advancement of that religion which he publicly professed, and with God's
blessing, hoped to profess to the end of his life, but nevertheless, he
reminded the states that he had sworn, upon taking office as Lieutenant-
General, to keep "all the subjects of the land equally under his
protection," and that he had kept his oath. He rebuked the parsimony
which placed the accepted chief of the provinces in a sordid and
contemptible position. "The Archduke has been compelled," said he, in
August, to the states-general, "to break up housekeeping, for want of
means. How shameful and disreputable for the country, if he should be
compelled, for very poverty, to leave the land!" He offered to lay down
all the power with which he had himself been clothed, but insisted, if he
were to continue in office, upon being provided with, larger means of
being useful. "'Twas impossible," he said, "for him to serve longer on
the same footing as heretofore; finding himself without power or
authority, without means, without troops, without money, without
obedience." He reminded the states-general that the enemy--under pretext
of peace negotiations--were ever circulating calumnious statements to the
effect that he was personally the only obstacle to peace. The real
object of these hopeless conferences was to sow dissension through the
land, to set burgher against burgher, house against house. As in Italy,
Guelphs and Ghibellines--as in Florence, the Neri and Bianchi--as in
Holland, the Hooks and Cabbeljaws had, by their unfortunate quarrels,
armed fellow countrymen and families against each other--so also, nothing
was so powerful as religious difference to set friend against friend,
father against son, husband against wife.
He warned the States against the peace propositions of the enemy. Spain
had no intention to concede, but was resolved to extirpate. For himself;
he had certainly everything to lose by continued war. His magnificent
estates were withheld, and--added he with simplicity--there is no man who
does not desire to enjoy his own. The liberation of his son, too, from
his foreign captivity, was, after the glory of God and the welfare of the
fatherland, the dearest object of his heart. Moreover, he was himself
approaching the decline of life. Twelve years he had spent in perpetual
anxiety and labor for the cause. As he approached old age, he had
sufficient reason to desire repose. Nevertheless, considering the great
multitude of people who were leaning upon him, he should account himself
disgraced if, for the sake of his own private advantage, he were to
recommend a peace which was not perfectly secure. As regarded his own
personal interests, he could easily place himself beyond danger--yet it
would be otherwise with the people. The existence of the religion which,
through the mercy of God he professed, would be sacrificed, and countless
multitudes of innocent men would, by his act, be thrown bodily into the
hands of the blood-thirsty inquisitors who, in times past, had murdered
so many persons, and so utterly desolated the land. In regard to the
ceaseless insinuations against his character which men uttered "over
their tables and in the streets," he observed philosophically, that
"mankind were naturally inclined to calumny, particularly against those
who exercised government over them. His life was the best answer to
those slanders. Being overwhelmed with debt, he should doubtless do
better in a personal point of view to accept the excellent and profitable
offers which were daily made to him by the enemy." He might be justified
in such a course, when it was remembered how many had deserted him and
forsworn their religion. Nevertheless, he had ever refused, and should
ever refuse to listen to offers by which only his own personal interests
were secured. As to the defence of the country, he had thus far done all
in his power, with the small resources placed at his command. He was
urged by the "nearer-united states" to retain the poet of Lieutenant-
General. He was ready to consent. He was, however, not willing to hold
office a moment, unless he had power to compel cities to accept
garrisons, to enforce the collection of needful supplies throughout the
provinces, and in general to do everything which he judged necessary for
the best interests of the country.
Three councils were now established--one to be in attendance upon the
Archduke and the Prince of Orange, the two others to reside respectively
in Flanders and in Utrecht. They were to be appointed by Matthias and
the Prince, upon a double nomination from the estates of the united
provinces. Their decisions were to be made according to a majority of
votes,--and there was to be no secret cabinet behind and above their
deliberations. It was long, however, before these councils were put into
working order. The fatal jealousy of the provincial authorities, the,
small ambition of local magistrates, interposed daily obstacles to the
vigorous march of the generality. Never was jealousy more mischievous,
never circumspection more misapplied. It was not a land nor a crisis in
which there was peril of centralization: Local municipal government was
in truth the only force left. There was no possibility of its being
merged in a central authority which did not exist. The country was
without a centre. There was small chance of apoplexy where there was no
head. The danger lay in the mutual repulsiveness of these atoms of
sovereignty--in the centrifugal tendencies which were fast resolving a
nebulous commonwealth into chaos. Disunion and dissension would soon
bring about a more fatal centralization--that of absorption in a distant
despotism.
