Parma recals the foreign troops--Siege of Oudenarde--Coolness of
Alexander--Capture of the city and of Nineve--Inauguration of Anjou
at Ghent--Attempt upon his life and that of Orange--Lamoral Egmont's
implication in the plot--Parma's unsuccessful attack upon Ghent--
Secret plans of Anjou--Dunkirk, Ostend, and other towns surprised by
his adherents--Failure at Bruges--Suspicions at Antwerp--Duplicity
of Anjou--The "French Fury"--Details of that transaction--
Discomfiture and disgrace of the Duke--His subsequent effrontery--
His letters to the magistracy of Antwerp, to, the Estates, and to
Orange--Extensive correspondence between Anjou and the French Court
with Orange and the Estates--Difficult position of the Prince--His
policy--Remarkable letter to the States-general--Provisional
arrangement with Anjou--Marriage of the Archbishop of Cologne--
Marriage of Orange with Louisa de Coligny--Movements in Holland,
Brabant, Flanders, and other provinces, to induce the Prince to
accept sovereignty over the whole country--His steady refusal--
Treason of Van den Berg in Gueldres--Intrigues of Prince Chimay and
Imbize in Flanders--Counter efforts of Orange and the patriot party
--Fate of Imbize--Reconciliation of Bruges--Death of Anjou
During the course of the year 1582, the military operations on both sides
had been languid and desultory, the Prince of Parma, not having a large
force at his command, being comparatively inactive. In consequence,
however, of the treaty concluded between the United states and Anjou,
Parma had persuaded the Walloon provinces that it had now become
absolutely necessary for them to permit the entrance of fresh Italian and
Spanish troops. This, then, was the end of the famous provision against
foreign soldiery in the Walloon treaty of reconciliation. The Abbot of
Saint Vaast was immediately despatched on a special mission to Spain, and
the troops, by midsummer, had already begun to pour, into the
Netherlands.
In the meantime, Farnese, while awaiting these reinforcements, had not
been idle, but had been quietly picking up several important cities.
Early in the spring he had laid siege to Oudenarde, a place of
considerable importance upon the Scheld, and celebrated as the birthplace
of his grandmother, Margaret van Geest. The burghers were obstinate; the
defence was protracted; the sorties were bold; the skirmishes frequent
and sanguinary: Alexander commanded personally in the trenches,
encouraging his men by his example, and often working with the mattock,
or handling a spear in the assault, Like a private pioneer or soldier.
Towards the end of the siege, he scarcely ever left the scene of
operation, and he took his meals near the outer defences, that he might
lose no opportunity of superintending the labors of his troops. One day
his dinner was laid for himself and staff in the open air, close to the
entrenchment. He was himself engaged in planting a battery against a weak
point in the city wall, and would on no account withdraw for all instant.
The tablecloth was stretched over a number of drum-heads, placed close
together, and several, nobles of distinction--Aremberg, Montigny,
Richebourg, La Motte, and others, were his guests at dinner. Hardly had
the repast commenced, when a ball came flying over the table, taking off
the head of a young Walloon officer who was sitting near Parma, and, who
was earnestly requesting a foremost place in the morrow's assault. A
portion of his skull struck out the eye of another gentleman present. A
second ball from the town fortifications, equally well directed,
destroyed two more of the guests as they sat at the banquet--one a German
captain, the other the Judge-Advocate-General. The blood and brains of
these unfortunate individuals were strewn over the festive board, and the
others all started to their feet, having little appetite left for their
dinner. Alexander alone remained in his seat, manifesting no
discomposure. Quietly ordering the attendants to remove the dead bodies,
and to bring a clean tablecloth, he insisted that his guests should
resume their places at the banquet which had been interrupted in such
ghastly fashion. He stated with very determined aspect that he could not
allow the heretic burghers of Oudenarde the triumph of frightening him
from his dinner, or from the post of danger. The other gentlemen could,
of course, do no less than imitate the impassibility of their chief, and
the repast was accordingly concluded without further interruption. Not
long afterwards, the city, close pressed by so determined a commander,
accepted terms, which were more favorable by reason of the respect which
Alexander chose to render to his mother's birthplace. The pillage was
commuted for thirty thousand, crowns, and on the 5th of July the place
was surrendered to Parma almost under the very eyes of Anjou, who was
making a demonstration of relieving the siege.
Ninove, a citadel then belonging to the Egmont family, was next reduced.
Here, too, the defence was more obstinate than could have been expected
from the importance of the place, and as the autumn advanced, Parma's
troops were nearly starved in their trenches, from the insufficient
supplies furnished them. They had eaten no meat but horseflesh for weeks,
and even that was gone. The cavalry horses were all consumed, and even
the chargers of the officers were not respected. An aid-de-camp of Parma
fastened his steed one day at the door of the Prince's tent, while he
entered to receive his commander's instructions. When he came out again,
a few minutes afterwards, he found nothing but the saddle and bridle
hanging where he had fastened the horse. Remonstrance was useless, for
the animal had already been cut into quarters, and the only satisfaction
offered to the aid-de-camp was in the shape of a steak. The famine was
long familiarly known as the "Ninove starvation," but notwithstanding
this obstacle, the place was eventually surrendered.
An attempt upon Lochum, an important city, in Gelderland, was
unsuccessful, the place being relieved by the Duke of Anjou's forces, and
Parma's troops forced to abandon the siege. At Steenwyk, the royal arms
were more successful, Colonel Tassis, conducted by a treacherous Frisian
peasant, having surprised the city which had so, long and so manfully
sustained itself against Renneberg during the preceding winter. With this
event the active operations under Parma closed for the year. By the end
of the autumn, however, he had the satisfaction of numbering, under his
command, full sixty thousand well-appointed and disciplined troops,
including the large reinforcements recently despatched: from Spain and
Italy. The monthly expense of this army-half of which was required for
garrison duty, leaving only the other moiety for field Operations--was
estimated at six hundred and fifty thousand florins. The forces under
Anjou and the united provinces were also largely increased, so that the
marrow of the land was again in fair way of being thoroughly exhausted by
its defenders and its foes.
The incidents of Anjou's administration, meantime, during the year 1582,
had been few and of no great importance. After the pompous and elaborate
"homage-making" at Antwerp, he had, in the month of July, been formally
accepted, by writing, as Duke of Guelders and Lord of Friesland. In the
same month he had been ceremoniously, inaugurated at Bruges as Count of
Flanders--an occasion upon which the Prince of Orange had been present.
In that ancient and stately city there had been, accordingly, much
marching about under triumphal arches, much cannonading and haranguing,
much symbol work of suns dispelling fogs, with other cheerful emblems,
much decoration of ducal shoulders with velvet robes lined with weasel
skin, much blazing of tar-barrels and torches. In the midst of this
event, an attempt was made upon the lives both of Orange and Anjou. An
Italian, named Basa, and a Spaniard, called Salseda, were detected in a
scheme to administer poison to both princes, and when arrested, confessed
that they had been hired by the Prince of Parma to compass this double
assassination. Basa destroyed himself in prison. His body was, however,
gibbeted, with an inscription that he had attempted, at the instigation
of Parma, to take the lives of Orange and Anjou. Salseda, less fortunate,
was sent to Paris, where he was found guilty, and executed by being torn
to pieces by four horses. Sad to relate, Lamoral Egmont, younger son and
namesake of the great general, was intimate with Salseda, and implicated
in this base design. His mother, on her death-bed, had especially
recommended the youth to the kindly care of Orange. The Prince had ever
recognized the claim, manifesting uniform tenderness for the son of his
ill-started friend; and now the youthful Lamoral--as if the name of
Egmont had not been sufficiently contaminated by the elder brother's
treason at Brussels--had become the comrade of hired conspirators against
his guardian's life. The affair was hushed up, but the story was current
and generally believed that Egmont had himself undertaken to destroy the
Prince at his own table by means of poison which he kept concealed in a
ring. Saint Aldegonde was to have been taken off in the same way, and a
hollow ring filled with poison was said to have been found in Egmont's
lodgings.
