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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 26
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1576-1577
By John Lothrop Motley
1855
PART V.
DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA.
1576-1577 [CHAPTER I.]
Birth and parentage of Don John--Barbara Blomberg--Early education
and recognition by Philip--Brilliant military career--Campaign
against the Moors--Battle of Lepanto--Extravagant ambition--Secret
and rapid journey of the new Governor to the Netherlands--Contrast
between Don John and William of Orange--Secret instructions of
Philip and private purposes of the Governor--Cautious policy and
correspondence of the Prince--Preliminary, negotiations with Don
John at Luxemburg characterized--Union of Brussels--Resumption of
negotiations with the Governor at Huy--The discussions analyzed and
characterized--Influence of the new Emperor Rudolph II. and of his
envoys--Treaty of Marche en Famine, or the Perpetual Edict, signed--
Remarks upon that transaction--Views and efforts of Orange in
opposition to the treaty--His letter, in name of Holland and
Zealand, to the States-General--Anxiety of the royal government to
gain over the Prince--Secret mission of Leoninus--His instructions
from Don John--Fruitless attempts to corrupt the Prince--Secret
correspondence between Don John and Orange--Don John at Louvain--His
efforts to ingratiate himself with the Netherlanders--His incipient
popularity--Departure of the Spanish troops--Duke of Aerschot
appointed Governor of Antwerp citadel--His insincere character.
Don John of Austria was now in his thirty-second year, having been born
in Ratisbon on the 24th of February, 1545. His father was Charles the
Fifth, Emperor of Germany, King of Spain, Dominator of Asia, Africa,
and America; his mother was Barbara Blomberg, washerwoman of Ratisbon.
Introduced to the Emperor, originally, that she might alleviate his
melancholy by her singing, she soon exhausted all that was harmonious in
her nature, for never was a more uncomfortable, unmanageable personage
than Barbara in her after life. Married to one Pyramus Kegell, who was
made a military commissary in the Netherlands, she was left a widow in
the beginning of Alva's administration. Placed under the especial
superintendence of the Duke, she became the torment of that warrior's
life. The terrible Governor, who could almost crush the heart out of a
nation of three millions, was unable to curb this single termagant.
Philip had expressly forbidden her to marry again, but Alva informed him
that she was surrounded by suitors. Philip had insisted that she should
go into a convent, but Alva, who, with great difficulty, had established
her quietly in Ghent, assured his master that she would break loose again
at the bare suggestion of a convent. Philip wished her to go to Spain,
sending her word that Don John was mortified by the life his mother was
leading, but she informed the Governor that she would be cut to pieces
before she would go to Spain. She had no objection to see her son, but
she knew too well how women were treated in that country. The Duke
complained most pathetically to his Majesty of the life they all led with
the ex-mistress of the Emperor. Never, he frequently observed, had woman
so terrible a head. She was obstinate, reckless, abominably extravagant.
She had been provided in Ghent with a handsome establishment: "with a
duenna, six other women, a major domo, two pages, one chaplain, an
almoner, and four men-servants," and this seemed a sufficiently liberal
scheme of life for the widow of a commissary. Moreover, a very ample
allowance had been made for the education of her only legitimate son,
Conrad, the other having perished by an accident on the day of his
father's death. While Don John of Austria was, gathering laurels in
Granada, his half-brother, Pyramus junior, had been ingloriously drowned
in a cistern at Ghent.
Barbara's expenses were exorbitant; her way of life scandalous. To send
her money, said Alva, was to throw it into the sea. In two days she
would have spent in dissipation and feasting any sums which the King
might choose to supply. The Duke, who feared nothing else in the world,
stood in mortal awe of the widow Kegell. "A terrible animal, indeed, is
an unbridled woman," wrote secretary Gayas, from Madrid, at the close of
Alva's administration for, notwithstanding every effort to entice, to
intimidate, and to kidnap her from the Netherlands, there she remained,
through all vicissitudes, even till the arrival of Don John. By his
persuasions or commands she was, at last, induced to accept an exile for
the remainder of her days, in Spain, but revenged herself by asserting.
that he was quite mistaken: in supposing himself the Emperor's child; a
point, certainly, upon which her, authority might be thought conclusive.
Thus there was a double mystery about Don John. He might be the issue of
august parentage on one side; he was; possibly, sprung of most ignoble
blood. Base-born at best, he was not sure whether to look for the author
of his being in the halls of the Caesara or the booths of Ratisbon
mechanics.
[Cabrera, xii. 1009. An absurd rumor had existed that Barbara
Blomberg had only been employed to personate Don John's mother. She
died at an estate called Arronjo de Molinos, four leagues from
Madrid, some years after the death of Don John.]
