Assumption of affairs by the state council at Brussels--Hesitation
at Madrid--Joachim Hopper--Mal-administration--Vigilance of Orange--
The provinces drawn more closely together--Inequality of the
conflict--Physical condition of Holland--New act of Union between
Holland and Zealand--Authority of the Prince defined and enlarged--
Provincial polity characterized--Generous sentiments of the Prince--
His tolerant spirit--Letters from the King--Attitude of the great
powers towards the Netherlands--Correspondence and policy of
Elizabeth--Secret negotiations with France and Alencon--Confused and
menacing aspect of Germany--Responsible, and laborious position of
Orange--Attempt to relieve Zierickzee--Death of Admiral Boisot--
Capitulation of the city upon honourable terms--Mutiny of the
Spanish troops in Schouwen--General causes of discontent--Alarming
increase of the mutiny--The rebel regiments enter Brabant--Fruitless
attempts to pacify them--They take possession of Alost--Edicts,
denouncing them, from the state council--Intense excitement in
Brussels and Antwerp--Letters from Philip brought by Marquis Havre--
The King's continued procrastination--Ruinous royal confirmation of
the authority assumed by the state council--United and general
resistance to foreign military oppression--The German troops and the
Antwerp garrison, under Avila, join the revolt--Letter of Verdugo--
A crisis approaching--Jerome de Roda in the citadel--The mutiny
universal.
The death of Requesens, notwithstanding his four days' illness, occurred
so suddenly, that he had not had time to appoint his successor. Had he
exercised this privilege, which his patent conferred upon him, it was
supposed that he would have nominated Count Mansfeld to exercise the
functions of Governor-General, until the King should otherwise ordain.
In the absence of any definite arrangement, the Council of State,
according to a right which that body claimed from custom, assumed the
reins of government. Of the old board, there were none left but the Duke
of Aerschot, Count Berlaymont, and Viglins. To these were soon added,
however, by royal diploma, the Spaniard, Jerome de Roda, and the
Netherlanders, Assonleville, Baron Rassenghiem and Arnold Sasbout.
Thus, all the members, save one, of what had now become the executive
body, were natives of the country. Roda was accordingly looked askance
upon by his colleagues. He was regarded by Viglius as a man who desired
to repeat the part which had been played by Juan Vargas in the Blood
Council, while the other members, although stanch Catholics, were all of
them well-disposed to vindicate the claim of Netherland nobles to a share
in the government of the Netherlands.
For a time, therefore, the transfer of authority seemed to have been
smoothly accomplished. The Council of State conducted the administration
of the country. Peter Ernest Mansfeld was entrusted with the supreme
military command, including the government of Brussels; and the Spanish
commanders; although dissatisfied that any but a Spaniard should be thus
honored, were for a time quiescent. When the news reached Madrid, Philip
was extremely disconcerted. The death of Requesens excited his
indignation. He was angry with him, not for dying, but for dying at so
very inconvenient a moment. He had not yet fully decided either upon his
successor, or upon the policy to be enforced by his successor. There
were several candidates for the vacant post; there was a variety of
opinions in the cabinet as to the course of conduct to be adopted. In the
impossibility of instantly making up his mind upon this unexpected
emergency, Philip fell, as it were, into a long reverie, than which
nothing could be more inopportune. With a country in a state of
revolution and exasperation, the trance, which now seemed to come
over the government, was like to be followed by deadly effects.
The stationary policy, which the death of Requesens had occasioned,
was allowed to prolong itself indefinitely, and almost for the first
time in his life, Joachim Hopper was really consulted about the affairs
of that department over which he imagined himself, and was generally
supposed by others, to preside at Madrid. The creature of Viglius,
having all the subserviency, with none of the acuteness of his patron,
he had been long employed as chief of the Netherland bureau, while kept
in profound ignorance of the affairs which were transacted in his office.
He was a privy councillor, whose counsels were never heeded,
a confidential servant in whom the King reposed confidence, only on the
ground that no man could reveal secrets which he did not know. This
deportment of the King's showed that he had accurately measured the man,
for Hopper was hardly competent for the place of a chief clerk. He was
unable to write clearly in any language, because incapable of a fully
developed thought upon any subject. It may be supposed that nothing but
an abortive policy, therefore, would be produced upon the occasion thus
suddenly offered. "'Tis a devout man, that poor Master Hopper," said
Granvelle, "but rather fitted for platonic researches than for affairs of
state."
It was a proof of this incompetency, that now, when really called upon
for advice in an emergency, he should recommend a continuance of the
interim. Certainly nothing worse could be devised. Granvelle
recommended a reappointment of the Duchess Margaret. Others suggested
Duke Eric of Brunswick, or an Archduke of the Austrian house; although
the opinion held by most of the influential councillors was in favor of
Don John of Austria. In the interests of Philip and his despotism,
nothing, at any rate, could be more fatal than delay. In the condition of
affairs which then existed, the worst or feeblest governor would have
been better than none at all. To leave a vacancy was to play directly
into the hands of Orange, for it was impossible that so skilful an
adversary should not at once perceive the fault, and profit by it to the
utmost. It was strange that Philip did not see the danger of inactivity
at such a crisis. Assuredly, indolence was never his vice, but on this
occasion indecision did the work of indolence. Unwittingly, the despot
was assisting the efforts of the liberator. Viglius saw the position of
matters with his customary keenness, and wondered at the blindness of
Hopper and Philip. At the last gasp of a life, which neither learning
nor the accumulation of worldly prizes and worldly pelf could redeem from
intrinsic baseness, the sagacious but not venerable old man saw that a
chasm was daily widening; in which the religion and the despotism which
he loved might soon be hopelessly swallowed. "The Prince of Orange and
his Beggars do not sleep," he cried, almost in anguish; "nor will they be
quiet till they have made use of this interregnum to do us some immense
grievance." Certainly the Prince of Orange did not sleep upon this nor
any other great occasion of his life. In his own vigorous language, used
to stimulate his friends in various parts of the country, he seized the
swift occasion by the forelock. He opened a fresh correspondence with
many leading gentlemen in Brussels and other places in the Netherlands;
persons of influence, who now, for the first time, showed a disposition
to side with their country against its tyrants. Hitherto the land had
been divided into two very unequal portions. Holland and Zealand were
devoted to the Prince; their whole population, with hardly an individual
exception, converted to the Reformed religion. The other fifteen
provinces were, on the whole, loyal to the King; while the old religion
had, of late years, taken root so rapidly again, that perhaps a moiety of
their population might be considered as Catholic. At the same time, the
reign of terror under Alva, the paler, but not less distinct tyranny of
Requesens, and the intolerable excesses of the foreign soldiery, by which
the government of foreigners was supported, had at last maddened all the
inhabitants of the seventeen provinces. Notwithstanding, therefore, the
fatal difference of religious opinion, they were all drawn into closer
relations with each other; to regain their ancient privileges, and to
expel the detested foreigners from the soil, being objects common to all.
