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HISTORY OF THE UNITED NETHERLANDS
From the Death of William the Silent to the Twelve Year's Truce--1609
By John Lothrop Motley
MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Volume 44
History United Netherlands, Volume 44, 1585-1586
CHAPTER VII., Part 1.
The Earl of Leicester--His Triumphal Entrance into Holland--English
Spies about him--Importance of Holland to England--Spanish Schemes
for invading England--Letter of the Grand Commander--Perilous
Position of England--True Nature of the Contest--wealth and Strength
of the Provinces--Power of the Dutch and English People--Affection
of the Hollanders for the Queen--Secret Purposes of Leicester--
Wretched condition of English Troops--The Nassaus and Hohenlo--The
Earl's Opinion of them--Clerk and Killigrew--Interview with the
States Government General offered to the Earl--Discussions on the
Subject--The Earl accepts the Office--His Ambition and Mistakes--His
Installation at the Hague--Intimations of the Queen's Displeasure--
Deprecatory Letters of Leicester--Davison's Mission to England--
Queen's Anger and Jealousy--Her angry Letters to the Earl and the
States--Arrival of Davison--Stormy Interview with the Queen--The
second one is calmer--Queen's Wrath somewhat mitigated--Mission of
Heneago to the States--Shirley sent to England by the Earl--His
Interview with Elizabeth
At last the Earl of Leicester came. Embarking at Harwich, with a fleet
of fifty ships, and attended "by the flower and chief gallants of
England"--the Lords Sheffield, Willoughby, North, Burroughs, Sir Gervase
Clifton, Sir William Russell, Sir Robert Sidney, and others among the
number--the new lieutenant-general of the English forces in the
Netherlands arrived on the 19th December, 1585, at Flushing.
His nephew, Sir Philip Sidney, and Count Maurice of Nassau, with a body
of troops and a great procession of civil functionaries; were in
readiness to receive him, and to escort him to the lodgings prepared for
him.
Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, was then fifty-four years of age.
There are few personages in English history whose adventures, real or
fictitious, have been made more familiar to the world than his have been,
or whose individuality has been presented in more picturesque fashion, by
chronicle, tragedy, or romance. Born in the same day of the month and
hour of the day with the Queen, but two years before her birth, the
supposed synastry of their destinies might partly account, in that age of
astrological superstition, for the influence which he perpetually
exerted. They had, moreover, been fellow-prisoners together, in the
commencement of the reign of Mary, and it is possible that he may have
been the medium through which the indulgent expressions of Philip II.
were conveyed to the Princess Elizabeth.
His grandfather, John Dudley, that "caterpillar of the commonwealth," who
lost his head in the first year of Henry VIII. as a reward for the
grist which he brought to the mill of Henry VII.; his father, the mighty
Duke of Northumberland, who rose out of the wreck of an obscure and
ruined family to almost regal power, only to perish, like his
predecessor, upon the scaffold, had bequeathed him nothing save rapacity,
ambition, and the genius to succeed. But Elizabeth seemed to ascend the
throne only to bestow gifts upon her favourite. Baronies and earldoms,
stars and garters, manors and monopolies, castles and forests, church
livings and college chancellorships, advowsons and sinecures, emoluments
and dignities, the most copious and the most exalted, were conferred upon
him in breathless succession. Wine, oil, currants, velvets,
ecclesiastical benefices, university headships, licences to preach, to
teach, to ride, to sail, to pick and to steal, all brought "grist to his
mill." His grandfather, "the horse leach and shearer," never filled his
coffers more rapidly than did Lord Robert, the fortunate courtier. Of
his early wedlock with the ill-starred Amy Robsart, of his nuptial
projects with the Queen, of his subsequent marriages and mock-marriages
with Douglas Sheffield and Lettice of Essex, of his plottings,
poisonings, imaginary or otherwise, of his countless intrigues, amatory
and political--of that luxuriant, creeping, flaunting, all-pervading
existence which struck its fibres into the mould, and coiled itself
through the whole fabric, of Elizabeth's life and reign--of all this the
world has long known too much to render a repetition needful here. The
inmost nature and the secret deeds of a man placed so high by wealth and
station, can be seen but darkly through the glass of contemporary record.
There was no tribunal to sit upon his guilt. A grandee could be judged
only when no longer a favourite, and the infatuation of Elizabeth for
Leicester terminated only with his life. He stood now upon the soil of
the Netherlands in the character of a "Messiah," yet he has been charged
with crimes sufficient to send twenty humbler malefactors to the gibbet.
"I think," said a most malignant arraigner of the man, in a published
pamphlet, "that the Earl of Leicester hath more blood lying upon his head
at this day, crying for vengeance, than ever had private man before, were
he never so wicked."
