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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 28
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1577
By John Lothrop Motley
1855
CHAPTER III.
The city of Namur--Margaret of Valois--Her intrigues in Hainault in
favour of Alencon--Her reception by Don John at Namur--Festivities
in her, honor--Seizure of Namur citadel by Don John--Plan for
seizing that of Antwerp--Letter of the estates to Philip, sent by
Escovedo--Fortunes and fate of Escovedo in Madrid--Repairing of
dykes--The Prince's visit to Holland--His letter to the estates--
general on the subject of Namur citadel--His visit to Utrecht--
Correspondence and commissioners between Don John and the estates--
Acrimonious and passionate character of these colloquies--Attempt of
Treslong upon Antwerp citadel frustrated by De Bourse--Fortunate
panic of the German mercenaries--Antwerp evacuated by the foreign
troops--Renewed correspondence--Audacity of the Governor's demands--
Letters of Escovedo and others intercepted--Private schemes of Don
John not understood by the estates--His letter to the Empress
Dowager--More correspondence with the estates--Painful and false
position of the Governor--Demolition, in part, of Antwerp citadel,
and of other fortresses by the patriots Statue of Alva--Letter of
estates-general to the King.
There were few cities of the Netherlands more picturesque in situation,
more trimly built, and more opulent of aspect than the little city of
Namur. Seated at the confluence of the Sombre with the Meuse, and
throwing over each river a bridge of solid but graceful structure, it lay
in the lap of a most fruitful valley. Abroad crescent-shaped plain,
fringed by the rapid Meuse, and enclosed by gently rolling hills
cultivated to their crests, or by abrupt precipices of limestone crowned
with verdure, was divided by numerous hedgerows, and dotted all over with
corn-fields, vineyards, and flower gardens. Many eyes have gazed with
delight upon that well-known and most lovely valley, and many torrents of
blood have mingled with those glancing waters since that long buried and
most sanguinary age which forms our theme; and still placid as ever is
the valley, brightly as ever flows the stream. Even now, as in that
vanished, but never-forgotten time, nestles the little city in the angle
of the two rivers; still directly over its head seems to hang in mid-air
the massive and frowning fortress, like the gigantic helmet-in the
fiction, as if ready to crush the pigmy town below.
It was this famous citadel, crowning an abrupt precipice five hundred
feet above the river's bed, and placed near the frontier of France, which
made the city so important, and which had now attracted Don John's
attention in this hour of his perplexity. The unexpected visit of a
celebrated personage, furnished him with the pretext which he desired.
The beautiful Margaret of Valois, Queen of Navarre, was proceeding to the
baths of Spa, to drink the waters. Her health was as perfect as her
beauty, but she was flying from a husband whom she hated, to advance the
interest of a brother whom she loved with a more than sisterly fondness--
for the worthless Duke of Alencon was one of the many competitors for the
Netherland government; the correspondence between himself and his brother
with Orange and his agents being still continued. The hollow truce with
the Huguenots in France had, however, been again succeeded by war. Henry
of Valois had already commenced operations in Gascony against Henry of
Navarre, whom he hated, almost as cordially as Margaret herself could do,
and the Duke of Alencon was besieging Issoire. Meantime, the beautiful
Queen came to mingle he golden thread of her feminine intrigues with the
dark woof of the Netherland destinies.
Few spirits have been more subtle, few faces so fatal as hers. True
child of the Medicean mother, worthy sister of Charles, Henry; and
Francis--princes for ever infamous in the annals of France--she possessed
more beauty and wit than Mary of Scotland, more learning and
accomplishments than Elizabeth of England. In the blaze of her beauty,
according to the inflated language of her most determined worshiper, the
wings of all rivals were melted. Heaven required to be raised higher and
earth made wider, before a full sweep could be given to her own majestic
flight. We are further informed that she was a Minerva for eloquence,
that she composed matchless poems which she sang most exquisitely to the
sound of her lute, and that her familiar letters were so full of genius,
that "poor Cicero" was but a fool to her in the same branch of
composition. The world has shuddered for ages at the dark tragedy of
her nuptials. Was it strange that hatred, incest, murder, should follow
in the train of a wedding thus hideously solemnized?
Don John, as in his Moorish disguise he had looked upon her perfections,
had felt in danger of becoming really the slave he personated--"her
beauty is more divine than human," he had cried, "but fitter to destroy
men's souls than to bless them;" and now the enchantress was on her way
to his dominions. Her road led through Namur to Liege, and gallantry
required that he should meet her as she passed. Attended by a select
band of gentlemen and a few horsemen of his body-guard, the Governor came
to Namur.
Meantime the Queen crossed the frontier, and was courteously received at
Cambray. The bishop-of the loyal house of Berlaymont--was a stanch
supporter of the King, and although a Fleming, was Spanish to the core.
