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HISTORY OF THE UNITED NETHERLANDS
From the Death of William the Silent to the Twelve Year's Truce--1609
By John Lothrop Motley
MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 56
History of the United Netherlands, 1588
CHAPTER XVIII. Part 2.
Dangerous Discord in North Holland--Leicester's Resignation arrives
--Enmity of Willoughby and Maurice--Willoughby's dark Picture of
Affairs--Hatred between States and Leicestrians--Maurice's Answer to
the Queen's Charges--End of Sonoy's Rebellion--Philip foments the
Civil War in France--League's Threats and Plots against Henry--Mucio
arrives in Paris--He is received with Enthusiasm--The King flies,
and Spain triumphs in Paris--States expostulate with the Queen--
English Statesmen still deceived--Deputies from Netherland Churches
--Hold Conference with the Queen--And present long Memorials--More
Conversations with the Queen--National Spirit of England and
Holland--Dissatisfaction with Queen's Course--Bitter Complaints of
Lord Howard--Want of Preparation in Army and Navy--Sanguine
Statements of Leicester--Activity of Parma--The painful Suspense
continues.
But it is necessary-in order to obtain a complete picture of that famous
year 1588, and to understand the cause from which such great events were
springing--to cast a glance at the internal politics of the States most
involved in Philip's meshes.
Certainly, if there had ever been a time when the new commonwealth of the
Netherlands should be both united in itself and on thoroughly friendly
terms with England, it was exactly that epoch of which we are treating.
There could be no reasonable doubt that the designs of Spain against
England were hostile, and against Holland revengeful. It was at least
possible that Philip meant to undertake the conquest of England, and to
undertake it as a stepping-stone to the conquest of Holland. Both the
kingdom and the republic should have been alert, armed, full of suspicion
towards the common foe, full of confidence in each other. What decisive
blows might have been struck against Parma in the Netherlands, when his
troops were starving, sickly, and mutinous, if the Hollanders and
Englishmen had been united under one chieftain, and thoroughly convinced
of the impossibility of peace! Could the English and Dutch statesmen of
that day have read all the secrets of their great enemy's heart, as it is
our privilege at this hour to do, they would have known that in sudden
and deadly strokes lay their best chance of salvation. But, without that
advantage, there were men whose sagacity told them that it was the hour
for deeds and not for dreams. For to Leicester and Walsingham, as well
as to Paul Buys and Barneveld, peace with Spain seemed an idle vision.
It was unfortunate that they were overruled by Queen Elizabeth and
Burghley, who still clung to that delusion; it was still more disastrous
that the intrigues of Leicester had done so much to paralyze the
republic; it was almost fatal that his departure, without laying down his
authority, had given the signal for civil war.
During the winter, spring, and summer of 1588, while the Duke--in the
face of mighty obstacles--was slowly proceeding with his preparations in
Flanders, to co-operate with the armaments from Spain, it would have been
possible by a combined movement to destroy his whole plan, to liberate
all the Netherlands, and to avert, by one great effort, the ruin
impending over England. Instead of such vigorous action, it was thought
wiser to send commissioners, to make protocols, to ask for armistices,
to give profusely to the enemy that which he was most in need of--time.
Meanwhile the Hollanders and English could quarrel comfortably among
themselves, and the little republic, for want of a legal head, could come
as near as possible to its dissolution.
Young Maurice--deep thinker for his years and peremptory in action--was
not the man to see his great father's life-work annihilated before his
eyes, so long as he had an arm and brain of his own. He accepted his
position at the head of the government of Holland and Zeeland, and as
chief of the war-party. The council of state, mainly composed of
Leicester's creatures, whose commissions would soon expire by their own
limitation, could offer but a feeble resistance to such determined
individuals as Maurice, Buys, and Barneveld. The party made rapid
progress. On the other hand, the English Leicestrians did their best
to foment discord in the Provinces. Sonoy was sustained in his rebellion
in North Holland, not only by the Earl's partizans, but by Elizabeth
herself. Her rebukes to Maurice, when Maurice was pursuing the only
course which seemed to him consistent with honour and sound policy,
were sharper than a sword. Well might Duplessis Mornay observe, that
the commonwealth had been rather strangled than embraced by the English
Queen. Sonoy, in the name of Leicester, took arms against Maurice and
the States; Maurice marched against him; and Lord Willoughby, commander-
in-chief of the English forces, was anxious to march against Maurice.
It was a spectacle to make angels weep, that of Englishmen and Hollanders
preparing to cut each other's throats, at the moment when Philip and
Parma were bending all their energies to crush England and Holland at
once.
Indeed, the interregnum between the departure of Leicester and his
abdication was diligently employed by his more reckless partizans to
defeat and destroy the authority of the States. By prolonging the
interval, it was hoped that no government would be possible except the
arbitrary rule of the Earl, or of a successor with similar views: for a
republic--a free commonwealth--was thought an absurdity. To entrust
supreme power to advocates; merchants, and mechanics, seemed as hopeless
as it was vulgar. Willoughby; much devoted to Leicester and much
detesting Barneveld, had small scruple in fanning the flames of discord.