Certainly the mass of misdemeanours and infamies hurled at the head of
the favourite by that "green-coated Jesuit," father Parsons, under the
title of 'Leycester's Commonwealth,' were never accepted as literal
verities; yet the value of the precept, to calumniate boldly, with the
certainty that much of the calumny would last for ever, was never better
illustrated than in the case of Robert Dudley. Besides the lesser
delinquencies of filling his purse by the sale of honours and dignities,
by violent ejectments from land, fraudulent titles, rapacious enclosures
of commons, by taking bribes for matters of justice, grace, and
supplication to the royal authority, he was accused of forging various
letters to the Queen, often to ruin his political adversaries, and of
plottings to entrap them into conspiracies, playing first the comrade and
then the informer. The list of his murders and attempts to murder was
almost endless. "His lordship hath a special fortune," saith the Jesuit,
"that when he desireth any woman's favour, whatsoever person standeth in
his way hath the luck to die quickly." He was said to have poisoned
Alice Drayton, Lady Lennox, Lord Sussex, Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, Lord
Sheffield, whose widow he married and then poisoned, Lord Essex, whose
widow he also married, and intended to poison, but who was said to have
subsequently poisoned him--besides murders or schemes for murder of
various other individuals, both French and English. "He was a rare
artist in poison," said Sir Robert Naunton, and certainly not Caesar
Borgia, nor his father or sister, was more accomplished in that difficult
profession than was Dudley, if half the charges against him could be
believed. Fortunately for his fame, many of them were proved to be
false. Sir Henry Sidney, lord deputy of Ireland, at the time of the
death of Lord Essex, having caused a diligent inquiry to be made into
that dark affair, wrote to the council that it was usual for the Earl to
fall into a bloody flux when disturbed in his mind, and that his body
when opened showed no signs of poison. It is true that Sir Henry,
although an honourable man, was Leicester's brother-in-law, and that
perhaps an autopsy was not conducted at that day in Ireland on very
scientific principles.
His participation in the strange death of his first wife was a matter of
current belief among his contemporaries. "He is infamed by the death of
his wife," said Burghley, and the tale has since become so interwoven
with classic and legendary fiction, as well as with more authentic
history, that the phantom of the murdered Amy Robsart is sure to arise at
every mention of the Earl's name. Yet a coroner's inquest--as appears
from his own secret correspondence with his relative and agent at Cumnor
--was immediately and persistently demanded by Dudley. A jury was
impannelled--every man of them a stranger to him, and some of them
enemies. Antony Forster, Appleyard, and Arthur Robsart, brother-in-law
and brother of the lady, were present, according to Dudley's special
request; "and if more of her friends could have been sent," said he, "I
would have sent them;" but with all their minuteness of inquiry, "they
could find," wrote Blount, "no presumptions of evil," although he
expressed a suspicion that "some of the jurymen were sorry that they
could not." That the unfortunate lady was killed by a fall down stairs
was all that could be made of it by a coroner's inquest, rather hostile
than otherwise, and urged to rigorous investigation by the supposed
culprit himself. Nevertheless, the calumny has endured for three
centuries, and is likely to survive as many more.
Whatever crimes Dudley may have committed in the course of his career,
there is no doubt whatever that he was the most abused man in Europe. He
had been deeply wounded by the Jesuit's artful publication, in which all
the misdeeds with which he was falsely or justly charged were drawn up in
awful array, in a form half colloquial, half judicial. "You had better
give some contentment to my Lord Leicester," wrote the French envoy from
London to his government, "on account of the bitter feelings excited in
him by these villainous books lately written against him."
The Earl himself ascribed these calumnies to the Jesuits, to the Guise
faction, and particularly to--the Queen of Scots. He was said, in
consequence, to have vowed an eternal hatred to that most unfortunate and
most intriguing Princess. "Leicester has lately told a friend," wrote
Charles Paget, "that he will persecute you to the uttermost, for that he
supposeth your Majesty to be privy to the setting forth of the book
against him." Nevertheless, calumniated or innocent he was at least
triumphant over calumny. Nothing could shake his hold upon Elizabeth's
affections. The Queen scorned but resented the malignant attacks upon
the reputation of her favourite. She declared "before God and in her
conscience, that she knew the libels against him to be most scandalous,
and such as none but an incarnate devil himself could dream to be true."
His power, founded not upon genius nor virtue, but upon woman's caprice,
shone serenely above the gulf where there had been so many shipwrecks.
"I am now passing into another world," said Sussex, upon his death-bed,
to his friends, "and I must leave you to your fortunes; but beware of the
gipsy, or he will be too hard for you. You know not the beast so well as
I do."
The "gipsy," as he had been called from his dark complexion, had been
renowned in youth for the beauty of his person, being "tall and
singularly well-featured, of a sweet aspect, but high foreheaded, which
was of no discommendation," according to Naunton. The Queen, who had the
passion of her father for tall and proper men, was easier won by
externals, from her youth even to the days of her dotage, than befitted
so very sagacious a personage. Chamberlains, squires of the body,
carvers, cup-bearers, gentlemen-ushers, porters, could obtain neither
place nor favour at court, unless distinguished for stature, strength, or
extraordinary activity. To lose a tooth had been known to cause the loss
of a place, and the excellent constitution of leg which helped Sir
Christopher Hatton into the chancellorship, was not more remarkable
perhaps than the success of similar endowments in other contemporaries.
