residence in the Netherlands, was enabled to spread a canvas before his
sovereign's eye, in which certain prominent figures, highly colored by
patiently accumulated touches, were represented as driving a whole
nation, against its own will, into manifest revolt. The estates and the
people, he said, were already tired of the proceedings of the nobles, and
those personages would find themselves very much mistaken in thinking
that men who had any thing to lose would follow them, when they began a
rebellion against his Majesty. On the whole, he was not desirous of
prolonging his own residence, although, to do him justice, he was not
influenced by fear. He thought or affected to think that the situation
was one of a factitious popular discontent, procured by the intrigues of
a few ambitious and impoverished Catilines and Cethegi, not a rising
rebellion such as the world had never seen, born of the slowly-awakened
wrath of, a whole people, after the martyrdom of many years. The remedy
that he recommended was that his Majesty should come in person to the
provinces. The monarch would cure the whole disorder as soon as he
appeared, said the Cardinal, by merely making the sign of the cross.
Whether, indeed, the rapidly-increasing cancer of national discontent
would prove a mere king's evil, to be healed by the royal touch, as many
persons besides Granvelle believed, was a point not doomed to be tested.
From that day forward Philip began to hold out hopes that he would come
to administer the desired remedy, but even then it was the opinion of
good judges that he would give millions rather than make his appearance
in the Netherlands. It was even the hope of William of Orange that the
King would visit the provinces. He expressed his desire, in a letter to
Lazarus Schwendi, that his sovereign should come in person, that he might
see whether it had been right to sow so much distrust between himself and
his loyal subjects. The Prince asserted that it was impossible for any
person not on the spot to imagine the falsehoods and calumnies circulated
by Granvelle and his friends, accusing Orange and his associates of
rebellion and heresy, in the most infamous manner in the world. He
added, in conclusion, that he could write no more, for the mere thought
of the manner in which the government of the Netherlands was carried on
filled him with disgust and rage. This letter, together with one in a
similar strain from Egmont, was transmitted by the valiant and highly
intellectual soldier to whom they were addressed, to the King of Spain,
with an entreaty that he would take warning from the bitter truths which
they contained. The Colonel, who was a most trusty friend of Orange,
wrote afterwards to Margaret of Parma in the same spirit, warmly urging
her to moderation in religious matters. This application highly enraged
Morillon, the Cardinal's most confidential dependent, who accordingly
conveyed the intelligence to his already departed chief, exclaiming in
his letter, "what does the ungrateful baboon mean by meddling with our
affairs? A pretty state of things, truly, if kings are to choose or
retain their ministers at the will of the people; little does he know of
the disasters which would be caused by a relaxation of the edicts."
In the same sense, the Cardinal, just before his departure, which was now
imminent, wrote to warn his sovereign of the seditious character of the
men who were then placing their breasts between the people and their
butchers. He assured Philip that upon the movement of those nobles
depended the whole existence of the country. It was time that they
should be made to open their eyes. They should be solicited in every way
to abandon their evil courses, since the liberty which they thought
themselves defending was but abject slavery; but subjection to a thousand
base and contemptible personages, and to that "vile animal called the
people."
It is sufficiently obvious, from the picture which we have now presented
of the respective attitudes of Granvelle, of the seigniors and of the
nation, during the whole of the year 1563, and the beginning of the
following year, that a crisis was fast approaching. Granvelle was, for
the moment, triumphant, Orange, Egmont, and Horn had abandoned the state
council, Philip could not yet make up his mind to yield to the storm,
and Alva howled defiance at the nobles and the whole people of the
Netherlands. Nevertheless, Margaret of Parma was utterly weary of the
minister, the Cardinal himself was most anxious to be gone, and the
nation--for there was a nation, however vile the animal might be--was
becoming daily more enraged at the presence of a man in whom, whether
justly or falsely, it beheld the incarnation of the religious oppression
under which they groaned. Meantime, at the close of the year, a new
incident came to add to the gravity of the situation. Caspar Schetz,
Baron of Grobbendonck, gave a Great dinner-party, in the month of
December, 1563. This personage, whose name was prominent for many years
in the public affairs of the nation, was one of the four brothers who
formed a very opulent and influential mercantile establishment.
