By JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY
1855
1568 [CHAPTER II.]
Orange, Count Louis, Hoogstraaten, and others, cited before the
Blood-Council--Charges against them--Letter of Orange in reply--
Position and sentiments of the Prince--Seizure of Count de Buren--
Details of that transaction--Petitions to the Council from Louvain
and other places--Sentence of death against the whole population of
the Netherlands pronounced by the Spanish Inquisition and proclaimed
by Philip--Cruel inventions against heretics--The Wild Beggars--
Preliminary proceedings of the Council against Egmont and Horn--
Interrogatories addressed to them in prison--Articles of accusation
against them--Foreclosure of the cases--Pleas to the jurisdiction--
Efforts by the Countesses Egmont and Horn, by many Knights of the
Fleece, and by the Emperor, in favor of the prisoners--Answers of
Alva and of Philip--Obsequious behavior of Viglius--Difficulties
arising from the Golden Fleece statutes set aside--Particulars of
the charges against Count Horn and of his defence--Articles of
accusation against Egmont--Sketch of his reply--Reflections upon the
two trials--Attitude of Orange--His published 'Justification'--His
secret combinations--His commission to Count Louis--Large sums of
money subscribed by the Nassau family, by Netherland refugees, and
others--Great personal sacrifices made by the Prince--Quadruple
scheme for invading the Netherlands--Defeat of the patriots under
Cocqueville--Defeat of Millers--Invasion of Friesland by Count
Louis--Measures of Alva to oppose him--Command of the royalists
entreated to Aremberg and Meghem--The Duke's plan for the campaign--
Skirmish at Dam--Detention of Meghem--Count Louis at Heiliger--Lee--
Nature of the ground--Advance of Aremberg--Disposition of the
patriot forces--Impatience of the Spanish troops to engage--Battle
of Heiliger-Lee--Defeat and death of Aremberg--Death of Adolphus
Nassau--Effects of the battle--Anger and severe measures of Alva--
Eighteen nobles executed at Brussels--Sentence of death pronounced
upon Egmont and Horn--The Bishop of Ypres sent to Egmont--Fruitless
intercession by the prelate and the Countess--Egmont's last night in
prison--The "grande place" at Brussels--Details concerning the
execution of Egmont and Horn--Observation upon the characters of the
two nobles--Destitute condition of Egmont's family.
Late in October, the Duke of Alva made his triumphant entry into the new
fortress. During his absence, which was to continue during the remainder
of the year, he had ordered the Secretary Courteville and the Councillor
del Rio to superintend the commission, which was then actually engaged in
collecting materials for the prosecutions to be instituted against the
Prince of Orange and the other nobles who had abandoned the country.
Accordingly, soon after his return, on the 19th of January, 1568, the
Prince, his brother Louis of Nassau, his brother-in-law, Count Van den
Berg, the Count Hoogstraaten, the Count Culemburg, and the Baron
Montigny, were summoned in the name of Alva to appear before the
Blood-Council, within thrice fourteen days from the date of the
proclamation, under pain of perpetual banishment with confiscation of
their estates. It is needless to say that these seigniors did not obey
the summons. They knew full well that their obedience would be rewarded
only by death.
The charges against the Prince of Orange, which were drawn up in ten
articles, stated, chiefly and briefly, that he had been, and was, the
head and front of the rebellion; that as soon as his Majesty had left the
Netherlands, he had begun his machinations to make himself master of the
country and to expel his sovereign by force, if he should attempt to
return to the provinces; that he had seduced his Majesty's subjects by
false pretences that the Spanish inquisition was about to be introduced;
that he had been the secret encourager and director of Brederode and the
confederated nobles; and that when sent to Antwerp, in the name of the
Regent, to put down the rebellion, he had encouraged heresy and accorded
freedom of religion to the Reformers.
The articles against Hoogstraaten and the other gentlemen mere of similar
tenor. It certainly was not a slender proof of the calm effrontery of the
government thus to see Alva's proclamation charging it as a crime upon
Orange that he had inveigled the lieges into revolt by a false assertion
that the inquisition was about to be established, when letters from the
Duke to Philip, and from Granvelle to Philip, dated upon nearly the same
day, advised the immediate restoration of the inquisition as soon as an
adequate number of executions had paved the way for the measure. It was
also a sufficient indication of a reckless despotism, that while the
Duchess, who had made the memorable Accord with the Religionists,
received a flattering letter of thanks and a farewell pension of fourteen
thousand ducats yearly, those who, by her orders, had acted upon that
treaty as the basis of their negotiations, were summoned to lay down
their heads upon the block.
The Prince replied to this summons by a brief and somewhat contemptuous
plea to the jurisdiction. As a Knight of the Fleece, as a member of the
Germanic Empire, as a sovereign prince in France, as a citizen of the
Netherlands, he rejected the authority of Alva and of his
self-constituted tribunal. His innocence he was willing to establish
before competent courts and righteous judges. As a Knight of the Fleece,
he said he could be tried only by his peers, the brethren of the Order,
and, for that purpose, he could be summoned only by the King as Head of
the Chapter, with the sanction of at least six of his fellow-knights. In
conclusion, he offered to appear before his Imperial Majesty, the
Electors, and other members of the Empire, or before the Knights of the
Golden Fleece. In the latter case, he claimed the right, under the
statutes of that order, to be placed while the trial was pending, not in
a solitary prison, as had been the fate of Egmont and of Horn, but under
the friendly charge and protection of the brethren themselves. The letter
was addressed to the procurator-general, and a duplicate was forwarded to
the Duke.
From the general tenor of the document, it is obvious both that the
Prince was not yet ready to throw down the gauntlet to his sovereign, nor
to proclaim his adhesion to the new religion: Of departing from the
Netherlands in the spring, he had said openly that he was still in
possession of sixty thousand florins yearly, and that he should commence
no hostilities against Philip, so long as he did not disturb him in his
honor or his estates. Far-seeing politician, if man ever were, he knew
the course whither matters were inevitably tending, but he knew how much
strength was derived from putting an adversary irretrievably in the
wrong. He still maintained an attitude of dignified respect towards the
monarch, while he hurled back with defiance the insolent summons of the
viceroy. Moreover, the period had not yet arrived for him to break
publicly with the ancient faith. Statesman, rather than religionist, at
this epoch, he was not disposed to affect a more complete conversion than
the one which he had experienced. He was, in truth, not for a new
doctrine, but for liberty of conscience. His mind was already expanding
beyond any dogmas of the age. The man whom his enemies stigmatized as
atheist and renegade, was really in favor of toleration, and therefore,
the more deeply criminal in the eyes of all religious parties.
Events, personal to himself, were rapidly to place him in a position from
which he might enter the combat with honor.
His character had already been attacked, his property threatened with
confiscation. His closest ties of family were now to be severed by the
hand of the tyrant. His eldest child, the Count de Buren, torn from his
protection, was to be carried into indefinite captivity in a foreign
land. It was a remarkable oversight, for a person of his sagacity, that,
upon his own departure from the provinces, he should leave his son, then
a boy of thirteen years, to pursue his studies at the college of Louvain.
Thus exposed to the power of the government, he was soon seized as a
hostage for the good behavior of the father. Granvelle appears to have
been the first to recommend the step in a secret letter to Philip, but
Alva scarcely needed prompting. Accordingly, upon the 13th of February,
1568, the Duke sent the Seignior de Chassy to Louvain, attended by four
officers and by twelve archers. He was furnished with a letter to the
Count de Buren, in which that young nobleman was requested to place
implicit confidence in the bearer of the despatch, and was informed that
the desire which his Majesty had to see him educated for his service, was
the cause of the communication which the Seignior de Chassy was about to
make.
That gentleman was, moreover, minutely instructed as to his method of
proceeding in this memorable case of kidnapping. He was to present the
letter to the young Count in presence of his tutor. He was to invite him
to Spain in the name of his Majesty. He was to assure him that his
Majesty's commands were solely with a view, to his own good, and that he
was not commissioned to arrest, but only to escort him. He was to allow
the Count to be accompanied only by two valets, two pages, a cook, and a
keeper of accounts. He was, however, to induce his tutor to accompany
him, at least to the Spanish frontier. He was to arrange that the second
day after his arrival at Louvain, the Count should set out for Antwerp,
where he was to lodge with Count Lodron, after which they were to proceed
to Flushing, whence they were to embark for Spain. At that city he was to
deliver the young Prince to the person whom he would find there,
commissioned for that purpose by the Duke. As soon as he had made the
first proposition at Louvain to the Count, he was, with the assistance of
his retinue, to keep the most strict watch over him day and night, but
without allowing the supervision to be perceived.
The plan was carried out admirably, and in strict accordance with the
program. It was fortunate, however, for the kidnappers, that the young
Prince proved favorably disposed to the plan. He accepted the invitation
of his captors with alacrity. He even wrote to thank the governor for his
friendly offices in his behalf. He received with boyish gratification the
festivities with which Lodron enlivened his brief sojourn at Antwerp, and
he set forth without reluctance for that gloomy and terrible land of
Spain, whence so rarely a Flemish traveller had returned. A changeling,
as it were, from his cradle, he seemed completely transformed by his
Spanish tuition, for he was educated and not sacrificed by Philip. When
he returned to the Netherlands, after a twenty years' residence in Spain,
it was difficult to detect in his gloomy brow, saturnine character, and
Jesuistical habits, a trace of the generous spirit which characterized
that race of heroes, the house of Orange-Nassau.
Philip had expressed some anxiety as to the consequences of this capture
upon the governments of Germany. Alva, however, re-assured his sovereign
upon that point, by reason of the extreme docility of the captive, and
the quiet manner in which the arrest had been conducted. At that
particular juncture, moreover, it would, have been difficult for the
government of the Netherlands to excite surprise any where, except by an
act of clemency. The president and the deputation of professors from the
university of Louvain waited upon Vargas, by whom, as acting president of
the Blood-Council, the arrest had nominally been made, with a
remonstrance that the measure was in gross violation of their statutes
and privileges. That personage, however, with his usual contempt both for
law and Latin, answered brutally, "Non curamus vestros privilegios," and
with this memorable answer, abruptly closed his interview with the
trembling pedants.
Petitions now poured into the council from all quarters, abject
recantations from terror-stricken municipalities, humble intercessions in
behalf of doomed and imprisoned victims. To a deputation of the
magistracy of Antwerp, who came with a prayer for mercy in behalf of some
of their most distinguished fellow-citizens, then in prison, the Duke
gave a most passionate and ferocious reply. He expressed his wonder that
the citizens of Antwerp, that hotbed of treason, should dare to approach
him in behalf of traitors and heretics. Let them look to it in future, he
continued, or he would hang every man in the whole city, to set an
example to the rest of the country; for his Majesty would rather the
whole land should become an uninhabited wilderness, than that a single
Dissenter should exist within its territory.
Events now marched with rapidity. The monarch seemed disposed literally
to execute the threat of his viceroy. Early in the year, the most sublime
sentence of death was promulgated which has ever been pronounced since
the creation of the world. The Roman tyrant wished that his enemies'
heads were all upon a single neck, that he might strike them off at a
blow; the inquisition assisted Philip to place the heads of all his
Netherland subjects upon a single neck for the same fell purpose. Upon
the 16th February, 1568, a sentence of the Holy Office condemned all the
inhabitants of the Netherlands to death as heretics. From this universal
doom only a few persons, especially named; were excepted. A proclamation
of the King, dated ten days later, confirmed this decree of the
inquisition, and ordered it to be carried into instant execution, without
regard to age, sex, or condition. This is probably the most concise
death-warrant that was ever framed. Three millions of people, men, women,
and children, were sentenced to the scaffold in: three lines; and, as it
was well known that these were not harmless thunders, like some bulls of
the Vatican, but serious and practical measures, which it was intended
should be enforced, the horror which they produced may be easily
imagined. It was hardly the purpose of Government to compel the absolute
completion of the wholesale plan in all its length and breadth, yet in
the horrible times upon which they had fallen, the Netherlanders might be
excused for believing that no measure was too monstrous to be fulfilled.