The young noble was imprisoned; his guilt was far from doubtful; but the
powerful intercessions of Orange himself, combined with Egmont's near
relationship to the French Queen saved his life, and he was permitted,
after a brief captivity, to take his departure for France.
The Duke of Anjou, a month later, was received with equal pomp, in the
city of Ghent. Here the ceremonies were interrupted in another manner.
The Prince of Parma, at the head of a few regiments of Walloons, making
an attack on a body of troops by which Anjou had been escorted into
Flanders, the troops retreated in good order, and without much loss,
under the walls of Ghent, where a long and sharp action took place, much
to the disadvantage of Parma, The Prince, of Orange and the Duke; of
Anjou were on the city walls during the whole skirmish giving orders and
superintending the movements of their troops, and at nightfall Parma was
forced, to retire, leaving a large number of dead behind him.
The 15th day of December, in this year was celebrated according to the
new ordinance of Gregory the Thirteenth--as Christmas. It was the
occasion of more than usual merry-making among the Catholics of Antwerp,
who had procured, during the preceding summer, a renewed right of public
worship from Anjou and the estates. Many nobles of high rank came from
France, to pay their homage to the new Duke of Brabant. They secretly
expressed their disgust, however, at the close constitutional bonds in
which they found their own future sovereign imprisoned by the provinces.
They thought it far beneath the dignity of the "Son of France" to play
the secondary part of titular Duke of Brabant, Count of Flanders, Lord of
Friesland, and the like, while the whole power of government was lodged
with the states. They whispered that it was time to take measures for the
incorporation of the Netherlands into France, and they persuaded the
false and fickle Anjou that there would never be any hope of his royal
brother's assistance, except upon the understanding that the blood and
treasure of Frenchmen were to be spent to increase the power, not of
upstart and independent provinces, but of the French crown.
They struck the basest chords of the Duke's base nature by awakening his
jealousy of Orange. His whole soul vibrated to the appeal. He already
hated the man by whose superior intellect he was overawed, and by whose
pure character he was shamed. He stoutly but secretly swore that he would
assert his own rights; and that he would no longer serve as a shadow, a
statue, a zero, a Matthias. It is needless to add, that neither in his
own judgment nor in that of his mignons, were the constitutional articles
which he had recently sworn to support, or the solemn treaty which he had
signed and sealed at Bordeaux, to furnish any obstacles to his seizure of
unlimited power, whenever the design could be cleverly accomplished. He
rested not, day or night, in the elaboration of his plan.
Early in January, 1583, he sent one night for several of his intimate
associates, to consult with him after he had retired to bed. He
complained of the insolence of the states, of the importunity of the
council which they had forced upon him, of the insufficient sums which
they furnished both for him and his troops, of the daily insults offered
to the Catholic religion. He protested that he should consider himself
disgraced in the eyes of all Christendom, should he longer consent to
occupy his present ignoble position. But two ways were open to him, he
observed; either to retire altogether from the Nether lands, or to
maintain his authority with the strong hand, as became a prince. The
first course would cover him with disgrace. It was therefore necessary
for him to adopt the other. He then unfolded his plan to his confidential
friends, La Fougere, De Fazy, Palette, the sons of Marechal Biron, and
others. Upon the same day, if possible, he was determined to take
possession, with his own troops, of the principal cities in Flanders.
Dunkirk, Dixmuyde, Denremonde, Bruges, Ghent, Vilvoorde, Alost, and other
important places, were to be simultaneously invaded, under pretext of
quieting tumults artfully created and encouraged between the burghers and
the garrisons, while Antwerp was reserved for his own especial
enterprise. That important capital he would carry by surprise at the same
moment in which the other cities were to be secured by his lieutenants.
The plot was pronounced an excellent one by the friends around his
bed--all of them eager for Catholic supremacy, for the establishment of
the right divine on the part of France to the Netherlands, and for their
share in the sacking of so many wealthy cities at once. These worthless
mignons applauded their weak master to the echo; whereupon the Duke
leaped from his bed, and kneeling on the floor in his night-gown, raised
his eyes and his clasped hands to heaven, and piously invoked the
blessing of the Almighty upon the project which he had thus announced. He
added the solemn assurance that; if favored with success in his
undertaking, he would abstain in future from all unchastity, and forego
the irregular habits by which his youth had been stained. Having thus
bribed the Deity, and received the encouragement of his flatterers, the
Duke got into bed again. His next care was to remove the Seigneur du
Plessis, whom he had observed to be often in colloquy with the Prince of
Orange, his suspicious and guilty imagination finding nothing but
mischief to himself in the conjunction of two such natures. He therefore
dismissed Du Plessis, under pretext of a special mission to his sister,
Margaret of Navarre; but in reality, that he might rid himself of the
presence of an intelligent and honorable countryman.
On the a 15th January, 1583, the day fixed for the execution of the plot,
the French commandant of Dunkirk, Captain Chamois, skillfully took
advantage of a slight quarrel between the citizens and the garrison, to
secure that important frontier town. The same means were employed
simultaneously, with similar results, at Ostend, Dixmuyde, Denremonde,
Alost, and Vilvoorde, but there was a fatal delay at one important city.
La Fougere, who had been with Chamois at Dunkirk, was arrested on his way
to Bruges by some patriotic citizens who had got wind of what had just
been occurring in the other cities, so that when Palette, the provost of
Anjou, and Colonel la Rebours, at the head of fifteen hundred French
troops, appeared before the gates, entrance was flatly refused. De
Grijse, burgomaster of Bruges, encouraged his fellow townsmen by words
and stout action, to resist the nefarious project then on foot against
religious liberty and free government, in favor of a new foreign tyranny.
He spoke to men who could sympathize with, and second his courageous
resolution, and the delay of twenty-four hours, during which the burghers
had time to take the alarm, saved the city. The whole population was on
the alert, and the baffled Frenchmen were forced to retire from the
gates, to avoid being torn to pieces by the citizens whom they had
intended to surprise.
At Antwerp, meanwhile, the Duke of Anjou had been rapidly maturing his
plan, under pretext of a contemplated enterprise against the city of
Endhoven, having concentrated what he esteemed a sufficient number of
French troops at Borgerhout, a village close to the walls of Antwerp.
On the 16th of January, suspicion was aroused in the city. A man in a
mask entered the main guard-house in the night, mysteriously gave warning
that a great crime was in contemplation, and vanished before he could be
arrested. His accent proved him to be a Frenchman. Strange rumors flew
about the streets. A vague uneasiness pervaded the whole population as to
the intention of their new master, but nothing was definitely known, for
of course there was entire ignorance of the events which were just
occurring in other cities. The colonels and captains of the burgher guard
came to consult the Prince of Orange. He avowed the most entire
confidence in the Duke of Anjou, but, at the same time; recommended that
the chains should be drawn, the lanterns hung out, and the drawbridge
raised an hour earlier than usual, and that other precautions; customary
in the expectation of an attack, should be duly taken. He likewise sent
the Burgomaster of the interior, Dr. Alostanus, to the Duke of Anjou, in
order to communicate the suspicions created in the minds of the city
authorities by the recent movements of troops.
Anjou, thus addressed, protested in the most solemn manner that nothing
was farther from his thoughts than any secret enterprise against Antwerp.
He was willing, according to the figure of speech which he had always
ready upon every emergency, "to shed every drop of his blood in her
defence." He swore that he would signally punish all those who had dared
to invent such calumnies against himself and his faithful Frenchmen,
declaring earnestly, at the same time, that the troops had only been
assembled in the regular course of their duty. As the Duke was so loud
and so fervent; as he, moreover, made no objections to the precautionary
measures which had been taken; as the burgomaster thought, moreover, that
the public attention thus aroused would render all evil designs futile,
even if any had been entertained; it was thought that the city might
sleep in security for that night at least.
