XI. FREEDOM OF WORSHIP…

XI. FREEDOM OF WORSHIP

The Edicts suspended.--The Sectaries.--The Public Preachings.--Attempt to suppress them.--Meeting at St. Trond.--Philip's Concessions.

1566.

On quitting Brussels, the confederates left there four of their number as a sort of committee to watch over the interests of the league. The greater part of the remainder, with Brederode at their head, took the road to Antwerp. They were hardly established in their quarters in that city, when the building was surrounded by thousands of the inhabitants, eager to give their visitors a tumultuous welcome. Brederode came out on the balcony, and, addressing the crowd, told them that he had come there, at the hazard of his life, to rescue them from the miseries of the Inquisition. He called on his audience to take him as their leader in this glorious work; and as the doughty champion pledged them in a goblet of wine which he had brought with him from the table, the mob answered by such a general shout as was heard in the furthest corners of the city.[756] Thus a relation was openly established between the confederates and the people, who were to move forward together in the great march of the revolution.

Soon after the departure of the confederates from Brussels, the regent despatched an embassy to Madrid to acquaint the king with the recent proceedings, and to urge his acquiescence in the reforms solicited by the league. The envoys chosen were the baron de Montigny--who had taken charge, it may be remembered, of a similar mission before--and the marquis of Bergen, a nobleman of liberal principles, but who stood high in the regard of the regent.[757] Neither of the parties showed any alacrity to undertake a commission which was to bring them so closely in contact with the dread monarch in his capital. Bergen found an apology for some time in a wound from a tennis-ball, which disabled his leg; an ominous accident, interpreted by the chroniclers of the time into an intimation from Heaven of the disastrous issue of the mission.[758] Montigny reached Madrid some time before his companion, on the seventeenth of June, and met with a gracious reception from Philip, who listened with a benignant air to the recital of the measures suggested for the relief of the country, terminating, as usual, with an application for a summons of the states-general, as the most effectual remedy for the disorders. But although the envoy was admitted to more than one audience, he obtained no more comfortable assurance, than that the subject should receive the most serious consideration of his majesty.[759]

[Sidenote: THE EDICTS SUSPENDED.]

Meanwhile the regent was busy in digesting the plan of compromise to which she had alluded in her reply to the confederates. When concluded, it was sent to the governors of the several provinces, to be laid before their respective legislatures. Their sanction, it was hoped, would recommend its adoption to the people at large. It was first submitted to some of the smaller states, as Artois, Namur, and Luxemburg, as most likely to prove subservient to the wishes of the government. It was then laid before several of the larger states, as Brabant and Flanders, whose determination might be influenced by the example of the others. Holland, Zealand, Utrecht, and one or two other provinces, where the spirit of independence was highest, were not consulted at all. Yet this politic management did not entirely succeed; and although some few gave an unconditional assent, most of the provinces coupled their acquiescence with limitations that rendered it of little worth.[760]

This was not extraordinary. The scheme was one which, however large the concessions it involved on the part of the government, fell far short of those demanded by the people. It denounced the penalty of death on all ministers and teachers of the reformed religion, and all who harbored them; and while it greatly mitigated the punishment of other offenders, its few sanguinary features led the people sneeringly to call it, instead of "moderation," the act of "murderation."[761] It fared, indeed, with this compromise of the regent, as with most other half-way measures. It satisfied neither of the parties concerned in it. The king thought it as much too lenient as the people thought it too severe. It never received the royal sanction, and of course never became a law. It would therefore hardly have deserved the time I have bestowed on it, except as evidence of the conciliatory spirit of the regent's administration.

In the same spirit Margaret was careful to urge the royal officers to give a liberal interpretation to the existing edicts, and to show the utmost discretion in their execution. These functionaries were not slow in obeying commands, which released them from so much of the odium that attached to their ungrateful office. The amiable temper of the government received support from a singular fraud which took place at this time. An instrument was prepared, purporting to have come from the knights of the Golden Fleece, in which this body guarantied to the confederates that no one in the Low Countries should be molested on account of his religion until otherwise determined by the king and the states-general. This document, which carried its spurious origin on its face, was nevertheless eagerly caught up and circulated among the people, ready to believe what they most desired. In vain the regent, as soon as she heard of it, endeavored to expose the fraud. It was too late; and the influence of this imposture combined with the tolerant measures of the government to inspire a confidence in the community which was soon visible in its results. Some who had gone into exile returned to their country. Many, who had cherished the new doctrines in secret, openly avowed them; while others who were wavering, now that they were relieved from all fear of consequences, became fixed in their opinions. In short, the Reformation, in some form or other, was making rapid advances over the country.[762]

Of the three great sects who embraced it, the Lutherans, the least numerous, were the most eminent for their rank. The Anabaptists, far exceeding them in number, were drawn almost wholly from the humbler classes of the people. It is singular that this sect, the most quiet and inoffensive of all, should have been uniformly dealt with by the law with peculiar rigor. It may, perhaps, be attributed to the bad name which attached to them from the excesses committed by their brethren, the famous Anabaptists of Münster. The third denomination, the Calvinists, far out-numbered both of the other two. They were also the most active in the spirit of proselytism. They were stimulated by missionaries trained in the schools of Geneva; and as their doctrines spread silently over the land, not only men of piety and learning, but persons of the highest social position, were occasionally drawn within the folds of the sect.

