CHAPTER VI. 1566

Francis Junius--His sermon at Culemburg House--The Compromise--

Portraits of Sainte Aldegonde, of Louis 'Nassau, of "Toison d'Or,"

of Charles Mansfeld--Sketch of the Compromise--Attitude of Orange--

His letter to the Duchess--Signers of the Compromise--Indiscretion

of the confederates--Espionage over Philip by Orange--

Dissatisfaction of the seigniors--Conduct of Egmont--Despair of the

people--Emigration to England--Its effects--The request--Meeting at

Breda and Hoogstraaten--Exaggerated statements concerning the

Request in the state council--Hesitation of the Duchess--Assembly of

notables--Debate concerning the Request and the inquisition--

Character of Brederode--Arrival of the petitioners in Brussels--

Presentation of the Request--Emotion of Margaret--Speech of

Brederode--Sketch of the Request--Memorable sarcasm of Berlaymont--

Deliberation in the state council--Apostille to the Request--Answer

to the Apostille--Reply of the Duchess--Speech of D'Esquerdes--

Response of Margaret--Memorable banquet at Culemburg House--Name of

"the beggars" adopted--Orange, Egmont, and Horn break up the riotous

meeting--Costume of "the beggars"--Brederode at Antwerp--Horrible

execution at Oudenardo--Similar cruelties throughout the provinces--

Project of "Moderation"--Religious views of Orange--His resignation

of all his offices not accepted--The "Moderation" characterized--

Egmont at Arras Debate on the "Moderation"--Vacillation of Egmont--

Mission of Montigny and Berghen to Spain--Instructions to the

envoys--Secret correspondence of Philip with the Pope concerning the

Netherland inquisition and the edicts--Field-preaching in the

provinces--Modet at Ghent--Other preachers characterized--Excitement

at Tournay--Peter Gabriel at Harlem--Field--preaching near Antwerp--

Embarrassment of the Regent--Excitement at Antwerp--Pensionary

Wesenbeck sent to Brussels--Orange at Antwerp--His patriotic course

--Misrepresentation of the Duchess--Intemperate zeal of Dr.

Rythovius--Meeting at St. Trond--Conference at Duffel--Louis of

Nassau deputed to the Regent--Unsatisfactory negotiations.

The most remarkable occurrence in the earlier part of the year 1556 was

the famous Compromise. This document, by which the signers pledged

themselves to oppose the inquisition, and to defend each other against

all consequences of such a resistance, was probably the work of Philip de

Marnix, Lord of Sainte Aldegonde. Much obscurity, however, rests upon the

origin of this league. Its foundations had already been laid in the

latter part of the preceding year. The nuptials of Parma with the

Portuguese princess had been the cause of much festivity, not only in

Brussels, but at Antwerp. The great commercial metropolis had celebrated

the occasion by a magnificent banquet. There had been triumphal arches,

wreaths of flowers, loyal speeches, generous sentiments, in the usual

profusion. The chief ornament of the dinner-table had been a magnificent

piece of confectionary, netting elaborately forth the mission of Count

Mansfeld with the fleet to Portugal to fetch the bride from her home,

with exquisitely finished figures in sugar--portraits, it is to be

presumed--of the principal personages as they appeared during the most

striking scenes of the history. At the very moment, however, of these

delectations, a meeting was held at Brussels of men whose minds were

occupied with sterner stuff than sugar-work. On the wedding-day of Parma,

Francis Junius, a dissenting minister then residing at Antwerp, was

invited to Brussels to preach a sermon in the house of Count Culemburg,

on the horse-market (now called Little Sablon), before a small assembly

of some twenty gentlemen.

This Francis Junius, born of a noble family in Bourges, was the pastor of

the secret French congregation of Huguenots at Antwerp. He was very

young, having arrived from Geneva, where he had been educated, to take

charge of the secret church, when but just turned of twenty years. He

was, however, already celebrated for his learning, his eloquence, and his

courage. Towards the end of 1565, it had already become known that Junius

was in secret understanding with Louis of Nassau, to prepare an address

to government on the subject of the inquisition and edicts. Orders were

given for his arrest.

A certain painter of Brussels affected conversion to the new religion,

that he might gain admission to the congregation, and afterwards earn the

reward of the informer. He played his part so well that he was permitted

to attend many meetings, in the course of which he sketched the portrait

of the preacher, and delivered it to the Duchess Regent, together with

minute statements as to his residence and daily habits. Nevertheless,

with all this assistance, the government could not succeed in laying

hands on him. He escaped to Breda, and continued his labors in spite of

persecution. The man's courage may be estimated from the fact that he

preached on one occasion a sermon, advocating the doctrines of the

reformed Church with his usual eloquence, in a room overlooking the

market-place, where, at the very, instant, the execution by fire of

several heretics was taking place, while the light from the flames in

which the brethren of their Faith were burning, was flickering through

the glass windows of the conventicle. Such was the man who preached a

sermon in Culemburg Palace on Parma's wedding-day. The nobles who

listened to him were occupied with grave discourse after conclusion of

the religious exercises. Junius took no part in their conversation, but

in his presence it was resolved that a league against the "barbarous and

violent inquisition" should be formed, and, that the confederates should

mutually bind themselves both within and without the Netherlands to this

great purpose. Junius, in giving this explicit statement; has not

mentioned the names of the nobles before whom he preached. It may be

inferred that some of them were the more ardent and the more respectable

among the somewhat miscellaneous band by whom the Compromise was

afterwards signed.

At about the same epoch, Louis of Nassau, Nicolas de Hammes, and certain

other gentlemen met at the baths of Spa. At this secret assembly, the

foundations of the Compromise were definitely laid. A document was

afterwards drawn up, which was circulated for signatures in the early

part of 1566. It is, therefore, a mistake to suppose that this memorable

paper was simultaneously signed and sworn to at any solemn scene like

that of the declaration of American Independence, or like some of the

subsequent transactions in the Netherland revolt, arranged purposely for

dramatic effect. Several copies of the Compromise were passed secretly

from hand to hand, and in the course of two months some two thousand

signatures had been obtained. The original copy bore but three names,

those of Brederode, Charles de Mansfeld, and Louis of Nassau. The

composition of the paper is usually ascribed to Sainte Aldegonde,

although the fact is not indisputable. At any rate, it is very certain

that he was one of the originators and main supporters of the famous

league. Sainte Aldegonde was one of the most accomplished men of his age.

He was of ancient nobility, as he proved by an abundance of historical

and heraldic evidence, in answer to a scurrilous pamphlet in which he had

been accused, among other delinquencies, of having sprung from plebeian

blood. Having established his "extraction from true and ancient gentlemen

of Savoy, paternally and maternally," he rebuked his assailants in manly

strain. "Even had it been that I was without nobility of birth," said he,

"I should be none the less or more a virtuous or honest man; nor can any

one reproach me with having failed in the point of honor or duty. What

greater folly than to boast of the virtue or gallantry of others, as do

many nobles who, having neither a grain of virtue in their souls nor a

drop of wisdom in their brains, are entirely useless to their country!

Yet there are such men, who, because their ancestors have done some

valorous deed, think themselves fit to direct the machinery of a whole

country, having from their youth learned nothing but to dance and to spin

like weathercocks with their heads as well as their heels." Certainly

Sainte Aldegonde had learned other lessons than these. He was one of the

many-sided men who recalled the symmetry of antique patriots. He was a

poet of much vigor and imagination; a prose writer whose style was

surpassed by that of none of his contemporaries, a diplomatist in whose

tact and delicacy William of Orange afterwards reposed in the most

difficult and important negotiations, an orator whose discourses on many

great public occasions attracted the attention of Europe, a soldier whose

bravery was to be attested afterwards on many a well-fought field, a

theologian so skilful in the polemics of divinity, that, as it will

hereafter appear, he was more than a match for a bench of bishops upon

their own ground, and a scholar so accomplished, that, besides speaking

and writing the classical and several modern languages with facility, he

had also translated for popular use the Psalms of David into vernacular

verse, and at a very late period of his life was requested by the

states-general of the republic to translate all the Scriptures, a work,

the fulfilment of which was prevented by his death. A passionate foe to

the inquisition and to all the abuses of the ancient Church, an ardent

defender of civil liberty, it must be admitted that he partook also of

the tyrannical spirit of Calvinism. He never rose to the lofty heights to

which the spirit of the great founder of the commonwealth was destined to

soar, but denounced the great principle of religious liberty for all

consciences as godless. He was now twenty-eight years of age, having been

born in the same year with his friend Louis of Nassau. His device, "Repos

ailleurs," finely typified the restless, agitated and laborious life to

which he was destined.

That other distinguished leader of the newly-formed league, Count Louis,

was a true knight of the olden time, the very mirror of chivalry. Gentle,

generous, pious; making use, in his tent before the battle, of the

prayers which his mother sent him from the home of his childhood,--yet

fiery in the field as an ancient crusader--doing the work of general and

soldier with desperate valor and against any numbers--cheerful and

steadfast under all reverses, witty and jocund in social intercourse,

animating with his unceasing spirits the graver and more foreboding soul

of his brother; he was the man to whom the eyes of the most ardent among

the Netherland Reformers were turned at this early epoch, the trusty

staff upon which the great Prince of Orange was to lean till it was

broken. As gay as Brederode, he was unstained by his vices, and exercised

a boundless influence over that reckless personage, who often protested

that he would "die a poor soldier at his feet." The career of Louis was

destined to be short, if reckoned by years, but if by events, it was to

attain almost a patriarchal length. At the age of nineteen he had taken

part in the battle of St. Quentin, and when once the war of freedom

opened, his sword was never to be sheathed. His days were filled with

life, and when he fell into his bloody but unknown grave, he was to leave

a name as distinguished for heroic valor and untiring energy as for

spotless integrity. He was small of stature, but well formed; athletic in

all knightly exercises, with agreeable features, a dark laughing eye,

close-clipped brown hair, and a peaked beard.

"Golden Fleece," as Nicholas de Hammes was universally denominated, was

the illegitimate scion of a noble house. He was one of the most active of

the early adherents to the league, kept the lists of signers in his

possession, and scoured the country daily to procure new confederates. At

the public preachings of the reformed religion, which soon after this

epoch broke forth throughout the Netherlands as by a common impulse, he

made himself conspicuous. He was accused of wearing, on such occasions,

the ensigns of the Fleece about his neck, in order to induce ignorant

people to believe that they might themselves legally follow, when they

perceived a member of that illustrious fraternity to be leading the way.

As De Hammer was only an official or servant of that Order, but not a

companion, the seduction of the lieges by such false pretenses was

reckoned among the most heinous of his offences. He was fierce in his

hostility to the government, and one of those fiery spirits whose

premature zeal was prejudicial to the cause of liberty, and disheartening

to the cautious patriotism of Orange. He was for smiting at once the

gigantic atrocity of the Spanish dominion, without waiting for the

forging of the weapons by which the blows were to be dealt. He forgot

that men and money were as necessary as wrath, in a contest with the most

tremendous despotism of the world. "They wish," he wrote to Count Louis,

"that we should meet these hungry wolves with remonstrances, using gentle

words, while they are burning and cutting off heads.--Be it so then. Let

us take the pen let them take the sword. For them deeds, for us words. We

shall weep, they will laugh. The Lord be praised for all; but I can not

write this without tears." This nervous language painted the situation

and the character of the writer.