He was the King's principal factor and financial agent. He was one of
the great pillars of the Bourse at Antwerp. He was likewise a tolerable
scholar, a detestable poet, an intriguing politician, and a corrupt
financier. He was regularly in the pay of Sir Thomas Gresham, to whom he
furnished secret information, for whom he procured differential favors,
and by whose government he was rewarded by gold chains and presents of
hard cash, bestowed as secretly as the equivalent was conveyed adroitly.
Nevertheless, although his venality was already more than suspected, and
although his peculation, during his long career became so extensive that
he was eventually prosecuted by government, and died before the process
was terminated, the lord of Grobbendonck was often employed in most
delicate negotiations, and, at the present epoch, was a man of much
importance in the Netherlands.
The treasurer-general accordingly gave his memorable banquet to a
distinguished party of noblemen. The conversation, during dinner,
turned, as was inevitable, upon the Cardinal. His ostentation,
greediness, insolence, were fully canvassed. The wine flowed freely as
it always did in those Flemish festivities--the brains of the proud and
reckless cavaliers became hot with excitement, while still the odious
ecclesiastic was the topic of their conversation, the object alternately
of fierce invective or of scornful mirth. The pompous display which he
affected in his equipages, liveries, and all the appurtenances of his
household, had frequently excited their derision, and now afforded fresh
matter for their ridicule. The customs of Germany, the simple
habiliments in which the retainers of the greatest houses were arrayed
in that country, were contrasted with the tinsel and glitter in which the
prelate pranked himself. It was proposed, by way of showing contempt for
Granvelle, that a livery should be forthwith invented, as different as
possible from his in general effect, and that all the gentlemen present
should indiscriminately adopt it for their own menials. Thus would the
people whom the Cardinal wished to dazzle with his finery learn to
estimate such gauds at their true value. It was determined that
something extremely plain, and in the German fashion, should be selected.
At the same time, the company, now thoroughly inflamed with wine, and
possessed by the spirit of mockery, determined that a symbol should be
added to the livery, by which the universal contempt for Granvelle should
be expressed. The proposition was hailed with acclamation, but who
should invent the hieroglyphical costume? All were reckless and ready
enough, but ingenuity of device was required. At last it was determined
to decide the question by hazard. Amid shouts of hilarity, the dice were
thrown. Those men were staking their lives, perhaps, upon the issue, but
the reflection gave only a keener zest to the game. Egmont won. It was
the most fatal victory which he had ever achieved, a more deadly prize
even than the trophies of St. Quentin and Gravelingen.
In a few days afterwards, the retainers of the house of Egmont surprised
Brussels by making their appearance in a new livery. Doublet and hose of
the coarsest grey, and long hanging sleeves, without gold or silver lace,
and having but a single ornament, comprised the whole costume. An emblem
which seemed to resemble a monk's cowl, or a fool's cap and bells, was
embroidered upon each sleeve. The device pointed at the Cardinal, as
did, by contrast, the affected coarseness of the dress. There was no
doubt as to the meaning of the hood, but they who saw in the symbol more
resemblance to the jester's cap, recalled certain biting expressions
which Granvelle had been accustomed to use. He had been wont, in the
days of his greatest insolence, to speak of the most eminent nobles as
zanies, lunatics, and buffoons. The embroidered fool's cap was supposed
to typify the gibe, and to remind the arrogant priest that a Brutus, as
in the olden time, might be found lurking in the costume of the fool.
However witty or appropriate the invention, the livery had an immense
success. According to agreement, the nobles who had dined with the
treasurer ordered it for all their servants. Never did a new dress
become so soon the fashion. The unpopularity of the minister assisted
the quaintness of the device. The fool's-cap livery became the rage.
Never was such a run upon the haberdashers, mercers, and tailors, since
Brussels had been a city. All the frieze-cloth in Brabant was exhausted.
All the serge in Flanders was clipped into monastic cowls. The Duchess
at first laughed with the rest, but the Cardinal took care that the king
should be at once informed upon the subject. The Regent was, perhaps,
not extremely sorry to see the man ridiculed whom she so cordially
disliked, and, she accepted the careless excuses made on the subject by
Egmont and by Orange without severe criticism. She wrote to her brother
that, although the gentlemen had been influenced by no evil intention,
she had thought it best to exhort them not to push the jest too far.
Already, however, she found that two thousand pairs, of sleeves had been
made, and the most she could obtain was that the fools' caps, or monks'
hoods, should in future be omitted from the livery. A change was
accordingly made in the costume, at about the time of the cardinal's
departure.
