correspondence of Don John with the colonels was already discovered,
and it was seen how warmly he had impressed upon the men with whom he
had been tampering, "that the die was cast," and that all their art was
necessary to make it turn up successfully. The castle was carried, but
what would become of the city? A brief and eager consultation terminated
in an immediate offer of three hundred thousand crowns by the leading
merchants. This money was to be employed in amicably satisfying, if
possible, the German soldiers, who had meanwhile actually come to arms,
and were assembled in the Place de Meer. Feeling unsafe; however, in
this locality, their colonels had led them into the new town. Here,
having barricaded themselves with gun-carriages, bales, and boxes, they
awaited, instead of initiating, the events which the day might bring
forth. A deputation soon arrived with a white flag from the castle, and
commissioners were appointed by the commanding officers of the soldiery.
The offer was made to pay over the arrears of their wages, at least to a
very large amount, on condition that the troops should forthwith and for
ever evacuate the city. One hundred and fifty thousand crowns were
offered on the nail. The merchants stood on the bridge leading from the
old town-to the new, in full sight of the soldiers. They held in their
hands their purses, filled with the glittering gold. The soldiers were
frantic with the opportunity, and swore that they would have their
officers' lives, if the tempting and unexpected offer should be declined.
Nevertheless, the commissioners went to and fro, ever finding something
to alter or arrange. In truth, the merchants had agreed to furnish; if
necessary, three hundred thousand Browns; but the thrifty negotiators
were disposed, if diplomacy could do it, to save the moiety of that sum.
Day began to sink, ere the bargain was completed, when suddenly sails
were descried in the distance, and presently a large fleet of war
vessels, with, banner and pennon flying before a favoring breeze; came
sailing up the Scheld. It was a squadron of the Prince's ships, under
command of Admiral Haultain. He had been sent against Tholen, but,
having received secret intelligence, had, with happy audacity, seized the
opportunity of striking a blow in the cause which he had served so
faithfully. A shot or two fired from the vessels among the barricades
had a quickening effect. A sudden and astounding panic seized the
soldiers. "The Beggars are coming! the Beggars are coming!" they
yelled in dismay; for the deeds of the ocean-beggars had not become less
appalling since the memorable siege of Leyden. The merchants still stood
on the bridge with their purses in their hand. The envoys from the
castle still waved their white flags. It was too late. The horror
inspired by the wild Zealanders overpowered the hope of wages,
extinguished all confidence in the friendship of the citizens. The
mercenaries, yielding to a violent paroxysm of fear, fled hither and
thither, panting, doubling, skulking, like wolves before the hounds.
Their flight was ludicrous. Without staying to accept the money which the
merchants were actually offering, without packing up their own property,
in many cases even throwing away their arms, they fled, helter skelter,
some plunging into the Scheid, some skimming along the dykes, some
rushing across the open fields. A portion of them under Colonel Fugger,
afterwards shut themselves up in Bergen op Zoom, where they were at once
besieged by Champagny, and were soon glad to compromise the matter by
surrendering their colonel and laying down their arms. The remainder
retreated to Breda, where they held out for two months, and were at
length overcome by a neat stratagem of Orange. A captain, being known
to be in the employment of Don John, was arrested on his way to Breda.
Carefully sewed up in his waistband was found a letter, of a finger's
breadth, written in cipher, and sealed with the Governor-General's seal.
Colonel Frondsberger, commanding in Breda, was in this missive earnestly
solicited to hold out two months longer, within which time a certain
relief was promised. In place of this letter, deciphered with much
difficulty, a new one was substituted, which the celebrated printer,
William Sylvius, of Antwerp, prepared with great adroitness, adding the
signature and seal of Don John. In this counterfeit epistle; the Colonel
was directed to do the best he could for himself, by reason that Don John
was himself besieged, and unable to render him assistance. The same
captain who had brought the real letter was bribed to deliver the
counterfeit. This task he faithfully performed, spreading the fictitious
intelligence besides, with such ardor through the town, that the troops
rose upon their leader, and surrendered him with the city and their own
arms, into the custody of the estates. Such was the result of the
attempt by Don John to secure the citadel--of Antwerp. Not only was the
fortress carried for the estates, but the city itself, for the first time
in twelve years, was relieved from a foreign soldiery.
