Policy of electing Anjou as sovereign--Commode et incommode--Views
of Orange--Opinions at the French Court,--Anjou relieves Cambray--
Parma besieges Tourney--Brave defence by the Princess of Espinoy--
Honorable capitulation--Anjou's courtship in England--The Duke's
arrival in the Netherlands--Portrait of Anjou--Festivities in
Flushing--Inauguration at Antwerp--The conditions or articles
subscribed to by the Duke--Attempt upon the life of Orange--The
assassin's papers--Confession of Venero--Gaspar Anastro--His escape
--Execution of Venero and Zimmermann--Precarious condition of the
Prince--His recovery--Death of the Princess--Premature letters of
Parma--Further negotiations with Orange as to the sovereignty of
Holland and Zealand--Character of the revised Constitution--
Comparison of the positions of the Prince before and after his
acceptance of the countship.
Thus it was arranged that, for the--present, at least, the Prince should
exercise sovereignty over Holland and Zealand; although he had himself
used his utmost exertions to induce those provinces to join the rest of
the United Netherlands in the proposed election of Anjou. This, however,
they sternly refused to do. There was also a great disinclination felt by
many in the other states to this hazardous offer of their allegiance, and
it was the personal influence of Orange that eventually carried the
measure through. Looking at the position of affairs and at the character
of Anjou, as they appear to us now, it seems difficult to account for the
Prince's policy. It is so natural to judge only by the result, that we
are ready to censure statesmen for consequences which beforehand might
seem utterly incredible, and for reading falsely human characters whose
entire development only a late posterity has had full opportunity to
appreciate. Still, one would think that Anjou had been sufficiently known
to inspire distrust.
There was but little, too, in the aspect of the French court to encourage
hopes of valuable assistance from that quarter. It was urged, not without
reason, that the French were as likely to become as dangerous as the
Spaniards; that they would prove nearer and more troublesome masters;
that France intended the incorporation of the Netherlands into her own
kingdom; that the provinces would therefore be dispersed for ever from
the German Empire; and that it was as well to hold to the tyrant under
whom they had been born, as to give themselves voluntarily to another of
their own making. In short, it was maintained, in homely language, that
"France and Spain were both under one coverlid." It might have been added
that only extreme misery could make the provinces take either bedfellow.
Moreover, it was asserted, with reason, that Anjou would be a very
expensive master, for his luxurious and extravagant habits were
notorious--that he was a man in whom no confidence could be placed, and
one who would grasp at arbitrary power by any means which might present
themselves. Above all, it was urged that he was not of the true religion,
that he hated the professors of that faith in his heart, and that it was
extremely unwise for men whose dearest interests were their religious
ones, to elect a sovereign of opposite creed to their own. To these
plausible views the Prince of Orange and those who acted with him, had,
however; sufficient answers. The Netherlands had waited long enough for
assistance from other quarters. Germany would not lift a finger in the
cause; on the contrary, the whole of Germany, whether Protestant or
Catholic, was either openly or covertly hostile. It was madness to wait
till assistance came to them from unseen sources. It was time for them to
assist themselves, and to take the best they could get; for when men were
starving they could not afford to be dainty. They might be bound, hand
and foot, they might be overwhelmed a thousand times before they would
receive succor from Germany, or from any land but France. Under the
circumstances in which they found themselves, hope delayed was but a cold
and meagre consolation.
"To speak plainly," said Orange, "asking us to wait is very much as if
you should keep a man three days without any food in the expectation of a
magnificent banquet, should persuade him to refuse bread, and at the end
of three days should tell him that the banquet was not ready, but that a
still better one was in preparation. Would it not be better, then, that
the poor man, to avoid starvation, should wait no longer, but accept
bread wherever he might find it? Such is our case at present."
It was in this vein that he ever wrote and spoke: The Netherlands were to
rely upon their own exertions, and to procure the best alliance, together
with the most efficient protection possible. They were not strong enough
to cope singlehanded with their powerful tyrant, but they were strong
enough if they used the instruments which Heaven offered. It was not
trusting but tempting Providence to wait supinely, instead of grasping
boldly at the means of rescue within reach. It became the character of
brave men to act, not to expect. "Otherwise," said the Prince, "we may
climb to the top of trees, like the Anabaptists of Munster, and expect
God's assistance to drop from the clouds." It is only by listening to
these arguments so often repeated, that we can comprehend the policy of
Orange at thin period. "God has said that he would furnish the ravens
with food, and the lions with their prey," said he; "but the birds and
the lions do not, therefore, sit in their nests and their lairs waiting
for their food to descend from heaven, but they seek it where it is to be
found." So also, at a later day, when events seemed to have justified the
distrust so, generally felt in Anjou, the Prince; nevertheless, held
similar language. "I do not," said he, calumniate those who tell us to
put our trust in God. That is my opinion also. But it is trusting God to
use the means which he places in our hands, and to ask that his blessings
may come upon them.
There was a feeling entertained by the more sanguine that the French King
would heartily assist the Netherlands, after his brother should be fairly
installed. He had expressly written to that effect, assuring Anjou that
he would help him with all his strength, and would enter into close
alliance with those Netherlands which should accept him as prince and
sovereign. In another and more private letter to the Duke, the King
promised to assist his brother, "even to his last shirt." There is no
doubt that it was the policy of the statesmen of France to assist the
Netherlands, while the "mignons" of the worthless King were of a contrary
opinion. Many of them were secret partizans of Spain; and found it more
agreeable to receive the secret pay of Philip than to assist his revolted
provinces. They found it easy to excite the jealousy of the monarch
against his brother--a passion which proved more effective than the more
lofty ambition of annexing the Low Countries, according to the secret
promptings of many French politicians. As for the Queen Mother, she was
fierce in her determination to see fulfilled in this way the famous
prediction of Nostradamus. Three of her sons had successively worn the
crown of France. That she might be "the mother of four kings," without
laying a third child in the tomb, she was greedy for this proffered
sovereignty to her youngest and favorite son. This well-known desire of
Catherine de Medici was duly insisted upon by the advocates of the
election; for her influence, it was urged, would bring the whole power of
France to support the Netherlands.