On him the cajolery of the beautiful Queen was first essayed, but was
found powerless. The prelate gave her a magnificent ball, but resisted
her blandishments. He retired with the appearance of the confections,
but the governor of the citadel, the Seigneur d'Inchy remained, with whom
Margaret was more successful. She found him a cordial hater of Spain, a
favorer of France, and very impatient under the authority of the bishop.
He obtained permission to accompany the royal visitor a few stages of her
journey, and returned to Cambray, her willing slave; holding the castle
in future, neither for king nor bishop, but for Margaret's brother,
Alencon, alone. At Mons she was received with great state by the Count
Lalain, who was governor of Hainault, while his Countess governed him.
A week of festivities graced the advent of the Queen, during which period
the hearts of both Lalain and his wife were completely subjugated. They
agreed that Flanders had been too long separated from the parental France
to which it of right belonged. The Count was a stanch Catholic, but he
hated Spain. He was a relative of Egmont, and anxious to avenge his
death, but he was no lover of the people, and was jealous of Orange.
Moreover, his wife had become entirely fascinated by the designing.
Queen. So warm a friendship had sprung up between the two fair ladies as
to make it indispensable that Flanders and Hainault should be annexed to
France. The Count promised to hold his whole government at the service
of Alencon, and recommended that an attempt should be made to gain over
the incorruptible Governor of Cambray. Margaret did not inform him that
she had already turned that functionary round her finger, but she urged
Lalain and his wife to seduce him from his allegiance, if possible.
The Count, with a retinue of mounted men, then accompanied her on her way
towards Namur, but turned as the distant tramp of Don John's cavalcade
was heard approaching, for it was not desirable for Lalain, at that
moment, to find himself face to face with the Governor. Don John stood a
moment awaiting the arrival of the Queen. He did not dream of her
political intrigues, nor see in the fair form approaching him one mortal
enemy the more. Margaret travelled in a splendid litter with gilt
pillars, lined with scarlet velvet, and entirely enclosed in glass, which
was followed by those of the Princess de la Roche sur Yon, and of Madame
de Tournon. After these came ten ladies of honor on horseback, and six
chariots filled with female domestics. These, with the guards and other
attendants, made up the retinue. On meeting the Queen's litter, Don John
sprang from his horse and presented his greetings. The Queen returned
his salutation, in the French fashion, by offering her cheek to his
embrace, extending the same favor to the Duke of Aerschot and the Marquis
of Havre. The cavaliers then remounted and escorted the Queen to Namur,
Don John riding by the side of the litter and conversing with her all the
way. It was late in the evening when the procession arrived in the city.
The streets had, however, been brilliantly illuminated; houses and shops,
though it was near midnight, being in a blaze of light. Don John
believing that no attentions could be so acceptable at that hour as to
provide for the repose of his guest, conducted the Queen at once to the
lodgings prepared for her. Margaret was astonished at the magnificence
of the apartments into which she was ushered. A spacious and stately
hall, most gorgeously furnished, opened into a series of chambers and
cabinets, worthy, in their appointments, of a royal palace. The tent and
bed coverings prepared for the Queen were exquisitely embroidered in
needlework with scenes representing the battle of Lepanto. The great
hall was hung with gorgeous tapestry of satin and velvet, ornamented with
columns of raised silver work, and with many figures in antique costume,
of the same massive embroidery. The rest of the furniture was also of
satin, velvet, cloth of gold, and brocade. The Queen was dazzled with
so much magnificence, and one of the courtiers could not help expressing
astonishment at the splendor of the apartments and decorations, which,
as he observed to the Duke of Aerschot; seemed more appropriate to the
palace of a powerful monarch than to the apartments of a young bachelor
prince. The Duke replied by explaining that the expensive embroidery
which they saw was the result, not of extravagance, but of valor and
generosity. After the battle of Lepanto, Don John had restored the two
sons, who had been taken prisoners, of a powerful Turkish bashaw. The
father; in gratitude had sent this magnificent tapestry as a present to
the conqueror, and Don John had received it, at Milan; in which city,
celebrated for the taste of its upholsterers; it had been arranged for
furniture.
The next morning a grand mass with military music was performed, followed
by a sumptuous banquet in the grand hall. Don John and the Queen sat at
a table three feet apart from the rest, and Ottavio Gonzaga served them
wine upon his knees. After the banquet came, as usual; the ball, the
festivities continuing till late in the night, and Don John scarcely
quitting his fair guest for a moment. The next afternoon, a festival had
been arranged upon an island in the river. The company embarked upon the
Meuse, in a fleet of gaily-scarfed; and painted vessels, many of which
were filled with musicians. Margaret reclined in her gilded barge, under
a richly embroidered canopy. A fairer and falser Queen than "Egypt," had
bewitched the famous youth who had triumphed not, lost the world, beneath
the heights of Actium. The revellers landed on the island, where the
banquet was already spread within a spacious bower of ivy, and beneath
umbrageous elms. The dance upon the sward was protracted to a late hour,
and the summer stars had been long in the sky when the company returned
to their barges.