At any rate, it was certain that when all were condemned, any might at a
moment's warning be carried to the scaffold, and this was precisely the
course adopted by the authorities.
Under this universal decree the industry of the Blood-Council might, now
seem superfluous. Why should not these mock prosecutions be dispensed
with against individuals, now that a common sentence had swallowed the
whole population in one vast grave? Yet it may be supposed that if the
exertions of the commissioners and councillors served no other purpose,
they at least furnished the Government with valuable evidence as to the
relative wealth and other circumstances of the individual victims. The
leading thought of the Government being that persecution, judiciously
managed, might fructify into a golden harvest,--it was still desirable to
persevere in the cause in which already such bloody progress had been
made.
And under this new decree, the executions certainly did not slacken. Men
in the highest and the humblest positions were daily and hourly dragged
to the stake. Alva, in a single letter to Philip, coolly estimated the
number of executions which were to take place immediately after the
expiration of holy week, "at eight hundred heads." Many a citizen,
convicted of a hundred thousand florins and of no other crime, saw
himself suddenly tied to a horse's tail, with his hands fastened behind
him, and so dragged to the gallows. But although wealth was an
unpardonable sin, poverty proved rarely a protection. Reasons sufficient
could always be found for dooming the starveling laborer as well as the
opulent burgher. To avoid the disturbances created in the streets by the
frequent harangues or exhortations addressed to the bystanders by the
victims on their way to the scaffold, a new gag was invented. The tongue
of each prisoner was screwed into an iron ring, and then seared with a
hot iron. The swelling and inflammation which were the immediate result,
prevented the tongue from slipping through the ring, and of course
effectually precluded all possibility of speech.
Although the minds of men were not yet prepared for concentrated revolt
against the tyranny under which they were languishing, it was not
possible to suppress all sentiments of humanity, and to tread out every
spark of natural indignation.
Unfortunately, in the bewilderment and misery of this people, the first
development of a forcible and organized resistance was of a depraved and
malignant character. Extensive bands of marauders and highway robbers
sprang into existence, who called themselves the Wild Beggars, and who,
wearing the mask and the symbols of a revolutionary faction, committed
great excesses in many parts of the country, robbing, plundering, and
murdering. Their principal wrath was exercised against religious houses
and persons. Many monasteries were robbed, many clerical persons maimed
and maltreated. It became a habit to deprive priests of their noses or
ears, and to tie them to the tails of horses. This was the work of
ruffian gangs, whose very existence was engendered out of the social and
moral putrescence to which the country was reduced, and who were willing
to profit by the deep and universal hatred which was felt against
Catholics and monks. An edict thundered forth by Alva, authorizing and
commanding all persons to slay the wild beggars at sight, without trial
or hangman, was of comparatively slight avail. An armed force of veterans
actively scouring the country was more successful, and the freebooters
were, for a time, suppressed.
Meantime the Counts Egmont and Horn had been kept in rigorous confinement
at Ghent. Not a warrant had been read or drawn up for their arrest. Not a
single preliminary investigation, not the shadow of an information had
preceded the long imprisonment of two men so elevated in rank, so
distinguished in the public service. After the expiration of two months,
however, the Duke condescended to commence a mock process against them.
The councillors appointed to this work were Vargas and Del Rio, assisted
by Secretary Praets. These persons visited the Admiral on the 10th, 11th,
12th and 17th of November, and Count Egmont on the 12th, 13th, 14th, and
16th, of the same month; requiring them to respond to a long, confused,
and rambling collection of interrogatories. They were obliged to render
these replies in prison, unassisted by any advocates, on penalty of being
condemned 'in contumaciam'. The questions, awkwardly drawn up as they
seemed, were yet tortuously and cunningly arranged with a view of
entrapping the prisoners into self-contradiction. After this work had
been completed, all the papers by which they intended to justify their
answers were taken away from them. Previously, too, their houses and
those of their secretaries, Bakkerzeel and Alonzo de la Loo, had been
thoroughly ransacked, and every letter and document which could be found
placed in the hands of government. Bakkerzeel, moreover, as already
stated, had been repeatedly placed upon the rack, for the purpose of
extorting confessions which might implicate his master. These
preliminaries and precautionary steps having been taken, the Counts had
again been left to their solitude for two months longer. On the 10th
January, each was furnished with a copy of the declarations or
accusations filed against him by the procurator-general. To these
documents, drawn up respectively in sixty-three, and in ninety articles,
they were required, within five days' time, without the assistance of an
advocate, and without consultation with any human being, to deliver a
written answer, on pain, as before, of being proceeded against and
condemned by default.
This order was obeyed within nearly the prescribed period and here, it
may be said, their own participation in their trial ceased; while the
rest of the proceedings were buried in the deep bosom of the
Blood-Council. After their answers had been delivered, and not till then,
the prisoners were, by an additional mockery, permitted to employ
advocates. These advocates, however, were allowed only occasional
interviews with their clients, and always in the presence of certain
persons, especially deputed for that purpose by the Duke. They were also
allowed commissioners to collect evidence and take depositions, but
before the witnesses were ready, a purposely premature day, 8th of May,
was fixed upon for declaring the case closed, and not a single tittle of
their evidence, personal or documentary, was admitted.--Their advocates
petitioned for an exhibition of the evidence prepared by government, and
were refused. Thus, they were forbidden to use the testimony in their
favor, while that which was to be employed against them was kept secret.
Finally, the proceedings were formally concluded on the 1st of June, and
the papers laid before the Duke. The mass of matter relating to these two
monster processes was declared, three days afterwards to have been
examined--a physical impossibility in itself--and judgment was pronounced
upon the 4th of June. This issue was precipitated by the campaign of
Louis Nassau in Friesland, forming a aeries of important events which it
will be soon our duty to describe. It is previously necessary, however,
to add a few words in elucidation of the two mock trials which have been
thus briefly sketched.
The proceeding had been carried on, from first to last, under protest by
the prisoners, under a threat of contumacy on the part of the government.
Apart from the totally irresponsible and illegal character of the
tribunal before which they were summoned--the Blood-Council being a
private institution of Alva's without pretext or commission--these nobles
acknowledged the jurisdiction of but three courts. As Knights of the
Golden Fleece, both claimed the privilege of that Order to be tried by
its statutes. As a citizen and noble of Brabant, Egmont claimed the
protection of the "Joyeuse Entree," a constitution which had been sworn
to by Philip and his ancestors, and by Philip more amply, than by all his
ancestors. As a member and Count of the Holy Roman Empire, the Admiral
claimed to be tried by his peers, the electors and princes of the realm.
The Countess Egmont, since her husband's arrest, and the confiscation of
his estates before judgment, had been reduced to a life of poverty as
well as agony. With her eleven children, all of tender age, she had taken
refuge in a convent. Frantic with despair, more utterly desolate, and
more deeply wronged than high-born lady had often been before, she left
no stone unturned to save her husband from his fate, or at least to
obtain for him an impartial and competent tribunal. She addressed the
Duke of Alva, the King, the Emperor, her brother the Elector Palatine,
and many leading Knights of the Fleece. The Countess Dowager of Horn,
both whose sons now lay in the jaws of death, occupied herself also with
the most moving appeals to the same high personages. No pains were spared
to make the triple plea to the jurisdiction valid. The leading Knights of
the Fleece, Mansfeld, whose loyalty was unquestioned, and Hoogstraaten,
although himself an outlaw; called upon the King of Spain to protect the
statutes of the illustrious order of which he was the chief. The estates
of Brabant, upon the petition of Sabina, Countess Egmont, that they would
take to heart the privileges of the province, so that her husband might
enjoy that protection of which the meanest citizen in the land could not
be justly deprived, addressed a feeble and trembling protest to Alva, and
enclosed to him the lady's petition. The Emperor, on behalf of Count
Horn, wrote personally to Philip, to claim for him a trial before the
members of the realm.
It was all in vain. The conduct of Philip and his Viceroy coincided in
spirit with the honest brutality of Vargas. "Non curamus vestros
privilegios," summed up the whole of the proceedings. Non curamus vestros
privilegios had been the unanswerable reply to every constitutional
argument which had been made against tyranny since Philip mounted his
father's throne. It was now the only response deemed necessary to the
crowd of petitions in favor of the Counts, whether they proceeded from
sources humble or august. Personally, the King remained silent as the
grave. In writing to the Duke of Alva, he observed that "the Emperor, the
Dukes of Bavaria and Lorraine, the Duchess and the Duchess-dowager, had
written to him many times, and in the most pressing manner, in favor of
the Counts Horn and Egmont." He added, that he had made no reply to them,
nor to other Knights of the Fleece who had implored him to respect the
statutes of the order, and he begged Alva "to hasten the process as fast
as possible." To an earnest autograph letter, in which the Emperor, on
the 2nd of March, 1568, made a last effort to save the illustrious
prisoners, he replied, that "the whole world would at last approve his
conduct, but that, at any rate, he would not act differently, even if he
should risk the loss of the provinces, and if the sky should fall on his
head."
But little heed was paid to the remonstrances in behalf of the imperial
Courts, or the privileges of Brabant. These were but cobweb impediments
which, indeed, had long been brushed away. President Viglius was even
pathetic on the subject of Madame Egmont's petition to the council of
Brabant. It was so bitter, he said, that the Duke was slightly annoyed,
and took it ill that the royal servants in that council should have his
Majesty's interests so little at heart. It seemed indecent in the eyes of
the excellent Frisian, that a wife pleading for her husband, a mother for
her, eleven children, so soon to be fatherless, should indulge in strong
language!
The statutes of the Fleece were obstacles somewhat more serious. As,
however, Alva had come to the Netherlands pledged to accomplish the
destruction of these two nobles, as soon as he should lay his hands upon
them, it was only a question of form, and even that question was, after a
little reflection, unceremoniously put aside.
To the petitions in behalf of the two Counts, therefore, that they should
be placed in the friendly keeping of the Order, and be tried by its
statutes, the Duke replied, peremptorily, that he had undertaken the
cognizance of this affair by commission of his Majesty, as sovereign of
the land, not as head of the Golden Fleece, that he should carry it
through as it had been commenced, and that the Counts should discontinue
presentations of petitions upon this point.
In the embarrassment created by the stringent language of these statutes,
Doctor Viglius found an opportunity to make himself very useful. Alva had
been turning over the laws and regulations of the Order, but could find
no loophole. The President, however, came to his rescue, and announced it
as his legal opinion that the Governor need concern himself no further on
the subject, and that the code of the Fleece offered no legal impediment
to the process. Alva immediately wrote to communicate this opinion to
Philip, adding, with great satisfaction, that he should immediately make
it known to the brethren of the Order, a step which was the more
necessary because Egmont's advocate had been making great trouble with
these privileges, and had been protesting at every step of the
proceedings. In what manner the learned President argued these
troublesome statutes out of the way, has nowhere appeared; but he
completely reinstated himself in favor, and the King wrote to thank him
for his legal exertions.
It was now boldly declared that the statutes of the Fleece did not extend
to such crimes as those with which the prisoner were charged. Alva,
moreover, received an especial patent, ante-dated eight or nine months,
by which Philip empowered him to proceed against all persons implicated
in the troubles, and particularly against Knights of the Golden Fleece.