The provinces were united in one great hatred and one great hope.
The Hollanders and Zealanders, under their heroic leader, had well nigh
accomplished both tasks, so far as those little provinces were concerned.
Never had a contest, however, seemed more hopeless at its commencement.
Cast a glance at the map. Look at Holland--not the Republic, with its
sister provinces beyond the Zuyder Zee--but Holland only, with the
Zealand archipelago. Look at that narrow tongue of half-submerged earth.
Who could suppose that upon that slender sand-bank, one hundred and
twenty miles in length, and varying in breadth from four miles to forty,
one man, backed by the population of a handful of cities, could do battle
nine years long with the master of two worlds, the "Dominator Of Asia,
Africa, and America"--the despot of the fairest realms of Europe--and
conquer him at last. Nor was William even entirely master of that narrow
shoal where clung the survivors of a great national shipwreck. North and
South Holland were cut in two by the loss of Harlem, while the enemy was
in possession of the natural capital of the little country, Amsterdam.
The Prince affirmed that the cause had suffered more from the disloyalty
of Amsterdam than from all the efforts of the enemy.
Moreover, the country was in a most desolate condition. It was almost
literally a sinking ship. The destruction of the bulwarks against the
ocean had been so extensive, in consequence of the voluntary inundations
which have been described in previous pages, and by reason of the general
neglect which more vital occupations had necessitated, that an enormous
outlay, both of labor and money, was now indispensable to save the
physical existence of the country. The labor and the money,
notwithstanding the crippled and impoverished condition of the nation,
were, however, freely contributed; a wonderful example of energy and
patient heroism was again exhibited. The dykes which had been swept
away in every direction were renewed at a vast expense. Moreover, the
country, in the course of recent events, had become almost swept bare of
its cattle, and it was necessary to pass a law forbidding, for a
considerable period, the slaughter of any animals, "oxen, cows, calves,
sheep, or poultry." It was, unfortunately, not possible to provide by
law against that extermination of the human population which had been
decreed by Philip and the Pope.
Such was the physical and moral condition of the provinces of Holland and
Zealand. The political constitution of both assumed, at this epoch, a
somewhat altered aspect. The union between the two states; effected in
June, 1575, required improvement. The administration of justice, the
conflicts of laws, and more particularly the levying of monies and troops
in equitable proportions, had not been adjusted with perfect smoothness.
The estates of the two provinces, assembled in congress at Delft,
concluded, therefore, a new act of union, which was duly signed upon the
25th of April, 1576. Those estates, consisting of the knights and nobles
of Holland, with the deputies from the cities and countships of Holland
and Zealand, had been duly summoned by the Prince of Orange. They as
fairly included all the political capacities, and furnished as copious
a representation of the national will, as could be expected, for it is
apparent upon every page of his history, that the Prince, upon all
occasions, chose to refer his policy to the approval and confirmation
of as large a portion of the people as any man in those days considered
capable or desirous of exercising political functions.
The new, union consisted of eighteen articles. It was established that
deputies from all the estates should meet, when summoned by the Prince of
Orange or otherwise, on penalty of fine, and at the risk of measures
binding upon them being passed by the rest of the Congress. Freshly
arising causes of litigation were to be referred to the Prince. Free
intercourse and traffic through the united provinces was guaranteed.
The confederates were mutually to assist each other in preventing all
injustice, wrong, or violence, even towards an enemy. The authority of
law and the pure administration of justice were mutually promised by the
contracting states. The common expenses were to be apportioned among the
different provinces, "as if they were all included in the republic of a
single city." Nine commissioners, appointed by the Prince on nomination
by the estates, were to sit permanently, as his advisers, and as
assessors and collectors of the taxes. The tenure of the union was from
six months to six months, with six weeks notice.
The framers of this compact having thus defined the general outlines of
the confederacy, declared that the government, thus constituted, should
be placed under a single head. They accordingly conferred supreme
authority on the Prince, defining his powers in eighteen articles. He
was declared chief commander by land and sea. He was to appoint all
officers, from generals to subalterns, and to pay them at his discretion.
The whole protection of the land was devolved upon him. He was to send
garrisons or troops into every city and village at his pleasure, without
advice or consent of the estates, magistrates of the cities, or any other
persons whatsoever. He was, in behalf of the King as Count of Holland
and Zealand, to cause justice to be administered by the supreme court.