At any rate, France could not be worse--could hardly be so bad--as their
present tyranny. "Better the government of the Gaul, though suspect and
dangerous," said Everard Reyd, "than the truculent dominion of the
Spaniard. Even thus will the partridge fly to the hand of man, to escape
the talons of the hawk." As for the individual character of Anjou, proper
means would be taken, urged the advocates of his sovereignty, to keep him
in check, for it was intended so closely to limit the power conferred
upon him, that it would be only supreme in name. The Netherlands were to
be, in reality, a republic, of which Anjou was to be a kind of Italian or
Frisian podesta. "The Duke is not to act according to his pleasure," said
one of the negotiators, in a private letter to Count John; "we shall take
care to provide a good muzzle for him." How conscientiously the "muzzle"
was prepared, will appear from the articles by which the states soon
afterwards accepted the new sovereign. How basely he contrived to slip
the muzzle--in what cruel and cowardly fashion he bathed his fangs in the
blood of the flock committed to him, will also but too soon appear.
As for the religious objection to Anjou, on which more stress was laid
than upon any other, the answer was equally ready. Orange professed
himself "not theologian enough" to go into the subtleties brought
forward. As it was intended to establish most firmly a religious peace,
with entire tolerance for all creeds, he did not think it absolutely
essential to require a prince of the Reformed faith. It was bigotry to
dictate to the sovereign, when full liberty in religious matters was
claimed for the subject. Orange was known to be a zealous professor of
the Reformed worship himself; but he did not therefore reject political
assistance, even though offered by a not very enthusiastic member of the
ancient Church.
"If the priest and the Levite pass us by when we are fallen among
thieves," said he, with much aptness and some bitterness, "shall we
reject the aid proffered by the Samaritan, because he is of a different
faith from the worthy fathers who have left us to perish?" In short, it
was observed with perfect truth that Philip had been removed, not because
he was a Catholic, but because he was a tyrant; not because his faith was
different from that of his subjects, but because he was resolved to
exterminate all men whose religion differed from his own. It was not,
therefore, inconsistent to choose another Catholic for a sovereign, if
proper guarantees could be obtained that he would protect and not oppress
the Reformed churches. "If the Duke have the same designs as the King,"
said Saint Aldegonde, "it would be a great piece of folly to change one
tyrant and persecutor for another. If, on the contrary, instead of
oppressing our liberties, he will maintain them, and in place of
extirpating the disciples of the true religion, he will protect them,
then are all the reasons of our opponents without vigor."
By midsummer the Duke of Anjou made his appearance in the western part of
the Netherlands. The Prince of Parma had recently come before Cambray
with the intention of reducing that important city. On the arrival of
Anjou, however, at the head of five thousand cavalry--nearly all of them
gentlemen of high degree, serving as volunteers--and of twelve thousand
infantry, Alexander raised the siege precipitately, and retired towards
Tournay. Anjou victualled the city, strengthened the garrison, and then,
as his cavalry had only enlisted for a summer's amusement, and could no
longer be held together, he disbanded his forces. The bulk of the
infantry took service for the states under the Prince of Espinoy,
governor of Tournay. The Duke himself, finding that, notwithstanding the
treaty of Plessis les Tours and the present showy demonstration upon his
part, the states were not yet prepared to render him formal allegiance,
and being, moreover, in the heyday of what was universally considered his
prosperous courtship of Queen Elizabeth, soon afterwards took his
departure for England.
Parma; being thus relieved of his interference, soon afterwards laid
siege to the important city of Tournay. The Prince of Espinoy was absent
with the army in the north, but the Princess commanded in his absence.
She fulfilled her duty in a manner worthy of the house from which she
sprang, for the blood of Count Horn was in her veins. The daughter of
Mary, de Montmorency, the admiral's sister, answered the summons of Parma
to surrender at discretion with defiance. The garrison was encouraged by
her steadfastness. The Princess appeared daily among her troops,
superintending the defences, and personally directing the officers.
During one of the assaults, she is said, but perhaps erroneously; to have
been wounded in the arm, notwithstanding which she refused to retire.
The siege lasted two months. Meantime, it became impossible for Orange
and the estates, notwithstanding their efforts, to raise a sufficient
force to drive Parma from his entrenchments. The city was becoming
gradually and surely undermined from without, while at the same time the
insidious art of a Dominican friar, Father Gery by name, had been as
surely sapping the fidelity of the garrison from within. An open revolt
of the Catholic population being on the point of taking place, it became
impossible any longer to hold the city. Those of the Reformed faith
insisted that the place should be surrendered; and the Princess, being
thus deserted by all parties, made an honorable capitulation with Parma.
She herself, with all her garrison, was allowed to retire with personal
property, and with all the honors of war, while the sack of the city was
commuted for one hundred thousand crowns, levied upon the inhabitants:
The Princess, on leaving the gates, was received with such a shout of
applause from the royal army that she seemed less like a defeated
commander than a conqueror. Upon the 30th November, Parma accordingly
entered the place which he had been besieging since the 1st of October.
By the end of the autumn, the Prince of Orange, more than ever
dissatisfied with the anarchical condition of affairs, and with the
obstinate jealousy and parsimony of the different provinces, again
summoned the country in the most earnest language to provide for the
general defence, and to take measures for the inauguration of Anjou. He
painted in sombre colors the prospect which lay before them, if nothing
was done to arrest the progress of the internal disorders and of the
external foe, whose forces were steadily augmenting: Had the provinces
followed his advice, instead of quarreling among themselves, they would
have had a powerful army on foot to second the efforts of Anjou, and
subsequently to save Tournay. They had remained supine and stolid, even
while the cannonading against these beautiful cities was in their very
ears. No man seemed to think himself interested in public affair, save
when his own province or village was directly attacked. The general
interests of the commonwealth were forgotten, in local jealousy. Had it
been otherwise, the enemy would have long since been driven over the
Meuse. "When money," continued the Prince, "is asked for to carry on the
war, men answer as if they were talking with the dead Emperor. To say,
however, that they will pay no more, is as much as to declare that they
will give up their land and their religion both. I say this, not because
I have any desire to put my hands into the common purse. You well know
that I have never touched the public money, but it is important that you
should feel that there is no war in the country except the one which
concerns you all."
The states, thus shamed and stimulated, set themselves in earnest to obey
the mandates of the Prince, and sent a special mission to England, to
arrange with the Duke of Anjou for his formal installation as sovereign.