It is superfluous to observe that these were merely the arbitrary acts of
a despot. It is hardly necessary to criticise such proceedings. The
execution of the nobles had been settled before Alva left Spain. As they
were inhabitants of a constitutional country, it was necessary to stride
over the constitution. As they were Knights of the Fleece, it was
necessary to set aside the statutes of the Order. The Netherland
constitutions seemed so entirely annihilated already, that they could
hardly be considered obstacles; but the Order of the Fleece was an august
little republic of which Philip was the hereditary chief, of which
emperors, kings, and great seigniors were the citizens. Tyranny might be
embarrassed by such subtle and golden filaments as these, even while it
crashed through municipal charters as if they had been reeds and
bulrushes. Nevertheless, the King's course was taken. Although the
thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth chapters of the Order expressly
provided for the trial and punishment of brethren who had been guilty of
rebellion, heresy, or treason; and although the eleventh chapter;
perpetual and immutable, of additions to that constitution by the Emperor
Charles, conferred on the Order exclusive jurisdiction over all crimes
whatever committed by the knights, yet it was coolly proclaimed by Alva,
that the crimes for which the Admiral and Egmont had been arrested, were
beyond the powers of the tribunal.
So much for the plea to the jurisdiction. It is hardly worth while to
look any further into proceedings which were initiated and brought to a
conclusion in the manner already narrated. Nevertheless, as they were
called a process, a single glance at the interior of that mass of
documents can hardly be superfluous.
The declaration against Count Horn; upon which, supported by invisible
witnesses, he was condemned, was in the nature of a narrative. It
consisted in a rehearsal of circumstances, some true and some fictitious,
with five inferences. These five inferences amounted to five crimes--high
treason, rebellion, conspiracy, misprision of treason, and breach of
trust. The proof of these crimes was evolved, in a dim and misty manner,
out of a purposely confused recital. No events, however, were
recapitulated which have not been described in the course of this
history. Setting out with a general statement, that the Admiral, the
Prince of Orange, Count Egmont, and other lords had organized a plot to
expel his Majesty from the Netherlands, and to divide the provinces among
themselves; the declaration afterwards proceeded to particulars. Ten of
its sixty-three articles were occupied with the Cardinal Granvelle, who,
by an absurd affectation, was never directly named, but called "a certain
personage--a principal personage--a grand personage, of his Majesty's
state council." None of the offences committed against him were
forgotten: the 11th of March letter, the fool's-cap, the livery, were
reproduced in the most violent colors, and the cabal against the minister
was quietly assumed to constitute treason against the monarch.
The Admiral, it was further charged, had advised and consented to the
fusion of the finance and privy councils with that of state, a measure
which was clearly treasonable. He had, moreover, held interviews with the
Prince of Orange, with Egmont, and other nobles, at Breda and at
Hoogstraaten, at which meetings the confederacy and the petition had been
engendered. That petition had been the cause of all the evils which had
swept the land. "It had scandalously injured the King, by affirming that
the inquisition was a tyranny to humanity, which was an infamous and
unworthy proposition." The confederacy, with his knowledge and
countenance, had enrolled 30,000 men. He had done nothing, any more than
Orange or Egmont, to prevent the presentation of the petition. In the
consultation at the state-council which ensued, both he and the Prince
were for leaving Brussels at once, while Count Egmont expressed an
intention of going to Aix to drink the waters. Yet Count Egmont's
appearance (proceeded this indictment against another individual)
exhibited not a single sign of sickness. The Admiral had, moreover, drank
the toast of "Vivent leg gueux" on various occasions, at the Culemberg
House banquet, at the private table of the Prince of Orange, at a supper
at the monastery of Saint Bernard's, at a dinner given by Burgomaster
Straalen. He had sanctioned the treaties with the rebels at Duffel, by
which he had clearly rendered himself guilty of high treason. He had held
an interview with Orange, Egmont, and Hoogstraaten, at Denremonde, for
the treasonable purpose of arranging a levy of troops to prevent his
Majesty's entrance into the Netherlands. He had refused to come to
Brussels at the request of the Duchess of Parma, when the rebels were
about to present the petition. He had written to his secretary that he
was thenceforth resolved to serve neither King nor Kaiser. He had
received from one Taffin, with marks of approbation, a paper, stating
that the assembling of the states-general was the only remedy for the
troubles in the land. He had, repeatedly affirmed that the inquisition
and edicts ought to be repealed.
On his arrival at Tournay in August, 1566, the people had cried "Vivent
les gueux;" a proof that he liked the cry. All his transactions at
Tournay, from first to last, had been criminal. He had tolerated Reformed
preaching, he had forbidden Catholics and Protestants to molest each
other, he had omitted to execute heretics, he had allowed the
religionists to erect an edifice for public worship outside the walls. He
had said, at the house of Prince Espinoy, that if the King should come
into the provinces with force, he would oppose him with 15,000 troops. He
had said, if his brother Montigny should be detained in Spain, he would
march to his rescue at the head of 50,000 men whom he had at his command.
He had on various occasions declared that "men should live according to
their consciences"--as if divine and human laws were dead, and men, like
wild beasts, were to follow all their lusts and desires. Lastly, he had
encouraged the rebellion in Valenciennes.
Of all these crimes and misdeeds the procurator declared himself
sufficiently informed, and the aforesaid defendant entirely, commonly,
and publicly defamed.
Wherefore, that officer terminated his declaration by claiming "that the
cause should be concluded summarily, and without figure or form of
process; and that therefore, by his Excellency or his sub-delegated
judges, the aforesaid defendant should be declared to have in diverse
ways committed high treason, should be degraded from his dignities, and
should be condemned to death, with confiscation of all his estates."
The Admiral, thus peremptorily summoned, within five days, without
assistance, without documents, and from the walls of a prison, to answer
to these charges, 'solos ex vinculis causam dicere', undertook his task
with the boldness of innocence. He protested, of course, to the
jurisdiction, and complained of the want of an advocate, not in order to
excuse any weakness in his defence, but only any inelegance in his
statement. He then proceeded flatly to deny some of the facts, to admit
others, and to repel the whole treasonable inference. His answer in all
essential respects was triumphant. Supported by the evidence which, alas
was not collected and published till after his death, it was impregnable.
He denied that he had ever plotted against his King, to whom he had ever
been attached, but admitted that he had desired the removal of Granvelle,
to whom he had always been hostile. He had, however, been an open and
avowed enemy to the Cardinal, and had been engaged in no secret
conspiracy against his character or against his life. He denied that the
livery (for which, however, he was not responsible) had been intended to
ridicule the Cardinal, but asserted that it was intended to afford an
example of economy to an extravagant nobility. He had met Orange and
Egmont at Breda and Hoogstraaten, and had been glad to do so, for he had
been long separated from them. These interviews, however, had been
social, not political, for good cheer and merry-making, not for
conspiracy and treason. He had never had any connection with the
confederacy; he had neither advised nor protected the petition, but, on
the contrary, after hearing of the contemplated movement, had written to
give notice thereof to the Duchess. He was in no manner allied, with
Brederode, but, on the contrary, for various reasons, was not upon
friendly terms with him. He had not entered his house since his return
from Spain. He had not been a party to the dinner at Culemburg House.
Upon that day he had dined with the Prince of Orange, with whom he was
lodging and, after dinner, they had both gone together to visit Mansfeld,
who was confined with an inflamed eye. There they had met Egmont, and the
three had proceeded together to Culemburg House in order to bring away
Hoogstraaten, whom the confederates had compelled to dine with them; and
also to warn the nobles not to commit themselves by extravagant and
suspicious excesses. They had remained in the house but a few minutes,
during which time the company had insisted upon their drinking a single
cup to the toast of "Vivent le roy et les gueux." They had then retired,
taking with them Hoogstraaten, and all thinking that they had rendered a
service to the government by their visit, instead of having made
themselves liable to a charge of treason. As to the cries of "Vivent les
gueux" at the tables of Orange, of the Abbot of Saint Bernard, and at
other places, those words had been uttered by simple, harmless fellows;
and as he considered, the table a place of freedom, he had not felt
himself justified in rebuking the manners of his associates,
particularly, in houses where he was himself but a guest. As for
committing treason at the Duffel meeting, he had not been there at all.
He thanked God that, at that epoch, he had been absent from Brussels, for
had he, as well as Orange and Egmont, been commissioned by the Duchess to
arrange those difficult matters, he should have considered it his duty to
do as they did. He had never thought of levying troops against his
Majesty. The Denremonde meeting had been held, to consult upon four
subjects: the affairs of Tournay; the intercepted letters of the French
ambassador, Alava; the letter of Montigny, in which he warned his brother
of the evil impression which the Netherland matters were making in Spain;
and the affairs of Antwerp, from which city the Prince of Orange found it
necessary at that moment to withdraw.--With regard to his absence from
Brussels, he stated that he had kept away from the Court because he was
ruined. He was deeply in debt, and so complete was his embarrassment,
that he had been unable in Antwerp to raise 1000 crowns upon his
property, even at an interest of one hundred per cent. So far from being
able to levy troops, he was hardly able to pay for his daily bread. With
regard to his transactions at Tournay, he had, throughout them all,
conformed himself to the instructions of Madame de Parma. As to the cry
of "Vivent les gueux," he should not have cared at that moment if the
populace had cried 'Vive Comte Horn', for his thoughts were then occupied
with more substantial matters. He had gone thither under a special
commission from the Duchess, and had acted under instructions daily
received by her own hand. He had, by her orders, effected a temporary
compromise between the two religious parties, on the basis of the Duffel
treaty. He had permitted the public preaching to continue, but had not
introduced it for the first time. He had allowed temples to be built
outside the gates, but it was by express command of Madame, as he could
prove by her letters. She had even reproved him before the council,
because the work had not been accomplished with sufficient despatch. With
regard to his alleged threat, that he would oppose the King's entrance
with 15,000 men, he answered, with astonishing simplicity, that he did
not remember making any such observation, but it was impossible for a man
to retain in his mind all the nonsense which he might occasionally utter.
The honest Admiral thought that his poverty, already pleaded, was so
notorious that the charge was not worthy of a serious answer. He also
treated the observation which he was charged with having made, relative
to his marching to Spain with 50,000 men to rescue Montigny as "frivolous
and ridiculous." He had no power to raise a hundred men. Moreover he had
rejoiced at Montigny's detention, for he had thought that to be out of
the Netherlands was to be out of harm's way. On the whole, he claimed
that in all those transactions of his which might be considered
anti-Catholic, he had been governed entirely by the instructions of the
Regent, and by her Accord with the nobles. That Accord, as she had
repeatedly stated to him, was to be kept sacred until his Majesty, by
advice of the states-general, should otherwise ordain.
Finally, he observed, that law was not his vocation. He was no
pettifogger, but he had endeavored loyally to conform himself to the
broad and general principles of honor, justice, and truth. In a very few
and simple words, he begged his judges to have regard to his deeds, and
to a life of loyal service. If he had erred occasionally in those times
of tumult, his intentions had ever been faithful and honorable.
The charges against Count Egmont were very similar to those against Count
Horn. The answers of both defendants were nearly identical.
Interrogations thus addressed to two different persons, as to
circumstances which had occurred long before, could not have been thus
separately, secretly, but simultaneously answered in language
substantially the same, had not that language been the words of truth.