In the same capacity he was to provide for vacancies in all political
and judicial offices of importance, choosing, with the advice of the
estates, one officer for each vacant post out of three candidates
nominated to him by that body. He was to appoint and renew, at the
usual times, the magistracies in the cities, according to the ancient
constitutions. He was to make changes in those boards, if necessary,
at unusual times, with consent of the majority of those representing
the great council and corpus of the said cities. He was to uphold the
authority and pre-eminence of all civil functionaries, and to prevent
governors and military officers from taking any cognizance of political
or judicial affairs. With regard to religion, he was to maintain the
practice of the Reformed Evangelical religion, and to cause to surcease
the exercise of all other religions contrary to the Gospel. He was,
however, not to permit that inquisition should be made into any man's
belief or conscience, or that any man by cause thereof should suffer
trouble, injury, or hindrance.
The league thus concluded was a confederation between a group of
virtually independent little republics. Each municipality, was, as it
were, a little sovereign, sending envoys to a congress to vote and to
sign as plenipotentiaries. The vote of each city was, therefore,
indivisible, and it mattered little, practically, whether there were
one deputy or several. The nobles represented not only their own order,
but were supposed to act also in behalf of the rural population. On the
whole, there was a tolerably fair representation of the whole nation.
The people were well and worthily represented in the government of each
city, and therefore equally so in the assembly of the estates. It was
not till later that the corporations, by the extinction of the popular
element, and by the usurpation of the right of self-election, were
thoroughly stiffened into fictitious personages which never died, and
which were never thoroughly alive.
At this epoch the provincial liberties, so far as they could maintain
themselves against Spanish despotism, were practical and substantial.
The government was a representative one, in which all those who had the
inclination possessed, in one mode or another, a voice. Although the
various members of the confederacy were locally and practically republics
or self-governed little commonwealths, the general government which they,
established was, in form, monarchical. The powers conferred upon Orange
constituted him a sovereign ad interim, for while the authority of the
Spanish monarch remained suspended, the Prince was invested, not only
with the whole executive and appointing power, but even with a very large
share in the legislative functions of the state.
The whole system was rather practical than theoretical, without any
accurate distribution of political powers. In living, energetic
communities, where the blood of the body politic circulates swiftly,
there is an inevitable tendency of the different organs to sympathize
and commingle more closely than a priori philosophy would allow.
It is usually more desirable than practicable to keep the executive,
legislative, and judicial departments entirely independent of
each other.
Certainly, the Prince of Orange did not at that moment indulge in
speculations concerning the nature and origin of government. The
Congress of Delft had just clothed him with almost regal authority.
In his hands were the powers of war and peace, joint control of the
magistracies and courts of justice, absolute supremacy over the army and
the fleets. It is true that these attributes had been conferred upon him
ad interim, but it depended only upon himself to make the sovereignty
personal and permanent. He was so thoroughly absorbed in his work,
however, that he did not even see the diadem which he put aside.
It was small matter to him whether they called him stadholder or
guardian, prince or king. He was the father of his country and its
defender. The people, from highest to lowest, called him "Father
William," and the title was enough for him. The question with him was
not what men should call him, but how he should best accomplish his task.
So little was he inspired by the sentiment of self-elevation, that he was
anxiously seeking for a fitting person--strong, wise, and willing enough
--to exercise the sovereignty which was thrust upon himself, but which he
desired to exchange against an increased power to be actively useful to
his country. To expel the foreign oppressor; to strangle the
Inquisition; to maintain the ancient liberties of the nation; here was
labor enough for his own hands. The vulgar thought of carving a throne
out of the misfortunes of his country seems not to have entered his mind.
Upon one point, however, the Prince had been peremptory. He would have
no persecution of the opposite creed. He was requested to suppress the
Catholic religion, in terms. As we have seen, he caused the expression
to be exchanged for the words, "religion at variance with the Gospel."
He resolutely stood out against all meddling with men's consciences,
or inquiring into their thoughts. While smiting the Spanish Inquisition
into the dust, he would have no Calvinist inquisition set up in its
place. Earnestly a convert to the Reformed religion, but hating and
denouncing only what was corrupt in the ancient Church, he would not
force men, with fire and sword, to travel to heaven upon his own road.
Thought should be toll-free. Neither monk nor minister should burn,
drown, or hang his fellow-creatures, when argument or expostulation
failed to redeem them from error. It was no small virtue, in that age,
to rise to such a height. We know what Calvinists, Zwinglians,
Lutherans, have done in the Netherlands, in Germany, in Switzerland, and
almost a century later in New England. It is, therefore, with increased
veneration that we regard this large and truly catholic mind. His
tolerance proceeded from no indifference. No man can read his private
writings, or form a thorough acquaintance with his interior life, without
recognizing him as a deeply religious man. He had faith unfaltering in
God. He had also faith in man and love for his brethren. It was no
wonder that in that age of religious bigotry he should have been
assaulted on both sides. While the Pope excommunicated him as a heretic,
and the King set a price upon his head as a rebel, the fanatics of the
new religion denounced him as a godless man. Peter Dathenus, the
unfrocked monk of Poperingen, shrieked out in his pulpit that the
"Prince of Orange cared nothing either for God or for religion."
The death of Requesens had offered the first opening through which the
watchful Prince could hope to inflict a wound in the vital part of
Spanish authority in the Netherlands. The languor of Philip and the
procrastinating counsel of the dull Hopper unexpectedly widened the
opening. On the 24th of March letters were written by his Majesty to the
states-general, to the provincial estates, and to the courts of justice,
instructing them that, until further orders, they were all to obey the
Council of State. The King was confident that all would do their utmost
to assist that body in securing the holy Catholic Faith and the implicit
obedience of the country to its sovereign. He would, in the meantime,
occupy himself with the selection of a new Governor-General, who should
be of his family and blood. This uncertain and perilous condition of
things was watched with painful interest in neighbouring countries.