The rage and disappointment of the Governor-General were excessive. He
had boasted to Marolles a day too soon. The prize which he thought
already in his grasp had slipped through his fingers, while an
interminable list of demands which he dreamed not of, and which were
likely to make him bankrupt, were brought to his door. To the states,
not himself, the triumph seemed for the moment decreed. The "dice" had
taken a run against him, notwithstanding his pains in loading and
throwing. Nevertheless, he did not yet despair of revenge. "These
rebels," he wrote to the Empress-dowager, his sister, "think that fortune
is all smiles for them now, and that all is ruin for me. The wretches
are growing proud enough, and forget that their chastisement, some fine
morning, will yet arrive."
On the 7th of August he addressed another long letter to the estates.
This document was accompanied, as usual, by certain demands, drawn up
categorically in twenty-three articles. The estates considered his terms
hard and strange, for in their opinion it was themselves, not the
Governor, who were masters of the situation. Nevertheless, he seemed
inclined to treat as if he had gained, not missed, the citadel of
Antwerp; as if the troops with whom he had tampered were mustered in the
field, not shut up in distant towns, and already at the mercy of the
states party. The Governor demanded that all the forces of the country
should be placed under his own immediate control; that Count Bossu, or
some other person nominated by himself, should be appointed to the
government of Friesland; that the people of Brabant and Flanders should
set themselves instantly to hunting, catching, and chastising all vagrant
heretics and preachers. He required, in particular, that Saint Aldegonde
and Theron, those most mischievous rebels, should be prohibited from
setting their foot in any city of the Netherlands. He insisted that the
community of Brussels should lay down their arms, and resume their
ordinary handicrafts. He demanded that the Prince of Orange should be
made to execute the Ghent treaty; to suppress the exercise of the
Reformed religion in Harlem, Schoonhoven, and other places; to withdraw
his armed vessels from their threatening stations, and to restore
Nieuport, unjustly detained by him. Should the Prince persist in his
obstinacy, Don John summoned them to take arms against him, and to
support their lawful Governor. He, moreover, required the immediate
restitution of Antwerp citadel, and the release of Treslong from prison.
Although, regarded from the Spanish point of view, such demands might
seem reasonable, it was also natural that their audacity should astonish
the estates. That the man who had violated so openly the Ghent treaty
should rebuke the Prince for his default--that the man who had tampered
with the German mercenaries until they were on the point of making
another Antwerp Fury, should now claim the command over them and all
other troops--that the man who had attempted to gain Antwerp citadel by a
base stratagem should now coolly demand its restoration, seemed to them
the perfection of insolence. The baffled conspirator boldly claimed the
prize which was to have rewarded a successful perfidy. At the very
moment when the Escovedo letters and the correspondence with the German
colonels had been laid before their eyes, it was a little too much that
the double-dealing bastard of the double-dealing Emperor should read them
a lecture upon sincerity. It was certain that the perplexed, and
outwitted warrior had placed himself at last in a very false position.
The Prince of Orange, with his usual adroitness, made the most of his
adversary's false moves. Don John had only succeeded in digging a
pitfall for himself. His stratagems against Namur and Antwerp had
produced him no fruit, saving the character, which his antagonist now
fully succeeded in establishing for him, of an unscrupulous and artful
schemer. This reputation was enhanced by the discovery of the
intercepted letters, and by the ingenuity and eagerness with which they
were turned to account against him by the Prince, by Saint Aldegonde, and
all the anti-Catholic party. The true key to his reluctance against
despatching the troops by land, the states had not obtained. They did
not dream of his romantic designs upon England, and were therefore
excusable in attributing a still deeper perfidy to his arrangements.
