TRANQUILLITY RESTORED.
Oath imposed by Margaret.--Refused by Orange.--He leaves the
Netherlands.--Submission of the Country.--New Edict.--Order restored.
1567.
The perplexities in which the regent had been involved had led her to
conceive a plan, early in January, 1567, the idea of which may have been
suggested by the similar plan of Viglius. This was to require an oath
from the great nobles, the knights of the Golden Fleece, and those in
high stations, civil or military, that they would yield implicit and
unqualified obedience to the commands of the king, of whatever nature
they might be. Her object in this measure was not to secure a test of
loyalty. She knew full well who were the friends and who were the foes
of the government. But she wished a decent apology for ridding herself
of the latter; and it was made a condition, that those who refused to
take the oath were to be dismissed from office.
The measure seems to have met with no opposition when first started in
the council; where Mansfeldt, Arschot, Megen, Barlaimont, all signified
their readiness to sign the oath. Egmont indeed raised some scruples.
After the oath of allegiance he had once taken, a new one seemed
superfluous. The bare word of a man of honor and a chevalier of the
Toison ought to suffice.[886] But after a short correspondence on the
subject, his scruples vanished before the arguments or persuasions of
the regent.
Brederode, who held a military command, was not of so accommodating a
temper. He indignantly exclaimed, that it was a base trick of the
government, and he understood the drift of it. He refused to subscribe
the oath, and at once threw up his commission. The Counts Hoorne and
Hoogstraten declined also, but in more temperate terms, and resigning
their employments, withdrew to their estates in the country.
The person of most importance was the prince of Orange; and it was
necessary to approach him with the greatest caution. Margaret, it is
true, had long since withdrawn from him her confidence. But he had too
much consideration and authority in the country for her to wish to break
with him. Nor would she willingly give him cause of disgust. She
accordingly addressed him a note, couched in the most insinuating terms
she had at her command.
She could not doubt he would be ready to set a good example, when his
example would be so important in the perplexed condition of the country.
Rumors had been circulated to the prejudice of his loyalty. She did not
give them credit. She could not for a moment believe that he would so
far dishonor his great name and his illustrious descent as to deserve
such a reproach; and she had no doubt he would gladly avail himself of
the present occasion to wipe away all suspicion.[887]
The despatch inclosed a form of the oath, by which the party was to bind
himself to "serve the king, and act for or against whomever his majesty
might command, without restriction or limitation,"[888] on pain of being
dismissed from office.
William was not long in replying to a requisition, to obey which would
leave him less freedom than might be claimed by the meanest peasant in
the country. On the twenty-eighth of April, the same day on which he
received the letter, he wrote to the regent, declining in the most
positive terms to take the oath. Such an act, he said, would of itself
imply that he had already violated the oath he had previously taken. Nor
could he honorably take it, since it might bind him to do what would be
contrary to the dictates of his own conscience, as well as to what he
conceived to be the true interests of his majesty and the country.[889]
He was aware that such a demand on the regent's part was equivalent to a
dismissal from office. He begged her, therefore, to send some one fully
empowered to receive his commissions, since he was ready forthwith to
surrender them. As for himself, he should withdraw from the Netherlands,
and wait until his sovereign had time to become satisfied of his
fidelity. But wherever he might be, he should ever be ready to devote
both life and property to the service of the king and the common weal of
the country.[890]
Whatever hesitation the prince of Orange may have before felt as to the
course he was to take, it was clear the time had now come for decisive
action. Though the steady advocate of political reform, his policy, as
we have seen, had been to attempt this by constitutional methods, not by
violence. But all his more moderate plans had been overthrown by the
explosion of the iconoclasts. The outrages then perpetrated had both
alienated the Catholics and disgusted the more moderate portion of the
Protestants; while the divisions of the Protestants among themselves had
so far paralyzed their action, that the whole strength of the party of
reform had never been fairly exerted in the conflict. That conflict,
unprepared as the nation was for it, had been most disastrous.
Everywhere the arms of the regent had been victorious. It was evident
the hour for resistance had not yet come.
[Sidenote: OATH REFUSED BY ORANGE.]
Yet for William to remain in his present position was hazardous in the
extreme. Rumors had gone abroad that the duke of Alva would soon be in
the Netherlands, at the head of a force sufficient to put down all
opposition. "Beware of Alva," said his wife's kinsman, the landgrave of
Hesse, to William; "I know him well."[891] The prince of Orange also
knew him well,--too well to trust him. He knew the hard, inexorable
nature of the man who was now coming with an army at his back, and
clothed with the twofold authority of judge and executioner. The first
blow would, he knew, be aimed at the highest mark. To await Alva's
coming would be to provoke his fate. Yet the prince felt all the
dreariness of his situation. "I am alone," he wrote to the Landgrave
William of Hesse, "with dangers menacing me on all sides, yet without
one trusty friend to whom I can open my heart."[892]
Margaret seems to have been less prepared than might have been expected
for the decision of Orange. Yet she determined not to let him depart
from the country without an effort to retain him. She accordingly sent
her secretary, Berty, to the prince at Antwerp, to enter into the matter
more freely, and, if possible, prevail on him to review the grounds of
his decision. William freely, and at some length, stated his reasons for
declining the oath. "If I thus blindly surrender myself to the will of
the king, I may be driven to do what is most repugnant to my principles,
especially in the stern mode of dealing with the sectaries. I may be
compelled to denounce some of my own family, even my wife, as Lutherans,
and to deliver them into the hands of the executioner. Finally," said
he, "the king may send some one in his royal name to rule over us, to
whom it would be derogatory for me to submit." The name of "Alva"
escaped, as if involuntarily, from his lips,--and he was silent.[893]
Berty endeavored to answer the objections of the prince, but the latter,
interrupting him before he had touched on the duke of Alva, bluntly
declared that the king would never be content while one of his great
vassals was wedded to a heretic. It was his purpose, therefore, to leave
the country at once, and retire to Germany; and with this remark he
abruptly closed the conference.
The secretary, though mortified at his own failure, besought William to
consent to an interview, before his departure, with Count Egmont, who,
Berty trusted, might be more successful. To this William readily
assented. This celebrated meeting took place at Willbroek, a village
between Antwerp and Brussels. Besides the two lords there were only
present Count Mansfeldt and the secretary.
After some discussion, in which each of the friends endeavored to win
over the other to his own way of thinking, William expressed the hope
that Egmont would save himself in time from the bloody tempest that, he
predicted, was soon to fall on the heads of the Flemish nobles.[894] "I
trust in the clemency of my sovereign," answered the count; "he cannot
deal harshly with men who have restored order to the country." "This
clemency you so extol," replied William, "will be your ruin. Much I fear
that the Spaniards will make use of you as a bridge to effect their
entrance into the country!"[895] With this ominous prediction on his
lips, he tenderly embraced the count, with tears in his eyes, bidding
him a last farewell. And thus the two friends parted, like men who were
never to meet again.
The different courses pursued by the two nobles were such as might be
expected from the difference of both their characters and their
circumstances. Egmont, ardent, hopeful, and confiding, easily
surrendered himself to the illusions of his own fancy, as if events were
to shape themselves according to his wishes. He had not the far-seeing
eye of William, which seemed to penetrate into events as it did into
characters. Nor had Egmont learned, like William, not to put his trust
in princes. He was, doubtless, as sincerely attached to his country as
the prince of Orange, and abhorred, like him, the system of persecution
avowed by the government. But this persecution fell upon a party with
whom he had little sympathy. William, on the other hand, was a member of
that party. A blow aimed at them was aimed also at him. It is easy to
see how different were the stakes of the two nobles in the coming
contest, both in respect to their sympathies and their interests. Egmont
was by birth a Fleming. His estates were in Flanders, and there, too,
were his hopes of worldly fortune. Exile to him would have been beggary
and ruin. But a large, if not the larger part of William's property, lay
without the confines of the Netherlands. In withdrawing to Germany, he
went to his native land. His kindred were still there. With them he had
maintained a constant correspondence, and there he would be welcomed by
troops of friends. It was a home, and no place of exile, that William
was to find in Germany.
Shortly after this interview, the prince went to his estates at Breda,
there to remain a few days before quitting the country.[896] From Breda
he wrote to Egmont, expressing the hope that, when he had weighed them
in his mind, he would be contented with the reasons assigned for his
departure. The rest he would leave to God, who would order all for his
own glory. "Be sure," he added, "you have no friend more warmly devoted
to you than myself; for the love of you is too deeply rooted in my heart
to be weakened either by time or distance."[897] It is pleasing to see
that party spirit had not, as in the case of more vulgar souls, the
power to rend asunder the ties which had so long bound these great men
to each other; to see them still turning back, with looks of accustomed
kindness, when they were entering the paths that were to lead in such
opposite directions.
William wrote also to the king, acquainting him with what he had done,
and explaining the grounds of it; at the same time renewing the
declaration that, wherever he might be, he trusted never to be found
wanting to the obligations of a true and faithful vassal. Before leaving
Breda, the prince received a letter from the politic regent, more
amiable in its import than might have been expected. Perhaps it was not
wholly policy that made her unwilling to part with him in anger. She
expressed her readiness to do him any favor in her power. She had always
felt for him, she said, the same affection as for her own son, and
should ever continue to do so.[898]
[Sidenote: WILLIAM LEAVES THE NETHERLANDS.]
On the last of April, William departed for Germany. He took with him all
his household except his eldest son, the count of Buren, then a boy
thirteen years old, who was pursuing his studies at the university of
Louvain.[899] Perhaps William trusted to the immunities of Brabant, or
to the tender age of the youth, for his protection. If so, he grievously
miscalculated. The boy would serve as too important a hostage for his
father, and Philip caused him to be transferred to Madrid; where, under
the monarch's eye, he was educated in religious as well as in political
sentiments very little in harmony with those of the prince of Orange.
Fortunately, the younger brother, Maurice, who inherited the genius of
his father, and was to carry down his great name to another generation,
was allowed to receive his training under the paternal roof.[900]
Besides his family, William was accompanied by a host of friends and
followers, some of them persons of high consideration, who preferred
banishment with him to encountering the troubles that awaited them at
home. Thus attended, he fixed his residence at Dillemburg, in Nassau,
the seat of his ancestors, and the place of his own birth. He there
occupied himself with studying the Lutheran doctrine under an
experienced teacher of that persuasion;[901] and, while he kept a
watchful eye on the events passing in his unhappy country, he endeavored
to make himself acquainted with the principles of that glorious
Reformation, of which, in connection with political freedom, he was one
day to become the champion.
The departure of the prince of Orange caused general consternation in
the Netherlands. All who were in anyway compromised by the late
disturbances watched more anxiously than ever the signs of the coming
tempest, as they felt they had lost the pilot who alone could enable
them to weather it. Thousands prepared to imitate his example by
quitting the country before it was too late. Among those who fled were
the Counts Culemborg, Berg, Hoogstraten, Louis of Nassau, and others of
inferior note, who passed into Germany, where they gathered into a
little circle round the prince, waiting, like him, for happier days.
Some of the great lords, who had held out against the regent, now left
alone, intimated their willingness to comply with her demands. "Count
Hoorne," she writes to Philip, "has offered his services to me, and
declares his readiness to take the oath. If he has spoken too freely, he
says, it was not from any disaffection to the government, but from a
momentary feeling of pique and irritation. I would not drive him to
desperation, and from regard to his kindred I have consented that he
should take his seat in the council again."[902] The haughty tone of
the duchess shows that she felt herself now so strongly seated as to be
nearly indifferent whether the person she dealt with were friend or
foe.[903]
Egmont, at this time, was endeavoring to make amends for the past by
such extraordinary demonstrations of loyalty as should efface all
remembrance of it. He rode through the land at the head of his troops,
breaking up the consistories, arresting the rioters, and everywhere
reëstablishing the Catholic worship. He loudly declared that those who
would remain his friends must give unequivocal proofs of loyalty to the
crown and the Roman Catholic faith. Some of those with whom he had been
most intimate, disgusted with, this course, and distrusting, perhaps,
such a deposit for their correspondence, sent back the letters they had
received from him, and demanded their own in return.[904]
At Brussels Egmont entered into all the gayeties of the court,
displaying his usual magnificence in costly fêtes and banquets, which
the duchess of Parma sometimes honored with her presence. The count's
name appears among those which she mentions to Philip as of persons well
affected to the government. "It is impossible," she says, "not to be
satisfied with his conduct."[905] Thus elated by the favor of the
regent--next in importance to that of royalty itself--the ill-fated
nobleman cherished the fond hope that the past would now be completely
effaced from the memory of his master,--a master who might forget a
benefit, but who was never known to forgive an injury.
