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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 27
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1577
By John Lothrop Motley
1855
1577 [CHAPTER II.]
Triumphal entrance of Don John into Brussels--Reverse of the picture
--Analysis of the secret correspondence of Don John and Escovedo
with Antonio Perez--Plots against the Governor's liberty--His
desponding language and gloomy anticipations--Recommendation of
severe measures--Position and principles of Orange and his family--
His private views on the question of peace and war--His toleration
to Catholics and Anabaptists censured by his friends--Death of
Viglius--New mission from the Governor to Orange--Details of the
Gertruydenberg conferences--Nature and results of these
negotiations--Papers exchanged between the envoys and Orange--Peter
Panis executed for heresy--Three parties in the Netherlands--
Dissimulation of Don John--His dread of capture.
As already narrated, the soldiery had retired definitely from the country
at the end of April, after which Don John made his triumphal entrance
into Brussels on the 1st of May. It was long since so festive a May-day
had gladdened the hearts of Brabant. So much holiday magnificence had
not been seen in the Netherlands for years. A solemn procession of
burghers, preceded by six thousand troops, and garnished by the free
companies of archers and musketeers, in their picturesque costumes,
escorted the young prince along the streets of the capital. Don John was
on horseback, wrapped in a long green cloak, riding between the Bishop of
Liege and the Papal nuncio. He passed beneath countless triumphal
arches. Banners waved before him, on which the battle of Lepanto, and
other striking scenes in his life, were emblazoned. Minstrels sang
verses, poets recited odes, rhetoric clubs enacted fantastic dramas in
his honor, as he rode along. Young virgins crowned him with laurels.
Fair women innumerable were clustered at every window, roof, and balcony,
their bright robes floating like summer clouds above him. "Softly from
those lovely clouds," says a gallant chronicler, "descended the gentle
rain of flowers." Garlands were strewed before his feet, laurelled
victory sat upon his brow. The same conventional enthusiasm and
decoration which had characterized the holiday marches of a thousand
conventional heroes were successfully produced. The proceedings began
with the church, and ended with the banquet, the day was propitious, the
populace pleased, and after a brilliant festival, Don John of Austria saw
himself Governor-General of the provinces.
Three days afterwards, the customary oaths, to be kept with the customary
conscientiousness, were rendered at the Town House, and for a brief
moment all seemed smiling and serene.
There was a reverse to the picture. In truth, no language can describe
the hatred which Don John entertained for the Netherlands and all the
inhabitants. He had come to the country only as a stepping-stone to the
English throne, and he never spoke, in his private letters, of the
provinces or the people but in terms of abhorrence. He was in a "Babylon
of disgust," in a "Hell," surrounded by "drunkards," "wineskins,"
"scoundrels," and the like. From the moment of his arrival he had
strained every nerve to retain the Spanish troops, and to send them away
by sea when it should be no longer feasible to keep them. Escovedo
shared in the sentiments and entered fully into the schemes of his chief.
The plot, the secret enterprise, was the great cause of the advent of
Don John in the uncongenial clime of Flanders. It had been, therefore,
highly important, in his estimation, to set, as soon as possible, about
the accomplishment of this important business. He accordingly entered
into correspondence with Antonio Perez, the King's most confidential
Secretary of State at that period. That the Governor was plotting no
treason is sufficiently obvious from the context of his letters: At the
same time, with the expansiveness of his character, when he was dealing
with one whom he deemed has close and trusty friend, he occasionally made
use of expressions which might be made to seem equivocal. This was still
more the case with poor Escovedo. Devoted to his master, and depending
most implicitly upon the honor of Perez, he indulged in language which
might be tortured into a still more suspicious shape when the devilish
arts of Perez and the universal distrust of Philip were tending steadily
to that end. For Perez--on the whole, the boldest, deepest, and most
unscrupulous villain in that pit of duplicity, the Spanish court--was
engaged at that moment with Philip, in a plot to draw from Don John and
Escovedo, by means of this correspondence, the proofs of a treason which
the King and minister both desired to find. The letters from Spain were
written with this view--those from Flanders were interpreted to that end.
Every confidential letter received by Perez was immediately laid by him
before the King, every letter which the artful demon wrote was filled
with hints as to the danger of the King's learning the existence of the
correspondence, and with promises of profound secrecy upon his own part,
and was then immediately placed in Philip's hands, to receive his
comments and criticisms, before being copied and despatched to the
Netherlands. The minister was playing a bold, murderous, and treacherous
game, and played it in a masterly manner. Escovedo was lured to his
destruction, Don John was made to fret his heart away, and Philip--more
deceived than all--was betrayed in what he considered his affections,
and made the mere tool of a man as false as himself and infinitely more
accomplished.