Don John, more than ever enthralled by the bride of St. Bartholomew, knew
not that her sole purpose in visiting his dominion had been to corrupt
his servants and to undermine his authority. His own purpose, however,
had been less to pay court to the Queen than to make, use of her presence
to cover his own designs. That purpose he proceeded instantly to
execute. The Queen next morning pursued her voyage by the river to
Liege, and scarcely had she floated out of his sight than he sprang upon
his horse and, accompanied by a few trusty attendants, galloped out of
the gate and across the bridge which led to the citadel. He had already
despatched the loyal Berlaymont, with his four equally loyal sons, the
Seigneurs de Meghen, Floyon, Hierges, and Haultepenne to that fortress.
These gentlemen had informed the castellan that the Governor was about
to ride forth hunting, and that it would be proper to offer him the
hospitalities of the castle as he passed on his way. A considerable
number of armed men had been concealed in the woods and thickets of the
neighbourhood. The Seigneur de Froymont, suspecting nothing, acceded to
the propriety of the suggestion made by the Berlaymonts. Meantime, with
a blast of his horn, Don John appeared at the castle gate. He entered
the fortress with the castellan, while one of the gentlemen watched
outside, as the ambushed soldiers came toiling up the precipice. When
all was ready the gentleman returned to the hall, and made a signal to
Don John, as he sat at breakfast with the constable. The Governor sprang
from the table and drew his sword; Berlaymont and his four sons drew
their pistols, while at the same instant, the soldiers entered. Don
John, exclaiming that this was the first day of his government, commanded
the castellan to surrender. De Froymont, taken by surprise, and hardly
understanding this very melo-dramatic attack upon a citadel by its own
lawful governor, made not much difficulty in complying. He was then
turned out of doors, along with his garrison, mostly feeble old men and
invalids. The newly arrived soldiers took their places, at command of
the Governor, and the stronghold of Namur was his own.
There was little doubt that the representative of Philip had a perfect
right to possess himself of any fortress within his government; there
could be as little that the sudden stratagem by which he had thus made
himself master of this citadel would prove offensive to the estates,
while it could hardly be agreeable to the King; and yet it is not certain
that he could have accomplished his purpose in any other way. Moreover,
the achievement was one of a projected series by which he meant to
re-vindicate his dwindling authority. He was weary of playing the
hypocrite, and convinced that he and his monarch were both abhorred by
the Netherlanders. Peace was impossible--war was forbidden him. Reduced
almost to a nullity by the Prince of Orange, it was time for him to make
a stand, and in this impregnable fastness his position at least was a
good one. Many months before, the Prince of Orange had expressed his
anxious desire that this most important town and citadel should be
secured-for the estates. "You know," he had written to Bossu in
December, "the evil and the dismay which the loss of the city and
fortress of Namur would occasion to us. Let me beseech you that all
possible care be taken to preserve them." Nevertheless, their
preservation had been entrusted to a feeble-minded old constable,
at the head of a handful of cripples.
We know how intense had been the solicitude of the Prince, not only to
secure but to destroy these citadels, "nests of tyranny," which had been
built by despots to crush, not protect, the towns at their feet. These
precautions had been neglected, and the consequences were displaying
themselves, for the castle of Namur was not the only one of which Don
John felt himself secure. Although the Duke of Aerschot seemed so very
much his humble servant, the Governor did not trust him, and wished to
see the citadel of Antwerp in more unquestionable keeping. He had
therefore withdrawn, not only the Duke, but his son, the Prince of
Chimay, commander of the castle in his father's absence, from that
important post, and insisted upon their accompanying him to Namur.
So gallant a courtier as Aerschot could hardly refuse to pay his homage
to so illustrious a princess as Margaret of Valois, while during the
absence of the Duke and Prince the keys of Antwerp-citadel had been, at
the command of Don John, placed in the keeping of the Seigneur de
Treslong, an unscrupulous and devoted royalist. The celebrated Colonel
Van Ende, whose participation, at the head of his German cavalry, in the
terrible sack of that city, which he had been ordered to defend, has been
narrated, was commanded to return to Antwerp. He was to present himself
openly to the city authorities, but he was secretly directed by the
Governor-General to act in co-operation with the Colonels Fugger,
Frondsberger, and Polwiller, who commanded the forces already stationed
in the city. These distinguished officers had been all summer in secret
correspondence with Don John, for they were the instruments with which he
meant by a bold stroke to recover his almost lost authority. While he
had seemed to be seconding the efforts of the states-general to pay off
and disband these mercenaries, nothing had in reality been farther from
his thoughts; and the time had now come when his secret plans were to be
executed, according to the agreement between himself and the German
colonels. He wrote to them, accordingly, to delay no longer the
accomplishment of the deed--that deed being the seizure of Antwerp
citadel, as he had already successfully mastered that of Namur. The Duke
of Aerschot, his brother, and son, were in his power, and could do
nothing to prevent the co-operation of the colonels in the city with
Treslong in the castle; so that the Governor would thus be enabled,
laying his head tranquilly upon "the pillow of the Antwerp citadel,"
according to the reproachful expression subsequently used by the estates,
to await the progress of events.