Saint Aldegonde and other commissioners were already there. It was the
memorable epoch in the Anjou wooing, when the rings were exchanged
between Elizabeth and the Duke, and when the world thought that the
nuptials were on the point of being celebrated. Saint Aldegonde wrote to
the Prince of Orange on the 22nd of November, that the marriage had been
finally settled upon that day. Throughout the Netherlands, the auspicious
tidings were greeted with bonfires, illuminations, and cannonading, and
the measures for hailing the Prince, thus highly favored by so great a
Queen, as sovereign master of the provinces, were pushed forward with
great energy.
Nevertheless, the marriage ended in smoke. There were plenty of tournays,
pageants, and banquets; a profusion of nuptial festivities, in short,
where nothing was omitted but the nuptials. By the end of January, 1582,
the Duke was no nearer the goal than upon his arrival three months
before. Acceding, therefore, to the wishes of the Netherland envoys, he
prepared for a visit to their country, where the ceremony of his joyful
entrance as Duke of Brabant and sovereign of the other provinces was to
take place. No open rupture with Elizabeth occurred. On the contrary, the
Queen accompanied the Duke, with a numerous and stately retinue, as far
as Canterbury, and sent a most brilliant train of her greatest nobles and
gentlemen to escort him to the Netherlands, communicating at the same
time, by special letter, her wishes to the estates-general, that he
should be treated with as much honor "as if he were her second self."
On the 10th of February, fifteen large vessels cast anchor at Flushing.
The Duke of Anjou, attended by the Earl of Leicester, the Lords Hunsdon,
Willoughby, Sheffield, Howard, Sir Philip Sidney, and many other
personages of high rank and reputation, landed from this fleet. He was
greeted on his arrival by the Prince of Orange, who, with the Prince of
Espinoy and a large deputation of the states-general, had been for some
days waiting to welcome him. The man whom the Netherlands had chosen for
their new master stood on the shores of Zealand. Francis Hercules, Son of
France, Duke of Alencon and Anjou, was at that time just twenty-eight
years of age; yet not even his flatterers, or his "minions," of whom he
had as regular a train as his royal brother, could claim for him the
external graces of youth or of princely dignity. He was below the middle
height, puny and ill-shaped. His hair and eyes were brown, his face was
seamed with the small-pox, his skin covered with blotches, his nose so
swollen and distorted that it seemed to be double. This prominent feature
did not escape the sarcasms of his countrymen, who, among other gibes,
were wont to observe that the man who always wore two faces, might be
expected to have two noses also. It was thought that his revolting
appearance was the principal reason for the rupture of the English
marriage, and it was in vain that his supporters maintained that if he
could forgive her age, she might, in return, excuse his ugliness. It
seemed that there was a point of hideousness beyond which even royal
princes could not descend with impunity, and the only wonder seemed that
Elizabeth, with the handsome Robert Dudley ever at her feet, could even
tolerate the addresses of Francis Valois.
His intellect was by no means contemptible. He was not without a certain
quickness of apprehension and vivacity of expression which passed
current, among his admirers for wit and wisdom. Even the experienced.
Saint Aldegonde was deceived in his character, and described him after an
hour and half's interview, as a Prince overflowing with bounty,
intelligence, and sincerity. That such men as Saint Aldegonde and the
Prince of Orange should be at fault in their judgment, is evidence not so
much of their want of discernment, as of the difference between the
general reputation of the Duke at that period, and that which has been
eventually established for him in history. Moreover, subsequent events
were to exhibit the utter baseness of his character more signally than it
had been displayed during his previous career, however vacillating. No
more ignoble yet more dangerous creature had yet been loosed upon the
devoted soil of the Netherlands. Not one of the personages who had
hitherto figured in the long drama of the revolt had enacted so sorry a
part. Ambitious but trivial, enterprising but cowardly, an intriguer and
a dupe, without religious convictions or political principles, save that
he was willing to accept any creed or any system which might advance his
own schemes, he was the most unfit protector for a people who, whether
wrong or right; were at least in earnest, and who were accustomed to
regard truth as one of the virtues. He was certainly not deficient in
self-esteem. With a figure which was insignificant, and a countenance
which was repulsive, he had hoped to efface the impression made upon
Elizabeth's imagination by the handsomest man in Europe. With a
commonplace capacity, and with a narrow political education, he intended
to circumvent the most profound statesman of his age. And there, upon the
pier at Flushing, he stood between them both; between the magnificent
Leicester, whom he had thought to outshine, and the silent Prince of
Orange, whom he was determined to outwit. Posterity has long been aware
how far he succeeded in the one and the other attempt.
The Duke's arrival was greeted with the roar of artillery, the ringing of
bells, and the acclamations of a large concourse of the inhabitants;
suitable speeches were made by the magistrates of the town, the deputies
of Zealand, and other functionaries, and a stately banquet was provided,
so remarkable "for its sugar-work and other delicacies, as to entirely
astonish the French and English lords who partook thereof." The Duke
visited Middelburg, where he was received with great state, and to the
authorities of which he expressed his gratification at finding two such
stately cities situate so close to each other on one little island.
On the 17th of February, he set sail for Antwerp. A fleet of fifty-four
vessels, covered with flags and streamers, conveyed him and his retinue,
together with the large deputation which had welcomed him at Flushing, to
the great commercial metropolis. He stepped on shore at Kiel within a
bowshot of the city--for, like other Dukes of Brabant, he was not to
enter Antwerp until he had taken the oaths to respect the
constitution--and the ceremony of inauguration was to take place outside
the walls. A large platform had been erected for this purpose, commanding
a view of the stately city, with its bristling fortifications and shady
groves. A throne, covered with velvet and gold, was prepared, and here
the Duke took his seat, surrounded by a brilliant throng, including many
of the most distinguished personages in Europe.
It was a bright winter's morning. The gaily bannered fleet lay
conspicuous in the river, while an enormous concourse of people were
thronging from all sides to greet the new sovereign. Twenty thousand
burgher troops, in bright uniforms, surrounded the platform, upon the
tapestried floor of which stood the magistrates of Antwerp, the leading
members of the Brabant estates, with the Prince of Orange at their head,
together with many other great functionaries. The magnificence everywhere
displayed, and especially the splendid costumes of the military
companies, excited the profound astonishment of the French, who exclaimed
that every soldier seemed a captain, and who regarded with vexation their
own inferior equipments.