On the following, morning, as vague suspicions were still entertained by
many influential persons, a deputation of magistrates and militia
officers waited upon the Duke, the Prince of Orange--although
himself still feeling a confidence which seems now almost
inexplicable--consenting to accompany them. The Duke was more vehement
than ever in his protestations of loyalty to his recent oaths, as well as
of deep affection for the Netherlands--for Brabant in particular, and for
Antwerp most of all, and he made use of all his vivacity to persuade the
Prince, the burgomasters, and the colonels, that they had deeply wronged
him by such unjust suspicions. His assertions were accepted as sincere,
and the deputation withdrew, Anjou having first solemnly promised--at the
suggestion of Orange--not to leave the city during the whole day, in
order that unnecessary suspicion might be prevented.
This pledge the Duke proceeded to violate almost as soon as made. Orange
returned with confidence to his own house, which was close to the
citadel, and therefore far removed from the proposed point of attack, but
he had hardly arrived there when he received a visit from the Duke's
private secretary, Quinsay, who invited him to accompany his Highness on
a visit to the camp. Orange declined the request, and sent an earnest
prayer to the Duke not to leave the city that morning. The Duke dined as
usual at noon. While at dinner he received a letter; was observed to turn
pale on reading it, and to conceal it hastily in a muff which he wore on
his left arm. The repast finished, the Duke ordered his horse. The animal
was restive, and so, strenuously resisted being mounted that, although it
was his usual charger; it was exchanged for another. This second horse
started in such a flurry that the Duke lost his cloak, and almost his
seat. He maintained his self-possession, however, and placing himself at
the head of his bodyguard and some troopers, numbering in all three
hundred mounted men, rode out of the palace-yard towards the Kipdorp
gate.
This portal opened on the road towards Borgerhout, where his troops were
stationed, and at the present day bears the name of that village: It is
on the side of the city farthest removed from and exactly opposite the
river. The town was very quiet, the streets almost deserted; for it was
one o'clock, the universal dinner-hour, and all suspicion had been
disarmed by the energetic protestations of the Duke. The guard at the
gate looked listlessly upon the cavalcade as it approached, but as soon
as Anjou had crossed the first drawbridge, he rose in his stirrups and
waved his hand. "There is your city, my lads," said he to the troopers
behind him; "go and take possession of it!"
At the same time he set spurs to his horse, and galloped off towards the
camp at Borgerhout. Instantly afterwards; a gentleman of his suite, Count
Bochepot, affected to have broken his leg through the plunging of his
horse, a circumstance by which he had been violently pressed, against the
wall as he entered the gate. Kaiser, the commanding officer at the
guard-house, stepped kindly forward to render him assistance, and his
reward was a desperate thrust from the Frenchman's rapier. As he wore a
steel cuirass, he fortunately escaped with a slight wound.
The expression, "broken leg," was the watch-word, for at one and the same
instant, the troopers and guardsmen of Anjou set upon the burgher watch
at the gate, and butchered every man. A sufficient force was left to
protect the entrance thus easily mastered, while the rest of the
Frenchmen entered the town at full gallop, shrieking "Ville gaignee,
ville gaignee! vive la messe! vive le Due d'Anjou!" They were followed by
their comrades from the camp outside, who now poured into the town at the
preconcerted signal, at least six hundred cavalry and three thousand
musketeers, all perfectly appointed, entering Antwerp at once. From the
Kipdorp gate two main arteries--the streets called the Kipdorp and the
Meer--led quite through the heart of the city, towards the townhouse and
the river beyond. Along these great thoroughfares the French soldiers
advanced at a rapid pace; the cavalry clattering furiously in the van,
shouting "Ville gaignee, ville gaignee! vive la messe, vive la messe!
tue, tue, tue!"
The burghers coming to door and window to look for the cause of all this
disturbance, were saluted with volleys of musketry. They were for a
moment astonished, but not appalled, for at first they believed it to be
merely an accidental tumult. Observing, however, that the soldiers,
meeting with but little effective resistance, were dispersing into
dwellings and warehouses, particularly into the shops of the goldsmiths
and lapidaries, the citizens remembered the dark suspicions which had
been so rife, and many recalled to mind that distinguished French
officers had during the last few days been carefully examining the
treasures of the jewellers, under pretext of purchasing, but, as it now
appeared, with intent to rob intelligently.
The burghers, taking this rapid view of their position, flew instantly to
arms. Chains and barricades were stretched across the streets; the
trumpets sounded through the city; the municipal guards swarmed to the
rescue. An effective rally was made, as usual, at the Bourse, whither a
large detachment of the invaders had forced their way. Inhabitants of all
classes and conditions, noble and simple, Catholic and Protestant, gave
each other the hand, and swore to die at each other's side in defence of
the city against the treacherous strangers. The gathering was rapid and
enthusiastic. Gentlemen came with lance and cuirass, burghers with musket
and bandoleer, artisans with axe, mallet, and other implements of their
trade. A bold baker, standing by his oven-stark naked, according to the
custom of bakers at that day--rushed to the street as the sound of the
tumult reached his ear. With his heavy bread shovel, which he still held
in his hand, he dealt a French cavalry, officer, just riding and
screaming by, such a hearty blow that he fell dead from his horse. The
baker seized the officer's sword, sprang all unattired as he was, upon
his steed, and careered furiously through the streets, encouraging his
countrymen everywhere to the attack, and dealing dismay through the ranks
of the enemy. His services in that eventful hour were so signal that he
was publicly thanked afterwards by the magistrates for his services, and
rewarded with a pension of three hundred florins for life.
The invaders had been forced from the Bourse, while another portion of
them had penetrated as far as the Market-place. The resistance which they
encountered became every instant more formidable, and Fervacques, a
leading French officer, who was captured on the occasion, acknowledged
that no regular troops could have fought more bravely than did these
stalwart burghers. Women and children mounted to roof and window, whence
they hurled, not only tiles and chimney pots, but tables, ponderous
chairs, and other bulky articles, upon the heads of the assailants, while
such citizens as had used all their bullets, loaded their pieces with the
silver buttons from their doublets, or twisted gold and silver coins with
their teeth into ammunition. With a population so resolute, the four
thousand invaders, however audacious, soon found themselves swallowed up.
The city had closed over them like water, and within an hour nearly a
third of their whole number had been slain. Very few of the burghers had
perished, and fresh numbers were constantly advancing to the attack. The
Frenchmen, blinded, staggering, beaten, attempted to retreat. Many threw
themselves from the fortifications into the moat. The rest of the
survivors struggled through the streets--falling in large numbers at
every step-towards the point at which they had so lately entered the
city. Here at the Kipdorp gate was a ghastly spectacle, the slain being
piled up in the narrow passage full ten feet high, while some of the
heap, not quite dead, were striving to extricate a hand or foot, and
others feebly thrust forth their heads to gain a mouthful of air.
From the outside, some of Anjou's officers were attempting to climb over
this mass of bodies in order to enter the city; from the interior, the
baffled and fugitive remnant of their comrades were attempting to force
their passage through the same horrible barrier; while many dropped at,
every instant upon the heap of slain, under the blows of the unrelenting
burghers. On the other hand, Count Rochepot himself, to whom the
principal command of the enterprise had been entrusted by Anjou, stood
directly in the path of his fugitive soldiers, not only bitterly
upbraiding them with their cowardice, but actually slaying ten or twelve
of them with his own hands, as the most effectual mode of preventing
their retreat. Hardly an hour had elapsed from the time when the Duke of
Anjou first rode out of the Kipdorp gate, before nearly the whole of the
force which he had sent to accomplish his base design was either dead or
captive. Two hundred and fifty nobles of high rank and illustrious name
were killed; recognized at once as they lay in the streets by their
magnificent costume. A larger number of the gallant chivalry of France
had been sacrificed--as Anjou confessed--in this treacherous and most
shameful enterprise, than had often fallen upon noble and honorable
fields. Nearly two thousand of the rank and file had perished, and the
rest were prisoners. It was at first asserted that exactly fifteen
hundred and eighty-three Frenchmen had fallen, but this was only because
this number happened to be the date of the year, to which the lovers of
marvellous coincidences struggled very hard to make the returns of the
dead correspond. Less than one hundred burghers lost their lives.
