insurrection in Friesland, returned in triumph to Brussels. Far from
softened by the success of his arms, he renewed with fresh energy the
butchery which, for a brief season, had been suspended during his
brilliant campaign in the north. The altars again smoked with victims;
the hanging, burning, drowning, beheading, seemed destined to be the
perpetual course of his administration, so long as human bodies remained
on which his fanatical vengeance could be wreaked. Four men of eminence
were executed soon after his return to the capital. They had previously
suffered such intense punishment on the rack, that it was necessary to
carry them to the scaffold and bind them upon chairs, that they might be
beheaded. These four sufferers were a Frisian nobleman, named Galena,
the secretaries of Egmont and Horn, Bakkerzeel and La Loo, and the
distinguished burgomaster of Antwerp, Antony Van Straalen. The arrest of
the three last-mentioned individuals, simultaneously with that of the two
Counts, has been related in a previous chapter. In the case of Van
Straalen, the services rendered by him to the provinces during his long
and honorable career, had been so remarkable, that even the Blood-
Council, in sending his case to Alva for his sentence, were inspired by a
humane feeling. They felt so much compunction at the impending fate of a
man who, among other meritorious acts, had furnished nearly all the funds
for the brilliant campaign in Picardy, by which the opening years of
Philip's reign had been illustrated, as to hint at the propriety of a
pardon. But the recommendation to mercy, though it came from the lips
of tigers, dripping with human blood, fell unheeded on the tyrant's ear.
It seemed meet that the man who had supplied the nerves of war in that
unforgiven series of triumphs, should share the fate of the hero who had
won the laurels.
[Bor, Cappella, Hoofd, ubi sup. The last words of the Burgomaster
as he bowed his neck to the executioner's stroke were, "Voor wel
gedaan, kwaclyk beloud,"--"For faithful service, evil recompense."
--Cappella, 232.]
Hundreds of obscure martyrs now followed in the same path to another
world, where surely they deserved to find their recompense, if steadfast
adherence to their faith, and a tranquil trust in God amid tortures and
death too horrible to be related, had ever found favor above. The "Red-
Rod," as the provost of Brabant was popularly designated, was never idle.
He flew from village to village throughout the province, executing the
bloody behests of his masters with congenial alacrity. Nevertheless his
career was soon destined to close upon the same scaffold where he had so
long officiated. Partly from caprice, partly from an uncompromising and
fantastic sense of justice, his master now hanged the executioner whose
industry had been so untiring. The sentence which was affixed to his
breast, as he suffered, stated that he had been guilty of much
malpractice; that he had executed many persons without a warrant,
and had suffered many guilty persons for a bribe, to escape their doom.
The reader can judge which of the two clauses constituted the most
sufficient reason.
During all these triumphs of Alva, the Prince of Orange had not lost
his self-possession. One after another, each of his bold, skilfully-
conceived and carefully-prepared plans had failed. Villers had been
entirely discomfited at Dalhena, Cocqueville had been cut to pieces in
Picardy, and now the valiant and experienced Louis had met with an entire
overthrow in Friesland. The brief success of the patriots at Heiliger
Zee had been washed out in the blood-torrents of Jemmingen. Tyranny was
more triumphant, the provinces more timidly crouching, than ever. The
friends on whom William of Orange relied in Germany, never enthusiastic
in his cause, although many of them true-hearted and liberal, now grew
cold and anxious. For months long, his most faithful and affectionate
allies, such men as the Elector of Hesse and the Duke of Wirtemberg, as
well as the less trustworthy Augustus of Saxony, had earnestly expressed
their opinion that, under the circumstances, his best course was to sit
still and watch the course of events.
It was known that the Emperor had written an urgent letter to Philip on
the subject of his policy in the Netherlands in general, and concerning
the position of Orange in particular. All persons, from the Emperor down
to the pettiest potentate, seemed now of opinion that the Prince had
better pause; that he was, indeed, bound to wait the issue of that
remonstrance. "Your highness must sit still," said Landgrave William.