As for Charles Mansfeld, he soon fell away from the league which he had

embraced originally with excessive ardor.

By the influence of the leaders many signatures were obtained during the

first two months of the year. The language of the document was such that

patriotic Catholics could sign it as honestly as Protestants. It

inveighed bitterly against the tyranny of "a heap of strangers," who,

influenced only by private avarice and ambition, were making use of an

affected zeal for the Catholic religion, to persuade the King into a

violation of his oaths. It denounced the refusal to mitigate the severity

of the edicts. It declared the inquisition, which it seemed the intention

of government to fix permanently upon them, as "iniquitous, contrary to

all laws, human and divine, surpassing the greatest barbarism which was

ever practised by tyrants, and as redounding to the dishonor of God and

to the total desolation of the country." The signers protested,

therefore, that "having a due regard to their duties as faithful vassals

of his Majesty, and especially, as noblemen--and in order not to be

deprived of their estates and their lives by those who, under pretext of

religion, wished to enrich themselves by plunder and murder," they had

bound themselves to each other by holy covenant and solemn oath to resist

the inquisition. They mutually promised to oppose it in every shape, open

or covert, under whatever mask, it might assume, whether bearing the name

of inquisition, placard, or edict, "and to extirpate and eradicate the

thing in any form, as the mother of all iniquity and disorder." They

protested before God and man, that they would attempt nothing to the

dishonor of the Lord or to the diminution of the King's grandeur,

majesty, or dominion. They declared, on the contrary, an honest purpose

to "maintain the monarch in his estate, and to suppress all seditious,

tumults, monopolies, and factions." They engaged to preserve their

confederation, thus formed, forever inviolable, and to permit none of its

members to be persecuted in any manner, in body or goods, by any

proceeding founded on the inquisition, the edicts, or the present league.

It will be seen therefore, that the Compromise was in its origin, a

covenant of nobles. It was directed against the foreign influence by

which the Netherlands were exclusively governed, and against the

inquisition, whether papal, episcopal, or by edict. There is no doubt

that the country was controlled entirely by Spanish masters, and that the

intention was to reduce the ancient liberty of the Netherlands into

subjection to a junta of foreigners sitting at Madrid. Nothing more

legitimate could be imagined than a constitutional resistance to such a

policy.

The Prince of Orange had not been consulted as to the formation of the

league. It was sufficiently obvious to its founders that his cautious

mind would find much to censure in the movement. His sentiments with

regard to the inquisition and the edicts were certainly known to all men.

In the beginning of this year, too, he had addressed a remarkable letter

to the Duchess, in answer to her written commands to cause the Council of

Trent, the inquisition, and the edicts, in accordance with the recent

commands of the King, to be published and enforced throughout his

government. Although his advice on the subject had not been asked, he

expressed his sense of obligation to speak his mind on the subject,

preferring the hazard of being censured for his remonstrance, to that of

incurring the suspicion of connivance at the desolation of the land by

his silence. He left the question of reformation in ecclesiastical morals

untouched, as not belonging to his vocation: As to the inquisition, he

most distinctly informed her highness that the hope which still lingered

in the popular mind of escaping the permanent establishment of that

institution, had alone prevented the utter depopulation of the country,

with entire subversion of its commercial and manufacturing industry. With

regard to the edicts, he temperately but forcibly expressed the opinion

that it was very hard to enforce those placards now in their rigor, when

the people were exasperated, and the misery universal, inasmuch as they

had frequently been modified on former occasions. The King, he said,

could gain nothing but difficulty for himself, and would be sure to lose

the affection of his subjects by renewing the edicts, strengthening the

inquisition, and proceeding to fresh executions, at a time when the

people, moved by the example of their neighbors, were naturally inclined

to novelty. Moreover, when by reason of the daily increasing prices of

grain a famine was impending over the land, no worse moment could be

chosen to enforce such a policy. In conclusion, he observed that he was

at all times desirous to obey the commands of his Majesty and her

Highness, and to discharge the duties of "a good Christian." The use of

the latter term is remarkable, as marking an epoch in the history of the

Prince's mind. A year before he would have said a good Catholic, but it

was during this year that his mind began to be thoroughly pervaded by

religious doubt, and that the great question of the Reformation forced

itself, not only as a political, but as a moral problem upon him, which

he felt that he could not much longer neglect instead of solving.

Such were the opinions of Orange. He could not, however, safely entrust

the sacred interests of a commonwealth to such hands as those of

Brederode--however deeply that enthusiastic personage might drink the

health of "Younker William," as he affectionately denominated the

Prince--or to "Golden Fleece," or to Charles Mansfeld, or to that younger

wild boar of Ardennes, Robert de la Marck. In his brother and in Sainte

Aldegonde he had confidence, but he did not exercise over them that

control which he afterwards acquired. His conduct towards the confederacy

was imitated in the main by the other great nobles. The covenanters never

expected to obtain the signatures of such men as Orange, Egmont, Horn,

Meghen, Berghen, or Montigny, nor were those eminent personages ever

accused of having signed the Compromise, although some of them were

afterwards charged with having protected those who did affix their names

to the document. The confederates were originally found among the lesser

nobles. Of these some were sincere Catholics, who loved the ancient

Church but hated the inquisition; some were fierce Calvinists or

determined Lutherans; some were troublous and adventurous spirits, men of

broken fortunes, extravagant habits, and boundless desires, who no doubt

thought that the broad lands of the Church, with their stately abbeys;

would furnish much more fitting homes and revenues for gallant gentlemen

than for lazy monks. All were young, few had any prudence or conduct, and

the history of the league more than justified the disapprobation of

Orange. The nobles thus banded together, achieved little by their

confederacy. They disgraced a great cause by their orgies, almost ruined

it by their inefficiency, and when the rope of sand which they had

twisted fell asunder, the people had gained nothing and the gentry had

almost lost the confidence of the nation. These remarks apply to the mass

of the confederates and to some of the leaders. Louis of Nassau and

Sainte Aldegonde were ever honored and trusted as they deserved.

Although the language of the Compromise spoke of the leaguers as nobles,

yet the document was circulated among burghers and merchants also, many

of whom, according to the satirical remark of a Netherland Catholic, may,

have been influenced by the desire of writing their names in such

aristocratic company, and some of whom were destined to expiate such

vainglory upon the scaffold.

With such associates, therefore, the profound and anxious mind of Orange

could have little in common. Confidence expanding as the numbers

increased, their audacity and turbulence grew with the growth of the

league. The language at their wild banquets was as hot as the wine which

confused their heads; yet the Prince knew that there was rarely a

festival in which there did not sit some calm, temperate Spaniard,

watching with quiet eye and cool brain the extravagant demeanor, and

listening with composure to the dangerous avowals or bravados of these

revellers, with the purpose of transmitting a record of their language or

demonstrations, to the inmost sanctuary of Philip's cabinet at Madrid.

The Prince knew, too, that the King was very sincere in his determination

to maintain the inquisition, however dilatory his proceedings might

appear. He was well aware that an armed force might be expected ere long

to support the royal edicts. Already the Prince had organized that system

of espionage upon Philip, by which the champion of his country was so

long able to circumvent its despot. The King left letters carefully

locked in his desk at night, and unseen hands had forwarded copies of

them to William of Orange before the morning. He left memoranda in his

pockets on retiring to bed, and exact transcripts of those papers found

their way, likewise, ere he rose, to the same watchman in the

Netherlands. No doubt that an inclination for political intrigue was a

prominent characteristic of the Prince, and a blemish upon the purity of

his moral nature. Yet the dissimulating policy of his age he had mastered

only that he might accomplish the noblest purposes to which a great and

good man can devote his life-the protection of the liberty and the

religion of a whole people against foreign tyranny. His intrigue served

his country, not a narrow personal ambition, and it was only by such arts

that he became Philip's master, instead of falling at once, like so many

great personages, a blind and infatuated victim. No doubt his purveyors

of secret information were often destined fearfully to atone for their

contraband commerce, but they who trade in treason must expect to pay the

penalty of their traffic.

Although, therefore, the great nobles held themselves aloof from the

confederacy, yet many of them gave unequivocal signs of their dissent

from the policy adopted by government. Marquis Berghen wrote to the

Duchess; resigning his posts, on the ground of his inability to execute

the intention of the King in the matter of religion. Meghen replied to

the same summons by a similar letter. Egmont assured her that he would

have placed his offices in the King's hands in Spain, could he have

foreseen that his Majesty would form such resolutions as had now been

proclaimed. The sentiments of Orange were avowed in the letter to which

we have already alluded. His opinions were shared by Montigny, Culemburg,

and many others. The Duchess was almost reduced to desperation. The

condition of the country was frightful. The most determined loyalists,

such as Berlaymont, Viglius and Hopper, advised her not to mention the

name of inquisition in a conference which she was obliged to hold with a

deputation from Antwerp. She feared, all feared, to pronounce the hated

word. She wrote despairing letters to Philip, describing the condition of

the land and her own agony in the gloomiest colors. Since the arrival of

the royal orders, she said, things had gone from bad to worse. The King

had been ill advised. It was useless to tell the people that the

inquisition had always existed in the provinces. They maintained that it

was a novelty; that the institution was a more rigorous one than the

Spanish Inquisition, which, said Margaret, "was most odious, as the King

knew." It was utterly impossible to carry the edicts into execution.

Nearly all the governors of provinces had told her plainly that they

would not help to burn fifty or sixty thousand Netherlanders. Thus

bitterly did Margaret of Parma bewail the royal decree; not that she had

any sympathy for the victims, but because she felt the increasing danger

to the executioner. One of two things it was now necessary to decide

upon, concession or armed compulsion. Meantime, while Philip was slowly

and secretly making his levies, his sister, as well as his people, was on

the rack. Of all the seigniors, not one was placed in so painful a

position as Egmont. His military reputation and his popularity made him

too important a personage to be slighted, yet he was deeply mortified at

the lamentable mistake which he had committed. He now averred that he

would never take arms against the King, but that he would go where man

should never see him more.

Such was the condition of the nobles, greater and less. That of the

people could not well be worse. Famine reigned in the land. Emigration,

caused not by over population, but by persecution, was fast weakening the

country. It was no wonder that not only, foreign merchants should be

scared from the great commercial cities by the approaching disorders; but

that every industrious artisan who could find the means of escape should

seek refuge among strangers, wherever an asylum could be found. That

asylum was afforded by Protestant England, who received these intelligent

and unfortunate wanderers with cordiality, and learned with eagerness the

lessons in mechanical skill which they had to teach. Already thirty

thousand emigrant Netherlanders were established in Sandwich, Norwich,

and other places, assigned to them by Elizabeth. It had always, however,

been made a condition of the liberty granted to these foreigners for

practising their handiwork, that each house should employ at least one

English apprentice. "Thus," said a Walloon historian, splenetically, "by

this regulation, and by means of heavy duties on foreign manufactures,

have the English built up their own fabrics and prohibited those of the

Netherlands. Thus have they drawn over to their own country our skilful

artisans to practise their industry, not at home but abroad, and our poor

people are thus losing the means of earning their livelihood. Thus has

clothmaking, silk-making and the art of dyeing declined in this country,

and would have been quite extinguished but by our wise countervailing

edicts." The writer, who derived most of his materials and his wisdom

from the papers of Councillor d'Assonleville, could hardly doubt that the

persecution to which these industrious artisans, whose sufferings he

affected to deplore, had been subjected, must have had something to do

with their expatriation; but he preferred to ascribe it wholly to the

protective system adopted by England. In this he followed the opinion of

his preceptor. "For a long time," said Assonleville, "the Netherlands

have been the Indies to England; and as long as she has them, she needs

no other. The French try to surprise our fortresses and cities: the

English make war upon our wealth and upon the purses of the people."

