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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, PG EDITION, VOLUME 6.
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC
JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY, D.C.L., LL.D.
1855
1560-1561 [CHAPTER II.]
Agitation in the Netherlands--The ancient charters resorted to as
barriers against the measures of government--"Joyous entrance" of
Brabant--Constitution of Holland--Growing unpopularity of Antony
Perrenot, Archbishop of Mechlin--Opposition to the new bishoprics,
by Orange, Egmont, and other influential nobles--Fury of the people
at the continued presence of the foreign soldiery--Orange resigns
the command of the legion--The troops recalled--Philip's personal
attention to the details of persecution--Perrenot becomes Cardinal
de Granvelle--All the power of government in his hands--His
increasing unpopularity--Animosity and violence of Egmont towards
the Cardinal--Relations between Orange and Granvelle--Ancient
friendship gradually changing to enmity--Renewal of the magistracy
at Antwerp--Quarrel between the Prince and Cardinal--Joint letter of
Orange and Egmont to the King--Answer of the King--Indignation of
Philip against Count Horn--Secret correspondence between the King
and Cardinal--Remonstrances against the new bishoprics--Philip's
private financial statements--Penury of the exchequer in Spain and
in the provinces--Plan for debasing the coin--Marriage of William
the Silent with the Princess of Lorraine circumvented--Negotiations
for his matrimonial alliance with Princess Anna of Saxony--
Correspondence between Granvelle and Philip upon the subject--
Opposition of Landgrave Philip and of Philip the Second--Character
and conduct of Elector Augustus--Mission of Count Schwartzburg--
Communications of Orange to the King and to Duchess Margaret--
Characteristic letter of Philip--Artful conduct of Granvelle and of
the Regent--Visit of Orange to Dresden--Proposed "note" of Elector
Augustus--Refusal of the Prince--Protest of the Landgrave against
the marriage--Preparations for the wedding at Leipzig--Notarial
instrument drawn up on the marriage day--Wedding ceremonies and
festivities--Entrance of Granvelle into Mechlin as Archbishop--
Compromise in Brabant between the abbeys and bishops.
The years 1560 and 1561 were mainly occupied with the agitation and
dismay produced by the causes set forth in the preceding chapter.
Against the arbitrary policy embodied in the edicts, the new bishoprics
and the foreign soldiery, the Netherlanders appealed to their ancient
constitutions. These charters were called "handvests" in the vernacular
Dutch and Flemish, because the sovereign made them fast with his hand.
As already stated, Philip had made them faster than any of the princes of
his house had ever done, so far as oath and signature could accomplish
that purpose, both as hereditary prince in 1549, and as monarch in 1555.
The reasons for the extensive and unconditional manner in which he swore
to support the provincial charters, have been already indicated.
Of these constitutions, that of Brabant, known by the title of the
'joyeuse entree, blyde inkomst', or blithe entrance, furnished the most
decisive barrier against the present wholesale tyranny. First and
foremost, the "joyous entry" provided "that the prince of the land should
not elevate the clerical state higher than of old has been customary and
by former princes settled; unless by consent of the other two estates,
the nobility and the cities."
Again; "the prince can prosecute no one of his subjects nor any foreign
resident, civilly or criminally, except in the ordinary and open courts
of justice in the province, where the accused may answer and defend
himself with the help of advocates."
Further; "the prince shall appoint no foreigners to office in Brabant."
Lastly; "should the prince, by force or otherwise, violate any of these
privileges, the inhabitants of Brabant, after regular protest entered,
are discharged of their oaths of allegiance, and as free, independent and
unbound people, may conduct themselves exactly as seems to them best."
Such were the leading features, so far as they regarded the points now at
issue, of that famous constitution which was so highly esteemed in the
Netherlands, that mothers came to the province in order to give birth to
their children, who might thus enjoy, as a birthright, the privileges of
Brabant. Yet the charters of the other provinces ought to have been as
effective against the arbitrary course of the government. "No foreigner,"
said the constitution of Holland, "is eligible as, councillor, financier,
magistrate, or member of a court. Justice can be administered only by
the ordinary tribunals and magistrates. The ancient laws and customs
shall remain inviolable. Should the prince infringe any of these
provisions, no one is bound to obey him."
These provisions, from the Brabant and Holland charters, are only cited
as illustrative of the general spirit of the provincial constitutions.
Nearly all the provinces possessed privileges equally ample, duly signed
and sealed. So far as ink and sealing wax could defend a land against
sword and fire, the Netherlands were impregnable against the edicts and
the renewed episcopal inquisition. Unfortunately, all history shows how
feeble are barriers of paper or lambskin, even when hallowed with a
monarch's oath, against the torrent of regal and ecclesiastical
absolutism. It was on the reception in the provinces of the new and
confirmatory Bull concerning the bishoprics, issued in January, 1560,
that the measure became known, and the dissatisfaction manifest.
