enthusiasm. It could not be denied that he was a handsome and gallant
young prince; but his arrogance was so intolerable as to disgust even
those most disposed to pay homage to Margaret's son. He kept himself
mainly in haughty retirement, dined habitually alone in his own
apartments, and scarcely honored any of the gentlemen of the Netherlands
with his notice. Even Egmont, to whose care he had been especially
recommended by Philip, was slighted. If, occasionally, he honored one
or two of the seigniors with an invitation to his table, he sat alone
in solemn state at the head of the board, while the guests, to whom he
scarcely vouchsafed a syllable, were placed on stools without backs,
below the salt. Such insolence, it may be supposed, was sufficiently
galling to men of the proud character, but somewhat reckless demeanor,
which distinguished the Netherland aristocracy. After a short time they
held themselves aloof, thinking it sufficient to endure such airs from
Philip. The Duchess at first encouraged the young Prince in his
haughtiness, but soon became sad, as she witnessed its effects. It was
the universal opinion that the young Prince was a mere compound of pride
and emptiness. "There is nothing at all in the man," said Chantonnay.
Certainly the expression was not a fortunate one. Time was to show
that there was more in the man than in all the governors despatched
successively by Philip to the Netherlands; but the proof was to be
deferred to a later epoch. Meantime, his mother was occupied and
exceedingly perplexed with his approaching nuptials. He had been
affianced early in the year to the Princess Donna Maria of Portugal.
It was found necessary, therefore, to send a fleet of several vessels to
Lisbon, to fetch the bride to the Netherlands, the wedding being
appointed to take place in Brussels. This expense alone was
considerable, and the preparations for banquets, jousts, and other
festivities, were likewise undertaken on so magnificent a scale that
the Duke, her husband, was offended at Margaret's extravagance.
The people, by whom she was not beloved, commented bitterly on the
prodigalities which they were witnessing in a period of dearth and
trouble. Many of the nobles mocked at her perplexity. To crown the
whole, the young Prince was so obliging as to express the hope, in his
mother's hearing, that the bridal fleet, then on its way from Portugal,
might sink with all it contained, to the bottom of the sea.
The poor Duchess was infinitely chagrined by all these circumstances.
The "insane and outrageous expenses" in which the nuptials had involved
her, the rebukes of her husband, the sneers of the seigniors, the
undutiful epigrams of her son, the ridicule of the people, affected her
spirits to such a degree, harassed as she was with grave matters of
state, that she kept her rooms for days together, weeping, hour after
hour, in the most piteous manner. Her distress was the town talk;
nevertheless, the fleet arrived in the autumn, and brought the youthful
Maria to the provinces. This young lady, if the faithful historiographer
of the Farnese house is to be credited, was the paragon of princesses.
[This princess, in her teens, might already exclaim, with the
venerable Faustus:
"Habe nun Philosophie
Juristerei and Medicin
Und leider ach: Theologie
Durch studirt mit heissem Bemuhen," etc.
The panegyrists of royal houses in the sixteenth century were not
accustomed to do their work by halves.--Strada.]
She was the daughter of Prince Edward, and granddaughter of John the
Third. She was young and beautiful; she could talk both Latin and Greek,
besides being well versed in philosophy, mathematics and theology. She
had the scriptures at her tongue's end, both the old dispensation and the
new, and could quote from the fathers with the promptness of a bishop.
She was so strictly orthodox that, on being compelled by stress of
weather to land in England, she declined all communication with Queen
Elizabeth, on account of her heresy. She was so eminently chaste that
she could neither read the sonnets of Petrarch, nor lean on the arm of a
gentleman. Her delicacy upon such points was, indeed, carried to such
excess, that upon one occasion when the ship which was bringing her to
the Netherlands was discovered to be burning, she rebuked a rude fellow
who came forward to save her life, assuring him that there was less
contamination in the touch of fire than in that of man. Fortunately,
the flames were extinguished, and the Phoenix of Portugal was permitted
to descend, unburned, upon the bleak shores of Flanders.