The great towns throughout the land had now generally intimated their
willingness to submit to the requisitions of Margaret, and many of them
had admitted garrisons within their walls. Antwerp only, of the cities
of Brabant, remained intractable. At length it yielded to the general
impulse, and a deputation was sent to the regent to sue for her
forgiveness, and to promise that the leaders in the late disturbances
should be banished from the city. This was a real triumph to the royal
party, considering the motley character of the population, in which
there was so large an infusion of Calvinism. But Margaret, far from
showing her satisfaction, coolly answered that they must first receive a
garrison; then she would intercede for them with the king, and would
herself consent to take up her residence in the city. In this the
inhabitants, now well humbled, affected willingly to acquiesce; and soon
after Count Mansfeldt, at the head of sixteen companies of foot, marched
into Antwerp in battle array, and there quartered his soldiers as in a
conquered capital.
[Sidenote: NEW EDICT.]
A day was fixed for the regent's entry, which was to be made with all
becoming pomp. Detachments of troops were stationed in the principal
avenues, and on the thirtieth of April Margaret rode into Antwerp,
escorted by twelve hundred Walloons, and accompanied by the knights of
the Golden Fleece, the great lords, and the provincial magistrates. As
the glittering procession passed through the files of the soldiery,
along the principal streets, it was greeted with the huzzas of the
fickle populace. Thus cheered on her way, the regent proceeded first to
the cathedral, where _Te Deum_ was chanted, and on her knees she
returned thanks to the Almighty, that this great city had been restored
without battle or bloodshed to the king and the true faith.[906] As her
eyes wandered over the desecrated altars and the walls despoiled of
their ornaments, their rich sculpture and paintings, by the rude hand of
violence, Margaret could not restrain her tears. Her first care was to
recover, as far as possible, the stolen property, and repair the
injuries to the building; the next, to punish the authors of these
atrocities; and the execution in the market-place of four of the
ringleaders proclaimed to the people of Antwerp that the reign of
anarchy was over.
Margaret next caused the churches of the reformed party to be levelled
with the ground. Those of the Romish faith, after being purified, and
the marks of violence, as far as practicable, effaced, were restored to
their ancient occupants. The Protestant schools were everywhere closed.
The children who had been baptized with Protestant rites were now
re-baptized after the Catholic.[907] In fine, the reformed worship was
interdicted throughout the city, and that of the Romish church, with its
splendid ritual, was established in its place.
On occupying Antwerp, Margaret had allowed all who were not implicated
in the late riots to leave the city with their effects. Great numbers
now availed themselves of this permission, and the streets presented the
melancholy spectacle of husbands parting from their wives, parents from
their children, or, it might be, taking their families along with them
to some kinder land, where they would be allowed to worship God
according to the dictates of their own consciences.
But even this glimmering of a tolerant spirit,--if so it can be
called,--which Margaret exhibited at the outset, soon faded away before
the dark spirit of the Inquisition. On the twenty-fourth of May, she
published an edict, written in the characters of blood which
distinguished the worst times of Charles and of Philip. By this edict,
all who had publicly preached, or who had performed the religions
exercises after the Protestant manner, all who had furnished the places
of meeting, or had harbored or aided the preachers, all printers of
heretical tracts, or artists who with their pencil had brought ridicule
on the Church of Rome,--all, in short, who were guilty of these or
similar iniquities, were to be punished with death and confiscation of
property. Lighter offences were to be dealt with according to the
measure of their guilt. The edict containing these humane provisions is
of considerable length, and goes into a large specification of offences,
from which few, if any, of the reformed could have been entirely
exempt.[908] When this ordinance of the regent was known at Madrid, it
caused great dissatisfaction. The king pronounced it "indecorous,
illegal, and altogether repugnant to the true spirit of
Christianity;"[909] and he ordered Margaret forthwith to revoke the
edict. It was accordingly repealed on the twenty-third of July
following. The reader who may be disposed to join heartily in the
malediction may not be prepared to learn that the cause of the royal
indignation was not that the edict was too severe, but that it was too
lenient! It nowhere denounced the right of private worship. A man might
still be a heretic at heart and at his own fireside, so long as he did
not obtrude it on the public. This did not suit the Inquisition, whose
jealous eye penetrated into the houses and the hearts of men, dragging
forth their secret thoughts into open day, and punishing these like
overt acts. Margaret had something yet to learn in the school of
persecution.[910]
While at Antwerp, the regent received an embassy from the elector of
Saxony, the landgrave of Hesse, and other Protestant princes of Germany,
interceding for the oppressed Lutherans, and praying that she would not
consent to their being so grievously vexed by the Catholic government.
Margaret, who was as little pleased with the plain terms in which this
remonstrance was conveyed as with the object of it, coldly replied, that
the late conduct of the Flemish Protestants doubtless entitled them to
all this sympathy from the German princes; but she advised the latter to
busy themselves with their own affairs, and leave the king of Spain to
manage his as he thought best.[911]
Of all the provinces, Holland was the only one which still made
resistance to the will of the regent. And here, as we have already seen,
was gathered a military array of some strength. The head-quarters were
at Brederode's town of Viana. But that chief had left his followers for
the present, and had been secretly introduced into Amsterdam, where, as
before noticed, he was busy in rousing a spirit of resistance in the
citizens, already well prepared for it by their Protestant preachers.
The magistrates, sorely annoyed, would gladly have rid themselves of
Brederode's presence, but he had too strong a hold on the people. Yet,
as hour after hour brought fresh tidings of the disasters of his party,
the chief himself became aware that all hopes of successful resistance
must be deferred to another day. Quitting the city by night, he
contrived, with the aid of his friends, to make his escape into Germany.
Some months he passed in Westphalia, occupied with raising forces for a
meditated invasion of the Netherlands, when, in the summer of 1568, he
was carried off by a fever, brought on, it is said, by his careless,
intemperate way of life.[912]
Brederode was a person of a free and fearless temper,--with the defects,
and the merits too, that attach to that sort of character. The
friendship with which he seems to have been regarded by some of the most
estimable persons of his party--Louis of Nassau, especially--speaks well
for his heart. The reckless audacity of the man is shown in his
correspondence; and the free manner in which he deals with persons and
events makes his letters no less interesting than important for the
light they throw on these troubled times. Yet it cannot be denied that,
after all, Brederode is indebted much more to the circumstances of his
situation than to his own character for the space he occupies in the
pages of history.[913]
[Sidenote: CRUEL REPRISALS.]
Thus left without a leader, the little army which Brederode had gathered
under his banner soon fell to pieces. Detachments, scattering over the
country, committed various depredations, plundering the religious houses
and engaging in encounters with the royal troops under Megen and
Aremberg, in which the insurgents fared the worst. Thus broken on all
sides, those who did not fall into the enemy's hands, or on the field,
were too glad to make their escape into Germany. One vessel, containing
a great number of fugitives, was wrecked, and all on board were made
prisoners. Among them were two brothers, of the name of Battenberg; they
were of a noble family, and prominent members of the league. They were
at once, with their principal followers, thrown into prison, to await
their doom from the bloody tribunal of Alva.
Deprived of all support from without, the city of Amsterdam offered no
further resistance, but threw open its gates to the regent, and
consented to accept her terms. These were the same that had been imposed
on all the other refractory towns. The immunities of the city were
declared to be forfeited, a garrison was marched into the place, and
preparations were made for building a fortress, to guard against future
commotions. Those who chose--with the customary exceptions--were allowed
to leave the city. Great numbers availed themselves of the permission.
The neighboring dikes were crowded with fugitives from the territory
around, as well as from the city, anxiously waiting for vessels to
transport them to Embden, the chief asylum of the exiles. There they
stood, men, women, and children, a melancholy throng, without food,
almost without raiment or any of the common necessaries of life,
exciting the commiseration of even their Catholic adversaries.[914]
The example of Amsterdam was speedily followed by Delft, Haarlem,
Rotterdam, Leyden, and the remaining towns of Holland, which now seemed
to vie with one another in demonstrations of loyalty to the government.
The triumph of the regent was complete. Her arms had been everywhere
successful, and her authority was fully recognized throughout the whole
extent of the Netherlands. Doubtful friends and open foes, Catholics and
Reformers, were alike prostrate at her feet.[915] With the hour of
triumph came also the hour of vengeance. And we can hardly doubt that
the remembrance of past humiliation gave a sharper edge to the sword of
justice. Fortresses, to overawe the inhabitants, were raised in the
principal towns;[916] and the expense of their construction, as well as
of maintaining their garrison, was defrayed by fines laid on the
refractory cities.[917] The regent's troops rode over the country, and
wherever the reformed were gathered to hear the word, they were charged
by the troopers, who trampled them under their horses' hoofs, shooting
them down without mercy, or dragging them off by scores to execution. No
town was so small that fifty at least did not perish in this way, while
the number of the victims sometimes rose to two or even three
hundred.[918] Everywhere along the road-side the traveller beheld the
ghastly spectacle of bodies swinging from gibbets, or met with troops of
miserable exiles flying from their native land.[919] Confiscation
followed, as usual, in the train of persecution. At Tournay, the
property of a hundred of the richest merchants was seized and
appropriated by the government. Even the populace, like those animals
who fall upon and devour one of their own number when wounded, now
joined in the cry against the Reformers. They worked with the same
alacrity as the soldiers in pulling down the Protestant churches; and
from the beams, in some instances, formed the very gallows from which
their unhappy victims were suspended.[920] Such is the picture, well
charged with horrors, left to us by Protestant writers. We may be quite
sure that it lost nothing of its darker coloring under their hands.
So strong was now the tide of emigration, that it threatened to
depopulate some of the fairest provinces of the country. The regent, who
at first rejoiced in this as the best means of ridding the land of its
enemies, became alarmed, as she saw it was drawing off so large a
portion of the industrious population. They fled to France, to Germany,
and very many to England, where the wise Elizabeth provided them with
homes, knowing well that, though poor, they brought with them a skill in
the mechanic arts which would do more than gold and silver for the
prosperity of her kingdom.
Margaret would have stayed this tide of emigration by promises of grace,
if not by a general amnesty for the past. But though she had power to
punish, Philip had not given her the power to pardon. And indeed
promises of grace would have availed little with men flying from the
dread presence of Alva.[921] It was the fear of him which gave wings to
their flight, as Margaret herself plainly intimated in a letter to the
duke, in which she deprecated his coming with an army, when nothing more
was needed than a vigilant police.[922]
[Sidenote: TRANQUILLITY RESTORED.]
In truth, Margaret was greatly disgusted by the intended mission of the
duke of Alva, of which she had been advised by the king some months
before. She knew well the imperious temper of the man, and that, however
high-sounding might be her own titles, the power would be lodged in his
hands. She felt this to be a poor requital for her past services,--a
personal indignity, no less than an injury to the state. She gave free
vent to her feelings on the subject in more than one letter to her
brother.
In a letter of the fifth of April she says: "You have shown no regard
for my wishes or my reputation. By your extraordinary restrictions on my
authority, you have prevented my settling the affairs of the country
entirely to my mind. Yet, seeing things in so good a state, you are
willing to give all the credit to another, and leave me only the fatigue
and danger.[923] But I am resolved, instead of wasting the remainder of
my days, as I have already done my health, in this way, to retire and
dedicate myself to a tranquil life in the service of God." In another
letter, dated four weeks later, on the third of May, after complaining
that the king withdraws his confidence more and more from her, she asks
leave to withdraw, as the country is restored to order, and the royal
authority more assured than in the time of Charles the Fifth.[924]
In this assurance respecting the public tranquillity, Margaret was no
doubt sincere; as are also the historians who have continued to take the
same view of the matter, down to the present time, and who consider the
troubles of the country to have been so far composed by the regent,
that, but for the coming of Alva, there would have been no revolution in
the Netherlands. Indeed, there might have seemed to be good ground for
such a conclusion. The revolt had been crushed. Resistance had
everywhere ceased. The authority of the regent was recognized throughout
the land. The league, which had raised so bold a front against the
government, had crumbled away. Its members had fallen in battle, or lay
waiting their sentence in dungeons, or were wandering as miserable
exiles in distant lands. The name of _Gueux_, and the insignia of the
bowl and the beggar's scrip, which they had assumed in derision, were
now theirs by right. It was too true for a jest.