The discontent was inevitable and universal. The ecclesiastical
establishment which was not to be enlarged or elevated but by consent
of the estates, was suddenly expanded into three archiepiscopates and
fifteen bishoprics. The administration of justice, which was only
allowed in free and local courts, distinct for each province, was to be
placed, so far as regarded the most important of human interests, in the,
hands of bishops and their creatures, many of them foreigners and most of
them monks. The lives and property of the whole population were to be at
the mercy of these utterly irresponsible conclaves. All classes were
outraged. The nobles were offended because ecclesiastics, perhaps
foreign ecclesiastics, were to be empowered to sit in the provincial
estates and to control their proceedings in place of easy, indolent,
ignorant abbots and friars, who had generally accepted the influence of
the great seignors. The priests were enraged because the religious
houses were thus taken out of their control and confiscated to a bench of
bishops, usurping the places of those superiors who had formally been
elected by and among themselves. The people were alarmed because the
monasteries, although not respected nor popular, were at least charitable
and without ambition to exercise ecclesiastical cruelty; while, on the
other hand, by the new episcopal arrangements, a force of thirty new
inquisitors was added to the apparatus for enforcing orthodoxy already
established. The odium of the measure was placed upon the head of that
churchman, already appointed Archbishop of Mechlin, and soon to be known
as Cardinal Granvelle. From this time forth, this prelate began to be
regarded with a daily increasing aversion. He was looked upon as the
incarnation of all the odious measures which had been devised; as the
source of that policy of absolutism which revealed itself more and more
rapidly after the King's departure from the country. It was for this
reason that so much stress was laid by popular clamor upon the clause
prohibiting foreigners from office. Granvelle was a Burgundian; his
father had passed most of his active life in Spain, while both he and his
more distinguished son were identified in the general mind with Spanish
politics. To this prelate, then, were ascribed the edicts, the new
bishoprics, and the continued presence of the foreign troops. The people
were right as regarded the first accusation. They were mistaken as to
the other charges.
The King had not consulted Anthony Perrenot with regard to the creation
of the new bishoprics. The measure, which had been successively
contemplated by Philip "the Good," by Charles the Bold, and by the
Emperor Charles, had now been carried out by Philip the Second, without
the knowledge of the new Archbishop of Mechlin. The King had for once
been able to deceive the astuteness of the prelate, and had concealed
from him the intended arrangement, until the arrival of Sonnius with the
Bulls. Granvelle gave the reasons for this mystery with much simplicity.
"His Majesty knew," he said, "that I should oppose it, as it was more
honorable and lucrative to be one of four than one of eighteen." In
fact, according to his own statement, he lost money by becoming
archbishop of Mechlin, and ceasing to be Bishop of Arras. For these
reasons he declined, more than once, the proffered dignity, and at last
only accepted it from fear of giving offence to the King, and after
having secured compensation for his alleged losses. In the same letter
(of 29th May, 1560) in which he thanked Philip for conferring upon him
the rich abbey of Saint Armand, which he had solicited, in addition to
the "merced" in ready money, concerning the safe investment of which
he had already sent directions, he observed that he was now willing to
accept the archbishopric of Mechlin; notwithstanding the odium attached
to the measure, notwithstanding his feeble powers, and notwithstanding
that, during the life of the Bishop of Tournay, who was then in rude
health, he could only receive three thousand ducats of the revenue,
giving up Arras and gaining nothing in Mechlin; notwithstanding all this,
and a thousand other things besides, he assured his Majesty that, "since
the royal desire was so strong that he should accept, he would consider
nothing so difficult that he would not at least attempt it." Having made
up his mind to take the see and support the new arrangements, he was
resolved that his profits should be as large as possible. We have seen
how he had already been enabled to indemnify himself. We shall find him
soon afterwards importuning the King for the Abbey of Afflighem, the
enormous revenue of which the prelate thought would make another handsome
addition to the rewards of his sacrifices. At the same time, he was most
anxious that the people, and particularly the great nobles, should not
ascribe the new establishment to him, as they persisted in doing. "They
say that the episcopates were devised to gratify my ambition," he wrote
to Philip two years later; "whereas your Majesty knows how steadily I
refused the see of Mechlin, and that I only accepted it in order not to
live in idleness, doing nothing for God and your Majesty." He therefore
instructed Philip, on several occasions, to make it known to the
government of the Regent, to the seignors, and to the country generally,
that the measure had been arranged without his knowledge; that the
Marquis Berghen had known of it first, and that the prelate had, in
truth, been kept in the dark on the subject until the arrival of Sonnius
with the Bulls. The King, always docile to his minister, accordingly
wrote to the Duchess the statements required, in almost the exact
phraseology suggested; taking pains to repeat the declarations on several
occasions, both by letter and by word of mouth, to many influential
persons.
