Preparations of the Duke against Count Louis--Precarious situation
of Louis in Friesland--Timidity of the inhabitants--Alva in
Friesland--Skirmishing near Groningen--Retreat of the patriots--
Error committed by Louis--His position at Jemmingen--Mutinous
demonstrations of his troops--Louis partially restores order--
Attempt to destroy the dykes interrupted by the arrival of Alva's
forces--Artful strategy of the Duke--Defeat of Count Louis and utter
destruction of his army--Outrages committed by the Spaniards--Alva
at Utrecht--Execution of Vrow van Diemen--Episode of Don Carlos--
Fables concerning him and Queen Isabella--Mystery, concerning his
death--Secret letters of Philip to the Pope--The one containing the
truth of the transaction still concealed in the Vatican--Case
against Philip as related by Mathieu, De Thou, and others--Testimony
in the King's favor by the nuncio, the Venetian envoy, and others--
Doubtful state of the question--Anecdotes concerning Don Carlos--His
character.
Those measures were taken with the precision and promptness which marked
the Duke's character, when precision and promptness were desirable. There
had been a terrible energy in his every step, since the successful foray
of Louis Nassau. Having determined to take the field in person with
nearly all the Spanish veterans, he had at once acted upon the necessity
of making the capital secure, after his back should be turned. It was
impossible to leave three thousand choice troops to guard Count Egmont. A
less number seemed insufficient to prevent a rescue. He had, therefore,
no longer delayed the chastisement which had already been determined, but
which the events in the north had precipitated. Thus the only positive
result of Louis Nassau's victory was the execution of his imprisoned
friends.
The expedition under Aremberg had failed from two causes. The Spanish
force had been inadequate, and they had attacked the enemy at a
disadvantage. The imprudent attack was the result of the contempt with
which they had regarded their antagonist. These errors were not to be
repeated. Alva ordered Count Meghem, now commanding in the province of
Groningen, on no account to hazard hostilities until the game was sure.
He also immediately ordered large reinforcements to move forward to the
seat of war. The commanders intrusted with this duty were Duke Eric of
Brunswick, Chiappin Vitelli, Noircarmes, and Count de Roeulx. The
rendezvous for the whole force was Deventer, and here they all arrived on
the 10th July. On the same day the Duke of Alva himself entered Deventer,
to take command in person. On the evening of the 14th July he reached
Rolden, a village three leagues distant from Groningen, at the head of
three terzios of Spanish infantry, three companies of light horse, and a
troop of dragoons. His whole force in and about Groningen amounted to
fifteen thousand choice troops besides a large but uncertain number of
less disciplined soldiery.
Meantime, Louis of Nassau, since his victory, had accomplished nothing.
For this inactivity there was one sufficient excuse, the total want of
funds. His only revenue was the amount of black mail which he was able to
levy upon the inhabitants of the province. He repeated his determination
to treat them all as enemies, unless they furnished him with the means of
expelling their tyrants from the country. He obtained small sums in this
manner from time to time. The inhabitants were favorably disposed, but
they were timid and despairing. They saw no clear way towards the
accomplishment of the result concerning which Louis was so confident.
They knew that the terrible Alva was already on his way. They felt sure
of being pillaged by both parties, and of being hanged as rebels,
besides, as soon as the Governor-general should make his appearance.
Louis had, however, issued two formal proclamations for two especial
contributions. In these documents he had succinctly explained that the
houses of all recusants should be forthwith burned about their ears, and
in consequence of these peremptory measures, he had obtained some ten
thousand florins. Alva ordered counter-proclamations to be affixed to
church doors and other places, forbidding all persons to contribute to
these forced loans of the rebels, on penalty of paying twice as much to
the Spaniards, with arbitrary punishment in addition, after his arrival.
The miserable inhabitants, thus placed between two fires, had nothing for
it but to pay one-half of their property to support the rebellion in the
first place, with the prospect of giving the other half as a subsidy to
tyranny afterwards; while the gibbet stood at the end of the vista to
reward their liberality. Such was the horrible position of the peasantry
in this civil conflict. The weight of guilt thus accumulated upon the
crowned head which conceived, and upon the red right hand which wrought
all this misery, what human scales can measure?
With these precarious means of support, the army of Louis of Nassau, as
may easily be supposed, was anything but docile. After the victory of
Heiliger Lee there had seemed to his German mercenaries a probability of
extensive booty, which grew fainter as the slender fruit of that battle
became daily more apparent. The two abbots of Wittewerum and of Heiliger
Lee, who had followed Aremberg's train in order to be witnesses of his
victory, had been obliged to pay to the actual conqueror a heavy price
for the entertainment to which they had invited themselves, and these
sums, together with the amounts pressed from the reluctant estates, and
the forced contributions paid by luckless peasants, enabled him to keep
his straggling troops together a few weeks longer. Mutiny, however, was
constantly breaking out, and by the eloquent expostulations and vague
promises of the Count, was with difficulty suppressed.