The head-quarters of the Calvinists were in Flanders, Hainault, Artois, and the provinces contiguous to France. The border land became the residence of French Huguenots, and of banished Flemings, who on this outpost diligently labored in the cause of the Reformation. The press teemed with publications,--vindications of the faith, polemical tracts, treatises, and satires against the Church of Rome and its errors,--those spiritual missiles, in short, which form the usual magazine for controversial warfare. These were distributed by means of peddlers and travelling tinkers, who carried them, in their distant wanderings, to the humblest firesides throughout the country. There they were left to do their work; and the ground was thus prepared for the laborers whose advent forms an epoch in the history of the Reformation.[763]

These were the ministers or missionaries, whose public preaching soon caused a great sensation throughout the land. They first made their appearance in Western Flanders, before small audiences gathered together stealthily in the gloom of the forest and in the silence of night. They gradually emerged into the open plains, thence proceeding to the villages, until, growing bolder with impunity, they showed themselves in the suburbs of the great towns and cities. On these occasions, thousands of the inhabitants, men, women, and children, in too great force for the magistrates to resist them, poured out of the gates to hear the preacher. In the centre of the ground a rude staging was erected, with an awning to protect him from the weather. Immediately round the rude pulpit was gathered the more helpless part of the congregation, the women and children. Behind them stood the men,--those in the outer circle usually furnished with arms,--swords, pikes, muskets,--any weapon they could pick up for the occasion. A patrol of horse occupied the ground beyond, to protect the assembly and prevent interruption. A barricade of wagons and other vehicles was thrown across the avenues that led to the place, to defend it against the assaults of the magistrates or the military. Persons stationed along the high roads distributed religious tracts, and invited the passengers to take part in the services.[764]

[Sidenote: THE PUBLIC PREACHINGS.]

The preacher was frequently some converted priest or friar, accustomed to speak in public, who, having passed the greater part of his life in battling for the Church, now showed equal zeal in overturning it. It might be, however, that the orator was a layman; some peasant or artisan, who, gifted with more wit, or possibly more effrontery, than his neighbors, felt himself called on to assume the perilous vocation of a preacher. The discourse was in French or Flemish, whichever might be the language spoken in the neighborhood. It was generally of the homely texture suited both to the speaker and his audience. Yet sometimes he descanted on the woes of the land with a pathos which drew tears from every eye; and at others gave vent to a torrent of fiery eloquence, that kindled the spirit of the ancient martyr in the bosoms of his hearers.

These lofty flights were too often degraded by coarse and scurrilous invectives against the pope, the clergy, and the Inquisition,--themes, peculiarly grateful to his audience, who testified their applause by as noisy demonstrations as if they had been spectators in a theatre. The service was followed by singing some portion of the Psalms in the French version of Marot, or in a Dutch translation which had recently appeared in Holland,[765] and which, although sufficiently rude, passed with the simple people for a wonderful composition. After this, it was common for those who attended to present their infants for baptism; and many couples profited by the occasion to have the marriage ceremony performed with the Calvinistic rites. The exercises were concluded by a collection for the poor of their own denomination. In fine, these meetings, notwithstanding the occasional licence of the preacher, seem to have been conducted with a seriousness and decorum which hardly merit the obloquy thrown on them by some of the Catholic writers.

The congregation, it is true, was made up of rather motley materials. Some went out merely to learn what manner of doctrine it was that was taught; others, to hear the singing, where thousands of voices blended together in rude harmony under the canopy of heaven; others, again, with no better motive than amusement, to laugh at the oddity--perhaps the buffoonery--of the preacher. But far the larger portion of the audience went with the purpose of joining in the religious exercises, and worshipping God in their own way.[766] We may imagine what an influence must have been exercised by these meetings, where so many were gathered together, under a sense of common danger, to listen to the words of the teacher, who taught them to hold all human law as light in comparison with the higher law of conscience seated in their own bosoms. Even of those who came to scoff, few there were, probably, who did not go away with some food for meditation, or, it may be, the seeds of future conversion implanted in their breasts.

The first of these public preachings--which began as early as May--took place in the neighborhood of Ghent. Between six and seven thousand persons were assembled. A magistrate of the city, with more valor than discretion, mounted his horse, and, armed with sword and pistol, rode in among the multitude, and undertook to arrest the minister. But the people hastened to his rescue, and dealt so roughly with the unfortunate officer, that he barely escaped with life from their hands.[767]

From Ghent the preachings extended to Ypres, Bruges, and other great towns of Flanders,--always in the suburbs,--to Valenciennes, and to Tournay, in the province of Hainault, where the Reformers were strong enough to demand a place of worship within the walls. Holland was ready for the Word. Ministers of the new religion, as it was called, were sent both to that quarter and to Zealand. Gatherings of great multitudes were held in the environs of Amsterdam, the Hague, Haarlem, and other large towns, at which the magistrates were sometimes to be found mingled with the rest of the burghers.