"Your highness must sit still," said Augustus of Saxony. "You must move
neither hand nor foot in the cause of the perishing provinces," said the
Emperor. "Not a soldier-horse, foot, or dragoon-shall be levied within
the Empire. If you violate the peace of the realm, and embroil us with
our excellent brother and cousin Philip, it is at your own peril. You
have nothing to do but to keep quiet and await his answer to our letter."
But the Prince knew how much effect his sitting still would produce upon
the cause of liberty and religion. He knew how much effect the Emperor's
letter was like to have upon the heart of Philip. He knew that the more
impenetrable the darkness now gathering over that land of doom which he
had devoted his life to defend, the more urgently was he forbidden to
turn his face away from it in its affliction. He knew that thousands of
human souls, nigh to perishing, were daily turning towards him as their
only hope on earth, and he was resolved, so long as he could dispense a
single ray of light, that his countenance should never be averted. It is
difficult to contemplate his character, at this period, without being
infected with a perhaps dangerous enthusiasm. It is not an easy task
coldly to analyse a nature which contained so much of the self-
sacrificing and the heroic, as well as of the adroit and the subtle; and
it is almost impossible to give utterance to the emotions which naturally
swell the heart at the contemplation of so much active virtue, without
rendering oneself liable to the charge of excessive admiration. Through
the mists of adversity, a human form may dilate into proportions which
are colossal and deceptive. Our judgment may thus, perhaps, be led
captive, but at any rate the sentiment excited is more healthful than
that inspired by the mere shedder of blood, by the merely selfish
conqueror. When the cause of the champion is that of human right against
tyranny, of political ind religious freedom against an all-engrossing and
absolute bigotry, it is still more difficult to restrain veneration
within legitimate bounds. To liberate the souls and bodies of millions,
to maintain for a generous people, who had well-nigh lost their all,
those free institutions which their ancestors had bequeathed, was a noble
task for any man. But here stood a Prince of ancient race, vast
possessions, imperial blood, one of the great ones of the earth, whose
pathway along the beaten track would have been smooth and successful,
but who was ready to pour out his wealth like water, and to coin his
heart's blood, drop by drop, in this virtuous but almost desperate cause.
He felt that of a man to whom so much had been entrusted, much was to be
asked. God had endowed him with an incisive and comprehensive genius,
unfaltering fortitude, and with the rank and fortune which enable a man
to employ his faculties, to the injury or the happiness of his fellows,
on the widest scale. The Prince felt the responsibility, and the world
was to learn the result.
It was about this time that a deep change came over his mind. Hitherto,
although nominally attached to the communion of the ancient Church, his
course of life and habits of mind had not led him to deal very earnestly
with things beyond the world. The severe duties, the grave character of
the cause to which his days were henceforth to be devoted, had already
led him to a closer inspection of the essential attributes of
Christianity. He was now enrolled for life as a soldier of the
Reformation. The Reformation was henceforth his fatherland, the sphere,
of his duty and his affection. The religious Reformers became his
brethren, whether in France, Germany, the Netherlands, or England.
Yet his mind had taken a higher flight than that of the most eminent
Reformers. His goal was not a new doctrine, but religious liberty. In
an age when to think was a crime, and when bigotry and a persecuting
spirit characterized Romanists and Lutherans, Calvinists and Zwinglians,
he had dared to announce freedom of conscience as the great object for
which noble natures should strive. In an age when toleration was a vice,
he had the manhood to cultivate it as a virtue. His parting advice to
the Reformers of the Netherlands, when he left them for a season in the
spring of 1567, was to sink all lesser differences in religious union.