He had, for a few weeks immediately succeeding the battle, distributed
his troops in three different stations. On the approach of the Duke,
however, he hastily concentrated his whole force at his own strongly
fortified camp, within half cannon shot of Groningen. His army, such as
it was, numbered from 10,000 to 12,000 men. Alva reached Groningen early
in the morning, and without pausing a moment, marched his troops directly
through the city. He then immediately occupied an entrenched and
fortified house, from which it was easy to inflict damage upon the camp.
This done, the Duke, with a few attendants, rode forward to reconnoitre
the enemy in person. He found him in a well fortified position, having
the river on his front, which served as a moat to his camp, and with a
deep trench three hundred yards beyond, in addition. Two wooden bridges
led across the river; each was commanded by a fortified house, in which
was a provision of pine torches, ready at a moment's warning, to set fire
to the bridges. Having thus satisfied himself, the Duke rode back to his
army, which had received strict orders not to lift a finger till his
return. He then despatched a small force of five hundred musketeers,
under Robles, to skirmish with the enemy, and, if possible, to draw them
from their trenches.
The troops of Louis, however, showed no greediness to engage. On the
contrary, it soon became evident that their dispositions were of an
opposite tendency. The Count himself, not at that moment trusting his
soldiery, who were in an extremely mutinous condition, was desirous of
falling back before his formidable antagonist. The Duke, faithful,
however, to his life-long principles, had no intentions of precipitating
the action in those difficult and swampy regions. The skirmishing,
therefore, continued for many hours, an additional force of 1000 men
being detailed from the Spanish army. The day was very sultry, however,
the enemy reluctant, and the whole action languid. At last, towards
evening, a large body, tempted beyond their trenches, engaged warmly with
the Spaniards. The combat lasted but a few minutes, the patriots were
soon routed, and fled precipitately back to their camp. The panic spread
with them, and the whole army was soon in retreat. On retiring, they had,
however, set fire to the bridges, and thus secured an advantage at the
outset of the chase. The Spaniards were no longer to be held. Vitelli
obtained permission to follow with 2000 additional troops. The fifteen
hundred who had already been engaged, charged furiously upon their
retreating foes. Some dashed across the blazing bridges, with their
garments and their very beards on fire. Others sprang into the river.
Neither fire nor water could check the fierce pursuit. The cavalry
dismounting, drove their horses into the stream, and clinging to their
tails, pricked the horses forward with their lances. Having thus been
dragged across, they joined their comrades in the mad chase along the
narrow dykes, and through the swampy and almost impassable country where
the rebels were seeking shelter. The approach of night, too soon
advancing, at last put an end to the hunt. The Duke with difficulty
recalled his men, and compelled them to restrain their eagerness until
the morrow. Three hundred of the patriots were left dead upon the field,
besides at least an equal number who perished in the river and canals.
The army of Louis was entirely routed, and the Duke considered it
virtually destroyed. He wrote to the state council that he should pursue
them the next day, but doubted whether he should find anybody to talk
with him. In this the Governor-general soon found himself delightfully
disappointed.
Five days later, the Duke arrived at Reyden, on the Ems. Owing to the
unfavorable disposition of the country people, who were willing to
protect the fugitives by false information to their pursuers, he was
still in doubt as to the position then occupied by the enemy. He had been
fearful that they would be found at this very village of Reyden. It was a
fatal error on the part of Count Louis that they were not. Had he made a
stand at this point, he might have held out a long time. The bridge which
here crossed the river would have afforded him a retreat into Germany at
any moment, and the place was easily to be defended in front. Thus he
might have maintained himself against his fierce but wary foe, while his
brother Orange, who was at Strasburg watching the progress of events, was
executing his own long-planned expedition into the heart of the
Netherlands. With Alva thus occupied in Friesland, the results of such an
invasion might have been prodigious. It was, however, not on the cards
for that campaign. The mutinous disposition of the mercenaries under his
command had filled Louis with doubt and disgust. Bold and sanguine, but
always too fiery and impatient, he saw not much possibility of paying his
troops any longer with promises. Perhaps he was not unwilling to place
them in a position where they would be obliged to fight or to perish. At
any rate, such was their present situation. Instead of halting at Reyden,
he had made his stand at Jemmingen, about four leagues distant from that
place, and a little further down the river. Alva discovered this
important fact soon after his arrival at Reyden, and could not conceal
his delight. Already exulting at the error made by his adversary, in
neglecting the important position which he now occupied himself, he was
doubly delighted at learning the nature of the place which he had in
preference selected. He saw that Louis had completely entrapped himself.