But the place where these meetings were conducted on the greatest scale was Antwerp, a city containing then more than a hundred thousand inhabitants, and the most important mart for commerce in the Netherlands. It was the great resort of foreigners. Many of these were Huguenots, who, under the pretext of trade, were much more busy with the concerns of their religion. At the meetings without the walls, it was not uncommon for thirteen or fourteen thousand persons to assemble.[768] Resistance on the part of the magistrates was ineffectual. The mob got possession of the keys of the city; and, as most of the Calvinists were armed, they constituted a formidable force. Conscious of their strength, they openly escorted their ministers back to town, and loudly demanded that some place of worship should be appropriated to them within the walls of Antwerp. The quiet burghers became alarmed. As it was known that in the camp of the Reformers were many reckless and disorderly persons, they feared the town might be given over to pillage. All trade ceased. Many of the merchants secreted their effects, and some prepared to make their escape as speedily as possible.[769]

The magistrates, in great confusion, applied to the regent, and besought her to transfer her residence to Antwerp, where her presence might overawe the spirit of sedition. But Margaret's council objected to her placing herself in the hands of so factious a population; and she answered the magistrates by inquiring what guaranty they could give her for her personal safety. They then requested that the prince of Orange, who held the office of burgrave of Antwerp, and whose influence with the people was unbounded, might be sent to them. Margaret hesitated as to this; for she had now learned to regard William with distrust, as assuming more and more an unfriendly attitude towards her brother.[770] But she had no alternative, and she requested him to transfer his residence to the disorderly capital, and endeavor to restore it to tranquillity. The prince, on the other hand, disgusted with the course of public affairs, had long wished to withdraw from any share in their management. It was with reluctance he accepted the commission.

[Sidenote: ATTEMPT TO SUPPRESS PREACHINGS.]

As he drew near to Antwerp the people flocked out by thousands to welcome him. It would seem as if they hailed him as their deliverer; and every window, verandah, and roof was crowded with spectators as he rode through the gates of the capital.[771] The people ran up and down the streets, singing psalms, or shouting, "Vivent les Gueux!" while they thronged round the prince's horse in so dense a mass that it was scarcely possible for him to force a passage.[772] Yet these demonstrations of his popularity were not altogether satisfactory; and he felt no pleasure at being thus welcomed as a chief of the league, which, as we have seen, he was far from regarding with approbation. Waving his hand repeatedly to those around him, he called on them to disperse, impatiently exclaiming, "Take heed what you do, or, by Heaven, you will have reason to rue it."[773] He rode straight to the hall where the magistrates were sitting, and took counsel with them as to the best means of allaying the popular excitement, and of preventing the wealthy burghers from quitting the city. During the few weeks he remained there, the prince conducted affairs so discreetly, as to bring about a better understanding between the authorities and the citizens. He even prevailed on the Calvinists to lay aside their arms. He found more difficulty in persuading them to relinquish the design of appropriating to themselves some place of worship within the walls. It was not till William called in the aid of the military to support him, that he compelled them to yield.[774]

Thus the spirit of reform was rapidly advancing in every part of the country,--even in presence of the court, under the very eye of the regent. In Brussels the people went through the streets by night, singing psalms, and shouting the war-cry of Vivent les Gueux! The merchants and wealthy burghers were to be seen with the insignia of the confederates on their dress.[775] Preparations were made for a public preaching without the walls; but the duchess at once declared, that in that event she would make one of the company at the head of her guard, seize the preacher, and hang him up at the gates of the city![776] This menace had the desired effect.

During these troublous times, Margaret, however little she may have accomplished, could not be accused of sleeping on her post. She caused fasts to be observed, and prayers to be offered in all the churches, to avert the wrath of Heaven from the land. She did not confine herself to these spiritual weapons, but called on the magistrates of the towns to do their duty, and on all good citizens to support them. She commanded foreigners to leave Antwerp, except those only who were there for traffic. She caused placards to be everywhere posted up, reciting the terrible penalties of the law against heretical teachers and those who abetted them; and she offered a reward of six hundred florins to whoever should bring any such offender to punishment.[777] She strengthened the garrisoned towns, and would have levied a force to overawe the refractory; but she had not the funds to pay for it. She endeavored to provide these by means of loans from the great clergy and the principal towns; but with indifferent success. Most of them were already creditors of the government, and they liked the security too little to make further advances. In her extremity, Margaret had no resource but the one so often tried,--that of invoking the aid of her brother. "I have no refuge," she wrote, "but in God and your majesty. It is with anguish and dismay I must admit that my efforts have wholly failed to prevent the public preaching, which has spread over every quarter of the country."[778] She bitterly complains, in another letter, that, after "so many pressing applications, she should be thus left, without aid and without instructions, to grope her way at random."[779] She again beseeches Philip to make the concessions demanded, in which event the great lords assure her of their support in restoring order.

It was the policy of the cabinet of Madrid not to commit itself. The royal answers were brief, vague, never indicating a new measure, generally intimating satisfaction with the conduct of the regent, and throwing as far as possible all responsibility on her shoulders.

But besides his sister's letters, the king was careful to provide himself with other sources of information respecting the state of the Netherlands. From some of these the accounts he received of the conduct of the great lords were even less favorable than hers. A letter from the secretary, Armenteros, speaks of the difficulty he finds in fathoming the designs of the prince of Orange,--a circumstance which he attributes to his probable change of religion. "He relies much," says the writer, "on the support he receives in Germany, on his numerous friends at home, and on the general distrust entertained of the king. The prince is making preparations in good season," he concludes, "for defending himself against your majesty."[780]

Yet Philip did not betray any consciousness of this unfriendly temper in the nobles. To the prince of Orange, in particular, he wrote: "You err in imagining that I have not entire confidence in you. Should any one seek to do you an ill office with me, I should not be so light as to give ear to him, having had so large experience of your loyalty and your services."[781] "This is not the time," he adds, "for men like you to withdraw from public affairs." But William was the last man to be duped by these fair words. When others inveighed against the conduct of the regent, William excused her by throwing the blame on Philip. "Resolved to deceive all," he said, "he begins by deceiving his sister."[782]

[Sidenote: MEETING AT ST. TROND.]

