Peace deliberations in Spain--Unpopularity of the project--
Disaffection of the courtiers--Complaints against Spinola--
Conference of the Catholic party--Position of Henry IV. towards the
republic--State of France Further peace negotiations--Desire of King
James of England for the restoration of the States to Spain--Arrival
of the French commissioners President Jeannin before the States-
General--Dangers of a truce with Spain--Dutch legation to England--
Arrival of Lewis Verreyken at the Hague with Philip's ratification--
Rejection of the Spanish treaty--Withdrawal of the Dutch fleet from
the Peninsula--The peace project denounced by the party of Prince
Maurice--Opposition of Maurice to the plans of Barneveld--Amended
ratification presented to the States-General--Discussion of the
conditions--Determination to conclude a peace--Indian trade--
Exploits of Admiral Matelieff in the Malay peninsula--He lays siege
to Malacca--Victory over the Spanish fleet--Endeavour to open a
trade with China--Return of Matelieff to Holland.
The Marquis Spinola had informed the Spanish Government that if 300,000
dollars a month could be furnished, the war might be continued, but that
otherwise it would be better to treat upon the basis of 'uti possidetis,'
and according to the terms proposed by the States-General. He had further
intimated his opinion that, instead of waiting for the king's consent, it
more comported with the king's dignity for the archdukes to enter into
negotiations, to make a preliminary and brief armistice with the enemy,
and then to solicit the royal approval of what had been done.
In reply, the king--that is to say the man who thought, wrote, and signed
in behalf of the king--had plaintively observed that among evils the
vulgar rule was to submit to the least. Although, therefore, to grant to
the Netherland rebels not only peace and liberty, but to concede to them
whatever they had obtained by violence and the most abominable outrages,
was the worst possible example to all princes; yet as the enormous sum
necessary for carrying on the war was not to be had, even by attempting
to scrape it together from every corner of the earth, he agreed with the
opinion of the archdukes that it was better to put an end to this eternal
and exhausting war by peace or truce, even under severe conditions. That
the business had thus far proceeded without consulting him, was publicly
known, and he expressed approval of the present movements towards a peace
or a long truce, assuring Spinola that such a result would be as grateful
to him as if the war had been brought to a successful issue.
When the Marquis sent formal notice of the armistice to Spain there were
many complaints at court. Men said that the measure was beneath the
king's dignity, and contrary to his interests. It was a cessation of arms
under iniquitous conditions, accorded to a people formerly subject and
now rebellious. Such a truce was more fatal than any conflict, than any
amount of slaughter. During this long and dreadful war, the king had
suffered no disaster so terrible as this, and the courtiers now declared
openly that the archduke was the cause of the royal and national
humiliation. Having no children, nor hope of any, he desired only to live
in tranquillity and selfish indulgence, like the indolent priest that he
was, not caring what detriment or dishonour might accrue to the crown
after his life was over.
Thus murmured the parasites and the plunderers within the dominions of
the do-nothing Philip, denouncing the first serious effort to put an end
to a war which the laws of nature had proved to be hopeless on the part
of Spain.
Spinola too, who had spent millions of his own money, who had plunged
himself into debt and discredit, while attempting to sustain the
financial reputation of the king, who had by his brilliant services in
the field revived the ancient glory of the Spanish arms, and who now saw
himself exposed with empty coffers to a vast mutiny, which was likely to
make his future movements as paralytic as those of his immediate
predecessors--Spinola, already hated because he was an Italian, because
he was of a mercantile family, and because he had been successful, was
now as much the object of contumely with the courtiers as with the
archduke himself.
The splendid victory of Heemskerk had struck the government with dismay
and diffused a panic along the coast. The mercantile fleets, destined for
either India, dared not venture forth so long as the terrible Dutch
cruisers, which had just annihilated a splendid Spanish fleet, commanded
by a veteran of Lepanto, and under the very guns of Gibraltar, were
supposed to be hovering off the Peninsula. Very naturally, therefore,
there was discontent in Spain that the cessation of hostilities had not
originally been arranged for sea as well as land, and men said openly at
court that Spinola ought to have his head cut off for agreeing to such an
armistice. Quite as reasonably, however, it was now felt to be necessary
to effect as soon as possible the recal of this very inconvenient Dutch
fleet from the coast of Spain.
The complaints were so incessant against Spinola that it was determined
to send Don Diego d'Ybarra to Brussels, charged with a general
superintendence of the royal interests in the present confused condition
of affairs. He was especially instructed to convey to Spinola the most
vehement reproaches in regard to the terms of the armistice, and to
insist upon the cessation of naval hostilities, and the withdrawal of the
cruisers.
Spinola, on his part, was exceedingly irritated that the arrangements
which he had so carefully made with the archduke at Brussels should be so
contumaciously assailed, and even disavowed, at Madrid. He was especially
irritated that Ybarra should now be sent as his censor and overseer, and
that Fuentes should have received orders to levy seven thousand troops in
the Milanese for Flanders, the arrival of which reinforcements would
excite suspicion, and probably break off negotiations.
He accordingly sent his private secretary Biraga, posthaste to Spain with
two letters. In number one he implored his Majesty that Ybarra might not
be sent to Brussels. If this request were granted, number two was to be
burned. Otherwise, number two was to be delivered, and it contained a
request to be relieved from all further employment in the king's service.
The marquis was already feeling the same effects of success as had been
experienced by Alexander Farnese, Don John of Austria, and other
strenuous maintainers of the royal authority in Flanders. He was railed
against, suspected, spied upon, put under guardianship, according to the
good old traditions of the Spanish court. Public disgrace or secret
poison might well be expected by him, as the natural guerdons of his
eminent deeds.
Biraga also took with him the draught of the form in which the king's
consent to the armistice and pending negotiations was desired, and he was
particularly directed to urge that not one letter or comma should be
altered, in order that no pretext might be afforded to the suspicious
Netherlanders for a rupture.