At the end of November, 1579, Orange made another remarkable speech in
the states-general at Antwerp. He handled the usual topics with his
customary vigor, and with that grace and warmth of delivery which always
made his eloquence so persuasive and impressive. He spoke of the
countless calumnies against himself, the chaffering niggardliness of the
provinces, the slender result produced by his repeated warnings. He told
them bluntly the great cause of all their troubles. It was the absence
of a broad patriotism; it was the narrow power grudged rather than given
to the deputies who sat in the general assembly. They were mere envoys,
tied by instructions. They were powerless to act, except after tedious
reference to the will of their masters, the provincial boards. The
deputies of the Union came thither, he said, as advocates of their
provinces or their cities, not as councillors of a commonwealth--and
sought to further those narrow interests, even at the risk of destruction
to their sister states. The contributions, he complained, were assessed
unequally, and expended selfishly. Upon this occasion, as upon all
occasions, he again challenged inquiry into the purity of his government,
demanded chastisement, if any act of mal-administration on his part could
be found, and repeated his anxious desire either to be relieved from his
functions, or to be furnished with the means of discharging them with
efficiency.
On the 12th of December, 1579, he again made a powerful speech in the
states-general. Upon the 9th of January 1580, following, he made an
elaborate address upon the state of the country, urging the necessity of
raising instantly a considerable army of good and experienced soldiers.
He fixed the indispensable number of such a force at twelve thousand
foot, four thousand horse, and at least twelve hundred pioneers. "Weigh
well the matters," said he, in conclusion; "which I have thus urged, and
which are of the most extreme necessity. Men in their utmost need are
daily coming to me for refuge, as if I held power over all things in my
hand." At the same time he complained that by reason of the dilatoriness
of the states, he was prevented from alleviating misery when he knew the
remedy to be within reach. "I beg you, however, my masters," he
continued, "to believe that this address of mine is no simple discourse.
'Tis a faithful presentment of matters which, if not reformed, will cause
the speedy and absolute ruin of the land. Whatever betide, however, I
pray you to hold yourselves assured, that with God's help, I am
determined to live with you or to die with you."
Early in the year 1580, the Prince was doomed to a bitter disappointment,
and the provinces to a severe loss, in the treason of Count Renneberg,
governor of Friesland. This young noble was of the great Lalain family.
He was a younger brother of: Anthony, Count of Hoogstraaten--the
unwavering friend of Orange. He had been brought up in the family of his
cousin, the Count de Lalain, governor of Hainault, and had inherited the
title of Renneberg from an uncle, who was a dignitary of the church.
For more than a year there had been suspicions of his fidelity. He was
supposed to have been tampered with by the Duke of Terranova, on the
first arrival of that functionary in the Netherlands. Nevertheless, the
Prince of Orange was unwilling to listen to the whispers against him.
Being himself the mark of calumny, and having a tender remembrance of the
elder brother, he persisted in reposing confidence in a man who was in
reality unworthy of his friendship. George Lalain, therefore, remained
stadholder of Friesland and Drenthe, and in possession of the capital
city, Groningen.
The rumors concerning him proved correct. In November, 1579, he entered
into a formal treaty with Terranova, by which he was to receive--as the
price of "the virtuous resolution which he contemplated"--the sum of ten
thousand crowns in hand, a further sum of ten thousand crowns within
three months, and a yearly pension of ten thousand florins. Moreover,
his barony of Ville was to be erected into a marquisate, and he was to
receive the order of the Golden Fleece at the first vacancy. He was
likewise to be continued in the same offices under the King which he now
held from the estates. The bill of sale, by which he agreed with a
certain Quislain le Bailly to transfer himself to Spain, fixed these
terms with the technical scrupulousness of any other mercantile
transaction. Renneberg sold himself as one would sell a yoke of oxen,
and his motives were no whit nobler than the cynical contract would
indicate. "See you not," said he in a private letter to a friend, "that
this whole work is brewed by the Nassaus for the sake of their own
greatness, and that they are everywhere provided with the very best
crumbs. They are to be stadholders of the principal provinces; we are
to content ourselves with Overyssel and Drente. Therefore I have thought
it best to make my peace with the King, from whom more benefits are to be
got."
Jealousy and selfishness; then, were the motives of his "virtuous
resolution." He had another, perhaps a nobler incentive. He was in love
with the Countess Meghen, widow of Lancelot Berlaymont, and it was
privately stipulated that the influence of his Majesty's government
should be employed to bring about his marriage with the lady. The
treaty, however, which Renneberg had made with Quislain le Bailly was not
immediately carried out. Early in February, 1580, his sister and evil
genius, Cornelia Lalain, wife of Baron Monceau, made him a visit at
Groningen. She implored him not to give over his soul to perdition by
oppressing the Holy Church. She also appealed to his family pride, which
should keep him, she said, from the contamination of companionship with
"base-born weavers and furriers." She was of opinion that to contaminate
his high-born fingers with base bribes were a lower degradation. The
pension, the crowns in hand, the marquisate, the collar of the Golden
Fleece, were all held before his eyes again. He was persuaded, moreover,
that the fair hand of the wealthy widow would be the crowning prize of
his treason, but in this he was destined to disappointment. The Countess
was reserved for a more brilliant and a more bitter fate. She was to
espouse a man of higher rank, but more worthless character, also a
traitor to the cause of freedom, to which she was herself devoted, and
who was even accused of attempting her life in her old age, in order to
supply her place with a younger rival.