It was about the middle of July that an event occurred which caused still greater confusion in the affairs of the Netherlands. This was a meeting of the confederates at St. Trond, in the neighborhood of Liege. They assembled, two thousand in number, with Count Louis and Brederode at their head. Their great object was to devise some means for their personal security. They were aware that they were held responsible, to some extent, for the late religious movements among the people.[783] They were discontented with the prolonged silence of the king, and they were alarmed by rumors of military preparations, said to be designed against them. The discussions of the assembly, long and animated, showed some difference of opinion. All agreed to demand some guaranty from the government for their security. But the greater part of the body, no longer halting at the original limits of their petition, were now for demanding absolute toleration in matters of religion. Some few of the number, stanch Catholics at heart, who for the first time seem to have had their eyes opened to the results to which they were inevitably tending, now, greatly disgusted, withdrew from the league. Among these was the younger Count Mansfeldt,--a name destined to become famous in the annals of the revolution.

Margaret, much alarmed by these new demonstrations, sent Orange and Egmont to confer with the confederates, and demand why they were thus met in an unfriendly attitude towards the government which they had so lately pledged themselves to support in maintaining order. The confederates replied by sending a deputation of their body to submit their grievances anew to the regent.

The deputies, twelve in number, and profanely nicknamed at Brussels "the twelve apostles,"[784] presented themselves, with Count Louis at their head, on the twenty-eighth of July, at the capital. Margaret, who with difficulty consented to receive them in person, gave unequivocal signs of her displeasure. In the plain language of Louis, "the regent was ready to burst with anger."[785] The memorial, or rather remonstrance, presented to her was not calculated to allay it.

Without going into details, it is only necessary to say, that the confederates, after stating their grounds for apprehension, requested that an assurance should be given by the government that no harm was intended them. As to pardon for the past, they disclaimed all desire for it. What they had done called for applause, not condemnation. They only trusted that his majesty would be pleased to grant a convocation of the states-general, to settle the affairs of the country. In the mean time, they besought him to allow the concerns of the confederates to be placed in the hands of the prince of Orange, and the Counts Egmont and Hoorne, to act as their mediators with the crown, promising in all things to be guided by their counsel. Thus would tranquillity be restored. But without some guaranty for their safety, they should be obliged to protect themselves by foreign aid.[786]

The haughty tone of this memorial forms a striking contrast with that of the petition presented by the same body not four months before, and shows with what rapid strides the revolution had advanced. The religious agitations had revealed the amount of discontent in the country, and to what extent, therefore, the confederates might rely on the sympathy of the people. This was most unequivocally proved during the meeting of St. Trond, where memorials were presented by the merchants, and by persons of the Reformed religion, praying the protection of the league to secure them freedom of worship, till otherwise determined by the states-general. This extraordinary request was granted.[787] Thus the two great parties leaned on each other for support, and gave mutual confidence to their respective movements. The confederates, discarding the idea of grace, which they had once solicited, now darkly intimated a possible appeal to arms. The Reformers, on their side, instead of the mitigation of penalties, now talked of nothing less than absolute toleration. Thus political Revolution and religious Reform went hand in hand together. The nobles and the commons, the two most opposite elements of the body politic, were united closely by a common interest; and a formidable opposition was organized to the designs of the monarch, which might have made any monarch tremble on his throne.

An important fact shows that the confederates coolly looked forward, even at this time, to a conflict with Spain. Louis of Nassau had a large correspondence with the leaders of the Huguenots in France, and of the Lutherans in Germany. By the former he had been offered substantial aid in the way of troops. But the national jealousy entertained of the French would have made it impolitic to accept it. He turned therefore to Germany, where he had numerous connections, and where he subsidized a force consisting of four thousand horse and forty companies of foot, to be at the disposal of the league. This negotiation was conducted under the eye, and, as it seems, partly through the agency, of his brother William.[788] From this moment, therefore, if not before, the prince of Orange may be identified with the party who were prepared to maintain their rights by an appeal to arms.

[Sidenote: MEETING AT ST. TROND.]

These movements of the league could not be kept so close but that they came to the knowledge of Margaret. Indeed, she had her secret agents at St. Trond, who put her in possession of whatever was done, or even designed, by the confederates.[789] This was fully exhibited in her correspondence with Philip, while she again called his attention to the forlorn condition of the government, without men, or money, or the means to raise it.[790] "The sectaries go armed," she writes, "and are organizing their forces. The league is with them. There remains nothing but that they should band together, and sack the towns, villages, and churches, of which I am in marvellous great fear."[791]--Her fears had gifted her with the spirit of prophecy. She implores her brother, if he will not come himself to Flanders, to convoke the states-general, quoting the words of Egmont, that, unless summoned by the king they would assemble of themselves, to devise some remedy for the miseries of the land, and prevent its otherwise inevitable ruin.[792] At length came back the royal answer to Margaret's reiterated appeals. It had at least one merit, that of being perfectly explicit.