Even had he been sent to the Netherlands in the full possession of his
faculties, he would have been no match in political combinations for his
powerful antagonists. Hoodwinked and fettered, suspected by his master,
baffled, bewildered, irritated by his adversary, what could he do but
plunge from one difficulty to another and oscillate between extravagant
menace, and desponding concession, until his hopes and life were wasted
quite away. His instructions came from Philip through Perez, and that
most profound dissembler, as we have seen, systematically deceived the
Governor, with the view of eliciting treasonable matters, Philip wishing,
if possible, to obtain proofs of Don John's secret designs against his
own crown. Thus every letter from Spain was filled with false
information and with lying persuasions. No doubt the Governor considered
himself entitled to wear a crown, and meant to win it, if not in Africa,
then in England, or wherever fate might look propitiously upon him.
He was of the stuff of which crusaders and dynasty founders had been
made, at a somewhat earlier epoch. Who could have conquered the holy
sepulchre, or wrested a crown from its lawful wearer, whether in Italy,
Muscovy, the Orient, or in the British Ultima Thule, more bravely
than this imperial bastard, this valiant and romantic adventurer?
Unfortunately, he came a few centuries too late. The days when dynasties
were founded, and European thrones appropriated by a few foreign
freebooters, had passed, and had not yet returned. He had come to the
Netherlands desirous of smoothing over difficulties and of making a
peaceful termination to that rebellion a steppingstone to his English
throne. He was doomed to a profound disappointment, a broken heart, and
a premature grave, instead of the glittering baubles which he pursued.
Already he found himself bitterly deceived in his hopes. The obstinate
Netherlanders would not love him, notwithstanding the good wishes he had
manifested. They would not even love the King of Spain, notwithstanding
the blessings which his Majesty was declared to have heaped upon them.
On the contrary, they persisted in wasting their perverse affections
upon the pestilent Prince of Orange. That heretic was leading them to
destruction, for he was showing them the road to liberty, and nothing,
in the eyes of the Governor, could be more pitiable than to behold an
innocent people setting forth upon such a journey. "In truth," said he,
bitterly, in his memorable letter to his sister the Empress, "they are
willing to recognize neither God nor king. They pretend to liberty in
all things: so that 'tis a great pity to see how they are going on; to
see the impudence and disrespect with which they repay his Majesty for
the favors which he has shown them, and me for the labors, indignities,
and dangers which I have undergone for their sakes."
Nothing, indeed, in the Governor's opinion, could surpass the insolence
of the Netherlanders, save their ingratitude. That was the serpent's
tooth which was ever wounding the clement King and his indignant brother.
It seemed so bitter to meet with thanklessness, after seven years of Alva
and three of Requesens; after the labors of the Blood Council, the
massacres of Naarden, Zutphen, and Harlem, the siege of Leyden, and the
Fury of Antwerp. "Little profit there has been," said the Governor to
his sister, "or is like to be from all the good which we have done to
these bad people. In short, they love and obey in all things the most
perverse and heretic tyrant and rebel in the whole world, which is this
damned Prince of Orange, while, on the contrary, without fear of God or
shame before men, they abhor and dishonor the name and commandments of
their natural sovereign." Therefore, with a doubting spirit, and almost
with a broken heart, had the warrior shut himself up in Namur Castle,
to await the progress of events, and to escape from the snares of his
enemies. "God knows how much I desire to avoid extremities," said he,
"but I know not what to do with men who show themselves so obstinately
rebellious."