Anjou, as he looked on at a distance, was bitterly reproached for his
treason by several of the high-minded gentlemen about his person, to whom
he had not dared to confide his plot. The Duke of Montpensier protested
vehemently that he washed his hands of the whole transaction, whatever
might be the issue. He was responsible for the honor of an illustrious
house, which should never be stained, he said, if he could prevent it,
with such foul deeds. The same language was held by Laval, by
Rochefoucauld, and by the Marechal de Biron, the last gentleman, whose
two sons were engaged in the vile enterprise, bitterly cursing the Duke
to his face, as he rode through the gate after revealing his secret
undertaking.
Meanwhile, Anjou, in addition to the punishment of hearing these
reproaches from men of honor, was the victim of a rapid and violent
fluctuation of feeling. Hope, fear, triumph, doubt, remorse, alternately
swayed him. As he saw the fugitives leaping from the walls, he shouted
exultingly, without accurately discerning what manner of men they were,
that the city was his, that four thousand of his brave soldiers were
there, and were hurling the burghers from the battlements. On being made
afterwards aware of his error, he was proportionably depressed; and when
it was obvious at last that the result of the enterprise was an absolute
and disgraceful failure, together with a complete exposure of his
treachery, he fairly mounted his horse, and fled conscience-stricken from
the scene.
The attack had been so unexpected, in consequence of the credence that
had been rendered by Orange and the magistracy to the solemn
protestations of the Duke, that it had been naturally out of any one's
power to prevent the catastrophe. The Prince was lodged in apart of the
town remote from the original scene of action, and it does not appear
that information had reached him that anything unusual was occurring,
until the affair was approaching its termination. Then there was little
for him to do. He hastened, however, to the scene, and mounting the
ramparts, persuaded the citizens to cease cannonading the discomfited and
retiring foe. He felt the full gravity of the situation, and the
necessity of diminishing the rancor of the inhabitants against their
treacherous allies, if such a result were yet possible. The burghers had
done their duty, and it certainly would have been neither in his power
nor his inclination to protect the French marauders from expulsion and
castigation.
Such was the termination of the French Fury, and it seems sufficiently
strange that it should have been so much less disastrous to Antwerp than
was the Spanish Fury of 1576, to which men could still scarcely allude
without a shudder. One would have thought the French more likely to prove
successful in their enterprise than the Spaniards in theirs. The
Spaniards were enemies against whom the city had long been on its guard.
The French were friends in whose sincerity a somewhat shaken confidence
had just been restored. When the Spanish attack was made, a large force
of defenders was drawn up in battle array behind freshly strengthened
fortifications. When the French entered at leisure through a scarcely
guarded gate, the whole population and garrison of the town were quietly
eating their dinners. The numbers of the invading forces on the two
occasions did not materially differ; but at the time of the French Fury
there was not a large force of regular troops under veteran generals to
resist the attack. Perhaps this was the main reason for the result, which
seems at first almost inexplicable. For protection against the Spanish
invasion, the burghers relied on mercenaries, some of whom proved
treacherous, while the rest became panic-struck. On the present occasion
the burghers relied on themselves. Moreover, the French committed the
great error of despising their enemy. Recollecting the ease with which
the Spaniards had ravished the city, they believed that they had nothing
to do but to enter and take possession. Instead of repressing their
greediness, as the Spaniards had done, until they had overcome
resistance, they dispersed almost immediately into by-streets, and
entered warehouses to search for plunder. They seemed actuated by a fear
that they should not have time to rifle the city before additional troops
should be sent by Anjou to share in the spoil. They were less used to the
sacking of Netherland cities than were the Spaniards, whom long practice
had made perfect in the art of methodically butchering a population at
first, before attention should be diverted to plundering, and
supplementary outrages. At any rate, whatever the causes, it is certain
that the panic, which upon such occasions generally decides the fate of
the day, seized upon the invaders and not upon the invaded, almost from
the very first. As soon as the marauders faltered in their purpose and
wished to retreat, it was all over with them. Returning was worse than
advance, and it was the almost inevitable result that hardly a man
escaped death or capture.
The Duke retreated the same day in the direction of Denremonde, and on
his way met with another misfortune, by which an additional number of his
troops lost their lives. A dyke was cut by the Mechlin citizens to impede
his march, and the swollen waters of the Dill, liberated and flowing
across the country which he was to traverse, produced such an inundation,
that at least a thousand of his followers were drowned.
As soon as he had established himself in a camp near Berghem, he opened a
correspondence with the Prince of Orange, and with the authorities of
Antwerp. His language was marked by wonderful effrontery. He found
himself and soldiers suffering for want of food; he remembered that he
had left much plate and valuable furniture in Antwerp; and he was
therefore desirous that the citizens, whom he had so basely outraged,
should at once send him supplies and restore his property. He also
reclaimed the prisoners who still remained in the city, and to obtain all
this he applied to the man whom he had bitterly deceived, and whose life
would have been sacrificed by the Duke, had the enterprise succeeded.
It had been his intention to sack the city, to re-establish exclusively
the Roman Catholic worship, to trample upon the constitution which he had
so recently sworn to maintain, to deprive Orange, by force, of the
Renversal by which the Duke recognized the Prince as sovereign of
Holland; Zealand; and Utrecht, yet notwithstanding that his treason
had-been enacted in broad daylight, and in a most deliberate manner, he
had the audacity to ascribe the recent tragic occurrences to chance. He
had the farther originality to speak of himself as an aggrieved person,
who had rendered great services to the Netherlands, and who had only met
with ingratitude in return. His envoys, Messieurs Landmater and
Escolieres, despatched on the very day of the French Fury to the
burgomasters and senate of Antwerp, were instructed to remind those
magistrates that the Duke had repeatedly exposed his life in the cause of
the Netherlands. The affronts, they were to add, which he had received,
and the approaching ruin of the country, which he foresaw, had so altered
his excellent nature, as to engender the present calamity, which he
infinitely regretted. Nevertheless, the senate was to be assured that his
affection for the commonwealth was still so strong, as to induce a desire
on his part to be informed what course was now to be pursued with, regard
to him. Information upon that important point was therefore to be
requested, while at the same time the liberation of the prisoners at
Antwerp, and the restaration of the Duke's furniture and papers, were to
be urgently demanded.
Letters of similar, import were also despatched by the Duke to the states
of the Union, while to the Prince of Orange; his application was brief
but brazen. "You know well,--my cousin," said he "the just and frequent
causes of offence which this people has given me. The insults which I,
this morning experienced cut me so deeply to the heart that they are the
only reasons of the misfortune which has happened today. Nevertheless, to
those who desire my friendship I shall show equal friendship and
affection. Herein I shall follow the counsel you have uniformly given me,
since I know it comes from one who has always loved me. Therefore I beg
that you will kindly bring it to pass, that I may obtain some decision,
and that no injury may be inflicted upon my people. Otherwise the land
shall pay for it dearly."
To these appeals, neither the Prince nor the authorities of Antwerp
answered immediately in their own names. A general consultation was,
however, immediately held with the estates-general, and an answer
forthwith despatched to the Duke by the hands of his envoys. It was
agreed to liberate the prisoners, to restore the furniture, and to send a
special deputation for the purpose of making further arrangements with
the Duke by word of mouth, and for this deputation his Highness was
requested to furnish a safe conduct.
Anjou was overjoyed when he received this amicable communication.
