There was so much brave daring in D. John's act of entering alone a
country, for the most part rebel and not a little heretical, his Spanish
troops already dismissed, and without other guards than the Duke of
Arschot's Flemings, that the Prince of Orange and his followers were
amazed and understood that nothing would stop D. John if he were not
deprived of life or liberty. They determined, therefore, to effect one
or the other, and the numerous agents of Orange, helped by those of the
Queen of England, went about the country spreading clever calumnies
against him, to prepare the way, maliciously interpreting all his acts
and gradually making him and his government hated. Faithful to the
policy of peace which had been enjoined on him, D. John wished to confer
with Orange, and sent the Duke of Arschot to tell him that the Provinces
of Holland and Zeeland were the only two which had not signed the
"Perpetual Edict," and as they were under his command D. John confided
this task to him. Orange then threw off that mask, which had gained for
him the surname of "Silent," and with which he had covered his ambitions
and mischievous designs, and answered Arschot that Holland and Zeeland
would never sign the "Perpetual Edict," as both these provinces were
Calvinistic and neither would promise to keep the Roman faith, and
taking off his hat and showing his bald head, he said to the Duke, with
a smile, "You see my head is bald (calva)! Then know that it is not more
so than my heart." This play upon words signified that the traitor meant
he was also a Calvinist, and his apostasy being now known, all hopes of
agreement were at an end. In truth, Orange continued his infamous war of
calumnies and perfidious intrigues against D. John even more openly from
this time, and with the greatest effrontery as also all that he had
hitherto done in secret to the Catholic Church in the provinces of
Holland and Zeeland: persecuting the clergy, expelling monks and nuns,
destroying temples and altars, melting bells to make cannon,
confiscating ecclesiastical revenues for his own purse or those of his
partisans, and from the pulpits of Catholic churches making heretic
ministers preach the doctrines of Calvin. At such impious insolence D.
John proposed to the States to join their troops with those of the King,
and make war on Orange and seize the provinces he had usurped; but the
States put off his proposal with such shallow excuses that D. John could
easily see that mutual and secret confidence existed between them and
Orange. Meanwhile, in Brussels, the want of confidence and even the
hatred which the agents and partisans of Orange the Silent had sown
against the Austrian, grew more and more. These men became so barefaced
that they wore special caps and medals with allusive letters, and the
authorities and deputies became so arrogant that they ordered D. John to
be called the Magistrate of Brussels, as if he were what we should now
call the Mayor. He answered that they must come and see him, because it
was not usual for the Magistrate to hear anyone outside the Hôtel de
Ville.
The solemn festivity which the magistrates were accustomed to hold in
the Hôtel de Ville, a banquet, always presided over by the
Governor-General, was about to take place. D. John received several
warnings not to attend it, as something was being contrived against his
person; but he, even more afraid of showing that he distrusted the
magistrates, came to occupy his place, accompanied by eighty musketeers
of his guard, who had orders that, happen what might, they were to wound
nobody. Half-way through the banquet a crowd of seditious people
attacked the Hôtel de Ville, intending to enter by force, uttering
insults and threats against the Austrian. The musketeers drove them back
without wounding any, but many of them were hurt. D. John retired with
those who remained uninjured, leaving the magistrates to deal with the
guilty ones, but they overlooked this and let them go free, to show D.
John that they did not consider an affront to his person worth
punishing. Then it came to D. John's knowledge that the Baron of Hesse
and Count de Lalaing, with two other great lords, confirmed heretics,
had assembled one night in the house of another noble, and had arranged
with the English ambassador and more than 500 neighbours to take D. John
at the first opportunity and to kill him if he resisted. They thought
that the procession of the Holy Sacrament, called in Brussels the
"Miracle," might afford a good one. It took place on the 3rd of July and
was always presided over by the Governor-General. D. John did not wish
to break with the States, who were consenting to all this, and preferred
to avoid the danger by going to Mechlin on the pretence of settling the
pay of the German troops, who were asking for their money, which was in
arrears. But his friends did not think him safe there and so they told
him; because the conspirators, furious at their prey having escaped
them, armed the militia and took the road to Luxemburg, which was a
quiet place where D. John and Alexander Farnese could take refuge, and
to which the Spanish troops could return. With great patience D. John
thought it wise still to dissimulate, and found another plausible excuse
for leaving Mechlin and not returning to Brussels and getting nearer to
a strong and safe place. He went to Namur, very quietly and calmly, to
receive the Queen of Navarre, Margaret of Valois, who was passing in
order to take the waters of Spa at Liége. This lady was the celebrated
Queen Margot, first wife of Henry IV of France, then at the summit of
her vaunted beauty and in the waxing period of her coquetry, which at
last degenerated, as it generally does, into shameless and complete
dissoluteness.
Queen Margot entered Namur on the 24th of July in a litter entirely made
of glass, a present from D. John of Austria. The glass of the litter was
engraved with forty verses in Spanish and Italian, all alluding to the
sun and its effects, to which the poet gallantly compared the beautiful
Queen. D. John rode on her right, and their persons were guarded by the
forty archers who surrounded them; they were preceded by a company of
arquebusiers on horseback and one hundred Germans forming two lines, and
were followed by the Princess de la Roche sur Yonne and Mme. de Tournon
in litters; ten maids of honour, as pretty, coquettish and flighty as
their mistress, were riding amid a crowd of gentlemen, who waited on
them and flirted with them; six coaches were in the rear with the rest
of the ladies, and the female servants and an escort of lancers on
horseback.