Jemmingen was a small town on the left bank of the Ems. The stream here
very broad and deep, is rather a tide inlet than a river, being but a
very few miles from the Dollart. This circular bay, or ocean chasm, the
result of the violent inundation of the 13th century, surrounds, with the
river, a narrow peninsula. In the corner of this peninsula, as in the
bottom of a sack, Louis had posted his army. His infantry, as usual, was
drawn up in two large squares, and still contained ten thousand men. The
rear rested upon the village, the river was upon his left; his meagre
force of cavalry upon the right. In front were two very deep trenches.
The narrow road, which formed the only entrance to his camp, was guarded
by a ravelin on each side, and by five pieces of artillery.
The Duke having reconnoitred the enemy in person, rode back, satisfied
that no escape was possible. The river was too deep and too wide for
swimming or wading, and there were but very few boats. Louis was shut up
between twelve thousand Spanish veterans and the river Ems. The rebel
army, although not insufficient in point of numbers, was in a state of
disorganization. They were furious for money and reluctant to fight. They
broke out into open mutiny upon the very verge of battle, and swore that
they would instantly disband, if the gold, which, as they believed, had
been recently brought into the camp, were not immediately distributed
among them. Such was the state of things on the eventful morning of the
21st July. All the expostulations of Count Louis seemed powerless. His
eloquence and his patience, both inferior to his valor, were soon
exhausted. He peremptorily, refused the money for which they clamored,
giving the most cogent of all reasons, an empty coffer. He demonstrated
plainly that they were in that moment to make their election, whether to
win a victory or to submit to a massacre. Neither flight nor surrender
was possible. They knew how much quarter they could expect from the
lances of the Spaniards or the waters of the Dollart. Their only chance
of salvation lay in their own swords. The instinct of self-preservation,
thus invoked, exerted a little of its natural effect.
Meantime, a work which had been too long neglected, was then, if
possible, to be performed. In that watery territory, the sea was only
held in check by artificial means. In a very short time, by the
demolition of a few dykes and the opening of a few sluices, the whole
country through which the Spaniards had to pass could be laid under
water. Believing it yet possible to enlist the ocean in his defence,
Louis, having partially reduced his soldiers to obedience, ordered a
strong detachment upon this important service. Seizing a spade, he
commenced the work himself, and then returned to set his army in battle
array. Two or three tide gates had been opened, two or three bridges had
been demolished, when Alva, riding in advance of his army, appeared
within a mile or two of Jemmingen. It was then eight o'clock in the
morning. The patriots redoubled their efforts. By ten o'clock the waters
were already knee high, and in some places as deep as to the waist. At
that hour, the advanced guard of the Spaniards arrived. Fifteen hundred
musketeers were immediately ordered forward by the Duke. They were
preceded by a company of mounted carabineers, attended by a small band of
volunteers of distinction. This little band threw themselves at once upon
the troops engaged in destroying the dykes. The rebels fled at the first
onset, and the Spaniards closed the gates. Feeling the full importance of
the moment, Count Louis ordered a large force of musketeers to recover
the position, and to complete the work of inundation. It was too late.
The little band of Spaniards held the post with consummate tenacity.
Charge after charge, volley after volley, from the overwhelming force
brought against them, failed to loosen the fierce grip with which they
held this key to the whole situation. Before they could be driven from
the dykes, their comrades arrived, when all their antagonists at once
made a hurried retreat to their camp.
Very much the same tactics were now employed by the Duke, as in the
engagement near Selwaert Abbey. He was resolved that this affair, also,
should be a hunt, not a battle; but foresaw that it was to be a more
successful one. There was no loophole of escape, so that after a little
successful baiting, the imprisoned victims would be forced to spring from
their lurking-place, to perish upon his spears. On his march from Reyden
that morning, he had taken care to occupy every farm-house, every
building of whatever description along the road, with his troops. He had
left a strong guard on the bridge at Reyden, and had thus closed
carefully every avenue. The same fifteen hundred musketeers were now
advanced further towards the camp. This small force, powerfully but
secretly sustained, was to feel the enemy; to skirmish with him, and to
draw him as soon as possible out of his trenches. The plan succeeded.
Gradually the engagements between them and the troops sent out by Count
Louis grew more earnest. Finding so insignificant a force opposed to
them, the mutinous rebels took courage. The work waged hot. Lodrono and
Romero, commanders of the musketeers, becoming alarmed, sent to the Duke
for reinforcements. He sent back word in reply, that if they were not
enough to damage the enemy, they could, at least, hold their own for the
present. So much he had a right to expect of Spanish soldiers. At any
rate, he should send no reinforcements.
Again they were more warmly pressed; again their messenger returned with
the same reply. A third time they send the most urgent entreaties for
succour. The Duke was still inexorable.