In private letters to his own superintendent Strata, to Don John of
Idiaquez, to the Duke of Lerma, and to Stephen Ybarra, Spinola enlarged
upon the indignity about to be offered him, remonstrated vehemently
against the wrong and stupidity of the proposed policy, and expressed his
reliance upon the efforts of these friends of his to prevent its
consummation. He intimated to Idiaquez that a new deliberation would be
necessary to effect the withdrawal of the Dutch fleet--a condition not
inserted in the original armistice--but that within the three months
allowed for the royal ratification there would be time enough to procure
the consent of the States to that measure. If the king really desired to
continue the war, he had but to alter a single comma in the draught, and,
out of that comma, the stadholder's party would be certain to manufacture
for him as long a war as he could possibly wish.
In a subsequent letter to the king, Spinola observed that he was well
aware of the indignation created in Spain by the cessation of land
hostilities without the recal of the fleet, but that nevertheless John
Neyen had confidentially represented to the archdukes the royal assent as
almost certain. As to the mission of Ybarra, the marquis reminded his
master that the responsibility and general superintendence of the
negotiations had been almost forced upon him. Certainly he had not
solicited them. If another agent were now interposed, it was an
advertisement to the world that the business had been badly managed. If
the king wished a rupture, he had but to lift his finger or his pen; but
to appoint another commissioner was an unfit reward for his faithful
service. He was in the king's hands. If his reputation were now to be
destroyed, it was all over with him and his affairs. The man, whom
mortals had once believed incapable, would be esteemed incapable until
the end of his days.
It was too late to prevent the mission of Ybarra, who, immediately after
his arrival in Brussels, began to urge in the king's name that the words
in which the provinces had been declared free by the archdukes might be
expunged. What could be more childish than such diplomacy? What greater
proof could be given of the incapacity of the Spanish court to learn the
lesson which forty years had been teaching? Spinola again wrote a most
earnest remonstrance to the king, assuring him that this was simply to
break off the negotiation. It was ridiculous to suppose, he said, that
concessions already made by the archdukes, ratification of which on the
part of the king had been guaranteed, could now be annulled. Those
acquainted with Netherland obstinacy knew better. The very possibility of
the king's refusal excited the scorn of the States-General.
Ybarra went about, too, prating to the archdukes and to others of
supplies to be sent from Spain sufficient to carry on the war for many
years, and of fresh troops to be forwarded immediately by Fuentes. As
four millions of crowns a year were known to be required for any
tolerable campaigning, such empty vaunts as these were preposterous. The
king knew full well, said Spinola, and had admitted the fact in his
letters, that this enormous sum could not be furnished. Moreover, the war
cost the Netherlanders far less in proportion. They had river
transportation, by which they effected as much in two days as the
Catholic army could do in a fortnight, so that every siege was managed
with far greater rapidity and less cost by the rebels than by their
opponents. As to sending troops from Milan, he had already stated that
their arrival would have a fatal effect. The minds of the people were
full of suspicion. Every passing rumour excited a prodigious sensation,
and the war party was already gaining the upper hand. Spinola warned the
king, in the most solemn manner, that if the golden opportunity were now
neglected the war would be eternal. This, he said, was more certain than
certain. For himself, he had strained every nerve, and would continue to
do his best in the interest of peace. If calamity must come, he at least
would be held blameless.
Such vehement remonstrances from so eminent a source produced the needful
effect. Royal letters were immediately sent, placing full powers of
treating in the hands of the marquis, and sending him a ratification of
the archduke's agreement. Government moreover expressed boundless
confidence in Spinola, and deprecated the idea that Ybarra's mission was
in derogation of his authority. He had been sent, it was stated, only to
procure that indispensable preliminary to negotiations, the withdrawal of
the Dutch fleet, but as this had now been granted, Ybarra was already
recalled.
Spinola now determined to send the swift and sure-footed friar, who had
made himself so useful in opening the path to discussion, on a secret
mission to Spain. Ybarra objected; especially because it would be
necessary for him to go through France, where he would be closely
questioned by the king. It would be equally dangerous, he said, for the
Franciscan in that case to tell the truth or to conceal it. But Spinola
replied that a poor monk like him could steal through France
undiscovered. Moreover, he should be disguised as a footman, travelling
in the service of Aurelio Spinola, a relative of the marquis, then
proceeding to Madrid. Even should Henry hear of his presence and send for
him, was it to be supposed that so practised a hand would not easily
parry the strokes of the French king--accomplished fencer as he
undoubtedly was? After stealing into and out of Holland as he had so
recently done, there was nothing that might not be expected of him. So
the wily friar put on the Spinola livery, and, without impediment,
accompanied Don Aurelio to Madrid.
Meantime, the French commissioners--Pierre Jeannin, Buzanval, regular
resident at the Hague, and De Russy, who was destined to succeed that
diplomatist--had arrived in Holland.
The great drama of negotiation, which was now to follow the forty years'
tragedy, involved the interests and absorbed the attention of the great
Christian powers. Although serious enough in its substance and its
probable consequences, its aspect was that of a solemn comedy. There was
a secret disposition on the part of each leading personage--with a few
exceptions--to make dupes of all the rest. Perhaps this was a necessary
result of statesmanship, as it had usually been taught at that epoch.
Paul V., who had succeeded Clement VIII. in 1605, with the brief
interlude of the twenty-six days of Leo XI.'s pontificate, was zealous,
as might be supposed, to check the dangerous growth of the pestilential
little republic of the north. His diplomatic agents, Millino at Madrid,
Barberini at Paris, and the accomplished Bentivoglio, who had just been
appointed to the nunciatura at Brussels, were indefatigable in their
efforts to suppress the heresy and the insolent liberty of which the
upstart commonwealth was the embodiment.
Especially Barberini exerted all the powers at his command to bring about
a good understanding between the kings of France and Spain. He pictured
to Henry, in darkest colours, the blight that would come over religion
and civilization if the progress of the rebellious Netherlands could not
be arrested. The United Provinces were becoming dangerous, if they
remained free, not only to the French kingdom, but to the very existence
of monarchy throughout the world.
No potentate was ever more interested, so it was urged, than Henry IV. to
bring down the pride of the Dutch rebels. There was always sympathy of
thought and action between the Huguenots of France and their
co-religionists in Holland. They were all believers alike in Calvinism--a
sect inimical not less to temporal monarchies than to the sovereign
primacy of the Church--and the tendency and purposes of the French rebels
were already sufficiently manifest in their efforts, by means of the
so-called cities of security, to erect a state within a state; to
introduce, in short, a Dutch republic into France.