Andrew Hesaels, 'doctor utriusque juris', delivered a salutatory oration,
in which, among other flights of eloquence, he expressed the hope of the
provinces that the Duke, with the beams of his greatness, wisdom, and
magnanimity, would disipate all the mists, fogs, and other exhalations
which were pernicious to their national prosperity, and that he would
bring back the sunlight of their ancient glory.
Anjou answered these compliments with equal courtesy, and had much to say
of his willingness to shed every drop of his blood in defence of the
Brabant liberties; but it might have damped the enthusiasm of the moment
could the curtain of the not very distant future have been lifted. The
audience, listening to these promises, might have seen that it was not so
much his blood as theirs which he was disposed to shed, and less, too, in
defence than in violation of those same liberties which he was swearing
to protect.
Orator Hessels then read aloud the articles of the Joyous Entry, in the
Flemish language, and the Duke was asked if he required any explanations
of that celebrated constitution. He replied that he had thoroughly
studied its provisions, with the assistance of the Prince of Orange,
during his voyage from Flushing, and was quite prepared to swear to
maintain them. The oaths, according to the antique custom, were then
administered. Afterwards, the ducal hat and the velvet mantle, lined with
ermine, were brought, the Prince of Orange assisting his Highness to
assume this historical costume of the Brabant dukes, and saying to him,
as he fastened the button at the throat, "I must secure this robe so
firmly, my lord, that no man may ever tear it from your shoulders."
Thus arrayed in his garment of sovereignty, Anjou was compelled to listen
to another oration from, the pensionary of Antwerp, John Van der Werken.
He then exchanged oaths with the magistrates of the city, and received
the keys, which he returned for safe-keeping to the burgomaster.
Meanwhile the trumpets sounded, largess of gold and silver coins was
scattered among the people, and the heralds cried aloud, "Long live the
Duke of Brabant."
A procession was then formed to escort the new Duke to his commercial
capital. A stately and striking procession it was. The Hanseatic
merchants in ancient German attires the English merchants in long velvet
cassocks, the heralds is their quaint costume, the long train of civic
militia with full, bands of music, the chief functionaries of city and
province in their black mantles and gold chains, all marching under
emblematical standards or time-honored blazons, followed each other in
dignified order. Then came the Duke himself on a white Barbary horse,
caparisoned with cloth of gold. He was surrounded with English, French,
and Netherland grandees, many of them of world-wide reputation. There was
the stately Leicester; Sir Philip Sidney, the mirror of chivalry; the
gaunt and imposing form of William the Silent; his son; Count Maurice of
Nassau, destined to be the first captain of his age, then a handsome,
dark-eyed lad of fifteen; the Dauphin of Auvergne; the Marechal de Biron
and his sons; the Prince of Espinoy; the Lords Sheffield; Willoughby,
Howard; Hunsdon, and many others of high degree and distinguished
reputation. The ancient guilds of the crossbow-men; and archers of
Brabant, splendidly accoutred; formed the bodyguard of the Duke, while
his French cavaliers, the life-guardsmen of the Prince of Orange, and the
troops of they line; followed in great numbers, their glittering uniforms
all, gaily intermingled, "like the flowers de luce upon a royal mantle!"
The procession, thus gorgeous and gay, was terminated by, a dismal group
of three hundred malefactors, marching in fetters, and imploring pardon
of the Duke, a boon which was to be granted at evening. Great torches,
although it was high noon were burning along the road, at intervals of
four or five feet, in a continuous line reaching from the platform at
Kiel to the portal of Saint Joris, through which the entrance to the city
was to be made.
Inside the gate a stupendous allegory was awaiting the approach of the
new sovereign. A huge gilded car, crowded with those emblematical and
highly bedizened personages so dear to the Netherlanders, obstructed the
advance of the procession. All the virtues seemed to have come out for an
airing in one chariot, and were now waiting to offer their homage to
Francis Hercules Valois. Religion in "red satin," holding the gospel in
her hand, was supported by Justice, "in orange velvet," armed with blade
and beam. Prudence and Fortitude embraced each other near a column
enwreathed by serpents "with their tails in their ears to typify deafness
to flattery," while Patriotism as a pelican, and Patience as a brooding
hen, looked benignantly upon the scene. This greeting duly acknowledged,
the procession advanced into the city. The streets were lined with troops
and with citizens; the balconies were filled with fair women; "the very
gables," says an enthusiastic contemporary, "seemed to laugh with ladies'
eyes." The market-place was filled with waxen torches and with blazing
tar barrels, while in its centre stood the giant Antigonus--founder of
the city thirteen hundred years before the Christian era--the fabulous
personage who was accustomed to throw the right hands of all smuggling
merchants into the Scheld. This colossal individual, attired in a
"surcoat of sky-blue," and holding a banner emblazoned with the arms of
Spain, turned its head as the Duke entered the square, saluted the new
sovereign, and then dropping the Spanish scutcheon upon the ground,
raised aloft another bearing the arms of Anjou.
And thus, amid exuberant outpouring of confidence, another lord and
master had made his triumphal entrance into the Netherlands. Alas how
often had this sanguine people greeted with similar acclamations the
advent of their betrayers and their tyrants! How soon were they to
discover that the man whom they were thus receiving with the warmest
enthusiasm was the most treacherous tyrant of all.
It was nightfall before the procession at last reached the palace of
Saint Michael, which had been fitted up for the temporary reception of
the Duke. The next day was devoted to speech-making; various deputations
waiting upon the new Duke of Brabant with congratulatory addresses. The
Grand Pensionary delivered a pompous oration upon a platform hung with
sky-blue silk, and carpeted with cloth of gold. A committee of the German
and French Reformed Churches made a long harangue, in which they
expressed the hope that the Lord would make the Duke "as valiant as
David, as wise as Solomon, and as pious as Hezekiah." A Roman Catholic
deputation informed his Highness that for eight months the members of the
Ancient Church had been forbidden all religious exercises, saving
baptism, marriage, visitation of the sick, and burials. A promise was
therefore made that this prohibition, which had been the result of the
disturbances recorded in a preceding chapter, should be immediately
modified, and on the 15th of March, accordingly, it was arranged, by
command of the magistrates, that all Catholics should have permission to
attend public worship, according to the ancient ceremonial, in the church
of Saint Michael, which had been originally designated for the use of the
new Duke of Brabant. It was, however, stipulated that all who desired to
partake of this privilege should take the oath of abjuration beforehand,
and go to the church without arms.