There was open mutiny against the States by the garrison of
Gertruydenberg, and Willoughby's brother-in-law, Captain Wingfield,
commanded in Gertruydenberg. There were rebellious demonstrations in
Naarden, and Willoughby went to Naarden. The garrison was troublesome,
but most of the magistrates were firm. So Willoughby supped with the
burgomasters, and found that Paul Buys had been setting the people
against Queen Elizabeth, Leicester, and the whole English nation, making
them all odious. Colonel Dorp said openly that it was a shame for the
country to refuse their own natural-born Count for strangers. He swore
that he would sing his song whose bread he had eaten. A "fat militia
captain" of the place, one Soyssons, on the other hand, privately
informed Willoughby that Maurice and Barneveld were treating underhand
with Spain. Willoughby was inclined to believe the calumny, but feared
that his corpulent friend would lose his head for reporting it. Meantime
the English commander did his best to strengthen the English party in
their rebellion against the States.
"But how if they make war upon us?" asked the Leicestrians.
"It is very likely," replied Willoughby, "that if they use violence you
will have her Majesty's assistance, and then you who continue constant to
the end will be rewarded accordingly. Moreover, who would not rather be
a horse-keeper to her Majesty, than a captain to Barneveld or Buys?"
When at last the resignation of Leicester--presented to the States by
Killegrew on the 31st March--seemed to promise comparative repose to the
republic, the vexation of the Leicestrians was intense. Their efforts.
to effect a dissolution of the government had been rendered unsuccessful,
when success seemed within their grasp. "Albeit what is once executed
cannot be prevented," said Captain Champernoun; "yet 'tis thought certain
that if the resignation of Lord Leicester's commission had been deferred
yet some little time; the whole country and towns would have so revolted
and mutinied against the government and authority of the States, as that
they should have had no more credit given them by the people than pleased
her Majesty. Most part of the people could see--in consequence of the
troubles, discontent, mutiny of garrisons, and the like, that it was most
necessary for the good success of their affairs that the power of the
States should be abolished, and the whole government of his Excellency
erected. As these matters were busily working into the likelihood of
some good effect, came the resignation of his Excellency's commission and
authority, which so dashed the proceedings of it, as that all people and
commanders well affected unto her Majesty and my Lord of Leicester are
utterly discouraged. The States, with their adherents, before they had
any Lord's resignations were much perplexed what course to take, but now
begin to hoist their heads." The excellent Leicestrian entertained
hopes, however; that mutiny and intrigue might still carry the day.
He had seen the fat militiaman of Naarden and other captains, and,
hoped much mischief from their schemes. "The chief mutineers of
Gertruydenberg," he said, "maybe wrought to send unto 'the States, that
if they do not procure them some English governor, they will compound
with the enemy, whereon the States shall be driven to request her Majesty
to accept the place, themselves entertaining the garrison. I know
certain captains discontented with the States for arrears of pay, who
will contrive to get into Naarden with their companies, with the States
consent, who, once entered, will keep the place for their satisfaction,
pay their soldiers out of the contributions of the country; and yet
secretly hold the place at her Majesty's command."
This is not an agreeable picture; yet it is but one out of many examples
of the intrigues by which Leicester and his party were doing their best
to destroy the commonwealth of the Netherlands at a moment when its
existence was most important to that of England.
To foment mutiny in order to subvert the authority of Maurice, was not
a friendly or honourable course of action either towards Holland or
England; and it was to play into the hands of Philip as adroitly as
his own stipendiaries could have done.
With mischief-makers like Champernoun in every city, and with such
diplomatists at Ostend as Croft and Ropers and Valentine Dale, was it
wonderful that the King and the Duke of Parma found time to mature their
plans for the destruction of both countries?
Lord Willoughby, too, was extremely dissatisfied with his own position.
He received no commission from the Queen for several months. When it at
last reached him, it seemed inadequate, and he became more sullen than
ever. He declared that he would rather serve the Queen as a private
soldier, at his own expense--"lean as his purse was"--than accept the
limited authority conferred on him. He preferred to show his devotion
"in a beggarly state, than in a formal show." He considered it beneath
her Majesty's dignity that he should act in the field under the States,
but his instructions forbade his acceptance of any office from that body
but that of general in their service. He was very discontented, and more
anxious than ever to be rid of his functions. Without being extremely
ambitious, he was impatient of control. He desired not "a larger-shaped
coat," but one that fitted him better. "I wish to shape my garment
homely, after my cloth," he said, "that the better of my parish may not
be misled by my sumptuousness. I would live quietly, without great
noise, my poor roof low and near the ground, not subject to be overblown
with unlooked-for storms, while the sun seems most shining."
