The Beggars of the Sea
The Netherlands, lying like a kind of debateable land between France
and Germany, were apt to be influenced by the different forms of
Protestantism which were established in those countries. The
inhabitants were remarkably quick-witted and attracted by anything
which appealed to their reason. Their breadth of mind and cosmopolitan
outlook was, no doubt, largely due to the extensive trade they carried
on with eastern and western nations. The citizens of the well-built
towns studding the Low Countries, had become very wealthy. They could
send out fine soldiers, as Charles V had seen, but their chief pursuit
was commerce. Education rendered them far superior to many other
Europeans, who were scarcely delivered from the ignorance and
superstition of the Middle Ages. Having proved themselves strong
enough to be independent, they formed a Confederacy of Republics on the
death of Charles V in 1558.
The Emperor was sincerely mourned because he had possessed Flemish
tastes, yet he had always failed in his attempts to unite the whole of
the Low Countries into one kingdom. There were no less than seventeen
provinces in the Netherlands, with seventeen petty princes over them.
Each province disdained the other as quite alien and foreign. Both
French and a dialect {75} of German were spoken by the natives. It was
a great drawback to Philip II, their new ruler, that he could only
speak Castilian.
Philip had been unpopular from the time of his first visit to the
Netherlands, before the French war was settled by the treaty of Cateau
Cambresis. The credit of the settlement was chiefly due to the subtle
diplomacy of William, Prince of Orange, the trusted councillor of
Charles V, on whose shoulder the Emperor leant during the ceremony of
abdication.
William of Orange yielded to none in pride of birth, being descended
from one of the most illustrious houses of the Low Countries. He was
young, gallant, and fond of splendour when he negotiated on the
Emperor's behalf with Henry II of France. He managed matters so
successfully that the Emperor was able to withdraw without loss of
prestige from a war he was anxious to end at any cost. William
received his nickname of the Silent during his residence as a hostage
at the French court.
One day, at a hunting party, Henry II uncautiously told Orange of a
plan he had made with Philip to stamp out every heretic in their
dominions of France and the Netherlands by a sudden deadly onslaught
that would allow the Protestants no time for resistance. It was
assumed that William, being a powerful Catholic noble, would rejoice in
this scheme. He held his peace very wisely but, in reality, he was
full of indignation. He cared nothing for the reformed religion in
itself, but he was a humane generous man, and from that hour determined
that he would defend the helpless, persecuted Protestants of the Low
Countries.
Philip II was not long in showing himself zealous to observe his
father's instructions to preserve the Catholic {76} faith in all its
purity. He renewed the edict or "placard" against heresy which had
been first issued in 1550. This provided for the punishment of anyone
who should "print, write, copy, keep, conceal, sell, buy, or give in
churches, streets, or other places" any book of the Reformers, anyone
who should hold conventicles, or anyone who should converse or dispute
concerning the Holy Scriptures, to say nothing of those venturing to
entertain the opinions of heretics. The men were to be executed with
the sword and the women buried alive, if they should persist in their
errors. If they were firm in holding to their beliefs, such deaths
were held too merciful. Execution by fire was a punishment that was
universal in the days of the Spanish Inquisition.
[Illustration: Philip II present at an Auto-da-Fé. (D. Valdivieso)]
Philip watched the burning of his heretic subjects with apparent
satisfaction. The first ceremony that greeted him on his return to
Spain was an _Auto da fé_, or Act of Faith, in which many victims were
led to the stake. The scene was the great square of Valladolid in
front of the Church of Saint Francis, and the hour of six was the
signal for the bells to toll which brought forth that dismal train from
the fortress of the Inquisition. Troops marched before the hapless men
and women, who were clad in the hideous garb known as the San Benito--a
loose sack of yellow cloth which was embroidered with figures of flames
and devils feeding on them, in token of the destiny that would attend
the heretics, soul and body. A pasteboard cap bore similar devices,
and added grotesque pathos to the suffering faces of the martyrs.
Judges and magistrates followed them, and nobles of the land were there
on horseback, while members of the dread tribunal came after these,
bearing aloft the arms of the Inquisition.