The people, however, persisted in identifying the Bishop with the scheme.
They saw that he was the head of the new institutions; that he was to
receive the lion's share of the confiscated abbeys, and that he was
foremost in defending and carrying through the measure, in spite of all
opposition. That opposition waxed daily more bitter, till the Cardinal,
notwithstanding that he characterised the arrangement to the King as "a
holy work," and warmly assured Secretary Perez that he would contribute
his fortune, his blood, and his life, to its success, was yet obliged to
exclaim in the bitterness of his spirit, "Would to God that the erection
of these new sees had never been thought of. Amen! Amen!"
Foremost in resistance was the Prince of Orange. Although a Catholic,
he had no relish for the horrible persecution which had been determined
upon. The new bishoprics he characterized afterwards as parts "of one
grand scheme for establishing the cruel inquisition of Spain; the said
bishops to serve as inquisitors, burners of bodies; and tyrants of
conscience: two prebendaries in each see being actually constituted
inquisitors." For this reason he omitted no remonstrance on the subject
to the Duchess, to Granvelle, and by direct letters to the King. His
efforts were seconded by Egmont, Berghen, and other influential nobles.
Even Berlaymont was at first disposed to side with the opposition, but
upon the argument used by the Duchess, that the bishoprics and prebends
would furnish excellent places for his sons and other members of the
aristocracy, he began warmly to support the measure. Most of the labor,
however, and all the odium, of the business fell upon the Bishop's
shoulders. There was still a large fund of loyalty left in the popular
mind, which not even forty years of the Emperor's dominion had consumed,
and which Philip was destined to draw upon as prodigally as if the
treasure had been inexhaustible. For these reasons it still seemed most
decorous to load all the hatred upon the minister's back, and to retain
the consolatory formula, that Philip was a prince, "clement, benign, and
debonair."
The Bishop, true to his habitual conviction, that words, with the people,
are much more important than things, was disposed to have the word
"inquisitor" taken out of the text of the new decree. He was anxious
at this juncture to make things pleasant, and he saw no reason why men
should be unnecessarily startled. If the inquisition could be practised,
and the heretics burned, he was in favor of its being done comfortably.
The word "inquisitor" was unpopular, almost indecent. It was better to
suppress the term and retain the thing. "People are afraid to speak of
the new bishoprics," he wrote to Perez, "on account of the clause
providing that of nine canons one shall be inquisitor. Hence people fear
the Spanish inquisition."--He, therefore, had written to the King to
suggest instead, that the canons or graduates should be obliged to assist
the Bishop, according as he might command. Those terms would suffice,
because, although not expressly stated, it was clear that the Bishop was
an ordinary inquisitor; but it was necessary to expunge words that gave
offence.
It was difficult, however, with all the Bishop's eloquence and dexterity,
to construct an agreeable inquisition. The people did not like it, in
any shape, and there were indications, not to be mistaken, that one day
there would be a storm which it would be beyond human power to assuage.
At present the people directed their indignation only upon a part of the
machinery devised for their oppression. The Spanish troops were
considered as a portion of the apparatus by which the new bishoprics and
the edicts were to be forced into execution. Moreover, men were, weary
of the insolence and the pillage which these mercenaries had so long
exercised in the land. When the King had been first requested to
withdraw them, we have seen that he had burst into a violent passion.
He had afterward dissembled. Promising, at last, that they should all
be sent from the country within three or four months after his departure,
he had determined to use every artifice to detain them in the provinces.
He had succeeded, by various subterfuges, in keeping them there fourteen
months; but it was at last evident that their presence would no longer be
tolerated. Towards the close of 1560 they were quartered in Walcheren
and Brill. The Zelanders, however, had become so exasperated by their
presence that they resolutely refused to lay a single hand upon the
dykes, which, as usual at that season, required great repairs. Rather
than see their native soil profaned any longer by these hated foreign
mercenaries, they would see it sunk forever in the ocean. They swore to
perish-men, women, and children together-in the waves, rather than endure
longer the outrages which the soldiery daily inflicted. Such was the
temper of the Zelanders that it was not thought wise to trifle with their
irritation. The Bishop felt that it was no longer practicable to detain
the troops, and that all the pretext devised by Philip and his government
had become ineffectual. In a session of the State Council, held on the
25th October, 1560, he represented in the strongest terms to the Regent
the necessity for the final departure of the troops. Viglius, who knew
the character of his countrymen, strenuously seconded the proposal.
Orange briefly but firmly expressed the same opinion, declining any
longer to serve as commander of the legion, an office which, in
conjunction with Egmont, he had accepted provisionally, with the best
of motives, and on the pledge of Philip that the soldiers should be
withdrawn. The Duchess urged that the order should at least be deferred
until the arrival of Count Egmont, then in Spain, but the proposition was
unanimously negatived.