Thus pathetically Don John bewailed his fate. The nation had turned
from God, from Philip, from himself; yet he still sat in his castle,
determined to save them from destruction and his own hands from
bloodshed, if such an issue were yet possible. Nor was he entirely
deserted, for among the faithless a few were faithful still. Although
the people were in open revolt, there was still a handful of nobles
resolved to do their duty towards their God and King. "This little
band," said the Governor, "has accompanied me hither, like gentlemen and
chevaliers of honor." Brave Berlaymont and his four sons were loyal to
the last, but others of this limited number of gentlemen and chevaliers
of honor were already deserting him. As soon as the result of the
enterprise against Antwerp citadel was known, and the storm was gathering
most darkly over the royal cause, Aerschot and Havre were first to spread
their wings and flutter away in search of a more congenial atmosphere.
In September, the Duke was again as he had always professed himself to
be, with some important interval of exception--"the affectionate brother
and cordial friend of the Prince of Orange."
The letter addressed by Don John to the states upon the 7th of August,
had not yet been answered. Feeling, soon afterwards, more sensible of
his position, and perhaps less inflamed with indignation; he addressed
another communication to them, upon the 13th of the same month. In this
epistle he expressed an extreme desire for peace, and a hearty desire to
be relieved, if possible, from his most painful situation. He protested,
before God and man, that his intentions were most honest, and that he
abhorred war more than anything else in the world. He averred that, if
his person was as odious to them as it seemed, he was only too ready to
leave the land, as soon as the King should appoint his successor.
He reminded them that the question of peace or war lay not with himself,
but with them; and that the world would denounce as guilty those with
whom rested the responsibility. He concluded with an observation which,
in its humility, seemed sufficiently ironical, that if they had quite
finished the perusal of the despatches from Madrid to his address, which
they had intercepted, he should be thankful for an opportunity of reading
them himself. He expressed a hope, therefore, that they would be
forwarded to Namur.
This letter was answered at considerable length, upon the second day.
The states made their customary protestations of attachment to his
Majesty, their fidelity to the Catholic church, their determination to
maintain both the Ghent treaty and the Perpetual Edict. They denied all
responsibility for the present disastrous condition of the relations
between themselves and government, having disbanded nearly all their own
troops, while the Governor had been strengthening his forces up to the
period of his retreat into Namur. He protested, indeed, friendship and
a sincere desire for peace, but the intercepted letters of Escovedo and
his own had revealed to them the evil counsels to which he had been
listening, and the intrigues which he had been conducting. They left
it to his conscience whether they could reasonably believe, after the
perusal of these documents, that it was his intention to maintain the
Ghent treaty, or any treaty; and whether they were not justified in their
resort to the natural right of self-defence.
Don John was already fully aware of the desperate error which he had
committed. In seizing Namur and attempting Antwerp, he had thrown down
the gauntlet. Wishing peace, he had, in a panic of rage and anxiety;
declared and enacted war. The bridge was broken behind him, the ships
burned, a gulf opened, a return to peace rendered almost impossible.
Yet it is painful to observe the almost passionate longings which at
times seemed to possess him for accommodating the quarrel, together
with his absolute incapacity to appreciate his position. The Prince was
triumphant; the Governor in a trap. Moreover, it was a trap which he had
not only entered voluntarily, but which he had set himself; he had played
into the Prince's hands, and was frantic to see his adversary tranquilly
winning the game. It was almost melancholy to observe the gradation of
his tone from haughty indignation to dismal concession. In an elaborate
letter which he addressed "to the particular states, bishops,
councillors, and cities of the Netherlands," he protested as to the
innocence of his intentions, and complained bitterly of the calumnies
circulated to his discredit by the Prince of Orange. He denied any
intention of recalling the troops which he had dismissed, except in case
of absolute necessity: He affirmed that his Majesty sincerely desired
peace. He averred that the country was either against the King, against
the Catholic religion, against himself, or against all three together.
He bitterly asked what further concessions were required. Had he not
done all he had ever promised? Had he not discharged the Spaniards,
placed the castles in the hands of natives, restored the privileges,
submitted to insults and indecencies? Yet, in spite of all which had
passed, he declared his readiness to resign, if another prince or
princess of the blood more acceptable to them could be appointed. The
letter to the states was followed by a proposition for a cessation of
hostilities, and for the appointment of a commission to devise means for
faithfully executing the Ghent treaty. This proposition was renewed, a
few days later, together with an offer for an exchange of hostages.