Meantime the result of this scientific angling approached. By noon the
rebels, not being able to see how large a portion of the Spanish army had
arrived, began to think the affair not so serious. Count Louis sent out a
reconnoitring party upon the river in a few boats. They returned without
having been able to discover any large force. It seemed probable,
therefore, that the inundation had been more successful in stopping their
advance than had been supposed. Louis, always too rash, inflamed his men
with temporary enthusiasm. Determined to cut their way out by one
vigorous movement, the whole army at last marched forth from their
entrenchments, with drums beating, colors flying; but already the
concealed reinforcements of their enemies were on the spot. The patriots
met with a warmer reception than they had expected. Their courage
evaporated. Hardly had they advanced three hundred yards, when the whole
body wavered and then retreated precipitately towards the encampment,
having scarcely exchanged a shot with the enemy. Count Louis, in a frenzy
of rage and despair, flew from rank to rank, in vain endeavouring to
rally his terror-stricken troops. It was hopeless. The battery which
guarded the road was entirely deserted. He rushed to the cannon himself,
and fired them all with his own hand. It was their first and last
discharge. His single arm, however bold, could not turn the tide of
battle, and he was swept backwards with his coward troops. In a moment
afterwards, Don Lope de Figueroa, who led the van of the Spaniards,
dashed upon the battery, and secured it, together with the ravelins.
Their own artillery was turned against the rebels, and the road was soon
swept. The Spaniards in large numbers now rushed through the trenches in
pursuit of the retreating foe. No resistance was offered, nor quarter
given. An impossible escape was all which was attempted. It was not a
battle, but a massacre. Many of the beggars in their flight threw down
their arms; all had forgotten their use. Their antagonists butchered them
in droves, while those who escaped the sword were hurled into the river.
Seven Spaniards were killed, and seven thousand rebels.
[Letter of Alva to the Council of State. Correspondanee du Duc
d'Albe, 158. The same letter is published in Igor, iv. 245, 246.
All writers allow seven thousand to have been killed on the patriot
side, and--the number of Spaniards slain is not estimated at more
than eighty, even by the patriotic Meteren, 55. Compare Bor, iv.
245-246; Herrera, av. 696; Hoofd, v, 176, and Mendoza, 72.]
The swift ebb-tide swept the hats of the perishing wretches in such
numbers down the stream, that the people at Embden knew the result of the
battle in an incredibly short period of time. The skirmishing had lasted
from ten o'clock till one, but the butchery continued much longer. It
took time to slaughter even unresisting victims. Large numbers obtained
refuge for the night upon an island in the river. At low water next day
the Spaniards waded to them, and slew every man. Many found concealment
in hovels, swamps, and thickets, so that the whole of the following day
was occupied in ferreting out and despatching them. There was so much to
be done, that there was work enough for all. "Not a soldier," says, with
great simplicity, a Spanish historian who fought in the battle, "not a
soldier, nor even a lad, who wished to share in the victory, but could
find somebody to wound, to kill, to burn, or to drown." The wounding,
killing, burning, drowning lasted two days, and very few escaped. The
landward pursuit extended for three or four leagues around, so that the
roads and pastures were covered with bodies, with corslets, and other
weapons. Count Louis himself stripped off his clothes, and made his
escape, when all was over, by swimming across the Ems. With the paltry
remnant of his troops he again took refuge in Germany.
The Spanish army, two days afterwards, marched back to Groningen. The
page which records their victorious campaign is foul with outrage and red
with blood. None of the horrors which accompany the passage of hostile
troops through a defenceless country were omitted. Maids and matrons were
ravished in multitudes; old men butchered in cold blood. As Alva
returned, with the rear-guard of his army, the whole sky was red with a
constant conflagration; the very earth seemed changed to ashes. Every
peasant's hovel, every farm-house, every village upon the road had been
burned to the ground. So gross and so extensive had been the outrage,
that the commander-in-chief felt it due to his dignity to hang some of
his own soldiers who had most distinguished themselves in this work. Thus
ended the campaign of Count Louis in Friesland. Thus signally and
terribly had the Duke of Alva vindicated the supremacy of Spanish
discipline and of his own military skill.
On his return to Groningen, the estates were summoned, and received a
severe lecture for their suspicious demeanour in regard to the rebellion.
In order more effectually to control both province and city, the
Governor-general ordered the construction of a strong fortress, which was
soon begun but never completed. Having thus furnished himself with a key
to this important and doubtful region, he returned by way of Amsterdam to
Utrecht. There he was met by his son Frederic with strong reinforcements.