Leicester, although stately and imposing, had passed his summer solstice.
A big bulky man, with a long red face, a bald head, a defiant somewhat
sinister eye, a high nose, and a little torrent of foam-white curly
beard, he was still magnificent in costume. Rustling in satin and
feathers, with jewels in his ears, and his velvet toque stuck as airily
as ever upon the side of his head, he amazed the honest Hollanders, who
had been used to less gorgeous chieftains.
"Every body is wondering at the great magnificence and splendour of his
clothes," said the plain chronicler of Utrecht. For, not much more than
a year before, Fulke Greville had met at Delft a man whose external
adornments were simpler; a somewhat slip-shod personage, whom he thus
pourtrayed: "His uppermost garment was a gown," said the euphuistic
Fulke, "yet such as, I confidently affirm, a mean-born student of our
Inns of Court would not have been well disposed to walk the streets in.
Unbuttoned his doublet was, and of like precious matter and form to the
other. His waistcoat, which showed itself under it, not unlike the best
sort of those woollen knit ones which our ordinary barge-watermen row us
in. His company about him, the burgesses of that beerbrewing town. No
external sign of degree could have discovered the inequality of his worth
or estate from that multitude. Nevertheless, upon conversing with him,
there was an outward passage of inward greatness."
Of a certainty there must have been an outward passage of inward
greatness about him; for the individual in unbuttoned doublet and
bargeman's waistcoat, was no other than William the Silent. A different
kind of leader had now descended among those rebels, yet it would be a
great mistake to deny the capacity or vigorous intentions of the
magnificent Earl, who certainly was like to find himself in a more
difficult and responsible situation than any he had yet occupied.
And now began a triumphal progress through the land, with a series of
mighty banquets and festivities, in which no man could play a better part
than Leicester. From Flushing he came to Middelburg, where, upon
Christmas eve (according to the new reckoning), there was an
entertainment, every dish of which has been duly chronicled. Pigs served
on their feet, pheasants in their feathers, and baked swans with their
necks thrust through gigantic pie-crust; crystal castles of confectionery
with silver streams flowing at their base, and fair virgins leaning from
the battlements, looking for their new English champion, "wine in
abundance, variety of all sorts, and wonderful welcomes "--such was the
bill of fare. The next day the Lieutenant-General returned the
compliment to the magistrates of Middelburg with a tremendous feast.
Then came an interlude of unexpected famine; for as the Earl sailed with
his suite in a fleet of two hundred vessels for Dort--a voyage of not
many hours' usual duration--there descended a mighty frozen fog upon the
waters, and they lay five whole days and nights in their ships, almost
starved with hunger and cold--offering in vain a "pound of silver for a
pound of bread." Emerging at last from this dismal predicament, he
landed at Dort, and so went to Rotterdam and Delft, everywhere making his
way through lines of musketeers and civic functionaries, amid roaring
cannon, pealing bells, burning cressets, blazing tar-barrels, fiery
winged dragons, wreaths of flowers, and Latin orations.
The farther he went the braver seemed the country, and the better beloved
his. Lordship. Nothing was left undone, in the language of ancient
chronicle, to fill the bellies and the heads of the whole company. At
the close of the year he came to the Hague, where the festivities were
unusually magnificent. A fleet of barges was sent to escort him. Peter,
James, and John, met him upon the shore, while the Saviour appeared
walking upon the waves, and ordered his disciples to cast their nets, and
to present the fish to his Excellency. Farther on, he was confronted by
Mars and Bellona, who recited Latin odes in his honour. Seven beautiful
damsels upon a stage, representing the United States, offered him golden
keys; seven others equally beautiful, embodying the seven sciences,
presented him with garlands, while an enthusiastic barber adorned his
shop with seven score of copper basins, with a wag-light in each,
together with a rose, and a Latin posy in praise of Queen Elizabeth.
Then there were tiltings in the water between champions mounted upon
whales, and other monsters of the deep-representatives of siege, famine,
pestilence, and murder--the whole interspersed with fireworks, poetry,
charades, and Matthias, nor Anjou, nor King Philip, nor the Emperor
Charles, in their triumphal progresses, had been received with more
spontaneous or more magnificent demonstrations. Never had the living
pictures been more startling, the allegories more incomprehensible, the
banquets more elaborate, the orations more tedious. Beside himself with
rapture, Leicester almost assumed the God. In Delft, a city which he
described as "another London almost for beauty and fairness," he is said
so far to have forgotten himself as to declare that his family had--in
the person of Lady Jane Grey, his father, and brother--been unjustly
deprived of the crown of England; an indiscretion which caused a shudder
in all who heard him. It was also very dangerous for the Lieutenant-
General to exceed the bounds of becoming modesty at that momentous epoch.