The current of his adventurous career was not, however, destined to run
thus smoothly. It is true that the estates had not yet entirely lost
their confidence in his character; but the seizure of Namur, and the
attempt upon Antwerp, together with the contents of the intercepted
letters written by himself and Escovedo to Philip, to Perez, to the
Empress, to the Colonels Frondsberger and Fugger, were soon destined to
open their eyes. In the meantime, almost exactly at the moment when Don
John was executing his enterprise against Namur, Escovedo had taken an
affectionate farewell of the estates at Brussels for it had been thought
necessary, as already intimated, both for the apparent interests and the
secret projects of Don John; that the Secretary should make a visit to
Spain. At the command of the Governor-General he had offered to take
charge of any communication for his Majesty which the estates might be
disposed to entrust to him, and they had accordingly addressed a long
epistle to the King, in which they gave ample expression to their
indignation and their woe. They remonstrated with the King concerning
the continued presence of the German mercenaries, whose knives were ever
at their throats, whose plunder and insolence impoverished and tortured
the people. They reminded him of the vast sums which the provinces had
contributed in times past to the support of government, and they begged
assistance from his bounty now. They recalled to his vision the
melancholy spectacle of Antwerp, but lately the "nurse of Europe, the
fairest flower in his royal garland, the foremost and noblest city of the
earth, now quite desolate and forlorn," and with additional instructions
to Escovedo, that he should not fail, in his verbal communications, to
represent the evil consequences of the course hitherto pursued by his
Majesty's governors in the Netherlands, they dismissed him with good
wishes, and with "crowns for convoy" in his purse to the amount of a
revenue of two thousand yearly. His secret correspondence was
intercepted and made known a few weeks after his departure for that
terrible Spain whence so few travellers returned.
For a moment we follow him thither. With a single word in anticipation,
concerning the causes and the consummation of this celebrated murder,
which was delayed till the following year, the unfortunate Escovedo may
be dismissed from these pages. It has been seen how artfully Antonio
Perez, Secretary of State, paramour of Princess Eboli, and ruling
councillor at that day of Philip, had fostered in the King's mind the
most extravagant suspicions as to the schemes of Don John, and of his
confidential secretary. He had represented it as their fixed and secret
intention, after Don John should be finally established on the throne of
England, to attack Philip himself in Spain, and to deprive him of his
crown, Escovedo being represented as the prime instigator and controller
of this astounding plot, which lunatics only could have engendered, and
which probably never had existence.
No proof of the wild design was offered. The language which Escovedo was
accused by Perez of having held previously to his departure for Flanders
--that it was the intention of Don John and himself to fortify the rock
of Mogio, with which, and with the command of the city of Santander, they
could make themselves masters of Spain after having obtained possession
of England,--is too absurd to have been uttered by a man of Escovedo's
capacity. Certainly, had Perez been provided with the least scrap of
writing from the hands of Don John or Escovedo which could be tortured
into evidence upon this point, it would have been forthcoming, and would
have rendered such fictitious hearsay superfluous. Perez in connivance
with Philip, had been systematically conducting his correspondence with
Don John and Escovedo, in order to elicit some evidence of the imputed
scheme. "'T was the only way," said Perez to Philip, "to make them
unbare their bosoms to the sword."--"I am quite of the same opinion,"
replied Philip to Perez, "for, according to my theology, you would do
your duty neither to God nor the world, unless you did as you are doing."
Yet the excellent pair of conspirators at Madrid could wring no damning
proofs from the lips of the supposititious conspirators in Flanders, save
that Don John, after Escovedo's arrival in Madrid, wrote, impatiently and
frequently, to demand that he should be sent back, together with the
money which he had gone to Spain to procure. "Money, more money, and
Escovedo," wrote the Governor, and Philip was quite willing to accept
this most natural exclamation as evidence of his brother's designs
against his crown. Out of these shreds and patches--the plot against
England, the Pope's bull, the desire expressed by Don John to march into
France as a simple adventurer, with a few thousand men at his back--
Perez, according to his own statement, drew up a protocol, afterwards
formally approved by Philip, which concluded with the necessity of taking
Escovedo's life, instantly but privately, and by poison. The Marquis de
Los Velos, to whom the memorial was submitted for his advice, averred
that if the death-bed wafer were in his own lips, he should vote for the
death of the culprit. Philip had already jumped to the same conclusion;
Perez joyfully undertook the business, having received carte blanche from
the King, and thus the unfortunate secretary was doomed. Immediately
after the arrival of Escovedo in Madrid, he addressed a letter to the
King. Philip filed it away among other despatches, with this annotation:
"the 'avant courier' has arrived--it is necessary to make great haste,
and to despatch him before he murders us."
