MARGARET OF PARMA
The Governess of the Netherlands, Margaret, daughter of the late Emperor
and wife of Ottavio Farnese, Duke of Parma, sat in her chair of state in
the small chamber leading to the council room, and before her were the
three Netherland nobles who were the avowed enemies of Granvelle, and
who had complained so long and haughtily that they were no longer
consulted and that the Regent took advice solely from the Cardinal and
his creatures, Barlaymont, President of the Council of Finance, and
Viglius, President of the Privy Council.
Margaret favoured the Cardinal; he had an immense influence over her,
and she knew him to be as deep in her brother Philip's counsels as his
father had been for thirty years in those of the Emperor; but the
situation in the Netherlands was increasingly difficult, and she dared
not alienate men of such importance as the three that were before her
now—the brilliant Egmont, victor of Gravelines and St. Quentin; Hoorne,
Admiral of Flanders; and Orange, the most powerful of the Princes and
Stadtholders in the States.
She sat now erect and a little drawn back against the burnished leather
of her seat, rather in the attitude of one at bay. Her presence was
majestic and graceful, with something of the commanding fascination
which had made her father so popular; but the Flemish blood of her
commoner mother told too—she lacked refinement and softness; her
features were bold and haughty, her brow heavy, her upper lip shaded
with dark hair; her hands were large and strong, and seemed ill-adapted
for the embroidery they now held; indeed, her most notable
accomplishment was horsemanship, as it had been that of her aunt, the
former Regent, Mary of Hungary.
Her attire of gold brocade and black velvet, stiff cap and flowing veil
of black tissue folded over her shoulders, was more rich than tasteful;
she wore no jewellery nor adornments, for she affected a masculine
strength of character and disdain of detail.
Her needle went in and out of the embroidery; but the work was largely a
pretence, and the flower she was making was stitched false, for her full
brown eyes were continually glancing from one to the other of the three
before her. Count Hoorne was speaking; in words slow but full of intense
feeling he was putting before her the nobles' case against the Cardinal.
The Admiral stood by the pointed window on which gleamed the arms of
Brabant in the leaded glass—a grave and gloomy figure, dark and careless
in attire, with a haughty and rather sad face, brooding eyes, a
discontented brow, and black fan-shaped beard.
Standing behind him, leaning against a side table covered with a small
cloth of Persia, was Lamoral Egmont, the famous soldier, the popular
grandee, Knight of the Golden Fleece, Stadtholder of Brabant and Artois.
Half his exceptional popularity he owed to his unusual good looks, his
beautiful head with the brown curls carried so splendidly, his soldier's
figure tall and strong, his noble port, the brilliancy of his attire.
His silk and brocades, jewels and gold, showed the more gorgeous now in
contrast with Hoorne.
Leaning against the wall near him was the Prince of Orange; he had a
quiet air, and his head was bent forward on his ruff. He was not so
magnificent as Egmont, though his appointments were very splendid.
And always Margaret's eyes were flashing up covertly from her sewing and
measuring the sombre proud speaker, the gorgeous grandee behind him, and
that third figure with the bent head.
Hoorne finished at length, bowed to the Regent, and looked at his
colleagues.
"You bring very vague accusations, princely count," said Margaret. Her
voice was heavy and she spoke haltingly, for she was at ease with no
language save Italian. "It would seem that there is nothing against the
Cardinal but private spites and malices."
"There is against him," replied Lamoral Egmont, "that he usurps our
place in the Council, as we have endeavoured to show Your Royal Grace."
The embroidery trembled in Margaret's fingers. "You blame him for much
that he has not done," she said "as, the bishoprics."
"Do you tell us," cried Hoorne impetuously, "that the Cardinal did not
urge these bishoprics at Rome?"
"Nay," replied the Duchess. "They were intended in the Emperor's
time—before I, or the Cardinal, came to the Netherlands."
"At least he enforces them and enjoys the finest," persisted Hoorne,
unconvinced.
Margaret lifted her bold eyes; they were angry eyes now.
"He enforces them," she said, "because it is His Majesty's wish, and the
Cardinal is loyal—I would all were as he! And why are these bishoprics
so odious? Methinks they should be comforting to good Catholics"—she
darted a sharp glance at the Prince of Orange—"since they are designed
to strengthen the ancient faith and rout out heresy."
"They are designed to support and spread the Inquisition," replied
Hoorne bluntly, "and that is a thing odious to these States."
"The Spanish Inquisition shall not be introduced," answered Margaret.
"That has been promised."
"There is no need to introduce it," said the Admiral dryly. "The
Inquisition of the Netherlands is more severe."
"The people will not take it, indeed they will not," said the
Stadtholder of Brabant earnestly. "As witness the disturbances, riots,
and revolts at Titelmann's executions."
"We are not talking of the people," replied the Regent, with bitter
vexation, "nor of their grievances, but of the great lords who foster
all this sedition, and seem to have a marvellous sympathy for heretics."