Being the deadly enemy of the States and their leaders, it was a matter
of course that he should be bitter against Maurice. That young Prince,
bold, enterprising, and determined, as he was, did not ostensibly meddle
with political affairs more than became his years; but he accepted the
counsels of the able statesmen in whom his father had trusted. Riding,
hunting, and hawking, seemed to be his chief delight at the Hague, in the
intervals of military occupations. He rarely made his appearance in the
state-council during the winter, and referred public matters to the
States-General, to the States of Holland, to Barneveld, Buys, and
Hohenlo. Superficial observers like George Gilpin regarded him as a
cipher; others, like Robert Cecil, thought him an unmannerly schoolboy;
but Willoughby, although considering him insolent and conceited, could
not deny his ability. The peace partisans among the burghers--a very
small faction--were furious against him, for they knew that Maurice of
Nassau represented war. They accused of deep designs against the
liberties of their country the youth who was ever ready to risk his life
in their defence. A burgomaster from Friesland, who had come across the
Zuyder Zee to intrigue against the States' party, was full of spleen at
being obliged to dance attendance for a long time at the Hague. He
complained that Count Maurice, green of years, and seconded by greener
counsellors, was meditating the dissolution of the state-council, the
appointment of a new board from his own creatures, the overthrow of all
other authority, and the assumption of the, sovereignty of Holland and
Zeeland, with absolute power. "And when this is done;" said the rueful
burgomaster, "he and his turbulent fellows may make what terms they like
with Spain, to the disadvantage of the Queen and of us poor wretches."
But there was nothing farther from the thoughts of the turbulent fellows
than any negotiations with Spain. Maurice was ambitious enough, perhaps,
but his ambition ran in no such direction. Willoughby knew better; and
thought that by humouring the petulant young man it might be possible to
manage him.
"Maurice is young," he said, "hot-headed; coveting honour. If we do but
look at him through our fingers, without much words, but with providence
enough, baiting his hook a little to his appetite, there is no doubt but
he might be caught and kept in a fish-pool; while in his imagination he
may judge it a sea. If not, 'tis likely he will make us fish in troubled
waters."
Maurice was hardly the fish for a mill-pond even at that epoch, and it
might one day be seen whether or not he could float in the great ocean
of events. Meanwhile, he swam his course without superfluous gambols or
spoutings.
The commander of her Majesty's forces was not satisfied with the States,
nor their generals, nor their politicians. "Affairs are going 'a malo in
pejus,'" he said. "They embrace their liberty as apes their young. To
this end are Counts Hollock and Maurice set upon the stage to entertain
the popular sort. Her Majesty and my Lord of Leicester are not
forgotten. The Counts are in Holland, especially Hollock, for the other
is but the cipher. And yet I can assure you Maurice hath wit and spirit
too much for his time."
As the troubles of the interregnum increased Willoughby was more
dissatisfied than ever with the miserable condition of the Provinces,
but chose to ascribe it to the machinations of the States' party,
rather than to the ambiguous conduct of Leicester. "These evils,"
he said, "are especially, derived from the childish ambition of the
young Count Maurice, from the covetous and furious counsels of the proud
Hollanders, now chief of the States-General, and, if with pardon it may
be said, from our slackness and coldness to entertain our friends. The
provident and wiser sort--weighing what a slender ground the appetite of
a young man is, unfurnished with the sinews of war to manage so great a
cause--for a good space after my Lord of Leicester's departure, gave him
far looking on, to see him play has part on the stage."
Willoughby's spleen caused him to mix his metaphors more recklessly than
strict taste would warrant, but his violent expressions painted the
relative situation of parties more vividly than could be done by a calm
disquisition. Maurice thus playing his part upon the stage--as the
general proceeded to observe--"was a skittish horse, becoming by little
and little assured of what he had feared, and perceiving the harmlessness
thereof; while his companions, finding no safety of neutrality in so
great practices, and no overturning nor barricado to stop his rash wilded
chariot, followed without fear; and when some of the first had passed the
bog; the rest, as the fashion is, never started after. The variable
democracy; embracing novelty, began to applaud their prosperity; the base
and lewdest sorts of men, to whom there is nothing more agreeable than
change of estates, is a better monture to degrees than their merit, took
present hold thereof. Hereby Paul Buys, Barneveld, and divers others,
who were before mantled with a tolerable affection, though seasoned with
a poisoned intention, caught the occasion, and made themselves the
Beelzebubs of all these mischiefs, and, for want of better angels, spared
not to let fly our golden-winged ones in the name of guilders, to prepare
the hearts and hands that hold money more dearer than honesty, of which
sort, the country troubles and the Spanish practices having suckled up
many, they found enough to serve their purpose. As the breach is safely
saltable where no defence is made, so they, finding no head, but those
scattered arms that were disavowed, drew the sword with Peter, and gave
pardon with the Pope, as you shall plainly perceive by the proceedings
at Horn. Thus their force; fair words, or corruption, prevailing
everywhere, it grew to this conclusion--that the worst were encouraged
with their good success, and the best sort assured of no fortune or
favour."
