WHAT MONSEIGNEUR FRANCOIS, DUC D'ANJOU, DUC DE BRABANT AND COMTE DE
FLANDERS, WAS DOING IN FLANDERS.
Our readers must now permit us to leave the king at the Louvre, Henri of
Navarre at Cahors, Chicot on the road, and Diana in the street, to go to
Flanders to find M. le Duc d'Anjou, recently named Duc de Brabant, and
to whose aid we have sent the great admiral of France--Anne, duc de
Joyeuse.
At eighty leagues from Paris, toward the north, the sound of French
voices was heard, and the French banner floated over a French camp on
the banks of the Scheldt. It was night; the fires, disposed in an
immense circle, bordered the stream, and were reflected in its deep
waters.
From the top of the ramparts of the town the sentinels saw shining, by
the bivouac fires, the muskets of the French army. This army was that of
the Duc d'Anjou. What he had come to do there we must tell our readers;
and although it may not be very amusing, yet we hope they will pardon it
in consideration of the warning; so many people are dull without
announcing it.
Those of our readers who have read "Chicot," already know the Duc
d'Anjou, that jealous, egotistical, ambitious prince, and who, born so
near to the throne, had never been able to wait with resignation until
death offered him a free passage to it. Thus he had desired the throne
of Navarre under Charles IX., then that of Charles IX. himself, then
that of his brother Henri III. For a time he had turned his eyes toward
England, then governed by a woman, and to possess this throne he was
ready to have married this woman, although she was Elizabeth, and was
twenty years older than himself. In this plan destiny was beginning to
smile on him, and he saw himself in the favor of a great queen, until
then inaccessible to all human affections. Besides this, a crown was
offered to him in Flanders.
He had seen his brother Henri embarrassed in his quarrel with the
Guises, but had soon discovered that they had no other aim than that of
substituting themselves for the Valois. He had then separated himself
from them, although not without danger; besides, Henri III. had at last
opened his eyes, and the duke exiled, or something like it, had retired
to Amboise.
It was then that the Flemings opened their arms to him. Tired of Spanish
rule, decimated by the Duc d'Alva, deceived by the false peace of John
of Austria, who had profited by it to retake Namur and Charlemont, the
Flemings had called in William of Nassau, prince of Orange, and had made
him governor-general of Brabant. A few words about this man, who held so
great a place in history, but who will only be named here.
William of Nassau was then about fifty. He was the son of William called
the Old, and of Julienne de Stolberg, cousin of that Rene of Nassau
killed at the siege of Dizier. He had from his youth been brought up in
principles of reform, and had a full consciousness of the greatness of
his mission. This mission, which he believed he had received from
Heaven, and for which he died like a martyr, was to found the Republic
of Holland, in which he was successful. When very young he had been
called by Charles V. to his court. Charles was a good judge of men, and
often the old emperor, who supported the heaviest burden ever borne by
an imperial hand, consulted the child on the most delicate matters
connected with the politics of Holland. The young man was scarcely
twenty-four when Charles confided to him, in the absence of the famous
Philibert Emanuel of Savoy, the command of the army in Flanders. William
showed himself worthy of this high confidence: he held in check the Duc
de Nevers and Coligny, two of the greatest captains of the time, and
under their eyes fortified Philipville and Charlemont. On the day when
Charles V. abdicated, it was on William of Nassau that he leaned to
descend the steps of the throne, and he it was who was charged to carry
to Ferdinand the imperial throne which Charles had resigned.
Then came Philippe II., and in spite of his father's recommendations to
him to regard William as a brother, the latter soon found a great
difference. This strengthened in his mind the great idea of freeing
Holland and Flanders, which he might never have endeavored to carry into
effect if the old emperor, his friend, had remained on the throne.
Holland, by his advice, demanded the dismissal of the foreign troops,
and then began the bloody struggle of the Spaniards to retain the prey
which was escaping from them, and then passed over this unhappy people
the vice-royalty of Marguerite of Austria and the bloody consulship of
the Duc d'Alva, and then was organized that struggle, at once political
and religious, which began with the protest of the Hotel Culembourg,
which demanded the abolition of the Inquisition in Holland, and when
four hundred gentlemen, walking in pairs, carried to the foot of
Marguerite's throne the general desire of the people, as summed up in
that protest. At the sight of these gentlemen, so simply clothed,
Barlaimont, one of the councilors of the duchess, uttered the word
"Gueux," which, taken up by the Flemish gentlemen, so long designated
the patriot party. From this time William began to play the part which
made him one of the greatest political actors of the world. Constantly
beaten by the overwhelming power of Philippe II., he constantly rose
again, always stronger after his defeats--always organizing a new army
to replace the scattered one, and always hailed as a liberator.