"We have a marvellous respect for the charters and privileges of the
States which are in our keeping," said the Prince of Orange, "and which
the Inquisition utterly defies and overrules."
Tears of vexation sprang into Margaret's eyes; more than either of the
other two was this Prince vexatious to her.
"Ah, Prince," she said, "we know your dispositions. You hide yourself
behind the States, behind charters and privileges; but, as my brother
said in the matter of the Spanish troops, it is not the States, but
you—and I perceive it, never believe but that I perceive it."
William very slightly smiled.
"I have never failed in duty to the King," he replied, "nor loyalty to
the Church. And in protesting against the Cardinal and his measures, I
do believe, Madame, that I serve the best interests of both."
"It is well," said Margaret bitterly, "for you to speak of loyalty to
the Church when your palace shelters heretics and you have a Lutheran
wife."
"I had His Majesty's consent to my marriage," said William quietly.
"A reluctant one," returned the Regent, "and His Majesty is still not
pleased that you should choose the daughter of the Elector Maurice—but
that is past," she added sharply, then, with a thrust at the daughter of
the man who had humiliated her father, "though we think the match still
imprudent, and marvel at it more than formerly."
William received this reference to his wife with courteous indifference,
and Margaret continued with raised voice, the deep colour mounting to
her hard face and the embroidery lying forgotten on her lap.
"Methinks it would be more dutiful and fitting if you offered to help me
with your advices and influences instead of filling my ears with
complaints of the only man who is useful to me."
Lamoral Egmont drew his magnificent person erect.
"We have no opportunity of aiding Your Grace," he said, "since we have
been excluded so long from your Councils."
Margaret trembled with anger.
"What do you want of me?" she asked, driven to desperation.
That was too complex a matter for either the Prince of Orange or Count
Hoorne to commit themselves to, but Lamoral Egmont, who was neither
cautious nor wise, answered instantly—
"The withdrawal of Cardinal Granvelle from the Netherlands."
The Duchess rose in her agitation, sweeping her needlework to the
ground.
"Ho, you ask no little thing of me!" she cried in her indignation. "How
think you the King would take that request?"
"Let Your Grace make it," replied the Stadtholder of Brabant, with a
touch of insolence. "And, while we wait an answer from Madrid, let Your
Grace counsel the Cardinal to comport himself with less overbearing
arrogance."
"Arrogance!" flashed Margaret. "What of the Count Brederode, who
nightly, when in drink, sports Cardinal's attire at some public mask,
and mocks and flouts His Eminence with huge indecency? What of the
pasquils that reach my very closet and are thrust under the Cardinal's
pillow? What of these vile rhetoric plays which no punishment can stop
and which jeer at all holy things?"
"We know none of any of this," declared Hoorne, with rising anger.
"Henry Brederode is not my charge," said Egmont, "nor do I control his
frolics."
Margaret stopped short before him.
"What of the fox-tails in your own cap?" she asked. "You wear them
openly in the street. Do you think that I do not know of these things?"
The Prince of Orange here interposed.
"If the bishoprics and the Inquisition, the ancient placards and edicts,
are to be forced on the people, there is no chance of the States passing
the new taxes."
These words instantly brought the Regent to the practical part of the
matter, and affected her more than any of the proud speeches of Egmont
and Hoorne. The finances of the Netherlands were in a miserable
condition. Philip was always demanding money, being continually
embarrassed himself, and Margaret feared for her prestige, if not for
her position, if she could not supply it; and cordially as she agreed
with her brother's proposal to exterminate all heresy in his dominions,
and greatly as she admired Granvelle's plans to carry the Royal wishes
into effect, she was shrewd enough to see that the Prince had pointed
out a real difficulty, and one that she had lately been acutely
conscious of.
At the same time, she disliked the Prince bitterly for calling her
attention to this stumbling-block.
"Do you threaten disobedience—rebellion?" she asked.
"I threaten nothing," replied William, looking at her calmly. "I speak
of what I know of the States. The Stadtholders will not enforce the
Inquisition, the people will not submit to it. Rebellion? Who knows? The
provinces have revolted before, Madame, against the House of Hapsburg."
Margaret was silent, her eyes narrowed with anger. Her sincere
convictions were with the Cardinal. As an ardent Catholic, she loathed
the heretics; as a grateful subject of her brother, she wished to obey
his wishes. She was loyal, industrious, and ambitious to render a good
account of her charge. She believed the men before her, and those whom
they represented, to be greedy, jealous self-seekers, and she despised
them as mere worldly courtiers; but to the Prince of Orange's argument
she was obliged to listen. She was shrewd enough to see that these men
knew the Netherlanders as neither she, Philip, nor Granvelle did; and
she respected the abilities of the Prince of Orange.
She stood eyeing them all; her hand on her hip, her head well up.
