These hopes of the Reformers, if hopes they could be called,

This eBook was produced by David Widger

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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, PG EDITION, VOLUME 12.

THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC

By John Lothrop Motley

1855

VOLUME 2, Book 1., 1566

1566 [CHAPTER VIII.]

Secret policy of the government--Berghen and Montigny in Spain--

Debates at Segovia--Correspondence of the Duchess with Philip--

Procrastination and dissimulation of the King--Secret communication

to the Pope--Effect in the provinces of the King's letters to the

government--Secret instructions to the Duchess--Desponding

statements of Margaret--Her misrepresentations concerning Orange,

Egmont, and others--Wrath and duplicity of Philip--Egmont's

exertions in Flanders--Orange returns to Antwerp--His tolerant

spirit--Agreement of 2d September--Horn at Tournay--Excavations in

the Cathedral--Almost universal attendance at the preaching--

Building of temples commenced--Difficult position of Horn--Preaching

in the Clothiers' Hall--Horn recalled--Noircarmes at Tournay--

Friendly correspondence of Margaret with Orange, Egmont, Horn, and

Hoogstraaten--Her secret defamation of these persons.

Egmont in Flanders, Orange at Antwerp, Horn at Tournay; Hoogstraaten at

Mechlin, were exerting themselves to suppress insurrection and to avert

ruin. What, meanwhile, was the policy of the government? The secret

course pursued both at Brussels and at Madrid may be condensed into the

usual formula--dissimulation, procrastination, and again dissimulation.

It is at this point necessary to take a rapid survey of the open and the

secret proceedings of the King and his representatives from the moment at

which Berghen and Montigny arrived in Madrid. Those ill-fated gentlemen

had been received with apparent cordiality, and admitted to frequent, but

unmeaning, interviews with his Majesty. The current upon which they were

embarked was deep and treacherous, but it was smooth and very slow. They

assured the King that his letters, ordering the rigorous execution of the

inquisition and edicts, had engendered all the evils under which the

provinces were laboring. They told him that Spaniards and tools of

Spaniards had attempted to govern the country, to the exclusion of native

citizens and nobles, but that it would soon be found that Netherlanders

were not to be trodden upon like the abject inhabitants of Milan, Naples,

and Sicily. Such words as these struck with an unaccustomed sound upon

the royal ear, but the envoys, who were both Catholic and loyal, had no

idea, in thus expressing their opinions, according to their sense of

duty, and in obedience to the King's desire, upon the causes of the

discontent, that they were committing an act of high treason.

When the news of the public preaching reached Spain, there were almost

daily consultations at the grove of Segovia. The eminent personages who

composed the royal council were the Duke of Alva, the Count de Feria, Don

Antonio de Toledo, Don Juan Manrique de Lara, Ruy Gomez, Quixada,

Councillor Tisnacq, recently appointed President of the State Council,

and Councillor Hopper. Six Spaniards and two Netherlanders, one of whom,

too, a man of dull intellect and thoroughly subservient character, to

deal with the local affairs of the Netherlands in a time of intense

excitement! The instructions of the envoys had been to represent the

necessity of according three great points--abolition of the inquisition,

moderation of the edicts, according to the draft prepared in Brussels,

and an ample pardon for past transactions. There was much debate upon

all these propositions. Philip said little, but he listened attentively

to the long discourses in council, and he took an incredible quantity of

notes. It was the general opinion that this last demand on the part of

the Netherlanders was the fourth link in the chain of treason. The first

had been the cabal by which Granvelle had been expelled; the second, the

mission of Egmont, the main object of which had been to procure a

modification of the state council, in order to bring that body under the

control of a few haughty and rebellious nobles; the third had been the

presentation of the insolent and seditious Request; and now, to crown the

whole, came a proposition embodying the three points--abolition of the

inquisition, revocation of the edicts, and a pardon to criminals, for

whom death was the only sufficient punishment.

With regard to these three points, it was, after much wrangling, decided

to grant them under certain restrictions. To abolish the inquisition

would be to remove the only instrument by which the Church had been

accustomed to regulate the consciences and the doctrines of its subjects.

It would be equivalent to a concession of religious freedom, at least to

individuals within their own domiciles, than which no concession could be

more pernicious. Nevertheless, it might be advisable to permit the

temporary cessation of the papal inquisition, now that the episcopal

inquisition had been so much enlarged and strengthened in the

Netherlands, on the condition that this branch of the institution should

be maintained in energetic condition. With regard to the Moderation, it

was thought better to defer that matter till, the proposed visit of his

Majesty to the provinces. If, however, the Regent should think it

absolutely necessary to make a change, she must cause a new draft to be

made, as that which had been sent was not found admissible. Touching the

pardon general, it would be necessary to make many conditions and

restrictions before it could be granted. Provided these were

sufficiently minute to exclude all persons whom it might be found

desirable to chastise, the amnesty was possible. Otherwise it was quite

out of the question.