The Duke reviewed his whole army, and found himself at the head of 30,000
infantry and 7,000 cavalry. Having fully subdued the province, he had no
occupation for such a force, but he improved the opportunity by cutting
off the head of an old woman in Utrecht. The Vrow van Diemen, eighteen
months previously, had given the preacher Arendsoon a night's lodging in
her house. The crime had, in fact, been committed by her son-in-law, who
dwelt under her roof, and who had himself, without her participation,
extended this dangerous hospitality to a heretic; but the old lady,
although a devout Catholic, was rich. Her execution would strike a
wholesome terror into the hearts of her neighbours. The confiscation of
her estates would bring a handsome sum into the government coffers. It
would be made manifest that the same hand which could destroy an army of
twelve thousand rebels at a blow could inflict as signal punishment on
the small delinquencies of obscure individuals. The old lady, who was
past eighty-four years of age, was placed in a chair upon the scaffold.
She met her death with heroism, and treated her murderers with contempt.
"I understand very well," she observed, "why my death is considered
necessary. The calf is fat and must be killed." To the executioner she
expressed a hope that his sword was sufficiently sharp, "as he was likely
to find her old neck very tough." With this grisly parody upon the
pathetic dying words of Anne Boleyn, the courageous old gentlewoman
submitted to her fate.
The tragedy of Don Carlos does not strictly belong to our subject, which
is the rise of the Netherland commonwealth--not the decline of the
Spanish monarchy, nor the life of Philip the Second. The thread is but
slender which connects the unhappy young prince with the fortunes of the
northern republic. He was said, no doubt with truth, to desire the
government of Flanders. He was also supposed to be in secret
correspondence with the leaders of the revolt in the provinces. He
appeared, however, to possess very little of their confidence. His name
is only once mentioned by William of Orange, who said in a letter that
"the Prince of Spain had lately eaten sixteen pounds of fruit, including
four pounds of grapes at a single sitting, and had become ill in
consequence." The result was sufficiently natural, but it nowhere appears
that the royal youth, born to consume the fruits of the earth so largely,
had ever given the Netherlanders any other proof of his capacity to
govern them. There is no doubt that he was a most uncomfortable personage
at home, both to himself and to others, and that he hated his father'
very cordially. He was extremely incensed at the nomination of Alva to
the Netherlands, because he had hoped that either the King would go
thither or entrust the mission to him, in either of which events he
should be rid for a time of the paternal authority, or at least of the
paternal presence. It seems to be well ascertained that Carlos nourished
towards his father a hatred which might lead to criminal attempts, but
there is no proof that such attempts were ever made. As to the fabulous
amours of the Prince and the Queen, they had never any existence save in
the imagination of poets, who have chosen to find a source of sentimental
sorrow for the Infante in the arbitrary substitution of his father for
himself in the marriage contract with the daughter of Henry the Second.
As Carlos was but twelve or thirteen years of age when thus deprived of a
bride whom he had never seen, the foundation for a passionate regret was
but slight. It would hardly be a more absurd fantasy, had the poets
chosen to represent Philip's father, the Emperor Charles, repining in his
dotage for the loss of "bloody Mary," whom he had so handsomely ceded to
his son. Philip took a bad old woman to relieve his father; he took a
fair young princess at his son's expense; but similar changes in state
marriages were such matters of course, that no emotions were likely to be
created in consequence. There is no proof whatever, nor any reason to
surmise; that any love passages ever existed between Don Carlos and his
step-mother.
As to the process and the death of the Prince, the mystery has not yet
been removed, and the field is still open to conjecture. It seems a
thankless task to grope in the dark after the truth at a variety of
sources; when the truth really exists in tangible shape if profane hands
could be laid upon it. The secret is buried in the bosom of the Vatican.
Philip wrote two letters on the subject to Pius V. The contents of the
first (21st January, 1568) are known. He informed the pontiff that he had
been obliged to imprison his son, and promised that he would, in the
conduct of the affair, omit nothing which could be expected of a father
and of a just and prudent king. The second letter, in which he narrated,
or is supposed to have narrated, the whole course of the tragic
proceedings, down to the death and burial of the Prince, has never yet
been made public. There are hopes that this secret missive, after three
centuries of darkness, may soon see the light.--[I am assured by Mr.
Gachard that a copy of this important letter is confidently expected by
the Commission Royale d'Histoire.]
As Philip generally told the truth to the Pope, it is probable that the
secret, when once revealed, will contain the veritable solution of the
mystery. Till that moment arrives, it seems idle to attempt fathoming the
matter. Nevertheless, it may be well briefly to state the case as it
stands. As against the King, it rests upon no impregnable, but certainly
upon respectable authority. The Prince of Orange, in his famous Apology,
calls Philip the murderer of his wife and of his son, and says that there
was proof of the facts in France. He alludes to the violent death of
Carlos almost as if it were an indisputable truth. "As for Don Charles,"
he says, "was he not our future sovereign? And if the father could allege
against his son fit cause for death, was it not rather for us to judge
him than for three or four monks or inquisitors of Spain?"