Out of all this hubbub of stage-actors, skittish horses, rash wilded
chariots, bogs, Beelzebubs, and golden-winged angels, one truth was
distinctly audible; that Beelzebub, in the shape of Barneveld, had been
getting the upper hand in the Netherlands, and that the Lecestrians were
at a disadvantage. In truth those partisans were becoming extremely
impatient. Finding themselves deserted by their great protector, they
naturally turned their eyes towards Spain, and were now threatening to
sell themselves to Philip. The Earl, at his departure, had given them
privately much encouragement. But month after month had passed by while
they were waiting in vain for comfort. At last the "best"--that is to
say, the unhappy Leicestrians--came to Willoughby, asking his advice in
their "declining and desperate cause."
"Well nigh a month longer," said that general, "I nourished them with
compliments, and assured them that my Lord of Leicester would take care
of them." The diet was not fattening. So they began to grumble more
loudly than ever, and complained with great bitterness of the miserable
condition in which they had been left by the Earl, and expressed their
fears lest the Queen likewise meant to abandon them. They protested that
their poverty, their powerful foes, and their slow friends, would.
compel them either to make their peace with the States' party, or
"compound with the enemy."
It would have seemed that real patriots, under such circumstances, would
hardly hesitate in their choice, and would sooner accept the dominion of
"Beelzebub," or even Paul Buys, than that of Philip II. But the
Leicestrians of Utrecht and Friesland--patriots as they were--hated
Holland worse than they hated the Inquisition. Willoughby encouraged
them in that hatred. He assured him of her Majesty's affection for them,
complained of the factious proceedings of the States, and alluded to the
unfavourable state of the weather, as a reason why--near four months
long--they had not received the comfort out of England which they had a
right to expect. He assured them that neither the Queen nor Leicester
would conclude this honourable action, wherein much had been hazarded,
"so rawly and tragically" as they seemed to fear, and warned them, that
"if they did join with Holland, it would neither ease nor help them, but
draw them into a more dishonourable loss of their liberties; and that,
after having wound them in, the Hollanders would make their own peace
with the enemy."
It seemed somewhat unfair-while the Queen's government was straining
every nerve to obtain a peace from Philip, and while the Hollanders were
obstinately deaf to any propositions for treating--that Willoughby should
accuse them of secret intentions to negotiate. But it must be confessed
that faction has rarely worn a more mischievous aspect than was presented
by the politics of Holland and England in the winter and spring of 1588.
Young Maurice was placed in a very painful position. He liked not to be
"strangled in the great Queen's embrace;" but he felt most keenly the
necessity of her friendship, and the importance to both countries of a
close alliance. It was impossible for him, however, to tolerate the
rebellion of Sonoy, although Sonoy was encouraged by Elizabeth, or to fly
in the face of Barneveld, although Barneveld was detested by Leicester.
So with much firmness and courtesy, notwithstanding the extravagant
pictures painted by Willoughby, he suppressed mutiny in Holland, while
avowing the most chivalrous attachment to the sovereign of England.
Her Majesty expressed her surprise and her discontent, that,
notwithstanding his expressions of devotion to herself, he should
thus deal with Sonoy, whose only crime was an equal devotion. "If you
do not behave with more moderation in future," she said, "you may believe
that we are not a princess of so little courage as not to know how to
lend a helping hand to those who are unjustly oppressed. We should be
sorry if we had cause to be disgusted with your actions, and if we were
compelled to make you a stranger to the ancient good affection which we
bore to your late father, and have continued towards yourself."
But Maurice maintained a dignified attitude, worthy of his great father's
name. He was not the man to crouch like Leicester, when he could no
longer refresh himself in the "shadow of the Queen's golden beams,"
important as he knew her friendship to be to himself and his country.
So he defended himself in a manly letter to the privy council against the
censures of Elizabeth. He avowed his displeasure, that, within his own
jurisdiction, Sonoy should give a special oath of obedience to Leicester;
a thing never done before in the country, and entirely illegal. It would
not even be tolerated in England, he said, if a private gentleman should
receive a military appointment in Warwickshire or Norfolk without the
knowledge of the lord-lieutenant of the shire. He had treated the
contumacious Sonoy with mildness during a long period, but without
effect. He had abstained from violence towards him, out of reverence to
the Queen, under whose sacred name he sheltered himself. Sonoy had not
desisted, but had established himself in organized rebellion at
Medenblik, declaring that he would drown the whole country, and levy
black-mail upon its whole property, if he were not paid one hundred
thousand crowns. He had declared that he would crush Holland like a
glass beneath his feet. Having nothing but religion in his mouth, and
protecting himself with the Queen's name, he had been exciting all the
cities of North Holland to rebellion, and bringing the poor people to
destruction. He had been offered money enough to satisfy the most
avaricious soldier in the world, but he stood out for six years' full
pay for his soldiers, a demand with which it was impossible to comply.