Relieved for a time from his fears as to the result of his crime, he
already assumed a higher ground. He not only spoke to the states in a
paternal tone, which was sufficiently ludicrous, but he had actually the
coolness to assure them of his forgiveness. "He felt hurt," he said,
"that they should deem a safe conduct necessary for the deputation which
they proposed to send. If they thought that he had reason on account of
the past, to feel offended, he begged them to believe that he had
forgotten it all, and that he had buried the past in its ashes, even as
if it had never been." He furthermore begged them--and this seemed the
greatest insult of all--"in future to trust to his word, and to believe
that if any thing should be attempted to their disadvantage, he would be
the very first to offer himself for their protection."
It will be observed that in his first letters the Duke had not affected
to deny his agency in the outrage--an agency so flagrant that all
subterfuge seemed superfluous. He in fact avowed that the attempt had
been made by his command, but sought to palliate the crime on the ground
that it had been the result of the ill-treatment which he had experienced
from the states. "The affronts which I have received," said he, both to
the magistrates of Antwerp and to Orange, "have engendered the present
calamity." So also, in a letter written at the same time to his brother,
Henry the Third, he observed that "the indignities which were put upon
him, and the manifest intention of the states to make a Matthias of him,
had been the cause of the catastrophe."
He now, however, ventured a step farther. Presuming upon the indulgence
which he had already experienced; and bravely assuming the tone of
injured innocence, he ascribed the enterprise partly to accident, and
partly to the insubordination of his troops. This was the ground which he
adopted in his interviews with the states' commissioners. So also, in a
letter addressed to Van der Tympel, commandant of Brussels, in which he
begged for supplies for his troops, he described the recent invasion of
Antwerp as entirely unexpected by himself, and beyond his control. He had
been intending, he said, to leave the city and to join his army. A tumult
had accidentally arisen between his soldiers and the guard at the gate.
Other troops rushing in from without, had joined in the affray, so that
to, his great sorrow, an extensive disorder had arisen. He manifested the
same Christian inclination to forgive, however, which he had before
exhibited. He observed that "good men would never grow cold in his
regard, or find his affection diminished." He assured Van der Tympel, in
particular, of his ancient goodwill, as he knew him to be a lover of the
common weal.
In his original communications he had been both cringing and threatening
but, at least, he had not denied truths which were plain as daylight. His
new position considerably damaged his cause. This forgiving spirit on the
part of the malefactor was a little more than the states could bear,
disposed as they felt, from policy, to be indulgent, and to smooth over
the crime as gently as possible. The negotiations were interrupted, and
the authorities of Antwerp published a brief and spirited defence of
their own conduct. They denied that any affront or want of respect on
their part could have provoked the outrage of which the Duke had been
guilty. They severely handled his self-contradiction, in ascribing
originally the recent attempt to his just vengeance for past injuries,
and in afterwards imputing it to accident or sudden mutiny, while they
cited the simultaneous attempts at Bruges, Denremonde, Alost, Digmuyde,
Newport, Ostend, Vilvoorde, and Dunkirk, as a series of damning proofs of
a deliberate design.
The publication of such plain facts did not advance the negotiations when
resumed. High and harsh words were interchanged between his Highness and
the commissioners, Anjou complaining, as usual, of affronts and
indignities, but when pushed home for particulars, taking refuge in
equivocation. "He did not wish," he said, "to re-open wounds which had
been partially healed." He also affected benignity, and wishing to
forgive and to forget, he offered some articles as the basis of a fresh
agreement. Of these it is sufficient to state that they were entirely
different from the terms of the Bordeaux treaty, and that they were
rejected as quite inadmissible.
He wrote again to the Prince of Orange, invoking his influence to bring
about an arrangement. The Prince, justly indignant at the recent
treachery and the present insolence of the man whom he had so profoundly
trusted, but feeling certain that the welfare of the country depended at
present upon avoiding, if possible, a political catastrophe, answered the
Duke in plain, firm, mournful, and appropriate language. He had ever
manifested to his Highness, he said, the most uniform and sincere
friendship. He had, therefore, the right to tell him that affairs were
now so changed that his greatness and glory had departed. Those men in
the Netherlands, who, but yesterday, had been willing to die at the feet
of his Highness, were now so exasperated that they avowedly preferred an
open enemy to a treacherous protector. He had hoped, he said, that after
what had happened in so many cities at the same moment, his Highness
would have been pleased to give the deputies a different and a more
becoming answer. He had hoped for some response which might lead to an
arrangement. He, however, stated frankly, that the articles transmitted
by his Highness were so unreasonable that no man in the land would dare
open his mouth to recommend them. His Highness, by this proceeding, had
much deepened the distrust. He warned the Duke accordingly, that he was
not taking the right course to reinstate himself in a position of honor
and glory, and he begged him, therefore, to adopt more appropriate means.
Such a step was now demanded of him, not only by the country, but by all
Christendom.
This moderate but heartfelt appeal to the better nature of the Duke, if
he had a better nature, met with no immediate response.
While matters were in this condition, a special envoy arrived out of
France, despatched by the King and Queen-mother, on the first reception
of the recent intelligence from Antwerp. M. de Mirambeau, the ambassador,
whose son had been killed in the Fury, brought letters of credence to the
states of the Union and to the Prince of Orange. He delivered also a
short confidential note, written in her own hand, from Catherine de
Medici to the Prince, to the following effect:
"My COUSIN,--The King, my son, and myself, send you Monsieur de
Mirambeau, to prove to you that we do not believe--for we esteem you an
honorable man--that you would manifest ingratitude to my son, and to
those who have followed him for the welfare of your country. We feel that
you have too much affection for one who has the support of so powerful a
prince as the King of France, as to play him so base a trick. Until I
learn the truth, I shall not renounce the good hope which I have always
indulged--that you would never have invited my son to your country,
without intending to serve him faithfully. As long as you do this, you
may ever reckon on the support of all who belong to him.
"Your good Cousin,
"CATHERINE."
It would have been very difficult to extract much information or much
comfort from this wily epistle. The menace was sufficiently plain, the
promise disagreeably vague. Moreover, a letter from the same Catherine de
Medici, had been recently found in a casket at the Duke's lodgings in
Antwerp. In that communication, she had distinctly advised her son to
re-establish the Roman Catholic religion, assuring him that by so doing,
he would be enabled to marry the Infanta of Spain. Nevertheless, the
Prince, convinced that it was his duty to bridge over the deep and fatal
chasm which had opened between the French Prince and the provinces, if an
honorable reconciliation were possible, did not attach an undue
importance either to the stimulating or to the upbraiding portion of the
communication from Catherine. He was most anxious to avert the chaos
which he saw returning. He knew that while the tempers of Rudolph, of the
English Queen, and of the Protestant princes of Germany, and the internal
condition of the Netherlands remained the same, it were madness to
provoke the government of France, and thus gain an additional enemy,
while losing their only friend. He did not renounce the hope of forming
all the Netherlands--excepting of course the Walloon provinces already
reconciled to Philip--into one independent commonwealth, freed for ever
from Spanish tyranny. A dynasty from a foreign house he was willing to
accept, but only on condition that the new royal line should become
naturalized in the Netherlands, should, conform itself to the strict
constitutional compact established, and should employ only natives in the
administration of Netherland affairs. Notwithstanding, therefore, the
recent treachery of Anjou, he was willing to treat with him upon the
ancient basis. The dilemma was a very desperate one, for whatever might
be his course, it was impossible that it should escape censure. Even at
this day, it is difficult to decide what might have been the result of
openly braving the French government, and expelling Anjou. The Prince of
Parma--subtle, vigilant, prompt with word and blow--was waiting most
anxiously to take advantage of every false step of his adversary. The
provinces had been already summoned in most eloquent language, to take
warning by the recent fate of Antwerp, and to learn by the manifestation
just made by Anjou, of his real intentions; that their only salvation lay
in a return to the King's arms. Anjou himself, as devoid of shame as of
honor, was secretly holding interviews with Parma's agents, Acosta and
Flaminio Carnero, at the very moment when he was alternately expressing
to the states his resentment that they dared to doubt his truth, or
magnanimously extending to them his pardon for their suspicions. He was
writing letters full of injured innocence to Orange and to the states,
while secretly cavilling over the terms of the treaty by which he was to
sell himself to Spain. Scruples as to enacting so base a part did not
trouble the "Son of France." He did not hesitate at playing this doubly
and trebly false game with the provinces, but he was anxious to drive the
best possible bargain for himself with Parma. He, offered to restore
Dunkirk, Dixmuyde, and the other cities which he had so recently filched
from the states, and to enter into a strict alliance with Philip; but he
claimed that certain Netherland cities on the French frontier, should be
made over to him in exchange. He required; likewise; ample protection for
his retreat from a country which was likely to be sufficiently
exasperated. Parma and his agents smiled, of course, at such exorbitant
terms. Nevertheless, it was necessary to deal cautiously with a man who,
although but a poor baffled rogue to-day, might to-morrow be seated on
the throne of France. While they were all secretly haggling over the
terms of the bargain, the Prince of Orange discovered the intrigue. It
convinced him of the necessity of closing with a man whose baseness was
so profound, but whose position made his enmity, on the whole, more
dangerous than his friendship. Anjou, backed by so astute and
unscrupulous a politician as Parma, was not to be trifled with. The
feeling of doubt and anxiety was spreading daily through the country:
many men, hitherto firm, were already wavering, while at the same time
the Prince had no confidence in the power of any of the states, save
those of Holland and Utrecht; to maintain a resolute attitude of
defiance, if not assisted from without.