A sovereign remedy for the disease of liberty, now threatening to become
epidemic in Europe, would be found in a marriage between the second son
of the King of Spain and a daughter of France. As the archdukes were
childless, it might be easily arranged that this youthful couple should
succeed them--the result of which would of course be the reduction of all
the Netherlands to their ancient obedience.
It has already been seen, and will become still farther apparent, that
nostrums like this were to be recommended in other directions. Meantime,
Jeannin and his colleagues made their appearance at the Hague.
If there were a living politician in Europe capable of dealing with
Barneveld on even terms, it was no doubt President Jeannin. An ancient
Leaguer, an especial adherent of the Duke of Mayenne, he had been deep in
all the various plots and counter-plots of the Guises, and often employed
by the extinct confederacy in various important intrigues. Being secretly
sent to Spain to solicit help for the League after the disasters of Ivry
and Arques, he found Philip II. so sincerely imbued with the notion that
France was a mere province of Spain, and so entirely bent upon securing
the heritage of the Infanta to that large property, as to convince him
that the maintenance of the Roman religion was with that monarch only a
secondary condition. Aid and assistance for the confederacy were
difficult of attainment, unless coupled with the guarantee of the
Infanta's rights to reign in France.
The Guise faction being inspired solely by religious motives of the
loftiest kind, were naturally dissatisfied with the lukewarmness of his
most Catholic Majesty. When therefore the discomfited Mayenne
subsequently concluded his bargain with the conqueror of Ivry, it was a
matter of course that Jeannin should also make his peace with the
successful Huguenot, now become eldest son of the Church. He was very
soon taken into especial favour by Henry, who recognised his sagacity,
and who knew his hands to be far cleaner than those of the more exalted
Leaguers with whom he had dealt. The "good old fellow," as Henry
familiarly called him, had not filled his pockets either in serving or
when deserting the League. Placed in control of the exchequer at a later
period, he was never accused of robbery or peculation. He was a
hard-working, not overpaid, very intelligent public functionary. He was
made president of the parliament, or supreme tribunal of Burgundy, and
minister of state, and was recognised as one of the ablest jurists and
most skilful politicians in the kingdom. An elderly man, with a tall,
serene forehead, a large dark eye and a long grey beard, he presented an
image of vast wisdom and reverend probity. He possessed--an especial
treasure for a statesman in that plotting age--a singularly honest
visage. Never was that face more guileless, never was his heart more
completely worn upon his sleeve, than when he was harbouring the deepest
or most dangerous designs. Such was the "good fellow," whom that skilful
reader of men, Henry of France, had sent to represent his interests and
his opinions at the approaching conferences. What were those opinions?
Paul V. and his legates Barberini, Millino, and the rest, were well
enough aware of the secret strings of the king's policy, and knew how to
touch them with skill. Of all things past, Henry perhaps most regretted
that not he, but the last and most wretched of the Valois line, was
sovereign of France when the States-General came to Paris with that offer
of sovereignty which had been so contumaciously refused.
If the object were attainable, the ex-chief of the Huguenots still meant
to be king of the Netherlands as sincerely as Philip II. had ever
intended to be monarch of France. But Henry was too accurate a calculator
of chances, and had bustled too much in the world of realities, to
exhaust his strength in striving, year after year, for a manifest
impossibility. The enthusiast, who had passed away at last from the
dreams of the Escorial into the land of shadows, had spent a lifetime,
and melted the wealth of an empire; but universal monarchy had never come
forth from his crucible. The French king, although possessed likewise of
an almost boundless faculty for ambitious visions, was capable of
distinguishing cloud-land from substantial empire. Jeannin, as his envoy,
would at any rate not reveal his master's secret aspirations to those
with whom he came to deal, as openly as Philip had once unveiled himself
to Jeannin.
There could be no doubt that peace at this epoch was the real interest of
France. That kingdom was beginning to flourish again, owing to the very
considerable administrative genius of Bethune, an accomplished financier
according to the lights of the age, and still more by reason of the
general impoverishment of the great feudal houses and of the clergy. The
result of the almost interminable series of civil and religious wars had
been to cause a general redistribution of property. Capital was mainly in
the hands of the middle and lower classes, and the consequence of this
general circulation of wealth through all the channels of society was
precisely what might have been expected, an increase of enterprise and of
productive industry in various branches. Although the financial wisdom of
the age was doing its best to impede commerce, to prevent the influx of
foreign wares, to prohibit the outflow of specie--in obedience to the
universal superstition, which was destined to survive so many centuries,
that gold and silver alone constituted wealth--while, at the same time,
in deference to the idiotic principle of sumptuary legislation, it was
vigorously opposing mulberry culture, silk manufactures, and other
creations of luxury, which, in spite of the hostility of government
sages, were destined from that time forward to become better mines of
wealth for the kingdom than the Indies had been for Spain, yet on the
whole the arts of peace were in the ascendant in France.
The king, although an unscrupulous, self-seeking despot and the coarsest
of voluptuaries, was at least a man of genius. He had also too much
shrewd mother-wit to pursue such schemes as experience had shown to
possess no reality. The talisman "Espoir," emblazoned on his shield, had
led him to so much that it was natural for him at times to think all
things possible.
But he knew how to renounce as well as how to dare. He had abandoned his
hope to be declared Prince of Wales and successor to the English crown,
which he had cherished for a brief period, at the epoch of the Essex
conspiracy; he had forgotten his magnificent dream of placing the crown
of the holy German empire upon his head, and if he still secretly
resolved to annex the Netherlands to his realms, and to destroy his
excellent ally, the usurping, rebellious, and heretic Dutch republic, he
had craft enough to work towards his aim in the dark, and the common
sense to know that by now throwing down the mask he would be for ever
baffled of his purpose.
The history of France, during the last three-quarters of a century, had
made almost every Frenchman, old enough to bear arms, an accomplished
soldier. Henry boasted that the kingdom could put three hundred thousand
veterans into the field--a high figure, when it is recollected that its
population certainly did not exceed fifteen millions. No man however was
better aware than he, that in spite, of the apparent pacification of
parties, the three hundred thousand would not be all on one side, even in
case of a foreign war. There were at least four thousand great feudal
lords as faithful to the Huguenot faith and cause as he had been false to
both; many of them still wealthy, notwithstanding the general ruin which
had swept over the high nobility, and all of them with vast influence and
a splendid following, both among the lesser gentry and the men of lower
rank.