His power, as we shall soon have occasion to observe, was anomalous, and
he was surrounded by enemies. He was not only to grapple with a rapidly
developing opposition in the States, but he was surrounded with masked
enemies, whom he had brought with him from England. Every act and word
of his were liable to closest scrutiny, and likely to be turned against
him. For it was most characteristic of that intriguing age, that even
the astute Walsingham, who had an eye and an ear at every key-hole in
Europe, was himself under closest domestic inspection. There was one
Poley, a trusted servant of Lady Sidney, then living in the house of her
father Walsingham, during Sir Philip's absence, who was in close
communication with Lord Montjoy's brother, Blount, then high in favour of
Queen Elizabeth--"whose grandmother she might be for his age and hers"
--and with another brother Christopher Blount, at that moment in
confidential attendance upon Lord Leicester in Holland. Now Poley,
and both the Blounts, were, in reality, Papists, and in intimate
correspondence with the agents of the Queen of Scots, both at home and
abroad, although "forced to fawn upon Leicester, to see if they might
thereby live quiet." They had a secret "alphabet," or cipher, among
them, and protested warmly, that they "honoured the ground whereon Queen
Mary trod better than Leicester with all his generation; and that they
felt bound to serve her who was the only saint living on the earth."
It may be well understood then that the Earl's position was a slippery
one, and that great assumption might be unsafe. "He taketh the matter
upon him," wrote Morgan to the Queen of Scots, "as though he were an
absolute king; but he hath many personages about him of good place out of
England, the best number whereof desire nothing more than his confusion.
Some of them be gone with him to avoid the persecution for religion in
England. My poor advice and labour shall not be wanting to give
Leicester all dishonour, which will fall upon him in the end with shame
enough; though for the present he be very strong." Many of these
personages of good place, and enjoying "charge and credit" with the Earl
had very serious plans in their heads. Some of them meant "for the
service of God, and the advantage of the King of Spain, to further the
delivery of some notable towns in Holland and Zeeland to the said King
and his ministers," and we are like to hear of these individuals again.
Meantime, the Earl of Leicester was at the Hague. Why was he there?
What was his work? Why had Elizabeth done such violence to her affection
as to part with her favourite-in-chief; and so far overcome her thrift,
as to furnish forth, rather meagrely to be sure, that little army of
Englishmen? Why had the flower of England's chivalry set foot upon that
dark and bloody ground where there seemed so much disaster to encounter,
and so little glory to reap? Why had England thrown herself so
heroically into the breach, just as the last bulwarks were falling
which protected Holland from the overwhelming onslaught of Spain?
It was because Holland was the threshold of England; because the two
countries were one by danger and by destiny; because the naval expedition
from Spain against England was already secretly preparing; because the
deposed tyrant of Spain intended the Provinces, when again subjugated,
as a steppingstone to the conquest of England; because the naval and
military forces of Holland--her numerous ships, her hardy mariners, her
vast wealth, her commodious sea-ports, close to the English coast--if
made Spanish property would render Philip invincible by sea and land; and
because the downfall of Holland and of Protestantism would be death to
Elizabeth, and annihilation to England.
There was little doubt on the subject in the minds of those engaged in
this expedition. All felt most keenly the importance of the game, in
which the Queen was staking her crown, and England its national
existence.
"I pray God," said Wilford, an officer much in Walsingham's confidence,
"that I live not to see this enterprise quail, and with it the utter
subversion of religion throughout all Christendom. It may be I may be
judged to be afraid of my own shadow. God grant it be so. But if her
Majesty had not taken the helm in hand, and my Lord of Leicester sent
over, this country had been gone ere this. . . . This war doth defend
England. Who is he that will refuse to spend his life and living in it?
If her Majesty consume twenty thousand men in the cause, the experimented
men that will remain will double that strength to the realm."
This same Wilford commanded a company in Ostend, and was employed by
Leicester in examining the defences of that important place. He often
sent information to the Secretary, "troubling him with the rude stile of
a poor soldier, being driven to scribble in haste." He reiterated, in
more than one letter, the opinion, that twenty thousand men consumed in
the war would be a saving in the end, and his own determination--although
he had intended retiring from the military profession--to spend not only
his life in the cause, but also the poor living that God had given him.
"Her Highness hath now entered into it," he said; "the fire is kindled;
whosoever suffers it to go out, it will grow dangerous to that side. The
whole state of religion is in question, and the realm of England also, if
this action quail. God grant we never live to see that doleful day. Her
Majesty hath such footing now in these parts, as I judge it impossible
for the King to weary her out, if every man will put to the work his
helping hand, whereby it may be lustily followed, and the war not
suffered to cool. The freehold of England will be worth but little, if
this action quail, and therefore I wish no subject to spare his purse
towards it."