He therefore endeavored to repair the breach, if possible, and thus save
the Union. Mirambeau, in his conferences with the estates, suggested, on
his part, all that words could effect. He expressed the hope that the
estates would use their discretion "in compounding some sweet and
friendly medicine" for the present disorder; and that they would not
judge the Duke too harshly for a fault which he assured them did not come
from his natural disposition. He warned them that the enemy would be
quick to take advantage of the present occasion to bring about, if
possible, their destruction, and he added that he was commissioned to
wait upon the Duke of Anjou, in order to assure him that, however
alienated he might then be from the Netherlands, his Majesty was
determined to effect an entire reconciliation.
The envoy conferred also with the Prince of Orange, and urged him most
earnestly to use his efforts to heal the rupture. The Prince, inspired by
the sentiments already indicated, spoke with perfect sincerity. His
Highness, he said, had never known a more faithful and zealous friend
than himself, He had begun to lose his own credit with the people by
reason of the earnestness with which he had ever advocated the Duke's
cause, and he could not flatter himself that his recommendation would now
be of any advantage to his Highness. It would be more injurious than his
silence. Nevertheless, he was willing to make use of all the influence
which was left to him for the purpose of bringing about a reconciliation,
provided that the Duke were acting in good faith. If his Highness were
now sincerely desirous of conforming to the original treaty, and willing
to atone for the faults committed by him on the same day in so many
cities--offences which could not be excused upon the ground of any
affronts which he might have received from the citizens of Antwerp--it
might even now be possible to find a remedy for the past. He very bluntly
told the envoy, however, that the frivolous excuses offered by the Duke
caused more bitterness than if he had openly acknowledged his fault. It
were better, he said, to express contrition, than to excuse himself by
laying blame on those to whom no blame belonged, but who, on the
contrary, had ever shown themselves faithful servants of his Highness.
The estates of the Union, being in great perplexity as to their proper
course, now applied formally, as they always did in times of danger and
doubt, to the Prince, for a public expression of his views. Somewhat
reluctantly, he complied with their wishes in one of the most admirable
of his state papers.
He told the states-that he felt some hesitation in expressing his views.
The blame of the general ill success was always laid upon his shoulders;
as if the chances of war could be controlled even by a great potentate
with ample means at his disposal. As for himself, with so little actual
power that he could never have a single city provided with what he
thought a sufficient garrison, it could not be expected that he could
command fortune. His advice, he said, was always asked, but ever judged
good or evil according to the result, as if the issue were in any hands
but God's. It did not seem advisable for a man of his condition and
years, who had so often felt the barb of calumny's tongue, to place his
honor, again in the judgment scale of mankind, particularly as he was
likely to incur fresh censure for another man's crime. Nevertheless, he
was willing, for the love he bore the land, once more to encounter this
danger.
He then rapidly reviewed the circumstances which had led to the election
of Anjou, and reminded the estates that they had employed sufficient time
to deliberate concerning that transaction. He recalled to their
remembrance his frequent assurances of support and sympathy if they would
provide any other means of self-protection than the treaty with the
French Prince. He thought it, therefore, unjust, now that calamity had
sprung from the measure, to ascribe the blame entirely to him, even had
the injury been greater than the one actually sustained. He was far from
palliating the crime, or from denying that the Duke's rights under the
Treaty of Bordeaux had been utterly forfeited. He was now asked what was
to be done. Of three courses, he said, one must be taken: they must make
their peace with the King, or consent to a reconciliation with Anjou, or
use all the strength which God had given them to resist, single-handed,
the enemy. With regard to the first point, he resumed the argument as to
the hopelessness of a satisfactory arrangement with the monarch of Spain.
The recent reconciliation of the Walloon provinces and its shameful
infraction by Parma in the immediate recal of large masses of Spanish and
Italian troops, showed too plainly the value of all solemn stipulations
with his Catholic Majesty. Moreover, the time was unpropitious. It was
idle to look, after what had recently occurred, for even fair promises.
It was madness then to incur the enmity of two such powers at once. The
French could do the Netherlands more harm as enemies than the Spaniards.
The Spaniards would be more dangerous as friends, for in cases of a
treaty with Philip the Inquisition would be established in the place of a
religious peace. For these reasons the Prince declared himself entirely
opposed to any negotiations with the Crown of Spain.
As to the second point, he admitted that Anjou had gained little honor by
his recent course; and that it would be a mistake on their part to
stumble a second time over the same stone. He foresaw, nevertheless, that
the Duke--irritated as he was by the loss of so many of his nobles, and
by the downfall of all his hopes in the Netherlands--would be likely to
inflict great injuries upon their cause. Two powerful nations like France
and Spain would be too much to have on their hands at once. How much
danger, too, would be incurred by braving at once the open wrath of the
French King, and, the secret displeasure of the English Queen. She had
warmly recommended the Duke of Anjou. She had said--that honors to him
were rendered to herself; and she was now entirely opposed to their
keeping the present quarrel alive. If France became their enemy, the road
was at once opened through that kingdom for Spain. The estates were to
ponder well whether they possessed the means to carry on such a double
war without assistance. They were likewise to remember how many cities
still remained in the hands of Anjou, and their possible fate if the Duke
were pushed to extremity.
The third point was then handled with vigor. He reminded the states of
the perpetual difficulty of raising armies, of collecting money to pay
for troops, of inducing cities to accept proper garrisons, of
establishing a council which could make itself respected. He alluded
briefly and bitterly to the perpetual quarrels of the states among
themselves; to their mutual jealousy; to their obstinate parsimony; to
their jealousy of the general government; to their apathy and inertness
before impending ruin. He would not calumniate those, he said, who
counselled trust in God. That was his sentiment also: To attempt great
affairs, however, and, through avarice, to-withhold sufficient means, was
not trusting, but tempting God.--On the contrary, it was trusting God to
use the means which He offered to their hands.
With regard, then, to the three points, he rejected the first.
Reconciliation with the King of Spain was impossible. For his own part,
he would much prefer the third course. He had always been in favor of
their maintaining independence by their own means and the assistance of
the Almighty. He was obliged, however, in sadness; to confess that the
narrow feeling of individual state rights, the general tendency to
disunion, and the constant wrangling, had made this course a hopeless
one. There remained, therefore, only the second, and they must effect an
honorable reconciliation with Anjou. Whatever might be their decision,
however, it was meet that it should be a speedy one. Not an hour was to
be lost. Many fair churches of God, in Anjou's power, were trembling on
the issue, and religious and political liberty was more at stake than
ever. In conclusion, the Prince again expressed his determination,
whatever might be their decision, to devote the rest of his days to the
services of his country.
