ranks of four by four, they advanced in procession to the palace; all
Brussels attended the unwonted spectacle in silent astonishment. Here
were to be seen a body of men, advancing with too much boldness and
confidence to look like supplicants, and led by two men who were not
wont to be petitioners and, on the other hand, with so much order and
stillness as do not usually accompany rebellion. The Regent received the
procession, surrounded by all her counsellors and the Knights of the
Fleece. "These noble Netherlanders," thus Brederode respectfully
addressed her, "who here present themselves before your highness, wish
in their own name, and of many others besides, who are shortly to
arrive, to present to you a petition, of whose importance, as well as of
their own humility, this solemn procession must convince you. I, as
speaker of this body, entreat you to receive our petition, which
contains nothing but what is in unison with the laws of our country and
the honor of the King."
"Never"--so ran the petition, which, according to some, was drawn up by
the celebrated Balduin--"never had they failed in their loyalty to their
King, and nothing now could be further from their hearts; but they would
rather run the risk of incurring the displeasure of their sovereign than
allow him to remain longer in ignorance of the evils with which their
native country was menaced, by the forcible introduction of the
Inquisition, and the continued enforcement of the edicts. They had long
remained consoling themselves with the expectation that a general
assembly of the states would be summoned to remedy these grievances; but
now that even this hope was extinguished, they held it to be their duty
to give timely warning to the Regent. They, therefore, entreated her
highness to send to Madrid an envoy, well disposed, and fully acquainted
with the state and temper of the times, who should endeavor to persuade
the King to comply with the demands of the whole nation, and abolish the
Inquisition, to revoke the edicts, and in their stead cause new and more
humane ones to be drawn up at a general assembly of the states. But, in
the mean while, until they could learn the King's decision, they prayed
that the edicts and the operations of the Inquisition be suspended."
"If," they concluded, "no attention should be paid to their humble
request, they took God, the King, the Regent and all her counsellors to
witness that they had done their part, and were not responsible for any
unfortunate result that might happen."
The following day the confederates, marching in the same order of
procession, but in still greater numbers--Counts Bergen and Kuilemberg
having in the interim joined them with their adherents--appeared before
the Regent in order to receive her answer. It was written on the margin
of the petition, and was to the effect "that entirely to suspend the
Inquisition and the edicts, even temporarily, was beyond her powers; but
in compliance with the wishes of the confederates, she was ready to
despatch one of the nobles to the King, in Spain, and also to support
their petition with all her influence. In the mean time she would
recommend the inquisitors to administer their office with moderation;
but in return, she should expect, on the part of the league, that they
should abstain from all acts of violence, and undertake nothing to the
prejudice of the Catholic faith." Little as these vague and general
promises satisfied the confederates, they were, nevertheless, as much as
they could have reasonably expected to gain at first.
The granting or refusing of the petition had nothing to do with the
primary object of the league. Enough for them at present that it was
once recognized; enough that it was now, as it were, an established
body, which by its power and threats might, if necessary, overawe the
Government. The confederates, therefore, acted quite consistently with
their designs, in contenting themselves with this answer, and referring
the rest to the good pleasure of the King. As, indeed, the whole
pantomime of petitioning had only been invented to cover the more daring
plan of the league, until it should have strength enough to show itself
in its true light; they felt that much more depended on their being able
to continue this mask, and on the favorable reception of their petition,
than on its speedily being granted. In a new memorial, which they
delivered three days after, they pressed for an express testimonial from
the Regent, that they had done no more than their duty, and been guided
simply by their zeal for the service of the King. When the Duchess
evaded a declaration, they even sent a person to repeat this request in
a private interview. "Time alone and their future behavior," she replied
to this person, "would enable her to judge of their designs."
The league had its origin in banquets, and a banquet gave it form and
perfection. On the very day that the second petition was presented,
Brederode entertained the confederates in Kuilemberg house. About three
hundred guests assembled; intoxication gave them courage, and their
audacity rose with their numbers. During the conversation one of their
number happened to remark that he had overheard the Count of Barlaimont
whisper in French to the Regent, who was seen to turn pale on the
delivery of the petitions, that "she need not be afraid of a band of
beggars (_gueux_);" in fact, the majority of them had by their bad
management of their incomes only too well deserved this appellation.