Meantime, Margaret of Parma had been urging her brother to come to a

decision, painting the distracted condition of the country in the

liveliest colors, and insisting, although perfectly aware of Philip's

private sentiments, upon a favorable decision as to the three points

demanded by the envoys. Especially she urged her incapacity to resist

any rebellion, and demanded succor of men and money in case the

"Moderation" were not accepted by his Majesty.

It was the last day of July before the King wrote at all, to communicate

his decisions upon the crisis which had occurred in the first week of

April. The disorder for which he had finally prepared a prescription

had, before his letter arrived, already passed through its subsequent

stages of the field-preaching and the image-breaking. Of course these

fresh symptoms would require much consultation, pondering, and note-

taking before they could be dealt with. In the mean time they would be

considered as not yet having happened. This was the masterly

procrastination of the sovereign, when his provinces were in a blaze.

His masterly dissimulation was employed in the direction suggested by his

councillors. Philip never originated a thought, nor laid down a plan,

but he was ever true to the falsehood of his nature, and was

indefatigable in following out the suggestions of others. No greater

mistake can be made than to ascribe talent to this plodding and pedantic

monarch. The man's intellect was contemptible, but malignity and

duplicity, almost superhuman; have effectually lifted his character out

of the regions of the common-place. He wrote accordingly to say that the

pardon, under certain conditions, might be granted, and that the papal

inquisition might cease--the bishops now being present in such numbers,

"to take care of their flocks," and the episcopal inquisition being,

therefore established upon so secure a basis. He added, that if a

moderation of the edicts were still desired, a new project might be sent

to Madrid, as the one brought by Berghen and Montigny was not

satisfactory. In arranging this wonderful scheme for composing the

tumults of the country, which had grown out of a determined rebellion to

the inquisition in any form, he followed not only the advice, but adopted

the exact language of his councillors.

Certainly, here was not much encouragement for patriotic hearts in the

Netherlands. A pardon, so restricted that none were likely to be

forgiven save those who had done no wrong; an episcopal inquisition

stimulated to renewed exertions, on the ground that the papal

functionaries were to be discharged; and a promise that, although the

proposed Moderation of the edicts seemed too mild for the monarch's

acceptance, yet at some future period another project would be matured

for settling the matter to universal satisfaction--such were the

propositions of the Crown. Nevertheless, Philip thought he had gone too

far, even in administering this meagre amount of mercy, and that he had

been too frank in employing so slender a deception, as in the scheme thus

sketched. He therefore summoned a notary, before whom, in presence of

the Duke of Alva, the Licentiate Menchaca and Dr. Velasco, he declared

that, although he had just authorized Margaret of Parma, by force of

circumstances, to grant pardon to all those who had been compromised in

the late disturbances of the Netherlands, yet as he had not done this

spontaneously nor freely, he did not consider himself bound by the

authorization, but that, on the contrary, he reserved his right to punish

all the guilty, and particularly those who had been the authors and

encouragers of the sedition.

So much for the pardon promised in his official correspondence.

With regard to the concessions, which he supposed himself to have made in

the matter of the inquisition and the edicts, he saved his conscience by

another process. Revoking with his right hand all which his left had

been doing, he had no sooner despatched his letters to the Duchess Regent

than he sent off another to his envoy at Rome. In this despatch he

instructed Requesens to inform the Pope as to the recent royal decisions

upon the three points, and to state that there had not been time to

consult his Holiness beforehand. Nevertheless, continued Philip "the

prudent," it was perhaps better thus, since the abolition could have no

force, unless the Pope, by whom the institution had been established,

consented to its suspension. This matter, however, was to be kept a

profound secret. So much for the inquisition matter. The papal

institution, notwithstanding the official letters, was to exist, unless

the Pope chose to destroy it; and his Holiness, as we have seen, had sent

the Archbishop of Sorrento, a few weeks before, to Brussels, for the

purpose of concerting secret measures for strengthening the "Holy Office"

in the provinces.

With regard to the proposed moderation of the edicts, Philip informed

Pius the Fifth, through Requesens, that the project sent by the Duchess

not having been approved, orders had been transmitted for a new draft,

in which all the articles providing for the severe punishment of heretics

were to be retained, while alterations, to be agreed upon by the state

and privy councils, and the knights of the Fleece, were to be adopted--

certainly in no sense of clemency. On the contrary, the King assured his

Holiness, that if the severity of chastisement should be mitigated the

least in the world by the new articles, they would in no case receive the

royal approbation. Philip further implored the Pope "not to be

scandalized" with regard to the proposed pardon, as it would be by no

means extended to offenders against religion. All this was to be kept

entirely secret. The King added, that rather than permit the least

prejudice to the ancient religion, he would sacrifice all his states, and

lose a hundred lives if he had so many; for he would never consent to be

the sovereign of heretics. He said he would arrange the troubles of the

Netherlands, without violence, if possible, because forcible measures

would cause the entire destruction of the country. Nevertheless they

should be employed, if his purpose could be accomplished in no other way.