Although he kept a Jesuit priest ever at his elbow, and did his best to
persuade the world and perhaps himself that he had become a devout
Catholic, in consequence of those memorable five hours' instruction from
the Bishop of Bourges, and that there was no hope for France save in its
return to the bosom of the Church, he was yet too politic and too
farseeing to doubt that for him to oppress the Protestants would be not
only suicidal, but, what was worse in his eyes, ridiculous.
He knew, too, that with thirty or forty thousand fighting-men in the
field, with seven hundred and forty churches in the various provinces for
their places of worship, with all the best fortresses in France in their
possession, with leaders like Rohan, Lesdiguieres, Bouillon, and many
others, and with the most virtuous, self-denying, Christian government,
established and maintained by themselves, it would be madness for him and
his dynasty to deny the Protestants their political and religious
liberty, or to attempt a crusade against their brethren in the
Netherlands.
France was far more powerful than Spain, although the world had not yet
recognised the fact. Yet it would have been difficult for both united to
crush the new commonwealth, however paradoxical such a proposition seemed
to contemporaries.
Sully was conscientiously in favour of peace, and Sully was the one great
minister of France. Not a Lerma, certainly; for France was not Spain, nor
was Henry IV. a Philip III. The Huguenot duke was an inferior financier
to his Spanish contemporary, if it were the height of financial skill for
a minister to exhaust the resources of a great kingdom in order to fill
his own pocket. Sully certainly did not neglect his own interests, for he
had accumulated a fortune of at least seventy thousand dollars a year,
besides a cash capital estimated at a million and a half. But while
enriching himself, he had wonderfully improved the condition of the royal
treasury. He had reformed many abuses and opened many new sources of
income. He had, of course, not accomplished the whole Augean task of
purification. He was a vigorous Huguenot, but no Hercules, and demigods
might have shrunk appalled at the filthy mass of corruption which great
European kingdoms everywhere presented to the reformer's eye. Compared to
the Spanish Government, that of France might almost have been considered
virtuous, yet even there everything was venal.
To negotiate was to bribe right and left, and at every step. All the
ministers and great functionaries received presents, as a matter of
course, and it was necessary to pave the pathway even of their
ante-chambers with gold.
The king was fully aware of the practice, but winked at it, because his
servants, thus paid enormous sums by the public and by foreign
Governments, were less importunate for rewards and salaries from himself.
One man in the kingdom was said to have clean hands, the venerable and
sagacious chancellor, Pomponne de Bellievre. His wife, however, was less
scrupulous, and readily disposed of influence and court-favour for a
price, without the knowledge, so it was thought, of the great judge.
Jeannin, too, was esteemed a man of personal integrity, ancient Leaguer
and tricky politician though he were.
Highest offices of magistracy and judicature, Church and State, were
objects of a traffic almost as shameless as in Spain. The ermine was sold
at auction, mitres were objects of public barter, Church preferments were
bestowed upon female children in their cradles. Yet there was hope in
France, notwithstanding that the Pragmatic Sanction of St. Louis, the
foundation of the liberties of the Gallican Church, had been annulled by
Francis, who had divided the seamless garment of Church patronage with
Leo.
Those four thousand great Huguenot lords, those thirty thousand
hard-fighting weavers, and blacksmiths, and other plebeians, those seven
hundred and forty churches, those very substantial fortresses in every
province of the kingdom, were better facts than the Holy Inquisition to
preserve a great nation from sinking into the slough of political
extinction.
Henry was most anxious that Sully should convert himself to the ancient
Church, and the gossips of the day told each other that the duke had
named his price for his conversion. To be made high constable of France,
it was said would melt the resolve of the stiff Huguenot. To any other
inducement or blandishment he was adamant. Whatever truth may have been
in such chatter, it is certain that the duke never gratified his master's
darling desire.
Yet it was for no lack of attempts and intrigues on the part of the king,
although it is not probable that he would have ever consented to bestow
that august and coveted dignity upon a Bethune.
The king did his best by intrigue, by calumny, by talebearing, by
inventions, to set the Huguenots against each other, and to excite the
mutual jealousy of all his most trusted adherents, whether Protestant or
Catholic. The most good-humoured, the least vindictive, the most
ungrateful, the falsest of mankind, he made it his policy, as well as his
pastime, to repeat, with any amount of embroidery that his most florid
fancy could devise, every idle story or calumny that could possibly
create bitter feeling and make mischief among those who surrounded him.
Being aware that this propensity was thoroughly understood, he only
multiplied fictions, so cunningly mingled with truths, as to leave his
hearers quite unable to know what to believe and what to doubt. By such
arts, force being impossible, he hoped one day to sever the band which
held the conventicles together, and to reduce Protestantism to
insignificance. He would have cut off the head of D'Aubigne or Duplessis
Mornay to gain an object, and have not only pardoned but caressed and
rewarded Biron when reeking from the conspiracy against his own life and
crown, had he been willing to confess and ask pardon for his stupendous
crime. He hated vindictive men almost as much as he despised those who
were grateful.
He was therefore far from preferring Sully to Villeroy or Jeannin, but he
was perfectly aware that, in financial matters at least, the duke was his
best friend and an important pillar of the state.
The minister had succeeded in raising the annual revenue of France to
nearly eleven millions of dollars, and in reducing the annual
expenditures to a little more than ten millions. To have a balance on the
right side of the public ledger was a feat less easily accomplished in
those days even than in our own. Could the duke have restrained his
sovereign's reckless extravagance in buildings, parks, hunting
establishments, and harems, he might have accomplished even greater
miracles. He lectured the king roundly, as a parent might remonstrate
with a prodigal son, but it was impossible even for a Sully to rescue
that hoary-headed and most indomitable youth from wantonness and riotous
living. The civil-list of the king amounted to more than one-tenth of the
whole revenue.
On the whole, however, it was clear, as France was then constituted and
administered, that a general peace would be, for the time at least, most
conducive to its interests, and Henry and his great minister were
sincerely desirous of bringing about that result.