Now, as the very name of their fraternity was the very thing which had
most perplexed them, an expression was eagerly caught up, which, while
it cloaked the presumption of their enterprise in humility, was at the
same time appropriate to them as petitioners. Immediately they drank to
one another under this name, and the cry "Long live the Gueux!" was
accompanied with a general shout of applause. After the cloth had been
removed, Brederode appeared with a wallet over his shoulder, similar to
that which the vagrant pilgrims and mendicant monks of the time used to
carry; and after returning thanks to all for their accession to the
league, and boldly assuring them that he was ready to venture life and
limb for every individual present, he drank to the health of the whole
company out of a wooden beaker. The cup went round, and everyone uttered
the same vow as he set it to his lips. Then one after the other they
received the beggar's purse, and each hung it on a nail which he had
appropriated to himself. The shouts and uproar attending this buffoonery
attracted the Prince of Orange and Counts Egmont and Horn, who, by
chance, were passing the spot at the very moment, and on entering the
house were boisterously pressed by Brederode, as host, to remain and
drink a glass with them.[3]
[3] "But," Egmont asserted in his written defence, "we drank only
one single small glass, and thereupon they cried, 'Long live the
King and the Gueux!' This was the first time that I heard that
appellation, and it certainly did not please me. But the times
were so bad that one was often compelled to share in much that
was against one's inclination, and I knew not but I was doing an
innocent thing."
The entrance of three such influential personages renewed the mirth of
the guests, and their festivities soon passed the bounds of moderation.
Many were intoxicated; guests and attendants mingled together without
distinction, the serious and the ludicrous; drunken fancies and affairs
of state were blended one with another in a burlesque medley; and the
discussions on the general distress of the country ended in the wild
uproar of a bacchanalian revel. But it did not stop here; what they had
resolved on in the moment of intoxication, they attempted when sober to
carry into execution. It was necessary to manifest to the people in some
striking shape the existence of their protectors, and likewise to fan
the zeal of the faction by a visible emblem; for this end nothing could
be better than to adopt publicly this name of Gueux, and to borrow from
it the tokens of the association. In a few days the town of Brussels
swarmed with ash-gray garments, such as were usually worn by mendicant
friars and penitents. Every confederate put his whole family and
domestics in this dress. Some carried wooden bowls thinly overlaid with
plates of silver, cups of the same kind, and wooden knives; in short,
the whole paraphernalia of the beggar tribe, which they either fixed
around their hats or suspended from their girdles. Round the neck they
wore a golden or silver coin, afterward called the "Guesen penny," of
which one side bore the effigy of the King, with the inscription "True
to the King"; on the other side were seen two hands folded together,
holding a wallet, with the words "as far as the beggar's scrip." Hence
the origin of the name "Gueux," which was subsequently borne in the
Netherlands by all who seceded from popery and took up arms against the
King.
A name decides the whole issue of things. In Madrid that was called
rebellion which in Brussels was styled only a lawful remonstrance. The
complaints of Brabant required a prudent mediator; Philip II sent an
executioner, and the signal for war was given. An unparalleled tyranny
assailed both property and life.
The despairing citizens, to whom the choice of death was all that was
left, chose the nobler one on the battle-field. A wealthy and luxurious
nation loves peace, but becomes warlike as soon as it becomes poor. Then
it ceases to tremble for a life which is deprived of everything that had
made it desirable. In a moment the rage of rebellion seizes the most
distant provinces; trade and commerce are at a standstill, the ships
disappear from the harbors, the artisan abandons his workshop, the
rustic his uncultivated fields. Thousands fled to distant lands; a
thousand victims fell on the bloody field, and fresh thousands pressed
on; for divine, indeed, must that doctrine be for which men could die so
joyfully. All that was wanting was the last achieving hand, the
enlightened enterprising spirit, to seize on this great political crisis
and to mature the offspring of chance to the designs of wisdom. William
the Silent devoted himself, a second Brutus, to the great cause of
liberty. Superior to a timorous selfishness, he sent in to the throne
his resignation of offices which devolved on him objectionable duties,
and, magnanimously divesting himself of all his princely dignities, he
descended to a state of voluntary poverty, and became but a citizen of
the world. The cause of justice was staked upon the hazardous game of
battle; but the sudden levies of mercenaries and peaceful husbandmen
could not withstand the terrible onset of an experienced force. Twice
did the brave William lead his dispirited troops against the tyrant,
twice was he abandoned by them, but not by his courage.