"We cannot obey His Majesty in both things," continued William. "We
cannot enforce the edicts and raise the revenues."
Margaret knew this to be so true that she controlled her choler, though
her eyes were bright with anger.
"The placards will not be enforced," she replied. "His Majesty waits the
decision of the Council of Trent—if that allow a certain latitude to
heretics, His Majesty will obey."
"If not?" asked William.
The Duchess flung out her hands with a gesture of annoyance and
desperation.
"How do I know what the King will do? I am here to execute his orders. I
can but ask that the Inquisitors deal gently until some decision is
known."
The three grandees took this as a concession, almost a confession of
defeat on the part of Margaret, as it indeed was; nothing but a deep
sense of the difficulties and perils of her position could have wrung
such words from her.
"And Your Grace will advise moderation to the Cardinal?" asked William,
taking up his hat.
"Do that errand yourself, noble Prince, since you are responsible,"
replied the Regent keenly.
William unexpectedly laughed, and turned his charming face with a gay
look of amusement towards the angry lady.
"Truly I will," he said. "His Eminence and I used to know each other
well, and I cannot think that old friendship worn so thin that he would
refuse me an hour's hospitality at La Fontaine."
Margaret saw that she had been betrayed into an imprudence.
"Do what you will," she said, "but on your own authority."
"Your Grace is vexed," remarked Hoorne, "but we have done nothing but
our plain duty."
"God grant Your Grace may come to see it so," added the courteous
Egmont.
"And may He set great prudence and clemency in your heart, Madame," said
the Prince, still smiling, "for we stand on the edge of chance, and may
easily mis-tread."
Margaret dismissed them as haughtily as she dared, and as soon as they
had gone sat down to write an agitated letter to Philip, full of the
obstinacy of the Netherlands, the insolence of the grandees, the
impossibility of obtaining money, and the virtues of the much-abused
Cardinal.
The three grandees mounted and rode along the city heights where their
homes lay among pleasant parks and beautiful gardens; as they ascended
the steep, winding streets they could look back at the town lying in the
hollow, ornate and gorgeous, proud and serene beneath them.
The twin towers of Saint Gudule rose majestically from above the
clustered house roofs, below them soared the immense spire of the Town
Hall, and in the blue cloudiness and golden light of the late summer
afternoon dozens of gilt weathercocks swung in the gentle breeze and
glittered in the sun, and in and out of the crevices of the gables
flashed the white wings of innumerable pigeons.
The Prince of Orange glanced often at this prospect of the fair town;
but Lamoral Egmont's eyes were for the bending knee and lowered head of
passers-by, the curtsies of women spinning at the doors, the bright eyes
of maidens peeping with admiration from behind the chequered casement
blinds; and the Admiral's gaze was straight before him, as if he saw
nothing.
"Think you the Regent meant what she said?" he asked at length.
"I think she was frightened," said the Stadtholder of Brabant.
"She is not a clever woman," remarked the Prince of Orange. He turned
his head stiffly in the great ruff and smiled at Hoorne. "I think she
will render an ill account of her charge. She grows more confused every
day."
"Why did His Majesty send a woman at all?" complained Hoorne fiercely.
"Because he wanted one not too strong," replied William. "It were wise
to endeavour to restrain Brederode," he added. "His jests against the
Cardinal are very daring, and may involve us all."
"Who is to argue with Brederode?" asked Egmont. "He and De la Marck are
beyond all reason; and if their jests vex Granvelle, I am not the man to
stop them."
"Granvelle smiles at jests; there are better ways to discomfit him than
the drunken frolics of Brederode," returned William.
The conversation ceased, for they had entered a narrow street where
their voices could easily be heard. Their talk turned on falconry.
"I wish I could get away for a while," said William. "The Elector gave
me the prettiest hunting dog, as white as snow, and I would very
willingly try him in the campaign. If I am to be ruined by the
falconers, I would use them!" he laughed.
"Herr Jesus! how they cost!" sighed Lamoral Egmont, who was even deeper
in debt than the Prince. "Never were the ducats so hard to come by,
never were they so much needed."
"Granvelle has the ducats," broke out Hoorne, regardless of prudence.
"The abbeys, benefices, and plunder that have come his way would set us
all at ease."
And the Admiral's swarthy face darkened with wrath and jealousy; indeed,
Granvelle's persistent greed, and the lavish manner in which Philip
satisfied it, was the chief reason of the hatred in which the nobles
held the Cardinal, as his supposed patronage of the bishoprics and the
Inquisition was the chief reason for the hatred of the people.
William lifted his brows and smiled meaningly; Lamoral Egmont shrugged
his shoulders as if he could not bear to consider the subject.
And so they went their way slowly, their equipments shining in the sun.
The children ran to the doors to look after them, and the women
whispered, "There go the two Stadtholders and the Admiral! Look what
splendid princes they are!"