Preliminaries for a negotiation which should terminate this mighty war
were now accordingly to be laid down at the Hague. Yet it would seem
rather difficult to effect a compromise. Besides the powers less
interested, but which nevertheless sent representatives to watch the
proceedings--such as Sweden, Denmark, Brandenburg, the Elector
Palatine--there were Spain, France, England, the republic, and the
archdukes.
Spain knew very well that she could not continue the war; but she hoped
by some quibbling recognition of an impossible independence to recover
that authority over her ancient vassals which the sword had for the time
struck down. Distraction in councils, personal rivalries, the well-known
incapacity of a people to govern itself, commercial greediness,
provincial hatreds, envies and jealousies, would soon reduce that jumble
of cities and villages, which aped the airs of sovereignty, into
insignificance and confusion. Adroit management would easily re-assert
afterwards the sovereignty of the Lord's anointed. That a republic of
freemen, a federation of independent states, could take its place among
the nations did not deserve a serious thought.
Spain in her heart preferred therefore to treat. It was however
indispensable that the Netherlands should reestablish the Catholic
religion throughout the land, should abstain then and for ever from all
insolent pretences to trade with India or America, and should punish such
of their citizens as attempted to make voyages to the one or the other.
With these trifling exceptions, the court of Madrid would look with
favour on propositions made in behalf of the rebels.
France, as we have seen, secretly aspired to the sovereignty of all the
Netherlands, if it could be had. She was also extremely in favour of
excluding the Hollanders from the Indies, East and West. The king, fired
with the achievements of the republic at sea, and admiring their great
schemes for founding empires at the antipodes by means of commercial
corporations, was very desirous of appropriating to his own benefit the
experience, the audacity, the perseverance, the skill and the capital of
their merchants and mariners. He secretly instructed his commissioners,
therefore, and repeatedly urged it upon them, to do their best to procure
the renunciation, on the part of the republic, of the Indian trade, and
to contrive the transplantation into France of the mighty trading
companies, so successfully established in Holland and Zeeland.
The plot thus to deprive the provinces of their India trade was supposed
by the statesmen of the republic to have been formed in connivance with
Spain. That power, finding itself half pushed from its seat of power in
the East by the "grand and infallible society created by the United
Provinces,"--[Memoir of Aerssens, ubi sup]--would be but too happy to
make use of this French intrigue in order to force the intruding Dutch
navy from its conquests.
Olden-Barneveld, too politic to offend the powerful and treacherous ally
by a flat refusal, said that the king's friendship was more precious than
the India trade. At the same time he warned the French Government that,
if they ruined the Dutch East India Company, "neither France nor any
other nation would ever put its nose into India again."
James of England, too, flattered himself that he could win for England
that sovereignty of the Netherlands which England as well as France had
so decidedly refused. The marriage of Prince Henry with the Spanish
Infanta was the bait, steadily dangled before him by the politicians of
the Spanish court, and he deluded himself with the thought that the
Catholic king, on the death of the childless archdukes, would make his
son and daughter-in-law a present of the obedient Netherlands. He already
had some of the most important places in the United Netherlands-the
famous cautionary towns in his grasp, and it should go hard but he would
twist that possession into a sovereignty over the whole land. As for
recognising the rebel provinces as an independent sovereignty, that was
most abhorrent to him. Such a tampering with the great principles of
Government was an offence against all crowned heads, a crime in which he
was unwilling to participate.
His instinct against rebellion seemed like second sight. The king might
almost be imagined to have foreseen in the dim future those memorable
months in which the proudest triumph of the Dutch commonwealth was to be
registered before the forum of Christendom at the congress of Westphalia,
and in which the solemn trial and execution of his own son and successor,
with the transformation of the monarchy of the Tudors and Stuarts into a
British republic, were simultaneously to startle the world. But it hardly
needed the gift of prophecy to inspire James with a fear of revolutions.
He was secretly desirous therefore, sustained by Salisbury and his other
advisers, of effecting the restoration of the provinces to the dominion
of his most Catholic Majesty. It was of course the interest of England
that the Netherland rebels should renounce the India trade. So would
James be spared the expense and trouble of war; so would the great
doctrines of divine right be upheld; so would the way be paved towards
the ultimate absorption of the Netherlands by England. Whether his
theological expositions would find as attentive pupils when the pope's
authority had been reestablished over all his neighbours; whether the
Catholic rebels in Ireland would become more tranquil by the subjugation
of the Protestant rebels in Holland; whether the principles of Guy Fawkes
might not find more effective application, with no bulwark beyond the
seas against the incursion of such practitioners--all this he did not
perhaps sufficiently ponder.
Thus far had the discursive mind of James wandered from the position
which it occupied at the epoch of Maximilian de Bethune's memorable
embassy to England.
The archdukes were disposed to quiet. On them fell the burthen of the
war. Their little sovereignty, where--if they could only be allowed to
expend the money squeezed from the obedient provinces in court
diversions, stately architecture, splendid encouragement of the fine
arts, and luxurious living, surrounded by a train of great nobles, fit to
command regiments in the field or assist in the counsels of state, but
chiefly occupied in putting dishes on the court table, handing ewers and
napkins to their Highnesses, or in still more menial offices--so much
enjoyment might be had, was reduced to a mere parade ground for Spanish
soldiery. It was ridiculous, said the politicians of Madrid, to suppose
that a great empire like Spain would not be continually at war in one
direction or another, and would not perpetually require the use of large
armies. Where then could there be a better mustering place for their
forces than those very provinces, so easy of access, so opulent, so
conveniently situate in the neighbourhood of Spain's most insolent
enemies? It was all very fine for the archduke, who knew nothing of war,
they declared, who had no hope of children, who longed only for a life of
inglorious ease, such as he could have had as archbishop, to prate of
peace and thus to compromise the dignity of the realm. On the contrary by
making proper use of the Netherlands, the repose and grandeur of the
monarchy would be secured, even should the war become eternal.
This prospect, not agreeable certainly for the archdukes or their
subjects, was but little admired outside the Spanish court.
Such then were the sentiments of the archdukes, and such the schemes and
visions of Spain, France, and England. On two or three points, those
great powers were mainly, if unconsciously, agreed. The Netherlands
should not be sovereign; they should renounce the India navigation; they
should consent to the re-establishment of the Catholic religion.
On the other hand, the States-General knew their own minds, and made not
the slightest secret of their intentions.