Egmont was accused generally of plotting with others to expel the King
from the provinces, and to divide the territory among themselves. Through
a long series of ninety articles, he was accused of conspiring against
the character and life of Cardinal Granvelle. He was the inventor, it was
charged, of the fool's-cap livery. He had joined in the letters to the
King, demanding the prelate's removal. He had favored the fusion of the
three councils. He had maintained that the estates-general ought to be
forthwith assembled, that otherwise the debts of his Majesty and of the
country could never be paid, and that the provinces would go to the
French, to the Germans, or to the devil. He had asserted that he would
not be instrumental in burning forty or fifty thousand men, in order that
the inquisition and the edicts might be sustained. He had declared that
the edicts were rigorous. He had advised the Duchess, to moderate them,
and remove the inquisition, saying that these measures, with a pardon
general in addition, were the only means of quieting the country. He had
advised the formation of the confederacy, and promised to it his
protection and favor. He had counselled the presentation of the petition.
He had arranged all these matters, in consultation with the other nobles,
at the interviews at Breda and Hoogstraaten. He had refused the demand of
Madame de Parma, to take arms in her defence. He had expressed his
intention, at a most critical moment, of going to the baths of Aix for
his health, although his personal appearance gave no indication of any
malady whatever. He had countenanced and counselled the proceedings of
the rebel nobles at Saint Trond. He had made an accord with those of "the
religion" at Ghent, Bruges, and other places. He had advised the Duchess
to grant a pardon to those who had taken up arms. He had maintained, in
common with the Prince of Orange, at a session of the state council, that
if Madame should leave Brussels, they would assemble the states-general
of their own authority, and raise a force of forty thousand men. He had
plotted treason, and made arrangements for the levy of troops at the
interview at Denremonde, with Horn, Hoogstraaten, and the Prince of
Orange. He had taken under his protection on the 20th April, 1566, the
confederacy of the rebels; had promised that they should never be
molested, for the future, on account of the inquisition or the edicts,
and that so long as they kept within the terms of the Petition and the
Compromise, he would defend them with his own person. He had granted
liberty of preaching outside the walls in many cities within his
government. He had said repeatedly, that if the King desired to introduce
the inquisition into the Netherlands, he would sell all his property and
remove to another land; thus declaring with how much contempt and
detestation he regarded the said inquisition. He had winked at all the
proceedings of the sectaries. He had permitted the cry of "Vivent les
gueux" at his table. He had assisted at the banquet at Culemburg House.
These were the principal points in the interminable act of accusation.
Like the Admiral, Egmont admitted many of the facts, and flatly denied
the rest. He indignantly repelled the possibility of a treasonable
inference from any of, or all, his deeds. He had certainly desired the
removal of Granvelle, for he believed that the King's service would
profit by his recal. He replied, almost in the same terms as the Admiral
had done, to the charge concerning the livery, and asserted that its
principal object had been to set an example of economy. The fool's-cap
and bells had been changed to a bundle of arrows, in consequence of a
certain rumor which became rife in Brussels, and in obedience to an
ordinance of Madame de Parma. As to the assembling of the states-general,
the fusion of the councils, the moderation of the edicts, he had
certainly been in favor of these measures, which he considered to be
wholesome and lawful, not mischievous or treasonable. He had certainly
maintained that the edicts were rigorous, and had advised the Duchess,
under the perilous circumstances of the country, to grant a temporary
modification until the pleasure of his Majesty could be known. With
regard to the Compromise, he had advised all his friends to keep out of
it, and many in consequence had kept out of it. As to the presentation of
the petition, he had given Madame de Parma notice thereof, so soon as he
had heard that such a step was contemplated. He used the same language as
had been employed by Horn, with regard to the interview at Breda and
Hoogstraaten--that they had been meetings of "good cheer" and good
fellowship. He had always been at every moment at the command of the
Duchess, save when he had gone to Flanders and Artois to suppress the
tumults, according to her express orders. He had no connexion with the
meeting of the nobles at Saint Trond. He had gone to Duffel as special
envoy from the Duchess, to treat with certain plenipotentiaries appointed
at the Saint Trond meeting. He had strictly conformed to the letter of
instructions, drawn up by the Duchess, which would be found among his
papers, but he had never promised the nobles his personal aid or
protection. With regard to the Denremonde meeting, he gave almost exactly
the same account as Horn had given. The Prince, the Admiral, and himself,
had conversed between a quarter past eleven and dinner time, which was
twelve o'clock, on various matters, particularly upon the King's
dissatisfaction with recent events in the Netherlands, and upon a certain
letter from the ambassador Alava in Paris to the Duchess of Parma. He
had, however, expressed his opinion to Madame that the letter was a
forgery. He had permitted public preaching in certain cities, outside the
walls, where it had already been established, because this was in
accordance with the treaty which Madame had made at Duffel, which she had
ordered him honorably to maintain. He had certainly winked at the
religious exercises of the Reformers, because he had been expressly
commanded to do so, and because the government at that time was not
provided with troops to suppress the new religion by force. He related
the visit of Horn, Orange, and himself to Culemburg House, at the
memorable banquet, in almost the same words which the Admiral had used.
He had done all in his power to prevent Madame from leaving Brussels, in
which effort he had been successful, and from which much good had
resulted to the country. He had never recommended that a pardon should be
granted to those who had taken up arms, but on the contrary, had advised
their chastisement, as had appeared in his demeanor towards the rebels at
Osterwel, Tournay, and Valenciennes. He had never permitted the cry of
"Vivent les gueux" at his own table, nor encouraged it in his presence
any where else.
Such were the leading features in these memorable cases of what was
called high treason. Trial there was none. The tribunal was incompetent;
the prisoners were without advocates; the government evidence was
concealed; the testimony for the defence was excluded; and the cause was
finally decided before a thousandth part of its merits could have been
placed under the eyes of the judge who gave the sentence.
But it is almost puerile to speak of the matter in the terms usually
applicable to state trials. The case had been settled in Madrid long
before the arrest of the prisoners in Brussels. The sentence, signed by
Philip in blank, had been brought in Alva's portfolio from Spain. The
proceedings were a mockery, and, so far as any effect upon public opinion
was concerned, might as well have been omitted. If the gentlemen had been
shot in the court-yard of Jasse-house, by decree of a drum-head
court-martial, an hour after their arrest, the rights of the provinces
and the sentiments of humanity would not have been outraged more utterly.
Every constitutional and natural right was violated from first to last.
This certainly was not a novelty. Thousands of obscure individuals, whose
relations and friends were not upon thrones and in high places, but in
booths and cellars, and whose fate therefore did not send a shudder of
sympathy throughout Europe, had already been sacrificed by the Blood
tribunal. Still this great case presented a colossal emblem of the
condition in which the Netherlands were now gasping. It was a monumental
exhibition of the truth which thousands had already learned to their
cost, that law and justice were abrogated throughout the land. The
country was simply under martial law--the entire population under
sentence of death. The whole civil power was in Alva's hand; the whole
responsibility in Alva's breast. Neither the most ignoble nor the most
powerful could lift their heads in the sublime desolation which was
sweeping the country. This was now proved beyond peradventure. A
miserable cobbler or weaver might be hurried from his shop to the
scaffold, invoking the 'jus de non evocando' till he was gagged, but the
Emperor would not stoop from his throne, nor electors palatine and
powerful nobles rush to his rescue; but in behalf of these prisoners the
most august hands and voices of Christendom had been lifted up at the
foot of Philip's throne; and their supplications had proved as idle as
the millions of tears and death-cries which had beep shed or uttered in
the lowly places of the land. It was obvious; then, that all intercession
must thereafter be useless. Philip was fanatically impressed with his
mission. His viceroy was possessed by his loyalty as by a demon. In this
way alone, that conduct which can never be palliated may at least be
comprehended. It was Philip's enthusiasm to embody the wrath of God
against heretics. It was Alva's enthusiasm to embody the wrath of Philip.
Narrow-minded, isolated, seeing only that section of the world which was
visible through the loop-hole of the fortress in which Nature had
imprisoned him for life, placing his glory in unconditional obedience to
his superior, questioning nothing, doubting nothing, fearing nothing, the
viceroy accomplished his work of hell with all the tranquillity of an
angel. An iron will, which clove through every obstacle; adamantine
fortitude, which sustained without flinching a mountain of responsibility
sufficient to crush a common nature, were qualities which, united to, his
fanatical obedience, made him a man for Philip's work such as could not
have been found again in the world.
The case, then, was tried before a tribunal which was not only
incompetent, under the laws of the land, but not even a court of justice
in any philosophical or legal sense. Constitutional and municipal law
were not more outraged in its creation, than all national and natural
maxims.
The reader who has followed step by step the career of the two
distinguished victims through the perilous days of Margaret's
administration, is sufficiently aware of the amount of treason with which
they are chargeable. It would be an insult to common sense for us to set
forth, in full, the injustice of their sentence. Both were guiltless
towards the crown; while the hands of one, on the contrary, were deeply
dyed in the blood of the people. This truth was so self-evident, that
even a member of the Blood-Council, Pierre Arsens, president of Artois,
addressed an elaborate memoir to the Duke of Alva, criticising the case
according to the rules of law, and maintaining that Egmont, instead of
deserving punishment, was entitled to a signal reward.
So much for the famous treason of Counts Egmont and Horn, so far as
regards the history of the proceedings and the merits of the case. The
last act of the tragedy was precipitated by occurrences which must be now
narrated.
The Prince of Orange had at last thrown down the gauntlet. Proscribed,
outlawed, with his Netherland property confiscated, and his eldest child
kidnapped, he saw sufficient personal justification for at last stepping
into the lists, the avowed champion of a nation's wrongs. Whether the
revolution was to be successful, or to be disastrously crushed; whether
its result would be to place him upon a throne or a scaffold, not even
he, the deep-revolving and taciturn politician, could possibly foresee.
The Reformation, in which he took both a political and a religious
interest, might prove a sufficient lever in his hands for the overthrow
of Spanish power in the Netherlands. The inquisition might roll back upon
his country and himself, crushing them forever. The chances seemed with
the inquisition. The Spaniards, under the first chieftain in Europe, were
encamped and entrenched in the provinces. The Huguenots had just made
their fatal peace in France, to the prophetic dissatisfaction of Coligny.
The leading men of liberal sentiments in the Netherlands were captive or
in exile. All were embarrassed by the confiscations which, in
anticipation of sentence, had severed the nerves of war. The country was
terror-stricken; paralyzed, motionless, abject, forswearing its
convictions, and imploring only life. At this moment William of Orange
reappeared upon the scene.
He replied to the act of condemnation, which had been pronounced against
him in default, by a published paper, of moderate length and great
eloquence. He had repeatedly offered to place himself, he said, upon
trial before a competent court. As a Knight of the Fleece, as a member of
the Holy Roman Empire, as a sovereign prince, he could acknowledge no
tribunal save the chapters of the knights or of the realm. The Emperor's
personal intercession with Philip had been employed in vain, to obtain
the adjudication of his case by either. It would be both death and
degradation on his part to acknowledge the jurisdiction of the infamous
Council of Blood. He scorned, he said, to plead his cause "before he knew
not what base knaves, not fit to be the valets of his companions and
himself."
He appealed therefore to the judgment of the world. He published not an
elaborate argument, but a condensed and scathing statement of the
outrages which had been practised upon him. He denied that he had been a
party to the Compromise. He denied that he had been concerned in the
Request, although he denounced with scorn the tyranny which could treat a
petition to government as an act of open war against the sovereign. He
spoke of Granvelle with unmeasured wrath. He maintained that his own
continuance in office had been desired by the cardinal, in order that his
personal popularity might protect the odious designs of the government.
The edicts, the inquisition, the persecution, the new bishoprics, had
been the causes of the tumults. He concluded with a burst of indignation
against Philip's conduct toward himself. The monarch had forgotten his
services and those of his valiant ancestors. He had robbed him of honor,
he had robbed him of his son--both dearer to him than life. By thus doing
he had degraded himself more than he had injured him, for he had broken
all his royal oaths and obligations.