The fate of all nations was more or less involved in the development of
the great religious contest now waging in the Netherlands. England and
France watched each other's movements in the direction of the provinces
with intense jealousy. The Protestant Queen was the natural ally of the
struggling Reformers, but her despotic sentiments were averse to the
fostering of rebellion against the Lord's anointed. The thrifty Queen
looked with alarm at the prospect of large subsidies which would
undoubtedly be demanded of her. The jealous Queen could as ill brook the
presence of the French in the Netherlands as that of the Spaniards whom
they were to expel. She therefore embarrassed, as usual, the operations
of the Prince by a course of stale political coquetry. She wrote to him,
on the 18th of March, soon after the news of the Grand Commander's death,
saying that she could not yet accept the offer which had been made to
her, to take the provinces of Holland and Zealand under her safe keeping,
to assume, as Countess, the sovereignty over them, and to protect the
inhabitants against the alleged tyranny of the King of Spain. She was
unwilling to do so until she had made every effort to reconcile them with
that sovereign. Before the death of Requesens she had been intending to
send him an envoy, proposing a truce, for the purpose of negotiation.
This purpose she still retained. She should send commissioners to the
Council of State and to the new Governor, when he should arrive. She
should also send a special envoy to the King of Spain. She doubted not
that the King would take her advice, when he heard her speak in such
straightforward language. In the meantime, she hoped that they would
negotiate with no other powers.
This was not very satisfactory. The Queen rejected the offers to
herself, but begged that they might, by no means, be made to her rivals.
The expressed intention of softening the heart of Philip by the use of
straightforward language seemed but a sorry sarcasm. It was hardly worth
while to wait long for so improbable a result. Thus much for England at
that juncture. Not inimical, certainly; but over-cautious, ungenerous,
teasing, and perplexing, was the policy of the maiden Queen. With regard
to France, events there seemed to favor the hopes of Orange. On the 14th
of May, the "Peace of Monsieur," the treaty by which so ample but so
short-lived a triumph was achieved by the Huguenots, was signed at Paris.
Everything was conceded, but nothing was secured. Rights of worship,
rights of office, political and civil, religious enfranchisement, were
recovered, but not guaranteed. It seemed scarcely possible that the King
could be in earnest then, even if a Medicean Valois could ever be
otherwise than treacherous. It was almost, certain, therefore, that a
reaction would take place; but it is easier for us, three centuries after
the event, to mark the precise moment of reaction, than it was for the
most far-seeing contemporary to foretell how soon it would occur. In the
meantime, it was the Prince's cue to make use of this sunshine while it
lasted. Already, so soon as the union of 25th of April had been
concluded between Holland and Zealand, he had forced the estates to open
negotiations with France. The provinces, although desirous to confer
sovereignty upon him, were indisposed to renounce their old allegiance
to their King in order to place it at the disposal of a foreigner.
Nevertheless, a resolution, at the reiterated demands of Orange, was
passed by the estates, to proceed to the change of master, and, for that,
purpose, to treat with the King of France, his brother, or any other
foreign potentate, who would receive these provinces of Holland and
Zealand under his government and protection. Negotiations were
accordingly opened with the Duke-of-Anjou, the dilettante leader of the
Huguenots at that remarkable juncture. It was a pity that no better
champion could be looked for among the anointed of the earth than the
false, fickle, foolish Alencon, whose career, everywhere contemptible,
was nowhere so flagitious as in the Netherlands. By the fourteenth
article of the Peace of Paris, the Prince was reinstated and secured in
his principality of Orange; and his other possessions in France. The
best feeling; for the time being, was manifested between the French court
and the Reformation.
Thus much for England and France. As for Germany, the prospects of the
Netherlands were not flattering. The Reforming spirit had grown languid,
from various causes. The self-seeking motives of many Protestant princes
had disgusted the nobles. Was that the object of the bloody wars of
religion, that a few potentates should be enabled to enrich themselves by
confiscating the broad lands and accumulated treasures of the Church?
Had the creed of Luther been embraced only for such unworthy ends?
These suspicions chilled the ardor of thousands, particularly among
the greater ones of the land. Moreover, the discord among the Reformers
themselves waxed daily, and became more and more mischievous. Neither
the people nor their leaders could learn that, not a new doctrine, but a
wise toleration for all Christian doctrines was wanted. Of new doctrines
there was no lack. Lutherans, Calvinists, Flaccianists, Majorists,
Adiaphorists, Brantianists, Ubiquitists, swarmed and contended pell-mell.
In this there would have been small harm, if the Reformers had known what
reformation meant. But they could not invent or imagine toleration.
All claimed the privilege of persecuting. There were sagacious and
honest men among the great ones of the country, but they were but few.
Wise William of Hesse strove hard to effect a concordia among the jarring
sects; Count John of Nassau, though a passionate Calvinist, did no less;
while the Elector of Saxony, on the other hand, raging and roaring like a
bull of Bashan, was for sacrificing the interest of millions on the altar
of his personal spite. Cursed was his tribe if he forgave the Prince.
He had done what he could at the Diet of Ratisbon to exclude all
Calvinists from a participation in the religious peace of Germany,
and he redoubled his efforts to prevent the extension of any benefits
to the Calvinists of the Netherlands. These determinations had remained
constant and intense.
On the whole, the political appearance of Germany was as menacing as
that of France seemed for a time favorable to the schemes of Orange.
The quarrels of the princes, and the daily widening schism between
Lutherans and Calvinists, seemed to bode little good to the cause of
religious freedom. The potentates were perplexed and at variance, the
nobles lukewarm and discontented. Among the people, although subdivided
into hostile factions, there was more life. Here, at least, were
heartiness of love and hate, enthusiastic conviction, earnestness and
agitation. "The true religion," wrote Count John, "is spreading daily
among the common men. Among the powerful, who think themselves highly
learned, and who sit in roses, it grows, alas, little. Here and there a
Nicodemus or two may be found, but things will hardly go better here than
in France or the Netherlands."