The King, having been thus artfully inflamed against his brother and his
unfortunate secretary, became clamorous for the blood of Escovedo. At
the same time, that personage, soon after his return to Spain, was
shocked by the discovery of the amour of Perez with the Princess Eboli.
He considered it his duty, both towards the deceased Prince and the
living King, to protest against this perfidy. He threatened to denounce
to the King, who seemed the only person about the court ignorant of the
affair, this double treason of his mistress and his minister. Perez and
Anna of Eboli, furious at Escovedo's insolence, and anxious lest he
should execute his menace determined to disembarrass themselves of so
meddlesome a person. Philip's rage against Don John was accordingly
turned to account, and Perez received the King's secret orders to procure
Escovedo's assassination. Thus an imaginary conspiracy of Don John
against, the crown of Philip was the pretext, the fears and rage of Eboli
and her paramour were the substantial reason, for the crime now
projected.
The details of the murder were arranged and executed by Perez, but it
must be confessed in justice to Philip, with much inferior nicety to that
of his, own performances in the same field. Many persons were privy to
the plot. There was much blundering, there was great public scandal in
Madrid, and no one ever had a reasonable doubt as to the instigators and
the actual perpetrators of the crime. Two attempts to poison Escovedo
were made by Perez, at his own table, through the agency of Antonio
Enriquez, a confidential servant or page. Both were unsuccessful.
A third was equally so, but suspicions were aroused. A female slave in
the household of Escovedo, was in consequence arrested, and immediately
hanged in the public square, for a pretended attempt to murder her
master. A few days afterwards (on the 31st of March, 1578) the deed was
accomplished at nightfall in the streets of Madrid, by six conspirators.
They consisted of the majordomo of Perez, a page in his household, the
page's brother from the country, an ex-scullion from the royal kitchens,
Juan Rubio by name, who had been the unsuccessful agent in the poisoning
scheme, together with two professional bravos, hired for the occasion.
It was Insausti, one of this last-mentioned couple, who despatched
Escovedo with a single stab, the others aiding and abetting, or keeping
watch in the neighbourhood.
The murderers effected their escape, and made their report to Perez, who
for the sake of appearances, was upon a visit in the country. Suspicion
soon tracked the real culprits, who were above the reach of justice; nor,
as to the motives which had prompted the murders, were many ignorant,
save only the murderer himself. Philip had ordered the, assassination;
but he was profoundly deceived as to the causes of its accomplishment.
He was the dupe of a subtler villain than himself, and thought himself
sacrificing a conspirator against his crown, while he had really only
crushed a poor creature who had been but too solicitous for what he
thought his master's honor.
The assassins were, of course, protected from prosecution, and duly
recompensed. Miguel Bosque, the country boy, received one hundred crowns
in gold, paid by a clerk of Perez. Mesa, one of the bravos, was rewarded
with a gold chain, fifty doubloons of eight, and a silver cup, besides
receiving from the fair hand of Princess Eboli herself a certificate as
under-steward upon her estates. The second bravo, Insausti, who had done
the deed, the page Enriquez, and the scullion, were all appointed ensigns
in his Majesty's army, with twenty gold crowns of annual pension besides.
Their commissions were signed by Philip on the 19th of April, 1578. Such
were the wages of murder at that day in Spain; gold chains, silver cups,
doubloons, annuities, and commissions in the army! The reward of
fidelity, as in poor Escovedo's case, was oftener the stiletto. Was it
astonishing that murder was more common than fidelity?
With the subsequent career of Antonio Perez--his famous process, his
banishment, his intrigues, his innuendos, his long exile, and his
miserable death, this history has no concern. We return from our brief
digression.
Before narrating the issue of the plot against Antwerp citadel, it is
necessary to recur for a moment to the Prince of Orange. In the deeds
and the written words of that one man are comprised nearly all the
history of the Reformation in the Netherlands--nearly the whole progress
of the infant Republic. The rest, during this period, is made up of the
plottings and counter-plottings, the mutual wranglings and recriminations
of Don John and the estates.
In the brief breathing-space now afforded them, the inhabitants of
Holland and Zealand had been employing themselves in the extensive
repairs of their vast system of dykes. These barriers, which protected
their country against the ocean, but which their own hands had destroyed
to preserve themselves against tyranny, were now thoroughly
reconstructed, at a great expense, the Prince everywhere encouraging the
people with his presence, directing them by his experience, inspiring
them with his energy. The task accomplished was stupendous and worthy,
says a contemporary, of eternal memory.
At the popular request, the Prince afterwards made a tour through the
little provinces, honoring every city with a brief visit. The
spontaneous homage which went up to him from every heart was pathetic and
simple. There were no triumphal arches, no martial music, no banners, no
theatrical pageantry nothing but the choral anthem from thousands of
grateful hearts. "Father William has come! Father William has come!"
cried men, women, and children to each other, when the news of his
arrival in town or village was announced. He was a patriarch visiting
his children, not a conqueror, nor a vulgar potentate displaying himself
to his admirers. Happy were they who heard his voice, happier they who
touched his hands, for his words were full of tenderness, his hand was
offered to all. There were none so humble as to be forbidden to approach
him, none so ignorant as not to know his deeds. All knew that to combat
in their cause he had descended from princely station, from luxurious
ease, to the position of a proscribed and almost beggared outlaw. For
them he had impoverished himself and his family, mortgaged his estates,
stripped himself of jewels, furniture, almost of food and raiment.