The party of reform had disappeared, as if by magic. Its worship was
everywhere proscribed. On its ruins the Catholic religion had risen in
greater splendor than ever. Its temples were restored, its services
celebrated with more than customary pomp. The more austere and
uncompromising of the Reformers had fled the country. Those who remained
purchased impunity by a compulsory attendance on mass; or the wealthier
sort, by the aid of good cheer or more substantial largesses, bribed the
priest to silence.[925] At no time since the beginning of the
Reformation had the clergy been treated with greater deference, or
enjoyed a greater share of authority in the land. The dark hour of
revolution seemed, indeed, to have passed away.
Yet a Fleming of that day might well doubt whether the prince of Orange
were a man likely to resign his fair heritage and the land so dear to
his heart without striking one blow in their defence. One who knew the
wide spread of the principles of reform, and the sturdy character of the
reformer, might distrust the permanence of a quiet which had been
brought about by so much violence. He might rather think that, beneath
the soil he was treading, the elements were still at work, which, at no
distant time perhaps, would burst forth with redoubled violence, and
spread ruin over the land!
BOOK III.
CHAPTER I.
ALVA SENT TO THE NETHERLANDS.
Alva's Appointment.--His remarkable March.--He arrives at
Brussels.--Margaret disgusted.--Policy of the Duke.--Arrest of Egmont
and Hoorne.
1567.
While Margaret was thus successful in bringing the country to a state of
at least temporary tranquillity, measures were taken at the court of
Madrid for shifting the government of the Netherlands into other hands,
and for materially changing its policy.
We have seen how actively the rumors had been circulated, throughout the
last year, of Philip's intended visit to the country. These rumors had
received abundant warrant from his own letters, addressed to the regent
and to his ministers at the different European courts. Nor did the king
confine himself to professions. He applied to the French government to
allow a free passage for his army through its territories. He caused a
survey to be made of that part of Savoy through which his troops would
probably march, and a map of the proposed route to be prepared. He
ordered fresh levies from Germany to meet him on the Flemish frontier.
And finally, he talked of calling the cortes together, to provide for
the regency during his absence.
Yet whoever else might be imposed on, there was one potentate in Europe
whose clear vision was not to be blinded by the professions of Philip,
nor by all this bustle of preparation. This was the old pontiff, Pius
the Fifth, who had always distrusted the king's sincerity. Pius had
beheld with keen anguish the spread of heresy in the Low Countries. Like
a true son of the Inquisition as he was, he would gladly have seen its
fires kindled in every city of this apostate land. He had observed with
vexation the apathy manifested by Philip. And he at length resolved to
despatch a special embassy to Spain, to stimulate the monarch, if
possible, to more decided action.
The person employed was the bishop of Ascoli, and the good father
delivered his rebuke in such blunt terms as caused a sensation at the
court of Madrid. In a letter to his ambassador at Rome, Philip
complained that the pope should have thus held him up to Christendom as
one slack in the performance of his duty. The envoy had delivered
himself in so strange a manner, Philip added, that, but for the respect
and love he bore his holiness, he might have been led to take precisely
the opposite course to the one he intended.[926]
[Sidenote: HIS APPOINTMENT.]
Yet notwithstanding this show of indignation, had it not been for the
outbreak of the iconoclasts, it is not improbable that the king might
still have continued to procrastinate, relying on his favorite maxim,
that "Time and himself were a match for any other two."[927] But the
event which caused such a sensation throughout Christendom roused every
feeling of indignation in the royal bosom,--and this from the insult
offered to the crown as well as to the Church. Contrary to his wont, the
king expressed himself with so much warmth on the subject, and so
openly, that the most sceptical began at last to believe that the long
talked of visit was at hand. The only doubt was as to the manner in
which it should be made; whether the king should march at the head of an
army, or attended only by so much of a retinue as was demanded by his
royal state.
The question was warmly discussed in the council. Ruy Gomez, the courtly
favorite of Philip, was for the latter alternative. A civil war he
deprecated, as bringing ruin even to the victor.[928] Clemency was the
best attribute of a sovereign, and the people of Flanders were a
generous race, more likely to be overcome by kindness than by arms.[929]
In these liberal and humane views the prince of Eboli was supported by
the politic secretary, Antonio Perez, and by the duke of Feria, formerly
ambassador to London, a man who to polished manners united a most
insinuating eloquence.
But very different opinions, as might be expected, were advanced by the
duke of Alva. The system of indulgence, he said, had been that followed
by the regent, and its fruits were visible. The weeds of heresy were not
to be extirpated by a gentle hand; and his majesty should deal with his
rebellious vassals as Charles the Fifth had dealt with their rebel
fathers at Ghent.[930] These stern views received support from the
Cardinal Espinosa, who held the office of president of the council, as
well as of grand inquisitor, and who doubtless thought the insult
offered to the Inquisition not the least of the offences to be charged
on the Reformers.
Each of the great leaders recommended the measures most congenial with
his own character, and which, had they been adopted, would probably
have required his own services to carry them into execution. Had the
pacific course been taken, Feria, or more probably Ruy Gomez, would have
been intrusted with the direction of affairs. Indeed, Montigny and
Bergen, still detained in reluctant captivity at Madrid, strongly urged
the king to send the prince of Eboli, as a man, who, by his popular
manners and known discretion, would be most likely to reconcile opposite
factions.[931] Were violent measures, on the other hand, to be adopted,
to whom could they be so well intrusted as to the duke himself, the most
experienced captain of his time?
The king, it is said, contrary to his custom, was present at the meeting
of the council, and listened to the debate. He did not intimate his
opinion. But it might be conjectured to which side he was most likely to
lean, from his habitual preference for coercive measures.[932]
Philip came to a decision sooner than usual. In a few days he summoned
the duke, and told him that he had resolved to send him forthwith, at
the head of an army, to the Netherlands. It was only, however, to
prepare the way for his own coming, which would take place as soon as
the country was in a state sufficiently settled to receive him.
All was now alive with the business of preparation in Castile. Levies
were raised throughout the country. Such was the zeal displayed, that
even the Inquisition and the clergy advanced a considerable sum towards
defraying the expenses of an expedition which they seemed to regard in
the light of a crusade.[933] Magazines of provisions were ordered to be
established at regular stations on the proposed line of march. Orders
were sent, that the old Spanish garrisons in Lombardy, Naples, Sicily,
and Sardinia, should be transported to the place of rendezvous in
Piedmont, to await the coming of the duke, who would supply their places
with the fresh recruits brought with him from Castile.
Philip meanwhile constantly proclaimed that Alva's departure was only
the herald of his own. He wrote this to Margaret, assuring her of his
purpose to go by water, and directing her to have a squadron of eight
vessels in readiness to convoy him to Zealand, where he proposed to
land. The vessels were accordingly equipped. Processions were made, and
prayers put up in all the churches, for the prosperous passage of the
king. Yet there were some in the Netherlands who remarked that prayers
to avert the dangers of the sea were hardly needed by the monarch in his
palace at Madrid![934] Many of those about the royal person soon
indulged in the same scepticism in regard to the king's sincerity, as
week after week passed away, and no arrangements were made for his
departure. Among the contradictory rumors at court in respect to the
king's intention, the pope's nuncio wrote, it was impossible to get at
the truth.[935] It was easy to comprehend the general policy of Philip,
but impossible to divine the particular plans by which, it was to be
carried out. If such was the veil which hid the monarch's purposes even
from the eyes of those who had nearest access to his person, how can we
hope at this distance of time to penetrate it? Yet the historian of the
nineteenth century is admitted to the perusal of many an authentic
document revealing the royal purpose, which never came under the eye of
the courtier of Madrid.
[Sidenote: HIS APPOINTMENT.]
With all the light thus afforded, it is still difficult to say whether
Philip ever was sincere in his professions of visiting the Netherlands.
If he were so at any time, it certainly was not after he had decided on
the mission of Alva. Philip widely differed from his father in a
sluggishness of body which made any undertaking that required physical
effort exceedingly irksome. He shrunk from no amount of sedentary labor,
would toil from morning till midnight in his closet, like the humblest
of his secretaries. But a journey was a great undertaking. After his
visits, during his father's lifetime, to England and the Low Countries,
he rarely travelled farther, as his graceless son satirically hinted,
than from Madrid to Aranjuez, or Madrid to the Escorial. A thing so
formidable as an expedition to Flanders, involving a tedious journey
through an unfriendly land, or a voyage through seas not less
unfriendly, was what, under ordinary circumstances, the king would have
never dreamed of.
The present aspect of affairs, moreover, had nothing in it particularly
inviting,--especially to a prince of Philip's temper. Never was there a
prince more jealous of his authority; and the indignities to which he
might have been exposed, in the disorderly condition of the country,
might well have come to the aid of his constitutional sluggishness to
deter him from the visit.
Under these circumstances, it is not strange that Philip, if he had ever
entertained a vague project of a journey to the Netherlands, should have
yielded to his natural habit of procrastination. The difficulties of a
winter's voyage, the necessity of summoning the cortes and settling the
affairs of the kingdom, his own protracted illness, furnished so many
apologies for postponing the irksome visit, until the time had passed
when such a visit could be effectual.
That he should so strenuously have asserted his purpose of going to the
Netherlands may be explained by a desire in some sort to save his credit
with those who seemed to think that the present exigency demanded he
should go. He may have also thought it politic to keep up the idea of a
visit to the Low Countries, in order to curb--as it no doubt had the
effect in some degree of curbing--the licence of the people, who
believed they were soon to be called to a reckoning for their misdeeds
by their prince in person. After all, the conduct of Philip on this
occasion, and the motives assigned for his delay in his letters to
Margaret, must be allowed to afford a curious coincidence with those
ascribed, in circumstances not dissimilar, by the Roman historian to
Tiberius.[936]
On the fifteenth of April, 1567, Alva had his last audience of Philip at
Aranjuez. He immediately after departed for Carthagena, where a fleet of
thirty-six vessels, under the Genoese Admiral Doria, lay riding at
anchor to receive him. He was detained some time for the arrival of the
troops, and while there he received despatches from court containing his
commission of captain-general, and particular instructions as to the
course he was to pursue in the Netherlands. They were so particular,
that, notwithstanding the broad extent of his powers, the duke wrote to
his master complaining of his want of confidence, and declaring that he
had never been hampered by instructions so minute, even under the
emperor.[937] One who has studied the character of Philip will find no
difficulty in believing it.
On the twenty-seventh of April, the fleet weighed anchor; but in
consequence of a detention of some days at several places on the Catalan
coast, it did not reach the Genoese port of Savona till the seventeenth
of the next month. The duke had been ill when he went on board; and his
gouty constitution received no benefit from the voyage. Yet he did not
decline the hospitalities offered by the Genoese nobles, who vied with
the senate in showing the Spanish commander every testimony of respect.
At Asti he was waited on by Albuquerque, the Milanese viceroy, and by
ambassadors from different Italian provinces, eager to pay homage to the
military representative of the Spanish monarch. But the gout under which
Alva labored was now aggravated by an attack of tertian ague, and for a
week or more he was confined to his bed.
Meanwhile the troops had assembled at the appointed rendezvous; and the
duke, as soon as he had got the better of his disorder, made haste to
review them. They amounted in all to about ten thousand men, of whom
less than thirteen hundred were cavalry. But though small in amount, it
was a picked body of troops, such as was hardly to be matched in Europe.
The infantry, in particular, were mostly Spaniards,--veterans who had
been accustomed to victory under the banner of Charles the Fifth, and
many of them trained to war under the eye of Alva himself. He preferred
such a body, compact and well disciplined as it was, to one which,
unwieldy from its size, would have been less fitted for a rapid march
across the mountains.[938]
[Sidenote: HIS REMARKABLE MARCH.]