It was necessary to prevent him from inundating the land and destroying
the estates of the country gentlemen and the peasants. "This gentlemen,"
said Maurice, "is the plain truth; nor do I believe that you will sustain
against me a man who was under such vast obligations to my late father,
and who requites his debt by daring to speak of myself as a rascal; or
that you will countenance his rebellion against a country to which he
brought only, his cloak and sword, and, whence he has filched one hundred
thousand crowns. You will not, I am sure, permit a simple captain, by
his insubordination to cause such mischief, and to set on fire this and
other Provinces.
"If, by your advice," continued the Count; "the Queen should appoint
fitting' personages to office here--men who know what honour is; born
of illustrious and noble-race, or who by their great virtue have been
elevated to the honours of the kingdom--to them I will render an account
of my actions. And it shall appear that I have more ability and more
desire to do my duty, to her Majesty than those who render her lip-
service only, and only make use of her sacred name to fill their purses,
while I and, mine have been ever ready to employ our lives, and what
remains of our fortunes, in the cause of God, her Majesty, and our
country."
Certainly no man had a better right: to speak with consciousness of the
worth of race than the son of William the Silent, the nephew of Lewis,
Adolphus, and Henry of Nassau, who had all laid down their lives for
the liberty of their country. But Elizabeth continued to threaten the
States-General, through the mouth of Willoughby, with the loss of her
protection, if they should continue thus to requite her favours with
ingratitude and insubordination: and Maurice once more respectfully but
firmly replied that Sonoy's rebellion could not and would not be
tolerated; appealing boldly to her sense of justice, which was the
noblest attribute of kings.
At last the Queen informed Willoughby, that--as the cause of Sonoy's
course seemed to be his oath of obedience to Leicester, whose resignation
of office had not yet been received in the Netherlands--she had now
ordered Councillor Killigrew to communicate the fact of that resignation.
She also wrote to Sonoy, requiring him to obey the States and Count
Maurice, and to accept a fresh commission from them, or at least to
surrender Medenblik, and to fulfil all their orders with zeal and
docility.
This act of abdication by Leicester, which had been received on the 22nd
of January by the English envoy, Herbert, at the moment of his departure
from the Netherlands, had been carried back by him to England, on the
ground that its communication to the States at that moment would cause
him inconveniently to postpone his journey. It never officially reached
the States-General until the 31st of March, so that this most dangerous
crisis was protracted nearly five months long--certainly without
necessity or excuse--and whether through design, malice, wantonness,
or incomprehensible carelessness, it is difficult to say.
So soon as the news reached Sonoy, that contumacious chieftain found his
position untenable, and he allowed the States' troops to take possession
of Medenblik, and with it the important territory of North Holland.
Maurice now saw himself undisputed governor. Sonoy was in the course of
the summer deprived of all office, and betook himself to England. Here
he was kindly received by the Queen, who bestowed upon him a ruined
tower, and a swamp among the fens of Lincolnshire. He brought over some
of his countrymen, well-skilled in such operations, set himself to
draining and dyking, and hoped to find himself at home and comfortable in
his ruined tower. But unfortunately, as neither he nor his wife,
notwithstanding their English proclivities, could speak a word of the
language; they found their social enjoyments very limited. Moreover,
as his work-people were equally without the power of making their wants
understood, the dyking operations made but little progress. So the
unlucky colonel soon abandoned his swamp, and retired to East Friesland,
where he lived a morose and melancholy life on a pension of one thousand
florins, granted him by the States of Holland, until the year 1597, when
he lost his mind, fell into the fire, and thus perished.
And thus; in the Netherlands, through hollow negotiations between enemies
and ill-timed bickerings among friends, the path of Philip and Parma had
been made comparatively smooth during the spring and early summer of
1588. What was the aspect of affairs in Germany and France?
The adroit capture of Bonn by Martin Schenk had given much trouble.
Parma was obliged to detach a strong force; under Prince Chimay, to
attempt the recovery of that important place, which--so long as it
remained in the power of the States--rendered the whole electorate
insecure and a source of danger to the Spanish party. Farnese
endeavoured in vain to win back the famous partizan by most liberal
offers, for he felt bitterly the mistake he had made in alienating so
formidable a freebooter. But the truculent Martin remained obdurate and
irascible. Philip, much offended that the news of his decease had proved
false, ordered rather than requested the Emperor Rudolph to have a care
that nothing was done in Germany to interfere with the great design upon
England. The King gave warning that he would suffer no disturbance from
that quarter, but certainly the lethargic condition of Germany rendered
such threats superfluous. There were riders enough, and musketeers
enough, to be sold to the highest bidder. German food for powder was
offered largely in the market to any foreign consumer, for the trade in
their subjects', lives was ever a prolific source of revenue to the petty
sovereigns--numerous as the days of the year--who owned Germany and the
Germans.