Letters were accordingly written, in the name of the Regent, to the King.
It was stated that the measure could no longer be delayed, that the
provinces all agreed in this point, that so long as the foreigners
remained not a stiver should be paid into the treasury; that if they had
once set sail, the necessary amount for their arrears would be furnished
to the government; but that if they should return it was probable that
they would be resisted by the inhabitants with main force, and that they
would only be allowed to enter the cities through a breach in their wall.
It was urged, moreover, that three or four thousand Spaniards would not
be sufficient to coerce all the provinces, and that there was not money
enough in the royal exchequer to pay the wages of a single company of the
troops. "It cuts me to the heart," wrote the Bishop to Philip, "to see
the Spanish infantry leave us; but go they must. Would to God that we
could devise any pretext, as your Majesty desires, under which to keep
them here! We have tried all means humanly possible for retaining them,
but I see no way to do it without putting the provinces in manifest
danger of sudden revolt."
Fortunately for the dignity of the government, or for the repose of the
country, a respectable motive was found for employing the legion
elsewhere. The important loss which Spain had recently met with in the
capture of Zerby made a reinforcement necessary in the army engaged in
the Southern service. Thus, the disaster in Barbary at last relieved the
Netherlands of the pest which had afflicted them so long. For a brief
breathing space the country was cleared of foreign mercenaries.
The growing unpopularity of the royal government, still typified,
however, in the increasing hatred entertained for the Bishop, was not
materially diminished by the departure of the Spaniards. The edicts and
the bishoprics were still there, even if the soldiers were gone. The
churchman worked faithfully to accomplish his master's business. Philip,
on his side, was industrious to bring about the consummation of his
measures. Ever occupied with details, the monarch, from his palace in
Spain, sent frequent informations against the humblest individuals in
the Netherlands. It is curious to observe the minute reticulations of
tyranny which he had begun already to spin about a whole, people, while
cold, venomous, and patient he watched his victims from the centre of his
web. He forwarded particular details to the Duchess and Cardinal
concerning a variety of men and women, sending their names, ages,
personal appearance, occupations, and residence, together with directions
for their immediate immolation. Even the inquisitors of Seville were set
to work to increase, by means of their branches or agencies in the
provinces, the royal information on this all-important subject. "There
are but few of us left in the world," he moralized in a letter to the
Bishop, "who care for religion. 'Tis necessary, therefore, for us to
take the greater heed for Christianity. We must lose our all, if need
be, in order to do our duty; in fine," added he, with his usual
tautology, "it is right that a man should do his duty."
Granvelle--as he must now be called, for his elevation to the
cardinalship will be immediately alluded to--wrote to assure the King
that every pains would be taken to ferret out and execute the individuals
complained of. He bewailed, however, the want of heartiness on the part
of the Netherland inquisitors and judges. "I find," said he, "that all
judicial officers go into the matter of executing the edicts with
reluctance, which I believe is caused by their fear of displeasing the
populace. When they do act they do it but languidly, and when these
matters are not taken in hand with the necessary liveliness, the fruit
desired is not gathered. We do not fail to exhort and to command them to
do their work." He added that Viglius and Berlaymont displayed laudable
zeal, but that he could not say as much for the Council of Brabant.
Those councillors "were forever prating," said he, "of the
constitutional rights of their province, and deserved much less
commendation."
The popularity of the churchman, not increased by these desperate
exertions to force an inhuman policy upon an unfortunate nation, received
likewise no addition from his new elevation in rank. During the latter
part of the year 1560, Margaret of Parma, who still entertained a
profound admiration of the prelate, and had not yet begun to chafe under
his smooth but imperious dominion, had been busy in preparing for him a
delightful surprise. Without either his knowledge or that of the King,
she had corresponded with the Pope, and succeeded in obtaining, as a
personal favor to herself, the Cardinal's hat for Anthony Perrenot.
In February, 1561, Cardinal Borromeo wrote to announce that the coveted
dignity had been bestowed. The Duchess hastened, with joyous alacrity,
to communicate the intelligence to the Bishop, but was extremely hurt to
find that he steadily refused to assume his new dignity, until he had
written to the King to announce the appointment, and to ask his
permission to accept the honor. The Duchess, justly wounded at his
refusal to accept from her hands the favor which she, and she only,
had obtained for him, endeavored in vain to overcome his pertinacity.
She represented that although Philip was not aware of the application or
the appointment, he was certain to regard it as an agreeable surprise.