Those of the Augsburg Confession and those of the Calvinistic Church, in
their own opinion as incapable of commingling as oil and water, were, in
his judgment, capable of friendly amalgamation. He appealed eloquently
to the good and influential of all parties to unite in one common cause
against oppression. Even while favoring daily more and more the cause of
the purified Church, and becoming daily more alive to the corruption of
Rome, he was yet willing to tolerate all forms of worship, and to leave
reason to combat error.
Without a particle of cant or fanaticism, he had become a deeply
religious man. Hitherto he had been only a man of the world and a
statesman, but from this time forth he began calmly to rely upon God's
providence in all the emergencies of his eventful life. His letters
written to his most confidential friends, to be read only by themselves,
and which have been gazed upon by no other eyes until after the lapse of
nearly three centuries, abundantly prove his sincere and simple trust.
This sentiment was not assumed for effect to delude others, but cherished
as a secret support for himself. His religion was not a cloak to his
designs, but a consolation in his disasters. In his letter of
instruction to his most confidential agent, John Bazius, while he
declared himself frankly in favor of the Protestant principles, he
expressed his extreme repugnance to the persecution of Catholics.
"Should we obtain power over any city or cities," he wrote, "let the
communities of papists be as much respected and protected as possible.
Let them be overcome, not by violence, but with gentle-mindedness and
virtuous treatment." After the terrible disaster at Jemmingen, he had
written to Louis, consoling him, in the most affectionate language, for
the unfortunate result of his campaign. Not a word of reproach escaped
from him, although his brother had conducted the operations in Friesland,
after the battle of Heiliger Lee, in a manner quite contrary to his own
advice. He had counselled against a battle, and had foretold a defeat;
but after the battle had been fought and a crushing defeat sustained, his
language breathed only unwavering submission to the will of God, and
continued confidence in his own courage. "You may be well assured, my
brother," he wrote, "that I have never felt anything more keenly than the
pitiable misfortune which has happened to you, for many reasons which you
can easily imagine. Moreover, it hinders us much in the levy which we
are making, and has greatly chilled the hearts of those who otherwise
would have been ready to give us assistance. Nevertheless, since it has
thus pleased God, it is necessary to have patience and to lose not
courage; conforming ourselves to His divine will, as for my part I have
determined to do in everything which may happen, still proceeding onward
in our work with his Almighty aid. 'Soevis tranquillus in undis', he was
never more placid than when the storm was wildest and the night darkest.
He drew his consolations and refreshed his courage at the never-failing
fountains of Divine mercy.
"I go to-morrow," he wrote to the unworthy Anne of Saxony; "but when I
shall return, or when I shall see you, I cannot, on my honor, tell you
with certainty. I have resolved to place myself in the hands of the
Almighty, that he may guide me whither it is His good pleasure that I
should go. I see well enough that I am destined to pass this life in
misery and labor, with which I am well content, since it thus pleases the
Omnipotent, for I know that I have merited still greater chastisement.
I only implore Him graciously to send me strength to endure with
patience."
Such language, in letters the most private, never meant to be seen by
other eyes than those to which they were addressed, gives touching
testimony to the sincere piety of his character. No man was ever more
devoted to a high purpose, no man had ever more right to imagine himself,
or less inclination to pronounce himself, entrusted with a divine
mission. There was nothing of the charlatan in his character. His
nature was true and steadfast. No narrow-minded usurper was ever more
loyal to his own aggrandisement than this large-hearted man to the cause
of oppressed humanity. Yet it was inevitable that baser minds should
fail to recognise his purity. While he exhausted his life for the
emancipation of a people, it was easy to ascribe all his struggles to the
hope of founding a dynasty. It was natural for grovelling natures to
search in the gross soil of self-interest for the sustaining roots of the
tree beneath whose branches a nation found its shelter. What could they
comprehend of living fountains and of heavenly dews?
In May, 1568, the Emperor Maximilian had formally issued a requisition to
the Prince of Orange to lay down his arms, and to desist from all levies
and machinations against the King of Spain and the peace of the realm.