Almost immediately after the arrival of Don John in the Netherlands;
he had begun to express the greatest impatience for Escovedo, who had
not been able to accompany his master upon his journey, but without whose
assistance the Governor could accomplish none of his undertakings.
"Being a man, not an angel, I cannot do all which I have to do," said he
to Perez, "without a single person in whom I can confide." He protested
that he could do no more than he was then doing. He went to bed at
twelve and rose at seven, without having an hour in the day in which to
take his food regularly; in consequence of all which he had already had
three fevers. He was plunged into a world of distrust. Every man
suspected him, and he had himself no confidence in a single individual
throughout that whole Babylon of disgusts. He observed to Perez that he
was at liberty to show his letters to the King, or to read them in the
Council, as he meant always to speak the truth in whatever he should
write. He was sure that Perez would do all for the best; and there is
something touching in these expressions of an honest purpose towards
Philip, and of generous confidence in Perez, while the two were thus
artfully attempting to inveigle him into damaging revelations. The
Netherlanders certainly had small cause to love or trust their new
Governor, who very sincerely detested and suspected them, but Philip had
little reason to complain of his brother. "Tell me if my letters are
read in Council, and what his Majesty says about them," he wrote; "and,
above all, send money. I am driven to desperation at finding myself sold
to this people, utterly unprovided as I am, and knowing the slow manner
in which all affairs are conducted in Spain."
He informed the King that there was but one man in the Netherlands,
and that he was called the Prince of Orange. To him everything was
communicated, with him everything was negotiated, opinions expressed
by him were implicitly followed. The Governor vividly described the
misgivings with which he had placed himself in the power of the states by
going to Louvain, and the reluctance with which he had consented to send
away the troops. After this concession, he complained that the insolence
of the states had increased. "They think that they can do and undo
what they like, now that I am at their mercy," he wrote to Philip.
"Nevertheless, I do what you command without regarding that I am sold,
and that I am in great danger of losing, my liberty, a loss which I
dread more than anything in the world, for I wish to remain justified
before God and men." He expressed, however, no hopes as to the result.
Disrespect and rudeness could be pushed no further than it had already
gone, while the Prince of Orange, the actual governor of the country,
considered his own preservation dependent upon maintaining things as
they then were. Don John, therefore, advised the King steadily to make
preparations for "a rude and terrible war," which was not to be avoided,
save by a miracle, and which ought not--to find him in this unprepared
state. He protested that it was impossible to exaggerate the boldness
which the people felt at seeing him thus defenseless. "They say
publicly," he continued, "that your Majesty is not to be feared, not
being capable of carrying on a war, and having consumed and exhausted
every resource. One of the greatest injuries ever inflicted upon us was
by Marquis Havre, who, after his return from Spain, went about publishing
everywhere the poverty of the royal exchequer. This has emboldened them
to rise, for they believe that, whatever the disposition, there is no
strength to chastise them. They see a proof of the correctness of their
reasoning in the absence of new levies, and in the heavy arrearages due
to the old troops."
He protested that he desired, at least, to be equal to the enemy, without
asking, as others had usually done, for double the amount of the hostile
force. He gave a glance at the foreign complications of the Netherlands,
telling Philip that the estates were intriguing both with France and
England. The English envoy had expressed much uneasiness at the possible
departure of the Spanish troops from the Netherlands by sea, coupling it
with a probable attempt to liberate the Queen of Scots. Don John, who
had come to the provinces for no other purpose, and whose soul had been
full of that romantic scheme, of course stoutly denied and ridiculed the
idea. "Such notions," he had said to the envoy, "were subjects for
laughter. If the troops were removed from the country, it was to
strengthen his Majesty's force in the Levant." Mr. Rogers, much
comforted, had expressed the warm friendship which Elizabeth entertained
both for his Majesty and his Majesty's representative; protestations
which could hardly seem very sincere, after the series of attempts at the
Queen's life, undertaken so recently by his Majesty and his Majesty's
former representative. Nevertheless, Don John had responded with great
cordiality, had begged for Elizabeth's portrait, and had expressed the
intention, if affairs went as he hoped, to go privately to England for
the purpose of kissing her royal hand. Don John further informed the
King, upon the envoy's authority, that Elizabeth had refused assistance
to the estates, saying, if she stirred it would be to render aid to
Philip, especially if France should meddle in the matter. As to France,
the Governor advised Philip to hold out hopes to Alencon of espousing the
Infanta, but by no means ever to fulfil such a promise, as the Duke,
"besides being the shield of heretics, was unscrupulously addicted to
infamous vices."