Philip occupied a seat upon the platform erected {77} opposite to the
scaffold. It was his duty to draw his sword from the scabbard and to
repeat an oath that he would maintain the purity of the Catholic faith
before he witnessed the execution of "the enemies of God," as he
thought all those who laid down their lives for the sake of heretical
scruples.
A few who recanted were pardoned, but for the majority recantation only
meant long imprisonment in cells where many hearts broke after years of
solitude. The property of the accused was confiscated in any case; and
this rule was a sore temptation to informers, who received a certain
share of their neighbour's goods if they denounced him. When the
"reconciled" had been sent back to prison under a strong guard, all
eyes were fixed on the unrepentant. These wore cards round their necks
and carried in their hands either a cross, or an inverted torch, which
was a sign that their own life would shortly be extinguished. Few of
these showed weakness, since they had already triumphed over
long-protracted torture. They walked with head erect to the _quemada_
or place of execution.
Dominican monks, by whose fanatic zeal the Holy Office gained a hold on
every Spaniard, often walked among the doomed, stripped of their former
vestments. Once a noble Florentine appealed to Philip as he was led by
the royal gallery. "Is it thus that you allow your innocent subjects
to be persecuted?" The King's face hardened, and his reply came
sharply. "If it were my own son, I would fetch the wood to burn him,
were he such a wretch as thou art." And there is no doubt that Philip
spoke truth when he uttered words so merciless.
Under the royal sanction the persecution was continued in the
Netherlands. It had closed the domains {78} of science and speculation
for Spain. It must break the free republican spirit of the Low
Countries. Charles V had been afraid of injuring the trade which
enabled him to pay a vast, all-conquering army. His son was less
tolerant, and thought religion of greater importance even than military
successes.
The terror of that formidable band of Inquisitors came upon the
Protestant Flemings like the shadow on some sunny hill-side. They had
lived in comfort and independence, resisting every attempt at royal
tyranny. Now a worse tyranny was ruling in their midst--secret,
relentless, inhuman--demanding toll of lives for sacrifice. Philip was
zealous in appointing new bishops, each of whom should have inquisitors
to aid in the work of hunting down the Protestants. "There are but few
of us left in the world who care for religion," he wrote, "'tis
necessary therefore for us to take the greater heed for Christianity."
Granvelle, a cardinal of the Catholic Church, was the ruler of the Low
Countries, terrorizing Margaret of Parma, whom Philip had appointed to
act there as his Regent. Margaret was a worthy woman of masculine
tastes and habits; she was the daughter of Charles V and therefore a
half-sister of Philip. She would have won some concessions for the
Protestants, knowing the temper of the Flemish, to whom she was allied
by birth, but Granvelle was artful in his policy and managed by
frequent correspondence with Spain to baffle the efforts of the whole
party, which looked with indignation on the work of the Inquisitors.
Peter Titelmann, the chief instrument of the Holy Office in the
Netherlands, alarmed Margaret as well as her subjects, who were at the
mercy of this monster. He rode through the country on horseback,
dragging suspected persons {79} from their very beds, and glorying in
the knowledge that none dared resist him. He burst into a house at
Ryssel one day, seized John de Swarte, his wife and four children,
together with two newly-married couples and two other persons,
convicted them of reading the Bible, of praying within their own
dwellings, and had them all immediately burned. No wonder that the
Duchess of Parma trembled when the same man clamoured at the doors of
her chamber for admittance. High and low were equally in danger. Even
the royal family were at the mercy of the Holy Office. Spies might be
found in any household, and both men and women disappeared to answer
"inquiries" made with torture of the rack, without knowing their
accusers.
Granvelle had enemies, who bent themselves to accomplish the downfall
of the minister. He was of humble origin, though he had amassed great
wealth and possessed a remarkable capacity for administration. Egmont,
the fierce, quarrelsome soldier, was his chief adversary among the
nobles. There was a lively scene when Egmont drew his sword on the
Cardinal in the presence of the Regent.
William of Orange was, perhaps, the one man whom all respected for his
true courage and strength of character. Granvelle wrote of him to
Philip as highly dangerous, knowing that in the Silent he had met his
match in cunning; for William's qualities were strangely mingled--he
had vast ambition and yet took up a cause later that broke his splendid
fortunes. He was upright, yet he had few scruples in dealing with
opponents. He would employ spies to acquaint him with secret papers
and use every possible means of gaining an advantage.