Whatever might be the heart of the mystery, it is certain that it was
allowed to enwrap all the early life of Don John. The Emperor, who
certainly never doubted his responsibility for the infant's existence,
had him conveyed instantly to Spain, where he was delivered to Louis
Quixada, of the Imperial household, by whom he was brought up in great
retirement at Villa-garcia. Magdalen Ulloa, wife of Quixada, watched
over his infancy with maternal and magnanimous care, for her husband's
extreme solicitude for the infant's welfare had convinced her that he was
its father. On one occasion, when their house was in flames, Quixada
rescued the infant before he saved his wife, "although Magdalen knew
herself to be dearer to him than the apple of his eye." From that time
forth she altered her opinion, and believed the mysterious child to be of
lofty origin. The boy grew up full of beauty, grace, and agility, the
leader of all his companions in every hardy sport. Through the country
round there were none who could throw the javelin, break a lance, or ride
at the ring like little Juan Quixada. In taming unmanageable horses he
was celebrated for his audacity and skill. These accomplishments,
however, were likely to prove of but slender advantage in the
ecclesiastical profession, to which he had been destined by his Imperial
father. The death of Charles occurred before clerical studies had been
commenced, and Philip, to whom the secret had been confided at the close
of the Emperor's life, prolonged the delay thus interposed. Juan had
already reached his fourteenth year, when one day his supposed father
Quixada invited him to ride towards Valladolid to see the royal hunt.
Two horses stood at the door--a splendidly caparisoned charger and a
common hackney. The boy naturally mounted the humbler steed, and they
set forth for the mountains of Toro, but on hearing the bugles of the
approaching huntsmen, Quixada suddenly halted, and bade his youthful
companion exchange horses with himself. When this had been done, he
seized the hand of the wondering boy and kissing it respectfully,
exclaimed, "Your Highness will be informed as to the meaning of my
conduct by his Majesty, who is even now approaching." They had proceeded
but a short distance before they encountered the royal hunting party,
when both Quixada and young Juan dismounted, and bent the knee to their
monarch. Philip, commanding the boy to rise, asked him if he knew his
father's name. Juan replied, with a sigh, that he had at that moment
lost the only father whom he had known, for Quixada had just disowned
him. "You have the same father as myself," cried the King; "the Emperor
Charles was the august parent of us both." Then tenderly embracing him,
he commanded him to remount his horse, and all returned together to
Valladolid, Philip observing with a sentimentality that seems highly
apocryphal, that he had never brought home such precious game from any
hunt before.
This theatrical recognition of imperial descent was one among the many
romantic incidents of Don John's picturesque career, for his life was
never destined to know the commonplace. He now commenced his education,
in company with his two nephews, the Duchess Margaret's son, and Don
Carlos, Prince-royal of Spain. They were all of the same age, but the
superiority of Don John was soon recognized. It was not difficult to
surpass the limping, malicious, Carlos, either in physical graces or
intellectual accomplishments; but the graceful; urbane, and chivalrous
Alexander, destined afterwards to such wide celebrity, was a more
formidable rival, yet even the professed panegyrist of the Farnese
family, exalts the son of Barbara Blomberg over the grandson of Margaret
Van Geest.
Still destined for the clerical profession, Don John, at the age of
eighteen, to avoid compliance with Philip's commands, made his escape
to Barcelona. It was his intention to join the Maltese expedition.
Recalled peremptorily by Philip, he was for a short time in disgrace;
but afterwards made his peace with the monarch by denouncing some of the
mischievous schemes of Don Carlos. Between the Prince-royal and the
imperial bastard, there had always been a deep animosity, the Infante
having on one occasion saluted him with the most vigorous and offensive
appellation which his illegitimate birth could suggest. "Base-born or
not," returned Don John, "at any rate I had a better father than yours."
The words were probably reported to Philip and doubtless rankled in his
breast, but nothing appeared on the surface, and the youth rose rapidly
in favor. In his twenty-third year, he was appointed to the command of
the famous campaign against the insurgent Moors of Granada. Here he
reaped his first laurels, and acquired great military celebrity. It is
difficult to be dazzled by such glory. He commenced his operations by
the expulsion of nearly all the Moorish inhabitants of Granada, bed-
ridden men, women, and children, together, and the cruelty inflicted,
the sufferings patiently endured in that memorable deportation, were
enormous. But few of the many thousand exiles survived the horrid march,
those who were so unfortunate as to do so being sold into slavery by
their captors. Still a few Moors held out in their mountain fastnesses,
and two years long the rebellion of this handful made head against the,
power of Spain. Had their envoys to the Porte succeeded in their
negotiation, the throne of Philip might have trembled; but Selim hated
the Republic of Venice as much as he loved the wine of Cyprus. While the
Moors were gasping out their last breath in Granada and Ronda, the Turks
had wrested the island of Venus from the grasp of the haughty Republic
Fainagosta had fallen; thousands of Venetians had been butchered with a
ferocity which even Christians could not have surpassed; the famous
General Bragadino had been flayed; stuffed, and sent hanging on the yard-
arm of a frigate; to Constantinople, as a present to the Commander of the
Faithful; and the mortgage of Catherine Cornaro, to the exclusion of her
husband's bastards, had been thus definitely cancelled. With such
practical enjoyments, Selim was indifferent to the splendid but shadowy
vision of the Occidental caliphate--yet the revolt of the Moors was only
terminated, after the departure of Don John, by the Duke of Arcos.