She urged, moreover, that his temporary refusal would be misconstrued at
Rome, where it would certainly excite ridicule, and very possibly give
offence in the highest quarter. The Bishop was inexorable. He feared,
says his panegyrist, that he might one day be on worse terms than at
present with the Duchess, and that then she might reproach him with her
former benefits. He feared also that the King might, in consequence of
the step, not look with satisfaction upon him at some future period, when
he might stand in need of his favors. He wrote, accordingly, a most
characteristic letter to Philip, in which he informed him that he had
been honored with the Cardinal's hat. He observed that many persons were
already congratulating him, but that before he made any demonstration of
accepting or refusing, he waited for his Majesty's orders: upon his will
he wished ever to depend. He also had the coolness, under the
circumstances, to express his conviction that "it was his Majesty who had
secretly procured this favor from his Holiness."
The King received the information very graciously, observing in reply,
that although he had never made any suggestion of the kind, he had "often
thought upon the subject." The royal command was of course at once
transmitted, that the dignity should be accepted. By special favor,
moreover, the Pope dispensed the new Cardinal from the duty of going to
Rome in person, and despatched his chamberlain, Theophilus Friso, to
Brussels, with the red hat and tabbard.
The prelate, having thus reached the dignity to which he had long
aspired, did not grow more humble in his deportment, or less zealous in
the work through which he had already gained so much wealth and
preferment. His conduct with regard to the edicts and bishoprics had
already brought him into relations which were far from amicable with his
colleagues in the council. More and more he began to take the control of
affairs into his own hand. The consulta, or secret committee of the
state council, constituted the real government of the country. Here the
most important affairs were decided upon without the concurrence of the
other seignors, Orange, Egmont, and Glayon, who, at the same time, were
held responsible for the action of government. The Cardinal was smooth
in manner, plausible of speech, generally even-tempered, but he was
overbearing and blandly insolent. Accustomed to control royal
personages, under the garb of extreme obsequiousness, he began, in his
intercourse with those of less exalted rank, to omit a portion of the
subserviency while claiming a still more undisguised authority. To
nobles like Egmont and Orange, who looked down upon the son of Nicolas
Perrenot and Nicola Bonvalot as a person immeasurably beneath themselves
in the social hierarchy, this conduct was sufficiently irritating. The
Cardinal, placed as far above Philip, and even Margaret, in mental power
as he was beneath them in worldly station, found it comparatively easy to
deal with them amicably. With such a man as Egmont, it was impossible
for the churchman to maintain friendly relations. The Count, who
notwithstanding his romantic appearance, his brilliant exploits, and his
interesting destiny, was but a commonplace character, soon conceived a
mortal aversion to Granvelle. A rude soldier, entertaining no respect
for science or letters, ignorant and overbearing, he was not the man to
submit to the airs of superiority which pierced daily more and more
decidedly through the conventional exterior of the Cardinal. Granvelle,
on the other hand, entertained a gentle contempt for Egmont, which
manifested itself in all his private letters to the King, and was
sufficiently obvious in his deportment. There had also been distinct
causes of animosity between them. The governorship of Hesdin having
become vacant, Egmont, backed by Orange and other nobles, had demanded
it for the Count de Roeulx, a gentleman of the Croy family, who, as well
as his father, had rendered many important services to the crown. The
appointment was, however, bestowed, through Granvelle's influence, upon
the Seigneur d'Helfault, a gentleman of mediocre station and character,
who was thought to possess no claims whatever to the office. Egmont,
moreover, desired the abbey of Trulle for a poor relation of his own; but
the Cardinal, to whom nothing in this way ever came amiss, had already
obtained the King's permission to, appropriate the abbey to himself
Egmont was now furious against the prelate, and omitted no opportunity
of expressing his aversion, both in his presence and behind his back.
On one occasion, at least, his wrath exploded in something more than
words. Exasperated by Granvelle's polished insolence in reply to his
own violent language, he drew his dagger upon him in the presence of the
Regent herself, "and," says a contemporary, "would certainly have sent
the Cardinal into the next world had he not been forcibly restrained by
the Prince of Orange and other persons present, who warmly represented
to him that such griefs were to be settled by deliberate advice, not by
choler." At the same time, while scenes like these were occurring in the
very bosom of the state council, Granvelle, in his confidential letters
to secretary Perez, asserted warmly that all reports of a want of harmony
between himself and the other seignors and councillors were false, and
that the best relations existed among them all. It was not his
intention, before it should be necessary, to let the King doubt his
ability to govern the counsel according to the secret commission with
which he had been invested.