Spain moved slowly. Philip the Prudent was not sudden or rash, but his
whole life had proved, and was to prove, him inflexible in his purposes,
and patient in his attempts to carry them into effect, even when the
purposes had become chimerical, and the execution impossible. Before the
fall of Antwerp he had matured his scheme for the invasion of England, in
most of its details--a necessary part of which was of course the
reduction of Holland and Zeeland. "Surely no danger nor fear of any
attempt can grow to England," wrote Wilford, "so long as we can hold this
country good." But never was honest soldier more mistaken than he, when
he added:--"The Papists will make her Highness afraid of a great fleet
now preparing in Spain. We hear it also, but it is only a scare-crow to
cool the enterprise here."
It was no scare-crow. On the very day on which Wilford was thus writing
to Walsingham, Philip the Second was writing to Alexander Farnese. "The
English," he said, "with their troops having gained a footing in the
islands (Holland and Zeeland) give me much anxiety. The English
Catholics are imploring me with much importunity to relieve them from
the persecution they are suffering. When you sent me a plan, with the
coasts, soundings, quicksands, and ports of England, you said that the
enterprise of invading that country should be deferred till we had
reduced the isles; that, having them, we could much more conveniently
attack England; or that at least we should wait till we had got Antwerp.
As the city is now taken, I want your advice now about the invasion of
England. To cut the root of the evils constantly growing up there, both
for God's service and mine, is desirable. So many evils will thus be
remedied, which would not be by only warring with the islands. It would
be an uncertain and expensive war to go to sea for the purpose of
chastising the insolent English corsairs, however much they deserve
chastisement. I charge you to be secret, to give the matter your deepest
attention, and to let me have your opinions at once." Philip then added
a postscript, in his own hand, concerning the importance of acquiring a
sea-port in Holland, as a basis of operations against England. "Without
a port," he said, "we can do nothing whatever."
A few weeks later, the Grand Commander of Castile, by Philip's orders,
and upon subsequent information received from the Prince of Parma, drew
up an elaborate scheme for the invasion of England, and for the
government of that country afterwards; a program according to which the
King was to shape his course for a long time to come. The plot was an
excellent plot. Nothing could be more artistic, more satisfactory to the
prudent monarch; but time was to show whether there might not be some
difficulty in the way of its satisfactory development.
"The enterprise," said the Commander, "ought certainly to be undertaken
as serving the cause of the Lord. From the Pope we must endeavour to
extract a promise of the largest aid we can get for the time when the
enterprise can be undertaken. We must not declare that time however, in
order to keep the thing a secret, and because perhaps thus more will be
promised, under the impression that it will never take effect. He added
that the work could not well be attempted before August or September of
the following year; the only fear of such delay being that the French
could hardly be kept during all that time in a state of revolt." For
this was a uniform portion of the great scheme. France was to be kept,
at Philip's expense, in a state of perpetual civil war; its every city
and village to be the scene of unceasing conflict and bloodshed--subjects
in arms against king, and family against family; and the Netherlands were
to be ravaged with fire and sword; all this in order that the path might
be prepared for Spanish soldiers into the homes of England. So much of
misery to the whole human race was it in the power of one painstaking
elderly valetudinarian to inflict, by never for an instant neglecting the
business of his life.
Troops and vessels for the English invasion ought, in the Commander's
opinion, to be collected in Flanders, under colour of an enterprise
against Holland and Zeeland, while the armada to be assembled in Spain,
of galleons, galeazas, and galleys, should be ostensibly for an
expedition to the Indies.
Then, after the conquest, came arrangements for the government of
England. Should Philip administer his new kingdom by a viceroy, or
should he appoint a king out of his own family? On the whole the chances
for the Prince of Parma seemed the best of any. "We must liberate the
Queen of Scotland," said the Grand Commander, "and marry her to some one
or another, both in order to put her out of love with her son, and to
conciliate her devoted adherents. Of course the husband should be one of
your Majesty's nephews, and none could be so appropriate as the Prince of
Parma, that great captain, whom his talents, and the part he has to bear
in the business, especially indicate for that honour."
Then there was a difficulty about the possible issue of such a marriage.
The Farneses claimed Portugal; so that children sprung from the
bloodroyal of England blended with that of Parma, might choose to make
those pretensions valid. But the objection was promptly solved by the
Commander:--"The Queen of Scotland is sure to have no children," he said.
That matter being adjusted, Parma's probable attitude as King of England
was examined. It was true his ambition might cause occasional
uneasiness, but then he might make himself still more unpleasant in the
Netherlands. "If your Majesty suspects him," said the Commander, "which,
after all, is unfair, seeing the way, in which he has been conducting
himself--it is to be remembered that in Flanders are similar
circumstances and opportunities, and that he is well armed, much beloved
in the country, and that the natives are of various humours. The English
plan will furnish an honourable departure for him out of the Provinces;
and the principle of loyal obligation will have much influence over so
chivalrous a knight as he, when he is once placed on the English throne.