Here then had been oaths enough, orations enough, compliments enough, to
make any agreement steadfast, so far as windy suspirations could furnish
a solid foundation for the social compact. Bells, trumpets, and the
brazen throats of men and of cannons had made a sufficient din, torches
and tar-barrels had made a sufficient glare, to confirm--so far as noise
and blazing pitch could confirm--the decorous proceedings of church and
town-house, but time was soon to show the value of such demonstrations.
Meantime, the "muzzle" had been fastened with solemnity and accepted with
docility. The terms of the treaty concluded at Plessis lea Tours and
Bordeaux were made public. The Duke had subscribed to twenty-seven
articles; which made as stringent and sensible a constitutional compact
as could be desired by any Netherland patriot. These articles, taken in
connection with the ancient charters which they expressly upheld, left to
the new sovereign no vestige of arbitrary power. He was merely the
hereditary president of a representative republic. He was to be Duke,
Count, Margrave, or Seignior of the different provinces on the same terms
which his predecessors had accepted. He was to transmit the dignities to
his children. If there were more than one child, the provinces were to
select one of the number for their sovereign. He was to maintain all the
ancient privileges, charters, statutes, and customs, and to forfeit his
sovereignty at the first violation. He was to assemble the states-general
at least once a year. He was always to reside in the Netherlands. He was
to permit none but natives to hold office. His right of appointment to
all important posts was limited to a selection from three candidates, to
be proposed by the estates of the province concerned, at each vacancy. He
was to maintain "the Religion" and the religious peace in the same state
in which they then were, or as should afterwards be ordained by the
estates of each province, without making any innovation on his own part.
Holland and Zealand were to remain as they were, both in the matter of
religion and otherwise. His Highness was not to permit that any one
should be examined or molested in his house, or otherwise, in the matter
or under pretext of religion. He was to procure the assistance of the
King of France for the Netherlands. He was to maintain a perfect and a
perpetual league, offensive and defensive, between that kingdom and the
provinces; without; however, permitting any incorporation of territory.
He was to carry on the war against Spain with his own means and those
furnished by his royal brother, in addition to a yearly, contribution by
the estates of two million four hundred thousand guldens. He was to
dismiss all troops at command of the states-general. He was to make no
treaty with Spain without their consent.
It would be superfluous to point out the great difference between the
notions entertained upon international law in the sixteenth century and
in our own. A state of nominal peace existed between Spain, France and
England; yet here was the brother of the French monarch, at the head of
French troops, and attended by the grandees of England solemnly accepting
the sovereignty over the revolted provinces of Spain. It is also curious
to observe that the constitutional compact, by which the new sovereign of
the Netherlands was admitted to the government, would have been
repudiated as revolutionary and republican by the monarchs of France or
England, if an attempt had been made to apply it to their own realms, for
the ancient charters--which in reality constituted a republican form of
government--had all been re-established by the agreement with Anjou. The
first-fruits of the ban now began to display themselves. Sunday, 18th of
March, 1582, was the birthday of the Duke of Anjou, and a great festival
had been arranged, accordingly, for the evening, at the palace of Saint
Michael, the Prince of Orange as well as all the great French lords being
of course invited. The Prince dined, as usual, at his house in the
neighbourhood of the citadel, in company with the Counts Hohenlo and
Laval, and the two distinguished French commissioners, Bonnivet and Des
Pruneaux. Young Maurice of Nassau, and two nephews of the Prince, sons of
his brother John, were also present at table. During dinner the
conversation was animated, many stories being related of the cruelties
which had been practised by the Spaniards in the provinces. On rising
from the table, Orange led the way from the dining room to his own
apartments, showing the noblemen in his company as he passed along, a
piece of tapestry upon which some Spanish soldiers were represented. At
this moment, as he stood upon the threshold of the ante-chamber, a youth
of small stature, vulgar mien, and pale dark complexion, appeared from
among the servants and offered him a petition. He took the paper, and as
he did so, the stranger suddenly drew a pistol and discharged it at the
head of the Prince. The ball entered the neck under the right ear, passed
through the roof of the mouth, and came out under the left jaw-bone,
carrying with it two teeth. The pistol had been held so near, that the
hair and beard of the Prince were set on fire by the discharge. He
remained standing, but blinded, stunned, and for a moment entirely
ignorant of what had occurred. As he afterwards observed, he thought
perhaps that a part of the house had suddenly fallen. Finding very soon
that his hair and beard were burning, he comprehended what had occurred;
and called out quickly, "Do not kill him--I forgive him my death!" and
turning to the French noblemen present, he added, "Alas! what a faithful
servant does his Highness lose in me!"
These were his first words, spoken when, as all believed, he had been
mortally wounded. The message of mercy came, however, too late; for two
of the gentlemen present, by an irresistible impulse, had run the
assassin through with their rapiers. The halberdiers rushed upon him
immediately after wards, so that he fell pierced in thirty-two vital
places. The Prince, supported by his friends, walked to his chamber,
where he was put to bed, while the surgeons examined and bandaged the
wound. It was most dangerous in appearance, but a very strange
circumstance gave more hope than could otherwise have been entertained.
The flame from the pistol had been so close that it had actually
cauterized the wound inflicted by the ball. But for this, it was supposed
that the flow of blood from the veins which had been shot through would
have proved fatal before the wound could be dressed. The Prince, after
the first shock, had recovered full possession of his senses, and
believing himself to be dying, he expressed the most unaffected sympathy
for the condition in which the Duke of Anjou would be placed by his
death. "Alas, poor Prince!" he cried frequently; "alas, what troubles
will now beset thee!" The surgeons enjoined and implored his silence, as
speaking might cause the wound to prove immediately fatal. He complied,
but wrote incessantly. As long as his heart could beat, it was impossible
for him not to be occupied with his country.