Egmont and Orange vied with each other in the state they kept, their
wives being bitterly jealous of each {80} other. William's second
marriage had been arranged for worldly motives. His bride was Princess
Anna of Saxony, daughter of the Elector Maurice who had worked such
evil for the Emperor Charles and had embraced the new religion. The
Princess was only sixteen; she limped, and was by no means handsome.
It was hinted, too, that her temper was stormy and her mind narrow.
The advantages of the match consisted in her high rank, which was above
that of Orange. Philip disliked the wedding of a Reformer with one of
his most powerful subjects. He disliked the bride's family, as was
natural, and the bride's family did not approve of her wedding with a
"Papist." The ceremony took place on St Bartholomew's Day, 1561.
After his second marriage the Prince of Orange continued to exercise a
lordly hospitality, for his staff of cooks was famous. His wife
quarrelled for precedence with the Countess Egmont, till the two were
obliged to walk about the streets arm-in-arm because neither would
acknowledge an inferior station. Being magnificently dressed, they
suffered much inconvenience from narrow doorways, which were not built
to admit more than one dame in the costume of the period. The times
were not yet too serious to forbid such petty bickering, and there was
a certain section of society quite frivolous enough to enjoy the
ridiculous side of it.
Margaret of Parma openly showed her delight when Granvelle was
banished, for she felt herself relieved from a tyrant. She now gave
her confidence to Orange, who was very popular with the people. There
seemed to be some hope of inducing Philip to withdraw some of the
edicts against his Protestant subjects. Their cries were daily
becoming louder, and there was an uneasy spirit abroad in the Low
Countries which greeted with {81} delight the device of Count Egmont
for a new livery for his servants that should condemn the ostentation
of such ministers as Granvelle. His retainers appeared in doublet and
hose of the coarsest grey material, with long hanging sleeves and no
embroideries. They wore an emblem of a fool's cap and bells, or a
monk's cowl, which was supposed to mock the Cardinal's contemptuous
allusion to the nobles as buffoons. The King was furious at the
fashion which soon spread among the courtiers. They changed the device
then to a bundle of arrows or a wheat-sheaf which, they asserted,
denoted the union of all their hearts in the King's service.
Schoolboys could not have betrayed more joy in the absence of their
pedagogue than the whole court showed when Granvelle left the country
in 1564 on a pretended visit to his mother.
Orange had now three aims in life, to convoke the States-General, to
moderate or abolish the edicts, and to suppress both council of finance
and privy council, leaving only the one council of state, which he
could make the body of reform. By this time the persecutions were
rousing the horror of Catholic as well as Calvinist. The prisons were
crowded with victims, and through the streets went continual
processions to the stake. The four estates of Flanders were united in
an appeal to Philip. Egmont was to visit Spain and point out the
uselessness of forcing the Netherlands to accept religious decrees
which reduced them to abject slavery. Before he set out, William of
Orange made a notable speech, declaring the provinces free and
determined to vindicate their freedom.
Egmont's visit was a failure, since he suffered himself to be won by
the flattery of Philip II. He was reproached with having forgotten the
interests of the State when {82} he returned, and was consumed by
regrets that were unavailing. The wrath of the people was increasing
daily as the cruel persecution devastated the Low Countries. All other
subjects were forgotten in the time of agony and expectation. There
was talk of resistance that would win death on the battlefield, more
merciful than that proceeding from slow torture. In streets, shops,
and taverns men gathered to whisper of the dark deeds done in the name
of the Inquisition. Philip had vowed "never to allow myself either to
become or to be called the lord of those who reject Thee for their
Lord," as he prostrated his body before a crucifix. The doom of the
Protestants had been sealed by that oath. Henceforth, those who feared
death were known to favour freedom of religion.