The war which the Sultan had avoided in the West, came to seek him in the
East. To lift the Crucifix against the Crescent, at the head of the
powerful but quarrelsome alliance between Venice, Spain, and Rome, Don
John arrived at Naples. He brought with him more than a hundred ships
and twenty-three thousand men, as the Spanish contingent:--Three months
long the hostile fleets had been cruising in the same waters without an
encounter; three more were wasted in barren manoeuvres. Neither
Mussulman nor Christian had much inclination for the conflict, the Turk
fearing the consequences of a defeat, by which gains already secured
might be forfeited; the allies being appalled at the possibility of their
own triumph. Nevertheless, the Ottomans manoeuvred themselves at last
into the gulf of Lepanto, the Christians manoeuvred themselves towards
its mouth as the foe was coming forth again. The conflict thus rendered
inevitable, both Turk and Christian became equally eager for the fray,
equally confident of, victory. Six hundred vessels of war met face to
face. Rarely in history had so gorgeous a scene of martial array been
witnessed. An October sun gilded the thousand beauties of an Ionian
landscape. Athens and Corinth were behind the combatants, the mountains
of Alexander's Macedon rose in the distance; the rock of Sappho and the
heights of Actium, were before their eyes. Since the day when the world
had been lost and won beneath that famous promontory, no such combat as
the one now approaching had been fought upon the waves. The chivalrous
young commander despatched energetic messages to his fellow chieftains,
and now that it was no longer possible to elude the encounter, the
martial ardor of the allies was kindled. The Venetian High-Admiral
replied with words of enthusiasm. Colonna, lieutenant of the league,
answered his chief in the language of St. Peter; "Though I die, yet will
I not deny thee."
The fleet was arranged in three divisions. The Ottomans, not drawn up in
crescent form, as usual, had the same triple disposition. Barbarigo and
the other Venetians commanded on the left, John Andrew Doria on the
right, while Don John himself and Colonna were in the centre, Crucifix in
hand, the High-Admiral rowed from ship to ship exhorting generals and
soldiers to show themselves worthy of a cause which he had persuaded
himself was holy. Fired by his eloquence and by the sight of the enemy,
his hearers answered with eager shouts, while Don John returned to his
ship; knelt upon the quarter-deck, and offered a prayer. He then ordered
the trumpets to sound the assault, commanded his sailing-master to lay
him alongside the Turkish Admiral, and the battle began. The Venetians,
who were first attacked, destroyed ship after ship of their assailants
after a close and obstinate contest, but Barliarigo fell dead ere the
sunset, with an arrow through his brain. Meantime the action,
immediately after the first onset, had become general. From noon till
evening the battle raged, with a carnage rarely recorded in history. Don
John's own ship lay yard-arm and yard-arm with the Turkish Admiral, and
exposed to the fire of seven large vessels besides. It was a day when
personal, audacity, not skilful tactics, was demanded, and the imperial
bastard showed the metal he was made of. The Turkish Admiral's ship was
destroyed, his head exposed from Don John's deck upon a pike, and the
trophy became the signal for a general panic and a complete victory. By
sunset the battle had been won.
Of nearly three hundred Turkish galleys, but fifty made their escape.
From twenty-five to thirty thousand Turks were slain, and perhaps ten
thousand Christians. The galley-slaves on both sides fought well, and
the only beneficial result of the victory was the liberation of several
thousand Christian captives. It is true that their liberty was purchased
with the lives of a nearly equal number of Christian soldiers, and by the
reduction to slavery of almost as many thousand Mussulmen, duly
distributed among the Christian victors. Many causes--contributed to
this splendid triumph. The Turkish ships, inferior in number, were also
worse manned than those of their adversaries; and their men were worse
armed. Every bullet of the Christians told on muslin turbans and
embroidered tunics, while the arrows of the Moslems fell harmless on the
casques and corslets of their foes. The Turks, too, had committed the
fatal error of fighting upon a lee shore. Having no sea room, and being
repelled in their first onset, many galleys were driven upon the rocks,
to be destroyed with all their crews.