It was not difficult for the estates to answer the letters of the
Governor. Indeed, there was but little lack of argument on either side
throughout this unhappy controversy. It is dismal to contemplate the
interminable exchange of protocols, declarations, demands, apostilles,
replications and rejoinders, which made up the substance of Don John's
administration. Never was chivalrous crusader so out of place. It was
not a soldier that was then required for Philip's exigency, but a scribe.
Instead of the famous sword of Lepanto, the "barbarous pen" of Hopperus
had been much more suitable for the work required. Scribbling Joachim
in a war-galley, yard-arm and yard-arm with the Turkish capitan pacha,
could have hardly felt less at ease than did the brilliant warrior thus
condemned to scrawl and dissemble. While marching from concession to
concession, he found the states conceiving daily more distrust, and
making daily deeper encroachments. Moreover, his deeds up to the time
when he seemed desirous to retrace his steps had certainly been, at the
least, equivocal. Therefore, it was natural for the estates, in reply to
the questions in his letter, to observe that he had indeed dismissed the
Spaniards, but that he had tampered with and retained the Germans; that
he had indeed placed the citadels in the hands of natives, but that he
had tried his best to wrest them away again; that he had indeed professed
anxiety for peace, but that his intercepted letters proved his
preparations for war. Already there were rumors of Spanish troops
returning in small detachments out of France. Already the Governor was
known to be enrolling fresh mercenaries to supply the place of those whom
he had unsuccessfully endeavoured to gain to his standard. As early as
the 26th of July, in fact, the Marquis d'Ayamonte in Milan, and Don Juan
de Idiaquez in Genoa, had received letters from Don John of Austria,
stating that, as the provinces had proved false to their engagements,
he would no longer be held by his own, and intimating his desire that
the veteran troops which had but so recently been dismissed from
Flanders, should forthwith return. Soon afterwards, Alexander Farnese,
Prince of Parma, received instructions from the King to superintend these
movements, and to carry the aid of his own already distinguished military
genius to his uncle in the Netherlands.
On the other hand, the states felt their strength daily more sensibly.
Guided, as usual, by Orange, they had already assumed a tone in their
correspondence which must have seemed often disloyal, and sometimes
positively insulting, to the Governor. They even answered his hints of
resignation in favor of some other prince of the blood, by expressing
their hopes that his successor, if a member of the royal house at all,
would at least be a legitimate one. This was a severe thrust at the
haughty chieftain, whose imperial airs rarely betrayed any consciousness
of Barbara Blomberg and the bend sinister on his shield. He was made
to understand, through the medium of Brabantine bluntness, that more
importance was attached to the marriage, ceremony in the Netherlands than
he seemed to imagine. The categorical demands made by the estates seemed
even more indigestible than such collateral affronts; for they had now
formally affirmed the views of Orange as to the constitutional government
of the provinces. In their letter of 26th August, they expressed their
willingness, notwithstanding the past delinquencies of the Governor,
to yield him their, confidence again; but at the same time; they
enumerated conditions which, with his education and views, could hardly
seem to him admissible. They required him to disband all the soldiers in
his service, to send the Germans instantly out of the country, to dismiss
every foreigner from office, whether civil or military, and to renounce
his secret league with the Duke of Guise. They insisted that he should
thenceforth govern only with the advice and consent of the State Council,
that he should execute that which should by a majority of votes be
ordained there, that neither measures nor despatches should be binding
or authentic unless drawn up at that board. These certainly were views
of administration which, even if consonant with a sound historical view
of the Netherland constitutions, hardly tallied with his monarch's
instructions, his own opinions, or the practice under Alva and Requesens,
but the country was still in a state of revolution, and the party of the
Prince was gaining the upper hand.