A month later, Escovedo described the downfall of Don John's hopes and
his own in dismal language.--"You are aware," he wrote to Perez, "that a
throne--a chair with a canopy--is our intention and our appetite, and all
the rest is good for nothing. Having failed in our scheme, we are
desperate and like madmen. All is now weariness and death." Having
expressed himself in such desponding accents, he continued, a few days
afterwards, in the same lugubrious vein, "I am ready to hang myself,"
said he, "and I would have done it already, if it were not for keeping
myself as executioner for those who have done us so much harm. Ah, Senor
Antonio Perez!" he added, "what terrible pertinacity have those devils
shown in making us give up our plot. It seems as though Hell were opened
and had sent forth heaps of demons to oppose our schemes." After these
vigorous ejaculations he proceeded to inform his friend that the English
envoy and the estates, governed by the Prince of Orange, in whose power
were the much-coveted ships, had prevented the departure of the troops
by sea. "These devils complain of the expense," said he; "but we would
willingly swallow the cost if we could only get the ships." He then
described Don John as so cast down by his disappointment as to be fit
for nothing, and most desirous of quitting the Netherlands as soon as
possible. He had no disposition to govern these wineskins. Any one who
ruled in the provinces was obliged to do exactly what they ordered him to
do. Such rule was not to the taste of Don John. Without any comparison,
a woman would answer the purpose better than any man, and Escovedo
accordingly suggested the Empress Dowager, or Madame de Parma, or even
Madame de Lorraine. He further recommended that the Spanish troops, thus
forced to leave the Netherlands by land, should be employed against the
heretics in France. This would be a salve for the disgrace of removing
them. "It would be read in history," continued the Secretary, "that the
troops went to France in order to render assistance in a great religious
necessity; while, at the same time, they will be on hand to chastise
these drunkards, if necessary. To have the troops in France is almost as
well as to keep them here." He begged to be forgiven if he spoke
incoherently. 'T was no wonder that he should do so, for his reason had
been disordered by the blow which had been received. As for Don John, he
was dying to leave the country, and although the force was small for so
great a general, yet it would be well for him to lead these troops to
France in person. "It would sound well in history," said poor Escovedo,
who always thought of posterity, without ever dreaming that his own
private letters would be destined, after three centuries, to comment and
earnest investigation; "it would sound well in history, that Don John
went to restore, the French kingdom and to extirpate heretics, with six
thousand foot and two thousand horse. 'Tis a better employment, too,
than to govern such vile creatures as these."
If, however, all their plans should fail, the Secretary suggested to
his friend Antonio, that he must see and make courtiers of them. He
suggested that a strong administration might be formed in Spain, with Don
John, the Marquis de Los Velez, and the Duke of Sesa. "With such chiefs,
and with Anthony and John--[Viz., John of Escovedo and Antony Perez.]--
for acolytes," he was of opinion that much good work might be done, and
that Don John might become "the staff for his Majesty's old age." He
implored Perez, in the most urgent language, to procure Philip's consent
that his brother should leave the provinces. "Otherwise," said he, "we
shall see the destruction of the friend whom we so much love! He will
become seriously ill, and if so, good night to him! His body is too
delicate." Escovedo protested that he would rather die himself. "In the
catastrophe of Don John's death," he continued, "adieu the court, adieu
the world!" He would incontinently bury himself among the mountains of
San Sebastian, "preferring to dwell among wild animals than among
courtiers." Escovedo, accordingly, not urged by the most disinterested
motives certainly, but with as warm a friendship for his master as
princes usually inspire, proceeded to urge upon Perez the necessity of,
aiding the man who was able to help them. The first step was to get him
out of the Netherlands. That was his constant thought, by day and night.
As it would hardly be desirable for him to go alone, it seemed proper
that Escovedo should, upon some pretext, be first sent to Spain. Such a
pretext would be easily found, because, as Don John had accepted the
government, "it would be necessary for him to do all which the rascals
bade him." After these minute statements, the Secretary warned his
correspondent of the necessity of secrecy, adding that he especially
feared "all the court ladies, great and small, but that he in everything
confided entirely in Perez."
Nearly at the same time, Don John wrote to Perez in a similar tone.
"Ah, Senor Antonio," he exclaimed, "how certain is my disgrace and my
misfortune. Ruined is our enterprise, after so much labor and such
skilful management." He was to have commenced the work with the very
Spanish soldiers who were now to be sent off by land, and he had nothing
for it but to let them go, or to come to an open rupture with the states.
"The last, his conscience, his duty, and the time, alike forbade."
He was therefore obliged to submit to the ruin of his plans, and "could
think of nothing save to turn hermit, a condition in which a man's
labors, being spiritual, might not be entirely in vain." He was so
overwhelmed by the blow, he said, that he was constantly thinking of an
anchorite's life. That which he had been leading had become intolerable.
He was not fitted for the people of the Netherlands, nor they for him.