In that case the King would himself be the executor of his own design,

without allowing the peril which he should incur, nor the ruin of the

provinces, nor that of his other realms, to prevent him from doing all

which a Christian prince was bound to do, to maintain the Catholic

religion and the authority of the Holy See, as well as to testify his

personal regard for the reigning pontiff, whom he so much loved and

esteemed.

Here was plain speaking. Here were all the coming horrors distinctly

foreshadowed. Here was the truth told to the only being with whom Philip

ever was sincere. Yet even on this occasion, he permitted himself a

falsehood by which his Holiness was not deceived. Philip had no

intention of going to the Netherlands in person, and the Pope knew that

he had none. "I feel it in my bones," said Granvelle, mournfully, "that

nobody in Rome believes in his Majesty's journey to the provinces." From

that time forward, however, the King began to promise this visit, which

was held out as a panacea for every ill, and made to serve as an excuse

for constant delay.

It may well be supposed that if Philip's secret policy had been

thoroughly understood in the Netherlands, the outbreak would have come

sooner. On the receipt, however, of the public despatches from Madrid,

the administration in Brussels made great efforts to represent their

tenor as highly satisfactory. The papal inquisition was to be abolished,

a pardon was to be granted, a new moderation was to be arranged at some

indefinite period; what more would men have? Yet without seeing the face

of the cards, the people suspected the real truth, and Orange was

convinced of it. Viglius wrote that if the King did not make his

intended visit soon, he would come too late, and that every week more

harm was done by procrastination than could be repaired by months of

labor and perhaps by torrents of blood. What the precise process was,

through which Philip was to cure all disorders by his simple presence,

the President did not explain.

As for the measures propounded by the King after so long a delay, they

were of course worse than useless; for events had been marching while he

had been musing. The course suggested was, according to Viglius, but "a

plaster for a wound, but a drag-chain for the wheel." He urged that the

convocation of the states-general was the only remedy for the perils in

which the country was involved; unless the King should come in person.

He however expressed the hope that by general consultation some means

would be devised by which, if not a good, at least a less desperate

aspect would be given to public affairs, "so that the commonwealth, if

fall it must, might at least fall upon its feet like a cat, and break its

legs rather than its neck."

Notwithstanding this highly figurative view of the subject; and

notwithstanding the urgent representations of Duchess Margaret to her

brother, that nobles and people were all clamoring about the necessity of

convening the states general, Philip was true to his instincts on this as

on the other questions. He knew very well that the states-general of the

Netherlands and Spanish despotism were incompatible ideas, and he

recoiled from the idea of the assembly with infinite aversion. At the

same time a little wholesome deception could do no harm. He wrote to the

Duchess, therefore, that he was determined never to allow the states-

general to be convened. He forbade her to consent to the step under any

circumstances, but ordered her to keep his prohibition a profound secret.

He wished, he said, the people to think that it was only for the moment

that the convocation was forbidden, and that the Duchess was expecting to

receive the necessary permission at another time. It was his desire, he

distinctly stated, that the people should not despair of obtaining the

assembly, but he was resolved never to consent to the step, for he knew

very well what was meant by a meeting of the States-general. Certainly

after so ingenuous but secret a declaration from the disciple of

Macchiavelli, Margaret might well consider the arguments to be used

afterward by herself and others, in favor of the ardently desired

measure, as quite superfluous.

Such then was the policy secretly resolved upon by Philip; even before he

heard of the startling events which were afterwards to break upon him.

He would maintain the inquisition and the edicts; he would exterminate

the heretics, even if he lost all his realms and his own life in the

cause; he would never hear of the national representatives coming

together. What then were likely to be his emotions when he should be

told of twenty thousand armed heretics assembling at one spot, and

fifteen thousand at another, in almost every town in every province, to

practice their blasphemous rites; when he should be told of the whirlwind

which had swept all the ecclesiastical accumulations of ages out of

existence; when he should read Margaret's despairing letters, in which

she acknowledged that she had at last committed an act unworthy of God,

of her King, and of herself, in permitting liberty of worship to the

renegades from the ancient church!

The account given by the Duchess was in truth very dismal. She said that

grief consumed her soul and crimson suffused her cheeks while she related

the recent transactions. She took God to witness that she had resisted

long, that she had past many sleepless nights, that she had been wasted

with fever and grief. After this penitential preface she confessed that,

being a prisoner and almost besieged in her palace, sick in body and

soul, she had promised pardon and security to the confederates, with

liberty of holding assemblies to heretics in places where the practice

had already obtained. These concessions had been made valid until the

King by and with the consent of the states-general, should definitely

arrange the matter. She stated, however, that she had given her consent

to these two demands, not in the royal name, but in her own. The King

was not bound by her promise, and she expreesed the hope that he would

have no regard to any such obligation. She further implored her brother

to come forth as soon as possibe to avenge the injuries inflicted upon

the ancient church, adding, that if deprived of that consolation, she

should incontinently depart this life. That hope alone would prevent her

death.