His relations with Orange were longer in changing from friendship to open
hostility. In the Prince the Cardinal met his match. He found himself
confronted by an intellect as subtle, an experience as fertile in
expedients, a temper as even, and a disposition sometimes as haughty as
his own. He never affected to undervalue the mind of Orange. "'Tis a
man of profound genius, vast ambition--dangerous, acute, politic," he
wrote to the King at a very early period. The original relations between
himself and the Prince bad been very amicable. It hardly needed the
prelate's great penetration to be aware that the friendship of so exalted
a personage as the youthful heir to the principality of Orange, and to
the vast possessions of the Chalons-Nassau house in Burgundy and the
Netherlands, would be advantageous to the ambitious son of the Burgundian
Councillor Granvelle. The young man was the favorite of the Emperor from
boyhood; his high rank, and his remarkable talents marked him
indisputably for one of the foremost men of the coming reign. Therefore
it was politic in Perrenot to seize every opportunity of making himself
useful to the Prince. He busied himself with securing, so far as it
might be necessary to secure, the succession of William to his cousin's
principality. It seems somewhat ludicrous for a merit to be made not
only for Granvelle but for the Emperor, that the Prince should have been
allowed to take an inheritance which the will of Rene de Nassau most
unequivocally conferred, and which no living creature disputed. Yet,
because some of the crown lawyers had propounded the dogma that "the son
Of a heretic ought not to succeed," it was gravely stated as an immense
act of clemency upon the part of Charles the Fifth that he had not
confiscated the whole of the young Prince's heritage. In return
Granvelle's brother Jerome had obtained the governorship of the youth,
upon whose majority he had received an honorable military appointment
from his attached pupil. The prelate had afterwards recommended the
marriage with the Count de Buren's heiress, and had used his influence
with the Emperor to overcome certain objections entertained by Charles,
that the Prince, by this great accession of wealth, might be growing too
powerful. On the other hand, there were always many poor relations and
dependents of Granvelle, eager to be benefitted by Orange's patronage,
who lived in the Prince's household, or received handsome appointments
from his generosity. Thus, there had been great intimacy, founded upon
various benefits mutually conferred; for it could hardly be asserted that
the debt of friendship was wholly upon one side.
When Orange arrived in Brussels from a journey, he would go to the
bishop's before alighting at his own house. When the churchman visited
the Prince, he entered his bed-chamber without ceremony before he had
risen; for it was William's custom, through life, to receive intimate
acquaintances, and even to attend to important negotiations of state,
while still in bed.
The show of this intimacy had lasted longer than its substance.
Granvelle was the most politic of men, and the Prince had not served
his apprenticeship at the court of Charles the Fifth to lay himself bare
prematurely to the criticism or the animosity of the Cardinal with the
recklessness of Horn and Egmont. An explosion came at last, however, and
very soon after an exceedingly amicable correspondence between the two
upon the subject of an edict of religious amnesty which Orange was
preparing for his principality, and which Granvelle had recommended him
not to make too lenient. A few weeks after this, the Antwerp magistracy
was to be renewed. The Prince, as hereditary burgrave of that city,
was entitled to a large share of the appointing power in these political
arrangements, which at the moment were of great importance. The citizens
of Antwerp were in a state of excitement on the subject of the new
bishops. They openly, and in the event, successfully resisted the
installation of the new prelate for whom their city had been constituted
a diocese. The Prince was known to be opposed to the measure, and to the
whole system of ecclesiastical persecution. When the nominations for the
new magistracy came before the Regent, she disposed of the whole matter
in the secret consulta, without the knowledge, and in a manner opposed to
the views of Orange. He was then furnished with a list of the new
magistrates, and was informed that he had been selected as commissioner
along with Count Aremberg, to see that the appointments were carried into
effect. The indignation of the Prince was extreme. He had already taken
offence at some insolent expressions upon this topic, which the Cardinal
had permitted himself. He now sent back the commission to the Duchess,
adding, it was said, that he was not her lackey, and that she might send
some one else with her errands. The words were repeated in the state
council. There was a violent altercation--Orange vehemently resenting
his appointment merely to carry out decisions in which he claimed an
original voice. His ancestors, he said, had often changed the whole of
the Antwerp magistracy by their own authority. It was a little too much
that this matter, as well as every other state affair, should be
controlled by the secret committee of which the Cardinal was the chief.
Granvelle, on his side, was also in a rage. He flung from the council-
chamber, summoned the Chancellor of Brabant, and demanded, amid bitter
execrations against Orange, what common and obscure gentleman there might
be, whom he could appoint to execute the commission thus refused by the
Prince and by Aremberg. He vowed that in all important matters he would,
on future occasions, make use of nobles less inflated by pride, and more
tractable than such grand seignors. The chancellor tried in vain to
appease the churchman's wrath, representing that the city of Antwerp
would be highly offended at the turn things were taking, and offering his
services to induce the withdrawal, on the part of the Prince, of the
language which had given so much offence. The Cardinal was inexorable
and peremptory. "I will have nothing to do with the Prince, Master
Chancellor," said he, "and these are matters which concern you not."
Thus the conversation ended, and thus began the open state of hostilities
between the great nobles and the Cardinal, which had been brooding so
long.