Rather than stay longer than was necessary in order to appoint his
successor, there was no resolution he might not take, even to leaving
everything and coming upon them when they least expected him, although he
were to receive a bloody punishment in consequence. He, too, suggested
the Empress, who had all the qualities which he lacked himself, or Madame
de Parma, or Madame de Lorraine, as each of them was more fit to govern
the provinces than he pretended to be. "The people," said he, plainly,
"are beginning to abhor me, and I abhor them already." He entreated
Perez to get him out of the country by fair means or foul, "per fas aut
per nefas." His friends ought to procure his liberation, if they
wished to save him from the sin of disobedience, and even of infamy.
He expressed the most unbounded confidence in the honor of his
correspondent, adding that if nothing else could procure his release,
the letter might be shown to the King. In general, the Governor was
always willing that Perez should make what changes he thought advisable
in the letters for his Majesty, altering or softening whatever seemed
crude or harsh, provided always the main point--that of procuring his
recal--were steadily kept in view, in this, said the Governor,
vehemently, my life, my honor, and my soul are all at stake; for as to
the two first, I shall forfeit them both certainly, and, in my desperate
condition, I shall run great risk of losing the last.
On the other hand, Perez was profuse in his professions of friendship
both to Don John and to Escovedo; dilating in all his letters upon the
difficulty of approaching the King upon the subject of his brother's
recal, but giving occasional information that an incidental hint had been
ventured which might not remain without effect. All these letters, were,
however, laid before Philip, for his approval, before being despatched,
and the whole subject thoroughly and perpetually discussed between them,
about which Perez pretended that he hardly dared breathe a syllable to
his Majesty. He had done what he could, he said, while reading, piece by
piece, to the King, during a fit of the gout, the official despatches
from the Netherlands, to insinuate such of the arguments used by the
Governor and Escovedo as might seem admissible, but it was soon obvious
that no impression could be made upon the royal mind. Perez did not urge
the matter, therefore, "because," said he, "if the King should suspect
that we had any other object than his interests, we should all be lost."
Every effort should be made by Don John and all his friends to secure his
Majesty's entire confidence, since by that course more progress would be
made in their secret plans, than by proceedings concerning which the
Governor wrote "with such fury and anxiety of heart." Perez warned his
correspondent, therefore, most solemnly, against the danger of "striking
the blow without hitting the mark," and tried to persuade him that his
best interests required him to protract his residence in the provinces
for a longer period. He informed Don John that his disappointment as to
the English scheme had met with the warmest sympathy of the King, who had
wished his brother success. "I have sold to him, at as high a price as
I could," said Perez, "the magnanimity with which your Highness had
sacrificed, on that occasion, a private object to his service."
The minister held the same language, when writing, in a still more
intimate and expansive style, to Escovedo. "We must avoid, by a
thousand--leagues, the possibility of the King's thinking us influenced
by private motives," he observed; "for we know the King and the delicacy
of these matters. The only way to gain the good-will of the man is
carefully to accommodate ourselves to his tastes, and to have the
appearance of being occupied solely with his interests." The letter,
like all the rest, being submitted to "the man" in question before being
sent, was underlined by him at this paragraph and furnished with the
following annotation: "but you must enlarge upon the passage which I have
marked--say more, even if you are obliged to copy the letter, in order
that we may see the nature of the reply."
In another letter to Escovedo, Perez enlarged upon the impropriety, the
impossibility of Don John's leaving the Netherlands at that time. The
King was so resolute upon that point, he said, that 'twas out of the
question to suggest the matter. "We should, by so doing, only lose all
credit with him in other things. You know what a terrible man he is; if
he should once suspect us of having a private end in view, we should
entirely miss our mark." Especially the secretary was made acquainted
with the enormous error which would be committed by Don John in leaving
his post.
Perez "had ventured into the water" upon the subject, he said, by
praising the Governor warmly to his Majesty. The King had responded
by a hearty eulogium, adding that the greatest comfort in having such a
brother was, that he might be where his Majesty could not be. Therefore,
it was out of the question for Don John to leave the provinces. The
greatest tact was necessary, urged Perez, in dealing with the King.
If he should once "suspect that we have a private purpose, we are lost,
and no Demosthenes or Cicero would be able to influence him afterwards."
Perez begged that his ardent attachment to Don John might be represented
in the strongest colors to that high personage, who was to be assured
that every effort would be made to place him at the head of affairs in
Spain, according to the suggestion of Escovedo. "It would never do,
however," he continued, "to let our man see that we desire it, for then
we should never succeed. The only way to conquer him is to make him
believe that things are going on as he wishes, not as his Highness may
desire, and that we have none of us any will but the King's." Upon this
passage the "terrible man" made a brief annotation:" this paragraph does
admirably," he said, adding, with characteristic tautology, "and what you
say in it is also excellent."