Whatever the cause, however, the current of trade was already turned. The

cloth-making of England was already gaining preponderance over that of

the provinces. Vessels now went every week from Sandwich to Antwerp,

laden with silk, satin, and cloth, manufactured in England, while as many

but a few years before, had borne the Flemish fabrics of the same nature

from Antwerp to England.

It might be supposed by disinterested judges that persecution was at the

bottom of this change in commerce. The Prince of Orange estimated that up

to this period fifty thousand persons in the provinces had been put to

death in obedience to the edicts. He was a moderate man, and accustomed

to weigh his words. As a new impulse had been given to the system of

butchery--as it was now sufficiently plain that "if the father had

chastised his people with a scourge the son held a whip of scorpions" as

the edicts were to be enforced with renewed vigor--it was natural that

commerce and manufactures should make their escape out of a doomed land

as soon as possible, whatever system of tariffs might be adopted by

neighboring nations.

A new step had been resolved upon early in the month of March by the

confederates. A petition, or "Request," was drawn up, which was to be

presented to the Duchess Regent in a formal manner by a large number of

gentlemen belonging to the league. This movement was so grave, and likely

to be followed by such formidable results, that it seemed absolutely

necessary for Orange and his friends to take some previous cognizance of

it before it was finally arranged. The Prince had no power, nor was there

any reason why he should have the inclination, to prevent the measure,

but he felt it his duty to do what he could to control the vehemence of

the men who were moving so rashly forward, and to take from their

manifesto, as much as possible, the character of a menace.

For this end, a meeting ostensibly for social purposes and "good cheer"

was held, in the middle of March, at Breda, and afterwards adjourned to

Hoogstraaten. To these conferences Orange invited Egmont, Horn,

Hoogstraaten, Berghen, Meghen, Montigny, and other great nobles.

Brederode, Tholouse, Boxtel, and other members of the league, were also

present. The object of the Prince in thus assembling his own immediate

associates, governors of provinces and knights of the Fleece, as well as

some of the leading members of the league, was twofold. It had long been

his opinion that a temperate and loyal movement was still possible, by

which the impending convulsions might be averted. The line of policy

which he had marked out required the assent of the magnates of the land,

and looked towards the convocation of the states-general. It was natural

that he should indulge in the hope of being seconded by the men who were

in the same political and social station with himself. All, although

Catholics, hated the inquisition. As Viglius pathetically exclaimed,

"Saint Paul himself would have been unable to persuade these men that

good fruit was to be gathered from the inquisition in the cause of

religion." Saint Paul could hardly be expected to reappear on earth for

such a purpose. Meantime the arguments of the learned President had

proved powerless, either to convince the nobles that the institution was

laudable or to obtain from the Duchess a postponement in the publication

of the late decrees. The Prince of Orange, however, was not able to bring

his usual associates to his way of thinking. The violent purposes of the

leaguers excited the wrath of the more loyal nobles. Their intentions

were so dangerous, even in the estimation of the Prince himself, that he

felt it his duty to lay the whole subject before the Duchess, although he

was not opposed to the presentation of a modest and moderate Request.

Meghen was excessively indignant at the plan of the confederates, which

he pronounced an insult to the government, a treasonable attempt to

overawe the Duchess, by a "few wretched vagabonds." He swore that "he

would break every one of their heads, if the King would furnish him with

a couple of hundred thousand florins." Orange quietly rebuked this

truculent language, by assuring him both that such a process would be

more difficult than he thought, and that he would also find many men of

great respectability among the vagabonds.

The meeting separated at Hoogstraaten without any useful result, but it

was now incumbent upon the Prince, in his own judgment, to watch, and in

a measure to superintend, the proceedings of the confederates. By his

care the contemplated Request was much altered, and especially made more

gentle in its tone. Meghen separated himself thenceforth entirely from

Orange, and ranged himself exclusively upon the side of Government.

Egmont vacillated, as usual, satisfying neither the Prince nor the

Duchess.

Margaret of Parma was seated in her council chamber very soon after these

occurrences, attended both by Orange and Egmont, when the Count of Meghen

entered the apartment. With much precipitation, he begged that all

matters then before the board might be postponed, in order that he might

make an important announcement. He then stated that he had received

information from a gentleman on whose word he could rely, a very

affectionate servant of the King, but whose name he had promised not to

reveal, that a very extensive conspiracy of heretics and sectaries had

been formed, both within and without the Netherlands, that they had

already a force of thirty-five thousand men, foot and horse, ready for

action, that they were about to make a sudden invasion, and to plunder

the whole country, unless they immediately received a formal concession

of entire liberty of conscience, and that, within six or seven days,

fifteen hundred men-at-arms would make their appearance before her

Highness. These ridiculous exaggerations of the truth were confirmed by

Egmont, who said that he had received similar information from persons

whose names he was not at liberty to mention, but from whose statements

he could announce that some great tumult might be expected every day. He

added that there were among the confederates many who wished to change

their sovereign, and that the chieftains and captains of the conspiracy

were all appointed. The same nobleman also laid before the council a copy

of the Compromise, the terms of which famous document scarcely justified

the extravagant language with which it had been heralded. The Duchess was

astounded at these communications. She had already received, but probably

not yet read, a letter from the Prince of Orange upon the subject, in

which a moderate and plain statement of the actual facts was laid down,

which was now reiterated by the same personage by word of mouth. An

agitated and inconclusive debate followed, in which, however, it

sufficiently appeared, as the Duchess informed her brother, that one of

two things must be done without further delay. The time had arrived for

the government to take up arms, or to make concessions.

In one of the informal meetings of councillors, now held almost daily, on

the subject of the impending Request, Aremberg, Meghen, and Berlaymont

maintained that the door should be shut in the face of the petitioners

without taking any further notice of the petition. Berlaymont suggested

also, that if this course were not found advisable, the next best thing

would be to allow the confederates to enter the palace with their

Request, and then to cut them to pieces to the very last man, by means of

troops to be immediately ordered from the frontiers. Such sanguinary

projects were indignantly rebuked by Orange. He maintained that the

confederates were entitled to be treated with respect. Many of them, he

said, were his friends--some of them his relations--and there was no

reason for refusing to gentlemen of their rank, a right which belonged to

the poorest plebeian in the land. Egmont sustained these views of the

Prince as earnestly as he had on a previous occasion appeared to

countenance the more violent counsels of Meghen.

Meantime, as it was obvious that the demonstration on the part of the

confederacy was soon about to be made, the Duchess convened a grand

assembly of notables, in which not only all the state and privy

councillors, but all the governors and knights of the Fleece were to take

part. On the 28th of March, this assembly was held, at which the whole

subject of the Request, together with the proposed modifications of the

edicts and abolition of the inquisition, was discussed. The Duchess also

requested the advice of the meeting--whether it would not be best for her

to retire to some other city, like Mons, which she had selected as her

stronghold in case of extremity. The decision was that it would be a

high-handed proceeding to refuse the right of petition to a body of

gentlemen, many of them related to the greatest nobles in the land; but

it was resolved that they should be required to make their appearance

without arms. As to the contemplated flight of the Duchess, it was urged,

with much reason, that such a step would cast disgrace upon the

government, and that it would be a sufficiently precautionary measure to

strengthen the guards at the city gates--not to prevent the entrance of

the petitioners, but to see that they were unaccompanied by an armed

force. It had been decided that Count Brederode should present the

petition to the Duchess at the head of a deputation of about three

hundred gentlemen. The character of the nobleman thus placed foremost on

such an important occasion has been sufficiently made manifest. He had no

qualities whatever but birth and audacity to recommend him as a leader

for a political party. It was to be seen that other attributes were

necessary to make a man useful in such a position, and the Count's

deficiencies soon became lamentably conspicuous. He was the lineal

descendant and representative of the old Sovereign Counts of Holland.

Five hundred years before his birth; his ancestor Sikko, younger brother

of Dirk the Third, had died, leaving two sons, one of whom was the first

Baron of Brederode. A descent of five centuries in unbroken male

succession from the original sovereigns of Holland, gave him a better

genealogical claim to the provinces than any which Philip of Spain could

assert through the usurping house of Burgundy. In the approaching tumults

he hoped for an opportunity of again asserting the ancient honors of his

name. He was a sworn foe to Spaniards and to "water of the fountain." But

a short time previously to this epoch he had written to Louis of Nassau,

then lying ill of a fever, in order gravely to remonstrate with him on

the necessity of substituting wine for water on all occasions, and it

will be seen in the sequel that the wine-cup was the great instrument on

which he relied for effecting the deliverance of the country. Although

"neither bachelor nor chancellor," as he expressed it, he was supposed to

be endowed with ready eloquence and mother wit. Even these gifts,

however, if he possessed them, were often found wanting on important

emergencies. Of his courage there was no question, but he was not

destined to the death either of a warrior or a martyr. Headlong, noisy,

debauched, but brave, kind-hearted and generous, he was a fitting

representative of his ancestors, the hard-fighting, hard-drinking,

crusading, free-booting sovereigns of Holland and Friesland, and would

himself have been more at home and more useful in the eleventh century

than in the sixteenth.

It was about six o'clock in the evening, on the third day of April

(1566), that the long-expected cavalcade at last entered Brussels. An

immense concourse of citizens of all ranks thronged around the noble

confederates as soon as they made their appearance. They were about two

hundred in number, all on horseback, with pistols in their holsters, and

Brederode, tall, athletic, and martial in his bearing, with handsome

features and fair curling locks upon his shoulders, seemed an appropriate

chieftain for that band of Batavian chivalry.

The procession was greeted with frequent demonstrations of applause as it

wheeled slowly through the city till it reached the mansion of Orange

Nassau. Here Brederode and Count Louis alighted, while the rest of the

company dispersed to different quarters of the town.

"They thought that I should not come to Brussels," said Brederode, as he

dismounted. "Very well, here I am; and perhaps I shall depart in a

different manner." In the Course of the next day, Counts Culemburg and

Van den Berg entered the city with one hundred other cavaliers.