A bundle of arrows, or in some instances a wheat-sheaf, was substituted
for the cowls. Various interpretations were placed upon this new emblem.
According to the nobles themselves, it denoted the union of all their
hearts in the King's service, while their enemies insinuated that it was
obviously a symbol of conspiracy. The costume thus amended was worn by
the gentlemen themselves, as well as by their servants. Egmont dined at
the Regent's table, after the Cardinal's departure, in a camlet doublet,
with hanging sleeves, and buttons stamped with the bundle of arrows.
For the present, the Cardinal affected to disapprove of the fashion only
from its rebellious tendency. The fools' caps and cowls, he meekly
observed to Philip, were the least part of the offence, for an injury to
himself could be easily forgiven. The wheat-sheaf and the arrow-bundles,
however, were very vile things, for they betokened and confirmed the
existence of a conspiracy, such as never could be tolerated by a prince
who had any regard for his own authority.
This incident of the livery occupied the public attention, and inflamed
the universal hatred during the later months of the minister's residence
in the country. Meantime the three seigniors had become very impatient
at receiving no answer to their letter. Margaret of Parma was urging
her brother to give them satisfaction, repeating to him their bitter
complaints that their characters and conduct were the subject of constant
misrepresentation to their sovereign, and picturing her own isolated
condition. She represented herself as entirely deprived of the support
of those great personages, who, despite her positive assurances to the
contrary, persisted in believing that they were held up to the King as
conspirators, and were in danger of being punished as traitors. Philip,
on his part, was conning Granvelle's despatches, filled with hints of
conspiracy, and holding counsel with Alva, who had already recommended
the taking off several heads for treason. The Prince of Orange, who
already had secret agents in the King's household, and was supplied with
copies of the most private papers in the palace, knew better than to be
deceived by the smooth representations of the Regent. Philip had,
however, at last begun secretly to yield. He asked Alva's advice whether
on the whole it would not be better to let the Cardinal leave the
Netherlands, at least for a time, on pretence of visiting his mother in
Burgundy, and to invite Count Egmont to Madrid, by way of striking one
link from the chain, as Granvelle had suggested. The Duke had replied
that he had no doubt of the increasing insolence of the three seigniors,
as depicted in the letters of the Duchess Margaret, nor of their
intention to make the Cardinal their first victim; it being the regular
principle in all revolts against the sovereign, to attack the chief
minister in the first place. He could not, however, persuade himself
that the King should yield and Granvelle be recalled. Nevertheless,
if it were to be done at all, he preferred that the Cardinal should
go to Burgundy without leave asked either of the Duchess or of Philip;
and that he should then write; declining to return, on the ground that
his life was not safe in the Netherlands.
After much hesitation, the monarch at last settled upon a plan, which
recommended itself through the extreme duplicity by which it was marked,
and the complicated system of small deceptions, which it consequently
required. The King, who was never so thoroughly happy or at home as when
elaborating the ingredients of a composite falsehood, now busily employed
himself in his cabinet. He measured off in various letters to the
Regent, to the three nobles, to Egmont alone, and to Granvelle, certain
proportionate parts of his whole plan, which; taken separately, were
intended to deceive, and did deceive nearly every person in the world,
not only in his own generation, but for three centuries afterwards, but
which arranged synthetically, as can now be done, in consequence of
modern revelations, formed one complete and considerable lie, the
observation of which furnishes the student with a lesson in the political
chemistry of those days, which was called Macchiavellian statesmanship.
The termination of the Granvelle regency is, moreover, most important,
not only for the grave and almost interminable results to which it led,
but for the illustration which it affords of the inmost characters of the
Cardinal and "his master."
The courier who was to take Philip's letters to the three nobles was
detained three weeks, in order to allow Armenteros, who was charged with
the more important and secret despatches for the Duchess and Granvelle to
reach Brussels first. All the letters, however, were ready at the same
time. The letter of instructions for Armenteros enjoined upon that envoy
to tell the Regent that the heretics were to be chastised with renewed
vigor, that she was to refuse to convoke the states-general under any
pretext, and that if hard pressed, she was to refer directly to the King.
With regard to Granvelle, the secretary was to state that his Majesty was
still deliberating, and that the Duchess would be informed as to the
decision when it should be made. He was to express the royal
astonishment that the seigniors should absent themselves from the state
council, with a peremptory intimation that they should immediately return
to their posts. As they had specified no particularities against the
Cardinal, the King would still reflect upon the subject.