This was certainly strong language. She was also very explicit in her

representations of the influence which had been used by certain

personages to prevent the exercise of any authority upon her own part.

"Wherefore," said Margaret, "I eat my heart; and shall never have peace

till the arrival of your Majesty."

There was no doubt who those personages were who, as it was pretended,

had thus held the Duchess in bondage, and compelled her to grant these

infamous concessions. In her secret Italian letters, she furnished the

King with a tissue of most extravagant and improbable falsehoods,

supplied to her mainly by Noircarmes and Mansfeld, as to the course

pursued at this momentous crisis by Orange, Egmont, Horn, and

Hoogstraaten. They had all, she said, declared against God and against

religion.--Horn, at least, was for killing all the priests and monks in

the country, if full satisfaction were not given to the demands of the

heretics. Egmont had declared openly for the beggars, and was levying

troops in Germany. Orange had the firm intention of making himself

master of the whole country, and of dividing it among the other

seigniors and himself. The Prince had said that if she took

refuge in Mons, as she had proposed, they would instantly convoke the

states-general, and take all necessary measures. Egmont had held the

same language, saying that he would march at the head of forty thousand

men to besiege her in that city. All these seigniors, however, had

avowed their determination to prevent her flight, to assemble the

estates, and to drag her by force before the assembly, in order to compel

her consent to every measure which might be deemed expedient. Under all

these circumstances, she had been obliged to defer her retreat, and to

make the concessions which had overwhelmed her with disgrace.

With such infamous calumnies, utterly disproved by every fact in the

case, and unsupported by a tittle of evidence, save the hearsay reports

of a man like Noircarmes, did this "woman, nourished at Rome, in whom no

one could put confidence," dig the graves of men who were doing their

best to serve her.

Philip's rage at first hearing of the image-breaking has been indicated.

He was ill of an intermittent fever at the wood of Segovia when the news

arrived, and it may well be supposed that his wrath at these proceedings

was not likely to assuage his malady. Nevertheless, after the first

burst of indignation, he found relief in his usual deception. While

slowly maturing the most tremendous vengeance which anointed monarch ever

deliberately wreaked upon his people, he wrote to say, that it was "his

intention to treat his vassals and subjects in the provinces like a good

and clement prince, not to ruin them nor to put them into servitude, but

to exercise all humanity, sweetness, and grace, avoiding all harshness."

Such were the avowed intentions of the sovereign towards his people at

the moment when the terrible Alva, who was to be the exponent of all this

"humanity, sweetness, and grace," was already beginning the preparations

for his famous invasion of the Netherlands.

The essence of the compact agreed to upon the 23d August between the

confederates and the Regent, was that the preaching of the reformed

religion should be tolerated in places where it had previously to that

date been established. Upon this basis Egmont, Horn, Orange,

Hoogstraaten, and others, were directed once more to attempt the

pacification of the different provinces.

Egmont departed for his government of Flanders, and from that moment

vanished all his pretensions, which at best had been, slender enough, to

the character of a national chieftain. During the whole of the year his

course had been changeful. He had felt the influence of Orange; he had

generous instincts; he had much vanity; he had the pride of high rank;

which did not easily brook the domination of strangers, in a land which

he considered himself and his compeers entitled by their birth to rule.

At this juncture, however, particularly when in the company of

Noircarmes, Berlaymont, and Viglius, he expressed, notwithstanding their

calumnious misstatements, the deepest detestation of the heretics. He

was a fervent Catholic, and he regarded the image-breaking as an unpardon

able crime. "We must take up arms," said he, "sooner or later, to bring

these Reformers to reason, or they will end by laying down the law for

us." On the other hand, his anger would be often appeased by the grave

but gracious remonstrances of Orange. During a part of the summer, the

Reformers had been so strong in Flanders that upon a single day sixty

thousand armed men had been assembled at the different field-preachings

within that province. "All they needed was a Jacquemart, or a Philip van

Artevelde," says a Catholic, contemporary, "but they would have scorned

to march under the banner of a brewer; having dared to raise their eyes

for a chief, to the most illustrious warrior of his ages." No doubt, had

Egmont ever listened to these aspirations, he might have taken the field

against the government with an invincible force, seized the capital,

imprisoned the Regent, and mastered the whole country, which was entirely

defenceless, before Philip would have had time to write more than ten

despatches upon the subject.