Moreover, as he will be new there, he will have need of your Majesty's
favour to maintain himself, and there will accordingly be good
correspondence with Holland and the Islands. Thus your Majesty can put
the Infanta and her husband into full possession of all the Netherlands;
having provided them with so excellent a neighbour in England, and one so
closely bound and allied to them. Then, as he is to have no English
children" (we have seen that the Commander had settled that point) "he
will be a very good mediator to arrange adoptions, especially if you make
good provision for his son Rainuccio in Italy. The reasons in favour of
this plan being so much stronger than those against it, it would be well
that your Majesty should write clearly to the Prince of Parma, directing
him to conduct the enterprise" (the English invasion), "and to give him
the first offer for this marriage (with Queen Mary) if he likes the
scheme. If not, he had better mention which of the Archdukes should be
substituted in his place."
There happened to be no lack of archdukes at that period for anything
comfortable that might offer--such as a throne in England, Holland, or
France--and the Austrian House was not remarkable for refusing convenient
marriages; but the immediate future only could show whether Alexander I.
of the House of Farnese was to reign in England, or whether the next king
of that country was to be called Matthias, Maximilian, or Ernest of
Hapsburg.
Meantime the Grand Commander was of opinion that the invasion-project was
to be pushed forward as rapidly and as secretly as possible; because,
before any one of Philip's nephews could place himself upon the English
throne, it was first necessary to remove Elizabeth from that position.
Before disposing of the kingdom, the preliminary step of conquering it
was necessary. Afterwards it would be desirable, without wasting more
time than was requisite, to return with a large portion of the invading
force out of England, in order to complete the conquest of Holland. For
after all, England was to be subjugated only as a portion of one general
scheme; the main features of which were the reannexation of Holland and
"the islands," and the acquisition of unlimited control upon the seas.
Thus the invasion of England was no "scarecrow," as Wilford imagined,
but a scheme already thoroughly matured. If Holland and Zeeland should
meantime fall into the hands of Philip, it was no exaggeration on that
soldier's part to observe that the "freehold of England would be worth
but little."
To oppose this formidable array against the liberties of Europe stood
Elizabeth Tudor and the Dutch Republic. For the Queen, however arbitrary
her nature, fitly embodied much of the nobler elements in the expanding
English national character. She felt instinctively that her reliance in
the impending death-grapple was upon the popular principle, the national
sentiment, both in her own country and in Holland. That principle and
that sentiment were symbolized in the Netherland revolt; and England,
although under a somewhat despotic rule, was already fully pervaded with
the instinct of self-government. The people held the purse and the
sword.
No tyranny could be permanently established so long as the sovereign was
obliged to come every year before Parliament to ask for subsidies; so
long as all the citizens and yeomen of England had weapons in their
possession, and were carefully trained to use them; so long, in short,
as the militia was the only army, and private adventurers or trading
companies created and controlled the only navy. War, colonization,
conquest, traffic, formed a joint business and a private speculation.
If there were danger that England, yielding to purely mercantile habits
of thought and action, might degenerate from the more martial standard to
which she had been accustomed, there might be virtue in that Netherland
enterprise, which was now to call forth all her energies. The Provinces
would be a seminary for English soldiers.
"There can be no doubt of our driving the enemy out of the country
through famine and excessive charges," said the plain-spoken English
soldier already quoted, who came out with Leicester, "if every one of us
will put our minds to go forward without making a miserable gain by the
wars. A man may see, by this little progress journey, what this long
peace hath wrought in us. We are weary of the war before we come where
it groweth, such a danger hath this long peace brought us into. This is,
and will be, in my opinion, a most fit school and nursery to nourish
soldiers to be able to keep and defend our country hereafter, if men will
follow it."
Wilford was vehement in denouncing the mercantile tendencies of his
countrymen, and returned frequently to that point in his communications
with Walsingham and other statesmen. "God hath stirred up this action,"
he repeated again, "to be a school to breed up soldiers to defend the
freedom of England, which through these long times of peace and quietness
is brought into a most dangerous estate, if it should be attempted. Our
delicacy is such that we are already weary, yet this journey is naught in
respect to the misery and hardship that soldiers must and do endure."
He was right in his estimate of the effect likely to be produced by the
war upon the military habits of Englishmen; for there can be no doubt
that the organization and discipline of English troops was in anything
but a satisfactory state at that period. There was certainly vast room
for improvement. Nevertheless he was wrong in his views of the leading
tendencies of his age. Holland and England, self-helping, self-moving,
were already inaugurating a new era in the history of the world. The
spirit of commercial maritime enterprise--then expanding rapidly into
large proportions--was to be matched against the religious and knightly
enthusiasm which had accomplished such wonders in an age that was passing
away. Spain still personified, and had ever personified, chivalry,
loyalty, piety; but its chivalry, loyalty, and piety, were now in a
corrupted condition. The form was hollow, and the sacred spark had fled.