Therefore," continued the minister, "God forbid, Master Escovedo, that
you should come hither now; for we should all be lost. In the English
matter, I assure you that his Majesty was extremely anxious that the plan
should succeed, either through the Pope, or otherwise. That puts me in
mind," added Perez, "to say, body of God! Senor Escovedo! how the devil
came you to send that courier to Rome about the English plot without
giving me warning?" He then proceeded to state that the papal nuncio in
Spain had been much troubled in mind upon the subject, and had sent for
him. "I went," said Perez, "and after he, had closed the door, and
looked through the keyhole to see that there were no listeners, he
informed me that he had received intelligence from the Pope as to the
demands made by Don John upon his Holiness for bulls, briefs, and money
to assist him in his English scheme, and that eighty thousand ducats had
already been sent to him in consequence." Perez added that the nuncio
was very anxious to know how the affair should best be communicated to
the King, without prejudice to his Highness. He had given him the
requisite advice, he continued, and had himself subsequently told the
King that, no doubt, letters had been written by Don John to his Majesty,
communicating these negotiations at Rome, but that probably the
despatches had been forgotten. Thus, giving himself the appearance
of having smoothed the matter with the King, Perez concluded with a
practical suggestion of much importance--the necessity, namely, of
procuring the assassination of the Prince of Orange as soon as possible.
"Let it never be absent from your mind," said he, "that a good occasion
must be found for finishing Orange, since, besides the service which will
thus be rendered to our master, and to the states, it will be worth
something to ourselves.
No apology is necessary for laying a somewhat extensive analysis of this
secret correspondence before the reader. If there be any value in the
examples of history, certainly few chronicles can furnish a more
instructive moral. Here are a despotic king and his confidential
minister laying their heads together in one cabinet; the viceroy of the
most important provinces of the realm, with his secretary, deeply
conferring in another, not as to the manner of advancing the great
interests, moral or material, of the people over whom God has permitted
them to rule, but as to the best means of arranging conspiracies against
the throne and life of a neighboring sovereign, with the connivance and
subsidies of the Pope. In this scheme, and in this only, the high
conspirators are agreed. In every other respect, mutual suspicion and
profound deceit characterize the scene. The Governor is filled with
inexpressible loathing for the whole nation of "drunkards and wineskins"
who are at the very moment strewing flowers in his path, and deafening
his ears with shouts of welcome; the king, while expressing unbounded
confidence in the viceroy, is doing his utmost, through the agency of the
subtlest intriguer in the world, to inveigle him into confessions of
treasonable schemes, and the minister is filling reams of paper with
protestations of affection for the governor and secretary, with sneers at
the character of the King, and with instructions as to the best method of
deceiving him, and then laying the despatches before his Majesty for
correction and enlargement. To complete the picture, the monarch and his
minister are seen urging the necessity of murdering the foremost man of
the age upon the very dupe who, within a twelvemonth, was himself to be
assassinated by the self-same pair; while the arch-plotter who controls
the strings of all these complicated projects is equally false to King,
Governor, and Secretary, and is engaging all the others in these blind
and tortuous paths, for the accomplishment of his own secret and most
ignoble aims.
In reply to the letters of Perez, Don John constantly expressed the
satisfaction and comfort which he derived from them in the midst of his
annoyances. "He was very disconsolate," he said, "to be in that hell,
and to be obliged to remain in it," now that the English plot had fallen
to the ground, but he would nevertheless take patience, and wait for a
more favorable conjuncture.
Escovedo expressed the opinion, however, notwithstanding all the
suggestions of Perez, that the presence of Don John in the provinces had
become entirely superfluous. "An old woman with her distaff," suggested
the Secretary, "would be more appropriate; for there would be nothing to
do, if the states had their way, save to sign everything which they
should command. "If there should be war, his Highness would, of course,
not abandon his post; even if permitted to do so; but otherwise, nothing
could be gained by a prolonged residence. As to the scheme of
assassinating the Prince of Orange, Escovedo prayed Perez to believe him
incapable of negligence on the subject. "You know that the finishing of
Orange is very near my heart," wrote the poor dupe to the man by whom he
was himself so soon to be finished. "You may believe that I have never
forgotten it, and never will forget it, until it be done. Much, and very
much artifice is, however, necessary to accomplish this object. A proper
person to undertake a task fraught with such well-known danger, is hard
to find. Nevertheless, I will not withdraw my attention from the subject
till such a person be procured, and the deed be done."
A month later, Escovedo wrote that he was about to visit Spain. He
complained that he required rest in his old age, but that Perez could
judge how much rest he could get in such a condition of affairs. He was,
unfortunately, not aware, when he wrote, how soon his correspondent was
to give him a long repose. He said, too, that the pleasure of visiting
his home was counterbalanced by the necessity of travelling back to the
Netherlands; but he did not know that Perez was to spare him that
trouble, and to send him forth upon a much longer journey.