Thus, then, stood affairs in the neighbouring countries. The prospect
was black in Germany, more encouraging in France, dubious, or worse, in
England. More work, more anxiety, more desperate struggles than ever,
devolved upon the Prince. Secretary Brunynck wrote that his illustrious
chief was tolerably well in health, but so loaded with affairs, sorrows,
and travails, that, from morning till night, he had scarcely leisure to
breathe. Besides his multitudinous correspondence with the public
bodies, whose labors he habitually directed; with the various estates
of the provinces, which he was gradually moulding into an organised and
general resistance to the Spanish power; with public envoys and with
secret agents to foreign cabinets, all of whom received their
instructions from him alone; with individuals of eminence and influence,
whom he was eloquently urging to abandon their hostile position to their
fatherland; and to assist him in the great work which he was doing;
besides these numerous avocations, he was actively and anxiously
engaged during the spring of 1576, with the attempt to relieve
the city of Zierickzee.
That important place, the capital of Schouwen, and the key to half
Zealand, had remained closely invested since the memorable expedition to
Duiveland. The Prince had passed much of his time in the neighbourhood,
during the month of May, in order to attend personally to the
contemplated relief, and to correspond daily with the beleaguered
garrison. At last, on the 25th of May, a vigorous effort was made to
throw in succor by sea. The brave Admiral Boisot, hero of the memorable
relief of Leyden, had charge of the expedition. Mondragon had surrounded
the shallow harbor with hulks and chains, and with a loose submerged dyke
of piles and rubbish. Against this obstacle Boisot drove his ship, the
'Red Lion,' with his customary audacity, but did not succeed in cutting
it through. His vessel, the largest of the feet, became entangled: he
was, at the same time, attacked from a distance by the besiegers. The
tide ebbed and left his ship aground, while the other vessels had been
beaten back by the enemy. Night approached; and there was no possibility
of accomplishing the enterprise. His ship was hopelessly stranded. With
the morning's sun his captivity was certain. Rather than fall into the
hands of his enemy, he sprang into the sea; followed by three hundred of
his companions, some of whom were fortunate enough to effect their
escape. The gallant Admiral swam a long time, sustained by a broken
spar. Night and darkness came on before assistance could be rendered,
and he perished. Thus died Louis Boisot, one of the most enterprising of
the early champions of Netherland freedom--one of the bravest precursors
of that race of heroes, the commanders of the Holland navy. The Prince
deplored his loss deeply, as that of a "valiant gentleman, and one well
affectioned to the common cause." His brother, Charles Boisot, as will
be remembered, had perished by treachery at the first landing of the
Spanish troops; after their perilous passage from Duiveland.--Thus both
the brethren had laid down their lives for their country, in this its
outer barrier, and in the hour of its utmost need. The fall of the
beleaguered town could no longer be deferred. The Spaniards were, at
last, to receive the prize of that romantic valor which had led them
across the bottom of the sea to attack the city. Nearly nine months had,
however, elapsed since that achievement; and the Grand Commander, by
whose orders it had been undertaken, had been four months in his grave.
He was permitted to see neither the long-delayed success which crowded
the enterprise, nor the procession of disasters and crimes which were to
mark it as a most fatal success.
On the 21st of June, 1576, Zierickzee, instructed by the Prince of Orange
to accept honorable terms, if offered, agreed to surrender. Mondragon,
whose soldiers were in a state of suffering, and ready to break out in
mutiny, was but too happy to grant an honorable capitulation. The
garrison were allowed to go out with their arms and personal baggage.
The citizens were permitted to retain or resume their privileges and
charters, on payment of two hundred thousand guldens. Of, sacking and
burning there was, on this occasion, fortunately, no question; but the
first half of the commutation money was to be paid in cash. There was
but little money in the impoverished little town, but mint-masters were
appointed by the: magistrates to take their seats at once an in the Hotel
de Ville. The citizens brought their spoons and silver dishes; one after
another, which were melted and coined into dollars and half-dollars,
until the payment was satisfactorily adjusted. Thus fell Zierickzee,
to the deep regret of the Prince. "Had we received the least succor in
the world from any side," he wrote; "the poor city should never have
fallen. I could get nothing from France or England, with all my efforts.
Nevertheless, we do not lose courage, but hope that, although abandoned
by all the world, the Lord God will extend His right hand over us."
The enemies were not destined to go farther. From their own hand now
came the blow which was to expel them from the soil which they had so
long polluted. No sooner was Zierickzee captured than a mutiny broke
forth among several companies of Spaniards and Walloons, belonging, to
the army in Schouwen. A large number of the most influential officers
had gone to Brussels, to make arrangements, if possible; for the payment
of the troops. In their absence there was more scope for the arguments
of the leading mutineers; arguments assuredly, not entirely destitute of
justice or logical precision. If ever laborers were worthy of their
hire, certainly it was the Spanish soldiery. Had they not done the work
of demons for nine years long? Could Philip or Alva have found in the
wide world men to execute their decrees with more unhesitating docility,
with more sympathizing eagerness? What obstacle had ever given them
pause in their career of duty? What element had they not braved? Had
not they fought within the bowels of the earth, beneath the depths of the
sea, within blazing cities, and upon fields of ice? Where was the work
which had been too dark and bloody for their performance? Had they not
slaughtered unarmed human beings by townfuls, at the word of command?
Had they not eaten the flesh, and drank the hearts' blood of their
enemies? Had they not stained the house of God with wholesale massacre?