[Cabrera says that thirty thousand Turks were slain, ten thousand
made prisoners, ten thousand Christians killed, and fifteen thousand
Christian prisoners liberated, ix. 693. De Thou's estimate is
twenty-five thousand Turks killed, three thousand prisoners, and ten
thousand Christians killed, vi. 247. Brantome states the number of
Turks killed at thirty thousand, without counting those who were
drowned or who died afterwards of their wounds; six thousand
prisoners, twelve thousand Christian prisoners liberated, and ten
thousand Christians killed. Hoofd, vi. 214, gives the figures at
twenty-five thousand Turks and ten thousand Christians slain. Bor,
v. 354, makes a minute estimate, on the authority of Pietro
Contareno, stating the number of Christians killed at seven thousand
six hundred and fifty, that of Turks at twenty-five thousand one
hundred and fifty, Turkish prisoners at three thousand eight hundred
and forty-six, and Christians liberated at twelve thousand; giving
the number of Turkish ships destroyed at eighty, captured fifty.
According to the "Relation cierta y verdadera," (which was drawn up
a few days after the action,) the number of Turks slain was thirty
thousand and upwards, besides many prisoners, that of Christians
killed was seven thousand, of Christian slaves liberated twelve
thousand, of Ottoman ships taken or destroyed two hundred and
thirty. Documentos Ineditos, iii. 249. Philip sent an express
order, forbidding the ransoming of even the captive officers. The
Turkish slaves were divided among the victors in the proportion of
one-half to Philip and one-half to the Pope and Venice. The other
booty was distributed on the same principle. Out of the Pope's
share Don John received, as a present, one hundred and seventy-four
slaves (Documentos Ineditos, iii. 229). Alexander of Parma
received thirty slaves; Requesens thirty. To each general of
infantry was assigned six slaves; to each colonel four; to each
ship's captain one. The number of "slaves in chains" (esclavos de
cadena) allotted to Philip was thirty-six hundred (Documentoa
Ineditos, 257). Seven thousand two hundred Turkish slaves,
therefore, at least, were divided among Christians. This number of
wretches, who were not fortunate enough to die with their twenty-
five thousand comrades, must be set off against the twelve thousand
Christian slaves liberated, in the general settlement of the account
with Humanity.]
But whatever the cause of the victory, its consequence was to spread the
name and fame of Don John of Austria throughout the world. Alva wrote,
with enthusiasm, to congratulate him; pronouncing the victory the most
brilliant one ever achieved by Christians, and Don John the greatest
general since the death of Julius Caesar. At the same time, with a
sarcastic fling at the erection of the Escorial, he advised Philip to
improve this new success in some more practical way than by building a
house for the Lord and a sepulchre for the dead. "If," said the Duke,
"the conquests of Spain be extended in consequence of this triumph, then,
indeed, will the Cherubim and Seraphim sing glory to God." A courier,
despatched post haste to Spain, bore the glorious news, together with
the, sacred, standard of the Prophet, the holy of holies, inscribed with
the name of Allah twenty-eight thousand nine hundred times, always kept
in Mecca during peace, and never since the conquest of Constantinople
lost in battle before. The King was at vespers in the Escorial.
Entering the sacred precincts, breathless, travel-stained, excited, the
messenger found Philip impassible as marble to the wondrous news. Not a
muscle of the royal visage was moved, not a syllable escaped the royal
lips, save a brief order to the clergy to continue the interrupted
vespers. When the service had been methodically concluded, the King made
known the intelligence and requested a Te Deum.
The youthful commander-in-chief obtained more than his full mead of
glory. No doubt he had fought with brilliant courage, yet in so close
and murderous a conflict, the valor of no single individual could decide
the day, and the result was due to the combined determination of all.
Had Don John remained at Naples, the issue might have easily been the
same. Barbarigo, who sealed the victory with his blood; Colonna, who
celebrated a solemn triumph on his return to Rome; Parma, Doria,
Giustiniani, Venieri, might each as well have claimed a monopoly of the
glory, had not the Pope, at Philip's entreaty, conferred the baton of
command upon Don John. The meagre result of the contest is as notorious
as the victory. While Constantinople was quivering with apprehension,
the rival generals were already wrangling with animosity. Had the
Christian fleet advanced, every soul would have fled from the capital,
but Providence had ordained otherwise, and Don John sailed westwardly
with his ships. He made a descent on the Barbary coast, captured Tunis,
destroyed Biserta, and brought King Amidas and his two sons prisoners to
Italy. Ordered by Philip to dismantle the fortifications of Tunis, he
replied by repairing them thoroughly, and by placing a strong garrison
within the citadel. Intoxicated with his glory, the young adventurer
already demanded a crown, and the Pope was disposed to proclaim him King
of Tunis, for the Queen of the Lybian seas was to be the capital of his
Empire, the new Carthage which he already dreamed.