Philip II sent as many reënforcements as the dreadful importunity of his
viceroy begged for. Fugitives whom their fatherland rejected sought a
new country on the ocean, and turned to satisfy, on the ships of their
enemy, the demon of vengeance and of want. Naval heroes were now formed
out of corsairs, and a marine collected out of piratical vessels; and
out of morasses arose a republic. Seven provinces threw off the yoke at
the same time, to form a new, youthful state, powerful by its waters and
its union and despair. A solemn decree of the whole nation deposed the
tyrant, and the Spanish name disappeared from all the laws.
For what had now been done no forgiveness remained; the republic became
formidable, because it was no longer possible for her to retrace her
steps; factions distracted her within; her terrible element, the sea
itself, leaguing with her oppressors, threatened her very infancy with a
premature grave. She felt herself succumb to the superior force of the
enemy, and cast herself a suppliant before the most powerful thrones of
Europe, begging them to accept a dominion which she herself could no
longer protect. At last, but with difficulty--so despised at first was
this state that even the rapacity of foreign monarchs spurned her
opening bloom--a stranger deigned to accept their importunate offer of a
dangerous crown. New hopes began to revive her sinking courage; but in
this new father of his country, destiny gave her a traitor; and in the
critical emergency, when the implacable foe was in full force before her
very gates, Charles of Anjou invaded the liberties which he had been
called to protect. The assassin's hand, too, tore the steersman from the
rudder, and with William of Orange the career, seemingly, of the infant
republic and all her guardian angels fled; but the ship continued to
scud along in the storm, and the swelling canvas carried her safe
without the steersman's help.
Philip II missed the fruits of a deed which cost him his royal honor and
perhaps also his self-respect. Liberty struggled on still with despotism
in the obstinate and dubious contest; sanguinary battles were fought; a
brilliant array of heroes succeeded each other on the field of glory;
and Flanders and Brabant were the schools which educated generals for
the coming century. A long, devastating war laid waste the open country;
victor and vanquished alike were bathed in blood; while the rising
republic of the waters gave a welcome to fugitive industry, and out of
the ruins erected the noble edifice of its own greatness. For forty
years a war lasted, whose happy termination was not to bless the dying
eye of Philip; which destroyed one paradise in Europe, to create a new
one out of its shattered fragments; which destroyed the choicest flower
of military youth; and while it enriched more than a quarter of the
globe, impoverished the possessor of the golden Peru. This monarch, who,
even without oppressing his subjects, could expend nine hundred tons of
gold, but who by tyrannical means extorted far more, heaped on his
depopulated kingdom a debt of one hundred and forty millions of ducats.
An implacable hatred of liberty swallowed up all these treasures and
consumed in fruitless labor his royal life. But the Reformation throve
amid the devastation of his sword, and over the blood of her citizens
the banner of the new republic floated victorious.
LEPANTO: DESTRUCTION OF THE TURKISH NAVAL POWER
A.D. 1571
SIR WILLIAM STIRLING-MAXWELL
By the defeat of the Turks in the naval fight near Lepanto their
power was so seriously shaken that its decline may be reckoned to
have begun with that event. For many years, under their great sultan
Solyman, the Magnificent, they had kept Europe in terror of their
assaults. They had taken a recognized place among European peoples.
Before his alliance with Francis I of France (1534), Solyman had
made himself master of Hungary, and by threatening Vienna he so
alarmed Charles V that the Emperor agreed to the Peace of Nuremberg,
in order that he might unite Protestants and Catholics against the
Ottoman foe.