Besides those of the common file, there were many gentlemen and
cavaliers of note, who, weary of repose, came as volunteers to gather
fresh laurels under so renowned a chief as the duke of Alva. Among these
was Vitelli, marquis of Cetona, a Florentine soldier of high repute in
his profession, but who, though now embarked in what might be called a
war of religion, was held so indifferent to religion of any kind, that a
whimsical epitaph on the sceptic denies him the possession of a
soul.[939] Another of these volunteers was Mondragone, a veteran of
Charles the Fifth, whose character for chivalrous exploit was unstained
by those deeds of cruelty and rapine which were so often the reproach of
the cavalier of the sixteenth century. The duties of the commissariat,
particularly difficult in a campaign like the present, were intrusted to
an experienced Spanish officer named Ibarra. To the duke of Savoy Alva
was indebted for an eminent engineer named Paciotti, whose services
proved of great importance in the construction of fortresses in the
Netherlands. Alva had also brought with him his two sons, Frederic and
Ferdinand de Toledo,--the latter an illegitimate child, for whom the
father showed as much affection as it was in his rugged nature to feel
for any one. To Ferdinand was given the command of the cavalry, composed
chiefly of Italians.[940]
Having reviewed his forces, the duke formed them into three divisions.
This he did in order to provide the more easily for their subsistence on
his long and toilsome journey. The divisions were to be separated from
one another by a day's march; so that each would take up at night the
same quarters which had been occupied by the preceding division on the
night before. Alva himself led the van.[941]
He dispensed with artillery, not willing to embarrass his movements in
his passage across the mountains. But he employed what was then a
novelty in war. Each company of foot was flanked by a body of soldiers,
carrying heavy muskets with rests attached to them. This sort of
fire-arms, from their cumbrous nature, had hitherto been used only in
the defence of fortresses. But with these portable rests, they were
found efficient for field service, and as such came into general use
after this period.[942] Their introduction by Alva may be regarded,
therefore, as an event of some importance in the history of military
art.
The route that Alva proposed to take was that over Mount Cenis, the
same, according to tradition, by which Hannibal crossed the great
barrier some eighteen centuries before.[943] If less formidable than in
the days of the Carthaginian, it was far from being the practicable
route so easily traversed, whether by trooper or tourist, at the present
day. Steep rocky heights, shaggy with forests, where the snows of winter
still lingered in the midst of June; fathomless ravines, choked up with
the _débris_ washed down by the mountain torrent; paths scarcely worn by
the hunter and his game, affording a precarious footing on the edge of
giddy precipices; long and intricate defiles, where a handful of men
might hold an army at bay, and from the surrounding heights roll down
ruin on their heads;--these were the obstacles which Alva and his
followers had to encounter, as they threaded their toilsome way through
a country where the natives bore no friendly disposition to the
Spaniards.
Their route lay at no great distance from Geneva, that stronghold of the
Reformers; and Pius the Fifth would have persuaded the duke to turn from
his course, and exterminate this "nest of devils and
apostates,"[944]--as the Christian father was pleased to term them. The
people of Geneva, greatly alarmed at the prospect of an invasion,
applied to their Huguenot brethren for aid. The prince of Condé and the
Admiral Coligni--the leaders of that party--offered their services to
the French monarch to raise fifty thousand men, fall upon his old
enemies, the Spaniards, and cut them off in the passes of the mountains.
But Charles the Ninth readily understood the drift of this proposal.
Though he bore little love to the Spaniards, he bore still less to the
Reformers. He therefore declined this offer of the Huguenot chiefs,
adding that he was able to protect France without their assistance.[945]
The Genevans were accordingly obliged to stand to their own defence,
though they gathered confidence from the promised support of their
countrymen of Berne; and the whole array of these brave mountaineers was
in arms, ready to repel any assault of the Spaniards on their own
territory or on that of their allies, in their passage through the
country. But this was unnecessary. Though Alva passed within six leagues
of Geneva, and the request of the pontiff was warmly seconded by the
duke of Savoy, the Spanish general did not deem it prudent to comply
with it, declaring that his commission extended no further than to the
Netherlands. Without turning to the right or to the left he held on,
therefore, straight towards the mark, anxious only to extricate himself
as speedily as possible from the perilous passes where he might be taken
at so obvious disadvantage by an enemy.
Yet such were the difficulties he had to encounter, that a fortnight
elapsed before he was able to set foot on the friendly plains of
Burgundy,--that part of the ancient duchy which acknowledged the
authority of Spain. Here he received the welcome addition to his ranks
of four hundred horse, the flower of the Burgundian chivalry. On his way
across the country he was accompanied by a French army of observation,
some six thousand strong, which moved in a parallel direction, at the
distance of six or seven leagues only from the line of march pursued by
the Spaniards,--though without offering them any molestation.
[Sidenote: HE ARRIVES AT BRUSSELS.]
Soon after entering Lorraine, Alva was met by the duke of that province,
who seemed desirous to show him every respect, and entertained him with
princely hospitality. After a brief detention, the Spanish general
resumed his journey, and on the 8th of August crossed the frontiers of
the Netherlands.[946]
His long and toilsome march had been accomplished without an untoward
accident, and with scarcely a disorderly act on the part of the
soldiers. No man's property had been plundered. No peasant's hut had
been violated. The cattle had been allowed to graze unmolested in the
fields, and the flocks to wander in safety over their mountain pastures.
One instance only to the contrary is mentioned,--that of three troopers,
who carried off one or two straggling sheep as the army was passing
through Lorraine. But they were soon called to a heavy reckoning for
their transgression. Alva, on being informed of the fact, sentenced them
all to the gallows. At the intercession of the duke of Lorraine, the
sentence was so far mitigated by the Spanish commander, that one only of
the three, selected by lot, was finally executed.[947]
The admirable discipline maintained among Alva's soldiers was the more
conspicuous in an age when the name of soldier was synonymous with that
of marauder. It mattered little whether it were a friendly country or
that of a foe through which lay the line of march. The defenceless
peasant was everywhere the prey of the warrior; and the general winked
at the outrages of his followers, as the best means of settling their
arrears.
What made the subordination of the troops, in the present instance,
still more worthy of notice, was the great number of camp followers,
especially courtesans, who hung on the skirts of the army. These latter
mustered in such force, that they were divided into battalions and
companies, marching each under its own banner, and subjected to a sort
of military organization, like the men.[948] The duke seems to have been
as careless of the morals of his soldiers as he was careful of their
discipline; perhaps willing by his laxity in the one to compensate for
his severity in the other.
It was of the last importance to Alva that his soldiers should commit no
trespass, nor entangle him in a quarrel with the dangerous people
through the midst of whom he was to pass; and who, from their superior
knowledge of the country, as well as their numbers, could so easily
overpower him. Fortunately, he had received such intimations before his
departure as put him on his guard. The result was, that he obtained such
a mastery over his followers, and enforced so perfect a discipline, as
excited the general admiration of his contemporaries, and made his march
to the Low Countries one of the most memorable events of the
period.[949]
At Thionville the duke was waited on by Barlaimont and Noircarmes, who
came to offer the salutations of the regent, and at the same time to
request to see his powers. At the same place, and on the way to the
capital, the duke was met by several of the Flemish nobility, who came
to pay their respects to him; among the rest, Egmont, attended by forty
of his retainers. On his entering Alva's presence, the duke exclaimed to
one of his officers, "Here comes a great heretic!" The words were
overheard by Egmont, who hesitated a moment, naturally disconcerted by
what would have served as an effectual warning to any other man. But
Alva made haste to efface the impression caused by his heedless
exclamation, receiving Egmont with so much cordiality as reassured the
infatuated nobleman, who, regarding the words as a jest, before his
departure presented the duke with two beautiful horses.--Such is the
rather singular story which comes down to us on what must be admitted to
be respectable authority.[950]
Soon after he had entered the country, the duke detached the greater
part of his forces to garrison some of the principal cities, and relieve
the Walloon troops on duty there, less to be trusted than his Spanish
veterans. With the Milanese brigade he took the road to Brussels, which
he entered on the twenty-second of August. His cavalry he established at
ten leagues' distance from the capital, and the infantry he lodged in
the suburbs. Far from being greeted by acclamations, no one came out to
welcome him as he entered the city, which seemed like a place deserted.
He went straight to the palace, to offer his homage to the regent. An
altercation took place on the threshold between his halberdiers and
Margaret's body-guard of archers, who disputed the entrance of the
Spanish soldiers. The duke himself was conducted to the bed-chamber of
the duchess, where she was in the habit of giving audience. She was
standing, with a few Flemish nobles by her side; and she remained in
that position, without stirring a single step to receive her visitor.
Both parties continued standing during the interview, which lasted half
an hour; the duke during the greater part of the time with his hat in
his hand, although Margaret requested him to be covered. The curious
spectators of this conference amused themselves by contrasting the
courteous and even deferential manners of the haughty Spaniard with the
chilling reserve and stately demeanor of the duchess.[951] At the close
of the interview Alva withdrew to his own quarters at Culemborg
House,--the place, it will be remembered, where the Gueux held their
memorable banquet on their visit to Brussels.
[Sidenote: MARGARET DISGUSTED.]
The following morning, at the request of the council of state, the duke
of Alva furnished that body with a copy of his commission. By this he
was invested with the title of captain-general, and in that capacity was
to exercise supreme control in all military affairs.[952] By another
commission, dated two months later, these powers were greatly enlarged.
The country was declared in a state of rebellion; and, as milder means
had failed to bring it to obedience, it was necessary to resort to arms.
The duke was therefore commanded to levy war on the refractory people,
and reduce them to submission. He was moreover to inquire into the
causes of the recent troubles, and bring the suspected parties to trial,
with full authority to punish or to pardon as he might judge best for
the public weal.[953] Finally, a third commission, of more startling
import than the two preceding, and which, indeed, might seem to
supersede them altogether, was dated on the first of March, 1567. In the
former instruments the duke was so far required to act in subordination
to the regent, that her authority was declared to be unimpaired. But by
virtue of this last commission he was invested with supreme control in
civil as well as military affairs; and persons of every degree,
including the regent herself, were enjoined to render obedience to his
commands, as to those of the king.[954] Such a commission, which placed
the government of the country in the hands of Alva, was equivalent to a
dismissal of Margaret. The title of "regent," which still remained to
her, was an empty mockery; nor could it be thought that she would be
content to retain a barren sceptre in the country over which she had so
long ruled.
It is curious to observe the successive steps by which Philip had raised
Alva from the rank of captain-general of the army to supreme authority
in the country. It would seem as if the king were too tenacious of power
readily to part with it; and that it was only by successive efforts, as
the conviction of the necessity of such a step pressed more and more on
his mind, that he determined to lodge the government in the hands of
Alva.
Whether the duke acquainted the council with the full extent of his
powers, or, as seems more probable, communicated to that body only his
first two commissions, it is impossible to say. At all events, the
members do not appear to have been prepared for the exhibition of powers
so extensive, and which, even in the second of the commissions,
transcended those exercised by the regent herself. A consciousness that
they did so had led Philip, in more than one instance, to qualify the
language of the instrument, in such a manner as not to rouse the
jealousy of his sister,--an artifice so obvious, that it probably
produced a contrary effect. At any rate, Margaret did not affect to
conceal her disgust, but talked openly of the affront put on her by the
king, and avowed her determination to throw up the government.[955]
She gave little attention to business, passing most of her days in
hunting, of which masculine sport she was excessively fond. She even
threatened to amuse herself with journeying about from place to place,
leaving public affairs to take care of themselves, till she should
receive the king's permission to retire.[956] From this indulgence of
her spleen she was dissuaded by her secretary, Armenteros, who, shifting
his sails to suit the breeze, showed, soon after Alva's coming, his
intention to propitiate the new governor. There were others of
Margaret's adherents less accommodating. Some high in office intimated
very plainly their discontent at the presence of the Spaniards, from
which they boded only calamity to the country.[957] Margaret's
confessor, in a sermon preached before the regent, did not scruple to
denounce the Spaniards as so many "knaves, traitors, and
ravishers."[958] And although the remonstrance of the loyal Armenteros
induced the duchess to send back the honest man to his convent, it was
plain, from the warm terms in which she commended the preacher, that she
was far from being displeased with his discourse.