The Duke of Alva was firm in his support of Philip's measures. The
Inquisition was formally proclaimed in the market-place of every town
and village in the Netherlands. Resistance was certain. All knew that
contending armies would take the field soon. Commerce ceased to engage
the attention of the people. Those merchants and artisans who were
able left the cities. Patriots spoke what was in their hearts at last,
and pamphlets "snowed in the streets." The "League of the Compromise"
was formed in 1566, with Count Louis of Nassau as the leader; it
declared the Inquisition "iniquitous, contrary to all laws, human and
divine, surpassing the greatest barbarism which was ever practised by
tyrants, and as redounding to the dishonour of God and to the total
desolation of the country." The members of the League might be good
Catholics though they were pledged to resist the Inquisition. They
always promised to attempt nothing "to the diminution of the King's
grandeur, majesty, or dominion." {83} All who signed the Compromise
were to be mutually protected by an oath which permitted none to be
persecuted. It was a League, in fact, against the foreign government
of the Netherlands, signed by nobles whose spirit was roused to protest
against the influence of such men as Alva.
The Compromise did not gain the support of William of Orange because he
was distrustful of its objects. The members were young and imprudent,
and many of them were not at all disinterested in their desire to
secure the broad lands belonging to the Catholic Church. Their wild
banquets were dangerous to the whole country, since spies sat at the
board and took note of all extravagant phrases that might be construed
into disloyalty. Orange himself held meetings of a very different sort
in his sincere endeavour to avert the catastrophe he feared.
Troops rode into Brussels, avowing their intention to free the country
from Spanish tyranny. Brederode was among them--a handsome reckless
noble, descended from one of the oldest families of Holland. The
citizens welcomed the soldiers with applause and betrayed the same
enthusiasm on the following day when a procession of noble cavaliers
went to present a petition to Margaret of Parma, urging that she should
suspend the powers of the Inquisition while a messenger was sent to
Spain to demand its abolition.
As the petitioners left the hall, they heard with furious resentment
the remark of one Berlaymont to the troubled Regent. "What, Madam! is
it possible that your highness can entertain fears of these beggars?
(_gueux_). Is it not obvious what manner of men they are? They have
not had wisdom enough to manage their own estates, and are they now to
teach the King {84} and Your Highness how to govern the country? By
the living God, if my advice were taken, their petition should have a
cudgel for a commentary, and we would make them go down the steps of
the palace a great deal faster than they mounted them."
The Confederates received an answer from the Duchess not altogether to
their satisfaction, though she promised to make a special application
to the King for the modification of edicts and ordered the Inquisitors
to proceed "moderately and discreetly" with their office. Three
hundred guests met at Brederode's banquet on the 8th of April, and
there and then, amid the noise of revelry and the clink of wine-cups,
they adopted the name of "Beggars," flung at them in scorn by
Berlaymont.
Brederode was the first to call for a wallet, which he hung round his
neck after the manner of those who begged their bread. He filled a
large wooden bowl as part of his equipment, lifted it with both hands
and drained it, crying, "Long live the Beggars!" The cry was taken up
as each guest donned the wallet in turn and drank from the bowl to the
Beggars' health. The symbols of the brotherhood were hung up in the
hall so that all might stand underneath to repeat certain words as he
flung salt into a goblet:
"By this salt, by this head, by this wallet still,
These beggars change not, fret who will."
A costume was adopted in accordance with the fantastic humour of the
nobles. Soon Brussels stared at quaint figures in coarse grey
garments, wearing felt hats, and carrying the beggar's bowl and wallet.
The badges which adorned their hats protested fidelity to Philip.
{85}
Twelve of the Beggars sought an interview with the Duchess of Parma to
demand that Orange, Egmont, and Admiral Hoorn should be appointed to
guard the interests of the States, and they even threatened to form
foreign alliances if Margaret refused to grant what they wanted. They
knew that they could count now on assistance from the Huguenot leaders
in France and from the Protestant princes in Germany.
The war was imminent in which the Beggars would avenge the insult
uttered by the haughty lips of Berlaymont. The sea-power of Holland
had its origin in the first fleet which the Sea-Beggars equipped in
1569. These corsairs who cruised in the narrow waters and descended
upon the seaport towns were of many different nationalities, but were
one and all inspired by a fanatic hatred of the Spaniard and the Papist.
{86}