On the 23rd July, 1561, a few weeks after the scenes lately described,
the Count of Egmont and the Prince of Orange addressed a joint letter to
the King. They reminded him in this despatch that, they had originally
been reluctant to take office in the state council, on account of their
previous experience of the manner in which business had been conducted
during the administration of the Duke of Savoy. They had feared that
important matters of state might be transacted without their concurrence.
The King had, however, assured them, when in Zeland, that all affairs
would be uniformly treated in full council. If the contrary should ever
prove the case, he had desired them to give him information to that
effect, that he might instantly apply the remedy. They accordingly now
gave him that information. They were consulted upon small matters:
momentous affairs were decided upon in their absence. Still they would
not even now have complained had not Cardinal Granvelle declared that all
the members of the state council were to be held responsible for its
measures, whether they were present at its decisions or not. Not liking
such responsibility, they requested the King either to accept their
resignation or to give orders that all affairs should be communicated
to the whole board and deliberated upon by all the councillors.
In a private letter, written some weeks later (August 15), Egmont begged
secretary Erasso to assure the King that their joint letter had not been
dictated by passion, but by zeal for his service. It was impossible,
he said, to imagine the insolence of the Cardinal, nor to form an idea
of the absolute authority which he arrogated.
In truth, Granvelle, with all his keenness, could not see that Orange,
Egmont, Berghen, Montigny and the rest, were no longer pages and young
captains of cavalry, while he was the politician and the statesman.
By six or seven years the senior of Egmont, and by sixteen years of
Orange, he did not divest himself of the superciliousness of superior
wisdom, not unjust nor so irritating when they had all been boys.
In his deportment towards them, and in the whole tone of his private
correspondence with Philip, there was revealed, almost in spite of
himself, an affectation of authority, against which Egmont rebelled and
which the Prince was not the man to acknowledge. Philip answered the
letter of the two nobles in his usual procrastinating manner. The Count
of Horn, who was about leaving Spain (whither he had accompanied the
King) for the Netherlands, would be entrusted with the resolution which
he should think proper to take upon the subject suggested. In the mean
time, he assured them that he did not doubt their zeal in his service.
As to Count Horn, Granvelle had already prejudiced the King against him.
Horn and the Cardinal had never been friends. A brother of the prelate
had been an aspirant for the hand of the Admiral's sister, and had been
somewhat contemptuously rejected. Horn, a bold, vehement, and not very
good-tempered personage, had long kept no terms with Granvelle, and did
not pretend a friendship which he had never felt. Granvelle had just
written to instruct the King that Horn was opposed bitterly to that
measure which was nearest the King's heart--the new bishoprics. He had
been using strong language, according to the Cardinal, in opposition to
the scheme, while still in Spain. He therefore advised that his Majesty,
concealing, of course, the source of the information, and speaking as it
were out of the royal mind itself, should expostulate with the Admiral
upon the subject. Thus prompted, Philip was in no gracious humor when
he received Count Horn, then about to leave Madrid for the Netherlands,
and to take with him the King's promised answer to the communication of
Orange and Egmont. His Majesty had rarely been known to exhibit so much
anger towards any person as he manifested upon that occasion. After a
few words from the Admiral, in which he expressed his sympathy with the
other Netherland nobles, and his aversion to Granvelle, in general terms,
and in reply to Philip's interrogatories, the King fiercely interrupted
him: "What! miserable man!" he vociferated, "you all complain of this
Cardinal, and always in vague language. Not one of you, in spite of all
my questions, can give me a single reason for your dissatisfaction."
With this the royal wrath boiled over in such unequivocal terms that
the Admiral changed color, and was so confused with indignation and
astonishment, that he was scarcely able to find his way out of the room.
This was the commencement of Granvelle's long mortal combat with Egmont,
Horn, and Orange. This was the first answer which the seignors were to
receive to their remonstrances against the churchman's arrogance. Philip
was enraged that any opposition should be made to his coercive measures,
particularly to the new bishoprics, the "holy work" which the Cardinal
was ready, to "consecrate his fortune and his blood" to advance.
Granvelle fed his master's anger by constant communications as to the
efforts made by distinguished individuals to delay the execution of the
scheme. Assonville had informed him, he wrote, that much complaint had
been made on the subject by several gentlemen, at a supper of Count
Egmont's. It was said that the King ought to have consulted them all,
and the state councillors especially. The present nominees to the new
episcopates were good enough, but it would be found, they said, that very
improper personages would be afterwards appointed. The estates ought not
to permit the execution of the scheme. In short, continued Granvelle,
"there is the same kind of talk which brought about the recall of the
Spanish troops." A few months later, he wrote to inform Philip that a
petition against the new bishoprics was about to be drawn up by "the two
lords.". They had two motives; according to the Cardinal, for this step
--first, to let the King know that he could do nothing without their
permission; secondly, because in the states' assembly they were then the
cocks of the walk. They did not choose, therefore, that in the clerical
branch of the estates any body should be above the abbots, whom they
could frighten into doing whatever they chose. At the end, of the year,
Granvelle again wrote to instruct his sovereign how to reply to the
letter which was about to be addressed to him by the Prince of Orange and
the Marquis Berghen on the subject of the bishoprics. They would tell
him, he said, that the incorporation of the Brabant abbeys into the new
bishoprics was contrary to the constitution of the "joyful entrance."