In Holland and England intelligent enterprise had not yet degenerated
into mere greed for material prosperity. The love of danger, the thirst
for adventure, the thrilling sense of personal responsibility and human
dignity--not the base love for land and lucre--were the governing
sentiments which led those bold Dutch and English rovers to
circumnavigate the world in cockle-shells, and to beard the most potent
monarch on the earth, both at home and abroad, with a handful of
volunteers.
This then was the contest, and this the machinery by which it was to be
maintained. A struggle for national independence, liberty of conscience,
freedom of the seas, against sacerdotal and world-absorbing tyranny;
a mortal combat of the splendid infantry of Spain and Italy, the
professional reiters of Germany, the floating castles of a world-empire,
with the militiamen and mercantile-marine of England and Holland united.
Holland had been engaged twenty years long in the conflict. England had
thus far escaped it; but there was no doubt, and could be none, that her
time had come. She must fight the battle of Protestantism on sea and
shore, shoulder to shoulder, with the Netherlanders, or await the
conqueror's foot on her own soil.
What now was the disposition and what the means of the Provinces to do
their part in the contest? If the twain as Holland wished, had become of
one flesh, would England have been the loser? Was it quite sure that
Elizabeth--had she even accepted the less compromising title which she
refused--would not have been quite as much the protected as the
"protectress?"
It is very certain that the English, on their arrival in the Provinces,
were singularly impressed by the opulent and stately appearance of the
country and its inhabitants. Notwithstanding the tremendous war which
the Hollanders had been waging against Spain for twenty years, their
commerce had continued to thrive, and their resources to increase.
Leicester was in a state of constant rapture at the magnificence
which surrounded him, from his first entrance into the country.
Notwithstanding the admiration expressed by the Hollanders for the
individual sumptuousness of the Lieutenant-General; his followers, on
their part, were startled by the general luxury of their new allies.
"The realm is rich and full of men," said Wilford, "the sums men exceed
in apparel would bear the brunt of this war;" and again, "if the excess
used in sumptuous apparel were only abated, and that we could convert the
same to these wars, it would stop a great gap."
The favourable view taken by the English as to the resources and
inclination of the Netherland commonwealth was universal. "The general
wish and desire of these countrymen," wrote Sir Thomas Shirley, "is that
the amity begun between England and this nation may be everlasting, and
there is not any of our company of judgment but wish the same. For all
they that see the goodliness and stateliness of these towns, strengthened
both with fortification and natural situation, all able to defend
themselves with their own abilities, must needs think it too fair a prey
to be let pass, and a thing most worthy to be embraced."
Leicester, whose enthusiasm continued to increase as rapidly as the
Queen's zeal seemed to be cooling, was most anxious lest the short-
comings of his own Government should work irreparable evil. "I pray you,
my lord," he wrote to Burghley, "forget not us poor exiles; if you do,
God must and will forget you. And great pity it were that so noble
provinces and goodly havens, with such infinite ships and mariners,
should not be always as they may now easily be, at the assured devotion
of England. In my opinion he can neither love Queen nor country that
would not wish and further it should be so. And seeing her Majesty is
thus far entered into the cause, and that these people comfort themselves
in full hope of her favour, it were a sin and a shame it should not be
handled accordingly, both for honour and surety."
Sir John Conway, who accompanied the Earl through the whole of his
"progress journey," was quite as much struck as he by the flourishing
aspect and English proclivities of the Provinces. "The countries which
we have passed," he said, "are fertile in their nature; the towns,
cities, buildings, of snore state and beauty, to such as have travelled
other countries, than any they have ever seen. The people the most
industrious by all means to live that be in the world, and, no doubt,
passing rich. They outwardly show themselves of good heart, zeal,
and loyalty, towards the Queen our mistress. There is no doubt that
the general number of them had rather come under her Majesty's regiment,
than to continue under the States and burgomasters of their country.
The impositions which they lay in defence of their State is wonderful.
If her Highness proceed in this beginning, she may retain these parts
hers, with their good love, and her great glory and gain. I would she
might as perfectly see the whole country, towns, profits, and pleasures
thereof, in a glass, as she may her own face; I do then assure myself she
would with careful consideration receive them, and not allow of any man's
reason to the contrary . . . . The country is worthy any prince in
the world, the people do reverence the Queen, and in love of her do so
believe that the Grace of Leicester is by God and her sent among them for
her good. And they believe in him for the redemption of their bodies,
as they do in God for their souls. I dare pawn my soul, that if her
Majesty will allow him the just and rightful mean to manage this cause,
that he will so handle the manner and matter as shall highly both please
and profit her Majesty, and increase her country, and his own honour."