The result of these representations by the Prince--of frequent letters
from Queen Elizabeth, urging a reconciliation--and of the professions
made by the Duke and the French envoys, was a provisional arrangement,
signed on the 26th and 28th of March. According to the terms of this
accord, the Duke was to receive thirty thousand florins for his troops,
and to surrender the cities still in his power. The French prisoners were
to be liberated, the Duke's property at Antwerp was to be restored, and
the Duke himself was to await at Dunkirk the arrival of plenipotentiaries
to treat with him as to a new and perpetual arrangement.
The negotiations, however, were languid. The quarrel was healed on the
surface, but confidence so recently and violently uprooted was slow to
revive. On the 28th of June, the Duke of Anjou left Dunkirk for Paris,
never to return to the Netherlands, but he exchanged on his departure
affectionate letters with the Prince and the estates. M. des Pruneaux
remained as his representative, and it was understood that the
arrangements for re-installing him as soon as possible in the sovereignty
which he had so basely forfeited, were to be pushed forward with
earnestness.
In the spring of the same year, Gerard Truchses, Archbishop of Cologne,
who had lost his see for the love of Agnes Mansfeld, whom he had espoused
in defiance of the Pope; took refuge with the Prince of Orange at Delft.
A civil war in Germany broke forth, the Protestant princes undertaking to
support the Archbishop, in opposition to Ernest of Bavaria, who had been
appointed in his place. The Palatine, John Casimir, thought it necessary
to mount and ride as usual. Making his appearance at the head of a
hastily collected force, and prepared for another plunge into chaos, he
suddenly heard, however, of his elder brother's death at Heidelberg.
Leaving his men, as was his habit, to shift for themselves, and Baron
Truchses, the Archbishop's brother, to fall into the hands of the enemy,
he disappeared from the scene with great rapidity, in order that his own
interests in the palatinate and in the guardianship of the young
palatines might not suffer by his absence.
At this time, too, on the 12th of April, the Prince of Orange was
married, for the fourth time, to Louisa, widow of the Seigneur de
Teligny, and daughter of the illustrious Coligny.
In the course of the summer, the states of Holland and Zealand, always
bitterly opposed to the connection with Anjou, and more than ever
dissatisfied with the resumption of negotiations since the Antwerp
catastrophe, sent a committee to the Prince in order to persuade him to
set his face against the whole proceedings. They delivered at the same
time a formal remonstrance, in writing (25th of August, 1583), in which
they explained how odious the arrangement with the Duke had ever been to
them. They expressed the opinion that even the wisest might be sometimes
mistaken, and that the Prince had been bitterly deceived by Anjou and by
the French court. They besought him to rely upon the assistance of the
Almighty, and upon the exertions of the nation, and they again hinted at
the propriety of his accepting that supreme sovereignty over all the
united provinces which would be so gladly conferred, while, for their own
parts, they voluntarily offered largely to increase the sums annually
contributed to the common defence.
Very soon afterwards, in August, 1583, the states of the united provinces
assembled at Middelburg formally offered the general government--which
under the circumstances was the general sovereignty--to the Prince,
warmly urging his acceptance of the dignity. He manifested, however, the
same reluctance which he had always expressed, demanding that the project
should beforehand be laid before the councils of all the large cities,
and before the estates of certain provinces which had not been
represented at the Middelburg diet. He also made use of the occasion to
urge the necessity of providing more generously for the army expenses and
other general disbursements. As to ambitious views, he was a stranger to
them, and his language at this moment was as patriotic and self-denying
as at any previous period. He expressed his thanks to the estates for
this renewed proof of their confidence in his character, and this
additional approbation of his course,--a sentiment which he was always
ready "as a good patriot to justify by his most faithful service." He
reminded them, however, that he was no great monarch, having in his own
hands the means to help and the power to liberate them; and that even
were he in possession of all which God had once given him, he should be
far from strong enough to resist, single-handed, their powerful enemy.
All that was left to him, he said, was an "honest and moderate experience
in affairs." With this he was ever ready to serve them to the utmost; but
they knew very well that the means to make that experience available were
to be drawn from the country itself. With modest simplicity, he observed
that he had been at work fifteen or sixteen years, doing his best, with
the grace of God, to secure the freedom of the fatherland and to resist
tyranny of conscience; that he alone--assisted by his brothers and some
friends and relatives--had borne the whole burthen in the beginning, and
that he had afterwards been helped by the states of Holland and Zealand,
so that he could not but render thanks to God for His great mercy in thus
granting His blessing to so humble an instrument, and thus restoring so
many beautiful provinces to their ancient freedom and to the true
religion. The Prince protested that this result was already a sufficient
reward for his labors--a great consolation in his sufferings. He had
hoped, he said, that the estates, "taking into consideration his
long-continued labors, would have been willing to excuse him from a new
load of cares, and would have granted him some little rest in his already
advanced age;" that they would have selected "some other person more
fitted for the labor, whom he would himself faithfully promise to assist
to the best of his abilities, rendering him willing obedience
proportionate to the authority conferred upon him."
Like all other attempts to induce the acceptance, by the Prince, of
supreme authority, this effort proved ineffectual, from the obstinate
unwillingness of his hand to receive the proffered sceptre.
In connection with this movement, and at about the same epoch, Jacob
Swerius, member of the Brabant Council, with other deputies, waited upon
Orange, and formally tendered him the sovereign dukedom of Brabant,
forfeited and vacant by the late crime of Anjou. The Prince, however,
resolutely refused to accept the dignity, assuring the committee that he
had not the means to afford the country as much protection as they had a
right to expect from their sovereign. He added that "he would never give
the King of Spain the right-to say that the Prince of Orange had been
actuated by no other motives in his career than the hope of
self-aggrandizement, and the desire to deprive his Majesty of the
provinces in order to appropriate them to himself."
Accordingly, firmly refusing to heed the overtures of the United States,
and of Holland in particular, he continued to further the
re-establishment of Anjou--a measure in which, as he deliberately
believed, lay the only chance of union and in dependence.
The Prince of Parma, meantime, had not been idle. He had been unable to
induce the provinces to listen to his wiles, and to rush to the embrace
of the monarch whose arms he described as ever open to the repentant. He
had, however, been busily occupied in the course of the summer in taking
up many of the towns which the treason of Anjou had laid open to his
attacks.
Eindhoven, Diest, Dunkirk, Newport, and other places, were successively
surrendered to royalist generals. On the 22nd of September, 1583, the
city of Zutfen, too, was surprised by Colonel Tassis, on the fall of
which most important place, the treason of Orange's brother-in-law, Count
Van den Berg, governor of Gueldres, was revealed. His fidelity had been
long suspected, particularly by Count John of Nassau, but always
earnestly vouched for by his wife and by his sons. On the capture of
Zutfen, however, a document was found and made public, by which Van den
Berg bound himself to deliver the principal cities of Gueldres and
Zutfen, beginning with Zutfen itself, into the hands of Parma, on
condition of receiving the pardon and friendship of the King.
Not much better could have been expected of Van den Berg. His
pusillanimous retreat from his post in Alva's time will be recollected;
and it is certain that the Prince had never placed implicit confidence in
his character. Nevertheless, it was the fate of this great man to be
often deceived by the friends whom he trusted, although never to be
outwitted by his enemies. Van den Berg was arrested, on the 15th of
November, carried to the Hague, examined and imprisoned for a time in
Delftshaven. After a time he was, however, liberated, when he instantly,
with all his sons, took service under the King.
While treason was thus favoring the royal arms in the north, the same
powerful element, to which so much of the Netherland misfortunes had
always been owing was busy in Flanders.