Through his exertions the Spaniards had been banished from their little
territory, the Inquisition crushed within their borders, nearly all the
sister provinces but yesterday banded into a common cause.
He found time, notwithstanding congratulating crowds who thronged his
footsteps, to direct the labors of the states-general, who still looked
more than ever to his guidance, as their relations with Don John became
more complicated and unsatisfactory. In a letter addressed to them, on
the 20th of June from Harlem, he warned them most eloquently to hold to
the Ghent Pacification as to their anchor in the storm. He assured them,
if it was, torn from them, that their destruction was inevitable. He
reminded them that hitherto they had got but the shadow, not the
substance of the Treaty; that they had been robbed of that which was to
have been its chief fruit--union among themselves. He and his brothers,
with their labor, their wealth, and their blood, had laid down the bridge
over which the country had stepped to the Pacification of Ghent. It was
for the nation to maintain what had been so painfully won; yet he
proclaimed to them that the government were not acting in good faith,
that secret, preparations were making to annihilate the authority of the
states; to restore the edicts, to put strangers into high places, and to
set up again the scaffold and the whole machinery of persecution.
In consequence of the seizure of Namur Castle, and the accusations made
by Don John against Orange, in order to justify that act, the Prince had
already despatched Taffin and Saint Aldegonde to the states-general with
a commission to declare his sentiments upon the subject. He addressed,
moreover, to the same body a letter full of sincere and simple eloquence.
"The Seigneur Don John," said he, has accused me of violating the peace,
and of countenancing attempts against his life, and in endeavouring to
persuade you into joining him in a declaration of war against me and
against Holland and Zealand; but I pray you, most affectionately, to
remember our mutual and solemn obligations to maintain the treaty of
Ghent." He entreated the states, therefore, to beware of the artifices
employed to seduce them from the only path which led to the tranquillity
of their common country, and her true splendor and prosperity.
"I believe there is not one of you," he continued, "who can doubt me,
if he will weigh carefully all my actions, and consider closely the
course which I am pursuing and have always pursued. Let all these be
confronted with the conduct of Don John, and any man will perceive that
all my views of happiness, both for my country and myself, imply a
peaceable enjoyment of the union, joined with the legitimate restoration
of our liberties, to which all good patriots aspire, and towards which
all my designs have ever tended. As all the grandeur of Don John, on the
contrary, consists in war, as there is nothing which he so much abhors as
repose, as he has given ample proof of these inclinations in all his
designs and enterprises, both before and after the Treaty of Marche en
Famine, both within the country and beyond its borders, as it is most
manifest that his purpose is, and ever has been, to embroil us with our
neighbours of England and Scotland in new dissensions, as it must be
evident to every one of you that his pretended accusations against me are
but colors and shadows to embellish and to shroud his own desire for war,
his appetite for vengeance, and his hatred not only to me but to
yourselves, and as his determination is, in the words of Escovedo, to
chastise some of us by means of the rest, and to excite the jealousy of
one portion of the country against the other--therefore, gentlemen, do I
most affectionately exhort you to found your decision, as to these
matters, not upon words but upon actions. Examine carefully my conduct
in the points concerning which the charges are made; listen attentively
to what my envoys will communicate to you in my behalf; and then, having
compared it with all the proceedings of Seigneur Don John, you will be
able to form a resolution worthy the rank which you occupy, and befitting
your obligations to the whole people, of whom you have been chosen chiefs
and protectors, by God and by men. Put away all considerations which
might obscure your clear eye-sight; maintain with magnanimity, and like
men, the safety of yourselves, your wives, your children, your estates,
your liberties; see that this poor people, whose eyes are fixed upon you,
does not perish; preserve them from the greediness of those who would
grow great at your expense; guard them from the yoke of miserable
servitude; let not all our posterity lament that, by our pusillanimity,
they have lost the liberties which our ancestors had conquered for them,
and bequeathed to them as well as to us, and that they have been
subjugated by the proud tyranny of strangers.
"Trusting," said the Prince, in conclusion, "that you will accord faith
and attention to my envoys, I will only add an expression of my sincere
determination to employ myself incessantly in your service, and for the
welfare of the whole people, without sparing any means in my power, nor
my life itself."
The vigilant Prince was indeed not slow to take advantage of the
Governor's false move. While in reality intending peace, if it were
possible, Don John had thrown down the gauntlet; while affecting to deal
openly and manfully, like a warrior and an emperor's son, he had involved
himself in petty stratagems and transparent intrigues, by all which he
had gained nothing but the character of a plotter, whose word could not
be trusted. Saint Aldegonde expressed the hope that the seizure of Namur
Castle would open the eyes of the people, and certainly the Prince did
his best to sharpen their vision.