The Governor-General, had, in truth, not inspired the popular party or
its leader with confidence, nor did he place the least reliance upon
them. While at Louvain, he had complained that a conspiracy had been
formed against his life and liberty. Two French gentlemen, Bonnivet and
Bellangreville, had been arrested on suspicion of a conspiracy to secure
his person, and to carry him off a prisoner to Rochelle. Nothing came of
the examination which followed; the prisoners were released, and an
apology was sent by the states-general to the Duke of Alencon, as well
for the indignity which had been offered to two of his servants, as for
the suspicion which had been cast upon himself, Don John, however, was
not satisfied. He persisted in asserting the existence of the
conspiracy, and made no secret of his belief that the Prince of Orange
was acquainted with the arrangement. As may be supposed, nothing was
discovered in the course of the investigation to implicate that astute
politician. The Prince had indeed secretly recommended that the Governor
should be taken into custody on his first arrival, not for the purpose of
assassination or personal injury, but in order to extort better terms
from Philip, through the affection or respect which he might be supposed
to entertain for his brother. It will be remembered that unsuccessful
attempts had also been made to capture the Duke of Alva and the Commander
Requesens. Such achievements comported with the spirit of the age, and
although it is doubtful whether any well-concerted plot existed against
the liberty of the Governor, it is certain that he entertained no doubt
on the subject himself. In addition to these real or suspected designs,
there was an ever-present consciousness in the mind of Don John that the
enthusiasm which greeted his presence was hollow, that no real attachment
was felt for his person, that his fate was leading him into a false
position, that the hearts of the people were fixed upon another, and that
they were never to be won by himself. Instinctively he seemed to feel a
multitude of invisible threads twining into a snare around him, and the
courageous heart and the bounding strength became uneasily conscious of
the act in which they were to be held captive till life should be wasted
quite away.
The universal affection for the rebel Prince, and the hopeless
abandonment of the people to that deadliest of sins, the liberty of
conscience, were alike unquestionable. "They mean to remain free, sire,"
wrote Escovedo to Philip, "and to live as they please. To that end they
would be willing that the Turk should come to be master of the country.
By the road which they are travelling, however, it will be the Prince of
Orange--which comes to quite the same thing." At the same time, however,
it was hoped that something might be made of this liberty of conscience.
All were not equally sunk in the horrible superstition, and those who
were yet faithful to Church and King might be set against their besotted
brethren. Liberty of conscience might thus be turned to account. While
two great parties were "by the ears, and pulling out each other's hair,
all might perhaps be reduced together." His Majesty was warned,
nevertheless, to expect the worst, and to believe that the country could
only be cared with fire and blood. The position of the Governor was
painful and perplexing. "Don John," said Escovedo, "is thirty years old.
I promise your Majesty nothing, save that if he finds himself without
requisite assistance, he will take himself off when your Majesty is least
thinking of such a thing."
Nothing could be more melancholy than the tone of the Governor's letters.
He believed himself disliked, even in the midst of affectionate
demonstrations. He felt compelled to use moderate counsels, although he
considered moderation of no avail. He was chained to his post, even
though the post could, in his opinion, be more advantageously filled by
another. He would still endeavour to gain the affections of the people,
although he believed them hopelessly alienated. If patience would cure
the malady of the country, he professed himself capable of applying the
remedy, although the medicine had so far done but little good, and
although he had no very strong hopes as to its future effects. "Thus
far, however," said he, "I am but as one crying in the wilderness."
He took occasion to impress upon his Majesty, in very strong language,
the necessity of money. Secret agents, spies, and spies upon spies, were
more necessary than ever, and were very expensive portions of government
machinery. Never was money more wanted. Nothing could be more important
than, to attend faithfully to the financial suggestions of Escovedo, and
Don John, therefore, urged his Majesty, again and again, not to dishonor
their drafts. "Money is the gruel," said he, "with which we must cure
this sick man;" and he therefore prayed all those who wished well to his
efforts, to see that his Majesty did not fail him in this important
matter. Notwithstanding, however, the vigor of his efforts, and the
earnestness of his intentions, he gave but little hope to his Majesty of
any valuable fruit from the pacification just concluded. He saw the
Prince of Orange strengthening himself, "with great fury," in Holland
and Zealand; he knew that the Prince was backed by the Queen of England,
who, notwithstanding her promises to Philip and himself, had offered her
support to the rebels in case the proposed terms of peace were rejected
in Holland, and he felt that "nearly the whole people was at the devotion
of the Prince."
Don John felt more and more convinced, too, that a conspiracy was on foot
against his liberty. There were so many of the one party, and so few of
the other, that if he were once fairly "trussed," he affirmed that not a
man among the faithful would dare to budge an inch. He therefore
informed his Majesty that he was secretly meditating a retreat to some
place of security; judging very properly that, if he were still his own
master, he should be able to exert more influence over those who were
still well disposed, than if he should suffer himself to be taken
captive. A suppressed conviction that he could effect nothing, except
with his sword, pierced through all his more prudent reflections. He
maintained that, after all, there was no remedy for the body but to cut
off the diseased parts at once, and he therefore begged his Majesty for
the means of performing the operation handsomely. The general
expressions which he had previously used in favor of broths and mild
treatment hardly tallied with the severe amputation thus recommended.