They would be sovereign, they would not renounce the India trade, they
would not agree to the re-establishment of the Catholic religion.
Could the issue of the proposed negotiations be thought hopeful, or was
another half century of warfare impending?
On the 28th May the French commissioners came before the States-General.
There had been many wild rumours flying through the provinces in regard
to the king's secret designs upon the republic, especially since the
visit made to the Hague a twelvemonth before by Francis Aerssens, States'
resident at the French court. That diplomatist, as we know, had been
secretly commissioned by Henry to feel the public pulse in regard to the
sovereignty, so far as that could be done by very private and delicate
fingering. Although only two or three personages had been dealt with--the
suggestions being made as the private views of the ambassadors
only--there had been much gossip on the subject, not only in the
Netherlands, but at the English and Spanish courts. Throughout the
commonwealth there was a belief that Henry wished to make himself king of
the country.
As this happened to be the fact, it was natural that the President,
according to the statecraft of his school, should deny it at once, and
with an air of gentle melancholy.
Wearing therefore his most ingenuous expression, Jeannin addressed the
assembly.
He assured the States that the king had never forgotten how much
assistance he had received from them when he was struggling to conquer
the kingdom legally belonging to him, and at a time when they too were
fighting in their own country for their very existence.
The king thought that he had given so many proofs of his sincere
friendship as to make doubt impossible; but he had found the contrary,
for the States had accorded an armistice, and listened to overtures of
peace, without deigning to consult him on the subject. They had proved,
by beginning and concluding so important a transaction without his
knowledge, that they regarded him with suspicion, and had no respect for
his name. Whence came the causes of that suspicion it was difficult to
imagine, unless from certain false rumours of propositions said to have
been put forward in his behalf, although he had never authorised anyone
to make them, by which men had been induced to believe that he aspired to
the sovereignty of the provinces.
"This falsehood," continued the candid President, "has cut our king to
the heart, wounding him more deeply than anything else could have done.
To make the armistice without his knowledge showed merely your contempt
for him, and your want of faith in him. But he blamed not the action in
itself, since you deemed it for your good, and God grant that you may not
have been deceived. But to pretend that his Majesty wished to grow great
at your expense, this was to do a wrong to his reputation, to his good
faith, and to the desire which he has always shown to secure the
prosperity of your state." Much more spoke Jeannin, in this vein,
assuring the assembly that those abominable falsehoods proceeded from the
enemies of the king, and were designed expressly to sow discord and
suspicion in the provinces. The reader, already aware of the minute and
detailed arrangements made by Henry and his ministers for obtaining the
sovereignty of the United Provinces and destroying their liberties, will
know how to appreciate the eloquence of the ingenuous President.
After the usual commonplaces concerning the royal desire to protect his
allies against wrong and oppression, and to advance their interests, the
President suggested that the States should forthwith communicate the
pending deliberations to all the kings and princes who had favoured their
cause, and especially to the King of England, who had so thoroughly
proved his desire to promote their welfare.
As Jeannin had been secretly directed to pave the way by all possible
means for the king's sovereignty over the provinces; as he was not long
afterwards to receive explicit instructions to expend as much money as
might be necessary in bribing Prince Maurice, Count Lewis William,
Barneveld and his son, together with such others as might seem worth
purchasing, in order to assist Henry in becoming monarch of their
country; and as the English king was at that moment represented in
Henry's private letters to the commissioners as actually loathing the
liberty, power, and prosperity of the provinces, it must be conceded that
the President had acquitted himself very handsomely in his first oration.
Such was the virtue of his honest face.
Barneveld answered with generalities and commonplaces. No man knew better
than the Advocate the exact position of affairs; no man had more
profoundly fathomed the present purposes of the French king; no man had
more acutely scanned his character. But he knew the critical position of
the commonwealth. He knew that, although the public revenue might be
raised by extraordinary and spasmodic exertion to nearly a million
sterling, a larger income than had ever been at the disposition of the
great Queen of England, the annual deficit might be six millions of
florins--more than half the revenue--if the war continued, and that there
was necessity of peace, could the substantial objects of the war be now
obtained. He was well aware too of the subtle and scheming brain which
lay hid beneath that reverend brow of the President, although he felt
capable of coping with him in debate or intrigue. Doubtless he was
inspired with as much ardour for the intellectual conflict as Henry might
have experienced on some great field-day with Alexander Farnese.
On this occasion, however, Barneveld preferred to glide gently over the
rumours concerning Henry's schemes. Those reports had doubtless emanated,
he said, from the enemies of Netherland prosperity. The private
conclusion of the armistice he defended on the ground of necessity, and
of temporary financial embarrassment, and he promised that deputies
should at once be appointed to confer with the royal commissioners in
regard to the whole subject.
In private, he assured Jeannin that the communications of Aerssens had
only been discussed in secret, and had not been confided to more than
three or four persons.
The Advocate, although the leader of the peace party, was by no means
over anxious for peace.
The object of much insane obloquy, because disposed to secure that
blessing for his country on the basis of freedom and independence, he was
not disposed to trust in the sincerity of the archdukes, or the Spanish
court, or the French king. "Timeo Danaos etiam dona ferentes," he had
lately said to Aerssens. Knowing that the resistance of the Netherlands
had been forty years long the bulwark of Europe against the designs of
the Spaniard for universal empire, he believed the republic justified in
expecting the support of the leading powers in the negotiations now
proposed. "Had it not been for the opposition of these provinces," he
said, "he might, in the opinion of the wisest, have long ago been monarch
of all Europe, with small expense of men, money, or credit." He was far
from believing therefore that Spain, which had sacrificed, according to
his estimate, three hundred thousand soldiers and two hundred million
ducats in vain endeavours to destroy the resistance of the United
Provinces, was now ready to lay aside her vengeance and submit to a
sincere peace. Rather he thought to see "the lambkins, now frisking so
innocently about the commonwealth, suddenly transform themselves into
lions and wolves." It would be a fatal error, he said, to precipitate the
dear fatherland into the net of a simulated negotiation, from unwise
impatience for peace. The Netherlanders were a simple, truthful people
and could hope for no advantage in dealing with Spanish friars, nor
discover all the danger and deceit lurking beneath their fair words. Thus
the man, whom his enemies perpetually accused of being bought by the
enemy, of wishing peace at any price, of wishing to bring back the
Catholic party and ecclesiastical influence to the Netherlands, was
vigorously denouncing a precipitate peace, and warning his countrymen of
the danger of premature negotiations.