In the midst of these alternate moral triumphs and physical defeats,
William learned at Mons the news of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. It
was a terrible wound for Holland, and the Calvinist portion of Flanders
lost by it their natural allies, the Huguenots of France.
William retreated from Mons to the Rhine, and waited for events. Some of
the Gueux was driven by a contrary wind into the port of Brille: and
seeing no escape, and pushed by despair, took the city which was
preparing to hang them.
This done, they chased away the Spanish garrison, and sent for the
Prince of Orange. He came; and as he wished to strike a decisive blow,
he published an ordonnance forbidding the Catholic religion in Holland,
as the Protestant faith was forbidden in France.
At this manifesto war recommenced. The Duc d'Alva sent his own son
Frederic against the revolters, who took from them Zutphen, Nardem, and
Haarlem; but this check, far from discouraging them, seemed to give them
new strength. All took up arms, from the Zuyderzee to the Scheldt. Spain
began to tremble, recalled the Duc d'Alva, and sent as his successor
Louis de Requesens, one of the conquerors at Lepanto.
Then began for William a new series of misfortunes--Ludovic and Henri of
Nassau, who were bringing him aid, were surprised by one of the officers
of Don Louis near Nimegue, defeated and killed; the Spaniards penetrated
into Holland, besieged Leyden, and pillaged Antwerp.
All seemed desperate, when Heaven came once more to the aid of the
infant Republic. Requesens died at Brussels.
Then all the provinces, united by a common interest, drew up and signed,
on the 8th November, 1576, that is to say four days after the sack of
Antwerp, the treaty known under the name of the Treaty of Ghent, by
which they engaged to aid each other in delivering their country from
the yoke of the Spaniards and other foreigners.
Don John reappeared, and with him the woes of Holland; for in less than
two months Namur and Charlemont were taken. The Flemings replied,
however, to these two checks by naming the Prince of Orange
governor-general of Brabant.
Don John died in his turn, and Alexander Farnese succeeded him. He was a
clever prince, charming in his manners, which were at once gentle and
firm; a skillful politician, and a good general. Flanders trembled at
hearing that soft Italian voice call her friend, instead of treating her
as a rebel. William knew that Farnese would do more for Spain with his
promises than the Duc d'Alva with his punishments. On the 29th January,
1579, he made the provinces sign the Treaty of Utrecht, which was the
fundamental base of the rights of Holland. It was then that, fearing he
should never be able to accomplish alone the freedom for which he had
been fighting for fifteen years, he offered to the Duc d'Anjou the
sovereignty of the country, on condition that he should respect their
privileges and their liberty of conscience. This was a terrible blow to
Philippe II., and he replied to it by putting a price of 25,000 crowns
on the head of William. The States-General assembled at the Hague, then
declared Philippe deposed from the sovereignty of Holland, and ordered
that henceforth the oath of fidelity should be taken to them.
The Duc d'Anjou now entered Belgium, and was well received. Philippe's
promise, however, bore its fruits; for in the midst of a fete, a pistol
shot was heard; William fell, and was believed dead; but he recovered.
The shot had been fired by Jean Jaureguy.
The Flemings then, on William's advice, elected Francois, duc of
Brabant, sovereign prince of Flanders. Elizabeth of England saw in this
a method of reuniting the Calvinists of Flanders and France to those of
England--perhaps she dreamed of a triple crown. William, however, took
care to hold the Duc d'Anjou in check, and to counteract the execution
of any design which would have given him too much power in Flanders.
Philippe II. called the Duc de Guise to his aid, on the strength of a
treaty which had been entered into by him with Don John of Austria.
Henri of Guise consented, and it was then that Lorraine and Spain sent
Salcede to the Duc d'Anjou to assassinate him, which would have suited
the views of both; but Salcede, as we know, was arrested and executed
without having carried his project into execution.
Francois advanced but slowly, however, in Flanders, for the people were
more than half afraid of him; he grew impatient, and determined to lay
siege to Antwerp, which had invited his aid against Farnese, but when he
wished to enter had turned its guns against him. This was the position
of the Duc d'Anjou at the time when our story rejoins him, on the day
after the arrival of Joyeuse and his fleet.