Lion Petit, a trusty Captain of the city guard, forced his way to the
chamber, it being, absolutely necessary, said the honest burgher, for him
to see with his own eyes that the Prince was living, and report the fact
to the townspeople otherwise, so great was the excitement, it was
impossible to say what might be the result. It was in fact believed that
the Prince was already dead, and it was whispered that he had been
assassinated by the order of Anjou. This horrible suspicion was flying
through the city, and producing a fierce exasperation, as men talked of
the murder of Coligny, of Saint Bartholomew, of the murderous
propensities of the Valois race. Had the attempt taken place in the
evening, at the birth-night banquet of Anjou, a horrible massacre would
have been the inevitable issue. As it happened, however, circumstances
soon, occurred to remove, the suspicion from the French, and to indicate
the origin of the crime. Meantime, Captain Petit was urged by the Prince,
in writing, to go forth instantly with the news that he yet survived, but
to implore the people, in case God should call him to Himself, to hold
him in kind remembrance, to make no tumult, and to serve the Duke
obediently and faithfully.
Meantime, the youthful Maurice of Nassau was giving proof of that cool
determination which already marked his character. It was natural that a
boy of fifteen should be somewhat agitated at seeing such a father shot
through the head before his eyes. His situation was rendered doubly grave
by the suspicions which were instantly engendered as to the probable
origin of the attempt. It was already whispered in the hall that the
gentlemen who had been so officious in slaying the assassin, were his
accomplices, who--upon the principle that dead men would tell no
tales--were disposed, now that the deed was done, to preclude
inconvenient revelations as to their own share in the crime. Maurice,
notwithstanding these causes for perturbation, and despite his grief at
his father's probable death, remained steadily by the body of the
murderer. He was determined, if possible, to unravel the plot, and he
waited to possess himself of all papers and other articles which might be
found upon the person of the deceased.
A scrupulous search was at once made by the attendants, and everything
placed in the young Count's own hands. This done, Maurice expressed a
doubt lest some of the villain's accomplices might attempt to take the
articles from him, whereupon a faithful old servant of his father came
forward, who with an emphatic expression of the importance of securing
such important documents, took his young master under his cloak, and led
him to a retired apartment of the house. Here, after a rapid examination,
it was found that the papers were all in Spanish, written by Spaniards to
Spaniards, so that it was obvious that the conspiracy, if one there were,
was not a French conspiracy. The servant, therefore, advised Maurice to
go to his father, while he would himself instantly descend to the hall
with this important intelligence. Count Hohenlo had, from the instant of
the murder, ordered the doors to be fastened, and had permitted no one to
enter or to leave the apartment without his permission. The information
now brought by the servant as to the character of the papers caused great
relief to the minds of all; for, till that moment, suspicion had even
lighted upon men who were the firm friends of the Prince.
Saint Aldegonde, who had meantime arrived, now proceeded, in company of
the other gentlemen, to examine the papers and other articles taken from
the assassin. The pistol with which he had done the deed was lying upon
the floor; a naked poniard, which he would probably have used also, had
his thumb not been blown off by the discharge of the pistol, was found in
his trunk hose. In his pockets were an Agnus Dei, a taper of green wax,
two bits of hareskin, two dried toads--which were supposed to be
sorcerer's charms--a crucifix, a Jesuit catechism, a prayer-book, a
pocket-book containing two Spanish bills of exchange--one for two
thousand, and one for eight hundred and seventy-seven crowns--and a set
of writing tablets. These last were covered with vows and pious
invocations, in reference to the murderous affair which the writer had in
hand. He had addressed fervent prayers to the "Virgin Mary, to the Angel
Gabriel, to the Saviour, and to the Saviour's Son as if," says the
Antwerp chronicler, with simplicity, "the Lord Jesus had a son"--that
they might all use their intercession with the Almighty towards the
certain and safe accomplishment of the contemplated deed. Should he come
off successful and unharmed, he solemnly vowed to fast a week on bread
and water. Furthermore, he promised to Christ a "new coat of costly
pattern;" to the Mother of God, at Guadalupe, a new gown; to Our Lady of
Montserrat, a crown, a gown, and a lamp; and so on through along list of
similar presents thus contemplated for various Shrines. The poor
fanatical fool had been taught by deeper villains than himself that his
pistol was to rid the world of a tyrant, and to open his own pathway to
Heaven, if his career should be cut short on earth. To prevent so
undesirable a catastrophe to himself, however, his most natural
conception had been to bribe the whole heavenly host, from the Virgin
Mary downwards, for he had been taught that absolution for murder was to
be bought and sold like other merchandise. He had also been persuaded
that, after accomplishing the deed, he would become invisible.
Saint Aldegonde hastened to lay the result of this examination before the
Duke of Anjou. Information was likewise instantly conveyed to the
magistrates at the Town House, and these measures were successful in
restoring confidence throughout the city as to the intentions of the new
government. Anjou immediately convened the State Council, issued a
summons for an early meeting of the states-general, and published a
proclamation that all persons having information to give concerning the
crime which had just been committed, should come instantly forward, upon
pain of death. The body of the assassin was forthwith exposed upon the
public square, and was soon recognized as that of one Juan Jaureguy, a
servant in the employ of Gaspar d'Anastro, a Spanish merchant of Antwerp.
The letters and bills of exchange had also, on nearer examination at the
Town House, implicated Anastro in the affair. His house was immediately
searched, but the merchant had taken his departure, upon the previous
Tuesday, under pretext of pressing affairs at Calais. His cashier,
Venero, and a Dominican friar, named Antony Zimmermann, both inmates of
his family, were, however, arrested upon suspicion. On the following day
the watch stationed at the gate carried the foreign post-bags, as soon as
they arrived, to the magistracy, when letters were found from Anastro to
Venero, which made the affair quite plain. After they had been thoroughly
studied, they were shown to Venero, who, seeing himself thus completely
ruined, asked for pen and ink, and wrote a full confession.