Montigny, on reaching Madrid, as we have seen, had ready access to Philip. Both he and his companion, the marquis of Bergen, were allowed to witness, it would seem, the deliberations of the council of state, when the subject of their mission was discussed. Among the members of that body, at this time, may be noticed the duke of Alva; Ruy Gomez de Silva, prince of Eboli, who divided with Alva the royal favor; Figueroa, count of Feria, a man of an acute and penetrating intellect, formerly ambassador to England, in Queen Mary's time; and Luis de Quixada, the major-domo of Charles the fifth. Besides these there were two or three councillors from the Netherlands, among whose names we meet with that of Hopper, the near friend and associate of Viglius. There was great unanimity in the opinions of this loyal body, where none, it will be readily believed, was disposed to lift his voice in favour of reform. The course of events in the Netherlands, they agreed, plainly showed a deliberate and well-concerted scheme of the great nobles to secure to themselves the whole power of the country. The first step was the removal of Granvelle, a formidable obstacle in their path. Then came the attempt to concentrate the management of affairs in the hands of the council of state. This was followed by assaults on the Inquisition and the edicts, as the things most obnoxious to the people; by the cry in favor of the states-general; by the league, the Compromise, the petitions, the religious assemblies; and, finally, by the present mission to Spain. All was devised by the great nobles, as part of a regular system of hostility to the crown, the real object of which was to overturn existing institutions, and to build up their own authority on the ruins. While the council regarded these proceedings with the deepest indignation, they admitted the necessity of bending to the storm, and under present circumstances judged it prudent for the monarch to make certain specified concessions to the people of the Netherlands. Above all, they earnestly besought Philip, if he would still remain master of this portion of his empire, to defer no longer his visit to the country.[793]

The discussions occupied many and long-protracted sittings of the council; and Philip deeply pondered, in his own closet, on the results, after the discussions were concluded. Even those most familiar with his habits were amazed at the long delay of his decision in the present critical circumstances.[794] The haughty mind of the monarch found it difficult to bend to the required concessions. At length his answer came.

The letter containing it was addressed to his sister, and was dated on the thirty-first of July, 1566, at the Wood of Segovia,--the same place from which he had dictated his memorable despatches the year preceding. Philip began, as usual, with expressing his surprise at the continued troubles of the country. He was not aware that any rigorous procedure could be charged on the tribunals, or that any change had been made in the laws since the days of Charles the Fifth. Still, as it was much more agreeable to his nature to proceed with clemency and love than with severity,[795] he would conform as far as possible to the desires of his vassals.

He was content that the Inquisition should be abolished in the Netherlands, and in its place be substituted the inquisitorial powers vested in the bishops. As to the edicts, he was not pleased with the plan of Moderation devised by Margaret; nor did he believe that any plan would satisfy the people short of perfect toleration. Still, he would have his sister prepare another scheme, having due reference to the maintenance of the Catholic faith and his own authority. This must be submitted to him, and he would do all that he possibly could in the matter.[796] Lastly, in respect to a general pardon, as he abhorred rigor where any other course would answer the end,[797] he was content that it should be extended to whomever Margaret thought deserving of it,--always excepting those already condemned, and under a solemn pledge, moreover, that the nobles would abandon the league, and henceforth give their hearty support to the government.

Four days after the date of these despatches, on the second of August, Philip again wrote to his sister, touching the summoning of the states-general, which she had so much pressed. He had given the subject, he said, a most patient consideration, and was satisfied that she had done right in refusing to call them together. She must not consent to it. He never would consent to it.[798] He knew too well to what it must inevitably lead. Yet he would not have her report his decision in the absolute and peremptory terms in which he had given it to her, but as intended merely for the present occasion; so that the people might believe she was still looking for something of a different tenor, and cherish the hope of obtaining their object at some future day![799]

The king also wrote, that he should remit a sufficient sum to Margaret to enable her to take into her pay a body of ten thousand German foot and three thousand horse, on which she could rely in case of extremity. He further wrote letters with his own hand to the governors of the provinces and the principal cities, calling on them to support the regent in her efforts to enforce the laws and maintain order throughout the country.[800]

Such were the concessions granted by Philip, at the eleventh hour, to his subjects of the Netherlands!--concessions wrung from him by hard necessity; doled out, as it were, like the scanty charity of the miser,--too scanty and too late to serve the object for which it is intended. But slight as these concessions were, and crippled by conditions which rendered them nearly nugatory, it will hardly be believed that he was not even sincere in making them! This is proved by a revelation lately made of a curious document in the Archives of Simancas.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S CONCESSIONS.]

While the ink was scarcely dry on the despatches to Margaret, Philip summoned a notary into his presence, and before the duke of Alva and two other persons, jurists, solemnly protested that the authority he had given to the regent in respect to a general pardon was not of his own free will. "He therefore did not feel bound by it, but reserved to himself the right to punish the guilty, and especially the authors and abettors of sedition in the Low Countries."[801] We feel ourselves at once transported into the depths of the Middle Ages. This feeling will not be changed when we learn the rest of the story of this admirable piece of kingcraft.