Although Solyman withdrew before the united forces of the Christian
empire, the Turks continued their depredations, especially on the
coasts of Italy and Spain. Charles succeeded in repelling them
there, and defeated them (1535) at Tunis, but they soon renewed
their frightful ravages along the European shores.
Finally, in the reign of Solyman's successor, Selim II, they were
met with effectual resistance through the efforts of the Holy League
formed in 1570 by Spain, Venice, and Pope Pius V. Selim in that year
captured and pillaged Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus. In May, 1571,
the League agreed upon a plan of action, and after a series of
indecisive operations the allies accomplished their task in the
manner described below. Their forces were commanded by Don John of
Austria, a Spanish soldier, illegitimate son of Charles V. Don John
had already (1569-1570) defeated the Moriscoes or Moors in Granada.
Stirling-Maxwell is the authoritative historian of his remarkable
career. Sir William's account of the important victory near Lepanto
is one of our most interesting examples of military narration.
The Gulf of Lepanto is a long inlet of irregular shape, extending east
and west, and bounded on the north by the shores of Albania, the ancient
Epirus, and on the south by the coast of Morea, and closed at its
eastern end by the Isthmus of Corinth. The bold headland on the north
side, guarded by the castle of Roumelia, and the lower promontory on the
south with the castle of the Morea, advancing from the opposite shores
into its waters, divide the long inlet into two unequal parts. The first
of these parts consists of the mouth of the gulf and the lake-like
basin, together forming the Gulf of Patras. The second is the long reach
of waters within the castled headlands called the Gulf (anciently) of
Corinth, and now of Epakte or Lepanto. When the hostile fleets came in
sight of each other, that of the League was entering the gulf near its
northern shore, while that of the Turk was about fifteen miles within
its jaws, his vast crescent-shaped line stretching almost from the broad
swampy shallows which lie beneath the Acarnanian mountains to the margin
of the rich lowlands of the Morea.
As the two armaments now advanced, each in full view of the other, the
sea was somewhat high, and the wind, blowing freshly from the east, was
in the teeth of the Christians. But in the course of the morning the
waves of the gulf fell to a glassy smoothness, and the breeze shifted to
the west, a change fortunate for the sailors of the League, which their
spiritual teachers did not fail to declare a special interposition of
God in behalf of the fleet which carried the flag of his vicar upon
earth.
At the sound of the signal gun each captain began to prepare his ship
for action. By order of Don John of Austria the sharp peaks of the
galleys, the spurs (_espolones_) as they were called, had been cut off,
it being thought expedient to sacrifice those weapons of offence, which
were somewhat uncertain in their operation, to insure the more effectual
working of the guns on the forecastle and gangway; and the bulwarks had
been strengthened, and heightened by means of boarding-nettings. In
some vessels the rowers' benches were removed or planked over, to give
more space and scope to the soldiers. Throughout the fleet the Christian
slaves had their fetters knocked off and were furnished with arms,
which they were encouraged to use valiantly by promises of freedom and
rewards. Of the Moslem slaves, on the contrary, the chains which
secured them to their places were carefully examined, and their rivets
secured; and they were, besides, fitted with handcuffs, to disable them
from using their hands for any purpose but tugging on the oar. The
arquebusier, the musketeer, and the bombardier looked carefully to the
state of their weapons, ammunition, and equipments; the sailor sharpened
his pike and cutlass; the officer put on his strongest casque and his
best-wrought cuirass; the stewards placed supplies of bread and wine in
convenient places, ready to the hands of the combatants; and the surgeons
prepared their instruments and bandages, and spread tables in dark and
shaded nooks, for the use of the wounded.