The mercenaries who had so recently been, making their inglorious
campaign in France had been excluded from that country at the close of
1587, and furious were the denunciations of the pulpits and the populace
of Paris that the foreign brigands who had been devastating the soil of
France, and attempting to oppose the decrees of the Holy Father of Rome,
should; have made their escape so easily. Rabid Lincestre and other
priests and monks foamed with rage, as they execrated and anathematized
the devil-worshipper Henry of Valois, in all the churches of that
monarch's capital. The Spanish ducats were flying about, more profusely
than ever, among the butchers and porters, and fishwomen, of the great
city; and Madam League paraded herself in the day-light with still
increasing insolence. There was scarcely a pretence at recognition of
any authority, save that of Philip and Sixtus. France had become a
wilderness--an uncultivated, barbarous province of Spain. Mucio--Guise
had been secretly to Rome, had held interviews with the Pope and
cardinals, and had come back with a sword presented by his Holiness,
its hilt adorned with jewels, and its blade engraved with tongues of
fire. And with this flaming sword the avenging messenger of the holy
father was to smite the wicked, and to drive them into outer darkness.
And there had been fresh conferences among the chiefs of the sacred
League within the Lorraine territory, and it was resolved to require of
the Valois an immediate extermination of heresy and heretics throughout
the kingdom, the publication of the Council of Trent, and the formal
establishment of the Holy Inquisition in every province of France. Thus,
while doing his Spanish master's bidding, the great Lieutenant of the
league might, if he was adroit enough, to outwit Philip, ultimately carve
out a throne for himself.
Yet Philip felt occasional pangs of uneasiness lest there should, after
all, be peace in France, and lest his schemes against Holland and England
might be interfered with from that quarter. Even Farnese, nearer the
scene, could, not feel completely secure that a sudden reconciliation
among contending factions might not give rise to a dangerous inroad
across the Flemish border. So Guise was plied more vigourously than ever
by the Duke with advice and encouragement, and assisted with such Walloon
carabineers as could be spared, while large subsidies and larger promises
came from Philip, whose prudent policy was never to pay excessive sums,
until the work contracted for was done. "Mucio must do the job long
since agreed upon," said Philip to Farnese, "and you and Mendoza must see
that he prevents the King of France from troubling me in my enterprize
against England." If the unlucky Henry III. had retained one spark of
intelligence, he would have seen that his only chance of rescue lay in
the arm of the Bearnese, and in an honest alliance with England. Yet
so strong was his love for the monks, who were daily raving against him,
that he was willing to commit any baseness, in order to win back their
affection. He was ready to exterminate heresy and to establish the
inquisition, but he was incapable of taking energetic measures of any
kind, even when throne and life were in imminent peril. Moreover, he
clung to Epernon and the 'politiques,' in whose swords he alone found
protection, and he knew that Epernon and the 'politiques' were the
objects of horror to Paris and to the League. At the same time he looked
imploringly towards England and towards the great Huguenot chieftain,
Elizabeth's knight-errant. He had a secret interview with Sir Edward
Stafford, in the garden of the Bernardino convent, and importuned that
envoy to implore the Queen to break off her negotiations with Philip, and
even dared to offer the English ambassador a large reward, if such a
result could be obtained. Stafford was also earnestly, requested to
beseech the Queen's influence with Henry of Navarre, that he should
convert himself to Catholicism, and thus destroy the League.
On the other hand, the magniloquent Mendoza, who was fond of describing
himself as "so violent and terrible to the French that they wished to be
rid of him," had--as usual--been frightening the poor King, who, after a
futile attempt at dignity, had shrunk before the blusterings of the
ambassador. "This King," said Don Bernardino, "thought that he could
impose, upon me and silence me, by talking loud, but as I didn't talk
softly to him, he has undeceived himself . . . . I have had another
interview with him, and found him softer than silk, and he made me many
caresses, and after I went out, he said that I was a very skilful
minister."
It was the purpose of the League to obtain possession of the King's
person, and, if necessary, to dispose of the 'politiques' by a general
massacre, such as sixteen years before had been so successful in the case
of Coligny and the Huguenots. So the populace--more rabid than ever--
were impatient that their adored Balafre should come to Paris and begin
the holy work.
He came as far as Gonesse to do the job he had promised to Philip, but
having heard that Henry had reinforced himself with four thousand Swiss
from the garrison of Lagny, he fell back to Soissons. The King sent him
a most abject message, imploring him not to expose his sovereign to so
much danger, by setting his foot at that moment in the capital. The
Balafre hesitated, but the populace raved and roared for its darling.
The Queen-Mother urged her unhappy son to yield his consent, and the
Montpensier--fatal sister of Guise, with the famous scissors ever at her
girdle--insisted that her brother had as good a right as any man to come
to the city. Meantime the great chief of the 'politiques,' the hated and
insolent Epernon, had been appointed governor of Normandy, and Henry had
accompanied his beloved minion a part of the way towards Rouen. A plot
contrived by the Montpensier to waylay the monarch on his return, and to
take him into the safe-keeping of the League, miscarried, for the King
reentered the city before the scheme was ripe. On the other hand,
Nicholas Poulain, bought for twenty thousand crowns by the 'politiques,'
gave the King and his advisers-full information of all these intrigues,
and, standing in Henry's cabinet, offered, at peril of his life, if he
might be confronted with the conspirators--the leaders of the League
within the city--to prove the truth of the charges which he had made.