This summons he was commanded to obey on pain of forfeiting all rights,
fiefs, privileges and endowments bestowed by imperial hands on himself or
his predecessors, and of incurring the heaviest disgrace, punishment, and
penalties of the Empire.
To this document the Prince replied in August, having paid in the
meantime but little heed to its precepts. Now that the Emperor, who at
first was benignant, had begun to frown on his undertaking, he did not
slacken in his own endeavours to set his army on foot. One by one, those
among the princes of the empire who had been most stanch in his cause,
and were still most friendly to his person, grew colder as tyranny became
stronger; but the ardor of the Prince was not more chilled by their
despair than by the overthrow at Jemmingen, which had been its cause.
In August, he answered the letter of the Emperor, respectfully but
warmly. He still denounced the tyranny of Alva and the arts of Granvelle
with that vigorous eloquence which was always at his command, while, as
usual, he maintained a show of almost exaggerated respect for their
monarch. It was not to be presumed, he said, that his Majesty, "a king
debonair and bountiful," had ever intended such cruelties as those which
had been rapidly retraced in the letter, but it was certain that the Duke
of Alva had committed them all of his own authority. He trusted,
moreover, that the Emperor, after he had read the "Justification"
which the Prince had recently published, would appreciate the reason
for his taking up arms. He hoped that his Majesty would now consider
the resistance just, Christian, and conformable to the public peace.
He expressed the belief that rather than interpose any hindrance, his
Majesty would thenceforth rather render assistance "to the poor and
desolate Christians," even as it was his Majesty's office and authority
to be the last refuge of the injured.
The "Justification against the false blame of his calumniators by the
Prince of Orange," to which the Prince thus referred, has been mentioned
in a previous chapter. This remarkable paper had been drawn up at the
advice of his friends, Landgrave William and Elector Augustus, but it was
not the only document which the Prince caused to be published at this
important epoch. He issued a formal declaration of war against the Duke
of Alva; he addressed a solemn and eloquent warning or proclamation to
all the inhabitants of the Netherlands. These documents are all
extremely important and interesting. Their phraseology shows the
intentions and the spirit by which the Prince was actuated on first
engaging in the struggle. Without the Prince and his efforts--at this
juncture, there would probably have never been a free Netherland
commonwealth. It is certain, likewise, that without an enthusiastic
passion for civil and religious liberty throughout the masses of the
Netherland people, there would have been no successful effort on the
part of the Prince. He knew his countrymen; while they, from highest
to humblest, recognised in him their saviour. There was, however,
no pretence of a revolutionary movement. The Prince came to maintain,
not to overthrow. The freedom which had been enjoyed in the provinces
until the accession of the Burgundian dynasty, it was his purpose to
restore. The attitude which he now assumed was a peculiar one in
history. This defender of a people's cause set up no revolutionary
standard. In all his documents he paid apparent reverence to the
authority of the King. By a fiction, which was not unphilosophical,
he assumed that the monarch was incapable of the crimes which he charged
upon the Viceroy. Thus he did not assume the character of a rebel in
arms against his prince, but in his own capacity of sovereign he levied
troops and waged war against a satrap whom he chose to consider false to
his master's orders. In the interest of Philip, assumed to be identical
with the welfare of his people, he took up arms against the tyrant who
was sacrificing both. This mask of loyalty would never save his head
from the block, as he well knew, but some spirits lofty as his own, might
perhaps be influenced by a noble sophistry, which sought to strengthen
the cause of the people by attributing virtue to the King.
And thus did the sovereign of an insignificant little principality stand
boldly forth to do battle with the most powerful monarch in the world.
At his own expense, and by almost superhuman exertions, he had assembled
nearly thirty thousand men. He now boldly proclaimed to the world, and
especially to the inhabitants of the provinces, his motives, his
purposes, and his hopes.