The duke of Alva cared little for the hatred of the Flemish lords.[959]
But he felt otherwise towards the regent. He would willingly have
soothed her irritation; and he bent his haughty spirit to show, in spite
of her coldness, a deference in his manner that must have done some
violence to his nature. As a mark of respect, he proposed at once to pay
her another visit, and in great state, as suited her rank. But Margaret,
feigning or feeling herself too ill to receive him, declined his visit
for some days, and at last, perhaps to mortify him the more, vouchsafed
him only a private audience in her own apartment.
Yet at this interview she showed more condescension than before, and
even went so far as to assure the duke that there was no one whose
appointment would have been more acceptable to her.[960] She followed
this, by bluntly demanding why he had been sent at all. Alva replied,
that, as she had often intimated her desire for a more efficient
military force, he had come to aid her in the execution of her measures,
and to restore peace to the country before the arrival of his
majesty.[961]--The answer could hardly have pleased the duchess, who
doubtless considered she had done that without his aid, already.
[Sidenote: MARGARET DISGUSTED.]
The discourse fell upon the mode of quartering the troops. Alva proposed
to introduce a Spanish garrison into Brussels. To this Margaret objected
with great energy. But the duke on this point was inflexible. Brussels
was the royal residence, and the quiet of the city could only be secured
by a garrison. "If people murmur," he concluded, "you can tell them I am
a headstrong man, bent on having my own way. I am willing to take all
the odium of the measure on myself."[962] Thus thwarted, and made to
feel her inferiority when any question of real power was involved,
Margaret felt the humiliation of her position even more keenly than
before. The appointment of Alva had been from the first, as we have
seen, a source of mortification to the duchess. In December, 1566, soon
after Philip had decided on sending the duke, with the authority of
captain-general, to the Low Countries, he announced it in a letter to
Margaret. He had been as much perplexed, he said, in the choice of a
commander, as she could have been; and it was only at her suggestion of
the necessity of some one to take the military command, that he had made
such a nomination. Alva was, however, only to prepare the way for him,
to assemble a force on the frontier, establish the garrisons, and
enforce discipline among the troops till he came.[963] Philip was
careful not to alarm his sister by any hint of the extraordinary powers
to be conferred on the duke, who thus seemed to be sent only in
obedience to her suggestion, and in subordination to her
authority.--Margaret knew too well that Alva was not a man to act in
subordination to any one. But whatever misgivings she may have had, she
hardly betrayed them in her reply to Philip, in the following February,
1567, when she told the king she "was sure he would never be so unjust,
and do a thing so prejudicial to the interests of the country, as to
transfer to another the powers he had vested in her."[964]
The appointment of Alva may have stimulated the regent to the
extraordinary efforts she then made to reduce the country to order. When
she had achieved this, she opened her mind more freely to her brother,
in a letter dated July 12, 1567. "The name of Alva was so odious in the
Netherlands that it was enough to make the whole Spanish nation
detested.[965] She could never have imagined that the king would make
such an appointment without consulting her." She then, alluding to
orders lately received from Madrid, shows extreme repugnance to carry
out the stern policy of Philip;[966]--a repugnance, it must be
confessed, that seems to rest less on the character of the measures than
on the difficulty of their execution.
When the duchess learned that Alva was in Italy, she wrote also to him,
hoping at this late hour to arrest his progress by the assurance that
the troubles were now at an end, and that his appearance at the head of
an army would only serve to renew them. But the duke was preparing for
his march across the Alps, and it would have been as easy to stop the
avalanche in its descent, as to stay the onward course of this "man of
destiny."
The state of Margaret's feelings was shown by the chilling reception she
gave the duke on his arrival in Brussels. The extent of his powers, so
much beyond what she had imagined, did not tend to soothe the irritation
of the regent's temper; and the result of the subsequent interview
filled up the measure of her indignation. However forms might be
respected, it was clear the power had passed into other hands. She wrote
at once to Philip, requesting, or rather requiring, his leave to
withdraw without delay from the country. "If he had really felt the
concern he professed for her welfare and reputation, he would have
allowed her to quit the government before being brought into rivalry
with a man like the duke of Alva, who took his own course in everything,
without the least regard to her. It afflicted her to the bottom of her
soul to have been thus treated by the king."[967]
It may have given some satisfaction to Margaret, that in her feelings
towards the duke she had the entire sympathy of the nation. In earlier
days, in the time of Charles the Fifth, Alva had passed some time both
in Germany and in the Netherlands, and had left there no favorable
impression of his character. In the former country, indeed, his haughty
deportment on a question of etiquette had caused some embarrassment to
his master. Alva insisted on the strange privilege of the Castilian
grandee to wear his hat in the presence of his sovereign. The German
nobles, scandalized by this pretension in a subject, asserted that their
order had as good a right to it as the Spaniards. It was not without
difficulty that the proud duke was content to waive the contested
privilege till his return to Spain.[968]
Another anecdote of Alva had left a still more unfavorable impression of
his character. He had accompanied Charles on his memorable visit to
Ghent, on occasion of its rebellion. The emperor asked the duke's
counsel as to the manner in which he should deal with his refractory
capital. Alva instantly answered, "Raze it to the ground!" Charles,
without replying, took the duke with him to the battlements of the
castle; and as their eyes wandered over the beautiful city spread out
far and wide below, the emperor asked him, with a pun on the French name
of Ghent (_Gand_), how many Spanish hides it would take to make such a
_glove_ (_gant_). Alva, who saw his master's displeasure, received the
rebuke in silence. The story, whether true or not, was current among the
people of Flanders, on whom it produced its effect.[969]
Alva was now sixty years old. It was not likely that age had softened
the asperity of his nature. He had, as might be expected, ever shown
himself the uncompromising enemy of the party of reform in the Low
Countries. He had opposed the concession made to the nation by the
recall of Granvelle. The only concessions he recommended to Philip were
in order to lull the suspicions of the great lords, till he could bring
them to a bloody reckoning for their misdeeds.[970] The general drift of
his policy was perfectly understood in the Netherlands, and the duchess
had not exaggerated when she dwelt on the detestation in which he was
held by the people.
His course on his arrival was not such as to diminish the fears of the
nation. His first act was to substitute in the great towns his own
troops, men who knew no law but the will of their chief, for the Walloon
garrisons, who might naturally have some sympathy with their countrymen.
His next was to construct some fortresses, under the direction of one of
the ablest engineers in Europe. The hour had come when, in the language
of the prince of Orange, his countrymen were to be bridled by the
Spaniard.
[Sidenote: POLICY OF THE DUKE.]
The conduct of Alva's soldiers underwent an ominous change. Instead of
the discipline observed on the march, they now indulged in the most
reckless licence. "One hears everywhere," writes a Fleming of the time,
"of the oppressions of the Spaniards. Confiscation is going on to the
right and left. If a man has anything to lose, they set him down at
once as a heretic."[971] If the writer may be thought to have borrowed
something from his fears,[972] it cannot be doubted that the panic was
general in the country. Men emigrated by thousands and tens of
thousands, carrying with them to other lands the arts and manufactures
which had so long been the boast and the source of prosperity of the
Netherlands.[973] Those who remained were filled with a dismal
apprehension,--a boding of coming evil, as they beheld the heavens
darkening around them, and the signs of the tempest at hand.
A still deeper gloom lay upon Brussels, once the gayest city in the
Netherlands,--now the residence of Alva. All business was suspended.
Places of public resort were unfrequented. The streets were silent and
deserted. Several of the nobles and wealthier citizens had gone to their
estates in the country, to watch there the aspect of events.[974] Most
of the courtiers who remained--the gilded insects that loved the
sunshine--had left the regent's palace, and gone to pay their homage to
her rival at Culemborg House. There everything went merrily as in the
gayest time of Brussels. For the duke strove, by brilliant
entertainments and festivities, to amuse the nobles and dissipate the
gloom of the capital.[975]
In all this Alva had a deeper motive than met the public eye. He was
carrying out the policy which he had recommended to Philip. By courteous
and conciliatory manners he hoped to draw around him the great nobles,
especially such as had been at all mixed up with the late revolutionary
movements. Of these, Egmont was still at Brussels; but Hoorne had
withdrawn to his estates at Weert.[976] Hoogstraten was in Germany with
the prince of Orange. As to the latter, Alva, as he wrote to the king,
could not flatter himself with the hope of his return.[977]
The duke and his son Ferdinand both wrote to Count Hoorne in the most
friendly terms, inviting him to come to Brussels.[978] But this
distrustful nobleman still kept aloof. Alva, in a conversation with the
count's secretary, expressed the warmest solicitude for the health of
his master. He had always been his friend, he said, and had seen with
infinite regret that the count's services were no better appreciated by
the king.[979] But Philip was a good prince, and if slow to recompense,
the count would find him not ungrateful. Could the duke but see the
count, he had that to say which would content him. He would find he was
not forgotten by his friends.[980] This last assurance had a terrible
significance. Hoorne yielded at length to an invitation couched in terms
so flattering. With Hoogstraten, Alva was not so fortunate. His good
genius, or the counsel of Orange, saved him from the snare, and kept him
in Germany.[981]
Having nothing further to gain by delay, Alva determined to proceed at
once to the execution of his scheme. On the ninth of September the
council of state was summoned to meet at Culemborg House. Egmont and
Hoorne were present; and two or three of the officers, among them
Paciotti, the engineer, were invited to discuss a plan of fortification
for some of the Flemish cities. In the mean time, strong guards had been
posted at all the avenues of the house, and cavalry drawn together from
the country and established in the suburbs.
The duke prolonged the meeting until information was privately
communicated to him of the arrest of Backerzele, Egmont's secretary, and
Van Stralen, the burgomaster of Antwerp. The former was a person of
great political sagacity, and deep in the confidence of Egmont; the
latter, the friend of Orange, with whom he was still in constant
correspondence. The arrest of Backerzele, who resided in Brussels, was
made without difficulty, and possession was taken of his papers. Van
Stralen was surrounded by a body of horse, as he was driving out of
Antwerp in his carriage; and both of the unfortunate gentlemen were
brought prisoners to Culemborg House.
[Sidenote: ARREST OF EGMONT AND HOORNE.]
As soon as these tidings were conveyed to Alva, he broke up the meeting
of the council. Then, entering into conversation with Egmont, he
strolled with him through the adjoining rooms, in one of which was a
small body of soldiers. As the two nobles entered the apartment, Sancho
Davila, the captain of the duke's guard, went up to Egmont, and in the
king's name demanded his sword, telling him at the same time he was his
prisoner.[982] The count, astounded by the proceeding, and seeing
himself surrounded by soldiers, made no attempt at resistance, but
calmly, and with much dignity in his manner, gave up his sword, saying
at the same time, "It has done the king service more than once."[983]
And well might he say so; for with that sword he had won the fields of
Gravelines and St. Quentin.[984]
Hoorne fell into a similar ambuscade, in another part of the palace,
whither he was drawn while conversing with the duke's son Ferdinand de
Toledo, who, according to his father's account, had the whole merit of
arranging this little drama.[985] Neither did the admiral make any
resistance; but, on learning Egmont's fate, yielded himself up, saying
"he had no right to expect to fare better than his friend."[986]
It now became a question as to the disposal of the prisoners. Culemborg
House was clearly no fitting place for their confinement. Alva caused
several castles in the neighborhood of Brussels to be examined, but they
were judged insecure. He finally decided on Ghent. The strong fortress
of this city was held by one of Egmont's own partisans; but an order was
obtained from the count requiring him to deliver up the keys into the
hands of Ulloa, one of Alva's most trusted captains, who, at the head of
a corps of Spanish veterans, marched to Ghent, and relieved the Walloon
garrison of their charge. Ulloa gave proof of his vigilance, immediately
on his arrival, by seizing a heavy wagon loaded with valuables belonging
to Egmont, as it was leaving the castle gate.[987]
Having completed these arrangements, the duke lost no time in sending
the two lords, under a strong military escort, to Ghent. Two companies
of mounted arquebusiers rode in the front. A regiment of Spanish
infantry, which formed the centre, guarded the prisoners; one of whom,
Egmont, was borne in a litter carried by mules, while Hoorne was in his
own carriage. The rear was brought up by three companies of light horse.
