is impossible at this day to determine.
Egmont, after passing to other matters, concludes with a remark which
shows, plainly enough, his own opinion of her sincerity. "In fine, she
is a woman educated in Rome. There is no faith to be given to her."[860]
In her communication above noticed Margaret took occasion to complain to
Philip of his carelessness in regard to her letters. The contents of
them, she said, were known in Flanders almost as soon as at Madrid; and
not only copies, but the original autographs, were circulating in
Brussels. She concludes by begging her brother, if he cannot keep her
letters safe, to burn them.[861]
The king, in answer, expresses his surprise at her complaints, assuring
Margaret that it is impossible any one can have seen her letters, which
are safely locked up, with the key in his own pocket.[862] It is amusing
to see Philip's incredulity in regard to the practice of those arts on
himself which he had so often practised on others. His sister, however,
seems to have relied henceforth more on her own precautions than on his,
as we find her communications from this time frequently shrouded in
cipher.
Rumors of Philip's warlike preparations were now rife in the
Netherlands; and the Protestants began to take counsel as to the best
means of providing for their own defence. One plan suggested was to send
thirty thousand Calvinistic tracts to Seville for distribution among the
Spaniards.[863] This would raise a good crop of heresy, and give the
king work to do in his own dominions. It would, in short, be carrying
the war into the enemy's country. The plan, it must be owned, had the
merit of novelty.
[Sidenote: WILLIAM'S RELIGIOUS OPINIONS.]
In Holland the nobles and merchants mutually bound themselves to stand
by one another in asserting the right of freedom of conscience.[864]
Levies went forward briskly in Germany, under the direction of Count
Louis of Nassau. It was attempted, moreover, to interest the Protestant
princes of that country so far in the fate of their brethren in the
Netherlands as to induce them to use their good offices with Philip to
dissuade him from violent measures. The emperor had already offered
privately his own mediation to the king, to bring about, if possible, a
better understanding with his Flemish subjects.[865] The offer made in
so friendly a spirit, though warmly commended by some of the council,
seems to have found no favor in the eyes of their master.[866]
The princes of Germany who had embraced the Reformation were Lutherans.
They had almost as little sympathy with the Calvinists as with the
Catholics. Men of liberal minds in the Netherlands, like William and his
brother, would gladly have seen the two great Protestant parties which
divided their country united on some common basis. They would have had
them, in short, in a true Christian spirit, seek out the points on which
they could agree rather than those on which they differed,--points of
difference which, in William's estimation, were after all of minor
importance. He was desirous that the Calvinists should adopt a
confession of faith accommodated in some degree to the "Confession of
Augsburg,"--a step which would greatly promote their interests with the
princes of Germany.[867]
But the Calvinists were altogether the dominant party in the Low
Countries. They were thoroughly organized, and held their consistories,
composed of a senate and a sort of lower house, in many of the great
towns, all subordinate to the great consistory at Antwerp. They formed,
in short, what the historian well calls an independent Protestant
republic.[868] Strong in their power, sturdy in their principles, they
refused to bend in any degree to circumstances, or to make any
concession, or any compromise with the weaker party. The German princes,
disgusted with this conduct, showed no disposition to take any active
measures in their behalf, and, although they made some efforts in favor
of the Lutherans, left their Calvinistic brethren in the Netherlands to
their fate.
It was generally understood, at this time, that the prince of Orange had
embraced Lutheran opinions. His wife's uncle, the landgrave of Hesse,
pressed him publicly to avow his belief. To this the prince objected,
that he should thus become the open enemy of the Catholics, and probably
lose his influence with the Calvinists, already too well disposed to
acts of violence.[869] Yet not long after we find William inquiring of
the landgrave if it would not be well to advise the king, in terms as
little offensive as possible, of his change of religion, asking the
royal permission at the same time, to conform his worship to it.[870]
William's father had been a Lutheran, and in that faith had lived and
died. In that faith he had educated his son. When only eleven years old,
the latter, as we have seen, was received into the imperial household.
The plastic mind of boyhood readily took its impressions from those
around, and without much difficulty, or indeed examination, William
conformed to the creed fashionable at the court of Castile. In this
faith--if so it should be called--the prince remained during the
lifetime of the emperor. Then came the troubles of the Netherlands; and
William's mind yielded to other influences. He saw the workings of
Catholicism under a terrible aspect. He beheld his countrymen dragged
from their firesides, driven into exile, thrown into dungeons, burned at
the stake; and all this for no other cause than dissent from the dogmas
of the Romish Church. His soul sickened at these enormities, and his
indignation kindled at this invasion of the inalienable right of private
judgment. Thus deeply interested for the oppressed Protestants, it was
natural that William should feel a sympathy for their cause. His wife
too was of the Lutheran persuasion. So was his mother, still surviving.
So were his brothers and sisters, and indeed all those nearest akin to
him. Under these influences, public and domestic, it was not strange,
that he should have been led to review the grounds of his own belief;
that he should have gradually turned to the faith of his parents,--the
faith in which he had been nurtured in childhood.[871] At what precise
period the change in his opinions took place we are not informed. But
his letter to the landgrave of Hesse, in November, 1566, affords, so far
as I am aware, the earliest evidence that exists, under his own hand,
that he had embraced the doctrines of the Reformation.