These hopes of the Reformers, if hopes they could be called, were now

destined to be most bitterly disappointed. Egmont entered Flanders, not

as a chief of rebels--not as a wise pacificator, but as an unscrupulous

partisan of government, disposed to take summary vengeance on all

suspected persons who should fall in his way. He ordered numerous

executions of image-breakers and of other heretics. The whole province

was in a state of alarm; for, although he had not been furnished by the

Regent with a strong body of troops, yet the name of the conqueror at

Saint Quentin and Gravelines was worth many regiments. His severity was

excessive. His sanguinary exertions were ably seconded also by his

secretary Bakkerzeel, a man who exercised the greatest influence over his

chief, and who was now fiercely atoning for having signed the Compromise

by persecuting those whom that league had been formed to protect. "Amid

all the perplexities of the Duchess Regent," Says a Walloon historian,

"this virtuous princess was consoled by the exploits of Bakkerzeel,

gentleman in Count Egmont's service. On one occasion he hanged twenty

heretics, including a minister, at a single heat."

Such achievements as these by the hands or the orders of the

distinguished general who had been most absurdly held up as a possible

protector of the civil and religious liberties of the country, created

profound sensation. Flanders and Artois were filled with the wives and

children of suspected I thousands who had fled the country to escape the

wrath of Egmont. The cries and piteous lamentations of these unfortunate

creatures were heard on every side. Count Louis was earnestly implored

to intercede for the persecuted Reformers. "You who have been so nobly

gifted by Heaven, you who have good will and singular bounty written upon

your face," said Utenhove to Louis, "have the power to save these poor

victims from the throats of the ravenous wolves." The Count responded to

the appeal, and strove to soften the severity of Egmont, without,

however, producing any very signal effect. Flanders was soon pacified,

nor was that important province permitted to enjoy the benefits of the

agreement which had been extorted, from the Duchess. The preachings were

forbidden, and the ministers and congregations arrested and chastised,

even in places where the custom had been established previously to the

23d August. Certainly such vigorous exertions upon the part both of

master and man did not savor of treason to Philip, and hardly seemed to

indicate the final doom of Egmont and Bakkerzeel.

The course of Orange at Antwerp was consistent with his whole career. He

honestly came to arrange a pacification, but he knew that this end could

be gained only by loyally maintaining the Accord which had been signed

between the confederates and the Regent. He came back to the city on the

26th August, and found order partially re-established. The burghers

having at last become thoroughly alarmed, and the fury of the image-

breakers entirely appeased, it had been comparatively easy to restore

tranquillity. The tranquillity, however, rather restored itself, and

when the calm had succeeded to the tempest, the placid heads of the

burgomasters once, more emerged from the waves.

Three image-breakers, who had been taken in the act, were hanged by order

of the magistrates upon the 28th of August. The presence of Orange gave

them courage to achieve these executions which he could not prevent, as

the fifth article of the Accord enjoined the chastisement of the rioters.

The magistrates chose that the "chastisement" on this occasion should be

exemplary, and it was not in the power of Orange to interfere with the

regular government of the city when acting according to its laws. The

deed was not his, however, and he hastened, in order to obviate the

necessity of further violence, to prepare articles of agreement, upon the

basis of Margaret's concessions. Public preaching, according to the

Reformed religion, had already taken place within the city. Upon the

22d, possession had been taken of at least three churches. The senate

had deputed pensionary Wesenbeck to expostulate with the ministers, for

the magistrates were at that moment not able to command. Taffin, the

Walloon preacher, had been tractable, and had agreed to postpone his

exercises. He furthermore had accompanied the pensionary to the

cathedral, in order to persuade Herman Modet that it would be better for

him likewise to defer his intended ministrations. They had found that

eloquent enthusiast already in the great church, burning with impatience

to ascend upon the ruins, and quite unable to resist the temptation of

setting a Flemish psalm and preaching a Flemish sermon within the walls

which had for so many centuries been vocal only to the Roman tongue and

the Roman ritual. All that he would concede to the entreaties of his

colleague and of the magistrate, was that his sermon should be short.

In this, however, he had overrated his powers of retention, for the

sermon not only became a long one, but he had preached another upon the

afternoon of the same day. The city of Antwerp, therefore, was clearly

within the seventh clause of the treaty of the 24th August, for preaching

had taken place in the cathedral, previously to the signing of that

Accord.

Upon the 2d September, therefore, after many protracted interview with

the heads of the Reformed religion, the Prince drew up sixteen articles

of agreement between them, the magistrates and the government, which were

duly signed and exchanged. They were conceived in the true spirit of

statesmanship, and could the rulers of the land have elevated themselves

to the mental height of William de Nassau, had Philip been able of

comprehending such a mind, the Prince, who alone possessed the power in

those distracted times of governing the wills of all men, would have

enabled the monarch to transmit that beautiful cluster of provinces,

without the lose of a single jewel, to the inheritors of his crown.