Under this strong guard the unfortunate nobles were conducted through
the province where Egmont had lately ruled "with an authority," writes
Alva's secretary, "greater even than that of the king."[988] But no
attempt was made at a rescue; and as the procession entered the gates of
Ghent, where Egmont's popularity was equal to his power, the people
gazed in stupefied silence on the stern array that was conducting their
lord to the place of his confinement.[989]
The arrest of Egmont and Hoorne was known, in a few hours after it took
place, to every inhabitant of Brussels; and the tidings soon spread to
the furthest parts of the country. "The imprisonment of the lords,"
writes Alva to the king, "has caused no disturbance. The tranquillity is
such that your majesty would hardly credit it."[990] True; but the
tranquillity was that of a man stunned by a heavy blow. If murmurs were
not loud, however, they were deep. Men mourned over the credulity of the
two counts, who had so blindly fallen into the snare, and congratulated
one another on the forecast of the prince of Orange, who might one day
have the power to avenge them.[991] The event gave a new spur to
emigration. In the space of a few weeks no loss than twenty thousand
persons are said to have fled the country.[992] And the exiles were not
altogether drawn from the humbler ranks; for no one, however high, could
feel secure when he saw the blow aimed at men like Egmont and Hoorne,
the former of whom, if he had given some cause of distrust, had long
since made his peace with the government.
Count Mansfeldt made haste to send his son out of the country, lest the
sympathy he had once shown for the confederates, notwithstanding his
recent change of opinion, might draw on him the vengeance of Alva. The
old count, whose own loyalty could not be impeached, boldly complained
of the arrest of the lords as an infringement on the rights of the
_Toison d'Or_, which body alone had cognizance of the causes that
concerned their order, intimating, at the same time, his intention to
summon a meeting of the members. But he was silenced by Alva, who
plainly told him, that, if the chevaliers of the order did meet, and
said so much as the _credo_, he would bring them to a heavy reckoning
for it. As to the rights of the _Toison_, his majesty has pronounced on
them, said the duke, and nothing remains for you but to submit.[993]
The arrest and imprisonment of the two highest nobles in the land,
members of the council of state, and that without any communication with
her, was an affront to the regent which she could not brook. It was in
vain that Alva excused it by saying it had been done by the order of the
king, who wished to spare his sister the unpopularity which must attach
to such a proceeding. Margaret made no reply. She did not complain. She
was too deeply wounded to complain. But she wrote to Philip, asking him
to consider "whether it could be advantageous to him, or decorous for
her, whom he did not disdain to call his sister, that she should remain
longer in a place of which the authority was so much abridged, or rather
annihilated."[994] She sent her secretary, Machiavelli, with her
despatches, requesting an immediate reply from Philip, and adding that,
if it were delayed, she should take silence for assent, and forthwith
leave the country.
[Sidenote: THE COUNCIL OF BLOOD.]
The duke of Alva was entirely resigned to the proposed departure of
Margaret. However slight the restraint her presence might impose on his
conduct, it exacted more deference than was convenient, and compelled
him to consult appearances. Now that he had shown his hand, he was
willing to play it out boldly to the end. His first step, after the
arrest of the lords, was to organize that memorable tribunal for
inquiring into the troubles of the country, which has no parallel in
history save the revolutionary tribunal of the French republic. The duke
did not shrink from assuming the sole responsibility of his measures. He
said, "it was better for the king to postpone his visit to the
Netherlands, so that his ministers might bear alone the odium of these
rigorous acts. When these had been performed, he might come like a
gracious prince, dispensing promises and pardon."[995]
This admirable coolness must be referred in part to Alva's consciousness
that his policy would receive the unqualified sanction of his master.
Indeed, his correspondence shows that all he had done in the Low
Countries was in accordance with a plan preconcerted with Philip. The
arrest of the Flemish lords, accordingly, gave entire satisfaction at
the court of Madrid, where it was looked on as the first great step in
the measures of redress. It gave equal contentment to the court of Rome,
where it was believed that the root of heresy was to be reached only by
the axe of the executioner. Yet there was one person at that court of
more penetration than those around him, the old statesman, Granvelle,
who, when informed of the arrest of Egmont and Hoorne, inquired if the
duke had "also drawn into his net the _Silent one_,"--as the prince of
Orange was popularly called. On being answered in the negative, "Then,"
said the cardinal, "if he has not caught him, he has caught
nothing."[996]
CHAPTER II.
CRUEL POLICY OF ALVA.
The Council of Blood.--Its Organization.--General Prosecutions.--Civil
War in France.--Departure of Margaret.--Her administration reviewed.
1567.
"Thank God," writes the duke of Alva to his sovereign, on the
twenty-fourth of October, "all is tranquil in the Low Countries."[997]
It was the same sentiment he had uttered a few weeks before. All was
indeed tranquil. Silence reigned throughout the land. Yet it might have
spoken more eloquently to the heart than the murmurs of discontent, or
the loudest tumult of insurrection. "They say many are leaving the
country," he writes in another despatch. "It is hardly worth while to
arrest them. The repose of the nation is not to be brought about by
cutting off the heads of those who are led astray by others."[998]
Yet in less than a week after this, we find a royal ordinance, declaring
that, "whereas his majesty is averse to use rigor towards those who have
taken part in the late rebellion; and would rather deal with them in all
gentleness and mercy,[999] it is forbidden to any one to leave the land,
or to send off his effects, without obtaining a license from the
authorities, under pain of being regarded as having taken part in the
late troubles, and of being dealt with accordingly. All masters and
owners of vessels, who shall aid such persons in their flight, shall
incur the same penalties."[1000] The penalties denounced in this spirit
of "gentleness and mercy," were death and confiscation of property.
That the law was not a dead letter was soon shown by the arrest of ten
of the principal merchants of Tournay, as they were preparing to fly to
foreign parts, and by the immediate confiscation of their estates.[1001]
Yet Alva would have persuaded the world that he, as well as his master,
was influenced only by sentiments of humanity. To the Spanish ambassador
at Rome he wrote, soon after the seizure of the Flemish lords: "I might
have arrested more; but the king is averse to shedding the blood of his
people. I have the same disposition myself.[1002] I am pained to the
bottom of my soul by the necessity of the measure."
But now that the great nobles had come into the snare, it was hardly
necessary to keep up the affectation of lenity; and it was not long
before he threw away the mask altogether. The arm of justice--of
vengeance--was openly raised to strike down all who had offended by
taking part in the late disturbances.
The existing tribunals were not considered as competent to this work.
The regular forms of procedure were too dilatory, and the judges
themselves would hardly be found subservient enough to the will of Alva.
He created, therefore, a new tribunal, with extraordinary powers, for
the sole purpose of investigating the causes of the late disorders, and
for bringing the authors to punishment. It was called originally the
"Council of his Excellency." The name was soon changed for that of the
"Council of Tumults." But the tribunal is better known in history by the
terrible name it received from the people, of the "_Council of
Blood_."[1003]
[Sidenote: THE COUNCIL OF BLOOD.]
It was composed of twelve judges, "the most learned, upright men, and of
the purest lives"--if we may take the duke's word for it--that were to
be found in the country.[1004] Among them were Noircarmes and
Barlaimont, both members of the council of state. The latter was a proud
noble, of one of the most ancient families in the land, inflexible in
his character, and stanch in his devotion to the crown. Besides these
there were the presidents of the councils of Artois and Flanders, the
chancellor of Gueldres, and several jurists of repute in the country.
But the persons of most consideration in the body were two lawyers who
had come in the duke's train from Castile. One of these, the doctor Del
Rio, though born in Bruges, was of Spanish extraction. His most
prominent trait seems to have been unlimited subserviency to the will of
his employer.[1005] The other, Juan de Vargas, was to play the most
conspicuous part in the bloody drama that followed. He was a Spaniard,
and had held a place in the council of the Indies. His character was
infamous; and he was said to have defrauded an orphan ward of her
patrimony.[1006] When he left Spain, two criminal prosecutions are
reported to have been hanging over him. This only made him the more
dependent on Alva's protection. He was a man of great energy of
character, unwearied in application to business, unscrupulous in the
service of his employer, ready at any price to sacrifice to his own
interest, not only every generous impulse, but the common feelings of
humanity. Such, at least, are the dark colors in which he is portrayed
by the writers of a nation which held him in detestation. Yet his very
vices made him so convenient to the duke, that the latter soon bestowed
on him more of his confidence than on any other of his followers;[1007]
and in his correspondence with Philip we perpetually find him commending
Vargas to the monarch's favor, and contrasting his "activity, altogether
juvenile," with the apathy of others of the council.[1008] As Vargas was
unacquainted with Flemish, the proceedings of the court were conducted,
for his benefit, in Latin.[1009] Yet he was such a bungler, even in this
language, that his blunders furnished infinite merriment to the people
of Flanders, who took some revenge for their wrongs in the ridicule of
their oppressor.
As the new court had cognizance of all cases, civil as well as criminal,
which grew out of the late disorders, the amount of business soon
pressed on them so heavily, that it was found expedient to distribute it
into several departments among the different members. Two of the body
had especial charge of the processes of the prince of Orange, his
brother Louis, Hoogstraten, Culemborg, and the rest of William's noble
companions in exile. To Vargas and Del Rio was intrusted the trial of
the Counts Egmont and Hoorne. And two others, Blasere and Hessels, had
the most burdensome and important charge of all such causes as came from
the provinces.[1010]
The latter of these two worthies was destined to occupy a place second
only to that of Vargas on the bloody roll of persecution. He was a
native of Ghent, of sufficient eminence in his profession to fill the
office of attorney-general of his province under Charles the Fifth. In
that capacity he enforced the edicts with so much rigor as to make
himself odious to his countrymen. In the new career now opened to him,
he found a still wider field for his mischievous talents, and he entered
on the duties of his office with such hearty zeal as soon roused general
indignation in the people, who at a later day took terrible vengeance on
their oppressor.[1011]
As soon as the Council of Troubles was organized, commissioners were
despatched into the provinces to hunt out the suspected parties. All who
had officiated as preachers, or had harbored or aided them, who had
joined the consistories, who had assisted in defacing or destroying the
Catholic churches or in building the Protestant, who had subscribed the
Compromise, or who, in short, had taken an active part in the late
disorders, were to be arrested as guilty of treason. In the hunt after
victims informations were invited from every source. Wives were
encouraged to depose against husbands, children against parents. The
prisons were soon full to overflowing, and the provincial and the local
magistrates were busy in filing informations of the different cases,
which were forwarded to the court at Brussels. When deemed of sufficient
importance, the further examination of a case was reserved for the
council itself. But for the most part the local authorities, or a
commission sent expressly for the purpose, were authorized to try the
cause, proceeding even to a definitive sentence, which, with the grounds
of it, they were to lay before the Council of Troubles. The process was
then revised by the committee for the provinces, who submitted the
result of their examination to Vargas and Del Rio. The latter were alone
empowered to vote in the matter; and their sentence, prepared in
writing, was laid before the duke, who reserved to himself the right of
a final decision. This he did, as he wrote to Philip, that he might not
come too much under the direction of the council. "Your majesty well
knows," he concludes, "that gentlemen of the law are unwilling to decide
anything except upon evidence, while measures of state policy are not to
be regulated by the laws."[1012]
It might be supposed that the different judges to whom the prisoner's
case was thus separately submitted for examination, would have afforded
an additional guaranty for his security. But quite the contrary; it only
multiplied the chances of his conviction. When the provincial committee
presented their report to Vargas and Del Rio,--to whom a Spanish jurist,
auditor of the chancery of Valladolid, named Roda, was afterwards
added,--if it proposed sentence of death, these judges declared it "was
right, and that there was no necessity of reviewing the process." If, on
the contrary, a lower penalty was recommended, the worthy ministers of
the law were in the habit of returning the process, ordering the
committee, with bitter imprecations, to revise it more carefully![1013]
[Sidenote: THE COUNCIL OF BLOOD.]
As confiscation was one of the most frequent as well as momentous
penalties adjudged by the Council of Blood, it necessarily involved a
large number of civil actions; for the estate thus forfeited was often
burdened with heavy claims on it by other parties. These were all to be
established before the council. One may readily comprehend how small was
the chance of justice before such a tribunal, where the creditor was one
of the parties, and the crown the other. Even if the suit was decided in
favor of the creditor, it was usually so long protracted, and attended
with such ruinous expense, that it would have been better for him never
to have urged it.[1014]
The jurisdiction of the court, within the limits assigned to it, wholly
superseded that of the great court of Mechlin, as well as of every other
tribunal, provincial or municipal, in the country. Its decisions were
final. By the law of the land, established by repeated royal charters in
the provinces, no man in the Netherlands could be tried by any but a
native judge. But of the present court, one member was a native of
Burgundy, and two were Spaniards.