On the morning of the fifth of April, the confederates were assembled at

the Culemburg mansion, which stood on the square called the Sabon, within

a few minutes' walk of the palace. A straight handsome street led from

the house along the summit of the hill, to the splendid residence of the

ancient Dukes of Brabant, then the abode of Duchess Margaret. At a little

before noon, the gentlemen came forth, marching on foot, two by two, to

the number of three hundred. Nearly all were young, many of them bore the

most ancient historical names of their country, every one was arrayed in

magnificent costume. It was regarded as ominous, that the man who led the

procession, Philip de Bailleul, was lame. The line was closed by

Brederode and Count Louis, who came last, walking arm in arm. An immense

crowd was collected in the square in front of the palace, to welcome the

men who were looked upon as the deliverers of the land from Spanish

tyranny, from the Cardinalists, and from the inquisition. They were

received with deafening huzzas and clappings of hands by the assembled

populace. As they entered the council chamber, passing through the great

hall, where ten years before the Emperor had given away his crowns, they

found the Emperor's daughter seated in the chair of state, and surrounded

by the highest personages of the country. The emotion of the Duchess was

evident, as the procession somewhat abruptly made its appearance; nor was

her agitation diminished as she observed among the petitioners many

relatives and, retainers of the Orange and Egmont houses, and saw

friendly glances of recognition exchanged between them and their chiefs.

As soon as all had entered the senate room, Brederode advanced, made a

low obeisance, and spoke a brief speech. He said that he had come thither

with his colleagues to present a humble petition to her Highness. He

alluded to the reports which had been rife, that they had contemplated

tumult, sedition, foreign conspiracies, and, what was more abominable

than all, a change of sovereign. He denounced such statements as

calumnies, begged the Duchess to name the men who had thus aspersed an

honorable and loyal company, and called upon her to inflict exemplary

punishment upon the slanderers. With these prefatory remarks he presented

the petition. The famous document was then read aloud.--Its tone was

sufficiently loyal, particularly in the preamble, which was filled with

protestations of devotion to both King and Duchess. After this

conventional introduction, however, the petitioners proceeded to state,

very plainly, that the recent resolutions of his Majesty, with regard to

the edict and the inquisition, were likely to produce a general

rebellion. They had hoped, they said, that a movement would be made by

the seigniors or by the estates, to remedy the evil by striking at its

cause, but they had waited in vain. The danger, on the other hand, was

augmenting every day, universal sedition was at the gate, and they had

therefore felt obliged to delay no longer, but come forward the first and

do their duty. They professed to do this with more freedom, because the

danger touched them very nearly. They were the most exposed to the

calamities which usually spring from civil commotions, for their houses

and lands situate in the open fields, were exposed to the pillage of all

the world. Moreover there was not one of them, whatever his condition,

who was not liable at any moment to be executed under the edicts, at the

false complaint of the first man who wished to obtain his estate, and who

chose to denounce him to the inquisitor, at whose mercy were the lives

and property of all. They therefore begged the Duchess Regent to despatch

an envoy on their behalf, who should humbly implore his Majesty to

abolish the edicts. In the mean time they requested her Highness to order

a general surcease of the inquisition, and of all executions, until the

King's further pleasure was made known, and until new ordinances, made by

his Majesty with advice and consent of the states-general duly assembled,

should be established. The petition terminated as it had commenced, with

expressions of extreme respect and devoted loyalty.

The agitation of Duchess Margaret increased very perceptibly during the

reading of the paper. When it was finished, she remained for a few

minutes quite silent, with tears rolling down her cheeks. As soon as she

could overcome her excitement, she uttered a few words to the effect that

she would advise with her councillors and give the petitioners such

answer as should be found suitable. The confederates then passed out from

the council chamber into the grand hall; each individual, as he took his

departure, advancing towards the Duchess and making what was called the

"caracole," in token of reverence. There was thus ample time to

contemplate the whole company; and to count the numbers of the

deputation.

After this ceremony had been concluded, there was much earnest debate in.

the council. The Prince of Orange addressed a few words to the Duchess,

with the view of calming her irritation. He observed that the

confederates were no seditious rebels, but loyal gentlemen, well born,

well connected, and of honorable character. They had been influenced, he

said, by an honest desire to save their country from impending

danger--not by avarice or ambition. Egmont shrugged his shoulders, and

observed that it was necessary for him to leave the court for a season,

in order to make a visit to the baths of Aix, for an inflammation which

he had in the leg. It was then that Berlaymont, according to the account

which has been sanctioned by nearly every contemporary writer, whether

Catholic or Protestant, uttered the gibe which was destined to become

immortal, and to give a popular name to the confederacy. "What, Madam,"

he is reported to have cried in a passion, "is it possible that your

Highness can entertain fears of these beggars? (gueux). Is it not obvious

what manner of men they are? They have not had wisdom enough to manage

their own estates, and are they now to teach the King and your Highness

how to govern the country? By the living God, if my advice were taken,

their petition should have a cudgel for a commentary, and we would make

them go down the steps of the palace a great deal faster than they

mounted them."

The Count of Meghen was equally violent in his language. Aremberg was for

ordering "their reverences; the confederates," to, quit Brussels without

delay. The conversation, carried on in so violent a key, might not

unnaturally have been heard by such of the gentlemen as had not yet left

the grand hall adjoining the council chamber. The meeting of the council

was then adjourned for an hour or two, to meet again in the afternoon,

for the purpose of deciding deliberately upon the answer to be given to

the Request. Meanwhile, many of the confederates were swaggering about

the streets, talking very bravely of the scene which had just occurred,

and it is probable, boasting not a little of the effect which their

demonstration would produce. As they passed by the house of Berlaymont,

that nobleman, standing at his window in company with Count Aremberg, is

said to have repeated his jest. "There go our fine beggars again," said

he. "Look, I pray you, with what bravado they are passing before us!"

On the 6th of April, Brederode, attended by a large number of his

companions, again made his appearance at the palace. He then received the

petition, which was returned to him with an apostille or commentary to

this effect:--Her Highness would despatch an envoy for the purpose of

inducing his Majesty to grant the Request. Every thing worthy of the

King's unaffected (naive) and customary benignity might be expected as to

the result. The Duchess had already, with the assistance of the state and

privy councillors, Fleece knights and governors, commenced a project for

moderating the edicts, to be laid before the King. As her authority did

not allow her to suspend the inquisition and placards, she was confident

that the petitioners would be satisfied with the special application

about to be made to the King. Meantime, she would give orders to all

inquisitors, that they should proceed "modestly and discreetly" in their

office, so that no one would have cause to complain. Her Highness hoped

likewise that the gentlemen on their part would conduct themselves in a

loyal and satisfactory manner; thus proving that they had no intention to

make innovations in the ancient religion of the country.

Upon the next day but one, Monday, 8th of April, Brederode, attended by a

number of the confederates, again made his appearance at the palace, for

the purpose of delivering an answer to the Apostille. In this second

paper the confederates rendered thanks for the prompt reply which the

Duchess had given to their Request, expressed regrets that she did not

feel at liberty to suspend the inquisition, and declared their confidence

that she would at once give such orders to the inquisitors and

magistrates that prosecutions for religious matters should cease, until

the King's further pleasure should be declared. They professed themselves

desirous of maintaining whatever regulations should be thereafter

established by his Majesty, with the advice and consent of the

states-general, for the security of the ancient religion, and promised to

conduct themselves generally in such wise that her Highness would have

every reason to be satisfied with them. They, moreover, requested that

the Duchess would cause the Petition to be printed in authentic form by

the government printer.

The admission that the confederates would maintain the ancient religion

had been obtained, as Margaret informed her brother, through the

dexterous management of Hoogstraaten, without suspicion on the part of

the petitioners that the proposition for such a declaration came from

her.

The Duchess replied by word of mouth to the second address thus made to

her by the confederates, that she could not go beyond the Apostille which

she had put on record. She had already caused letters for the inquisitors

and magistrates to be drawn up. The minutes for those instructions should

be laid before the confederates by Count Hoogstraaten and Secretary

Berty. As for the printing of their petition, she was willing to grant

their demand, and would give orders to that effect.

The gentlemen having received this answer, retired into the great hall.

After a few minutes' consultation, however, they returned to the council

chamber, where the Seigneur d'Esquerdes, one of their number, addressed a

few parting words, in the name of his associates, to the Regent;

concluding with a request that she would declare, the confederates to

have done no act, and made no demonstration, inconsistent with their duty

and with a perfect respect for his Majesty.

To this demand the Duchess answered somewhat drily that she could not be

judge in such a cause. Time and their future deeds, she observed, could

only bear witness as to their purposes. As for declarations from her,

they must be satisfied with the Apostille which they had already

received.

With this response, somewhat more tart than agreeable, the nobles were

obliged to content themselves, and they accordingly took their leave.

It must be confessed that they had been disposed to slide rather

cavalierly over a good deal of ground towards the great object which they

had in view. Certainly the petitio principii was a main feature of their

logic. They had, in their second address, expressed perfect confidence as

to two very considerable concessions. The Duchess was practically to

suspend the inquisition, although she had declared herself without

authority for that purpose, The King, who claimed, de jure and de facto,

the whole legislative power, was thenceforth to make laws on religious

matters by and with the consent of the states-general. Certainly, these

ends were very laudable, and if a civil and religious revolution could

have been effected by a few gentlemen going to court in fine clothes to

present a petition, and by sitting down to a tremendous banquet

afterwards, Brederode and his associates were the men to accomplish the

task. Unfortunately, a sea of blood and long years of conflict lay

between the nation and the promised land, which for a moment seemed so

nearly within reach.

Meantime the next important step in Brederode's eyes was a dinner. He

accordingly invited the confederates to a magnificent repast which he had

ordered to be prepared in the Culemburg mansion. Three hundred guests sat

down, upon the 8th of April, to this luxurious banquet, which was

destined to become historical.

The board glittered with silver and gold. The wine circulated with more

than its usual rapidity among the band of noble Bacchanals, who were

never weary of drinking the healths of Brederode, of Orange, and of

Egmont. It was thought that the occasion imperiously demanded an

extraordinary carouse, and the political events of the past three days

lent an additional excitement to the wine. There was an earnest

discussion as to an appropriate name to be given to their confederacy.

Should they call themselves the "Society of Concord," the restorers of

lost liberty, or by what other attractive title should the league be

baptized? Brederode was, however, already prepared to settle the

question. He knew the value of a popular and original name; he possessed

the instinct by which adroit partisans in every age have been accustomed

to convert the reproachful epithets of their opponents into watchwords of

honor, and he had already made his preparations for a startling

theatrical effect. Suddenly, amid the din of voices, he arose, with all

his rhetorical powers at command: He recounted to the company the

observations which the Seigneur de Berlaymont was reported to have made

to the Duchess, upon the presentation of the Request, and the name which

he had thought fit to apply to them collectively. Most of the gentlemen

then heard the memorable sarcasm for the first time. Great was the

indignation of all that the state councillor should have dared to

stigmatize as beggars a band of gentlemen with the best blood of the land

in their veins. Brederode, on the contrary, smoothing their anger,

assured them with good humor that nothing could be more fortunate. "They

call us beggars!" said he; "let us accept the name. We will contend with

the inquisition, but remain loyal to the King, even till compelled to

wear the beggar's sack."

He then beckoned to one of his pages, who brought him a leathern wallet,

such as was worn at that day by professional mendicants, together with a

large wooden bowl, which also formed part of their regular appurtenances.

Brederode immediately hung the wallet around his neck, filled the bowl

with wine, lifted it with both hands, and drained it at a draught. "Long

live the beggars!" he cried, as he wiped his beard and set the bowl down.