While in North Holland, William of Orange received an urgent invitation
from the magistracy and community of Utrecht to visit that city. His
authority, belonging to him under his ancient commission, had not yet
been recognized over that province, but there was no doubt that the
contemplated convention of "satisfaction" was soon to be; arranged, for
his friends there were numerous and influential. His princess, Charlotte
de Bourbon, who accompanied him on his tour, trembled at the danger to
which her husband would expose himself by venturing thus boldly into a
territory which might be full of his enemies, but the Prince determined
to trust the loyalty of a province which he hoped would be soon his own.
With anxious forebodings, the Princess followed her husband to the
ancient episcopal city. As they entered its gates, where an immense
concourse was waiting to receive him, a shot passed through the carriage
window, and struck the Prince upon the breast. The affrighted lady threw
her arms about his neck; shrieking that they were betrayed, but the
Prince, perceiving that the supposed shot was but a wad from one of the
cannon, which were still roaring their welcome to him, soon succeeded in
calming her fears. The carriage passed lowly through the streets,
attended by the vociferous greetings of the multitude; for the whole
population had come forth to do him honor. Women and children clustered
upon every roof and balcony, but a painful incident again marred the
tranquillity of the occasion. An apothecary's child, a little girl of
ten years, leaning eagerly from a lofty balcony, lost her balance
and fell to the ground, directly before the horses of the Prince's
carriage. She was killed stone dead by the fall. The procession
stopped; the Prince alighted, lifted the little corpse in his arms, and
delivered it, with gentle words and looks of consolation, to the unhappy
parents. The day seemed marked with evil omens, which were fortunately
destined to prove fallacious. The citizens of Utrecht became more than
ever inclined to accept the dominion of the Prince, whom they honored and
whom they already regarded as their natural chief. They entertained him
with banquets and festivities during his brief visit, and it was certain
before he took his departure that the treaty of "Satisfaction" would not
be long delayed. It was drawn up, accordingly, in the autumn of the same
year, upon the basis of that accepted by Harlem and Amsterdam--a basis
wide enough to support both religions, with a nominal supremacy to the
ancient Church.
Meantime, much fruitless correspondence had taken place between Don John
and the states Envoys; despatched by the two parties to each other, had
indulged in bitterness and recrimination. As soon as the Governor, had
taken: possession of Namur Castle, he had sent the Seigneur, de
Rassinghem to the states-general. That gentleman carried with him copies
of two anonymous letters, received by Don John upon the 19th and 21st of
July, 1577, in which a conspiracy against his life and liberty was
revealed. It was believed by the Governor that Count Lalain, who had
secretly invited him to a conference, had laid an ambush for him. It was
known that the country was full of disbanded soldiers, and the Governor
asserted confidently that numbers of desperadoes were lying in wait for
him in every village alehouse of Hainault and Flanders. He called on the
states to ferret out these conspirators, and to inflict condign
punishment upon their more guilty chiefs; he required that the soldiers,
as well as the citizens, should be disarmed at Brussels and throughout
Brabant, and he justified his seizure of Namur, upon the general ground
that his life was no longer safe, except in a fortress.
In reply to the letter of the Governor, which was dated the 24th of July,
the states despatched Marolles, Archdeacon of Ypres, and the Seigneur de
Bresse, to Namur, with a special mission to enter into the whole subject
of these grievances. These gentlemen, professing the utmost devotion to
the cause of his Majesty's authority and the Catholic religion, expressed
doubts as to the existence of the supposed conspiracy. They demanded
that Don John should denounce the culprits, if any such were known, in
order that proper chastisement might be instantly inflicted. The
conversation which ensued was certainly unsatisfactory. The Governor
used lofty and somewhat threatening language, assuring Marolles that he
was at that moment in possession, not only of Namur but of Antwerp
citadel; and the deputies accordingly departed, having accomplished very
little by their journey. Their backs were scarcely turned, when Don
John, on his part, immediately appointed another commission, consisting
of Rassinghem and Grobbendonck, to travel from Namur to Brussels. These
envoys carried a long letter of grievances, enclosing a short list of
demands. The letter reiterated his complaints about conspiracies, and
his protestations of sincerity. It was full of censure upon the Prince
of Orange; stigmatized his intrigues to obtain possession of Amsterdam
without a proper "Satisfaction," and of Utrecht, to which he had no claim
at all. It maintained that the Hollanders and Zealanders were bent upon
utterly exterminating the Catholic religion, and that they avowed
publicly their intention to refuse obedience to the assembly-general,
should it decree the maintenance of the ancient worship only. His chief
demands were that the states should send him a list of persons qualified
to be members of the general assembly, that he might see whether there
were not individuals among them whom he might choose to reject. He
further required that, if the Prince of Orange did not instantly fulfil
the treaty of Ghent, the states should cease to hold any communication
with him. He also summoned the states to provide him forthwith with a
suitable body-guard.