"As one can hardly know the purity and value of gold," he said, "without
testing it, so it is much more difficult to distinguish a false peace
from a genuine one; for one can never touch it nor taste it; and one
learns the difference when one is cheated and lost. Ignorant people think
peace negotiations as simple as a private lawsuit. Many sensible persons
even think that; the enemy once recognising us for a free, sovereign
state, we shall be in the same position as England and France, which
powers have lately made peace with the archdukes and with Spain. But we
shall find a mighty difference. Moreover, in those kingdoms the Spanish
king has since the peace been ever busy corrupting their officers of
state and their subjects, and exciting rebellion and murder within their
realms, as all the world must confess. And the English merchants complain
that they have suffered more injustice, violence, and wrong from the
Spaniards since the peace than they did during the war."
The Advocate also reminded his countrymen that the archduke, being a
vassal of Spain, could not bind that power by his own signature, and that
there was no proof that the king would renounce his pretended rights to
the provinces. If he affected to do so, it would only be to put the
republic to sleep. He referred, with much significance, to the late
proceedings of the Admiral of Arragon at Emmerich, who refused to release
that city according to his plighted word, saying roundly that whatever he
might sign and seal one day he would not hesitate absolutely to violate
on the next if the king's service was thereby to be benefited.
With such people, who had always learned law-doctors and ghostly
confessors to strengthen and to absolve them, they could never expect
anything but broken faith and contempt for treaties however solemnly
ratified.
Should an armistice be agreed upon and negotiations begun, the Advocate
urged that the work of corruption and bribery would not be a moment
delayed, and although the Netherlanders were above all nations a true and
faithful race, it could hardly be hoped that no individuals would be
gained over by the enemy.
"For the whole country," said Barneveld, "would swarm with Jesuits,
priests, and monks, with calumnies and corruptions--the machinery by
which the enemy is wont to produce discord, relying for success upon the
well-known maxim of Philip of Macedon, who considered no city impregnable
into which he could send an ass laden with gold."
The Advocate was charged too with being unfriendly to the India trade,
especially to the West India Company.
He took the opportunity, however, to enlarge with emphasis and eloquence
upon that traffic as constituting the very lifeblood of the country.
"The commerce with the East Indies is going on so prosperously," he said,
"that not only our own inhabitants but all strangers are amazed. The West
India Company is sufficiently prepared, and will cost the commonwealth so
little, that the investment will be inconsiderable in comparison with the
profits. And all our dangers and difficulties have nearly vanished since
the magnificent victory of Gibraltar, by which the enemy's ships,
artillery, and sailors have been annihilated, and proof afforded that the
Spanish galleys are not so terrible as they pretend to be. By means of
this trade to both the Indies, matters will soon be brought into such
condition that the Spaniards will be driven out of all those regions and
deprived of their traffic. Thus will the great wolf's teeth be pulled
out, and we need have no farther fear of his biting again. Then we may
hope for a firm and assured peace, and may keep the Indies, with the
whole navigation thereon depending, for ourselves, sharing it freely and
in common with our allies."
Certainly no statesman could more strongly depict the dangers of a
pusillanimous treaty, and the splendid future of the republic, if she
held fast to her resolve for political independence, free religion, and
free trade, than did the great Advocate at this momentous epoch of
European history.
Had he really dreamed of surrendering the republic to Spain, that
republic whose resistance ever since the middle of the previous century
had been all that had saved Europe, in the opinion of learned and
experienced thinkers, from the universal empire of Spain--had the
calumnies, or even a thousandth part of the calumnies, against him been
true--how different might have been the history of human liberty!
Soon afterwards, in accordance with the suggestions of the French king
and with their own previous intentions, a special legation was despatched
by the States to England, in order to notify the approaching conferences
to the sovereign of that country, and to invite his participation in the
proceedings.
The States' envoys were graciously received by James, who soon appointed
Richard Spencer and Ralph Winwood as commissioners to the Hague, duly
instructed to assist at the deliberations, and especially to keep a sharp
watch upon French intrigues. There were also missions and invitations to
Denmark and to the Electors Palatine and of Brandenburg, the two latter
potentates having, during the past three years, assisted the States with
a hundred thousand florins annually.
The news of the great victory at Gibraltar had reached the Netherlands
almost simultaneously with the arrival of the French commissioners. It
was thought probable that John Neyen had received the weighty
intelligence some days earlier, and the intense eagerness of the
archdukes and of the Spanish Government to procure the recal of the Dutch
fleet was thus satisfactorily explained. Very naturally this magnificent
success, clouded though it was by the death of the hero to whom it was
due, increased the confidence of the States in the justice of their cause
and the strength of their position.
Once more, it is not entirely idle to consider the effect of scientific
progress on the march of human affairs, as so often exemplified in
history. Whether that half-century of continuous war would have been
possible with the artillery, means of locomotion, and other machinery of
destruction and communication now so terribly familiar to the world, can
hardly be a question. The preterhuman prolixity of negotiation which
appals us in the days when steam and electricity had not yet annihilated
time and space, ought also to be obsolete. At a period when the news of a
great victory was thirty days on its travels from Gibraltar to Flushing,
aged counsellors justified themselves in a solemn consumption of time
such as might have exasperated Jared or Methuselah in his boyhood. Men
fought as if war was the normal condition of humanity, and negotiated as
if they were all immortal. But has the art political kept pace with the
advancement of physical science? If history be valuable for the examples
it furnishes both for imitation and avoidance, then the process by which
these peace conferences were initiated and conducted may be wholesome
food for reflection.
John Neyen, who, since his secret transactions already described at the
Hague and Fort Lillo, had been speeding back and forth between Brussels,
London, and Madrid, had once more returned to the Netherlands, and had
been permitted to reside privately at Delft until the king's ratification
should arrive from Spain.