He also wrote a private note to the Duchess, stating that he had not yet
sent the letters for the three nobles, because he wished that Armenteros
should arrive before their courier. He, however, enclosed two notes for
Egmont, of which Margaret was to deliver that one, which, in her opinion,
was, under the circumstances, the best. In one of these missives the
King cordially accepted, and in the other he politely declined Egmont's
recent offer to visit Spain. He also forwarded a private letter in his
own hand-writing to the Cardinal. Armenteros, who travelled but slowly
on account of the state of his health, arrived in Brussels towards the
end of February. Five or six days afterwards, on the 1st March, namely,
the courier arrived bringing the despatches for the seigniors. In his
letter to Orange, Egmont, and Horn, the King expressed his astonishment
at their resolution to abstain from the state council. Nevertheless,
said he, imperatively, fail not to return thither and to show how much
more highly you regard my service and the good of the country than any
other particularity whatever. As to Granvelle, continued Philip, since
you will not make any specifications, my intention is to think over the
matter longer, in order to arrange it as may seem most fitting.
This letter was dated February 19 (1564), nearly a month later therefore
than the secret letter to Granvelle, brought by Armenteros, although all
the despatches had been drawn up at the same time and formed parts of the
same plan. In this brief note to Granvelle, however, lay the heart of
the whole mystery.
"I have reflected much," wrote the King, "on all that you have written
me during these last few months, concerning the ill-will borne you by
certain personages. I notice also your suspicions that if a revolt
breaks out, they will commence with your person, thus taking occasion to
proceed from that point to the accomplishment of their ulterior designs.
I have particularly taken into consideration the notice received by you
from the curate of Saint Gudule, as well as that which you have learned
concerning the Genoese who is kept at Weert; all which has given me much
anxiety as well from my desire for the preservation of your life in which
my service is so deeply interested, as for the possible results if any
thing should happen to you, which God forbid. I have thought, therefore,
that it would be well, in order to give time and breathing space to the
hatred and rancor which those persons entertain towards you, and in order
to see what coarse they will take in preparing the necessary remedy, for
the provinces, for you to leave the country for some days, in order to
visit your mother, and this with the knowledge of the Duchess, my sister,
and with her permission, which you will request, and which I have written
to her that she must give, without allowing it to appear that you have
received orders to that effect from me. You will also beg her to write
to me requesting my approbation of what she is to do. By taking this
course neither my authority nor yours will suffer prejudice; and
according to the turn which things may take, measures may be taken for
your return when expedient, and for whatever else there may be to
arrange."
Thus, in two words, Philip removed the unpopular minister forever.
The limitation of his absence had no meaning, and was intended to have
none. If there were not strength enough to keep the Cardinal in his
place, it was not probable that the more difficult task of reinstating
him after his fall would be very soon attempted. It, seemed, however,
to be dealing more tenderly with Granvelle's self-respect thus to leave
a vague opening for a possible return, than to send him an unconditional
dismissal.
Thus, while the King refused to give any weight to the representations of
the nobles, and affected to be still deliberating whether or not he
should recall the Cardinal, he had in reality already recalled him. All
the minute directions according to which permission was to be asked of
the Duchess to take a step which had already been prescribed by the
monarch, and Philip's indulgence craved for obeying his own explicit
injunctions, were fulfilled to the letter.
As soon as the Cardinal received the royal order, he privately made
preparations for his departure. The Regent, on the other hand, delivered
to Count Egmont the one of Philip's two letters in which that gentleman's
visit was declined, the Duchess believing that, in the present position
of affairs, she should derive more assistance from him than from the rest
of the seigniors. As Granvelle, however, still delayed his departure,
even after the arrival of the second courier, she was again placed in a
situation of much perplexity. The three nobles considered Philip's
letter to them extremely "dry and laconic," and Orange absolutely refused
to comply with the order to re-enter the state council. At a session of
that body, on the 3d of March, where only Granvelle, Viglius, and
Berlaymont were present, Margaret narrated her fruitless attempts to
persuade the seigniors into obedience to the royal orders lately
transmitted, and asked their opinions. The extraordinary advice was
then given, that "she should let them champ the bit a little while
longer, and afterwards see what was to be done." Even at the last
moment, the Cardinal, reluctant to acknowledge himself beaten, although
secretly desirous to retire, was inclined for a parting struggle. The
Duchess, however, being now armed with the King's express commands, and
having had enough of holding the reins while such powerful and restive
personages were "champing the bit," insisted privately that the Cardinal
should make his immediate departure known. Pasquinades and pamphlets
were already appearing daily, each more bitter than the other; the livery
was spreading rapidly through all classes of people, and the seigniors
most distinctly refused to recede from their determination of absenting
themselves from the council so long as Granvelle remained. There was no
help for it; and on the 13th of March the Cardinal took his departure.