To these demands and complaints, the estates replied by a string of
resolutions. They made their usual protestations of attachment to his
Majesty and the Catholic faith, and they granted willingly a foot-guard
of three hundred archers. They, however, stoutly denied the Governor's
right to make eliminations in their lists of deputies, because, from time
immemorial, these representatives had been chosen by the clergy, nobles,
cities, and boroughs. The names might change daily, nor were there any
suspicious ones among them, but it was a matter with which the Governor
had no concern. They promised that every effort should be made to bring
about the execution of the treaty by the Prince of Orange. They begged
Don John; however, to abandon the citadel of Namur, and gave him to
understand that his secret practices had been discovered, a large packet
of letters having recently been intercepted in the neighbourhood of
Bourdeaux, and sent to the Prince of Orange. Among them were some of the
despatches of Don John and Escovedo, to his Majesty and to Antonio Perez,
to which allusion has already been made.
Count Bossu, De Bresse, and Meetkercke were the envoys deputed to convey
these resolutions to Namur. They had a long and bitter conversation with
Don John, who complained, more furiously than ever of the conspiracies
against his person, and of the intrigues of Orange. He insisted that
this arch-traitor had been sowing the seed of his damnable doctrines
broadcast through the Netherlands; that the earth was groaning with a
daily ripening harvest of rebellion and heresy. It was time, he cried,
for the states to abandon the Prince, and rally round their King.
Patience had been exhausted. He had himself done all, and more than
could have been demanded. He had faithfully executed the Ghent
Pacification, but his conduct had neither elicited gratitude nor inspired
confidence.
The deputies replied, that to the due execution of the Ghent treaty it
was necessary that he should disband the German troops, assemble the
states-general, and carry out their resolutions. Until these things,
now undone, had been accomplished, he had no right to plead his faithful
fulfilment of the Pacification. After much conversation--in which the
same grievances were repeated, the same statements produced and
contradicted, the same demands urged and evaded, and the same menaces
exchanged as upon former occasions--the deputies returned to Brussels.
Immediately after their departure, Don John learned the result of his
project upon Antwerp Castle. It will be remembered that he had withdrawn
Aerschot, under pretext of requiring his company on the visit to Queen
Margaret, and that he had substituted Treslong, an unscrupulous partisan
of his own, in the government of the citadel. The temporary commander
soon found, however, that he had undertaken more than he could perform.
The troops under Van Ende were refused admittance into the town, although
permission to quarter them there had been requested by the Governor-
General. The 'authorities had been assured that the troops were
necessary for the protection of their city, but the magistrates had
learned, but too recently, the nature of the protection which Van Ende,
with his mercenaries, would afford. A detachment of states troops under
De Yers, Champagny's nephew, encountered the regiment of Van Ende, and
put it to flight with considerable loss. At the same time, an officer in
the garrison of the citadel itself, Captain De Bours, undertook secretly
to carry the fortress for the estates. His operations were secret and
rapid. The Seigneur de Liedekerke had succeeded Champagny in the
government of the city. This appointment had been brought about by the
agency of the Greffier Martini, a warm partisan of Orange. The new
Governor was known to be very much the Prince's friend, and believed to
be at heart a convert to the Reformed religion. With Martini and
Liedekerke, De Bours arranged his plot. He was supplied with a large sum
of money, readily furnished in secret by the leading mercantile houses of
the city. These funds were successfully invested in gaining over the
garrison, only one company holding firm for Treslong. The rest, as that
officer himself informed Don John, were ready at any moment "to take him
by the throat."
On the 1st of August, the day firmed upon in concert with the Governor
and Greffier, he was, in fact, taken by the throat. There was but a
brief combat, the issue of which became accidentally doubtful in the
city. The white-plumed hat of De Bours had been struck from his head in
the struggle, and had fallen into the foss. Floating out into the river,
it had been recognized by the scouts sent out by the personages most
interested, and the information was quickly brought to Liedekerke, who
was lying concealed in the house of Martini, awaiting the result. Their
dismay was great, but Martini, having more confidence than the Governor,
sallied forth to learn the whole truth. Scarcely had he got into the
streets than he heard a welcome cry, "The Beggars have the castle! the
Beggars have the castle!" shouted a hundred voices. He soon met a
lieutenant coming straight from the fortress, who related to him the
whole affair. Learning that De Bours was completely victorious, and that
Treslong was a prisoner, Martini hastened with the important intelligence
to his own home, where Liedekerke lay concealed. That functionary now
repaired to the citadel, whither the magistrates, the leading citizens,
and the chief merchants were instantly summoned. The castle was carried,
but the city was already trembling with apprehension lest the German
mercenaries quartered within its walls, should rise with indignation or
panic, and repeat the horrid tragedy of The Antwerp Fury.