Philip thought it time to interfere, for he felt that his own crown might
be insecure, with such a restless and ambitious spirit indulging in
possible and impossible chimeras. He removed John de Soto, who had been
Don John's chief councillor and emissary to the Pope, and substituted in
his place the celebrated and ill-starred Escovedo. The new secretary,
however, entered as heartily but secretly into all these romantic
schemes. Disappointed of the Empire which he had contemplated on the
edge of the African desert, the champion of the Cross turned to the cold
islands of the northern seas. There sighed, in captivity, the beauteous
Mary of Scotland, victim of the heretic Elizabeth. His susceptibility to
the charms of beauty--a characteristic as celebrated as his courage--was
excited, his chivalry aroused. What holier triumph for the conqueror of
the Saracens than the subjugation of these northern infidels? He would
dethrone the proud Elizabeth; he would liberate and espouse the Queen of
Scots, and together they would reign over, the two united realms.
All that the Pope could do with bulls and blessings, letters of
excommunication, and patents of investiture, he did with his whole heart.
Don John was at liberty to be King of England and Scotland as soon as he
liked; all that was left to do was to conquer the kingdoms.
Meantime, while these schemes were flitting through his brain, and were
yet kept comparatively secret by the Pope, Escovedo, and himself, the
news reached him in Italy that be had been appointed Governor-General of
the Netherlands. Nothing could be more opportune. In the provinces were
ten thousand veteran Spaniards, ripe for adventure, hardened by years of
warfare, greedy for gold, audacious almost beyond humanity, the very
instruments for his scheme. The times were critical in the Netherlands,
it was true; yet he would soon pacify those paltry troubles, and then
sweep forward to his prize. Yet events were rushing forward with such
feverish rapidity, that he might be too late for his adventure. Many
days were lost in the necessary journey from Italy into Spain to receive
the final instructions of the King. The news from the provinces, grew
more and more threatening. With the impetuosity and romance of his
temperament, he selected his confidential friend Ottavio Gonzaga, six
men-at-arms, and an adroit and well-experienced Swiss courier who knew
every road of France. It was no light adventure for the Catholic
Governor-General of the Netherlands to traverse the kingdom at that
particular juncture. Staining his bright locks and fair face to the
complexion of a Moor, he started on his journey, attired as the servant
of Gonzaga. Arriving at Paris, after a rapid journey, he descended at a
hostelry opposite the residence of the Spanish ambassador, Don Diego de
Cuniga. After nightfall he had a secret interview with that functionary,
and learning, among other matters, that there was to be a great ball that
night at the Louvre, he determined to go thither in disguise. There,
notwithstanding his hurry, he had time to see and to become desperately
enamored of "that wonder of beauty," the fair and frail Margaret of
Valois, Queen of Navarre. Her subsequent visit to her young adorer at
Namur, to be recorded in a future page of this history, was destined to
mark the last turning point in his picturesque career. On his way to the
Netherlands he held a rapid interview with the Duke of Guise, to arrange
his schemes for the liberation and espousal of that noble's kinswoman,
the Scottish Queen; and on the 3rd of November he arrived at Luxemburg.
There stood the young conqueror of Lepanto, his brain full of schemes,
his heart full of hopes, on the threshhold of the Netherlands, at the
entrance to what he believed the most brilliant chapter of his life--
schemes, hopes, and visions--doomed speedily to fade before the cold
reality with which he was to be confronted. Throwing off his disguise
after reaching Luxemburg, the youthful paladin stood confessed. His
appearance was as romantic as his origin and his exploits. Every
contemporary chronicler, French, Spanish, Italian, Flemish, Roman, have
dwelt upon his personal beauty and the singular fascination of his
manner. Symmetrical features, blue eyes of great vivacity, and a
profusion of bright curling hair, were combined with a person not much
above middle height; but perfectly well proportioned. Owing to a natural
peculiarity of his head, the hair fell backward from the temples, and he
had acquired the habit of pushing it from his brows. The custom became a
fashion among the host of courtiers, who were but too happy to glass
themselves in so brilliant a mirror. As Charles the Fifth, on his
journey to Italy to assume the iron crown, had caused his hair to be
clipped close, as a remedy for the headaches with which, at that
momentous epoch, he was tormented, bringing thereby close shaven polls
into extreme fashion; so a mass of hair pushed backward from the temples,
in the style to which the name of John of Austria was appropriated,
became the prevailing mode wherever the favorite son of the Emperor
appeared.
Such was the last crusader whom the annals of chivalry were to know; the
man who had humbled the crescent as it had not been humbled since the
days of the Tancreds, the Baldwins, the Plantagenets--yet, after all,
what was this brilliant adventurer when weighed against the tranquil
Christian champion whom he was to meet face to face? The contrast was
striking between the real and the romantic hero. Don John had pursued
and achieved glory through victories with which the world was ringing;
William was slowly compassing a country's emancipation through a series
of defeats. He moulded a commonwealth and united hearts with as much
contempt for danger as Don John had exhibited in scenes of slave driving
and carnage. Amid fields of blood, and through web's of tortuous
intrigue, the brave and subtle son of the Emperor pursued only his own
objects. Tawdry schemes of personal ambition, conquests for his own
benefit, impossible crowns for his own wearing, were the motives which
impelled, him, and the prizes which he sought. His existence was
feverish, fitful, and passionate. "Tranquil amid the raging billows,"
according to his favorite device, the father of his country waved aside
the diadem which for him had neither charms nor meaning. Their
characters were as contrasted as their persons. The curled-darling of
chivalry seemed a youth at thirty-one. Spare of figure, plain in
apparel, benignant, but haggard of countenance, with temples bared by
anxiety as much as by his helmet, earnest, almost devout in manner, in
his own words, "Calvus et Calvinists," William of Orange was an old man
at forty-three.