The historian, P. Matthieu, relates that Philip assembled his council of
conscience; that they recommended mercy; that hereupon Philip gave the
matter to the inquisition, by which tribunal Carlos was declared a
heretic on account of his connexion with Protestants, and for his attempt
against his father's life was condemned to death, and that the sentence
was executed by four slaves, two holding the arms, one the feet, while
the fourth strangled him.
De Thou gives the following account of the transaction, having derived
many of his details from the oral communications of Louis de Foix:
Philip imagined that his son was about to escape from Spain, and to make
his way to the Netherlands. The King also believed himself in danger of
assassination from Carlos, his chief evidence being that the Prince
always carried pistols in the pockets of his loose breeches. As Carlos
wished always to be alone at night without any domestic in his chamber,
de Foix had arranged for him a set of pulleys, by means of which he could
open or shut his door without rising from his bed. He always slept with
two pistols and two drawn swords under his pillow, and had two loaded
arquebusses in a wardrobe close at hand. These remarkable precautions
would seem rather to indicate a profound fear of being himself
assassinated; but they were nevertheless supposed to justify Philip's
suspicions, that the Infante was meditating parricide. On Christmas eve,
however (1567), Don Carlos told his confessor that he had determined to
kill a man. The priest, in consequence, refused to admit him to the
communion. The Prince demanded, at least, a wafer which was not
consecrated, in order that he might seem to the people to be
participating in the sacrament. The confessor declined the proposal, and
immediately repairing to the King, narrated the whole story. Philip
exclaimed that he was himself the man whom the Prince intended to kill,
but that measures should be forthwith taken to prevent such a design. The
monarch then consulted the Holy Office of the inquisition, and the
resolution was taken to arrest his son. De Foix was compelled to alter
the pulleys of the door to the Prince's chamber in such a manner that it
could be opened without the usual noise, which was almost sure to awaken
him. At midnight, accordingly, Count Lerma entered the room so stealthily
that the arms were all, removed from the Prince's pillow and the
wardrobe, without awakening the sleeper. Philip, Ruy Gomez, the Duke de
Feria, and two other nobles, then noiselessly, crept into the apartment.
Carlos still slept so profoundly that it was necessary for Derma to shake
him violently by the arm before he could be aroused. Starting from his
sleep in the dead of night, and seeing his father thus accompanied,
before his bed, the Prince cried out that he was a dead man, and
earnestly besought the bystanders to make an end of him at once. Philip
assured him, however, that he was not come to kill him, but to chastise
him paternally, and to recal him to his duty. He then read him a serious
lecture, caused him to rise from his bed, took away his servants, and
placed him under guard. He was made to array himself in mourning
habiliments, and to sleep on a truckle bed. The Prince was in despair. He
soon made various attempts upon his own life. He threw himself into the
fire, but was rescued by his guards, with his clothes all in flames. He
passed several days without taking any food, and then ate so many patties
of minced meat that he nearly died of indigestion. He was also said to
have attempted to choke himself with a diamond, and to have been
prevented by his guard; to have filled his bed with ice; to have sat in
cold draughts; to have gone eleven days without food, the last method
being, as one would think, sufficiently thorough. Philip, therefore,
seeing his son thus desperate, consulted once more with the Holy Office,
and came to the decision that it was better to condemn him legitimately
to death than to permit him to die by his own hand. In order, however, to
save appearances, the order was secretly carried into execution. Don
Carlos was made to swallow poison in a bowl of broth, of which he died in
a few hours. This was at the commencement of his twenty-third year. The
death was concealed for several months, and was not made public till
after Alva's victory at Jemmingen.
Such was the account drawn up by de Thou from the oral communications of
de Foix, and from other sources not indicated. Certainly, such a
narrative is far from being entitled to implicit credence. The historian
was a contemporary, but he was not in Spain, and the engineer's testimony
is, of course, not entitled to much consideration on the subject of the
process and the execution (if there were an execution); although
conclusive as to matters which had been within his personal knowledge.
For the rest, all that it can be said to establish is the existence of
the general rumor, that Carlos came to his death by foul means and in
consequence of advice given by the inquisition.
On the other hand, in all the letters written at the period by persons in
Madrid most likely, from their position, to know the truth, not a
syllable has been found in confirmation of the violent death said to have
been suffered by Carlos. Secretary Erasso, the papal nuncio Castagna, the
Venetian envoy Cavalli, all express a conviction that the death of the
prince had been brought about by his own extravagant conduct and mental
excitement; by alternations of starving and voracious eating, by throwing
himself into the fire; by icing his bed, and by similar acts of
desperation. Nearly every writer alludes to the incident of the refusal
of the priest to admit Carlos to communion, upon the ground of his
confessed deadly hatred to an individual whom all supposed to be the
King. It was also universally believed that Carlos meant to kill his
father. The nuncio asked Spinosa (then president of Castile) if this
report were true. "If nothing more were to be feared," answered the
priest, "the King would protect himself by other measures," but the
matter was worse, if worse could be. The King, however, summoned all the
foreign diplomatic body and assured them that the story was false. After
his arrest, the Prince, according to Castagna, attempted various means of
suicide, abstaining, at last, many days from food, and dying in
consequence, "discoursing, upon his deathbed, gravely and like a man of
sense."