It might be supposed that a tribunal with such enormous powers, which
involved so gross an outrage on the constitutional rights and
long-established usages of the nation, would at least have been
sanctioned by some warrant from the crown. It could pretend to nothing
of the kind,--not even a written commission from the duke of Alva, the
man who created it. By his voice alone he gave it an existence. The
ceremony of induction into office was performed by the new member
placing his hands between those of the duke, and swearing to remain true
to the faith; to decide in all cases according to his sincere
conviction; finally, to keep secret all the doings of the council, and
to denounce any one who disclosed them.[1015] A tribunal clothed with
such unbounded power, and conducted on a plan so repugnant to all
principles of justice, fell nothing short, in its atrocity, of that
inquisition so much dreaded in the Netherlands.
Alva, in order to be the better able to attend the council, appointed
his own palace for the place of meeting. At first the sittings were held
morning and afternoon, lasting sometimes seven hours in a day.[1016]
There was a general attendance of the members, the duke presiding in
person. After a few months, as he was drawn to a distance by more
pressing affairs, he resigned his place to Vargas. Barlaimont and
Noircarmes, disgusted with the atrocious character of the proceedings,
soon absented themselves from the meetings. The more respectable of the
members imitated their example. One of the body, a Burgundian, a
follower of Granvelle, having criticised the proceedings somewhat too
freely, had leave to withdraw to his own province;[1017] till at length
only three or four councillors remained,--Vargas, Del Rio, Hessels, and
his colleague,--on whom the despatch of the momentous business wholly
devolved. To some of the processes we find not more than three names
subscribed. The duke was as indifferent to forms, as he was to the
rights of the nation.[1018]
It soon became apparent, that, as in most proscriptions, wealth was the
mark at which persecution was mainly directed. At least, if it did not
actually form a ground of accusation, it greatly enhanced the chances of
a conviction. The commissioners sent to the provinces received written
instructions to ascertain the exact amount of property belonging to the
suspected parties. The expense incident to the maintenance of so many
officials, as well as of a large military force, pressed heavily on the
government; and Alva soon found it necessary to ask for support from
Madrid. It was in vain he attempted to obtain a loan from the merchants.
"They refuse," he writes; "to advance a _real_ on the security of the
confiscations, till they see how _the game_ we have begun is likely to
prosper!"[1019]
In another letter to Philip, dated on the twenty-fourth of October,
Alva, expressing his regret at the necessity of demanding supplies, says
that the Low Countries ought to maintain themselves, and be no tax upon
Spain. He is constantly thwarted by the duchess, and by the council of
finance, in his appropriation of the confiscated property. Could he only
manage things in his own way, he would answer for it that the Flemish
cities, uncertain and anxious as to their fate, would readily acquiesce
in the fair means of raising a revenue proposed by the king.[1020] The
ambitious general, eager to secure the sole authority to himself,
artfully touched on the topic which would be most likely to operate with
his master. In a note on this passage, in his own handwriting, Philip
remarked that this was but just; but as he feared that supplies would
never be raised with the consent of the states, Alva must devise some
expedient by which their consent in the matter might be dispensed with,
and communicate it _privately_ to him.[1021] This pregnant thought he
soon after develops more fully in a letter to the duke.[1022]--It is
edifying to observe the cool manner in which the king and his general
discuss the best means for filching a revenue from the pockets of the
good people of the Netherlands.
[Sidenote: GENERAL PROSECUTIONS.]
Margaret,--whose name now rarely appears,--scandalized by the plan
avowed of wholesale persecution, and satisfied that blood enough had
been shed already, would fain have urged her brother to grant a general
pardon. But to this the duke strongly objected. "He would have every
man," he wrote to Philip, "feel that any day his house might fall about
his ears.[1023] Thus private individuals would be induced to pay larger
sums by way of composition for their offences."
As the result of the confiscations, owing to the drains upon them above
alluded to, proved less than he expected, the duke, somewhat later,
proposed a tax of one per cent. on all property, personal and real. But
to this some of the council had the courage to object, as a thing not
likely to be relished by the states. "That depends," said Alva, "on the
way in which they are approached." He had as little love for the
states-general as his master, and looked on applications to them for
money as something derogatory to the crown. "I would take care to ask
for it," he said, "as I did when I wanted money to build the citadel of
Antwerp,--in such a way that they should not care to refuse it."[1024]
The most perfect harmony seems to have subsisted between the king and
Alva in their operations for destroying the liberties of the nation,--so
perfect, indeed, that it could have been the result only of some
previous plan, concerted probably while the duke was in Castile. The
details of the execution were doubtless left, as they arose, to Alva's
discretion. But they so entirely received the royal sanction,--as is
abundantly shown by the correspondence,--that Philip may be said to have
made every act of his general his own. And not unfrequently we find the
monarch improving on the hints of his correspondent by some additional
suggestion.[1025] Whatever evils grew out of the male-administration of
the duke of Alva, the responsibility for the measures rests ultimately
on the head of Philip.
One of the early acts of the new council was to issue a summons to the
prince of Orange, and to each of the noble exiles in his company, to
present themselves at Brussels, and answer the charges against them. In
the summons addressed to William, he was accused of having early
encouraged a spirit of disaffection in the nation; of bringing the
Inquisition into contempt; of promoting the confederacy of the nobles,
and opening his own palace of Breda for their discussions; of
authorizing the exercise of the reformed religion in Antwerp; in fine,
of being at the bottom of the troubles, civil and religious, which had
so long distracted the land. He was required, therefore, under pain of
confiscation of his property and perpetual exile, to present himself
before the council at Brussels within the space of six weeks, and
answer the charges against him. This summons was proclaimed by the
public crier, both in Brussels and in William's own city of Breda; and a
placard containing it was affixed to the door of the principal church in
each of those places.[1026]
Alva followed up this act by another, which excited general indignation
through the country. He caused the count of Buren, William's eldest son,
then a lad pursuing his studies at Louvain, to be removed from the
university, and sent to Spain. His tutor and several of his domestics
were allowed to accompany him. But the duke advised the king to get rid
of these attendants as speedily as possible, and fill their places with
Spaniards.[1027] This unwarrantable act appears to have originated with
Granvelle, who recommends it in one of his letters from Rome.[1028] The
object, no doubt, was to secure some guaranty for the father's
obedience, as well as to insure the loyalty of the heir of the house of
Nassau, and to retain him in the Catholic faith. In the last object the
plan succeeded. The youth was kindly treated by Philip; and his long
residence in Spain nourished in him so strong an attachment to both
Church and crown, that he was ever after divorced from the great cause
in which his father and his countrymen were embarked.
The prince of Orange published to the world his sense of the injury done
to him by this high-handed proceeding of the duke of Alva; and the
university of Louvain boldly sent a committee to the council to
remonstrate on the violation of their privileges. Vargas listened to
them with a smile of contempt, and, as he dismissed the deputation,
exclaimed, "_Non curamus vestros privilegios_,"--an exclamation long
remembered for its bad Latin as well as for its insolence.[1029]
It may well be believed that neither William nor his friends obeyed the
summons of the Council of Blood. The prince, in a reply which was
printed and circulated abroad, denied the authority of Alva to try him.
As a knight of the Golden Fleece, he had a right to be tried by his
peers; as a citizen of Brabant, by his countrymen. He was not bound to
present himself before an incompetent tribunal,--one, moreover, which
had his avowed personal enemy at its head.[1030]
The prince, during his residence in Germany, experienced all those
alleviations of his misfortunes which the sympathy and support of
powerful friends could afford. Among these the most deserving of notice
was William the Wise, a worthy son of the famous old landgrave of Hesse
who so stoutly maintained the Protestant cause against Charles the
Fifth. He and the elector of Saxony, both kinsmen of William's wife,
offered to provide an establishment for the prince, while he remained in
Germany, which, if it was not on the magnificent scale to which he had
been used in the Netherlands, was still not unsuited to the dignity of
his rank.[1031]
[Sidenote: CIVIL WAR IN FRANCE.]
The little court of William received every day fresh accessions from
those who fled from persecution in the Netherlands. They brought with
them appeals to him from his countrymen to interpose in their behalf.
The hour had not yet come. But still he was not idle. He was earnestly
endeavoring to interest the German princes in the cause, was
strengthening his own resources, and steadily, though silently, making
preparation for the great struggle with the oppressors of his country.
While these events were passing in the Netherlands, the neighboring
monarchy of France was torn by those religious dissensions, which, at
this period, agitated, in a greater or less degree, most of the states
of Christendom. One half of the French nation was in arms against the
other half. At the time of our history, the Huguenots had gained a
temporary advantage; their combined forces were beleaguering the
capital, in which the king and Catherine de Medicis, his mother, were
then held prisoners. In this extremity, Catherine appealed to Margaret
to send a body of troops to her assistance. The regent hesitated as to
what course to take, and referred the matter to Alva. He did not
hesitate. He knew Philip's disposition in regard to France, and had
himself, probably, come to an understanding on the subject with the
queen-mother in the famous interview at Bayonne. He proposed to send a
body of three thousand horse to her relief. At the same time he wrote to
Catherine, offering to leave the Low Countries, and march himself to her
support with his whole strength, five thousand horse and fifteen
thousand foot, all his Spanish veterans included, provided she would
bring matters to an issue, and finish at once with the enemies of their
religion. The duke felt how powerfully such a result would react on the
Catholic cause in the Netherlands.
He besought Catherine to come to no terms with the rebels; above all, to
make them no concessions. "Such concessions must, of necessity, be
either spiritual or temporal. If spiritual, they would be opposed to the
rights of God; if temporal, to the rights of the king. Better to reign
over a ruined land, which yet remains true to its God and its king, than
over one left unharmed for the benefit of the Devil and his followers
the heretics."[1032] In this declaration, breathing the full spirit of
religious and political absolutism, may be found the true key to the
policy of Alva and of his master.
Philip heartily approved of the views taken by his general.[1033] As the
great champion of Catholicism, he looked with the deepest interest on
the religious struggle going forward in the neighboring kingdom, which
exercised so direct an influence on the revolutionary movements in the
Netherlands. He strongly encouraged the queen-mother to yield nothing to
the heretics. "With his own person," he declared, "and with all that he
possessed, he was ready to serve the French crown in its contests with
the rebels."[1034] Philip's zeal in the cause was so well understood in
France, that some of the Catholic leaders did not scruple to look to
him, rather than to their own government, as the true head of their
party.[1035]
Catherine de Medicis did not discover the same uncompromising spirit,
and had before this disgusted her royal son-in-law by the politic views
which mingled with her religion. On the present occasion she did not
profit by the brilliant offer made to her by Alva to come in person at
the head of his army. She may have thought so formidable a presence
might endanger the independence of the government. Roman Catholic as she
was at heart, she preferred, with true Italian policy, balancing the
rival factions against each other, to exterminating either of them
altogether. The duke saw that Catherine was not disposed to strike at
the root of the evil, and that the advantages to be secured by success
would be only temporary. He contented himself, therefore, with
despatching a smaller force, chiefly of Flemish troops, under Aremberg.
Before the count reached Paris, the battle of St. Denis had been fought.
Montmorenci fell; but the royal party was victorious. Catherine made a
treaty with the discomfited Huguenots, as favorable to them as if they,
not she, had won the fight. Alva, disgusted with the issue, ordered the
speedy return of Aremberg, whose presence, moreover, was needed, on a
more active theatre of operations.
During all this while Margaret's position afforded a pitiable contrast
to the splendid elevation which she had occupied for so many years as
head of the government. Not only had the actual power passed from her
hands, but she felt that all her influence had gone with it. She hardly
enjoyed even the right of remonstrance. In this position, she had the
advantage of being more favorably situated for criticizing the conduct
of the administration, than when she was herself at the head of it. She
became more sensible of the wrongs of the people,--now that they were
inflicted by other hands than her own. She did not refuse to intercede
in their behalf. She deprecated the introduction of a garrison into the
good city of Brussels. If this were necessary, she still besought the
duke not to allow the loyal inhabitants to be burdened with the
maintenance of the soldiers.[1036] But he turned a deaf ear to her
petition. She urged that, after the chastisement already inflicted on
the nation, the only way to restore quiet was by a general amnesty. The
duke replied, that no amnesty could be so general but there must be some
exceptions, and it would take time to determine who should be excepted.