If the Prince were playing a game, he played it honorably. To have

conceived the thought of religious toleration in an age of universal

dogmatism; to have labored to produce mutual respect among conflicting

opinions, at a period when many Dissenters were as bigoted as the

orthodox, and when most Reformers fiercely proclaimed not liberty for

every Christian doctrine, but only a new creed in place of all the rest,

--to have admitted the possibility of several roads, to heaven, when

zealots of all creeds would shut up all pathways but their own; if such

sentiments and purposes were sins, they would have been ill-exchanged for

the best virtues of the age. Yet, no doubt, this was his crying offence

in the opinion of many contemporaries. He was now becoming apostate from

the ancient Church, but he had long thought that Emperors, Kings, and

Popes had taken altogether too much care of men's souls in times past,

and had sent too many of them prematurely to their great account.

He was equally indisposed to grant full-powers for the same purpose to

Calvinists, Lutherans, or Anabaptists. "He censured the severity of our

theologians," said a Catholic contemporary, accumulating all the

religious offences of the Prince in a single paragraph, "because they

keep strictly the constitutions of the Church without conceding a single

point to their adversaries; he blamed the Calvinists as seditious and

unruly people, yet nevertheless had a horror for the imperial edicts

which condemned them to death; he said it was a cruel thing to take a

man's life for sustaining an erroneous opinion; in short, he fantasied in

his imagination a kind of religion, half Catholic, half Reformed, in

order to content all persons; a system which would have been adopted

could he have had his way." This picture, drawn by one of his most

brilliant and bitter enemies, excites our admiration while intended to

inspire aversion.

The articles of agreement at Antwerp thus promulgated assigned three

churches to the different sects of reformers, stipulated that no attempt

should be made by Catholics or Protestants to disturb the religious

worship of each other, and provided that neither by mutual taunts in

their sermons, nor by singing street ballads, together with improper

allusions and overt acts of hostility, should the good-fellowship which

ought to reign between brethren and fellow-citizens, even although

entertaining different opinions as to religious rites and doctrines, be

for the future interrupted.

This was the basis upon which the very brief religious peace, broken

almost as soon as established, was concluded by William of Orange, not

only at Antwerp, but at Utrecht, Amsterdam, and other principal cities

within his government. The Prince, however, notwithstanding his

unwearied exertions, had slender hopes of a peaceful result. He felt

that the last step taken by the Reformation had been off a precipice. He

liked not such rapid progress. He knew that the King would never forgive

the image-breaking. He felt that he would never recognize the Accord of

the 24th August. Sir Thomas Gresham, who, as the representative of the

Protestant Queen of England in the great commercial metropolis of Europe,

was fully conversant with the turn things were taking, was already

advising some other place for the sale of English commodities. He gave

notice to his government that commerce would have no security at Antwerp

"in those brabbling times." He was on confidential terms with the

Prince, who invited him to dine upon the 4th September, and caused

pensionary Wesenbeck, who was also present, to read aloud the agreement

which was that day to be proclaimed at the town-house. Orange expressed

himself, however, very doubtfully as to the future prospects of the

provinces, and as to the probable temper of the King. "In all his

talke," says Gresham, "the Prince aside unto me, 'I know this will

nothing contente the King!'"

While Egmont had been, thus busied in Flanders, and Orange at Antwerp,

Count Horn had been doing his best in the important city of Tournay. The

Admiral was not especially gifted with intellect, nor with the power of

managing men, but he went there with an honest purpose of seeing the

Accord executed, intending, if it should prove practicable, rather to

favor the Government than the Reformers. At the same time, for the

purpose of giving satisfaction to the members of "the religion," and of

manifesting his sincere desire for a pacification, he accepted lodgings

which had been prepared for him at the house of a Calvinist merchant in

the city, rather, than, take up his quarters with fierce old governor

Moulbais, in the citadel. This gave much offence to the Catholics; and

inspired the Reformers, with the hope of having their preaching inside

the town. To this privilege they were entitled, for the practice had

already been established there, previously to the 24th October.

Nevertheless, at first he was disposed to limit them, in accordance with

the wishes of the Duchess, to extra-mural exercises.

Upon his arrival, by a somewhat ominous conjuncture, he had supped with

some of the leading citizens in the hall of the "gehenna" or torture

room, certainly not a locality calculated to inspire a healthy appetite.