It appeared that the crime was purely a commercial speculation on the
part of Anastro. That merchant, being on the verge of bankruptcy, had
entered with Philip into a mutual contract, which the King had signed
with his hand and sealed with his seal, and according to which Anastro,
within a certain period, was to take the life of William of Orange, and
for so doing was to receive eighty thousand ducats, and the cross of
Santiago. To be a knight companion of Spain's proudest order of chivalry
was the guerdon, over and above the eighty thousand pieces of silver,
which Spain's monarch promised the murderer, if he should succeed. As for
Anastro himself, he was too frugal and too wary to risk his own life, or
to lose much of the premium. With, tears streaming down his cheeks, he
painted to his faithful cashier the picture which his master would
present, when men should point at him and say, "Behold yon bankrupt!"
protesting, therefore, that he would murder Orange and secure the reward,
or perish in the attempt. Saying this, he again shed many tears. Venero,
seeing his master thus disconsolate, wept bitterly likewise; and begged
him not to risk his own precious life. After this pathetic commingling of
their grief, the merchant and his book-keeper became more composed, and
it was at last concerted between them that John Jaureguy should be
entrusted with the job. Anastro had intended--as he said in a letter
afterwards intercepted--"to accomplish the deed with his own hand; but,
as God had probably reserved him for other things, and particularly to be
of service to his very affectionate friends, he had thought best to
entrust the execution of the design to his servant." The price paid by
the master to the man, for the work, seems to have been but two thousand
eight hundred and seventy-seven crowns. The cowardly and crafty principal
escaped. He had gone post haste to Dunkirk, pretending that the sudden
death of his agent in Calais required his immediate presence in that
city. Governor Sweveseel, of Dunkirk, sent an orderly to get a passport
for him from La Motte, commanding at Gravelingen. Anastro being on
tenter-hooks lest the news should arrive that the projected murder had
been consummated before he had crossed the border, testified extravagant
joy on the arrival of the passport, and gave the messenger who brought it
thirty pistoles. Such conduct naturally excited a vague suspicion in the
mind of the governor, but the merchant's character was good, and he had
brought pressing letters from Admiral Treslong. Sweveseel did not dare to
arrest him without cause, and he neither knew that any crime had been
committed; nor that the man before him was the criminal. Two hours after
the traveller's departure, the news arrived of the deed, together with
orders to arrest Anastro, but it was too late. The merchant had found
refuge within the lines of Parma.
Meanwhile, the Prince lay in a most critical condition. Believing that
his end was fast approaching; he dictated letters to the states-general,
entreating them to continue in their obedience to the Duke, than whom he
affirmed that he knew no better prince for the government of the
provinces. These letters were despatched by Saint Aldegonde to the
assembly, from which body a deputation, in obedience to the wishes of
Orange, was sent to Anjou, with expressions of condolence and fidelity.
On Wednesday a solemn fast was held, according to proclamation, in
Antwerp, all work and all amusements being prohibited, and special
prayers commanded in all the churches for the recovery of the Prince.
"Never, within men's memory," says an account published at the moment, in
Antwerp, "had such crowds been seen in the churches, nor so many tears
been shed."
The process against Venero and Zimmermann was rapidly carried through,
for both had made a full confession of their share in the crime. The
Prince had enjoined from his sick bed, however, that the case should be
conducted with strict regard to justice, and, when the execution could no
longer be deferred, he had sent a written request, by the hands of Saint
Aldegonde, that they should be put to death in the least painful manner.
The request was complied with, but there can be no doubt that the
criminals, had it not been made, would have expiated their offence by the
most lingering tortures. Owing to the intercession of the man who was to
have been their victim, they were strangled, before being quartered, upon
a scaffold erected in the market-place, opposite the Town House. This
execution took place on Wednesday, the 28th of March.
The Prince, meanwhile, was thought to be mending, and thanksgivings began
to be mingled with the prayers offered almost every hour in the churches;
but for eighteen days he lay in a most precarious state. His wife hardly
left his bedside, and his sister, Catharine Countess of Schwartzburg, was
indefatigable in her attentions. The Duke of Anjou visited him daily, and
expressed the most filial anxiety for his recovery, but the hopes, which
had been gradually growing stronger, were on the 5th of April exchanged
for the deepest apprehensions. Upon that day the cicatrix by which the
flow of blood from the neck had been prevented, almost from the first
infliction of the wound, fell off. The veins poured forth a vast
quantity of blood; it seemed impossible to check the haemorrhage, and all
hope appeared to vanish. The Prince resigned himself to his fate, and
bade his children "good night for ever," saying calmly, "it is now all
over with me."
It was difficult, without suffocating the patient, to fasten a bandage
tightly enough to staunch the wound, but Leonardo Botalli, of Asti, body
physician of Anjou, was nevertheless fortunate enough to devise a simple
mechanical expedient, which proved successful. By his advice; a
succession of attendants, relieving each other day and night, prevented
the flow of blood by keeping the orifice of the wound slightly but firmly
compressed with the thumb. After a period of anxious expectation, the
wound again closed; and by the end of the month the Prince was
convalescent. On the 2nd of May he went to offer thanksgiving in the
Great Cathedral, amid the joyful sobs of a vast and most earnest throng.
The Prince, was saved, but unhappily the murderer had yet found an
illustrious victim. The Princess of Orange; Charlotte de Bourbon--the
devoted wife who for seven years, had so faithfully shared his joys and
sorrows--lay already on her death-bed. Exhausted by anxiety, long
watching; and the alternations of hope and fear during the first eighteen
days, she had been prostrated by despair at the renewed haemorrhage. A
violent fever seized her, under which she sank on the 5th of May, three
days after the solemn thanksgiving for her husband's recovery. The
Prince, who loved her tenderly, was in great danger of relapse upon the
sad event, which, although not sudden, had not been anticipated. She was
laid in her grave on the 9th of May, amid the lamentations of the whole
country, for her virtues were universally known and cherished. She was a
woman of rare intelligence, accomplishment, and gentleness of
disposition; whose only offence had been to break, by her marriage, the
Church vows to which she had been forced in her childhood, but which had
been pronounced illegal by competent authority, both ecclesiastical and
lay. For this, and for the contrast which her virtues afforded to the
vices of her predecessor, she was the mark of calumny and insult. These
attacks, however, had cast no shadow upon the serenity of her married
life, and so long as she lived she was the trusted companion and consoler
of her husband. "His Highness," wrote Count John in 1580, "is in
excellent health, and, in spite of adversity, incredible labor,
perplexity, and dangers, is in such good spirits that, it makes me happy
to witness it. No doubt a chief reason is the consolation he derives from
the pious and highly-intelligent wife whom, the Lord has given him--a
woman who ever conforms to his wishes, and is inexpressibly dear to him."
The Princess left six daughters--Louisa Juliana, Elizabeth, Catharina
Belgica, Flandrina, Charlotta Brabantica, and Emilia Secunda.
Parma received the first intelligence of the attempt from the mouth of
Anastro himself, who assured him that the deed had been entirely
successful, and claimed the promised reward.