The historian Cabrera, official panegyrist of Philip the Second, speaks
of the death of Carlos as a natural one, but leaves a dark kind of
mystery about the symptoms of his disease. He states, that the Prince was
tried and condemned by a commission or junta, consisting of Spinosa, Ruy
Gomez, and the Licentiate Virviesca, but that he was carried off by an
illness, the nature of which he does not describe.
Llorente found nothing in the records of the Inquisition to prove that
the Holy Office had ever condemned the Prince or instituted any process
against him. He states that he was condemned by a commission, but that he
died of a sickness which supervened. It must be confessed that the
illness was a convenient one, and that such diseases are very apt to
attack individuals whom tyrants are disposed to remove from their path,
while desirous, at the same time, to save appearances. It would certainly
be presumptuous to accept implicitly the narrative of de Thou, which is
literally followed by Hoofd and by many modern writers. On the other
hand, it would be an exaggeration of historical scepticism to absolve
Philip from the murder of his son, solely upon negative testimony. The
people about court did not believe in the crime. They saw no proofs of
it. Of course they saw none. Philip would take good care that there
should be none if he had made up his mind that the death of the Prince
should be considered a natural one. And priori argument, which omits the
character of the suspected culprit, and the extraordinary circumstances
of time and place, is not satisfactory. Philip thoroughly understood the
business of secret midnight murder. We shall soon have occasion to relate
the elaborate and ingenious method by which the assassination of Montigny
was accomplished and kept a profound secret from the whole world, until
the letters of the royal assassin, after three centuries' repose, were
exhumed, and the foul mystery revealed. Philip was capable of any crime.
Moreover, in his letter to his aunt, Queen Catharine of Portugal, he
distinctly declares himself, like Abraham, prepared to go all lengths in
obedience to the Lord. "I have chosen in this matter," he said, "to make
the sacrifice to God of my own flesh and blood, and to prefer His service
and the universal welfare to all other human considerations." Whenever
the letter to Pius V. sees the light, it will appear whether the
sacrifice which the monarch thus made to his God proceeded beyond the
imprisonment and condemnation of his son, or was completed by the actual
immolation of the victim.
With regard to the Prince himself, it is very certain that, if he had
lived, the realms of the Spanish Crown would have numbered one tyrant
more. Carlos from his earliest youth, was remarkable for the ferocity of
his character. The Emperor Charles was highly pleased with him, then
about fourteen years of age, upon their first interview after the
abdication. He flattered himself that the lad had inherited his own
martial genius together with his name. Carlos took much interest in his
grandfather's account of his various battles, but when the flight from
Innspruck was narrated, he repeated many times, with much vehemence, that
he never would have fled; to which position he adhered, notwithstanding
all the arguments of the Emperor, and very much to his amusement. The
young Prince was always fond of soldiers, and listened eagerly to
discourses of war. He was in the habit also of recording the names of any
military persons who, according to custom, frequently made offers of
their services to the heir apparent, and of causing them to take a solemn
oath to keep their engagements. No other indications of warlike talent,
however, have been preserved concerning him. "He was crafty, ambitious,
cruel, violent," says the envoy Suriano, "a hater of buffoons, a lover of
soldiers." His natural cruelty seems to have been remarkable from his
boyhood. After his return from the chase, he was in the habit of cutting
the throats of hares and other animals, and of amusing himself with their
dying convulsions. He also frequently took pleasure in roasting them
alive. He once received a present of a very large snake from some person
who seemed to understand how to please this remarkable young prince.
After a time, however, the favorite reptile allowed itself to bite its
master's finger, whereupon Don Carlos immediately retaliated by biting
off its head.
He was excessively angry at the suggestion that the prince who was
expected to spring from his father's marriage with the English queen,
would one day reign over the Netherlands, and swore he would challenge
him to mortal combat in order to prevent such an infringement of his
rights. His father and grandfather were both highly diverted with this
manifestation of spirit, but it was not decreed that the world should
witness the execution of these fraternal intentions against the babe
which was never to be born.