What altar and what hearthstone had they not profaned? What fatigue,
what danger, what crime, had ever checked them for a moment? And for all
this obedience, labor, and bloodshed, were they not even to be paid such
wages as the commonest clown, who only tore the earth at home, received?
Did Philip believe that a few thousand Spaniards were to execute his
sentence of death against three millions of Netherlanders, and be
cheated of their pay at last?
It was in vain that arguments and expostulations were addressed to
soldiers who were suffering from want, and maddened by injustice. They
determined to take their cause into their own hand, as they had often
done before. By the 15th of July, the mutiny was general on the isle of
Schouwen. Promises were freely offered, both of pay and pardon; appeals
were made to their old sense of honor and loyalty; but they had had
enough of promises, of honor, and of work. What they wanted now were
shoes and jerkins, bread and meat, and money. Money they would have, and
that at once. The King of Spain was their debtor. The Netherlands
belonged to the King of Spain. They would therefore levy on the
Netherlands for payment of their debt. Certainly this was a logical
deduction. They knew by experience that this process had heretofore
excited more indignation in the minds of the Netherland people than in
that of their master. Moreover, at this juncture, they cared little
for their sovereign's displeasure, and not at all for that of the
Netherlanders. By the middle of July, then, the mutineers, now entirely
beyond control, held their officers imprisoned within their quarters at
Zierickzee. They even surrounded the house of Mondtagon, who had so
often led them to victory, calling upon him with threats and taunts to
furnish them with money. The veteran, roused to fury by their
insubordination and their taunts, sprang from his house into the midst of
the throng. Baring his breast before them, he fiercely invited and dared
their utmost violence. Of his life-blood, he told them bitterly, he was
no niggard, and it was at their disposal. His wealth, had he possessed
any, would have been equally theirs. Shamed into temporary respect, but
not turned from their purpose by the choler of their chief, they left him
to himself. Soon afterwards, having swept Schouwen island bare of every
thing which could be consumed, the mutineers swarmed out of Zealand into
Brabant, devouring as they went.
It was their purpose to hover for a time in the neighbourhood of the
capital, and either to force the Council of State to pay them their long
arrears, or else to seize and sack the richest city upon which they could
lay their hands. The compact, disciplined mass, rolled hither and
thither, with uncertainty of purpose, but with the same military
precision of movement which had always characterized these remarkable
mutinies. It gathered strength daily. The citizens of Brussels
contemplated with dismay the eccentric and threatening apparition.
They knew that rapine, murder, and all the worst evils which man can
inflict on his brethren were pent within it, and would soon descend.
Yet, even with all their past experience, did they not foresee the depth
of woe which was really impending. The mutineers had discarded such of
their officers as they could not compel to obedience, and had, as usual,
chosen their Eletto. Many straggling companies joined them as they swept
to and fro. They came to Herenthals, where they were met by Count
Mansfeld, who was deputed by the Council of State to treat with them,
to appeal to them; to pardon them, to offer, them everything but money.
It may be supposed that the success of the commander-in-chief was no
better than that of Mondragon and his subalterns. They laughed him to
scorn when he reminded them how their conduct was tarnishing the glory
which they had acquired by nine years of heroism. They answered with
their former cynicism, that glory could be put neither into pocket nor
stomach. They had no use for it; they had more than enough of it. Give
them money, or give them a City, these were their last terms.
Sorrowfully and bodingly Mansfeld withdrew to consult again with the
State Council. The mutineers then made a demonstration upon Mechlin,
but that city having fortunately strengthened its garrison, was allowed
to escape. They then hovered for a time outside the walls of Brussels.
At Grimsberg, where they paused for a short period, they held a parley
with Captain Montesdocca, whom they received with fair words and specious
pretences. He returned to Brussels with the favourable tidings, and the
mutineers swarmed off to Assche. Thither Montesdoeca was again
despatched, with the expectation that he would be able to bring them to
terms, but they drove him off with jeers and threats, finding that he
brought neither money nor the mortgage of a populous city. The next day,
after a feint or two in a different direction, they made a sudden swoop
upon Alost, in Flanders. Here they had at last made their choice,
and the town was carried by storm. All the inhabitants who opposed
them were butchered, and the mutiny, at last established in a capital,
was able to treat with the State Council upon equal terms. They were
now between two and three thousand strong, disciplined, veteran troops,
posted in a strong and wealthy city. One hundred parishes belonged to
the jurisdiction of Alost, all of which were immediately laid under
contribution.
The excitement was now intense in Brussels. Anxiety and alarm had given
place to rage, and the whole population rose in arms to defend the
capital, which was felt to be in imminent danger. This spontaneous
courage of the burghers prevented the catastrophe, which was reserved for
a sister city. Meantime, the indignation and horror excited by the
mutiny were so universal that the Council of State could not withstand
the pressure. Even the women and children demanded daily in the streets
that the rebel soldiers should be declared outlaws. On the 26th of July,
accordingly, the King of Spain was made to pronounce, his Spaniards
traitors and murderers. All men were enjoined to slay one or all of
them, wherever they should be found; to refuse them bread, water, and
fire, and to assemble at sound of bell; in every city; whenever the
magistrates should order an assault upon them. A still more stringent
edict was issued on the 2nd of August; and so eagerly had these degrees
been expected, that they were published throughout Flanders and Brabant
almost as soon as issued. Hitherto the leading officers of the Spanish
army had kept aloof from the insurgents, and frowned upon their
proceedings. The Spanish member of the State Council, Jerome de Roda,
had joined without opposition in the edict. As, however, the mutiny
gathered strength on the outside, the indignation waxed daily within the
capital. The citizens of Brussels, one and all, stood to their arms.