The paper was published early in the summer of 1568. At about the same
time, the Count of Hoogstraaten published a similar reply to the act of
condemnation with which he had been visited. He defended himself mainly
upon the ground, that all the crimes of which he stood arraigned had been
committed in obedience to the literal instructions of the Duchess of
Parma, after her accord with the confederates.
The Prince now made the greatest possible exertions to raise funds and
troops. He had many meetings with influential individuals in Germany. The
Protestant princes, particularly the Landgrave of Hesse and the Elector
of Saxony, promised him assistance. He brought all his powers of
eloquence and of diplomacy to make friends for the cause which he had now
boldly espoused. The high-born Demosthenes electrified large assemblies
by his indignant invectives against the Spanish Philip. He excelled even
his royal antagonist in the industrious subtlety with which he began to
form a thousand combinations. Swift, secret, incapable of fatigue, this
powerful and patient intellect sped to and fro, disentangling the
perplexed skein where all had seemed so hopelessly confused, and
gradually unfolding broad schemes of a symmetrical and regenerated
polity. He had high correspondents and higher hopes in England. He was
already secretly or openly in league with half the sovereigns of Germany.
The Huguenots of France looked upon him as their friend, and on Louis of
Nassau as their inevitable chieftain, were Coligny destined to fall. He
was in league with all the exiled and outlawed nobles of the Netherlands.
By his orders recruits were daily enlisted, without sound of drum. He
granted a commission to his brother Louis, one of the most skilful and
audacious soldiers of the age, than whom the revolt could not have found
a more determined partisan, nor the Prince a more faithful lieutenant.
This commission, which was dated Dillenburg, 6th April, 1568, was a
somewhat startling document. It authorized the Count to levy troops and
wage war against Philip, strictly for Philip's good. The fiction of
loyalty certainly never went further. The Prince of Orange made known to
all "to whom those presents should come," that through the affection
which he bore the gracious King, he purposed to expel his Majesty's
forces from the Netherlands. "To show our love for the monarch and his
hereditary provinces," so ran the commission, "to prevent the desolation
hanging over the country by the ferocity of the Spaniards, to maintain
the privileges sworn to by his Majesty and his predecessors, to prevent
the extirpation of all religion by the edicts, and to save the sons and
daughters of the land from abject slavery, we have requested our dearly
beloved brother Louis Nassau to enrol as many troops as he shall think
necessary."
Van der Bergh, Hoogstraaten, and others, provided with similar powers,
were also actively engaged in levying troops; but the right hand of the
revolt was Count Louis, as his illustrious brother was its head and
heart. Two hundred thousand crowns was the sum which the Prince
considered absolutely necessary for organizing the army with which he
contemplated making an entrance into the Netherlands. Half this amount
had been produced by the cities of Antwerp, Amsterdam, Leyden, Harlem,
Middelburg, Flushing, and other towns, as well as by refugee merchants in
England. The other half was subscribed by individuals. The Prince himself
contributed 50,000 florins, Hoogstraaten 30,000, Louis of Nassau 10,000,
Culemberg 30,000, Van der Bergh 30,000, the Dowager-countess Horn 10,000,
and other persons in less proportion. Count John of Nassau also pledged
his estates to raise a large sum for the cause. The Prince himself sold
all his jewels, plate, tapestry, and other furniture, which were of
almost regal magnificence. Not an enthusiast, but a deliberate, cautious
man, he now staked his all upon the hazard, seemingly so desperate. The
splendor of his station has been sufficiently depicted. His luxury, his
fortune, his family, his life, his children, his honor, all were now
ventured, not with the recklessness of a gambler, but with the calm
conviction of a statesman.
A private and most audacious attempt to secure the person: of Alva and
the possession of Brussels had failed. He was soon, however, called upon
to employ all his energies against the open warfare which was now
commenced.
According to the plan of the Prince, the provinces were to be attacked
simultaneously, in three places, by his lieutenants, while he himself was
waiting in the neighborhood of Cleves, ready for a fourth assault. An
army of Huguenots and refugees was to enter Artois upon the frontier of
France; a second, under Hoogstraaten, was to operate between the Rhine
and the Meuse; while Louis of Nassau was to raise the standard of revolt
in Friesland.
The two first adventures were destined to be signally unsuccessful. A
force under Seigneur de Cocqueville, latest of all, took the field
towards the end of June. It entered the bailiwick of Hesdin in Artois,
was immediately driven across the frontier by the Count de Roeulx, and
cut to pieces at St. Valery by Marechal de Cossis, governor of Picardy.
This action was upon the 18th July. Of the 2500 men who composed the
expedition, scarce 300 escaped. The few Netherlanders who were taken
prisoners were given to the Spanish government, and, of course, hanged.
The force under the Seigneur de Villars was earlier under arms, and the
sooner defeated. This luckless gentleman, who had replaced the Count of
Hoogstraaten, crossed the frontier of Juliers; in the neighborhood of
Maestricht, by the 20th April. His force, infantry and cavalry, amounted
to nearly three thousand men. The object of the enterprise was to, raise
the country; and, if possible, to obtain a foothold by securing an
important city. Roermonde was the first point of attack, but the
attempts, both by stratagem and by force, to secure the town, were
fruitless. The citizens were not ripe for revolt, and refused the army
admittance. While the invaders were, therefore, endeavoring to fire the
gates, they were driven off by the approach of a Spanish force.
The Duke, so soon as the invasion was known to him, had acted with great
promptness. Don Sancho de Lodrono and Don Sancho de Avila, with five
vanderas of Spanish infantry, three companies of cavalry, and about three
hundred pikemen under Count Eberstein, a force amounting in all to about
1600 picked troops, had been at once despatched against Villars. The
rebel chieftain, abandoning his attempt upon Roermonde, advanced towards
Erkelens. Upon the 25th April, between Erkelens and Dalem, the Spaniards
came up with him, and gave him battle. Villars lost all his cavalry and
two vanderas of his infantry in the encounter. With the remainder of his
force, amounting to 1300 men, he effected his retreat in good order to
Dalem. Here he rapidly entrenched himself. At four in the afternoon,
Sancho de Lodrono, at the head of 600 infantry, reached the spot. He was
unable to restrain the impetuosity of his men, although the cavalry under
Avila, prevented by the difficult nature of the narrow path through which
the rebels had retreated, had not yet arrived. The enemy were two to one,
and were fortified; nevertheless, in half an hour the entrenchments were
carried, and almost every man in the patriot army put to the sword.
Villars himself, with a handful of soldiers, escaped into the town, but
was soon afterwards taken prisoner, with all his followers. He sullied
the cause in which he was engaged by a base confession of the designs
formed by the Prince of Orange--a treachery, however, which did not save
him from the scaffold. In the course of this day's work, the Spanish lost
twenty men, and the rebels nearly 200. This portion of the liberating
forces had been thus disastrously defeated on the eve of the entrance of
Count Louis into Friesland.
As early as the 22d April, Alva had been informed, by the
lieutenant-governor of that province, that the beggars were mustering in
great force in the neighborhood of Embden. It was evident that an
important enterprise was about to be attempted. Two days afterwards,
Louis of Nassau entered the provinces, attended by a small body of
troops. His banners blazed with patriotic inscriptions. 'Nunc aut
nunquam, Recuperare aut mori', were the watchwords of his desperate
adventure: "Freedom for fatherland and conscience" was the device which
was to draw thousands to his standard. On the western wolds of Frisia, he
surprised the castle of Wedde, a residence of the absent Aremberg,
stadholder of the province. Thence he advanced to Appingadam, or Dam, on
the tide waters of the Dollart. Here he was met by, his younger brother,
the gallant Adolphus, whose days were so nearly numbered, who brought
with him a small troop of horse. At Wedde, at Dam, and at Slochteren, the
standard was set up. At these three points there daily gathered armed
bodies of troops, voluntary adventurers, peasants with any rustic weapon
which they could find to their hand. Lieutenant-governor Groesbeck wrote
urgently to the Duke, that the beggars were hourly increasing in force;
that the leaders perfectly understood their game; that they kept their
plans a secret, but were fast seducing the heart of the country.
On the 4th May, Louis issued a summons to the magistracy of Groningen,
ordering them to send a deputation to confer with him at Dam. He was
prepared, he said, to show the commission with which he was provided. He
had not entered the country on a mere personal adventure, but had
received orders to raise a sufficient army. By the help of the eternal
God, he was determined, he said, to extirpate the detestable tyranny of
those savage persecutors who had shed so much Christian blood. He was
resolved to lift up the down-trod privileges, and, to protect the
fugitive, terror-stricken Christians and patriarchs of the country. If
the magistrates were disposed to receive him with friendship, it was
well. Otherwise, he should, with regret, feel himself obliged to proceed
against them, as enemies of his Majesty and of the common weal.
As the result of this summons, Louis received a moderate sum of money, on
condition of renouncing for the moment an attack upon the city. With this
temporary supply he was able to retain a larger number of the
adventurers; who were daily swarming around him.
In the mean time Alva was not idle. On the 30th April, he wrote to
Groesbeck, that he must take care not to be taken napping; that he must
keep his eyes well open until the arrival of succor, which was already on
the way. He then immediately ordered Count Aremberg, who had just
returned from France on conclusion of hostilities, to hasten to the seat
of war. Five vanderas of his own regiment; a small body of cavalry, and
Braccamonte's Sardinian legion, making in all a force of nearly 2500 men,
were ordered to follow him with the utmost expedition. Count Meghem,
stadholder of Gueldres, with five vanderas of infantry, three of light
horse, and some artillery, composing a total of about 1500 men, was
directed to co-operate with Aremberg. Upon this point the orders of the
Governor-general were explicit. It seemed impossible that the rabble rout
under Louis Nassau could stand a moment before nearly 4000 picked and
veteran troops, but the Duke was earnest in warning his generals not to
undervalue the enemy.
On the 7th May, Counts Meghem and Aremberg met and conferred at Arnheim,
on their way to Friesland. It was fully agreed between them, after having
heard full reports of the rising in that province, and of the temper
throughout the eastern Netherlands, that it would be rash to attempt any
separate enterprise. On the 11th, Aremberg reached Vollenhoven, where he
was laid up in his bed with the gout. Bodies of men, while he lay sick,
paraded hourly with fife and drum before his windows, and discharged
pistols and arquebuses across the ditch of the blockhouse where he was
quartered. On the 18th, Braccamonte, with his legion, arrived by water at
Harlingen. Not a moment more was lost. Aremberg, notwithstanding his
gout, which still confined him to a litter, started at once in pursuit of
the enemy. Passing through Groningen, he collected all the troops which
could be spared.. He also received six pieces of artillery. Six cannon,
which the lovers of harmony had baptized with the notes of the gamut,
'ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la', were placed at his disposal by the
authorities, and have acquired historical celebrity. It was, however,
ordained that when those musical pieces piped, the Spaniards were not to
dance. On the 22d, followed by his whole force, consisting of
Braccamonte's legion, his own four vanderas, and a troop of Germans, he
came in sight of the enemy at Dam. Louis of Nassau sent out a body of
arquebusiers, about one thousand strong, from the city. A sharp skirmish
ensued, but the beggars were driven into their entrenchments, with a loss
of twenty or thirty men, and nightfall terminated the contest.
It was beautiful to see, wrote Aremberg to Alva, how brisk and eager were
the Spaniards, notwithstanding the long march which they had that day
accomplished. Time was soon to show how easily immoderate, valor might
swell into a fault. Meantime, Aremberg quartered his troops in and about
Wittewerum Abbey, close to the little unwalled city of Dam.