"Vivent les gueulx." Then for the first time, from the lips of those

reckless nobles rose the famous, cry, which was so often to ring over

land and sea, amid blazing cities, on blood-stained decks, through the

smoke and carnage of many a stricken field. The humor of Brederode was

hailed with deafening shouts of applause. The Count then threw the wallet

around the neck of his nearest neighbor, and handed him the wooden bawl.

Each guest, in turn, donned the mendicant's knapsack. Pushing aside his

golden goblet, each filled the beggars' bowl to the brim, and drained it

to the beggars' health. Roars of laughter, and shouts of "Vivent les

gueulx" shook the walls of the stately mansion, as they were doomed never

to shake again. The shibboleth was invented. The conjuration which they

had been anxiously seeking was found. Their enemies had provided them

with a spell, which was to prove, in after days, potent enough to start a

spirit from palace or hovel, forest or wave, as the deeds of the "wild

beggars," the "wood beggars," and the "beggars of the sea" taught Philip

at last to understand the nation which he had driven to madness.

When the wallet and bowl had made the circuit of the table, they were

suspended to a pillar in the hall. Each of the company in succession then

threw some salt into his goblet, and, placing himself under these symbols

of the brotherhood, repeated a jingling distich, produced impromptu for

the occasion.

By this salt, by this bread, by this wallet we swear,

These beggars ne'er will change, though all the world should stare.

This ridiculous ceremony completed the rites by which the confederacy

received its name; but the banquet was by no means terminated. The uproar

became furious. The younger and more reckless nobles abandoned themselves

to revelry, which would have shamed heathen Saturnalia. They renewed to

each other, every moment, their vociferous oaths of fidelity to the

common cause, drained huge beakers to the beggars' health, turned their

caps and doublets inside out, danced upon chairs and tables. Several

addressed each other as Lord Abbot, or Reverend Prior, of this or that

religious institution, thus indicating the means by which some of them

hoped to mend their broken fortunes.

While the tumult was at its height, the Prince of Orange with Counts Horn

and Egmont entered the apartment. They had been dining quietly with

Mansfeld, who was confined to his house with an inflamed eye, and they

were on their way to the council chamber, where the sessions were now

prolonged nightly to a late hour. Knowing that Hoogstraaten, somewhat

against his will, had been induced to be present at the banquet, they had

come round by the way of Culemburg House, to induce him to retire. They

were also disposed, if possible, to abridge the festivities which their

influence would have been powerless to prevent.

These great nobles, as soon as they made their appearance, were

surrounded by a crew of "beggars," maddened and dripping with their

recent baptism of wine, who compelled them to drink a cup amid shouts of

"Vivent le roi et les gueulx!" The meaning of this cry they of course

could not understand, for even those who had heard Berlaymont's

contemptuous remarks, might not remember the exact term which he had

used, and certainly could not be aware of the importance to which it had

just been elevated. As for Horn, he disliked and had long before

quarrelled with Brederode, had prevented many persons from signing the

Compromise, and, although a guest at that time of Orange, was in the

habit of retiring to bed before supper, to avoid the company of many who

frequented the house. Yet his presence for a few moments, with the best

intentions, at the conclusion of this famous banquet, was made one of the

most deadly charges which were afterwards drawn up against him by the

Crown. The three seigniors refused to be seated, and remained but for a

moment, "the length of a Miserere," taking with them Hoogstraaten as they

retired. They also prevailed upon the whole party to break up at the same

time, so that their presence had served at least to put a conclusion to

the disgraceful riot. When they arrived at the council chamber they

received the thanks of the Duchess for what they had done.

Such was the first movement made by the members of the Compromise. Was it

strange that Orange should feel little affinity with such companions? Had

he not reason to hesitate, if the sacred cause of civil and religious

liberty could only be maintained by these defenders and with such

assistance?

The "beggars" did not content themselves with the name alone of the

time-honored fraternity of Mendicants in which they had enrolled

themselves. Immediately after the Culemburg banquet, a costume for the

confederacy was decided upon.

These young gentlemen discarding gold lace and velvet, thought it

expedient to array themselves in doublets and hose of ashen grey, with

short cloaks of the same color, all of the coarsest materials. They

appeared in this guise in the streets, with common felt hats on their

heads, and beggars' pouches and bowls at their sides. They caused also

medals of lead and copper to be struck, bearing upon one side the head of

Philip; upon the reverse, two hands clasped within a wallet, with the

motto, "Faithful to the King, even to wearing the beggar's sack." These

badges they wore around their necks, or as buttons to their hats. As a

further distinction they shaved their beards close, excepting the

moustachios, which were left long and pendent in the Turkish

fashion,--that custom, as it seemed, being an additional characteristic

of Mendicants.

Very soon after these events the nobles of the league dispersed from the

capital to their various homes. Brederode rode out of Brussels at the

head of a band of cavaliers, who saluted the concourse of applauding

spectators with a discharge of their pistols. Forty-three gentlemen

accompanied him to Antwerp, where he halted for a night. The Duchess had

already sent notice to the magistrates of that city of his intended

visit, and warned them to have an eye upon his proceedings. "The great

beggar," as Hoogstraaten called him, conducted himself, however, with as

much propriety as could be expected. Four or five thousand of the

inhabitants thronged about the hotel where he had taken up his quarters.

He appeared at a window with his wooden bowl, filled with wine, in his

hands, and his wallet at his side. He assured the multitude that he was

ready to die to defend the good people of Antwerp and of all the

Netherlands against the edicts and the inquisition. Meantime he drank

their healths, and begged all who accepted the pledge to hold up their

hands. The populace, highly amused, held up and clapped their hands as

honest Brederode drained his bowl, and were soon afterwards persuaded to

retire in great good humor.

These proceedings were all chronicled and transmitted to Madrid. It was

also both publicly reported and secretly registered, that Brederode had

eaten capons and other meat at Antwerp, upon Good Friday, which happened

to be the day of his visit to that city. He denied the charge, however;

with ludicrous vehemence. "They who have told Madame that we ate meat in

Antwerp," he wrote to Count Louis, "have lied wickedly and miserably,

twenty-four feet down in their throats." He added that his nephew,

Charles Mansfeld, who, notwithstanding the indignant prohibition of his

father, had assisted of the presentation of the Request, and was then in

his uncle's company at Antwerp, had ordered a capon, which Brederode had

countermanded. "They told me afterwards," said he, "that my nephew had

broiled a sausage in his chamber. I suppose that he thought himself in

Spain, where they allow themselves such dainties."

Let it not be thought that these trifles are beneath the dignity of

history. Matters like these filled the whole soul of Philip, swelled the

bills of indictment for thousands of higher and better men than

Brederode, and furnished occupation as well for secret correspondents and

spies as for the most dignified functionaries of Government. Capons or

sausages on Good Friday, the Psalms of Clement Marot, the Sermon on the

Mount in the vernacular, led to the rack, the gibbet, and the stake, but

ushered in a war against the inquisition which was to last for eighty

years. Brederode was not to be the hero of that party which he disgraced

by his buffoonery. Had he lived, he might, perhaps, like many of his

confederates, have redeemed, by his bravery in the field, a character

which his orgies had rendered despicable. He now left Antwerp for the

north of Holland, where, as he soon afterwards reported to Count Louis,

"the beggars were as numerous as the sands on the seashore."

His "nephew Charles," two months afterwards, obeyed his father's

injunction, and withdrew formally from the confederacy.

Meantime the rumor had gone abroad that the Request of the nobles had

already produced good fruit, that the edicts were to be mitigated, the

inquisition abolished, liberty of conscience eventually to prevail. "Upon

these reports," says a contemporary, "all the vermin of exiles and

fugitives for religion, as well as those who had kept in concealment,

began to lift up their heads and thrust forth their horns." It was known

that Margaret of Parma had ordered the inquisitors and magistrates to

conduct themselves "modestly and discreetly." It was known that the privy

council was hard at work upon the project for "moderating" the edicts.

Modestly and discreetly, Margaret of Parma, almost immediately after

giving these orders, and while the "moderation" was still in the hands of

the lawyers, informed her brother that she had given personal attention

to the case of a person who had snatched the holy wafer from the priest's

hand at Oudenarde. This "quidam," as she called him--for his name was

beneath the cognizance of an Emperor's bastard daughter--had by her

orders received rigorous and exemplary justice. And what was the

"rigorous and exemplary justice" thus inflicted upon the "quidam?" The

procurator of the neighboring city of Tournay has enabled us to answer.

The young man, who was a tapestry weaver, Hans Tiskaen by name, had, upon

the 30th May, thrown the holy wafer upon the ground. For this crime,

which was the same as that committed on Christmas-day of the previous

year by Bertrand le Blas, at Tournay, he now met with a similar although

not quite so severe a punishment. Having gone quietly home after doing

the deed, he was pursued, arrested, and upon the Saturday ensuing taken

to the market-place of Oudenarde. Here the right hand with which he had

committed the offence was cut off, and he was then fastened to the stake

and burned to death over a slow fire. He was fortunately not more than a

quarter of an hour in torment, but he persisted in his opinions, and

called on God for support to his last breath.

This homely tragedy was enacted at Oudenarde, the birth place of Duchess

Margaret. She was the daughter of the puissant Charles the Fifth, but her

mother was only the daughter of a citizen of Oudenarde; of a "quidam"

like the nameless weaver who had thus been burned by her express order.

It was not to be supposed, however, that the circumstance could operate

in so great a malefactor's favor. Moreover, at the same moment, she sent

orders that a like punishment should be inflicted upon another person

then in a Flemish prison, for the crime of anabaptism.

The privy council, assisted by thirteen knights of the Fleece, had been

hard at work, and the result of their wisdom was at last revealed in a

"moderation" consisting of fifty-three articles.

What now was the substance of those fifty-three articles, so painfully

elaborated by Viglius, so handsomely drawn up into shape by Councillor

d'Assonleville? Simply to substitute the halter for the fagot. After

elimination of all verbiage, this fact was the only residuum. It was most

distinctly laid down that all forms of religion except the Roman Catholic

were forbidden; that no public or secret conventicles were to be allowed;

that all heretical writings were to be suppressed; that all curious

inquiries into the Scriptures were to be prohibited. Persons who

infringed these regulations were divided into two classes--the misleaders

and the misled. There was an affectation of granting mercy to persons in

the second category, while death was denounced upon those composing the

first. It was merely an affectation; for the rambling statute was so open

in all its clauses, that the Juggernaut car of persecution could be

driven through the whole of them, whenever such a course should seem

expedient. Every man or woman in the Netherlands might be placed in the

list of the misleaders, at the discretion of the officials. The pretended

mercy to the misguided was a mere delusion.

The superintendents, preachers, teachers, ministers, sermon-makers,

deacons, and other officers, were to be executed with the halter, with

confiscation of their whole property. So much was very plain. Other

heretics, however, who would abjure their heresy before the bishop, might

be pardoned for the first offence, but if obstinate, were to be banished.

This seemed an indication of mercy, at least to the repentant criminals.