Philip was, however, to make answer that he had consulted the
universities, and those learned in the laws, and had satisfied himself
that it was entirely constitutional. He was therefore advised to send
his command that the Prince and Marquis should use all their influence to
promote the success of the measure. Thus fortified, the King was enabled
not only to deal with the petition of the nobles, but also with the
deputies from the estates of Brabant, who arrived about this time at
Madrid. To these envoys, who asked for the appointment of royal
commissioners, with whom they might treat on the subject of the
bishoprics, the abbeys, and the "joyful entrance," the King answered
proudly, "that in matters which concerned the service of God, he was his
own commissioner." He afterwards, accordingly, recited to them, with
great accuracy, the lesson which he had privately received from the
ubiquitous Cardinal. Philip was determined that no remonstrance from
great nobles or from private citizens should interfere with the thorough
execution of the grand scheme on which he was resolved, and of which the
new bishoprics formed an important part. Opposition irritated him more
and more, till his hatred of the opponents became deadly; but it, at the
same time, confirmed him in his purpose. "'Tis no time to temporize," he
wrote to Granvelle; "we must inflict chastisement with full rigor and
severity. These rascals can only be made to do right through fear, and
not always even by that means."
At the same time, the royal finances did not admit of any very active
measures, at the moment, to enforce obedience to a policy which was
already so bitterly opposed. A rough estimate, made in the King's own
handwriting, of the resources and obligations of his exchequer, a kind of
balance sheet for the, years 1560 and 1561, drawn up much in the same
manner as that in which a simple individual would make a note of his
income and expenditure, gave but a dismal picture of his pecuniary,
condition. It served to show how intelligent a financier is despotism,
and how little available are the resources of a mighty empire when
regarded merely as private property, particularly when the owner chances
to have the vanity of attending to all details himself: "Twenty millions
of ducats," began the memorandum, "will be required to disengage my
revenues. But of this," added the King, with whimsical pathos for an
account-book, "we will not speak at present, as the matter is so entirely
impossible." He then proceeded to enter the various items of expense
which were to be met during the two years; such as so many millions due
to the Fuggers (the Rothschilds of the sixteenth century), so many to
merchants in Flanders, Seville, and other places, so much for Prince
Doria's galleys, so much for three years' pay due to his guards, so much
for his household expenditure, so much for the, tuition of Don Carlos,
and Don Juan d'Austria, so much for salaries of ambassadors and
councillors--mixing personal and state expenses, petty items and great
loans, in one singular jumble, but arriving at a total demand upon his
purse of ten million nine hundred and ninety thousand ducats.
To meet this expenditure he painfully enumerated the funds upon which he
could reckon for the two years. His ordinary rents and taxes being all
deeply pledged, he could only calculate from that source upon two hundred
thousand ducats. The Indian revenue, so called, was nearly spent; still
it might yield him four hundred and twenty thousand ducats. The
quicksilver mines would produce something, but so little as hardly to
require mentioning. As to the other mines, they were equally unworthy of
notice, being so very uncertain, and not doing as well as they were wont.
The licences accorded by the crown to carry slaves to America were put
down at fifty thousand ducats for the two years. The product of the
"crozada" and "cuarta," or money paid to him in small sums by
individuals, with the permission of his Holiness, for the liberty of
abstaining from the Church fasts, was estimated at five hundred thousand
ducats. These and a few more meagre items only sufficed to stretch his
income to a total of one million three hundred and thirty thousand far
the two years, against an expenditure calculated at near eleven millions.
"Thus, there are nine millions, less three thousand ducats, deficient,"
he concluded ruefully (and making a mistake in his figures in his own
favor of six hundred and sixty-three thousand besides), "which I may look
for in the sky, or try to raise by inventions already exhausted."
Thus, the man who owned all America and half of Europe could only raise a
million ducats a year from his estates. The possessor of all Peru and
Mexico could reckon on "nothing worth mentioning" from his mines, and
derived a precarious income mainly from permissions granted his subjects
to carry on the slave-trade and to eat meat on Fridays. This was
certainly a gloomy condition of affairs for a monarch on the threshold of
a war which was to outlast his own life and that of his children; a war
in which the mere army expenses were to be half a million florins
monthly, in which about seventy per cent. of the annual disbursements was
to be regularly embezzled or appropriated by the hands through which it
passed, and in which for every four men on paper, enrolled and paid for,
only one, according to the average, was brought into the field.