Perhaps there was as much good faith on the part of Don John, when
he arrived in Luxemburg, as could be expected of a man coming directly
from the cabinet of Philip. The King had secretly instructed him to
conciliate the provinces, but to concede nothing, for the Governor was
only a new incarnation of the insane paradox that benignity and the
system of Charles the Fifth were one. He was directed to restore the
government, to its state during the imperial epoch. Seventeen provinces,
in two of which the population were all dissenters, in all of which the
principle of mutual toleration had just been accepted by Catholics and
Protestants, were now to be brought back to the condition according to
which all Protestants were beheaded, burned, or buried alive. So that
the Inquisition, the absolute authority of the monarch, and the exclusive
worship of the Roman Church were preserved intact, the King professed
himself desirous of "extinguishing the fires of rebellion, and of saving
the people from the last desperation." With these slight exceptions,
Philip was willing to be very benignant. "More than this," said he,
"cannot and ought not be conceded." To these brief but pregnant
instructions was added a morsel of advice, personal in its nature,
but very characteristic of the writer. Don John was recommended to take
great care of his soul, and also to be very cautious in the management of
his amours.
Thus counselled and secretly directed, the new Captain-General had been
dismissed to the unhappy Netherlands. The position, however, was
necessarily false. The man who was renowned for martial exploits, and
notoriously devoured by ambition, could hardly inspire deep confidence in
the pacific dispositions of the government. The crusader of Granada and
Lepanto, the champion of the ancient Church, was not likely to please the
rugged Zealanders who had let themselves be hacked to pieces rather than
say one Paternoster, and who had worn crescents in their caps at Leyden,
to prove their deeper hostility to the Pope than to the Turk. The
imperial bastard would derive but alight consideration from his paternal
blood, in a country where illegitimate birth was more unfavorably
regarded than in most other countries, and where a Brabantine edict,
recently issued in name of the King; deprived ail political or civil
functionaries not born in wedlock; of their offices. Yet he had
received instructions, at his departure, to bring about a pacification,
if possible, always maintaining, however, the absolute authority of the
crown and the exclusive exercise of the Catholic religion. How the two
great points of his instructions were to be made entirely palatable, was
left to time and chance. There was a vague notion that with the new
Governor's fame, fascinating manners, and imperial parentage, he might
accomplish a result which neither fraud nor force--not the arts of
Granvelle, nor the atrocity of Alva, nor the licentiousness of a
buccaneering soldiery had been able to effect. As for Don John himself,
he came with no definite plans for the Netherlanders, but with very
daring projects of his own, and to pursue these misty visions was his
main business on arriving in the provinces. In the meantime he was
disposed to settle the Netherland difficulty in some showy, off-hand
fashion, which should cost him but little trouble, and occasion no
detriment to the cause of Papacy or absolutism. Unfortunately for
these rapid arrangements, William of Orange was in Zealand, and the
Pacification had just been signed at Ghent.
It was, naturally, with very little satisfaction that the Prince beheld
the arrival of Don John. His sagacious combinations would henceforth be
impeded, if not wholly frustrated. This he foresaw. He knew that there
could be no intention of making any arrangement in which Holland and
Zealand could be included. He was confident that any recognition of the
Reformed religion was as much out of the question now as ever. He
doubted not that there were many Catholic magnates, wavering politicians,
aspirants for royal favor, who would soon be ready to desert the cause
which had so recently been made a general cause, and who would soon be
undermining the work of their own hands. The Pacification of Ghent would
never be maintained in letter and spirit by the vicegerent of Philip; for
however its sense might be commented upon or perverted, the treaty, while
it recognized Catholicism as the state religion, conceded, to a certain
extent, liberty of conscience. An immense stride had been taken, by
abolishing the edicts, and prohibiting persecution. If that step were
now retraced, the new religion was doomed, and the liberties of Holland
and Zealand destroyed. "If they make an arrangement with Don John, it
will be for us of the religion to run," wrote the Prince to his brother,
"for their intention is to suffer no person of that faith to have a
fixed domicile in the Netherlands." It was, therefore, with a calm
determination to counteract and crush the policy of the youthful Governor
that William the Silent awaited his antagonist. Were Don John admitted
to confidence, the peace of Holland and Zealand was gone. Therefore
it was necessary to combat him both openly and secretly--by loud
remonstrance and by invisible stratagem. What chance had the impetuous
and impatient young hero in such an encounter with the foremost statesman
of the age? He had arrived, with all the self-confidence of a conqueror;
he did not know that he was to be played upon like a pipe--to be caught
in meshes spread by his own hands--to struggle blindly--to rage
impotently--to die ingloriously.