But who were these "other" heretics? All persons who discussed religious

matters were to be put to death. All persons, not having studied theology

at a "renowned university," who searched and expounded the Scriptures,

were to be put to death. All persons in whose houses any act of the

perverse religion should be committed, were to be put to death. All

persons who harbored or protected ministers and teachers of any sect,

were to be put to death. All the criminals thus carefully enumerated were

to be executed, whether repentant or not. If, however, they abjured their

errors, they were to be beheaded instead of being strangled. Thus it was

obvious that almost any heretic might be brought to the halter at a

moment's notice.

Strictly speaking, the idea of death by the halter or the axe was less

shocking to the imagination than that of being burned or buried alive. In

this respect, therefore, the edicts were softened by the proposed

"Moderation." It would, however, always be difficult to persuade any

considerable slumber of intelligent persons, that the infliction of a

violent death, by whatever process, on account of religious opinions, was

an act of clemency. The Netherlanders were, however, to be persuaded into

this belief. The draft of the new edict was ostentatiously called the

"Moderatie," or the "Moderation." It was very natural, therefore, that

the common people, by a quibble, which is the same in Flemish as in

English, should call the proposed "Moderation" the "Murderation." The

rough mother-wit of the people had already characterized and annihilated

the project, while dull formalists were carrying it through the

preliminary stages.

A vote in favor of the project having been obtained from the estates of

Artois, Hainault, and Flanders, the instructions for the envoys; Baron

Montigny and Marquis Berghen, were made out in conformity to the scheme.

Egmont had declined the mission, not having reason to congratulate

himself upon the diplomatic success of his visit to Spain in the

preceding year. The two nobles who consented to undertake the office were

persuaded into acceptance sorely against their will. They were aware that

their political conduct since the King's departure from the country had

not always been deemed satisfactory at Madrid, but they were, of course,

far from suspecting the true state of the royal mind. They were both as

sincere Catholics and as loyal gentlemen as Granvelle, but they were not

aware how continuously, during a long course of years, that personage had

represented them to Philip as renegades and rebels. They had maintained

the constitutional rights of the state, and they had declined to act as

executioners for the inquisition, but they were yet to learn that such

demonstrations amounted to high treason.

Montigny departed, on the 29th May, from Brussels. He left the bride to

whom he had been wedded amid scenes of festivity, the preceding

autumn--the unborn child who was never to behold its father's face. He

received warnings in Paris, by which he scorned to profit. The Spanish

ambassador in that city informed him that Philip's wrath at the recent

transactions in the Netherlands was high. He was most significantly

requested, by a leading personage in France, to feign illness, or to take

refuge in any expedient by which he might avoid the fulfilment of his

mission. Such hints had no effect in turning him from his course, and he

proceeded to Madrid, where he arrived on the 17th of June.

His colleague in the mission, Marquis Berghen, had been prevented from

setting forth at the same time, by an accident which, under the

circumstances, might almost seem ominous. Walking through the palace

park, in a place where some gentlemen were playing at pall-mall, he was

accidentally struck in the leg by a wooden ball. The injury, although

trifling, produced go much irritation and fever that he was confined to

his bed for several weeks. It was not until the 1st of July that he was

able to take his departure from Brussels. Both these unfortunate nobles

thus went forth to fulfil that dark and mysterious destiny from which the

veil of three centuries has but recently been removed.

Besides a long historical discourse, in eighteen chapters, delivered by

way of instruction to the envoys, Margaret sent a courier beforehand with

a variety of intelligence concerning the late events. Alonzo del Canto,

one of Philip's spies in the Netherlands, also wrote to inform the King

that the two ambassadors were the real authors of all the troubles then

existing in the country. Cardinal Granvelle, too, renewed his previous

statements in a confidential communication to his Majesty, adding that no

persons more appropriate could have been selected than Berghen and

Montigny, for they knew better than any one else the state of affairs in

which they had borne the principal part. Nevertheless, Montigny, upon his

arrival in Madrid on the 17th of June, was received by Philip with much

apparent cordiality, admitted immediately to an audience, and assured in

the strongest terms that there was no dissatisfaction in the royal mind

against the seigniors, whatever false reports might be circulated to that

effect. In other respects, the result of this and of his succeeding

interviews with the monarch was sufficiently meagre.

It could not well be otherwise. The mission of the envoys was an

elaborate farce to introduce a terrible tragedy. They were sent to

procure from Philip the abolition of the inquisition and the moderation

of the edicts. At the very moment, however, of all these legislative and

diplomatic arrangements, Margaret of Parma was in possession of secret

letters from Philip, which she was charged to deliver to the Archbishop

of Sorrento, papal nuncio at the imperial court, then on a special visit

to Brussels. This ecclesiastic had come to the Netherlands ostensibly to

confer with the Prince of Orange upon the affairs of his principality, to

remonstrate with Count Culemburg, and to take measures for the

reformation of the clergy. The real object of his mission, however, was

to devise means for strengthening the inquisition and suppressing heresy

in the provinces. Philip, at whose request he had come, had charged him

by no means to divulge the secret, as the King was anxious to have it

believed that the ostensible was the only business which the prelate had

to perform in the country. Margaret accordingly delivered to him the

private letters, in which Philip avowed his determination to maintain the

inquisition and the edicts in all their rigor, but enjoined profound

secrecy upon the subject. The Duchess, therefore, who knew the face of

the cards, must have thought it a superfluous task to continue the game,

which to Philip's cruel but procrastinating temperament was perhaps a

pleasurable excitement.

The scheme for mitigating the edicts by the substitution of strangling

for burning, was not destined therefore far much success either in Spain

or in the provinces; but the people by whom the next great movement was

made in the drama of the revolt, conducted themselves in a manner to

shame the sovereign who oppressed, and the riotous nobles who had

undertaken to protect their liberties.

At this very moment, in the early summer of 1566, many thousands of

burghers, merchants, peasants, and gentlemen, were seen mustering and

marching through the fields of every province, armed with arquebus,

javelin, pike and broadsword. For what purpose were these gatherings?

Only to hear sermons and to sing hymns in the open air, as it was

unlawful to profane the churches with such rites. This was the first

great popular phase of the Netherland rebellion. Notwithstanding the

edicts and the inquisition with their daily hecatombs, notwithstanding

the special publication at this time throughout the country by the

Duchess Regent that all the sanguinary statutes concerning religion were

in as great vigor as ever, notwithstanding that Margaret offered a reward

of seven hundred crowns to the man who would bring her a preacher--dead

or alive,--the popular thirst for the exercises of the reformed religion

could no longer be slaked at the obscure and hidden fountains where their

priests had so long privately ministered.

Partly emboldened by a temporary lull in the persecution, partly

encouraged by the presentation of the Request and by the events to which

it had given rise, the Reformers now came boldly forth from their lurking

places and held their religious meetings in the light of day. The

consciousness of numbers and of right had brought the conviction of

strength. The audacity of the Reformers was wonderful to the mind of

President Viglius, who could find no language strong enough with which to

characterize and to deplore such blasphemous conduct. The field-preaching

seemed in the eyes of government to spread with the rapidity of a

malignant pestilence. The miasma flew upon the wings of the wind. As

early as 1562, there had been public preaching in the neighborhood of

Ypres. The executions which followed, however, had for the time

suppressed the practice both in that place as well as throughout Flanders

and the rest of the provinces. It now broke forth as by one impulse from

one end of the country to the other. In the latter part of June, Hermann

Stryoker or Modet, a monk who had renounced his vows to become one of the

most popular preachers in the Reformed Church, addressed a congregation

of seven or eight thousand persons in the neighborhood of Ghent. Peter

Dathenus, another unfrocked monk, preached at various places in West

Flanders, with great effect. A man endowed with a violent, stormy

eloquence, intemperate as most zealots, he was then rendering better

services to the cause of the Reformation than he was destined to do at

later periods.

But apostate priests were not the only preachers. To the ineffable

disgust of the conservatives in Church and State, there were men with

little education, utterly devoid of Hebrew, of lowly station--hatters,

curriers, tanners, dyers, and the like, who began to preach also;

remembering, unseasonably perhaps, that the early disciples, selected by

the founder of Christianity, had not all been doctors of theology, with

diplomas from a "renowned university." But if the nature of such men were

subdued to what it worked in, that charge could not be brought against

ministers with the learning and accomplishments of Ambrose Wille,

Marnier, Guy de Bray, or Francis Junius, the man whom Scaliger called the

"greatest of all theologians since the days of the apostles." An

aristocratic sarcasm could not be levelled against Peregrine de la

Grange, of a noble family in Provence, with the fiery blood of southern

France in his veins, brave as his nation, learned, eloquent,

enthusiastic, who galloped to his field-preaching on horseback, and fired

a pistol-shot as a signal for his congregation to give attention.

On the 28th of June, 1566, at eleven o'clock at night, there was an

assemblage of six thousand people near Tournay, at the bridge of

Ernonville, to hear a sermon from Ambrose Wille, a man who had studied

theology in Geneva, at the feet of Calvin, and who now, with a special

price upon his head,--was preaching the doctrines he had learned. Two

days afterwards, ten thousand people assembled at the same spot, to hear

Peregrine de la Grange. Governor Moulbais thundered forth a proclamation

from the citadel, warning all men that the edicts were as rigorous as

ever, and that every man, woman, or child who went to these preachings,

was incurring the penalty of death. The people became only the more

ardent and excited. Upon Sunday, the seventh of July; twenty thousand

persons assembled at the same bridge to hear Ambrose Wille. One man in

three was armed. Some had arquebuses, others pistols, pikes, swords,

pitchforks, poniards, clubs. The preacher, for whose apprehension a fresh

reward had been offered, was escorted to his pulpit by a hundred mounted

troopers. He begged his audience not to be scared from the word of God by

menace; assured them that although but a poor preacher himself, he held a

divine commission; that he had no fear of death; that, should he fall,

there were many better than he to supply his place, and fifty thousand

men to avenge his murder.

The Duchess sent forth proclamations by hundreds. She ordered the instant

suppression of these armed assemblies and the arrest of the preachers.

But of what avail were proclamations against such numbers with weapons in

their hands. Why irritate to madness these hordes of enthusiasts, who

were now entirely pacific, and who marched back to the city, after

conclusion of divine service, with perfect decorum? All classes of the

population went eagerly to the sermons. The gentry of the place, the rich

merchants, the notables, as well as the humbler artisans and laborers,

all had received the infection. The professors of the Reformed religion

outnumbered the Catholics by five or six to one. On Sundays and other

holidays, during the hours of service, Tournay was literally emptied of

its inhabitants. The streets were as silent as if war or pestilence had

swept the place. The Duchess sent orders, but she sent no troops. The

trained-bands of the city, the cross-bow-men of St. Maurice, the archers

of St. Sebastian, the sword-players of St. Christopher, could not be

ordered from Tournay to suppress the preaching, for they had all gone to

the preaching themselves. How idle, therefore; to send peremptory orders

without a matchlock to enforce the command.

Throughout Flanders similar scenes were enacted. The meetings were

encampments, for the Reformers now came to their religious services armed

to the teeth, determined, if banished from the churches, to defend their

right to the fields. Barricades of upturned wagons, branches, and planks,

were thrown up around the camps. Strong guards of mounted men were

stationed at every avenue. Outlying scouts gave notice of approaching

danger, and guided the faithful into the enclosure. Pedlers and hawkers

plied the trade upon which the penalty of death was fixed, and sold the

forbidden hymn-books to all who chose to purchase. A strange and

contradictory spectacle! An army of criminals doing deeds which could

only be expiated at the stake; an entrenched rebellion, bearding the

government with pike, matchlock, javelin and barricade, and all for no

more deadly purpose than to listen to the precepts of the pacific Jesus.