Alexander, in consequence, addressed circular letters to the authorities
of Antwerp, Brussels, Bruges, and other cities, calling upon them, now
that they had been relieved of their tyrant and their betrayer, to return
again to the path of their duty and to the ever open arms of their lawful
monarch. These letters were premature. On the other hand, the states of
Holland and Zealand remained in permanent session, awaiting with extreme
anxiety the result of the Prince's wound. "With the death of his
Excellency, if God should please to take him to himself," said the
magistracy of Leyden, "in the death of the Prince we all foresee our own
death." It was, in truth, an anxious moment, and the revulsion of feeling
consequent on his recovery was proportionately intense.
In consequence of the excitement produced by this event, it was no longer
possible for the Prince to decline accepting the countship of Holland and
Zealand, which he had refused absolutely two years before, and which he
had again rejected, except for a limited period, in the year 1581. It was
well understood, as appears by the treaty with Anjou, and afterwards
formally arranged, "that the Duke was never, to claim sovereignty over
Holland and Zealand," and the offer of the sovereign countship of Holland
was again made to the Prince of Orange in most urgent terms. It will be
recollected that he had accepted the sovereignty on the 5th of July,
1581, only for the term of the war. In a letter, dated Bruges, 14th of
August, 1582, he accepted the dignity without limitation. This offer and
acceptance, however, constituted but the preliminaries, for it was
further necessary that the letters of "Renversal" should be drawn up,
that they should be formally delivered, and that a new constitution
should be laid down, and confirmed by mutual oaths. After these steps had
been taken, the ceremonious inauguration or rendering of homage was to be
celebrated.
All these measures were duly arranged, except the last. The installation
of the new Count of Holland was prevented by his death, and the northern
provinces remained a Republic, not only in fact but in name.
In political matters; the basis of the new constitution was the "Great
Privilege" of the Lady Mary, the Magna Charta of the country. That
memorable monument in the history of the Netherlands and of municipal
progress had, been overthrown by Mary's son, with the forced acquiescence
of the states, and it was therefore stipulated by the new article, that
even such laws and privileges as had fallen into disuse should be
revived. It was furthermore provided that the little state should be a
free Countship, and should thus silently sever its connexion with the
Empire.
With regard to the position of the Prince, as hereditary chief of the
little commonwealth, his actual power was rather diminished than
increased by his new dignity. What was his position at the moment? He was
sovereign during the war, on the general basis of the authority
originally bestowed upon him by the King's commission of stadholder. In
1581, his Majesty had been abjured and the stadholder had become
sovereign. He held in his hands the supreme power, legislative, judicial,
executive. The Counts of Holland--and Philip as their successor--were the
great fountains of that triple stream. Concessions and exceptions had
become so extensive; no doubt, that the provincial charters constituted a
vast body of "liberties" by which the whole country was reasonably well
supplied. At the same time, all the power not expressly granted away
remained in the breast of the Count. If ambition, then, had been
William's ruling principle, he had exchanged substance for shadow, for
the new state now constituted was a free commonwealth--a republic in all
but name.
By the new constitution he ceased to be the source of governmental life,
or to derive his own authority from above by right divine. The sacred oil
which had flowed from Charles the Simple's beard was dried up. Orange's
sovereignty was from the estates; as legal representatives of the people;
and, instead of exercising all the powers not otherwise granted away, he
was content with those especially conferred upon him. He could neither
declare war nor conclude peace without the co-operation of the
representative body. The appointing power was scrupulously limited.
Judges, magistrates, governors, sheriffs, provincial and municipal
officers, were to be nominated by the local authorities or by the
estates, on the triple principle. From these triple nominations he had
only the right of selection by advice and consent of his council. He was
expressly enjoined to see that the law was carried to every man's door,
without any distinction of persons; to submit himself to its behests, to
watch against all impedimenta to the even flow of justice, to prevent
false imprisonments, and to secure trials for every accused person by the
local tribunals. This was certainly little in accordance with the
arbitrary practice of the past quarter of a century.
With respect to the great principle of taxation, stricter bonds even were
provided than those which already existed. Not only the right of taxation
remained with the states, but the Count was to see that, except for war
purposes, every impost was levied by a unanimous vote. He was expressly
forbidden to tamper with the currency. As executive head, save in his
capacity as Commander-in-chief by land or sea, the new sovereign was, in
short, strictly limited by self-imposed laws. It had rested with him to
dictate or to accept a constitution. He had in his memorable letter of
August, 1582, from Bruges, laid down generally the articles prepared at
Plessia and Bourdeaux, for Anjou-together with all applicable provisions
of the Joyous Entry of Brabant--as the outlines of the constitution for
the little commonwealth then forming in the north. To these provisions he
was willing to add any others which, after ripe deliberation, might be
thought beneficial to the country.
Thus limited were his executive functions. As to his judicial authority
it had ceased to exist. The Count of Holland was now the guardian of the
laws, but the judges were to administer them. He held the sword of
justice to protect and to execute, while the scales were left in the
hands which had learned to weigh and to measure.
As to the Count's legislative authority, it had become coordinate with,
if not subordinate to, that of the representative body. He was strictly
prohibited from interfering with the right of the separate or the general
states to assemble as often as they should think proper; and he was also
forbidden to summon them outside their own territory. This was one
immense step in the progress of representative liberty, and the next was
equally important. It was now formally stipulated that the estates were
to deliberate upon all measures which "concerned justice and polity," and
that no change was to be made--that is to say, no new law was to pass
without their consent as well as that of the council. Thus, the principle
was established of two legislative chambers, with the right, but not the
exclusive right, of initiation on the part of government, and in the
sixteenth century one would hardly look for broader views of civil
liberty and representative government. The foundation of a free
commonwealth was thus securely laid, which had William lived, would have
been a representative monarchy, but which his death converted into a
federal republic. It was necessary for the sake of unity to give a
connected outline of these proceedings with regard to the sovereignty of
Orange. The formal inauguration, only remained, and this, as will be
seen, was for ever interrupted.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Character of brave men to act, not to expect
Colonel Ysselstein, "dismissed for a homicide or two"
God has given absolute power to no mortal man
Hope delayed was but a cold and meagre consolation
Natural to judge only by the result
No authority over an army which they did not pay
Unduly dejected in adversity
MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 34
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC
By John Lothrop Motley
1855