Lord North, who held a high command in the auxiliary force, spoke also
with great enthusiasm. "Had your Lordship seen," he wrote to Burghley,
"with what thankful hearts these countries receive all her Majesty's
subjects, what multitudes of people they be, what stately cities and
buildings they have, how notably fortified by art, how strong by nature,
flow fertile the whole country, and how wealthy it is, you would, I know,
praise the Lord that opened your lips to undertake this enterprise, the
continuance and good success whereof will eternise her Majesty, beautify
her crown, with the most shipping, with the most populous and wealthy
countries, that ever prince added to his kingdom, or that is or can be
found in Europe. I lack wit, good my Lord, to dilate this matter."
Leicester, better informed than some of those in his employment,
entertained strong suspicions concerning Philip's intentions with regard
to England; but he felt sure that the only way to laugh at a Spanish
invasion was to make Holland and England as nearly one as it was possible
to do.
"No doubt that the King of Spain's preparations by sea be great," he,
said; "but I know that all that he and his friends can make are not able
to match with her Majesty's forces, if it please her to use the means
that God hath given her. But besides her own, if she need; I will
undertake to furnish her from hence, upon two months' warning, a navy for
strong and tall ships, with their furniture and mariners, that the King
of Spain, and all that he can make, shall not be able to encounter with
them. I think the bruit of his preparations is made the greater to
terrify her Majesty and this country people. But, thanked be God, her
Majesty hath little cause to fear him. And in this country they esteem
no more of his power by sea than I do of six fisher-boats off Rye."
Thus suggestive is it to peep occasionally behind the curtain. In the
calm cabinet of the Escorial, Philip and his comendador mayor are laying
their heads together, preparing the invasion of England; making
arrangements for King Alexander's coronation in that island, and--like
sensible, farsighted persons as they are--even settling the succession
to the throne after Alexander's death, instead of carelessly leaving such
distant details to chance, or subsequent consideration. On the other
hand, plain Dutch sea-captains, grim beggars of the sea, and the like,
denizens of a free commonwealth and of the boundless ocean-men who are
at home on blue water, and who have burned gunpowder against those
prodigious slave-rowed galleys of Spain--together with their new allies,
the dauntless mariners of England--who at this very moment are "singeing
the King of Spain's beard," as it had never been singed before--are not
so much awestruck with the famous preparations for invasion as was
perhaps to be expected. There may be a delay, after all, before Parma
can be got safely established in London, and Elizabeth in Orcus, and
before the blood-tribunal of the Inquisition can substitute its sway for
that of the "most noble, wise, and learned United States." Certainly,
Philip the Prudent would have been startled, difficult as he was to
astonish, could he have known that those rebel Hollanders of his made
no more account of his slowly-preparing invincible armada than of six
fisher-boats off Rye. Time alone could show where confidence had been
best placed. Meantime it was certain, that it well behoved Holland and
England to hold hard together, nor let "that enterprise quail."
The famous expedition of Sir Francis Drake was the commencement of a
revelation. "That is the string," said Leicester, "that touches the King
indeed." It was soon to be made known to the world that the ocean was
not a Spanish Lake, nor both the Indies the private property of Philip.
"While the riches of the Indies continue," said Leicester, "he thinketh
he will be able to weary out all other princes; and I know, by good
means, that he more feareth this action of Sir Francis than he ever did
anything that has been attempted against him." With these continued
assaults upon the golden treasure-houses of Spain, and by a determined
effort to maintain the still more important stronghold which had been
wrested from her in the Netherlands, England might still be safe. "This
country is so full of ships and mariners," said Leicester, "so abundant
in wealth, and in the means to make money, that, had it but stood
neutral, what an aid had her Majesty been deprived of. But if it had
been the enemy's also, I leave it to your consideration what had been
likely to ensue. These people do now honour and love her Majesty in
marvellous sort."
There was but one feeling on this most important subject among the
English who went to the Netherlands. All held the same language. The
question was plainly presented to England whether she would secure to
herself the great bulwark of her defence, or place it in the hands of her
mortal foe? How could there be doubt or supineness on such a momentous
subject? "Surely, my Lord," wrote Richard Cavendish to Burghley, "if you
saw the wealth, the strength, the shipping, and abundance of mariners,
whereof these countries stand furnished, your heart would quake to think
that so hateful an enemy as Spain should again be furnished with such
instruments; and the Spaniards themselves do nothing doubt upon the hope
of the consequence hereof, to assure themselves of the certain ruin of
her Majesty and the whole estate."
And yet at the very outset of Leicester's administration, there was a
whisper of peace-overtures to Spain, secretly made by Elizabeth in her
own behalf, and in that of the Provinces. We shall have soon occasion to
examine into the truth of these rumours, which, whether originating in
truth or falsehood, were most pernicious in their effects. The
Hollanders were determined never to return to slavery again, so long as
they could fire a shot in their own defence. They earnestly wished
English cooperation, but it was the cooperation of English matchlocks and
English cutlasses, not English protecols and apostilles. It was
military, not diplomatic machinery that they required. If they could
make up their minds to submit to Philip and the Inquisition again, Philip
and the Holy office were but too ready to receive the erring penitents to
their embrace without a go-between.