While these preparations occupied their subordinate officers, the chiefs
of the armament repaired to the flag-ship to learn the final resolution
and receive the last instructions of Don John of Austria. Some of these
went for the purpose of combating that resolution and objecting to those
instructions; for that eagerness to fight, which pervaded the soldiers
and sailors, was not unanimously shared by their leaders. Veniero,
although he had been hitherto very desirous of meeting the enemy, was
now anxious and dispirited. Doria and Ascanio de la Corgnia reminded
their young commander that the Turk, who was evidently bent upon
fighting, had a convenient harbor and arsenal behind him at Lepanto;
while for the fleet of the League, far from accessible ports, a disaster
implied total destruction. Some of their colleagues ventured to advise
Don John to retire while it was still in his power to do so. He refused
to discuss a question which had been decided at Corfu. "Gentlemen," he
said, "the time for counsel is past, and the time for fighting has
come," and with these words dismissed them to their ships.
While the galleys were taking up their positions, Don John of Austria,
in complete armor and attended by Don Luis de Cordoba and his secretary
Juan de Soto, transferred himself to a frigate remarkable for speed and
armed with a single German gun, and ran along the line to the right of
the flag-ship, embracing the whole extent of the right wing. As he
neared each galley he addressed a few words of encouragement to the
officers and men. He reminded the Venetians of the cruel outrages which
the Republic had lately received from the Turk in the Adriatic, Corfu,
and especially in Cyprus; and that now was the time to take signal
vengeance; and he therefore bid them use their weapons as these
recollections and the great opportunity required. To the Spaniards he
said: "My children, we are here to conquer or to die as Heaven may
determine. Do not let our impious foe ask us, 'Where is your God?' Fight
in his holy name, and in death or victory you will win immortality." His
words were eminently successful. They were in all cases received with
enthusiastic applause. The soldiers and sailors were delighted and
inspired by the gallant bearing and language of their young leader. As
he left them, shipmates who had quarrelled as only shipmates can, and
who had not spoken for weeks, embraced, and swore to conquer or to die
in the sacred cause of Christ.
As the two fleets approached--the Christians wafted gently onward by a
light breeze, the Ottomans plying their oars to the utmost--the Turkish
commander, who like Don John sailed in the centre of his line, fired a
gun. Don John acknowledged the challenge and returned the salute. A
second shot elicited a second reply. The two armaments had approached
near enough to enable each to distinguish the individual vessels of the
other and to scan their various banners and insignia. The Turks advanced
to battle shouting and screaming and making a great uproar with
ineffectual musketry. The Christians preserved complete silence. At a
certain signal a crucifix was raised aloft in every ship in the fleet.
Don John of Austria, sheathed in complete armor, and standing in a
conspicuous place on the prow of his ship, now knelt down to adore the
sacred emblem, and to implore the blessing of God on the great
enterprise which he was about to commence. Every man in the fleet
followed his example and fell upon his knees. The soldier, poising his
firelock, knelt at his post by the bulwarks, the gunner knelt with his
lighted match beside his gun. The decks gleamed with prostrate men in
mail. In each galley, erect and conspicuous among the martial throng,
stood a Franciscan or a Dominican friar, a Theatine or a Jesuit, in his
brown or black robe, holding a crucifix in one hand and sprinkling holy
water with the other, while he pronounced a general absolution, and
promised indulgence in this life, or pardon in the next, to the
steadfast warriors who should quit them like men and fight the good
fight of faith against infidel.
In the night between October 6th and 7th, 1571, about the same hour that
the Christian fleet weighed anchor at Cephalonia, the Turks had left
their moorings in the harbor of Lepanto. While Don John, baffled by the
winds and waves, was beating off the Curzolarian Isles, the Pacha was
sailing down the gulf before a fair breeze. Every Turk on board the
Sultan's fleet believed that he was about to assist in conveying the
armament of the Christian powers to the Golden Horn, in obedience to the
commands of the Padishah. The soldiers and sailors, lately recruited by
large reënforcements, were many of them fresh from quarters on shore.
Officers and men were in the highest spirits, eager for the battle which
they knew to be at hand, and in which they supposed their success to be
certain. For although Ali was well informed as to the position and
movements of the fleet of the League, he was no less mistaken as to the
strength of the Christians than the Christians were as to his own. He
had been more successful in pouring fictions into the ear of Don John
than in obtaining accurate intelligence for himself.