On the other hand, Meghem, whose co-operation had been commanded by Alva,
and arranged personally with Aremberg a fortnight before, at Arnheim, had
been delayed in his movements. His troops, who had received no wages for
a long time had mutinied. A small sum of money, however, sent from
Brussels, quelled this untimely insubordination. Meghem then set forth to
effect his junction with his colleague, having assured the
Governor-general that the war would be ended in six days. The beggars had
not a stiver, he said, and must disband or be beaten to pieces as soon as
Aremberg and he had joined forces. Nevertheless he admitted that these
same "master-beggars," as he called them, might prove too many for either
general alone.
Alva, in reply, expressed his confidence that four or five thousand
choice troops of Spain would be enough to make a short war of it, but
nevertheless warned his officers of the dangers of overweening
confidence. He had been informed that the rebels had assumed the red
scarf of the Spanish uniform. He hoped the stratagem would not save them
from broken heads, but was unwilling that his Majesty's badge should be
altered.
He reiterated his commands that no enterprise should be undertaken,
except by the whole army in concert; and enjoined the generals
incontinently to hang and strangle all prisoners the moment they should
be taken.
Marching directly northward, Meghem reached Coeverden, some fifty miles
from Dam, on the night of the 22d. He had informed Aremberg that he might
expect him with his infantry and his light horse in the course of the
next day. On the following morning, the 23d, Aremberg wrote his last
letter to the Duke, promising to send a good account of the beggars
within a very few hours.
Louis of Nassau had broken up his camp at Dam about midnight. Falling
back, in a southerly direction, along the Wold-weg, or forest road, a
narrow causeway through a swampy district, he had taken up a position
some three leagues from his previous encampment. Near the monastery of
Heiliger Lee, or the "Holy Lion," he had chosen his ground. A little
money in hand, ample promises, and the hopes of booty, had effectually
terminated the mutiny, which had also broken out in his camp. Assured
that Meghem had not yet effected his junction with Aremberg, prepared to
strike, at last, a telling blow for freedom and fatherland, Louis awaited
the arrival of his eager foe.
His position was one of commanding strength and fortunate augury.
Heiliger Lee was a wooded eminence, artificially reared by Premonstrant
monks. It was the only rising ground in that vast extent of watery
pastures, enclosed by the Ems and Lippe--the "fallacious fields"
described by Tacitus. Here Hermann, first of Teutonic heroes, had dashed
out of existence three veteran legions of tyrant Rome. Here the spectre
of Varus, begrimed and gory, had risen from the morass to warn
Germanicus, who came to avenge him, that Gothic freedom was a dangerous
antagonist. And now, in the perpetual reproductions of history, another
German warrior occupied a spot of vantage in that same perilous region.
The tyranny with which he contended strove to be as universal as that of
Rome, and had stretched its wings of conquest into worlds of which the
Caesars had never dreamed. It was in arms, too, to crush not only the
rights of man, but the rights of God. The battle of freedom was to be
fought not only for fatherland, but for conscience. The cause was even
holier than that which had inspired the arm of Hermann.
Although the swamps of that distant age had been transformed into
fruitful pastures, yet the whole district was moist, deceitful, and
dangerous. The country was divided into squares, not by hedges but by
impassable ditches. Agricultural entrenchments had long made the country
almost impregnable, while its defences against the ocean rendered almost
as good service against a more implacable human foe.
Aremberg, leading his soldiers along the narrow causeway, in hot pursuit
of what they considered a rabble rout of fugitive beggars, soon reached
Winschoten. Here he became aware of the presence of his despicable foe.
Louis and Adolphus of Nassau, while sitting at dinner in the convent of
the "Holy Lion," had been warned by a friendly peasant of the approach of
the Spaniards. The opportune intelligence had given the patriot general
time to make his preparations. His earnest entreaties had made his troops
ashamed of their mutinous conduct on the preceding day, and they were now
both ready and willing to engage. The village was not far distant from
the abbey, and in the neighborhood of the abbey Louis of Nassau was now
posted. Behind him was a wood, on his left a hill of moderate elevation,
before him an extensive and swampy field. In the front of the field was a
causeway leading to the abbey. This was the road which Aremberg was to
traverse. On the plain which lay between the wood and the hill, the main
body of the beggars were drawn up. They were disposed in two squares or
squadrons, rather deep than wide, giving the idea of a less number than
they actually contained. The lesser square, in which were two thousand
eight hundred men, was partially sheltered by the hill. Both were flanked
by musketeers. On the brow of the hill was a large body of light armed
troops, the 'enfans perdus' of the army. The cavalry, amounting to not
more than three hundred men, was placed in front, facing the road along
which Aremberg was to arrive.
That road was bordered by a wood extending nearly to the front of the
hill. As Aremberg reached its verge, he brought out his artillery, and
opened a fire upon the body of light troops. The hill protected a large
part of the enemy's body from this attack. Finding the rebels so strong
in numbers and position, Aremberg was disposed only to skirmish. He knew
better than did his soldiers the treacherous nature of the ground in
front of the enemy. He saw that it was one of those districts where peat
had been taken out in large squares for fuel, and where a fallacious and
verdant scum upon the surface of deep pools simulated the turf that had
been removed. He saw that the battle-ground presented to him by his
sagacious enemy was one great sweep of traps and pitfalls. Before he
could carry the position, many men must necessarily be engulfed.
He paused for an instant. He was deficient in cavalry, having only
Martinengo's troop, hardly amounting to four hundred men. He was sure of
Meghem's arrival within twenty-four hours. If, then, he could keep the
rebels in check, without allowing them any opportunity to disperse, he
should be able, on the morrow, to cut them to pieces, according to the
plan agreed upon a fortnight before. But the Count had to contend with a
double obstacle. His soldiers were very hot, his enemy very cool. The
Spaniards, who had so easily driven a thousand musketeers from behind
their windmill, the evening before, who had seen the whole rebel force
decamp in hot haste on the very night of their arrival before Dam,
supposed themselves in full career of victory. Believing that the name
alone of the old legions had stricken terror to the hearts of the
beggars, and that no resistance was possible to Spanish arms, they
reviled their general for his caution. His reason for delay was theirs
for hurry. Why should Meghem's loitering and mutinous troops, arriving at
the eleventh hour, share in the triumph and the spoil? No man knew the
country better than Aremberg, a native of the Netherlands, the stadholder
of the province. Cowardly or heretical motives alone could sway him, if
he now held them back in the very hour of victory. Inflamed beyond
endurance by these taunts, feeling his pride of country touched to the
quick, and willing to show that a Netherlander would lead wherever
Spaniards dared to follow, Aremberg allowed himself to commit the grave
error for which he was so deeply to atone. Disregarding the dictates of
his own experience and the arrangements of his superior, he yielded to
the braggart humor of his soldiers, which he had not, like Alva, learned
to moderate or to despise.
In the mean, time, the body of light troops which had received the fire
from the musical pieces of Groningen was seen to waver. The artillery was
then brought beyond the cover of the wood, and pointed more fully upon
the two main squares of the enemy. A few shots told. Soon afterward the
'enfans perdus' retreated helter-skelter, entirely deserting their
position.
This apparent advantage, which was only a preconcerted stratagem, was too
much for the fiery Spaniards. They rushed merrily forward to attack the
stationary squares, their general being no longer able, to restrain their
impetuosity. In a moment the whole van-guard had plunged into the morass.
In a few minutes more they were all helplessly and hopelessly struggling
in the pools, while the musketeers of the enemy poured in a deadly fire
upon them, without wetting the soles of their own feet. The pikemen, too,
who composed the main body of the larger square, now charged upon all who
were extricating themselves from their entanglement, and drove them back
again to a muddy death. Simultaneously, the lesser patriot squadron,
which had so long been sheltered, emerged from the cover of the hill,
made a detour around its base, enveloped the rear-guard of the Spaniards
before they could advance to the succor of their perishing comrades, and
broke them to pieces almost instantly. Gonzalo de Braccamonte, the very
Spanish colonel who had been foremost in denunciation of Aremberg, for
his disposition to delay the contest, was now the first to fly. To his
bad conduct was ascribed the loss of the day. The anger of Alva was so
high, when he was informed of the incident, that he would have condemned
the officer to death but for the intercession of his friends and
countrymen. The rout was sudden and absolute. The foolhardiness of the
Spaniards had precipitated them into the pit which their enemies had dug.
The day, was lost. Nothing was left for Aremberg but to perish with
honor. Placing himself at the head of his handful of cavalry, he dashed
into the melee. The shock was sustained by young Adolphus of Nassau, at
the head of an equal number of riders. Each leader singled out the other.
They met as "captains of might" should do, in the very midst of the
affray. Aremberg, receiving and disregarding a pistol shot from his
adversary, laid Adolphus dead at his feet, with a bullet through his body
and a sabre cut on his head. Two troopers in immediate attendance upon
the young Count shared the same fate from the same hand. Shortly
afterward, the horse of Aremberg, wounded by a musket ball, fell to the
ground. A few devoted followers lifted the charger to his legs and the
bleeding rider to his saddle. They endeavored to bear their wounded
general from the scene of action. The horse staggered a few paces and
fell dead. Aremberg disengaged himself from his body, and walked a few
paces to the edge of a meadow near the road. Here, wounded in the action,
crippled by the disease which had so long tormented him, and scarcely
able to sustain longer the burthen of his armor, he calmly awaited his
fate. A troop of the enemy advanced soon afterwards, and Aremberg fell,
covered with wounds, fighting like a hero of Homer, single-handed,
against a battalion, with a courage worthy a better cause and a better
fate. The sword by which he received his final death-blow was that of the
Seigneur do Haultain. That officer having just seen his brother slain
before his eyes, forgot the respect due to unsuccessful chivalry.
The battle was scarcely finished when an advancing trumpet was heard. The
sound caused the victors to pause in their pursuit, and enabled a remnant
of the conquered Spaniards to escape. Meghem's force was thought to be
advancing. That general had indeed arrived, but he was alone. He had
reached Zuidlaren, a village some four leagues from the scene of action,
on the noon of that day. Here he had found a letter from Aremberg,
requesting him to hasten. He had done so. His troops, however, having
come from Coevorden that morning, were unable to accomplish so long a
march in addition. The Count, accompanied by a few attendants, reached
the neighborhood of Heiliger Lee only in time to meet with some of the
camp sutlers and other fugitives, from whom he learned the disastrous
news of the defeat. Finding that all was lost, he very properly returned
to Zuidlaren, from which place he made the best of his way to Groningen.
That important city, the key of Friesland, he was thus enabled to secure.
The troops which he brought, in addition to the four German vanderas of
Schaumburg, already quartered there, were sufficient to protect it
against the ill-equipped army of Louis Nassau.
The patriot leader had accomplished, after all, but a barren victory. He
had, to be sure, destroyed a number of Spaniards, amounting, according to
the different estimates, from five hundred to sixteen hundred men. He had
also broken up a small but veteran army. More than all, he had taught the
Netherlanders, by this triumphant termination to a stricken field, that
the choice troops of Spain were not invincible. But the moral effect of
the victory was the only permanent one. The Count's badly paid troops
could with difficulty be kept together. He had no sufficient artillery to
reduce the city whose possession would have proved so important to the
cause. Moreover, in common with the Prince of Orange and all his
brethren, he had been called to mourn for the young and chivalrous
Adolphus, whose life-blood had stained the laurels of this first patriot
victory. Having remained, and thus wasted the normal three days upon the
battle-field, Louis now sat down before Groningen, fortifying and
entrenching himself in a camp within cannonshot of the city.