For the whole city was now thoroughly organized. The number of its
districts had been reduced from sixteen to five, the better to bring it
under the control of the League; and, while it could not be denied that
Mucio, had, been doing his master's work very thoroughly, yet it was
still in the power of the King--through the treachery of Poulain--to
strike a blow for life and freedom, before he was quite, taken in the
trap. But he stood helpless, paralyzed, gazing in dreamy stupor--like
one fascinated at the destruction awaiting him.
At last, one memorable May morning, a traveller alighted outside the gate
of Saint Martin, and proceeded on foot through the streets of Paris. He
was wrapped in a large cloak, which he held carefully over his face.
When he had got as far as the street of Saint Denis, a young gentleman
among the passers by, a good Leaguer, accosted the stranger, and with
coarse pleasantry, plucked the cloak from his face, and the hat from his
head. Looking at the handsome, swarthy features, marked with a deep
scar, and the dark, dangerous eyes which were then revealed, the
practical jester at once recognized in the simple traveller the terrible
Balafre, and kissed the hem of his garments with submissive rapture.
Shouts of "Vive Guise" rent the air from all the bystanders, as the Duke,
no longer affecting concealment, proceeded with a slow and stately step
toward the residence of Catharine de' Medici.' That queen of compromises
and of magic had been holding many a conference with the leaders of both
parties; had been increasing her son's stupefaction by her enigmatical
counsels; had been anxiously consulting her talisman of goat's and human
blood, mixed with metals melted under the influence of the star of her
nativity, and had been daily visiting the wizard Ruggieri, in whose magic
circle--peopled with a thousand fantastic heads--she had held high
converse with the world of spirits, and derived much sound advice as to
the true course of action to be pursued between her son and Philip, and
between the politicians and the League. But, in spite of these various
sources of instruction, Catharine--was somewhat perplexed, now that
decisive action seemed necessary--a dethronement and a new massacre
impending, and judicious compromise difficult. So after a hurried
conversation with Mucio, who insisted on an interview with the King, she
set forth for the Louvre, the Duke lounging calmly by the aide of her,
sedan chair, on foot, receiving the homage of the populace, as men,
women, and children together, they swarmed around him as he walked,
kissing his garments, and rending the air with their shouts. For that
wolfish mob of Paris, which had once lapped the blood of ten thousand
Huguenots in a single night, and was again rabid with thirst, was most
docile and fawning to the great Balafre. It grovelled before him, it
hung upon his look, it licked his hand, and, at the lifting of his
finger, or the glance of his eye, would have sprung at the throat of King
or Queen-Mother, minister, or minion, and devoured them all before his
eyes. It was longing for the sign, for, much as Paris adored and was
besotted with Guise and the League, even more, if possible, did it hate
those godless politicians, who had grown fat on extortions from the poor,
and who had converted their substance into the daily bread of luxury.
Nevertheless the city was full of armed men, Swiss and German
mercenaries, and burgher guards, sworn to fidelity to the throne. The
place might have been swept clean, at that moment, of rebels who were not
yet armed or fortified in their positions. The Lord had delivered Guise
into Henry's hands. "Oh, the madman!"--cried Sixtus V., when he heard
that the Duke had gone to Paris, "thus to put himself into the clutches
of the King whom he had so deeply offended!" And, "Oh, the wretched
coward, the imbecile?" he added, when he heard how the King had dealt
with his great enemy.
For the monarch was in his cabinet that May morning, irresolutely
awaiting the announced visit of the Duke. By his aide stood Alphonse
Corse, attached as a mastiff to his master, and fearing not Guise nor
Leaguer, man nor devil.
"Sire, is the Duke of Guise your friend or enemy?" said Alphonse. The
King answered by an expressive shrug.
"Say the word, Sire," continued Alphonse, "and I pledge myself to bring
his head this instant, and lay it at your feet."
And he would have done it. Even at the side of Catharine's sedan chair,
and in the very teeth of the worshipping mob, the Corsican would have had
the Balafre's life, even though he laid down his own.
But Henry--irresolute and fascinated--said it was not yet time for such a
blow.
Soon afterward; the Duke was announced. The chief of the League and the
last of the Valois met, face to face; but not for the last time. The
interview--was coldly respectful on the part of Mucio, anxious and
embarrassed on that of the King. When the visit, which was merely one
of ceremony, was over, the Duke departed as he came, receiving the
renewed homage of the populace as he walked to his hotel.
That night precautions were taken. All the guards were doubled around
the palace and through the streets. The Hotel de Ville and the Place de
la Greve were made secure, and the whole city was filled with troops.