The Prince had lost no time in admonishing the states-general as to the
course which should now be pursued. He was of opinion that, upon their
conduct at this crisis depended the future destinies of the Netherlands.
"If we understand how to make proper use of the new Governor's arrival,"
said he, "it may prove very advantageous to us; if not, it will be the
commencement of our total ruin." The spirit of all his communications
was to infuse the distrust which he honestly felt, and which he certainly
took no pains to disguise; to impress upon his countrymen the importance
of improving the present emergency by the enlargement, instead of the
threatened contraction of their liberties, and to enforce with all his
energy the necessity of a firm union. He assured the estates that Don
John had been sent, in this simple manner, to the country, because the
King and cabinet had begun to despair of carrying their point by force.
At the same time he warned them that force would doubtless be replaced
by fraud. He expressed his conviction that so soon as Don John should
attain the ascendency which he had been sent to secure, the gentleness
which now smiled upon the surface would give place to the deadlier
purposes which lurked below. He went so far as distinctly to recommend
the seizure of Don John's person. By so doing, much bloodshed might be
saved; for such was the King's respect for the Emperor's son that their
demands would be granted rather than that his liberty should be
permanently endangered. In a very striking and elaborate letter which
he addressed from Middelburg to the estates-general, he insisted on the
expediency of seizing the present opportunity in order to secure and to
expand their liberties, and urged them to assert broadly the principle
that the true historical polity of the Netherlands was a representative,
constitutional government, Don John, on arriving at Luxemburg, had
demanded hostages for his own security, a measure which could not but
strike the calmest spectator as an infraction of all provincial rights.
"He asks you to disarm," continued William of Orange; "he invites you to
furnish hostages, but the time has been when the lord of the land came
unarmed and uncovered, before the estates-general, and swore to support
the constitutions before his own sovereignty could be recognized."
He reiterated his suspicions as to the honest intentions of the
government, and sought, as forcibly as possible, to infuse an equal
distrust into the minds of those he addressed. "Antwerp," said he,
"once the powerful and blooming, now the most forlorn and desolate city
of Christendom, suffered because she dared to exclude the King's troops.
You may be sure that you are all to have a place at the same banquet.
We may forget the past, but princes never forget, when the means of
vengeance are placed within their hands. Nature teaches them to arrive
at their end by fraud, when violence will not avail them. Like little
children, they whistle to the birds they would catch. Promises and
pretences they will furnish in plenty."
He urged them on no account to begin any negotiation with the Governor,
except on the basis of the immediate departure of the soldiery. "Make no
agreement with him; unless the Spanish and other foreign troops have been
sent away beforehand; beware, meantime, of disbanding your own, for that
were to put the knife into his hands to cut your own throats withal."
He then proceeded to sketch the out lines of a negotiation, such as he
could recommend. The plan was certainly sufficiently bold, and it could
hardly cause astonishment, if it were not immediately accepted by Don
John; as the basis of an arrangement. "Remember this is not play", said
the Prince, "and that you have to choose between the two, either total
ruin or manly self-defence. Don John must command the immediate
departure of the Spaniards. All our privileges must be revised, and an
oath to maintain them required. New councils of state and finance must
be appointed by the estates. The general assembly ought to have power to
come together twice or thrice yearly, and, indeed, as often as they
choose. The states-general must administer and regulate all affairs.
The citadels must be demolished everywhere. No troops ought to be
enlisted, nor garrisons established, without the consent of the estates."
In all the documents, whether public memorials or private letters, which
came at this period from the hand of the Prince, he assumed, as a matter
of course, that in any arrangement with the new Governor the Pacification
of Ghent was to be maintained. This, too, was the determination of
almost every man in the country. Don John, soon after his arrival at
Luxemburg, had despatched messengers to the states-general, informing
them of his arrival. It was not before the close of the month of
November that the negotiations seriously began. Provost Fonck, on the
part of the Governor, then informed them of Don John's intention to enter
Namur, attended by fifty mounted troopers. Permission, however, was
resolutely refused, and the burghers of Namur were forbidden to render
oaths of fidelity until the Governor should have complied with the
preliminary demands of the estates. To enunciate these demands
categorically, a deputation of the estates-general came to Luxemburg.