There was, in truth, a constant struggle going on between the fierceness
of his inclinations and the shackles which had been imposed upon him.
He already felt entirely out of place, and although he scorned to fly
from his post so long as it seemed the post of danger, he was most
anxious that the King should grant him his dismissal, so soon as his
presence should no longer be imperiously required. He was sure that the
people would never believe in his Majesty's forgiveness until the man
concerning whom they entertained so much suspicion should be removed; for
they saw in him only the "thunderbolt of his Majesty's wrath." Orange
and England confirmed their suspicions, and sustained their malice.
Should he be compelled, against his will, to remain, he gave warning that
he might do something which would be matter of astonishment to everybody.
Meantime, the man in whose hands really lay the question of war and
peace, sat at Middelburg, watching the deep current of events as it
slowly flowed towards the precipice. The whole population of Holland and
Zealand hung on his words. In approaching the realms of William the
Silent, Don John felt that he had entered a charmed, circle, where the
talisman of his own illustrious name lost its power, where his valor was
paralyzed, and his sword rusted irrevocably in its sheath. "The people
here," he wrote, "are bewitched by the Prince of Orange. They love him,
they fear him, and wish to have him for their master. They inform him of
everything, and take no resolution without consulting him."
While William was thus directing and animating the whole nation with his
spirit, his immediate friends became more and more anxious concerning the
perils to which he was exposed. His mother, who had already seen her
youngest-born, Henry, her Adolphus, her chivalrous Louis, laid in their
bloody graves for the cause of conscience, was most solicitous for the
welfare of her "heart's-beloved lord and son," the Prince of Orange.
Nevertheless, the high-spirited old dame was even more alarmed at the
possibility of a peace in which that religious liberty for which so much
dear blood had been, poured forth should be inadequately secured.
"My heart longs for certain tidings from my lord," she wrote to William,
"for methinks the peace now in prospect will prove but an oppression for
soul and conscience. I trust my heart's dearly-beloved lord and son will
be supported by Divine grace to do nothing against God and his own soul's
salvation. 'Tis better to lose the temporal than the eternal." Thus
wrote the mother of William, and we can feel the sympathetic thrill which
such tender and lofty words awoke in his breast. His son, the ill-
starred Philip, now for ten years long a compulsory sojourner in Spain,
was not yet weaned from his affection for his noble parent, but sent
messages of affection to him whenever occasion offered, while a less
commendable proof of his filial affection he had lately afforded, at the
expense of the luckless captain of his Spanish guard. That officer
having dared in his presence to speak disrespectfully of his father, was
suddenly seized about the waist by the enraged young Count, hurled out of
the window, and killed stone-dead upon the spot. After this exhibition
of his natural feelings, the Spanish government thought it necessary to
take more subtle means to tame so turbulent a spirit. Unfortunately they
proved successful.
Count John of Nassau, too, was sorely pressed for money. Six hundred
thousand florins; at least, had been advanced by himself and brothers
to aid the cause of Netherland freedom. Louis and himself had,
unhesitatingly and immediately, turned into that sacred fund the hundred
thousand crowns which the King of France had presented them for their
personal use, for it was not the Prince of Orange alone who had
consecrated his wealth and his life to the cause, but the members of his
family, less immediately interested in the country, had thus furnished
what may well be called an enormous subsidy, and one most disproportioned
to their means. Not only had they given all the cash which they could
command by mortgaging their lands and rents, their plate and furniture,
but, in the words of Count John himself, "they had taken the chains and
jewels from the necks of their wives, their children, and their mother,
and had hawked them about, as if they had themselves been traders and
hucksters." And yet, even now, while stooping under this prodigious
debt, Count John asked not for present repayment. He only wrote to
the Prince to signify his extreme embarrassment, and to request some
obligation or recognition from the cities of Holland and Zealand, whence
hitherto no expression of gratitude or acknowledgment had proceeded.
The Prince consoled and assured, as best he could, his mother, son, wife,
and brother, even at the same moment that he comforted his people. He
also received at this time a second and more solemn embassy from Don
John. No sooner had the Governor exchanged oaths at Brussels, and been
acknowledged as the representative of his Majesty, than he hastened to
make another effort to conciliate the Prince. Don John saw before him
only a grand seignior of lofty birth and boundless influence, who had
placed himself towards the Crown in a false position, from which he might
even yet be rescued; for to sacrifice the whims of a reforming and
transitory religious fanaticism, which had spun itself for a moment about
so clear a brain, would, he thought, prove but a trifling task for so
experienced a politician as the Prince. William of Orange, on the
other hand, looked upon his young antagonist as the most brilliant
impersonation which had yet been seen of the foul spirit of persecution.