"We, by God's grace Prince of Orange," said his declaration of 31st
August, 1568, "salute all faithful subjects of his Majesty. To few
people is it unknown that the Spaniards have for a long time sought
to govern the land according to their pleasure. Abusing his
Majesty's goodness, they have persuaded him to decree the
introduction of the inquisition into the Netherlands. They well
understood, that in case the Netherlanders could be made to tolerate
its exercise, they would lose all protection to their liberty; that
if they opposed its introduction, they would open those rich
provinces as a vast field of plunder. We had hoped that his
Majesty, taking the matter to heart, would have spared his
hereditary provinces from such utter ruin. We have found our hopes
futile. We are unable, by reason of our loyal service due to his
Majesty, and of our true compassion for the faithful lieges, to look
with tranquillity any longer at such murders, robberies, outrages,
and agony. We are, moreover, certain that his Majesty has been
badly informed upon Netherland matters. We take up arms, therefore,
to oppose the violent tyranny of the Spaniards, by the help of the
merciful God, who is the enemy of all bloodthirstiness. Cheerfully
inclined to wager our life and all our worldly wealth on the cause,
we have now, God be thanked, an excellent army of cavalry, infantry,
and artillery, raised all at our own expense. We summon all loyal
subjects of the Netherlands to come and help us. Let them take to
heart the uttermost need of the country, the danger of perpetual
slavery for themselves and their children, and of the entire
overthrow of the Evangelical religion. Only when Alva's blood-
thirstiness shall have been at last overpowered, can the provinces
hope to recover their pure administration of justice, and a
prosperous condition for their commonwealth."
In the "warning" or proclamation to all the inhabitants of the
Netherlands, the Prince expressed similar sentiments. He announced his
intention of expelling the Spaniards forever from the country. To
accomplish the mighty undertaking, money was necessary. He accordingly
called on his countrymen to contribute, the rich out of their abundance,
the poor even out of their poverty, to the furtherance of the cause.
To do this, while it was yet time, he solemnly warned them "before God,
the fatherland, and the world." After the title of this paper were cited
the 28th, 29th, and 30th verses of the tenth chapter of Proverbs. The
favorite motto of the Prince, "pro lege, rege, grege," was also affixed
to the document.
These appeals had, however, but little effect. Of three hundred thousand
crowns, promised on behalf of leading nobles and merchants of the
Netherlands by Marcus Perez, but ten or twelve thousand came to hand.
The appeals to the gentlemen who had signed the Compromise, and to many
others who had, in times past, been favorable to the liberal party were
powerless. A poor Anabaptist preacher collected a small sum from a
refugee congregation on the outskirts of Holland, and brought it, at the
peril of his life, into the Prince's camp. It came from people, he said,
whose will was better than the gift. They never wished to be repaid, he
said, except by kindness, when the cause of reform should be triumphant
in the Netherlands. The Prince signed a receipt for the money,
expressing himself touched by this sympathy from these poor outcasts. In
the course of time, other contributions from similar sources, principally
collected by dissenting preachers, starving and persecuted church
communities, were received. The poverty-stricken exiles contributed
far more, in proportion, for the establishment of civil and religious
liberty, than the wealthy merchants or the haughty nobles.
Late in September, the Prince mustered his army in the province of
Treves, near the monastery of Romersdorf. His force amounted to nearly
thirty thousand men, of whom nine thousand were cavalry. Lumey, Count de
la Marek, now joined him at the head of a picked band of troopers; a
bold, ferocious partisan, descended from the celebrated Wild Boar of
Ardennes. Like Civilis, the ancient Batavian hero, he had sworn to leave
hair and beard unshorn till the liberation of the country was achieved,
or at least till the death of Egmont, whose blood relation he was, had
been avenged. It is probable that the fierce conduct of this chieftain,
and particularly the cruelties exercised upon monks and papists by his
troops, dishonored the cause more than their valor could advance it. But
in those stormy times such rude but incisive instruments were scarcely to
be neglected, and the name of Lumey was to be forever associated with
important triumphs of the liberal cause.