The chair of St. Peter, at this time, was occupied by Pius the Fifth, a pope who had assumed the same name as his predecessor, and who displayed a spirit of fierce, indeed frantic intolerance, surpassing even that of Paul the Fourth. At the accession of the new pope there were three Italian scholars, inhabitants of Milan, Venice, and Tuscany, eminent for their piety, who had done great service to the cause of letters in Italy, but who were suspected of too liberal opinions in matters of faith. Pius the Fifth demanded that these scholars should all be delivered into his hands. The three states had the meanness to comply. The unfortunate men were delivered up to the Holy Office, condemned, and burned at the stake. This was one of the first acts of the new pontificate. It proclaimed to Christendom that Pius the Fifth was the uncompromising foe of heresy, the pope of the Inquisition. Every subsequent act of his reign served to confirm his claim to this distinction.

Yet, as far as the interests of Catholicism were concerned, a character like that of Pius the Fifth must be allowed to have suited the times. During the latter part of the fifteenth century and the beginning of the sixteenth, the throne had been filled by a succession of pontiffs notorious for their religious indifference, and their carelessness, too often profligacy, of life. This, as is well known, was one of the prominent causes of the Reformation. A reaction followed. It was necessary to save the Church. A race of men succeeded, of ascetic temper, remarkable for their austere virtues, but without a touch of sympathy for the joys or sorrows of their species, and wholly devoted to the great work of regenerating the fallen Church. As the influence of the former popes had opened a career to the Reformation, the influence of these latter popes tended materially to check it; and long before the close of the sixteenth century the boundary line was defined, which it has never since been allowed to pass.

Pius, as may be imagined, beheld with deep anxiety the spread of the new religion in the Low Countries. He wrote to the duchess of Parma, exhorting her to resist to the utmost, and professing his readiness to supply her, if need were, with both men and money. To Philip he also wrote, conjuring him not to falter in the good cause, and to allow no harm to the Catholic faith, but to march against his rebellious vassals at the head of his army, and wash out the stain of heresy in the blood of the heretic.[802]

The king now felt it incumbent on him to explain to the holy father his late proceedings. This he did through Requesens, his ambassador at the papal court. The minister was to inform his holiness that Philip would not have moved in this matter without his advice, had there been time for it. But perhaps it was better as it was; for the abolition of the Inquisition in the Low Countries could not take effect, after all, unless sanctioned by the pope, by whose authority it had been established. This, however, was to be said in confidence.[803] As to the edicts, Pius might be assured that his majesty would never approve of any scheme which favored the guilty by diminishing in any degree the penalties of their crimes. This also was to be considered as secret.[804] Lastly, his holiness need not be scandalized by the grant of a general pardon, since it referred only to what concerned the king personally, where he had a right to grant it. In fine, the pope might rest assured that the king would consent to nothing that could prejudice the service of God or the interests of religion. He deprecated force, as that would involve the ruin of the country. Still, he would march in person, without regard to his own peril, and employ force, though it should cost the ruin of the provinces, but he would bring his vassals to submission. For he would sooner lose a hundred lives, and every rood of empire, than reign a lord over heretics.[805]

[Sidenote: CATHEDRAL OF ANTWERP SACKED.]

Thus all the concessions of Philip, not merely his promises of grace, but those of abolishing the Inquisition and mitigating the edicts, were to go for nothing,--mere words, to amuse the people until some effectual means could be decided on. The king must be allowed, for once at least, to have spoken with candor. There are few persons who would not have shrunk from acknowledging to their own hearts that they were acting on so deliberate a system of perfidy as Philip thus confided in his correspondence with another. Indeed, he seems to have regarded the pope in the light of his confessor, to whom he was to unburden his bosom as frankly as if he had been in the confessional. The shrift was not likely to bring down a heavy penance from one who doubtless held to the orthodox maxim of "No faith to be kept with heretics."

The result of these royal concessions was what might have been expected. Crippled as they were by conditions, they were regarded in the Low Countries with distrust, not to say contempt. In fact, the point at which Philip had so slowly and painfully arrived had been long since passed in the onward march of the revolution. The men of the Netherlands now talked much more of recompense than of pardon. By a curious coincidence, the thirty-first of July, the day on which the king wrote his last despatches from Segovia, was precisely the date of those which Margaret sent to him from Brussels, giving the particulars of the recent troubles, of the meeting at St. Trond, the demand for a guaranty, and for an immediate summons of the legislature.

But the fountain of royal grace had been completely drained by the late efforts. Philip's reply at this time was prompt and to the point. As to the guaranty, he said, that was superfluous when he had granted a general pardon. For the states-general, there was no need to alter his decision now, since he was so soon to be present in the country.[806]

This visit of the king to the Low Countries, respecting which so much was said and so little was done, seems to have furnished some amusement to the wits of the court. The prince of Asturias, Don Carlos, scribbled one day on the cover of a blank book, as its title, "The Great and Admirable Voyages of King Philip;" and within, for the contents, he wrote, "From Madrid to the Pardo, from the Pardo to the Escorial, from the Escorial to Aranjuez," &c., &c.[807] This jest of the graceless son had an edge to it. We are not told how far it was relished by his royal father.

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XII. THE ICONOCLASTS

Cathedral of Antwerp sacked.--Sacrilegious Outrages.--Alarm at Brussels.--Churches granted to Reformers.--Margaret repents her Concessions.--Feeling at Madrid.--Sagacity of Orange.--His Religious Opinions.

1566.