The occasion, notwithstanding the recent tears of the Duchess, and the
arrogance of the Prince, was the signal for much festivity among the
courtiers of Brussels. It was also the epoch from which movements of a
secret and important character were to be dated. The chevaliers of the
Fleece were assembled, and Viglius pronounced before them one of his most
classical orations. He had a good deal to say concerning the private
adventures of Saint Andrew, patron of the Order, and went into some
details of a conversation which that venerated personage had once held
with the proconsul Aegeas. The moral which he deduced from his narrative
was the necessity of union among the magnates for the maintenance of the
Catholic faith; the nobility and the Church being the two columns upon
which the whole social fabric reposed. It is to be feared that the
President became rather prosy upon the occasion. Perhaps his homily,
like those of the fictitious Archbishop of Granada, began to smack of
the apoplexy from which he had so recently escaped. Perhaps, the meeting
being one of hilarity, the younger nobles became restive under the
infliction of a very long and very solemn harangue. At any rate, as the
meeting broke up, there was a good dial of jesting on the subject. De
Hammes, commonly called "Toison d'Or," councillor and king-at-arms of the
Order, said that the President had been seeing visions and talking with
Saint Andrew in a dream. Marquis Berghen asked for the source whence
he had derived such intimate acquaintance with the ideas of the Saint.
The President took these remarks rather testily, and, from trifling,
the company became soon earnestly engaged in a warm discussion of the
agitating topics of the day. It soon became evident to Viglius that De
Hammer and others of his comrades had been dealing with dangerous things.
He began shrewdly to suspect that the popular heresy was rapidly
extending into higher regions; but it was not the President alone who
discovered how widely the contamination was spreading. The meeting,
the accidental small talk, which had passed so swiftly from gaiety to
gravity, the rapid exchange of ideas, and the free-masonry by which
intelligence upon forbidden topics had been mutually conveyed, became
events of historical importance. Interviews between nobles, who, in the
course of the festivities produced by the Montigny and Parma marriages,
had discovered that they entertained a secret similarity of sentiment
upon vital questions, became of frequent occurrence. The result to which
such conferences led will be narrated in the following chapter.
Meantime, upon the 11th November, 1565, the marriage of Prince Alexander
and Donna Maria was celebrated; with great solemnity, by the Archbishop
of Cambray, in the chapel of the court at Brussels. On the following
Sunday the wedding banquet was held in the great hall, where, ten years
previously, the memorable abdication of the bridegroom's imperial
grandfather had taken place.
The walls were again hung with the magnificent tapestry of Gideon, while
the Knights of the Fleece, with all the other grandees of the land, were
assembled to grace the spectacle. The King was represented by his envoy
in England, Don Guzman de Silva, who came to Brussels for the occasion,
and who had been selected for this duty because, according to Armenteros,
"he was endowed, beside his prudence, with so much witty gracefulness
with ladies in matters of pastime and entertainment." Early in the month
of December, a famous tournament was held in the great market-place of
Brussels, the Duke of Parma, the Duke of Aerschot, and Count Egmont being
judges of the jousts. Count Mansfeld was the challenger, assisted by his
son Charles, celebrated among the gentry of the land for his dexterity in
such sports. To Count Charles was awarded upon this occasion the silver
cup from the lady of the lists. Count Bossu received the prize for
breaking best his lances; the Seigneur de Beauvoir for the most splendid
entrance; Count Louis, of Nassau, for having borne himself most gallantly
in the melee. On the same evening the nobles, together with the bridal
pair, were entertained at a splendid supper, given by the city of
Brussels in the magnificent Hotel de Ville. On this occasion the prizes
gained at the tournament were distributed, amid the applause and hilarity
of all the revellers.
Thus, with banquet, tourney, and merry marriage bells, with gaiety
gilding the surface of society, while a deadly hatred to the inquisition
was eating into the heart of the nation, and while the fires of civil war
were already kindling, of which no living man was destined to witness the
extinction, ended the year 1565.
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