Notwithstanding the mystery of the whole proceeding, however, William of
Orange was not deceived. He felt certain that the minister had been
recalled, and thought it highly improbable that he would ever be
permitted to return. "Although the Cardinal talks of coming back again
soon," wrote the Prince to Schwartzburg, "we nevertheless hope that, as
he lied about his departure, so he will also spare the truth in his
present assertions." This was the general conviction, so far as the
question of the minister's compulsory retreat was concerned, of all those
who were in the habit of receiving their information and their opinions
from the Prince of Orange. Many even thought that Granvelle had been
recalled with indignity and much against his will. "When the Cardinal,"
wrote Secretary Lorich to Count Louis, "received the King's order to go,
he growled like a bear, and kept himself alone in his chamber for a time,
making his preparations for departure. He says he shall come back in two
months, but some of us think they will be two long months which will eat
themselves up like money borrowed of the Jews." A wag, moreover, posted
a large placard upon the door of Granvelle's palace in Brussels as soon
as the minister's departure was known, with the inscription, in large
letters, "For sale, immediately." In spite of the royal ingenuity,
therefore, many shrewdly suspected the real state of the case, although
but very few actually knew the truth.
The Cardinal left Brussels with a numerous suite, stately equipages,
and much parade. The Duchess provided him with her own mules and with
a sufficient escort, for the King had expressly enjoined that every care
should be taken against any murderous attack. There was no fear of such
assault, however, for all were sufficiently satisfied to see the minister
depart. Brederode and Count Hoogstraaten were standing together, looking
from the window of a house near the gate of Caudenberg, to feast their
eyes with the spectacle of their enemy's retreat. As soon as the
Cardinal had passed through that gate, on his way to Namur, the first
stage of his journey, they rushed into the street, got both upon one
horse, Hoogstraaten, who alone had boots on his legs, taking the saddle
and Brederode the croup, and galloped after the Cardinal, with the
exultation of school-boys. Thus mounted, they continued to escort the
Cardinal on his journey. At one time, they were so near his carriage,
while it was passing through a ravine, that they might have spoken to him
from the heights above, where they had paused to observe him; but they
pulled the capes of their cloaks over their faces and suffered him to
pass unchallenged. "But they are young folk," said the Cardinal,
benignantly, after relating all these particulars to the Duchess, "and
one should pay little regard to their actions." He added, that one of
Egmont's gentlemen dogged their party on the journey, lodging in the same
inns with them, apparently in the hope of learning something from their
conversation or proceedings. If that were the man's object, however,
Granvelle expressed the conviction that he was disappointed, as nothing
could have been more merry than the whole company, or more discreet than
their conversation.
The Cardinal began at once to put into operation the system of deception,
as to his departure, which had been planned by Philip. The man who had
been ordered to leave the Netherlands by the King, and pushed into
immediate compliance with the royal command by the Duchess, proceeded to
address letters both to Philip and Margaret. He wrote from Namur to beg
the Regent that she would not fail to implore his Majesty graciously to
excuse his having absented himself for private reasons at that particular
moment. He wrote to Philip from Besancon, stating that his desire to
visit his mother, whom he had not seen for nineteen years, and his natal
soil, to which he had been a stranger during the same period, had induced
him to take advantage of his brother's journey to accompany him for a few
days into Burgundy. He had, therefore, he said, obtained the necessary
permission from the Duchess, who had kindly promised to write very
particularly by the first courier, to beg his Majesty's approval of the
liberty which they had both taken. He wrote from the same place to the
Regent again, saying that some of the nobles pretended to have learned
from Armenteros that the King had ordered the Cardinal to leave the
country and not to return; all which, he added, was a very false
Renardesque invention, at which he did nothing but laugh.