Thus the preaching spread through the Walloon provinces to the northern

Netherlands. Towards the end of July, an apostate monk, of singular

eloquence, Peter Gabriel by name, was announced to preach at Overeen near

Harlem. This was the first field-meeting which had taken place in

Holland. The people were wild with enthusiasm; the authorities beside

themselves with apprehension. People from the country flocked into the

town by thousands. The other cities were deserted, Harlem was filled to

overflowing. Multitudes encamped upon the ground the night before. The

magistrates ordered the gates to be kept closed in the morning till long

after the usual hour. It was of no avail. Bolts and bars were but small

impediments to enthusiasts who had travelled so many miles on foot or

horseback to listen to a sermon. They climbed the walls, swam the moat

and thronged to the place of meeting long before the doors had been

opened. When these could no longer be kept closed without a conflict, for

which the magistrates were not prepared, the whole population poured out

of the city with a single impulse. Tens of thousands were assembled upon

the field. The bulwarks were erected as usual, the guards were posted,

the necessary precautions taken. But upon this occasion, and in that

region there was but little danger to be apprehended. The multitude of

Reformers made the edicts impossible, so long as no foreign troops were

there to enforce them. The congregation was encamped and arranged in an

orderly manner. The women, of whom there were many, were placed next the

pulpit, which, upon this occasion, was formed of a couple of spears

thrust into the earth, sustaining a cross-piece, against which the

preacher might lean his back. The services commenced with the singing of

a psalm by the whole vast assemblage. Clement Marot's verses, recently

translated by Dathenus, were then new and popular. The strains of the

monarch minstrel, chanted thus in their homely but nervous mother tongue

by a multitude who had but recently learned that all the poetry and

rapture of devotion were not irrevocably coffined with a buried language,

or immured in the precincts of a church, had never produced a more

elevating effect. No anthem from the world-renowned organ in that ancient

city ever awakened more lofty emotions than did those ten thousand human

voices ringing from the grassy meadows in that fervid midsummer noon.

When all was silent again, the preacher rose; a little, meagre man, who

looked as if he might rather melt away beneath the blazing sunshine of

July, than hold the multitude enchained four uninterrupted hours long, by

the magic of his tongue. His text was the 8th, 9th, and 10th verses of

the second chapter of Ephesians; and as the slender monk spoke to his

simple audience of God's grace, and of faith in Jesus, who had descended

from above to save the lowliest and the most abandoned, if they would put

their trust in Him, his hearers were alternately exalted with fervor or

melted into tears. He prayed for all conditions of men--for themselves,

their friends, their enemies, for the government which had persecuted

them, for the King whose face was turned upon them in anger. At times,

according to one who was present, not a dry eye was to be seen in the

crowd. When the minister had finished, he left his congregation abruptly,

for he had to travel all night in order to reach Alkmaar, where he was to

preach upon the following day.

By the middle of July the custom was established outside all the

principal cities. Camp-meetings were held in some places; as, for

instance, in the neighborhood of Antwerp, where the congregations

numbered often fifteen thousand and on some occasions were estimated at

between twenty and thirty thousand persons at a time; "very many of

them," said an eye-witness, "the best and wealthiest in the town."

The sect to which most of these worshippers belonged was that of Calvin.

In Antwerp there were Lutherans, Calvinists, and Anabaptists. The

Lutherans were the richest sect, but the Calvinists the most numerous and

enthusiastic. The Prince of Orange at this moment was strenuously opposed

both to Calvinism and Anabaptism, but inclining to Lutheranism. Political

reasons at this epoch doubtless influenced his mind in religious matters.

The aid of the Lutheran princes of Germany, who detested the doctrines of

Geneva, could hardly be relied upon for the Netherlanders, unless they

would adapt the Confession of Augsburg. The Prince knew that the Emperor,

although inclined to the Reformation, was bitterly averse to Calvinism,

and he was, therefore, desirous of healing the schism which existed in

the general Reformed Church. To accomplish this, however, would be to

gain a greater victory over the bigotry which was the prevailing

characteristic of the age than perhaps could be expected. The Prince,

from the first moment of his abandoning the ancient doctrines, was

disposed to make the attempt.

The Duchess ordered the magistrates of Antwerp to put down these

mass-meetings by means of the guild-militia. They replied that at an

earlier day such a course might have been practicable, but that the sects

had become quite too numerous for coercion. If the authorities were able

to prevent the exercises of the Reformed religion within the city, it

would be as successful a result as could be expected. To prevent the

preaching outside the walls, by means of the bourgher force, was an utter

impossibility. The dilatoriness of the Sovereign placed the Regent in a

frightful dilemma, but it was sufficiently obvious that the struggle

could not long be deferred. "There will soon be a hard nut to crack,"

wrote Count Louis. "The King will never grant the preaching; the people

will never give it up, if it cost them their necks. There's a hard puff

coming upon the country before long." The Duchess was not yet authorized

to levy troops, and she feared that if she commenced such operations, she

should perhaps offend the King, while she at the same time might provoke

the people into more effective military preparations than her own. She

felt that for one company levied by her, the sectaries could raise ten.

Moreover, she was entirely without money, even if she should otherwise

think it expedient to enrol an army. Meantime she did what she could with

"public prayers, processions, fasts, sermons, exhortations," and other

ecclesiastical machinery which she ordered the bishops to put in motion.

Her situation was indeed sufficiently alarming.

Egmont, whom many of the sectaries hoped to secure as their leader in

case of a civil war, showed no disposition to encourage such hopes, but

as little to take up arms against the people. He went to Flanders, where

the armed assemblages for field-preaching had become so numerous that a

force of thirty or forty thousand men might be set on foot almost at a

moment's warning, and where the conservatives, in a state of alarm,

desired the presence of their renowned governor. The people of Antwerp,

on their part, demanded William of Orange. The Prince, who was hereditary

burgrave of the city, had at first declined the invitation of the

magistracy. The Duchess united her request with the universal prayer of

the inhabitants. Events meantime had been thickening, and suspicion

increasing. Meghen had been in the city for several days, much to the

disgust of the Reformers, by whom he was hated. Aremberg was expected to

join him, and it was rumored that measures were secretly in progress

under the auspices of these two leading cardinalists, for introducing a

garrison, together with great store of ammunition, into the city. On the

other hand, the "great beggar," Brederode, had taken up his quarters also

in Antwerp; had been daily entertaining a crowd of roystering nobles at

his hotel, previously to a second political demonstration, which will

soon be described, and was constantly parading the street, followed by a

swarm of adherents in the beggar livery. The sincere Reformers were made

nearly as uncomfortable by the presence of their avowed friends, as by

that of Meghen and Aremberg, and earnestly desired to be rid of them all.

Long and anxious were the ponderings of the magistrates upon all these

subjects. It was determined, at last, to send a fresh deputation to

Brussels, requesting the Regent to order the departure of Meghen,

Aremberg, and Brederode from Antwerp; remonstrating with her against any

plan she might be supposed to entertain of sending mercenary troops into

the city; pledging the word of the senate to keep the peace, meanwhile,

by their regular force; and above all, imploring her once more, in the

most urgent terms, to send thither the burgrave, as the only man who was

capable of saving the city from the calamities into which it was so

likely to fall.

The Prince of Orange being thus urgently besought, both by the government

of Antwerp, the inhabitants of that city, and by the Regent herself, at

last consented to make the visit so earnestly demanded. On the 13th July,

he arrived in Antwerp. The whole city was alive with enthusiasm. Half its

population seemed to have come forth from the gates to bid him welcome,

lining the road for miles. The gate through which he was to pass, the

ramparts, the roofs of the houses were packed close, with expectant and

eager faces. At least thirty thousand persons had assembled to welcome

their guest. A long cavalcade of eminent citizens had come as far as

Berghen to meet him and to escort him into the city. Brederode, attended

by some of the noble confederates, rode at the head of the procession. As

they encountered the Prince, a discharge of pistol-shots was fired by way

of salute, which was the signal for a deafening shout from the assembled

multitude. The crowd thronged about the Prince as he advanced, calling

him their preserver, their father, their only hope. Wild shouts of

welcome rose upon every side, as he rode through the town, mingled with

occasional vociferations of "long life to the beggars." These party cries

were instantly and sharply rebuked by Orange, who expressed, in

Brederode's presence, the determination that he would make men unlearn

that mischievous watchword. He had, moreover, little relish at that time

for the tumultuous demonstrations of attachment to his person, which were

too fervid to be censured, but too unseasonable to be approved. When the

crowd had at last been made to understand that their huzzas were

distasteful to the Prince, most of the multitude consented to disperse,

feeling, however, a relief from impending danger in the presence of the

man to whom they instinctively looked as their natural protector.

The senators had come forth in a body to receive the burgrave and escort

him to the hotel prepared for him. Arrived there, he lost no time in

opening the business which had brought him to Antwerp. He held at once a

long consultation with the upper branch of the government. Afterwards,

day after day, he honestly, arduously, sagaciously labored to restore the

public tranquillity. He held repeated deliberations with every separate

portion of the little commonwealth, the senate, the council of ancients,

the corporation of ward-masters, the deans of trades. Nor did he confine

his communication to these organized political bodies alone. He had

frequent interviews with the officers of the military associations, with

the foreign merchant companies, with the guilds of "Rhetoric." The

chambers of the "Violet" and the "Marigold" were not too frivolous or

fantastic to be consulted by one who knew human nature and the

constitution of Netherland society so well as did the Prince. Night and

day he labored with all classes of citizens to bring about a better

understanding, and to establish mutual confidence. At last by his efforts

tranquillity was restored. The broad-council having been assembled, it

was decided that the exercise of the Reformed religion should be excluded

from the city, but silently tolerated in the suburbs, while an armed

force was to be kept constantly in readiness to suppress all attempts at

insurrection. The Prince had desired, that twelve hundred men should be

enlisted and paid by the city, so that at least a small number of

disciplined troops might be ready at a moment's warning; but he found it

impossible to carry the point with the council. The magistrates were

willing to hold themselves responsible for the peace of the city, but

they would have no mercenaries.

Thus, during the remainder of July and the early part of August, was

William of Orange strenuously occupied in doing what should have been the

Regent's work. He was still regarded both by the Duchess and by the

Calvinist party--although having the sympathies of neither,--as the only

man in the Netherlands who could control the rising tide of a national

revolt. He took care, said his enemies, that his conduct at Antwerp

should have every appearance of loyalty; but they insinuated that he was

a traitor from the beginning, who was insidiously fomenting the troubles

which he appeared to rebuke. No one doubted his genius, and all felt or

affected admiration at its display upon this critical occasion. "The

Prince of Orange is doing very great and notable services at Antwerp to

the King and to the country," said Assonleville. "That seignior is very

skilful in managing great affairs." Margaret of Parma wrote letters to

him fixed with the warmest gratitude, expressions of approbation, and of

wishes that he could both remain in Antwerp and return to assist her in

Brussels. Philip, too, with his own pen, addressed him a letter, in which

implicit confidence in the Prince's character was avowed, all suspicion

on the part of the Sovereign indignantly repudiated, earnest thanks for

his acceptance of the Antwerp mission uttered, and a distinct refusal

given to the earnest request made by Orange to resign his offices. The

Prince read or listened to all this commendation, and valued it exactly

at its proper worth. He knew it to be pure grimace. He was no more

deceived by it than if he had read the letter sent by Margaret to Philip,

a few weeks later, in which she expressed herself as "thoroughly aware

that it was the intention of Orange to take advantage of the impending

tumults, for the purpose of conquering the provinces and of dividing the

whole territory among himself and friends." Nothing could be more utterly

false than so vile and ridiculous a statement.