On the 23rd we have seen that Aremberg had written, full of confidence,
to the Governor-general, promising soon to send him good news of the
beggars. On the 26th, Count Meghem wrote that, having spoken with a man
who had helped to place Aremberg in his coffin, he could hardly entertain
any farther doubt as to his fate.
The wrath of the Duke was even greater than his surprise. Like Augustus,
he called in vain on the dead commander for his legions, but prepared
himself to inflict a more rapid and more terrible vengeance than the
Roman's. Recognizing the gravity of his situation, he determined to take
the field in person, and to annihilate this insolent chieftain who had
dared not only to cope with, but to conquer his veteran regiments. But
before he could turn his back upon Brussels, many deeds were to be done.
His measures now followed each other in breathless succession,
fulminating and blasting at every stroke. On the 28th May, he issued an
edict, banishing, on pain of death, the Prince of Orange, Louis Nassau,
Hoogstraaten, Van den Berg, and others, with confiscation of all their
property. At the same time he razed the Culemburg Palace to the ground,
and erected a pillar upon its ruins, commemorating the accursed
conspiracy which had been engendered within its walls. On the 1st June,
eighteen prisoners of distinction, including the two barons Batenburg,
Maximilian Kock, Blois de Treslong and others, were executed upon the
Horse Market, in Brussels. In the vigorous language of Hoogstraaten, this
horrible tragedy was enacted directly before the windows of that "cruel
animal, Noircarmes," who, in company of his friend, Berlaymont, and the
rest of the Blood-Council, looked out upon the shocking spectacle. The
heads of the victims were exposed upon stakes, to which also their bodies
were fastened. Eleven of these victims were afterward deposited,
uncoffined, in unconsecrated ground; the other seven were left unburied
to moulder on the gibbet. On the 2d June, Villars, the leader in the
Daalem rising, suffered on the scaffold, with three others. On the 3d,
Counts Egmont and Horn were brought in a carriage from Ghent to Brussels,
guarded by ten companies of infantry and one of cavalry. They were then
lodged in the "Brood-huis" opposite the Town Hall, on the great square of
Brussels. On the 4th, Alva having, as he solemnly declared before God and
the world, examined thoroughly the mass of documents appertaining to
those two great prosecutions which had only been closed three days
before, pronounced sentence against the illustrious prisoners. These
documents of iniquity signed and sealed by the Duke, were sent to the
Blood-Council, where they were read by Secretary Praets. The signature of
Philip was not wanting, for the sentences had been drawn upon blanks
signed by the monarch, of which the Viceroy had brought a whole trunk
full from Spain. The sentence against Egmont declared very briefly that
the Duke of Alva, having read all the papers and evidence in the case,
had found the Count guilty of high treason. It was proved that Egmont had
united with the confederates; that he had been a party to the accursed
conspiracy of the Prince of Orange; that he had taken the rebel nobles
under his protection, and that he had betrayed the Government and the
Holy Catholic Church by his conduct in Flanders. Therefore the Duke
condemned him to be executed by the sword on the following day, and
decreed that his head should be placed on high in a public place, there
to remain until the Duke should otherwise direct. The sentence against
Count Horn was similar in language and purport.
That afternoon the Duke sent for the Bishop of Ypres, The prelate arrived
at dusk. As soon as he presented himself, Alva informed him of the
sentence which had just been pronounced, and ordered him to convey the
intelligence to the prisoners. He further charged him with the duty of
shriving the victims, and preparing their souls for death. The bishop
fell on his knees, aghast at the terrible decree. He implored the
Governor-General to have mercy upon the two unfortunate nobles. If their
lives could not be spared, he prayed him at any rate to grant delay. With
tears and earnest supplications the prelate endeavored to avert or to
postpone the doom which had been pronounced. It was in vain. The
sentence, inflexible as destiny, had been long before ordained. Its
execution had been but hastened by the temporary triumph of rebellion in
Friesland. Alva told the Bishop roughly that he had not been summoned to
give advice. Delay or pardon was alike impossible. He was to act as
confessor to the criminals, not as councillor to the Viceroy. The Bishop,
thus rebuked, withdrew to accomplish his melancholy mission. Meanwhile,
on the same evening, the miserable Countess of Egmont had been appalled
by rumors, too vague for belief, too terrible to be slighted. She was in
the chamber of Countess Aremberg, with whom she had come to condole for
the death of the Count, when the order for the immediate execution of her
own husband was announced to her. She hastened to the presence of the
Governor-General. The Princess Palatine, whose ancestors had been
emperors, remembered only that she was a wife and a mother. She fell at
the feet of the man who controlled the fate of her husband, and implored
his mercy in humble and submissive terms. The Duke, with calm and almost
incredible irony, reassured the Countess by the information that, on the
morrow, her husband was certainly to be released. With this ambiguous
phrase, worthy the paltering oracles of antiquity, the wretched woman was
obliged to withdraw. Too soon afterward the horrible truth of the words
was revealed to her--words of doom, which she had mistaken for
consolation.
An hour before midnight the Bishop of Ypres reached Egmont's prison. The
Count was confined in a chamber on the second story of the Brood-huis,
the mansion of the crossbowmen's guild, in that corner of the building
which rests on a narrow street running back from the great square. He was
aroused from his sleep by the approach of his visitor. Unable to speak,
but indicating by the expression of his features the occurrence of a
great misfortune, the Bishop, soon after his entrance, placed the paper
given to him by Alva in Egmont's hands. The unfortunate noble thus
suddenly received the information that his death-sentence had been
pronounced, and that its execution was fixed for the next morning. He
read the paper through without flinching, and expressed astonishment
rather than dismay at its tidings. Exceedingly sanguine by nature, he had
never believed, even after his nine months' imprisonment, in a fatal
termination to the difficulties in which he was involved. He was now
startled both at the sudden condemnation which had followed his lingering
trial, and at the speed with which his death was to fulfil the sentence.
He asked the Bishop, with many expressions of amazement, whether pardon
was impossible; whether delay at least might not be obtained? The prelate
answered by a faithful narrative of the conversation which had just
occurred between Alva and himself. Egmont, thus convinced of his
inevitable doom, then observed to his companion, with exquisite courtesy,
that, since he was to die, he rendered thanks both to God and to the Duke
that his last moments were to be consoled by so excellent a father
confessor.
Afterwards, with a natural burst of indignation, he exclaimed that it was
indeed a cruel and unjust sentence. He protested that he had never in his
whole life wronged his Majesty; certainly never so deeply as to deserve
such a punishment. All that he had done had been with loyal intentions.
The King's true interest had been his constant aim. Nevertheless, if he
had fallen into error, he prayed to God that his death might wipe away
his misdeeds, and that his name might not be dishonored, nor his children
brought to shame. His beloved wife and innocent children were to endure
misery enough by his death and the confiscation of his estates. It was at
least due to his long services that they should be spared further
suffering. He then asked his father confessor what advice he had to give
touching his present conduct. The Bishop replied by an exhortation, that
he should turn himself to God; that he should withdraw his thoughts
entirely from all earthly interests, and prepare himself for the world
beyond the grave. He accepted the advice, and kneeling before the Bishop,
confessed himself. He then asked to receive the sacrament, which the
Bishop administered, after the customary mass. Egmont asked what prayer
would be most appropriate at the hour of execution. His confessor replied
that there was none more befitting than the one which Jesus had taught
his disciples--Our Father, which art in heaven.
Some conversation ensued, in which the Count again expressed his
gratitude that his parting soul had been soothed by these pious and
friendly offices. By a revulsion of feeling, he then bewailed again the
sad fate of his wife and of his young children. The Bishop entreated him
anew to withdraw his mind from such harrowing reflections, and to give
himself entirely to God. Overwhelmed with grief, Egmont exclaimed with
natural and simple pathos--"Alas! how miserable and frail is our nature,
that, when we should think of God only, we are unable to shut out the
images of wife and children."
Recovering from his emotion, and having yet much time, he sat down and
wrote with perfect self-possession two letters, one to Philip and one to
Alva. The celebrated letter to the King was as follows:
"SIRE,--I have learned, this evening, the sentence which your
Majesty has been pleased to pronounce upon me. Although I have
never had a thought, and believe myself never to have done a deed,
which could tend to the prejudice of your Majesty's person or
service, or to the detriment of our true ancient and Catholic
religion, nevertheless I take patience to bear that which it has
pleased the good God to send. If, during these troubles in the
Netherlands, I have done or permitted aught which had a different
appearance, it has been with the true and good intent to serve God
and your Majesty, and the necessity of the times. Therefore, I pray
your Majesty to forgive me, and to have compassion on my poor wife,
my children, and my servants; having regard to my past services.
In which hope I now commend myself to the mercy of God.
"From Brussels,
"Ready to die, this 5th June, 1568,
"Your Majesty's very humble and loyal vassal and servant,
"LAMORAL D'EGMONT."
Having thus kissed the murderous hand which smote him, he handed the
letter, stamped rather with superfluous loyalty than with Christian
forgiveness, to the Bishop, with a request that he would forward it to
its destination, accompanied by a letter from his own hand. This duty the
Bishop solemnly promised to fulfil.
Facing all the details of his execution with the fortitude which belonged
to his character, he now took counsel with his confessor as to the
language proper for him to hold from the scaffold to the assembled
people. The Bishop, however, strongly dissuaded him from addressing the
multitude at all.
The persons farthest removed, urged the priest, would not hear the words,
while the Spanish troops in the immediate vicinity would not understand
them. It seemed, therefore, the part of wisdom and of dignity for him to
be silent, communing only with his God. The Count assented to this
reasoning, and abandoned his intention of saying a few farewell words to
the people, by many of whom he believed himself tenderly beloved. He now
made many preparations for the morrow, in order that his thoughts, in the
last moments, might not be distracted by mechanical details, cutting the
collar from his doublet and from his shirt with his own hands, in order
that those of the hangman might have no excuse for contaminating his
person. The rest of the night was passed in prayer and meditation.
Fewer circumstances concerning the last night of Count Horn's life have
been preserved. It is, however, well ascertained that the Admiral
received the sudden news of his condemnation with absolute composure. He
was assisted at his devotional exercises in prison by the curate of La
Chapelle.
During the night, the necessary preparations for the morning tragedy had
been made in the great square of Brussels. It was the intention of
government to strike terror to the heart of the people by the exhibition
of an impressive and appalling spectacle. The absolute and irresponsible
destiny which ruled them was to be made manifest by the immolation of
these two men, so elevated by rank, powerful connexion, and distinguished
service.
The effect would be heightened by the character of the locality where
the gloomy show was to be presented. The great square of Brussels had
always a striking and theatrical aspect. Its architectural effects,
suggesting in some degree the meretricious union between Oriental and a
corrupt Grecian art, accomplished in the medieval midnight, have amazed
the eyes of many generations. The splendid Hotel de Ville, with its
daring spire and elaborate front, ornamented one side of the place;
directly opposite was the graceful but incoherent facade of the
Brood-huis, now the last earthly resting-place of the two distinguished
victims, while grouped around these principal buildings rose the
fantastic palaces of the Archers, Mariners, and of other guilds, with
their festooned walls and toppling gables bedizened profusely with
emblems, statues, and quaint decorations. The place had been alike the
scene of many a brilliant tournament and of many a bloody execution.
Gallant knights had contended within its precincts, while bright eyes
rained influence from all those picturesque balconies and decorated
windows. Martyrs to religious and to political liberty had, upon the same
spot, endured agonies which might have roused every stone of its pavement
to mutiny or softened them to pity. Here Egmont himself, in happier days,
had often borne away the prize of skill or of valor, the cynosure of
every eye; and hence, almost in the noon of a life illustrated by many
brilliant actions, he was to be sent, by the hand of tyranny, to his
great account.