These gentlemen were received with courtesy by Don John, but their own
demeanour was not conciliatory. A dislike to the Spanish government;
a disloyalty to the monarch with whose brother and representative they
were dealing, pierced through all their language. On the other hand,
the ardent temper of Don John was never slow to take offence. One of the
deputies proposed to the Governor, with great coolness, that he should
assume the government in his own name, and renounce the authority of
Philip. Were he willing to do so, the patriotic gentleman pledged
himself that the provinces would at once acknowledge him as sovereign,
and sustain his government. Don John, enraged at the insult to his own
loyalty which the proposition implied, drew his dagger and rushed towards
the offender. The deputy would, probably, have paid for his audacity
with his life had there not been by-standers enough to prevent the
catastrophe. This scene was an unsatisfactory prelude to the opening
negotiations.
On the 6th of December the deputies presented to the Governor at
Luxemburg a paper, containing their demands, drawn up in eight articles,
and their concessions in ten. The states insisted on the immediate
removal of the troops, with the understanding that they were never to
return, but without prohibition of their departure by sea; they demanded
the immediate release of all prisoners; they insisted on the maintenance
of the Ghent treaty, there being nothing therein which did not tend to
the furtherance of the Catholic religion; they claimed an act of amnesty;
they required the convocation of the states-general, on the basis of that
assembly before which took place the abdication of Charles the Fifth;
they demanded an oath, on the part of Don John, to maintain all the
charters and customs of the country.
Should these conditions be complied: with, the deputies consented on the
part of the estates, that he should be acknowledged as Governor, and that
the Catholic religion and the authority of his Majesty should be
maintained. They agreed that all foreign leagues should be renounced,
their own foreign soldiery disbanded, and a guard of honor, native
Netherlanders, such as his Majesty was contented with at his "Blythe
Entrance," provided. A truce of fifteen days, for negotiations, was
furthermore proposed.
Don John made answers to these propositions by adding a brief comment,
as apostille, upon each of the eighteen articles, in succession. He
would send away the troops, but, at the same time, the states must
disband their own. He declined engaging himself not to recal his foreign
soldiery, should necessity require their service. With regard to the
Ghent Pacification, he professed himself ready for a general peace
negotiation, on condition that the supremacy of the Catholic Church
and the authority of his Majesty were properly secured. He would settle
upon some act of amnesty after due consultation with the State Council.
He was willing that the states should be convoked in general assembly,
provided sufficient security were given him that nothing should be there
transacted prejudicial to the Catholic religion and the King's
sovereignty. As for their privileges, he would govern as had been done
in the time of his imperial father. He expressed his satisfaction with
most of the promises offered by the estates, particularly with their
expression in favor of the Church and of his Majesty's authority; the
two all-important points to secure which he had come thither unattended,
at the peril of his life, but he received their offer of a body-guard,
by which his hirelings were to be superseded, with very little gratitude.
He was on the point, he said, of advancing as far as Marche en Famine,
and should take with him as strong a guard as he considered necessary,
and composed of such troops as he had at hand. Nothing decisive came of
this first interview. The parties had taken the measures of their mutual
claims, and after a few days, fencing with apostilles, replies, and
rejoinders, they separated, their acrimony rather inflamed than appeased.
The departure of the troops and the Ghent treaty were the vital points in
the negotiation. The estates had originally been content that the troops
should go by sea. Their suspicions were, however, excited by the
pertinacity with which Don John held to this mode of removal. Although
they did not suspect the mysterious invasion of England, a project which
was the real reason why the Governor objected to their departure by land,
yet they soon became aware--that he had been secretly tampering with the
troops at every point. The effect of these secret negotiations with the
leading officers of the army was a general expression of their
unwillingness, on account of the lateness of the season, the difficult
and dangerous condition of the roads and mountain-passes, the plague in
Italy, and other pretexts, to undertake so long a journey by land. On
the other hand, the states, seeing the anxiety and the duplicity of Don
John upon this particular point, came to the resolution to thwart him at
all hazards, and insisted on the land journey. Too long a time, too much
money, too many ships would be necessary, they said, to forward so large
a force by sea, and in the meantime it would be necessary to permit them
to live for another indefinite period at the charge of the estates.
With regard to the Ghent Pacification, the estates, in the course of
December, procured: an express opinion from the eleven professors of
theology, and doctors utriusque juris of Louvain, that the treaty
contained nothing which conflicted with the supremacy of the Catholic
religion. The various bishops, deacons, abbots, and pastors of the
Netherlands made a similar decision. An elaborate paper, drawn, up by
the State-Council, at the request of the states-general, declared that
there was nothing in the Pacification derogatory to the supreme authority
of his Majesty. Thus fortified; with opinions which, it must be
confessed, were rather dogmatically than argumentatively drawn up,
and which it would have been difficult very logically to, defend,
the states looked forward confidently to the eventual acceptance by Don
John of the terms proposed. In the meantime, while there was still an
indefinite pause in the negotiations, a remarkable measure came to aid
the efficacy of the Ghent Pacification.