But the Place Maubert was left unguarded, and a rabble rout--all night
long--was collecting in that distant spot. Four companies of burgher-
guards went over to the League at three o'clock in the morning. The rest
stood firm in the cemetery of the Innocents, awaiting the orders of the
King. At day-break on the 11th the town was still quiet. There was an
awful pause of expectation. The shops remained closed all the morning,
the royal troops were drawn up in battle-array, upon the Greve and around
the Hotel de Ville, but they stood motionless as statues, until the
populace began taunting them with cowardice, and then laughing them to
scorn. For their sovereign lord and master still sat paralyzed in his
palace.
The mob had been surging through all the streets and lanes, until,
as by a single impulse, chains were stretched across the streets, and
barricades thrown up in all the principal thoroughfares. About noon the
Duke of Guise, who had been sitting quietly in his hotel, with a very few
armed followers, came out into the street of the Hotel Montmorency, and
walked calmly up and down, arm-in-aim with the Archbishop of Lyons,
between a double hedge-row of spectators and admirers, three or four
ranks thick. He was dressed in a white slashed doublet and hose, and
wore a very large hat. Shouts of triumph resounded from a thousand
brazen throats, as he moved calmly about, receiving, at every instant,
expresses from the great gathering in the Place Maubert.
"Enough, too much, my good friends," he said, taking off the great hat--
("I don't know whether he was laughing in it," observed one who was
looking on that day)--"Enough of 'Long live Guise!' Cry 'Long live the
King!'"
There was no response, as might be expected, and the people shouted more
hoarsely than ever for Madam League and the Balafre. The Duke's face was
full of gaiety; there was not a shadow of anxiety upon it in that
perilous and eventful moment. He saw that the day was his own.
For now, the people, ripe, ready; mustered, armed, barricaded; awaited
but a signal to assault the King's mercenaries, before rushing to the
palace: On every house-top missiles were provided to hurl upon their
heads. There seemed no escape for Henry or his Germans from impending
doom, when Guise, thoroughly triumphant, vouchsafed them their lives.
"You must give me these soldiers as a present, my friends," said he to
the populace.
And so the armed Swiss, French, and German troopers and infantry,
submitted to be led out of Paris, following with docility the aide-de-
camp of Guise, Captain St. Paul, who walked quietly before them, with his
sword in its scabbard, and directing their movements with a cane. Sixty
of them were slain by the mob, who could not, even at the command of
their beloved chieftain, quite forego their expected banquet. But this
was all the blood shed on the memorable day of Barricades, when another
Bartholomew massacre had been, expected.
Meantime; while Guise was making his promenade through the city,
exchanging embraces with the rabble; and listening to the coarse
congratulations and obscene jests of the porters and fishwomen, the poor
King sat crying all day long in the Louvre. The Queen-Mother was with
him, reproaching him bitterly with his irresolution and want of
confidences in her, and scolding him for his tears. But the unlucky
Henry only wept the more as he cowered in a corner.
"These are idle tears," said Catherine. "This is no time for crying.
And for myself, though women weep so easily; I feel my heart too deeply
wrung for tears. If they came to my eyes they would be tears of blood."
Next day the last Valois walked-out, of the Louvre; as if for a promenade
in, the Tuileries, and proceeded straightway to the stalls, where his
horse stood saddled. Du Halde, his equerry, buckled his master's spurs
on upside down. "No; matter;" said Henry; "I am not riding to see my
mistress. I have a longer journey before me."
And so, followed by a rabble rout of courtiers, without boots or cloaks;
and mounted on, sorry hacks--the King-of France rode forth from his
capital post-haste, and turning as he left the gates, hurled back
impotent imprecations upon Paris and its mob. Thenceforth, for a long
interval, there: was no king in that country. Mucio had done his work,
and earned his wages, and Philip II. reigned in Paris. The commands
of the League were now complied with. Heretics were doomed to
extermination. The edict of 19th July, 1588, was published with the most
exclusive and stringent provisions that the most bitter Romanist could
imagine, and, as a fair beginning; two young girls, daughters of Jacques
Forcade, once 'procureur au parlement,' were burned in Paris, for the
crime, of Protestantism. The Duke of Guise was named Generalissimo of
the Kingdom (26th August, 1588). Henry gave in his submission to
the Council of Trent, the edicts, the Inquisition, and the rest of
the League's infernal machinery, and was formally reconciled.
to Guise, with how much sincerity time was soon to show.
[The King bound himself by oath to extirpate heresy, to remove all
persons suspected of that crime from office, and never to lay down
arms so long as a single, heretic remained. By secret articles,'two
armies against the Huguenots were agreed upon, one under the Duke of
Mayenne, the other under some general to be appointed by the grog.
The Council of Trent was forthwith to be proclaimed, and by a
refinement of malice the League stipulated that all officers
appointed in Paris by the Duke of Guise on the day after the
barricades should resign their powers, and be immediately re-
appointed by the King himself (DeThou, x.1. 86, pp. 324-325.)]