Ferocity, in short, seems to have been the leading characteristic of the
unhappy Carlos. His preceptor, a man of learning and merit, who was
called "the honorable John", tried to mitigate this excessive ardor of
temperament by a course of Cicero de Officiis, which he read to him
daily. Neither the eloquence of Tully, however, nor the precepts of the
honorable John made the least impression upon this very savage nature. As
he grew older he did not grow wiser nor more gentle. He was prematurely
and grossly licentious. All the money which as a boy, he was allowed, he
spent upon women of low character, and when he was penniless, he gave
them his chains, his medals, even the clothes from his back. He took
pleasure in affronting respectable females when he met them in the
streets, insulting them by the coarsest language and gestures. Being
cruel, cunning, fierce and licentious, he seemed to combine many of the
worst qualities of a lunatic. That he probably was one is the best
defence which can be offered for his conduct. In attempting to offer
violence to a female, while he was at the university of Alcala, he fell
down a stone staircase, from which cause he was laid up for a long time
with a severely wounded head, and was supposed to have injured his brain.
The traits of ferocity recorded of him during his short life are so
numerous that humanity can hardly desire that it should have been
prolonged. A few drops of water having once fallen upon his head from a
window, as he passed through the street, he gave peremptory orders to his
guard to burn the house to the ground, and to put every one of its
inhabitants to the sword. The soldiers went forthwith to execute the
order, but more humane than their master, returned with the excuse that
the Holy Sacrament of the Viaticum had that moment been carried into the
house. This appeal to the superstition of the Prince successfully
suspended the execution of the crimes which his inconceivable malignity
had contemplated. On another occasion, a nobleman, who slept near his
chamber, failed to answer his bell on the instant. Springing upon his
dilatory attendant, as soon as he made his appearance, the Prince seized
him in his arms and was about to throw him from the window, when the
cries of the unfortunate chamberlain attracted attention, and procured a
rescue.
The Cardinal Espinoza had once accidentally detained at his palace an
actor who was to perform a favorite part by express command of Don
Carlos. Furious at this detention, the Prince took the priest by the
throat as soon as he presented himself at the palace, and plucking his
dagger from its sheath, swore, by the soul of his father, that he would
take his life on the spot. The grand inquisitor fell on his knees and
begged for mercy, but it is probable that the entrance of the King alone
saved his life.
There was often something ludicrous mingled with the atrocious in these
ungovernable explosions of wrath. Don Pedro Manuel, his chamberlain, had
once, by his command, ordered a pair of boots to be made for the Prince.
When brought home, they were, unfortunately, too tight. The Prince after
vainly endeavouring to pull them on, fell into a blazing passion. He
swore that it was the fault of Don Pedro, who always wore tight boots
himself, but he at the same time protested that his father was really at
the bottom of the affair. He gave the young nobleman a box on the ear for
thus conspiring with the King against his comfort, and then ordered the
boots to be chopped into little pieces, stewed and seasoned. Then sending
for the culprit shoemaker, he ordered him to eat his own boots, thus
converted into a pottage; and with this punishment the unfortunate
mechanic, who had thought his life forfeited, was sufficiently glad to
comply.
Even the puissant Alva could not escape his violence. Like all the men in
whom his father reposed confidence, the Duke was odious to the heir
apparent. Don Carlos detested him with the whole force of his little
soul. He hated him as only a virtuous person deserved to be hated by such
a ruffian. The heir apparent had taken the Netherlands under his
patronage. He had even formed the design of repairing secretly to the
provinces, and could not, therefore, disguise his wrath at the
appointment of the Duke. It is doubtful whether the country would have
benefited by the gratification of his wishes. It is possible that the
pranks of so malignant an ape might have been even more mischievous than
the concentrated and vigorous tyranny of an Alva. When the new
Captain-general called, before his departure, to pay his respects to the
Infante, the Duke seemed, to his surprise, to have suddenly entered the
den of a wild beast. Don Carlos sprang upon him with a howl of fury,
brandishing a dagger in his hand. He uttered reproaches at having been
defrauded of the Netherland government. He swore that Alva should never
accomplish his mission, nor leave his presence alive. He was proceeding
to make good the threat with his poniard, when the Duke closed with him.
A violent struggle succeeded. Both rolled together on the ground, the
Prince biting and striking like a demoniac, the Duke defending himself as
well as he was able, without attempting his adversary's life. Before the
combat was decided, the approach of many persons put an end to the
disgraceful scene. As decent a veil as possible was thrown over the
transaction, and the Duke departed on his mission. Before the end of the
year, the Prince was in the prison whence he never came forth alive.
The figure of Don Carlos was as misshapen as his mind. His head was
disproportionately large, his limbs were rickety, one shoulder was
higher, one leg longer than the other. With features resembling those of
his father, but with a swarthy instead of a fair complexion, with an
expression of countenance both fierce and foolish, and with a character
such as we have sketched it, upon the evidence of those who knew him
well, it is indeed strange that he should ever have been transformed by
the magic of poetry into a romantic hero. As cruel and cunning as his
father, as mad as his great-grandmother, he has left a name, which not
even his dark and mysterious fate can render interesting.