On the following Sunday he had been entertained with a great banquet, at

which all the principal burghers were present, held in a house on the

market-place. The festivities had been interrupted by a quarrel, which

had been taking place in the cathedral. Beneath the vaults of that

edifice, tradition said that a vast treasure was hidden, and the canons

had been known to boast that this buried wealth would be sufficient to

rebuild their temple more magnificently than ever, in case of its total

destruction. The Admiral had accordingly placed a strong guard in the

church as soon as he arrived, and commenced very extensive excavations in

search of this imaginary mine. The Regent informed her brother that the

Count was prosecuting this work with the view of appropriating whatever

might be found to his own benefit. As she knew that he was a ruined

man, there seemed no more satisfactory mode of accounting for these

proceedings. Horn had, however, expressly stated to her that every penny

which should come into his possession from that or any other source would

carefully be restored to the rightful owners. Nothing of consequence was

ever found to justify the golden legends of the monks, but in the mean

time the money-diggers gave great offence. The canons, naturally alarmed

for the safety of their fabulous treasure, had forced the guard, by

surreptitiously obtaining the countersign from a certain official of the

town. A quarrel ensued which ended in the appearance of this personage,

together with the commander of the military force on guard in the

cathedral, before the banqueting company. The Count, in the rough way

habitual with him, gave the culprit a sound rebuke for his intermeddling,

and threatened, in case the offence were repeated, to have him instantly

bound, gagged, and forwarded to Brussels for further punishment. The

matter thus satisfactorily adjusted, the banquet proceeded, the merchants

present being all delighted at seeing the said official, who was

exceedingly, unpopular, "so well huffed by the Count." The excavations

were continued for along time, until there seemed danger of destroying

the foundation of the church, but only a few bits of money were

discovered, with some other articles of small value.

Horn had taken his apartments in the city in order to be at hand to

suppress any tumults, and to inspire confidence in the people. He had

come to a city where five sixths of the inhabitants--were of the reformed

religion, and he did not, therefore, think it judicious to attempt

violently the suppression of their worship. Upon his arrival he had

issued a proclamation, ordering that all property which might have been

pillaged from the religious houses should be instantly restored to the

magistracy, under penalty that all who disobeyed the command should "be

forthwith strangled at the gibbet." Nothing was brought back, however,

for the simple reason that nothing had been stolen. There was,

therefore, no one to be strangled.

The next step was to publish the Accord of 24th August, and to signify

the intention of the Admiral to enforce its observance. The preachings

were as enthusiastically attended as ever, while the storm which had been

raging among the images had in the mean time been entirely allayed.

Congregations of fifteen thousand were still going to hear Ambrose Wille

in the suburbs, but they were very tranquil in their demeanor. It was

arranged between the Admiral and the leaders of the reformed

consistories, that three places, to be selected by Horn, should be

assigned for their places of worship. At these spots, which were outside

the walls, permission was given the Reformers to build meeting-houses.

To this arrangement the Duchess formally gave her consent.

Nicholas Taffin; councillor, in the name of the Reformers, made "a brave

and elegant harangue" before the magistrates, representing that, as on

the most moderate computation, three quarters of the population were

dissenters, as the Regent had ordered the construction of the new

temples, and as the Catholics retained possession of all the churches in

the city, it was no more than fair that the community should bear the

expense of the new buildings. It was indignantly replied, however, that

Catholics could not be expected to pay for the maintenance of heresy,

particularly when they had just been so much exasperated by the image-

breaking Councillor Taffin took nothing, therefore by his "brave and

elegant harangue," saving a small vote of forty livres.

The building was, however, immediately commenced. Many nobles and rich

citizens contributed to the work; some making donations in money; others

giving quantities of oaks, poplars, elms, and other timber trees, to be

used in the construction. The foundation of the first temple outside the

Ports de Cocquerel was immediately laid. Vast heaps of broken images and

other ornaments of the desecrated churches were most unwisely used for

this purpose, and the Catholics were exceedingly enraged at beholding

those male and female saints, who had for centuries been placed in such

"reverend and elevated positions," fallen so low as to be the foundation-

stones of temples whose builders denounced all those holy things as

idols.

As the autumn began to wane, the people were clamorous for permission to

have their preaching inside the city. The new buildings could not be

finished before the winter; but in the mean time the camp-meetings were

becoming, in the stormy seasons fast approaching, a very inconvenient

mode of worship. On the other hand, the Duchess was furious at the

proposition, and commanded Horn on no account to consent that the

interior of Tournay should be profaned by these heretical rites. It was

in vain that the Admiral represented the justice of the claim, as these

exercises had taken place in several of the city churches previously to

the Accord of the 24th of August.

That agreement had been made by the Duchess only to be broken. She had

already received money and the permission to make levies, and was fast

assuming a tone very different from the abject demeanor which had

characterized her in August. Count Horn had been used even as Egmont,

Orange and Hoogstraaten had been employed, in order that their personal

influence with the Reformers might be turned to account. The tools and

the work accomplished by them were to be thrown away at the most

convenient opportunity.