On the morning of the 5th of June, three thousand Spanish troops were
drawn up in battle array around a scaffold which had been erected in the
centre of the square. Upon this scaffold, which was covered with black
cloth, were placed two velvet cushions, two iron spikes, and a small
table. Upon the table was a silver crucifix. The provost-marshal, Spelle,
sat on horseback below, with his red wand in his hand, little dreaming
that for him a darker doom was reserved than that of which he was now the
minister. The executioner was concealed beneath the draperies of the
scaffold.
At eleven o'clock, a company of Spanish soldiers, led by Julian Romero
and Captain Salinas, arrived at Egmont's chamber. The Count was ready for
them. They were about to bind his hands, but he warmly protested against
the indignity, and, opening the folds of his robe, showed them that he
had himself shorn off his collars, and made preparations for his death.
His request was granted. Egmont, with the Bishop at his side, then walked
with a steady step the short distance which separated him from the place
of execution. Julian Romero and the guard followed him. On his way, he
read aloud the fifty-first Psalm: "Hear my cry, O God, and give ear unto
my prayer!" He seemed to have selected these scriptural passages as a
proof that, notwithstanding the machinations of his enemies, and the
cruel punishment to which they had led him, loyalty to his sovereign was
as deeply rooted and as religious a sentiment in his bosom as devotion to
his God. "Thou wilt prolong the King's life; and his years as many
generations. He shall abide before God for ever! O prepare mercy and
truth which may preserve him." Such was the remarkable prayer of the
condemned traitor on his way to the block.
Having ascended the scaffold, he walked across it twice or thrice. He was
dressed in a tabard or robe of red damask, over which was thrown a short
black mantle, embroidered in gold. He had a black silk hat, with black
and white plumes, on his head, and held a handkerchief in his hand. As he
strode to and fro, he expressed a bitter regret that he had not been
permitted to die, sword in hand, fighting for his country and his king.
Sanguine to the last, he passionately asked Romero, whether the sentence
was really irrevocable, whether a pardon was not even then to be granted.
The marshal shrugged his shoulders, murmuring a negative reply. Upon
this, Egmont gnashed his teeth together, rather in rage than despair.
Shortly afterward commanding himself again, he threw aside his robe and
mantle, and took the badge of the Golden Fleece from his neck. Kneeling,
then, upon one of the cushions, he said the Lord's Prayer aloud, and
requested the Bishop, who knelt at his side, to repeat it thrice. After
this, the prelate gave him the silver crucifix to kiss, and then
pronounced his blessing upon him. This done, the Count rose again to his
feet, laid aside his hat and handkerchief, knelt again upon the cushion,
drew a little cap over his eyes, and, folding his hands together, cried
with a loud voice, "Lord, into Thy hands I commit my spirit." The
executioner then suddenly appeared, and severed his head from his
shoulders at a single blow.
A moment of shuddering silence succeeded the stroke. The whole vast
assembly seemed to have felt it in their own hearts. Tears fell from the
eyes even of the Spanish soldiery, for they knew and honored Egmont as a
valiant general. The French embassador, Mondoucet, looking upon the scene
from a secret place, whispered that he had now seen the head fall before
which France had twice trembled. Tears were even seen upon the iron cheek
of Alva, as, from a window in a house directly opposite the scaffold, he
looked out upon the scene.
A dark cloth was now quickly thrown over the body and the blood, and,
within a few minutes, the Admiral was seen advancing through the crowd.
His bald head was uncovered, his hands were unbound. He calmly saluted
such of his acquaintances as he chanced to recognize upon his path. Under
a black cloak, which he threw off when he had ascended the scaffold, he
wore a plain, dark doublet, and he did not, like Egmont, wear the
insignia of the Fleece. Casting his eyes upon the corpse, which lay
covered with the dark cloth, he asked if it were the body of Egmont.
Being answered in the affirmative, he muttered a few words in Spanish,
which were not distinctly audible. His attention was next caught by the
sight of his own coat of arms reversed, and he expressed anger at this
indignity to his escutcheon, protesting that he had not deserved the
insult. He then spoke a few words to the crowd below, wishing them
happiness, and begging them to pray for his soul. He did not kiss the
crucifix, but he knelt upon the scaffold to pray, and was assisted in his
devotions by the Bishop of Ypres. When they were concluded, he rose again
to his feet. Then drawing a Milan cap completely over his face, and
uttering, in Latin, the same invocation which Egmont had used, he
submitted his neck to the stroke.
Egmont had obtained, as a last favor, that his execution should precede
that of his friend. Deeming himself in part to blame for Horn's
reappearance in Brussels after the arrival of Alva, and for his, death,
which was the result, he wished to be spared the pang of seeing him dead.
Gemma Frisius, the astrologer who had cast the horoscope of Count Horn at
his birth, had come to him in the most solemn manner to warn him against
visiting Brussels. The Count had answered stoutly that he placed his
trust in God, and that, moreover, his friend Egmont was going thither
also, who had engaged that no worse fate should befal the one of them
than the other.
The heads of both sufferers were now exposed for two hours upon the iron
stakes. Their bodies, placed in coffins, remained during the same
interval upon the scaffold. Meantime, notwithstanding the presence of the
troops, the populace could not be restrained from tears and from
execrations. Many crowded about the scaffold, and dipped their
handkerchiefs in the blood, to be preserved afterwards as memorials of
the crime and as ensigns of revenge.
The bodies were afterwards delivered to their friends. A stately
procession of the guilds, accompanied by many of the clergy, conveyed
their coffins to the church of Saint Gudule. Thence the body of Egmont
was carried to the convent of Saint Clara, near the old Brussels gate,
where it was embalmed. His escutcheon and banners were hung upon the
outward wall of his residence, by order of the Countess. By command of
Alva they were immediately torn down. His remains were afterwards
conveyed to his city of Sottegem, in Flanders, where they were interred.
Count Horn was entombed at Kempen. The bodies had been removed from the
scaffold at two o'clock. The heads remained exposed between burning
torches for two hours longer. They were then taken down, enclosed in
boxes, and, as it was generally supposed, despatched to Madrid. The King
was thus enabled to look upon the dead faces of his victims without the
trouble of a journey to the provinces.
Thus died Philip Montmorency, Count of Horn, and Lamoral of Egmont,
Prince of Gaveren. The more intense sympathy which seemed to attach
itself to the fate of Egmont, rendered the misfortune of his companion in
arms and in death comparatively less interesting.
Egmont is a great historical figure, but he was certainly not a great
man. His execution remains an enduring monument not only of Philip's
cruelty and perfidy but of his dullness. The King had everything to hope
from Egmont and nothing to fear. Granvelle knew the man well, and, almost
to the last, could not believe in the possibility of so unparalleled a
blunder as that which was to make a victim, a martyr, and a popular idol
of a personage brave indeed, but incredibly vacillating and inordinately
vain, who, by a little management, might have been converted into a most
useful instrument for the royal purposes.
It is not necessary to recapitulate the events of Egmont's career. Step
by step we have studied his course, and at no single period have we
discovered even a germ of those elements which make the national
champion. His pride of order rendered him furious at the insolence of
Granvelle, and caused him to chafe under his dominion. His vanity of high
rank and of distinguished military service made him covet the highest
place under the Crown, while his hatred of those by whom he considered
himself defrauded of his claims, converted him into a malcontent. He had
no sympathy with the people, but he loved, as a grand Seignior, to be
looked up to and admired by a gaping crowd. He was an unwavering
Catholic, held sectaries in utter loathing, and, after the
image-breaking, took a positive pleasure in hanging ministers, together
with their congregations, and in pressing the besieged Christians of
Valenciennes to extremities. Upon more than one occasion he pronounced
his unequivocal approval of the infamous edicts, and he exerted himself
at times to enforce them within his province. The transitory impression
made upon his mind by the lofty nature of Orange was easily effaced in
Spain by court flattery and by royal bribes. Notwithstanding the
coldness, the rebuffs, and the repeated warnings which might have saved
him from destruction, nothing could turn him at last from the fanatic
loyalty towards which, after much wavering, his mind irrevocably pointed.
His voluntary humiliation as a general, a grandee, a Fleming, and a
Christian before the insolent Alva upon his first arrival, would move our
contempt were it not for the gentler emotions suggested by the infatuated
nobleman's doom. Upon the departure of Orange, Egmont was only too eager
to be employed by Philip in any work which the monarch could find for him
to do. Yet this was the man whom Philip chose, through the executioner's
sword, to convert into a popular idol, and whom Poetry has loved to
contemplate as a romantic champion of freedom.
As for Horn, details enough have likewise been given of his career to
enable the reader thoroughly to understand the man. He was a person of
mediocre abilities and thoroughly commonplace character. His high rank
and his tragic fate are all which make him interesting. He had little
love for court or people. Broken in fortunes, he passed his time mainly
in brooding over the ingratitude of Charles and Philip, and in
complaining bitterly of the disappointments to which their policy had
doomed him. He cared nothing for Cardinalists or confederates. He
disliked Brederode, he detested Granvelle. Gloomy and morose, he went to
bed, while the men who were called his fellow-conspirators were dining
and making merry in the same house with himself: He had as little
sympathy with the cry of "Vivent les gueux" as for that of "Vive le Roy."
The most interesting features in his character are his generosity toward
his absent brother and the manliness with which, as Montigny's
representative at Tournay, he chose rather to confront the anger of the
government, and to incur the deadly revenge of Philip, than make himself
the executioner of the harmless Christians in Tournay. In this regard,
his conduct is vastly more entitled to our respect than that of Egmont,
and he was certainly more deserving of reverence from the people, even
though deserted by all men while living, and left headless and solitary
in his coffin at Saint Gudule.
The hatred for Alva, which sprang from the graves of these illustrious
victims, waxed daily more intense. "Like things of another world," wrote
Hoogstraaten, "seem the cries, lamentations, and just compassion which
all the inhabitants of Brussels, noble or ignoble, feel for such
barbarous tyranny, while this Nero of an Alva is boasting that he will do
the same to all whom he lays his hands upon." No man believed that the
two nobles had committed a crime, and many were even disposed to acquit
Philip of his share in the judicial murder. The people ascribed the
execution solely to the personal jealousy of the Duke. They discoursed to
each other not only of the envy with which the Governor-general had
always regarded the military triumphs of his rival, but related that
Egmont had at different times won large sums of Alva at games of hazard,
and that he had moreover, on several occasions, carried off the prize
from the Duke in shooting at the popinjay. Nevertheless, in spite of all
these absurd rumors, there is no doubt that Philip and Alva must share
equally in the guilt of the transaction, and that the "chastisement" had
been arranged before Alva had departed from Spain.
The Countess Egmont remained at the convent of Cambre with her eleven
children, plunged in misery and in poverty. The Duke wrote to Philip,
that he doubted if there were so wretched a family in the world. He, at
the same time, congratulated his sovereign on the certainty that the more
intense the effects, the more fruitful would be the example of this great
execution. He stated that the Countess was considered a most saintly
woman, and that there had been scarcely a night in which, attended by her
daughters, she had not gone forth bare-footed to offer up prayers for her
husband in every church within the city. He added, that it was doubtful
whether they had money enough to buy themselves a supper that very night,
and he begged the King to allow them the means of supporting life. He
advised that the Countess should be placed, without delay in a Spanish
convent, where her daughters might at once take the veil, assuring his
Majesty that her dower was entirely inadequate to her support. Thus
humanely recommending his sovereign to bestow an alms on the family which
his own hand had reduced from a princely station to beggary, the Viceroy
proceeded to detail the recent events in Friesland, together with the
measures which he was about taking to avenge the defeat and death of
Count Aremberg.