Queen Margot stayed four days in Namur, entertained all the time
magnificently by D. John; at eleven o'clock they dined in one of the
delicious gardens of the place, and then danced till the hour of
vespers, which they went devoutly to attend in some convent of friars.
Then they went for a ride and supped at six o'clock, also out of doors
in the gardens, when more dancing followed, or romantic walks by the
river in the moonlight with delightful music. The Bishop of Liége, who
had come there, was present at all these gatherings, also the Canons and
a crowd of native and foreign gentlemen, among whom Margot made her
treacherous propaganda, because this bad woman, (as she always was in
many ways) was in connivance with the Prince of Orange, and was working
secretly in favour of her brother the Duke of Alençon, whom Orange
wished to appoint Governor of Flanders, D. John being a prisoner or
dead. Margot knew this, and she, being very much taken with him and not
wishing any harm to befall him, gave him several very useful warnings;
through her he knew that the conspirators of Brussels had plans for
carrying out their evil designs there in Namur, and then it was that, in
agreement with the loyal Count of Barlaimont and his sons, he resolved
to retire to the castle of Namur and break with the States.
He was, however, ignorant of the number of the soldiers in the castle,
and how far it was safe to count on the Governor de Ives; time pressed
and he then formed a scheme, the execution of which Vander Hammen refers
to as follows: "Mos. de Hierges, eldest son of the Count of Barlaimont,
said that he would go to sleep that night at the castle, as Mos. de
Ives, the Governor, was a great friend of his; and that His Highness
would come next morning to hunt, and as he passed, if he thought he
could install himself in the castle, he would put his hand to his beard
as a signal, and if not he was to commend himself to God and fly. They
agreed on the plan and executed it the following day, without telling
the Council of the States or the deputies or trusting them. He therefore
pretended to go hunting, and passing by the gate of the castle asked
what it was. They answered, 'One of the best in Flanders.' Monsieur de
Barlaimont then said, 'My eldest son is there: would Y.H. like us to see
if he wishes to go hunting?' D. John stopped and ordered him to be
called. He came to the gate; His Highness asked why he had gone to sleep
at a castle and had left the town, and then they began a conversation.
In the middle of it he said, 'If you like to see it, it is still early
and it will please them greatly,' and made the sign. D. John turned to
the Duke of Arschot and the Marquis de Havré, and said to them, 'It is
early, let us see it.' With this he reached the door and dismounted,
carrying a pistol he had taken from the saddle-bow. Twenty-four Spanish
lackeys preceded him. As relations were not ruptured, Mos. de Ives
ordered the few Walloons (they were old soldiers, wearied by long wars)
to open the door, and the twenty-four lackeys entered and disarmed the
guard. The Lord D. John, standing at the door, said, 'All who are
servants of the King, my Lord, come here to me,' and turning to Ives, he
told him 'not to fear, because he had taken the castle for the King, his
Lord, to whom it belonged, to free himself from a conspiracy formed
against him.' He gave him the keys and permission to leave to all those
who did not wish to stay with him. Nobody stirred, all mounted with him.
Upstairs he took Arschot and Havré on one side, and told them all that
had passed and the treaty they had made, and showed them his letters.
The Duke, being convinced, offered, in the name of the States, to
acknowledge him Lord of Flanders, and said that all would readily obey
him if he liked to take them as vassals; but the Lord D. John reproved
him very severely for the offer, and said many angry words. It was only
his courage and loyalty which could do so heroic an action and resist
such a great temptation. The talk ended by the two leaving the castle
and going to the town, where their wives were; but on reaching it they,
also Mos. de Capres and the soldiers who had come to capture His
Highness fled, so hurriedly, that they scarcely collected their clothes,
saying that there was nothing further to do there as he had escaped
them. D. John's chief almoner, the Abbot de Meroles, who was crafty and
untrustworthy, followed them with a few others. D. John heard of the
flight of the Duke and the Marquis, and at once sent Octavio Gonzaga
after them, with rather more than twenty gentlemen, to make them return,
but they fled in such good earnest that he could not overtake them."
The Duchess of Arschot and the Marchioness of Havré, who were at Namur,
indignant at the bad conduct of their husbands, wrote to D. John
protesting and offering themselves as hostages. He answered that his
mission was to serve ladies, not to make them captive, and sent them 600
crowns, so that they might rejoin their husbands. So impoverished was D.
John that to obtain this money he had to borrow from the gentlemen and
servants who had followed him. Bad as this was, the worst part of D.
John's situation was that Philip II persisted in upholding that policy
of peace, which was encouraging the States more and more, forbidding the
Spanish regiments to return to Flanders to continue the war, which D.
John thought absolutely necessary, and as a means of forcing him to this
obedience, against his opinions and wishes Philip adopted the plan of
sending no money whatever to Flanders or answering the frequent and
despairing letters the poor Prince wrote, which, after four centuries,
give one pain to read. But what was the most extraordinary, and which
immersed D. John in a sea of fears and perplexities and made him foresee
grave catastrophes, was that his false friend Antonio Pérez did not
write either, and the good and loyal Escovedo preserved the same
silence.