The Admiral was placed in a most intolerable position. An honest,

common-place, sullen kind of man, he had come to a city full of heretics,

to enforce concessions just made by the government to heresy. He soon

found himself watched, paltered with, suspected by the administration at

Brussels. Governor Moulbais in the citadel, who was nominally under his

authority, refused obedience to his orders, was evidently receiving

secret instructions from the Regent, and was determined to cannonade the

city into submission at a very early day. Horn required him to pledge

himself that no fresh troops should enter the castle. Moulbais swore he

would make no such promise to a living soul. The Admiral stormed with

his usual violence, expressed his regret that his brother Montigny had so

bad a lieutenant in the citadel, but could make no impression upon the

determined veteran, who knew, better than Horn, the game which was

preparing. Small reinforcements were daily arriving at the castle; the

soldiers of the garrison had been heard to boast "that they would soon

carve and eat the townsmen's flesh on their dressers," and all the good

effect from the Admiral's proclamation on arriving, had completely

vanished.

Horn complained bitterly of the situation in which he was placed.

He knew himself the mark of incessant and calumnious misrepresentation

both at Brussels and Madrid. He had been doing his best, at a momentous

crisis, to serve the government without violating its engagements, but he

declared himself to be neither theologian nor jurist, and incapable,

while suspected and unassisted, of performing a task which the most

learned doctors of the council would find impracticable. He would

rather, he bitterly exclaimed, endure a siege in any fortress by the

Turks, than be placed in such a position. He was doing all that he was

capable of doing, yet whatever he did was wrong. There was a great

difference, he said, between being in a place and talking about it at a

distance.

In the middle of October he was recalled by the Duchess, whose letters

had been uniformly so ambiguous that he confessed he was quite unable to

divine their meaning. Before he left the city, he committed his most

unpardonable crime. Urged by the leaders of the reformed congregations

to permit their exercises in the Clothiers' Hall until their temples

should be finished, the Count accorded his consent provisionally, and

subject to revocation by the Regent, to whom the arrangement was

immediately to be communicated.

Horn departed, and the Reformers took instant possession of the hall.

It was found in a very dirty and disorderly condition, encumbered with

benches, scaffoldings, stakes, gibbets, and all the machinery used for

public executions upon the market-place. A vast body of men went to work

with a will; scrubbing, cleaning, whitewashing, and removing all the foul

lumber of the hall; singing in chorus, as they did so, the hymns of

Clement Marot. By dinner-time the place was ready. The pulpit and

benches for the congregation had taken the place of the gibbet timber.

It is difficult to comprehend that such work as this was a deadly crime.

Nevertheless, Horn, who was himself a sincere Catholic, had committed the

most mortal of all his offences against Philip and against God, by having

countenanced so flagitious a transaction.

The Admiral went to Brussels. Secretary de la Torre, a very second-rate

personage, was despatched to Tournay to convey the orders of the Regent.

Governor Moulbais, now in charge of affairs both civil and military, was

to prepare all things for the garrison, which was soon to be despatched

under Noircarmes. The Duchess had now arms in her hands, and her

language was bold. La Torre advised the Reformers to be wise "while the

rod was yet green and growing, lest it should be gathered for their

backs; for it was unbecoming is subjects to make bargains with their

King." There was hardly any decent pretext used in violating the Accord

of the 24th August, so soon as the government was strong enough to break

it. It was always said that the preachings suppressed, had not been

established previously to that arrangement; but the preachings had in

reality obtained almost every where, and were now universally abolished.

The ridiculous quibble was also used that, in the preachings other

religious exercises were not included, whereas it was notorious that they

had never been separated. It is, however, a gratuitous task, to unravel

the deceptions of tyranny when it hardly deigns to disguise itself. The

dissimulations which have resisted the influence of centuries are more

worthy of serious investigation, and of these the epoch offers us a

sufficient supply.

At the close of the year, the city of Tournay was completely subjugated

and the reformed religion suppressed. Upon the 2nd day of January, 1567,

the Seignior de Noircarmes arrived before the gates at the head of eleven

companies, with orders from Duchess Margaret to strengthen the garrison

and disarm the citizens. He gave the magistrates exactly one hour and a

half to decide whether they would submit without a murmur. He expressed

an intention of maintaining the Accord of 24th August; a ridiculous

affectation under the circumstances, as the event proved. The notables

were summoned, submission agreed upon, and within the prescribed time the

magistrates came before Noircarmes, with an unconditional acceptance of

his terms. That truculent personage told them, in reply, that they had

done wisely, for if they had delayed receiving the garrison a minute

longer, he would have instantly burned the city to ashes and put every

one of the inhabitants to the sword. He had been fully authorized to do

so, and subsequent events were to show, upon more than one dreadful

occasion, how capable Noircarmes would have been of fulfilling this

menace.

The soldiers, who had made a forced march all night, and who had been

firmly persuaded that the city would refuse the terms demanded, were

excessively disappointed at being obliged to forego the sack and pillage

upon which they had reckoned. Eight or nine hundred rascally peasants,

too, who had followed in the skirts of the regiments, each provided with

a great empty bag, which they expected to fill with booty which they

might purchase of the soldiers, or steal in the midst of the expected

carnage and rapine, shared the discontent of the soldiery, by whom they

were now driven ignominiously out of the town.