Towards the end of the year 1583, the Prince of Chimay, eldest son of the
Duke of Aerschot, had been elected governor of that province. This noble
was as unstable in character, as vain, as unscrupulous, and as ambitious
as his father and uncle. He had been originally desirous of espousing the
eldest daughter of the Prince of Orange, afterwards the Countess of
Hohenlo, but the Duchess of Aerschot was too strict a Catholic to consent
to the marriage, and her son was afterwards united to the Countess of
Meghem, widow of Lan celot Berlaymont.
As affairs seemed going on prosperously for the states in the beginning,
of this year, the Prince of Chimay had affected a strong inclination for
the Reformed religion, and as governor of Bruges, he had appointed many
members of that Church to important offices, to the exclusion of
Catholics. By so decided a course, he acquired the confidence of the
patriot party and at the end of the year he became governor of Flanders.
No sooner was he installed in this post, than he opened a private
correspondence with Parma, for it was his intention to make his peace
with the King, and to purchase pardon and advancement by the brilliant
service which he now undertook, of restoring this important province to
the royal authority. In the arrangement of his plans he was assisted by
Champagny, who, as will be recollected, had long been a prisoner in
Ghent, but whose confinement was not so strict as to prevent frequent
intercourse with his friends without. Champagny was indeed believed to be
the life of the whole intrigue. The plot was, however, forwarded by
Imbize, the roaring demagogue whose republicanism could never reconcile
itself with what he esteemed the aristocratic policy of Orange, and whose
stern puritanism could be satisfied with nothing short of a general
extermination of Catholics. This man, after having been allowed to
depart, infamous and contemptible, from the city which he had endangered,
now ventured after five years, to return, and to engage in fresh schemes
which were even more criminal than his previous enterprises. The
uncompromising foe to Romanism, the advocate of Grecian and Genevan
democracy, now allied himself with Champagny and with Chimay, to effect a
surrender of Flanders to Philip and to the Inquisition. He succeeded in
getting himself elected chief senator in Ghent, and forthwith began to
use all his influence to further the secret plot. The joint efforts and
intrigues of Parma, Champagny, Chimay, and Imbize, were near being
successful. Early, in the spring of 1584 a formal resolution was passed
by the government of Ghent, to open negotiations with Parma. Hostages
were accordingly exchanged, and a truce of three weeks was agreed upon,
during which an animated correspondence was maintained between the
authorities of Ghent and the Prince of Chimay on the one side, and the
United States-general, the magistracy of Antwerp, the states of Brabant,
and other important bodies on the other.
The friends of the Union and of liberty used all their eloquence to
arrest the city of Ghent in its course, and to save the province of
Flanders from accepting the proposed arrangement with Parma. The people
of Ghent were reminded that the chief promoter of this new negotiation
was Champagny, a man who owed a deep debt of hatred to their city, for
the long, and as he believed, the unjust confinement which he had endured
within its walls. Moreover, he was the brother of Granvelle, source of
all their woes. To take counsel with Champagny, was to come within reach
of a deadly foe, for "he who confesses himself to a wolf," said the
burgomasters of Antwerp, "will get wolf's absolution." The Flemings were
warned by all their correspondents that it was puerile to hope for faith
in Philip; a monarch whose first principle was, that promises to heretics
were void. They were entreated to pay no heed to the "sweet singing of
the royalists," who just then affected to disapprove of the practice
adopted by the Spanish Inquisition, that they might more surely separate
them from their friends. "Imitate not," said the magistrates of Brussels,
"the foolish sheep who made with the wolves a treaty of perpetual amity,
from which the faithful dogs were to be excluded." It was affirmed--and
the truth was certainly beyond peradventure--that religious liberty was
dead at the moment when the treaty with Parma should be signed. "To look
for political privilege or evangelical liberty," said the Antwerp
authorities, "in any arrangement with the Spaniards, is to look for light
in darkness, for fire in water." "Philip is himself the slave of the
Inquisition," said the states-general, "and has but one great purpose in
life--to cherish the institution everywhere, and particularly in the
Netherlands. Before Margaret of Parma's time, one hundred thousand
Netherlanders had been burned or strangled, and Alva had spent seven
years in butchering and torturing many thousands more." The magistrates
of Brussells used similar expressions. "The King of Spain," said they to
their brethren of Ghent, "is fastened to the Inquisition. Yea, he is so
much in its power, that even if he desired, he is unable to maintain his
promises." The Prince of Orange too, was indefatigable in public and
private efforts to counteract the machinations of Parma and the Spanish
party in Ghent. He saw with horror the progress which the political
decomposition of that most important commonwealth was making, for he
considered the city the keystone to the union of the provinces, for he
felt with a prophetic instinct that its loss would entail that of all the
southern provinces, and make a united and independent Netherland state
impossible. Already in the summer of 1583, he addressed a letter full of
wisdom and of warning to the authorities of Ghent, a letter in which he
set fully before them the iniquity and stupidity of their proceedings,
while at the same time he expressed himself with so much dexterity and
caution as to avoid giving offence, by accusations which he made, as it
were, hypothetically, when, in truth, they were real ones.
These remonstrances were not fruitless, and the authorities and citizens
of Ghent once more paused ere they stepped from the precipice. While they
were thus wavering, the whole negotiation with Parma was abruptly brought
to a close by a new incident, the demagogue Imbize having been discovered
in a secret attempt to obtain possession of the city of Denremonde, and
deliver it to Parma. The old acquaintance, ally, and enemy of Imbize, the
Seigneur de Ryhove, was commandant of the city, and information was
privately conveyed to him of the design, before there had been time for
its accomplishment. Ryhove, being thoroughly on his guard, arrested his
old comrade, who was shortly afterwards brought to trial, and executed at
Ghent. John van Imbize had returned to the city from which the
contemptuous mercy of Orange had permitted him formerly to depart, only
to expiate fresh turbulence and fresh treason by a felon's death.
Meanwhile the citizens: of Ghent; thus warned by word and deed, passed an
earnest resolution to have no more intercourse with Parma, but to abide
faithfully by the union. Their example was followed by the other Flemish
cities, excepting, unfortunately, Bruges, for that important town, being
entirely in the power of Chimay, was now surrendered by him to the royal
government. On the 20th of May, 1584, Baron Montigny, on the part of
Parma, signed an accord with the Prince of Chimay, by which the city was
restored to his Majesty, and by which all inhabitants not willing to
abide by the Roman Catholic religion were permitted to leave the land.
The Prince was received with favor by Parma, on conclusion of the
transaction, and subsequently met with advancement from the King, while
the Princess, who had embraced the Reformed religion, retired to Holland.
The only other city of importance gained on this occasion by the
government was Ypres, which had been long besieged, and was, soon
afterwards forced to yield. The new Bishop, on taking possession,
resorted to instant measures for cleansing a place which had been so long
in the hands of the infidels, and as the first step in this purification,
the bodies of many heretics who had been buried for years were taken from
their graves, and publicly hanged in their coffins. All living adherents
to the Reformed religion were instantly expelled from the place.
Ghent and the rest of Flanders were, for the time, saved from the power
of Spain, the inhabitants being confirmed in their resolution of
sustaining their union with the other provinces by the news from France.
Early in the spring the negotiations between Anjou and the states-general
had been earnestly renewed, and Junius, Mouillerie, and Asseliers, had
been despatched on a special mission to France, for the purpose of
arranging a treaty with the Duke. On the 19th of April, 1584, they
arrived in Delft, on their return, bringing warm letters from the French
court, full of promises to assist the Netherlands; and it was understood
that a constitution, upon the basis of the original arrangement of
Bordeaux, would be accepted by the Duke. These arrangements were,
however, for ever terminated by the death of Anjou, who had been ill
during the whole course of the negotiations. On the 10th of June, 1584,
he expired at Chateau Thierry, in great torture, sweating blood from
every pore, and under circumstances which, as usual, suggested strong
suspicions of poison.