Not a man could enter or leave without their permission. The Spaniards
who were in the town, whether soldiers or merchants, were regarded with
suspicion and abhorrence. The leading Spanish officers, Romero,
Montesdocca, Verdugo, and others, who had attempted to quell the mutiny,
had been driven off with threats and curses, their soldiers defying them
and brandishing their swords in their very faces. On the other hand,
they were looked upon with ill-will by the Netherlanders. The most
prominent Spanish personages in Brussels were kept in a state of half-
imprisonment. Romero, Roda, Verdugo, were believed to favor at heart the
cause of their rebellious troops, and the burghers of Brabant had come to
consider all the King's army in a state of rebellion. Believing the
State Council powerless to protect them from the impending storm, they
regarded that body with little respect, keeping it, as it were, in
durance, while the Spaniards were afraid to walk the streets of Brussels
for fear of being murdered. A retainer of Rods, who had ventured to
defend the character and conduct of his master before a number of excited
citizens, was slain on the spot.
In Antwerp, Champagny, brother of Granvelle, and governor of the city,
was disposed to cultivate friendly relations with the Prince of Orange.
Champagny hated the Spaniards, and the hatred seemed to establish enough
of sympathy between himself and the liberal party to authorize confidence
in him. The Prince dealt with him, but regarded him warily. Fifteen
companies of German troops, under Colonel Altaemst, were suspected of a
strong inclination to join the mutiny. They were withdrawn from Antwerp,
and in their room came Count Uberstein, with his regiment, who swore to
admit no suspicious person inside the gates, and in all things to obey
the orders of Champagny. In the citadel, however, matters were very
threatening. Sancho d'Avila, the governor, although he had not openly
joined the revolt, treated the edict of outlawry against the rebellious
soldiery with derision. He refused to publish a decree which he
proclaimed infamous, and which had been extorted, in his opinion, from an
impotent and trembling council. Even Champagny had not desired or dared
to publish the edict within the city. The reasons alleged were his fears
of irritating and alarming the foreign merchants, whose position was so
critical and friendship so important at that moment. On the other hand,
it was loudly and joyfully published in most other towns of Flanders and
Brabant. In Brussels there were two parties, one holding the decree
too audacious for his Majesty to pardon; the other clamoring for its
instantaneous fulfilment. By far the larger and more influential portion
of the population favored the measure, and wished the sentence of
outlawry and extermination to be extended at once against all Spaniards
and other foreigners in the service of the King. It seemed imprudent to
wait until all the regiments had formally accepted the mutiny, and
concentrated themselves into a single body.
At this juncture, on the last day of July, the Marquis off Havre, brother
to the Duke of Aerschot, arrived out of Spain. He was charged by the
King with conciliatory but unmeaning phrases to the estates. The
occasion was not a happy one. There never was a time when direct and
vigorous action had been more necessary. It was probably the King's
desire then, as much as it ever had been his desire at all, to make up
the quarrel with his provinces. He had been wearied with the policy
which Alva had enforced, and for which he endeavoured at that period to
make the Duke appear responsible. The barren clemency which the Grand
Commander had been instructed to affect, had deceived but few persons,
and had produced but small results. The King was, perhaps, really
inclined at this juncture to exercise clemency--that is to say he was
willing to pardon his people for having contended for their rights,
provided they were now willing to resign them for ever. So the
Catholic religion and his own authority, were exclusively and
inviolably secured, he was willing to receive his disobedient
provinces into favor. To accomplish this end, however, he had
still no more fortunate conception than to take the advice of Hopper.
A soothing procrastination was the anodyne selected for the bitter pangs
of the body politic--a vague expression of royal benignity the styptic to
be applied to its mortal wounds. An interval of hesitation was to bridge
over the chasm between the provinces and their distant metropolis.
"The Marquis of Havre has been sent," said the King, "that he may
expressly witness to you of our good intentions, and of our desire,
with the grace of God, to bring about a pacification." Alas, it was
well known whence those pavements of good intentions had been taken, and
whither they would lead. They were not the material for a substantial
road to reconciliation. "His Majesty," said the Marquis; on delivering
his report to the State Council, "has long been pondering over all things
necessary to the peace of the land. His Majesty, like a very gracious
and bountiful Prince, has ever been disposed, in times past, to treat
these, his subjects, by the best and sweetest means." There being,
however, room for an opinion that so bountiful a prince might have
discovered sweeter means, by all this pondering, than to burn and gibbet
his subjects by thousands, it was thought proper to insinuate that his
orders had been hitherto misunderstood. Alva and Requesens had been
unfaithful agents, who did not know their business, but it was to be set
right in future. "As the good-will and meaning of his Majesty has, by no
means been followed," continued the envoy, "his Majesty has determined
to send Councillor Hopper, keeper of the privy seal, and myself,
hitherwards, to execute the resolutions of his Majesty." Two such
personages as poor, plodding, confused; time-serving Hopper, and flighty,
talkative Havre, whom even Requesens despised, and whom Don John, while
shortly afterwards recommending him for a state councillor,
characterized, to Philip as "a very great scoundrel;" would hardly be
able, even if royally empowered, to undo the work of two preceding
administrations. Moreover, Councillor Hopper, on further thoughts, was
not despatched at all to the Netherlands.
The provinces were, however, assured by the King's letters to the Brabant
estates, to the State Council, and other, public bodies, as well as by
the report of the Marquis, that efficacious remedies were preparing in
Madrid. The people were only too wait patiently till they should arrive.
The public had heard before of these nostrums, made up by the royal
prescriptions in Spain; and were not likely to accept them as a panacea
for their present complicated disorders. Never, in truth, had
conventional commonplace been applied more unseasonably. Here was a
general military mutiny flaming in the very centre of the land. Here had
the intense hatred of race, which for years had been gnawing at the heart
of the country, at last broken out into most malignant manifestation.