The course of the Prince had hitherto been, and was still, both

consistent and loyal. He was proceeding step by step to place the monarch

in the wrong, but the only art which he was using, was to plant himself

more firmly upon the right. It was in the monarch's power to convoke the

assembly of the states-general, so loudly demanded by the whole nation,

to abolish the inquisition, to renounce persecution, to accept the great

fact of the Reformation. To do so he must have ceased to be Philip. To

have faltered in attempting to bring him into that path, the Prince must

have ceased to be William of Orange. Had he succeeded, there would have

been no treason and no Republic of Holland. His conduct at the outbreak

of the Antwerp troubles was firm and sagacious. Even had his duty

required him to put down the public preaching with peremptory violence,

he had been furnished with no means to accomplish the purpose. The

rebellion, if it were one, was already full-grown. It could not be taken

by the throat and strangled with one hand, however firm.

A report that the High Sheriff of Brabant was collecting troops by

command of government, in order to attack the Reformers at their

field-preachings, went far to undo the work already accomplished by the

Prince. The assemblages swelled again from ten or twelve thousand to

twenty-five thousand, the men all providing themselves more thoroughly

with weapons than before. Soon afterwards, the intemperate zeal of

another individual, armed to the teeth--not, however, like the martial

sheriff and his forces, with arquebus and javelin, but with the still

more deadly weapons of polemical theology,--was very near causing a

general outbreak. A peaceful and not very numerous congregation were

listening to one of their preachers in a field outside the town. Suddenly

an unknown individual in plain clothes and with a pragmatical demeanor,

interrupted the discourse by giving a flat contradiction to some of the

doctrines advanced. The minister replied by a rebuke, and a reiteration

of the disputed sentiment.--The stranger, evidently versed in

ecclesiastical matters, volubly and warmly responded. The preacher, a man

of humble condition and moderate abilities, made as good show of argument

as he could, but was evidently no match for his antagonist. He was soon

vanquished in the wordy warfare. Well he might be, for it appeared that

the stranger was no less a personage than Peter Rythovius, a doctor of

divinity, a distinguished pedant of Louvain, a relation of a bishop and

himself a Church dignitary. This learned professor, quite at home in his

subject, was easily triumphant, while the poor dissenter, more accustomed

to elevate the hearts of his hearers than to perplex their heads, sank

prostrate and breathless under the storm of texts, glosses, and hard

Hebrew roots with which he was soon overwhelmed. The professor's triumph

was, however, but short-lived, for the simple-minded congregation, who

loved their teacher, were enraged that he should be thus confounded.

Without more ado, therefore, they laid violent hands upon the Quixotic

knight-errant of the Church, and so cudgelled and belabored him bodily

that he might perhaps have lost his life in the encounter had he not been

protected by the more respectable portion of the assembly. These persons,

highly disapproving the whole proceeding, forcibly rescued him from the

assailants, and carried him off to town, where the news of the incident

at once created an uproar. Here he was thrown into prison as a disturber

of the peace, but in reality that he might be personally secure. The next

day the Prince of Orange, after administering to him a severe rebuke for

his ill-timed exhibition of pedantry, released him from confinement, and

had him conveyed out of the city. "This theologian;" wrote the Prince to

Duchess Margaret, "would have done better, methinks, to stay at home; for

I suppose he had no especial orders to perform this piece of work."

Thus, so long as this great statesman could remain in the metropolis, his

temperate firmness prevented the explosion which had so long been

expected. His own government of Holland and Zeland, too, especially

demanded his care. The field-preaching had spread in that region with

prodigious rapidity. Armed assemblages, utterly beyond the power of the

civil authorities, were taking place daily in the neighborhood of

Amsterdam. Yet the Duchess could not allow him to visit his government in

the north. If he could be spared from Antwerp for a day, it was necessary

that he should aid her in a fresh complication with the confederated

nobles in the very midst, therefore, of his Antwerp labors, he had been

obliged, by Margaret's orders, to meet a committee at Duffel. For in this

same eventful month of July a great meeting was held by the members of

the Compromise at St. Trond, in the bishopric of Liege. They came

together on the thirteenth of the month, and remained assembled till the

beginning of August. It was a wild, tumultuous convention, numbering some

fifteen hundred cavaliers, each with his esquires and armed attendants; a

larger and more important gathering than had yet been held. Brederode and

Count Louis were the chieftains of the assembly, which, as may be

supposed from its composition and numbers, was likely to be neither very

orderly in its demonstrations nor wholesome in its results. It was an

ill-timed movement. The convention was too large for deliberation, too

riotous to inspire confidence. The nobles quartered themselves every

where in the taverns and the farm-houses of the neighborhood, while large

numbers encamped upon the open fields. There was a constant din of

revelry and uproar, mingled with wordy warfare, and an occasional

crossing of swords. It seemed rather like a congress of ancient, savage

Batavians, assembled in Teutonic fashion to choose a king amid hoarse

shouting, deep drinking, and the clash of spear and shield, than a

meeting for a lofty and earnest purpose, by their civilized descendants.

A crowd of spectators, landlopers, mendicants, daily aggregated

themselves to the aristocratic assembly, joining, with natural unction,

in the incessant shout of "Vivent les gueux!" It was impossible that so

soon after their baptism the self-styled beggars should repudiate all

connection with the time-honored fraternity in which they had enrolled

themselves.

The confederates discussed--if an exchange of vociferations could be

called discussion--principally two points: whether, in case they obtained

the original objects of their petition, they should pause or move still

further onward; and whether they should insist upon receiving some pledge

from the government, that no vengeance should be taken upon them for

their previous proceedings. Upon both questions, there was much vehemence

of argument and great difference of opinion. They, moreover, took two

very rash and very grave resolutions--to guarantee the people against all

violence on account of their creeds, and to engage a force of German

soldiery, four thousand horse and forty companies of infantry by, "wart

geld" or retaining wages. It was evident that these gentlemen were

disposed to go fast and far. If they had been ready in the spring to

receive their baptism of wine, the "beggars" were now eager for the

baptism of blood. At the same time it must be observed that the levies

which they proposed, not to make, but to have at command, were purely for

defence. In case the King, as it was thought probable, should visit the

Netherlands with fire and sword, then there would be a nucleus of

resistance already formed.

Upon the 18th July, the Prince of Orange, at the earnest request of the

Regent, met a committee of the confederated nobles at Duffel. Count

Egmont was associated with him in this duty. The conference was not very

satisfactory. The deputies from St. Trend, consisting of Brederode,

Culemburg, and others, exchanged with the two seigniors the old

arguments. It was urged upon the confederates, that they had made

themselves responsible for the public tranquillity so long as the Regent

should hold to her promise; that, as the Duchess had sent two

distinguished envoys to Madrid, in order to accomplish, if possible, the

wishes of the nobles, it was their duty to redeem their own pledges; that

armed assemblages ought to be suppressed by their efforts rather than

encouraged by their example; and that, if they now exerted themselves

zealously to check, the tumults, the Duchess was ready to declare, in her

own-name and that of his Majesty, that the presentation of the Request

had been beneficial.

The nobles replied that the pledges had become a farce, that the Regent

was playing them false, that persecution was as fierce as ever, that the

"Moderation" was a mockery, that the letters recommending "modesty and

discretion" to the inquisitors had been mere waste paper, that a price

had been set upon the heads of the preachers as if they had been wild

beasts, that there were constant threats of invasions from Spain, that

the convocation of the states-general had been illegally deferred, that

the people had been driven to despair, and that it was the conduct of

government, not of the confederates, which had caused the Reformers to

throw off previous restraint and to come boldly forth by tens of

thousands into the fields, not to defy their King, but to worship their

God.

Such, in brief, was the conference of Duffel. In conclusion, a paper was

drawn up which Brederode carried back to the convention, and which it was

proposed to submit to the Duchess for her approval. At the end of the

month, Louis of Nassau was accordingly sent to Brussels, accompanied by

twelve associates, who were familiarly called his twelve apostles. Here

he laid before her Highness in council a statement, embodying the views

of the confederates. In this paper they asserted that they were ever

ready to mount and ride against a foreign foe, but that they would never

draw a sword against their innocent countrymen. They maintained that

their past conduct deserved commendation, and that in requiring letters

of safe conduct in the names both of the Duchess and of the

Fleece-knights, they were governed not by a disposition to ask for

pardon, but by a reluctance without such guarantees to enter into

stipulations touching the public tranquillity. If, however, they should

be assured that the intentions of the Regent were amicable and that there

was no design to take vengeance for the past--if, moreover, she were

willing to confide in the counsels of Horn, Egmont, and Orange, and to

take no important measure without their concurrence--if, above all, she

would convoke the states-general, then, and then only, were the

confederates willing to exert their energies to preserve peace, to

restrain popular impetuosity and banish universal despair.

So far Louis of Nassau and his twelve apostles. It must be confessed

that, whatever might be thought of the justice, there could be but one

opinion as to the boldness of these views. The Duchess was furious. If

the language held in April had been considered audacious, certainly this

new request was, in her own words, "still more bitter to the taste and

more difficult of digestion." She therefore answered in a very

unsatisfactory, haughty and ambiguous manner, reserving decision upon

their propositions till they had been discussed by the state council, and

intimating that they would also be laid before the Knights of the Fleece,

who were to hold a meeting upon the 26th of August.

There was some further conversation without any result. Esquerdes

complained that the confederates were the mark of constant calumny, and

demanded that the slanderers should be confronted with them and punished.

"I understand perfectly well," interrupted Margaret, "you wish to take

justice into your own hands and to be King yourself." It was further

intimated by these reckless gentlemen, that if they should be driven by

violence into measures of self-protection, they had already secured

friends in a certain country. The Duchess, probably astonished at the

frankness of this statement, is said to have demanded further

explanations. The confederates replied by observing that they had

resources both in the provinces and in Germany. The state council decided

that to accept the propositions of the confederates would be to establish

a triumvirate at once, and the Duchess wrote to her brother distinctly

advising against the acceptance of the proposal. The assembly at St.

Trond was then dissolved, having made violent demonstrations which were

not followed by beneficial results, and having laid itself open to

various suspicions, most of which were ill-founded, while some of them

were just.

Before giving the reader a brief account of the open and the secret

policy pursued by the government at Brussels and Madrid, in consequence

of these transactions, it is now necessary to allude to a startling

series of events, which at this point added to the complications of the

times, and exercised a fatal influence upon the situation of the

commonwealth.