While Philip was thus tardily coming to concessions which even then were not sincere, an important crisis had arrived in the affairs of the Netherlands. In the earlier stages of the troubles, all orders, the nobles, the commons, even the regent, had united in the desire to obtain the removal of certain abuses, especially the Inquisition and the edicts. But this movement, in which the Catholic joined with the Protestant, had far less reference to the interests of religion than to the personal rights of the individual. Under the protection thus afforded, however, the Reformation struck deep root in the soil. It nourished still more under the favor shown to it by the confederates, who, as we have seen, did not scruple to guaranty security of religions worship to some of the sectaries who demanded it.

But the element which contributed most to the success of the new religion was the public preachings. These in the Netherlands were what the Jacobin clubs were in France, or the secret societies in Germany and Italy,--an obvious means for bringing together such as were pledged to a common hostility to existing institutions, and thus affording them an opportunity for consulting on their grievances, and for concerting the best means of redress. The direct object of these meetings, it is true, was to listen to the teachings of the minister. But that functionary, far from confining himself to spiritual exercises, usually wandered to more exciting themes, as the corruptions of the Church and the condition of the land. He rarely failed to descant on the forlorn circumstances of himself and his flock, condemned thus stealthily to herd together like a band of outlaws, with ropes, as it were, about their necks, and to seek out some solitary spot in which to glorify the Lord, while their enemies, in all the pride of a dominant religion, could offer up their devotions openly and without fear, in magnificent temples. The preacher inveighed bitterly against the richly benefited clergy of the rival Church, whose lives of pampered ease too often furnished an indifferent commentary on the doctrines they inculcated. His wrath was kindled by the pompous ceremonial of the Church of Rome, so dazzling and attractive to its votaries, but which the Reformer sourly contrasted with the naked simplicity of the Protestant service. Of all abominations, however, the greatest in his eyes was the worship of images, which he compared to the idolatry that in ancient times had so often brought down the vengeance of Jehovah on the nations of Palestine; and he called on his hearers, not merely to remove idolatry from their hearts, but the idols from their sight.[808] It was not wonderful that, thus stimulated by their spiritual leaders, the people should be prepared for scenes similar to those enacted by the Reformers in France and in Scotland; or that Margaret, aware of the popular feeling, should have predicted such an outbreak. At length it came, and on a scale and with a degree of violence not surpassed either by the Huguenots or the disciples of Knox.

On the fourteenth of August, the day before the festival of the Assumption of the Virgin, a mob, some three hundred in number, armed with clubs, axes, and other implements of destruction, broke into the churches around St. Omer, in the province of Flanders, overturned the images, defaced the ornaments, and in a short time demolished whatever had any value or beauty in the buildings. Growing bolder from the impunity which attended their movements, they next proceeded to Ypres, and had the audacity to break into the cathedral, and deal with it in the same ruthless manner. Strengthened by the accession of other miscreants from the various towns, they proceeded along the banks of the Lys, and fell upon the churches of Menin, Comines, and other places on its borders. The excitement now spread over the country. Everywhere the populace was in arms. Churches, chapels, and convents were involved in indiscriminate ruin. The storm, after sweeping over Flanders, and desolating the flourishing cities of Valenciennes and Tournay, descended on Brabant. Antwerp, the great commercial capital of the country, was its first mark.[809]

[Sidenote: CATHEDRAL OF ANTWERP SACKED.]

The usual population of the town happened to be swelled at this time by an influx of strangers from the neighboring country, who had come up to celebrate the great festival of the Assumption of the Virgin. Fortunately the prince of Orange was in the place, and by his presence prevented any molestation to the procession, except what arose from the occasional groans and hisses of the more zealous spectators among the Protestants. The priests, however, on their return, had the discretion to deposit the image in the chapel, instead of the conspicuous station usually assigned to it in the cathedral, to receive there during the coming week the adoration of the faithful.

On the following day, unluckily, the prince was recalled to Brussels. In the evening some boys, who had found their way into the church, called out to the Virgin, demanding "why little Mary had gone so early to her nest, and whether she were afraid to show her face in public."[810] This was followed by one of the party mounting into the pulpit, and there mimicking the tones and gestures of the Catholic preacher. An honest waterman who was present, a zealous son of the Church, scandalized by this insult to his religion, sprang into the pulpit, and endeavored to dislodge the usurper. The lad resisted. His comrades came to his rescue; and a struggle ensued, which ended in both the parties being expelled from the building by the officers.[811] This scandalous proceeding, it may be thought, should have put the magistrates of the city on their guard, and warned them to take some measures of defence for the cathedral. But the admonition was not heeded.

On the following day a considerable number of the reformed party entered the building, and were allowed to continue there after vespers, when the rest of the congregation had withdrawn. Left in possession, their first act was to break forth into one of the Psalms of David. The sound of their own voices seemed to rouse them to fury. Before the chant had died away, they rushed forward as by a common impulse, broke open the doors of the chapel, and dragged forth the image of the Virgin. Some called on her to cry, "Vivent les Gueux!" while others tore off her embroidered robes, and rolled the dumb idol in the dust, amidst the shouts of the spectators.

This was the signal for havoc. The rioters dispersed in all directions on the work of destruction. Nothing escaped their rage. High above the great altar was an image of the Saviour, curiously carved in wood, and placed between the effigies of the two thieves crucified with him. The mob contrived to get a rope round the neck of the statue of Christ, and dragged it to the ground. They then fell upon it with hatchets and hammers, and it was soon broken into a hundred fragments. The two thieves, it was remarked, were spared, as if to preside over the work of rapine below.