She recommended that the states be called together to vote the supplies.
He evaded this also by saying it would be necessary first to decide on
the amount of the subsidy to be raised.[1037] The regent felt that in
all matters of real moment she had as little weight as any private
individual in the country.
[Sidenote: DEPARTURE OF MARGARET]
From this state of humiliation she was at last relieved by the return of
her secretary, Machiavelli, who brought with him despatches from Ruy
Gomez, Philip's favorite minister. He informed the duchess that the
king, though, reluctantly, had at last acceded to her request, and
allowed her to resign the government of the provinces. In token of his
satisfaction with her conduct, his majesty had raised the pension which
she had hitherto enjoyed, of eight thousand florins, to fourteen
thousand, to be paid her yearly during the remainder of her life. This
letter was dated on the sixth of October.[1038] Margaret soon after
received one, dated four days later, from Philip himself, of much the
same tenor with that of his minister. The king, in a few words,
intimated the regret he felt at his sister's retirement from office, and
the sense he entertained of the services she had rendered him by her
long and faithful administration.[1039]
The increase of the pension showed no very extravagant estimate of these
services; and the parsimonious tribute which, after his long silence, he
now, in a few brief sentences, paid to her deserts, too plainly
intimated, that all she had done had failed to excite even a feeling of
gratitude in the bosom of her brother.[1040] At the same time with the
letter to Margaret came a commission to the duke of Alva, investing him
with the title of regent and governor-general, together with all the
powers that had been possessed by his predecessor.[1041]
Margaret made only one request of Philip previous to her departure. This
he denied her. Her father, Charles the Fifth, at the time of his
abdication, had called the states-general together, and taken leave of
them in a farewell address, which was still cherished as a legacy by his
subjects. Margaret would have imitated his example. The grandeur of the
spectacle pleased her imagination; and she was influenced, no doubt, by
the honest desire of manifesting, in the hour of separation, some
feelings of a kindly nature for the people over whom she had ruled for
so many years.
But Philip, as we have seen, had no relish for these meetings of the
states. He had no idea of consenting to them on an emergency no more
pressing than the present. Margaret was obliged, therefore, to
relinquish the pageant, and to content herself with taking leave of the
people by letters addressed to the principal cities of the provinces. In
these she briefly touched on the difficulties which had lain in her
path, and on the satisfaction which she felt at having, at length,
brought the country to a state of tranquillity and order. She besought
them to remain always constant in the faith in which they had been
nurtured, as well as in their loyalty to a prince so benign and merciful
as the king, her brother. In so doing the blessing of Heaven would rest
upon them; and for her own part, she would ever be found ready to use
her good offices in their behalf.[1042]
She proved her sincerity by a letter written to Philip, before her
departure, in which she invoked his mercy in behalf of his Flemish
subjects. "Mercy," she said, "was a divine attribute. The greater the
power possessed by a monarch, the nearer he approached the Deity, and
the more should he strive to imitate the divine clemency and
compassion.[1043] His royal predecessors had contented themselves with
punishing the leaders of sedition, while they spared the masses who
repented. Any other course would confound the good with the bad, and
bring such calamities on the country as his majesty could not fail to
appreciate."[1044]--Well had it been for the fair fame of Margaret, if
her counsels had always been guided by such wise and magnanimous
sentiments.
The tidings of the regent's abdication were received with dismay
throughout the provinces. All the errors of her government, her acts of
duplicity, the excessive rigor with which she had of late visited
offences,--all were forgotten in the regret felt for her departure. Men
thought only of the prosperity which the country had enjoyed under her
rule, the confidence which in earlier years she had bestowed on the
friends of the people, the generous manner in which she had interposed,
on more than one occasion, to mitigate the hard policy of the court of
Madrid. And as they turned from these more brilliant passages of her
history, their hearts were filled with dismay while they looked gloomily
into the future.
Addresses poured in upon her from all quarters. The different cities
vied with one another in expressions of regret for her departure, while
they invoked the blessings of Heaven on her remaining days. More than
one of the provinces gave substantial evidence of their good-will by
liberal donatives. Brabant voted her the sum of twenty-five thousand
florins, and Flanders, thirty thousand.[1045] The neighboring princes,
and among them Elizabeth of England, joined with the people of the
Netherlands in professions of respect for the regent, as well as of
regret that she was to relinquish the government.[1046]
Cheered by these assurances of the consideration in which she was held
both at home and abroad, Margaret quitted Brussels at the close of
December, 1567. She was attended to the borders of Brabant by Alva, and
thence conducted to Germany, by Count Mansfeldt and an escort of Flemish
nobles.[1047] There bidding adieu to all that remained of her former
state, she pursued her journey quietly to Italy. For some time she
continued with her husband in his ducal residence at Parma. But,
wherever lay the fault, it was Margaret's misfortune to taste but little
of the sweets of domestic intercourse. Soon afterwards she removed to
Naples, and there permanently established her abode on estates which had
been granted her by the crown. Many years later, when her son, Alexander
Farnese, was called to the government of the Netherlands, she quitted
her retirement to take part with him in the direction of public affairs.
It was but for a moment; and her present departure from the Netherlands
may be regarded as the close of her political existence.
[Sidenote: HER ADMINISTRATION REVIEWED.]
The government of Margaret continued from the autumn of 1559 to the end
of 1567, a period of eight years. It was a stormy and most eventful
period; for it was then that the minds of men were agitated to their
utmost depths by the new doctrines which gave birth to the revolution.
Margaret's regency, indeed, may be said to have furnished the opening
scenes of that great drama. The inhabitants of the Low Countries were
accustomed to the sway of a woman. Margaret was the third of her line
that had been intrusted with the regency. In qualifications for the
office she was probably not inferior to her predecessors. Her long
residence in Italy had made her acquainted with the principles of
government in a country where political science was more carefully
studied than in any other quarter of Europe. She was habitually
industrious; and her robust frame was capable of any amount of labor. If
she was too masculine in her nature to allow of the softer qualities of
her sex, she was, on the other hand, exempt from the fondness for
pleasure and from most of the frivolities which belonged to the women of
the voluptuous clime in which she had lived. She was stanch in her
devotion to the Catholic faith; and her loyalty was such, that, from the
moment of assuming the government, she acknowledged no stronger motive
than that of conformity to the will of her sovereign. She was fond of
power; and she well knew that, with Philip, absolute conformity to his
will was the only condition on which it was to be held.
With her natural good sense, and the general moderation of her views,
she would, doubtless, have ruled over the land as prosperously as her
predecessors, had the times been like theirs. But, unhappily for her,
the times had greatly changed. Still Margaret, living on the theatre of
action, and feeling the pressure of circumstances, would have gone far
to conform to the change. But unfortunately she represented a prince,
dwelling at a distance, who knew no change himself, allowed no
concessions to others,--whose conservative policy rested wholly on the
past.
It was unfortunate for Margaret, that she never fully possessed the
confidence of Philip. Whether from distrust of her more accommodating
temper, or of her capacity for government, he gave a larger share of it,
at the outset, to Granvelle than to her. If the regent could have been
blind to this, her eyes would soon have been opened to the fact by the
rivals who hated the minister. It was not long before she hated him too.
But the removal of Granvelle did not establish her in her brother's
confidence. It rather increased his distrust, by the necessity it
imposed on her of throwing herself into the arms of the opposite party,
the friends of the people. From this moment Philip's confidence was more
heartily bestowed on the duke of Alva, even on the banished Granvelle,
than on the regent. Her letters remained too often unanswered. The
answers, when they did come, furnished only dark and mysterious hints of
the course to be pursued. She was left to work out the problem of
government by herself, sure for every blunder to be called to a strict
account. Rumors of the speedy coming of the king suggested the idea that
her own dominion was transitory, soon to be superseded by that of a
higher power.
Under these disadvantages she might well have lost all reliance on
herself. She was not even supplied with the means of carrying out her
own schemes. She was left without money, without arms, without the power
to pardon,--more important, with a brave and generous race, than the
power to punish. Thus, destitute of resources, without the confidence of
her employer, with the people stoutly demanding concessions on the one
side, with the sovereign sternly refusing them on the other, it is
little to say that Margaret was in a false position: her position was
deplorable. She ought not to have remained in it a day after she found
that she could not hold it with honor. But Margaret was too covetous of
power readily to resign it. Her misunderstanding with her husband made
her, moreover, somewhat dependent on her brother.
At last came the Compromise and the league. Margaret's eyes seemed now
to be first opened to the direction of the course she was taking. This
was followed by the explosion of the iconoclasts. The shock fully awoke
her from her delusion. She was as zealous for the Catholic Church as
Philip himself; and she saw with horror that it was trembling to its
foundations. A complete change seemed to take place in her
convictions,--in her very nature. She repudiated all those with whom she
had hitherto acted. She embraced, as heartily as he could desire, the
stern policy of Philip. She proscribed, she persecuted, she
punished,--and that with an excess of rigor that does little honor to
her memory. It was too late. The distrust of Philip was not to be
removed by this tardy compliance with his wishes. A successor was
already appointed; and at the very moment when she flattered herself
that the tranquillity of the country and her own authority were
established on a permanent basis, the duke of Alva was on his march
across the mountains.
Yet it was fortunate for Margaret's reputation that she was succeeded in
the government by a man like Alva. The darkest spots on her
administration became light when brought into comparison with his reign
of terror. From this point of view it has been criticized by the writers
of her own time and those of later ages.[1048] And in this way,
probably, as the student who ponders the events of her history may
infer, a more favorable judgment has been passed upon her actions than
would be warranted by a calm and deliberate scrutiny.
CHAPTER III.
REIGN OF TERROR.
Numerous Arrests.--Trials and Executions.--Confiscations.--Orange
assembles an Army.--Battle of Heyligerlee.--Alva's Proceedings.
1568.
In the beginning of 1568, Philip, if we may trust the historians,
resorted to a very extraordinary measure for justifying to the world his
rigorous proceedings against the Netherlands. He submitted the case to
the Inquisition at Madrid; and that ghostly tribunal, after duly
considering the evidence derived from the information of the king and of
the inquisitors in the Netherlands, came to the following decision. All
who had been guilty of heresy, apostasy, or sedition, and all, moreover,
who, though professing themselves good Catholics, had offered no
resistance to these, were, with the exception of a few specified
individuals, thereby convicted of treason in the highest degree.[1049]
[Sidenote: NUMEROUS ARRESTS.]
This sweeping judgment was followed by a royal edict, dated on the same
day, the sixteenth of February, in which, after reciting the language of
the Inquisition, the whole nation, with the exception above stated, was
sentenced, without distinction of sex or age, to the penalties of
treason,--death and confiscation of property; and this, the decree went
on to say, "without any hope of grace whatever, that it might serve for
an example and a warning to all future time!"[1050]
It is difficult to give credit to a story so monstrous, repeated though
it has been by successive writers without the least distrust of its
correctness. Not that anything can be too monstrous to be believed of
the Inquisition. But it is not easy to believe that a sagacious prince
like Philip the Second, however willing he might be to shelter himself
under the mantle of the Holy Office, could have lent himself to an act
as impolitic as it was absurd; one that, confounding the innocent with
the guilty, would drive both to desperation,--would incite the former,
from a sense of injury, to take up rebellion, by which there was nothing
more to lose, and the latter to persist in it, since there was nothing
more to hope.[1051]
The messenger who brought to Margaret the royal permission to resign the
regency delivered to Alva his commission as captain-general of the
Netherlands. This would place the duke, as Philip wrote to him, beyond
the control of the council of finance, in the important matter of the
confiscations.[1052] It raised him, indeed, not only above that council,
but above every other council in the country. It gave him an authority
not less than that of the sovereign himself. And Alva prepared to
stretch this to an extent greater than any sovereign of the Netherlands
had ever ventured on. The time had now come to put his terrible
machinery into operation. The regent was gone, who, if she could not
curb, might at least criticize his actions. The prisons were full; the
processes were completed. Nothing remained but to pass sentence and to
execute.