The artful eloquence of Cornelia de Lalain did its work, and Renneberg
entered into correspondence with Parma. It is singular with how much
indulgence his conduct and character were regarded both before and
subsequently to his treason. There was something attractive about the
man. In an age when many German and Netherland nobles were given to
drunkenness and debauchery, and were distinguished rather for coarseness
of manner and brutality of intellect than for refinement or learning,
Count Renneberg, on the contrary, was an elegant and accomplished
gentleman--the Sydney of his country in all but loyalty of character.
He was a classical scholar, a votary of music and poetry, a graceful
troubadour, and a valiant knight. He was "sweet and lovely of
conversation," generous and bountiful by nature. With so many good
gifts, it was a thousand pities that the gift of truth had been denied
him. Never did treason look more amiable, but it was treason of the
blackest die. He was treacherous, in the hour of her utmost need, to the
country which had trusted him. He was treacherous to the great man who
had leaned upon his truth, when all others had abandoned him. He was
treacherous from the most sordid of motives jealousy of his friend and
love of place and pelf; but his subsequent remorse and his early death
have cast a veil over the blackness of his crime.
While Cornelia de Lalain was in Groningen, Orange was in Holland.
Intercepted letters left no doubt of the plot, and it was agreed that the
Prince, then on his way to Amsterdam, should summon the Count to an
interview. Renneberg's trouble at the proximity of Orange could not be
suppressed. He felt that he could never look his friend in the face
again. His plans were not ripe; it was desirable to dissemble for a
season longer; but how could he meet that tranquil eye which "looked
quite through the deeds of men?" It was obvious to Renneberg that his
deed was to be done forthwith, if he would escape discomfiture. The
Prince would soon be in Groningen, and his presence would dispel the
plots which had been secretly constructed.
On the evening of March the 3rd, 1580, the Count entertained a large
number of the most distinguished families of the place at a ball and
banquet. At the supper-table, Hildebrand, chief burgomaster of the city,
bluntly interrogated his host concerning the calumnious reports which
were in circulation, expressing the hope that there was no truth in these
inventions of his enemies. Thus summoned, Renneberg, seizing the hands
of Hildebrand in both his own, exclaimed, "Oh; my father! you whom I
esteem as my father, can you suspect me of such guilt? I pray you,
trust me, and fear me not!"
With this he restored the burgomaster and all the other guests to
confidence. The feast and dance proceeded, while Renneberg was quietly
arranging his plot. During the night all the leading patriots were taken
out of their beds, and carried to prison, notice being at the same time
given to the secret adherents of Renneberg. Before dawn, a numerous mob
of boatmen and vagrants, well armed, appeared upon the public square.
They bore torches and standards, and amazed the quiet little city with
their shouts. The place was formally taken into possession, cannon were
planted in front of the Town House to command the principal streets, and
barricades erected at various important points. Just at daylight,
Renneberg himself, in complete armor, rode into the square, and it was
observed that he looked ghastly as a corpse. He was followed by thirty
troopers, armed like himself, from head to foot. "Stand by me now," he
cried to the assembled throng; "fail me not at this moment, for now I am
for the first time your stadholder."
While he was speaking, a few citizens of the highest class forced their
way through the throng and addressed the mob in tones of authority. They
were evidently magisterial persons endeavoring to quell the riot. As
they advanced, one of Renneberg's men-at-arms discharged his carabine at
the foremost gentleman, who was no other than burgomaster Hildebrand. He
fell dead at the feet of the stadholder--of the man who had clasped his
hands a few hours before, called him father, and implored him to
entertain no suspicions of his honor. The death of this distinguished
gentleman created a panic, during which Renneberg addressed his
adherents, and stimulated them to atone by their future zeal in the
King's service for their former delinquency. A few days afterwards the
city was formally reunited to the royal government; but the Count's
measures had been precipitated to such an extent, that he was unable to
carry the province with him, as he had hoped. On the contrary, although
he had secured the city, he had secured nothing else. He was immediately
beleaguered by the states' force in the province under the command of
Barthold Entes, Hohenlo, and Philip Louis Nassau, and it was necessary to
send for immediate assistance from Parma.
The Prince of Orange, being thus bitterly disappointed. by the treachery
of his friend, and foiled in his attempt to avert the immediate
consequences, continued his interrupted journey to Amsterdam. Here he
was received with unbounded enthusiasm.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
All the majesty which decoration could impart
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It is not desirable to disturb much of that learned dust
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Mankind were naturally inclined to calumny
Men were loud in reproof, who had been silent
More easily, as he had no intention of keeping the promise
Not to fall asleep in the shade of a peace negotiation
Nothing was so powerful as religious difference
On the first day four thousand men and women were slaughtered
Power grudged rather than given to the deputies
The disunited provinces
There is no man who does not desire to enjoy his own
To hear the last solemn commonplaces
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