It will be necessary to follow, somewhat more in detail than is usually
desirable, the interchange of conversations, letters, and protocols, out
of which the brief but important administration of Don John was composed;
for it was exactly in such manifestations that the great fight was really
proceeding. Don John meant peace, wise William meant war, for he knew
that no other issue was possible. Peace, in reality, was war in its
worst shape. Peace would unchain every priestly tongue, and unsheath
every knightly sword in the fifteen provinces against little Holland and
Zealand. He had been able to bind all the provinces together by the
hastily forged chain of the Ghent treaty, and had done what he could to
strengthen that union by the principle of mutual religious respect.
By the arrival of Don John that work had been deranged. It had, however,
been impossible for the Prince thoroughly to infuse his own ideas on the
subject of toleration into the hearts of his nearest associates.
He could not hope to inspire his deadly enemies with a deeper sympathy.
Was he not himself the mark of obloquy among the Reformers, because of
his leniency to Catholics? Nay more, was not his intimate councillor,
the accomplished Saint Aldegonde, in despair because the Prince refused
to exclude the Anabaptists of Holland from the rights of citizenship?
At the very moment when William was straining every nerve to unite
warring sects, and to persuade men's hearts into a system by which their
consciences were to be laid open to God alone--at the moment when it was
most necessary for the very existence of the fatherland that Catholic and
Protestant should mingle their social and political relations, it was
indeed a bitter disappointment for him to see wise statesmen of his own
creed unable to rise to the idea of toleration. "The affair of the
Anabaptists," wrote Saint Aldegonde, "has been renewed. The Prince
objects to exclude them from citizenship. He answered me sharply, that
their yea was equal to our oath, and that we should not press this
matter, unless we were willing to confess that it was just for the
Papists to compel us to a divine service which was against our
conscience." It seems hardly credible that this sentence, containing
so sublime a tribute to the character of the Prince, should have been
indited as a bitter censure, and that, too, by an enlightened and
accomplished Protestant. "In short," continued Saint Aldegonde, with
increasing vexation, "I don't see how we can accomplish our wish in this
matter. The Prince has uttered reproaches to me that our clergy are
striving to obtain a mastery over consciences. He praised lately the
saying of a monk who was not long ago here, that our pot had not gone to
the fire as often as that of our antagonists, but that when the time came
it would be black enough. In short, the Prince fears that after a few
centuries the clerical tyranny on both sides will stand in this respect
on the same footing."
Early in the month of May, Doctor Leoninus and Caspar Schetz, Seigneur de
Grobbendonck, had been sent on a mission from the states-general to the
Prince of Orange. While their negotiations were still pending, four
special envoys from Don John arrived at Middelburg. To this commission
was informally adjoined Leoninus, who had succeeded to the general
position of Viglius. Viglius was dead. Since the memorable arrest of
the State Council, he had not appeared on the scene of public affairs.
The house-arrest, to which he had been compelled by a revolutionary
committee, had been indefinitely prolonged by a higher power, and after a
protracted illness he had noiselessly disappeared from the stage of life.
There had been few more learned doctors of both laws than he. There had
been few more adroit politicians, considered from his point of view. His
punning device was "Vita mortalium vigilia," and he acted accordingly,
but with a narrow interpretation. His life had indeed been a vigil,
but it must be confessed that the vigils had been for Viglius.
[Bor, x. 812. Meteren, vi. 120.--Another motto of his was, "En
groot Jurist een booser Christ;" that is to say, A good lawyer is a
bad Christian.--Unfortunately his own character did not give the lie
satisfactorily to the device.]
The weatherbeaten Palinurus, as he loved to call himself, had conducted
his own argosy so warily that he had saved his whole cargo; and perished
in port at last, while others, not sailing by his compass, were still
tossed by the tempest.
The agents of Don John were the Duke of Aerschot, the Seigneur de
Hierges, Seigneur de Willerval, and Doctor Meetkercke, accompanied by
Doctor Andrew Gaill, one of the imperial commissioners. The two envoys
from the states-general, Leoninus and Schetz, being present at
Gertruydenberg were added to the deputation. An important conference
took place, the details of which have been somewhat minutely preserved.
The Prince of Orange, accompanied by Saint Aldegonde and four other
councillors, encountered the seven champions from Brussels in a long
debate, which was more like a passage of arms or a trial of skill than a
friendly colloquy with a pacific result in prospect; for it must be
remembered that the Prince of Orange did not mean peace. He had devised
the Pacification of Ghent as a union of the other provinces with Holland
and Zealand, against Philip. He did not intend that it should be
converted into a union of the other provinces with Philip, against
Holland and Zealand.