While thus established, the industrious friar had occupied his leisure in
studying the situation of affairs. Especially he had felt inclined to
renew some of those little commercial speculations which had recently
proved so comfortable in the case of Dirk van der Does. Recorder
Cornelius Aerssens came frequently to visit him, with the private consent
of the Government, and it at once struck the friar that Cornelius would
be a judicious investment. So he informed the recorder that the archdukes
had been much touched with his adroitness and zeal in facilitating the
entrance of their secret agent into the presence of the Prince and the
Advocate. Cruwel, in whose company the disguised Neyen had made his first
journey to the Hague, was a near relative of Aerssena, The honest monk
accordingly, in recognition of past and expected services, begged one day
the recorder's acceptance of a bill, drawn by Marquis Spinola on Henry
Beckman, merchant of Amsterdam, for eighty thousand ducats. He also
produced a diamond ring, valued at ten thousand florins, which he
ventured to think worthy the acceptance of Madame Aerssens. Furthermore,
he declared himself ready to pay fifteen thousand crowns in cash, on
account of the bill, whenever it might be, desired, and observed that the
archdukes had ordered the house which the recorder had formerly occupied
in Brussels to be reconveyed to him. Other good things were in store, it
was delicately hinted, as soon as they had been earned.
Aerssens expressed his thanks for the house, which, he said, legally
belonged to him according to the terms of the surrender of Brussels. He
hesitated in regard to the rest, but decided finally to accept the bill
of exchange and the diamond, apprising Prince Maurice and Olden-Barneveld
of the fact, however, on his return to the Hague. Being subsequently
summoned by Neyen to accept the fifteen thousand crowns, he felt
embarrassed at the compromising position in which he had placed himself.
He decided accordingly to make a public statement of the affair to the
States-General. This was done, and the States placed the ring and the
bill in the hands of their treasurer, Joris de Bie.
The recorder never got the eighty thousand ducats, nor his wife the
diamond; but although there had been no duplicity on his part, he got
plenty of slander. His evil genius had prompted him, not to listen
seriously to the temptings of the monk, but to deal with him on his own
terms. He was obliged to justify himself against public suspicion with
explanations and pamphlets, but some taint of the calumny stuck by him to
the last.
Meantime, the three months allotted for the reception of Philip's
ratification had nearly expired. In March, the royal Government had
expressly consented that the archdukes should treat with the rebels on
the ground of their independence. In June that royal permission had been
withdrawn, exactly because the independence could never be acknowledged.
Albert, naturally enough indignant at such double-dealing, wrote to the
king that his disapprobation was incomprehensible, as the concession of
independence had been made by direct command of Philip. "I am much
amazed," he said, "that, having treated with the islanders on condition
of leaving them free, by express order of your Majesty (which you must
doubtless very well remember), your Majesty now reproves my conduct, and
declares your dissatisfaction." At last, on the 23rd July, Spinola
requested a safe conduct for Louis Verreyken, auditor of the council at
Brussels, to come to the Hague.
On the 23rd of July that functionary accordingly arrived. He came before
Prince Maurice and fifty deputies of the States-General, and exhibited
the document. At the same time he urged them, now that the long-desired
ratification had been produced, to fulfil at once their promise, and to
recal their fleet from the coast of Spain.
Verreyken was requested to withdraw while the instrument was examined.
When recalled, he was informed that the States had the most
staight-forward intention to negotiate, but that the royal document did
not at all answer their expectation. As few of the delegates could read
Spanish, it would first of all be necessary to cause it to be translated.
When that was done they would be able to express their opinion concerning
it and come to a decision in regard to the recal of the fleet. This ended
the proceedings on that occasion.
Next day Prince Maurice invited Verreyken and others to dine. After
dinner the stadholder informed him that the answer of the States might
soon be expected; at the same time expressing his regret that the king
should have sent such an instrument. It was very necessary, said the
prince, to have plain speaking, and he, for one, had never believed that
the king would send a proper ratification. The one exhibited was not at
all to the purpose. The king was expected to express himself as clearly
as the archdukes had done in their instrument. He must agree to treat
with the States-General as with people entirely free, over whom he
claimed no authority. If the king should refuse to make this public
declaration, the States would at once break off all negotiations.
Three days afterwards, seven deputies conferred with Verreyken.
Barneveld, as spokesman, declared that, so far as the provinces were
concerned, the path was plain and open to an honest, ingenuous, lasting
peace, but that the manner of dealing on the other side was artificial
and provocative of suspicion. A most important line, which had been
placed by the States at the very beginning of the form suggested by them,
was wanting in the ratification now received. This hardly seemed an
accidental omission. The whole document was constrained and defective. It
was necessary to deal with Netherlanders in clear and simple language.
The basis of any possible negotiation was that the provinces were to be
treated with as and called entirely free. Unless this was done
negotiations were impossible. The States-General were not so unskilled in
affairs as to be ignorant that the king and the archdukes were quite
capable, at a future day, of declaring themselves untrammelled by any
conditions. They would boast that conventions with rebels and pledges to
heretics were alike invalid. If Verreyken had brought no better document
than the one presented, he had better go at once. His stay in the
provinces was superfluous.
At a subsequent interview Barneveld informed Verreyken that the king's
confirmation had been unanimously rejected by the States-General as
deficient both in form and substance. He added that the people of the
provinces were growing very lukewarm in regard to peace, that Prince
Maurice opposed it, that many persons regretted the length to which the
negotiations had already gone. Difficult as it seemed to be to recede,
the archdukes might be certain that a complete rupture was imminent.
All these private conversations of Barneveld, who was known to be the
chief of the peace party, were duly reported by Verreyken in secret notes
to the archduke and to Spinola. Of course they produced their effect. It
surely might have been seen that the tricks and shifts of an antiquated
diplomacy were entirely out of place if any wholesome result were
desired. But the habit of dissimulation was inveterate. That the man who
cannot dissemble is unfit to reign, was perhaps the only one of his
father's golden rules which Philip III. could thoroughly comprehend, even
if it be assumed that the monarch was at all consulted in regard to this
most important transaction of his life. Verreyken and the friar knew very
well when they brought the document that it would be spurned by the
States, and yet they were also thoroughly aware that it was the king's
interest to, begin the negotiations as soon as possible. When thus
privately and solemnly assured by the Advocate that they were really
wasting their time by being the bearers of these royal evasions, they
learned therefore nothing positively new, but were able to assure their
employers that to thoroughly disgust the peace party was not precisely
the mode of terminating the war.