Here was nearly the whole native population of every province, from grand
seigneur to plebeian, from Catholic prelate to Anabaptist artisan,
exasperated alike by the excesses of six thousand foreign brigands,
and united by a common hatred, into a band of brethren. Here was a State
Council too feeble to exercise the authority which it had arrogated,
trembling between the wrath of its sovereign, the menacing cries of the
Brussels burghers, and the wild threats of the rebellious army; and held
virtually, captive in the capital which it was supposed to govern.
Certainly, the confirmation of the Council in its authority, for an
indefinite, even if for a brief period, was a most unlucky step at this
juncture. There were two parties in the provinces, but one was far the
most powerful upon the great point of the Spanish soldiery. A vast
majority were in favor of a declaration of outlawry against the whole
army, and it was thought desirable to improve the opportunity by getting
rid of them altogether. If the people could rise en masse, now that the
royal government was in abeyance, and, as it were, in the nation's hands,
the incubus might be cast off for ever. If any of the Spanish officers
had been sincere in their efforts to arrest the mutiny, the sincerity was
not believed. If any of the foreign regiments of the King appeared to
hesitate at joining the Alost crew, the hesitation was felt to be
temporary. Meantime, the important German regiments of Fugger,
Fronsberger, and Polwiller, with their colonels and other officers, had
openly joined the rebellion, while there was no doubt of the sentiments
of Sancho d'Avila and the troops under his command. Thus there were two
great rallying-places for the sedition, and the most important fortress
of the country, the key which unlocked the richest city in the world, was
in the hands of the mutineers. The commercial capital of Europe, filled
to the brim with accumulated treasures, and with the merchandize of every
clime; lay at the feet of this desperate band of brigands. The horrible
result was but too soon to be made manifest.
Meantime, in Brussels, the few Spaniards trembled for their lives. The
few officers shut up there were in imminent danger. "As the Devil does
not cease to do his work," wrote Colonel Verdugo, "he has put it into the
heads of the Brabanters to rebel, taking for a pretext the mutiny of the
Spaniards. The Brussels men have handled their weapons so well against
those who were placed there to protect them, that they have begun to kill
the Spaniards, threatening likewise the Council of State. Such is their
insolence, that they care no more for these great lords than for so many
varlets." The writer, who had taken refuge, together with Jerome de Roda
and other Spaniards, or "Hispaniolized" persons, in Antwerp citadel,
proceeded to sketch the preparations which were going on in Brussels,
and the counter measures which were making progress in Antwerp. "The
states," he wrote, "are enrolling troops, saying 'tis to put down the
mutiny; but I assure you 'tis to attack the army indiscriminately. To
prevent such a villainous undertaking, troops of all nations are
assembling here, in order to march straight upon Brussels, there to
enforce everything which my lords of the State Council shall ordain."
Events were obviously hastening to a crisis--an explosion, before long,
was inevitable. "I wish I had my horses here," continued the Colonel,
"and must beg you to send them. I see a black cloud hanging over our
heads. I fear that the Brabantines will play the beasts so much, that
they will have all the soldiery at their throats."
Jerome de Roda had been fortunate enough to make his escape out of
Brussels, and now claimed to be sole Governor of the Netherlands, as the
only remaining representative of the State Council. His colleagues were
in durance at the capital. Their authority was derided. Although not
yet actually imprisoned, they were in reality bound hand and foot, and
compelled to take their orders either from the Brabant estates or from
the burghers of Brussels. It was not an illogical proceeding, therefore,
that Roda, under the shadow of the Antwerp citadel, should set up his own
person as all that remained of the outraged majesty of Spain. Till the
new Governor, Don Juan, should arrive, whose appointment the King had
already communicated to the government, and who might be expected in the
Netherlands before the close of the autumn, the solitary councillor
claimed to embody the whole Council. He caused a new seal to be struck--
a proceeding very unreasonably charged as forgery by the provincials--and
forthwith began to thunder forth proclamations and counter-proclamations
in the King's name and under the royal seal. It is difficult to see any
technical crime or mistake in such a course. As a Spaniard, and a
representative of his Majesty, he could hardly be expected to take
any other view of his duty. At any rate, being called upon to choose
between rebellious Netherlanders and mutinous Spaniards, he was not
long in making up his mind.
By the beginning of September the, mutiny was general. All the Spanish
army, from general to pioneer, were united. The most important German
troops had taken side with them. Sancho d'Avila held the citadel of
Antwerp, vowing vengeance, and holding open communication with the
soldiers at Alost. The Council of State remonstrated with him for his
disloyalty. He replied by referring to his long years of service, and by
reproving them for affecting an authority which their imprisonment
rendered ridiculous. The Spaniards were securely established. The
various citadels which had been built by Charles and Philip to curb the
country now effectually did their work. With the castles of Antwerp,
Valenciennes, Ghent, Utrecht, Culemburg, Viane, Alost, in the hands of
six thousand veteran Spaniards, the country seemed chained in every limb.
The foreigner's foot was on its neck. Brussels was almost the only
considerable town out of Holland and Zealand which was even temporarily
safe. The important city of Maestricht was held by a Spanish garrison,
while other capital towns and stations were in the power of the Walloon
and German mutineers. The depredations committed in the villages,
the open country, and the cities were incessant--the Spaniards treating
every Netherlander as their foe. Gentleman and peasant, Protestant and
Catholic, priest and layman, all were plundered, maltreated, outraged.
The indignation became daily more general and more intense. There were
frequent skirmishes between the soldiery and promiscuous bands of
peasants, citizens, and students; conflicts in which the Spaniards were
invariably victorious. What could such half-armed and wholly untrained
partisans effect against the bravest and most experienced troops in the
whole world? Such results only increased the general exasperation, while
they impressed upon the whole people the necessity of some great and
general effort to throw off the incubus.