Their fury now turned against the other statues, which were quickly overthrown from their pedestals. The paintings that lined the walls of the cathedral were cut into shreds. Many of these were the choicest specimens of Flemish art, even then, in its dawn, giving promise of the glorious day which was to shed a lustre over the land.

But the pride of the cathedral, and of Antwerp, was the great organ, renowned throughout the Netherlands, not more for its dimensions than its perfect workmanship. With their ladders the rioters scaled the lofty fabric, and with their implements soon converted it, like all else they laid their hands on, into a heap of rubbish.

The ruin was now universal. Nothing beautiful, nothing holy, was spared. The altars--and there were no less than seventy in the vast edifice--were overthrown one after another; their richly embroidered coverings rudely rent away; their gold and silver vessels appropriated by the plunderers. The sacramental bread was trodden under foot; the wine was quaffed by the miscreants, in golden chalices, to the health of one another, or of the Gueux; and the holy oil was profanely used to anoint their shoes and sandals. The sculptured tracery on the walls, the costly offerings that enriched the shrines, the screens of gilded bronze, the delicately carved wood-work of the pulpit, the marble and alabaster ornaments, all went down under the fierce blows of the iconoclasts. The pavement was strewed with the ruined splendors of a church, which in size and magnificence was perhaps second only to St. Peter's among the churches of Christendom.

As the light of day faded, the assailants supplied its place with such light as they could obtain from the candles which they snatched from the altars. It was midnight before the work of destruction was completed. Thus toiling in darkness, feebly dispelled by tapers the rays of which could scarcely penetrate the vaulted distances of the cathedral, it is a curious circumstance--if true--than no one was injured by the heavy masses of timber, stone, and metal that were everywhere falling around them.[812] The whole number engaged in this work is said not to have exceeded a hundred men, women, and boys,--women of the lowest description, dressed in men's attire.

When their task was completed, they sallied forth in a body from the doors of the cathedral, some singing the Psalms of David, others roaring out the fanatical war-cry of "Vivent les Gueux!" Flushed with success, and joined on the way by stragglers like themselves, they burst open the doors of one church after another; and by the time morning broke, the principal temples in the city had been dealt with in the same ruthless manner as the cathedral.[813]

No attempt all this time was made to stop these proceedings on the part of magistrates or citizens. As they beheld from their windows the bodies of armed men hurrying to and fro by the gleam of their torches, and listened to the sounds of violence in the distance, they seem to have been struck with a panic. The Catholics remained within doors, fearing a general rising of the Protestants. The Protestants feared to move abroad, lest they should be confounded with the rioters. Some imagined their own turn might come next, and appeared in arms at the entrances of their houses, prepared to defend them against the enemy.

[Sidenote: SACRILEGIOUS OUTRAGES.]

When gorged with the plunder of the city, the insurgents poured out at the gates, and fell with the same violence on the churches, convents, and other religious edifices in the suburbs. For three days these dismal scenes continued, without resistance on the part of the inhabitants. Amidst the ruin in the cathedral, the mob had alone spared the royal arms and the escutcheons of the knights of the Golden Fleece, emblazoned on the walls. Calling this to mind, they now returned into the city to complete the work. But some of the knights, who were at Antwerp, collected a handful of their followers, and, with a few of the citizens, forced their way into the cathedral, arrested ten or twelve of the rioters, and easily dispersed the remainder; while a gallows erected on an eminence admonished the offenders of the fate that awaited them. The facility with which the disorders were repressed by a few resolute men naturally suggests the inference, that many of the citizens had too much sympathy with the authors of the outrages to care to check them, still less to bring the culprits to punishment. An orthodox chronicler of the time vents his indignation against a people who were so much more ready to stand by their hearths than by their altars.[814]

The fate of Antwerp had its effect on the country. The flames of fanaticism, burning fiercer than ever, quickly spread over the northern, as they had done over the western provinces. In Holland, Utrecht, Friesland,--everywhere, in short, with a few exceptions on the southern borders,--mobs rose against the churches. In some places, as Rotterdam, Dort, Haarlem, the magistrates were wary enough to avert the storm by delivering up the images, or at least by removing them from the buildings.[815] It was rare that any attempt was made at resistance. Yet on one or two occasions this so far succeeded that a handful of troops sufficed to rout the iconoclasts. At Anchyn, four hundred of the rabble were left dead on the field. But the soldiers had no relish for their duty, and on other occasions, when called on to perform it, refused to bear arms against their countrymen.[816] The leaven of heresy was too widely spread among the people.

Thus the work of plunder and devastation went on vigorously throughout the land. Cathedral and chapel, monastery and nunnery, religious houses of every description, even hospitals, were delivered up to the tender mercies of the Reformers. The monks fled, leaving behind them treasures of manuscripts and well-stored cellars, which latter the invaders soon emptied of their contents, while they consigned the former to the flames. The terrified nuns, escaping half naked, at dead of night, from their convents, were too happy to find a retreat among their friends and kinsmen in the city.[817] Neither monk nor nun ventured to go abroad in the conventual garb. Priests might be sometimes seen hurrying away with some relic or sacred treasure under their robes, which they were eager to save from the spoilers. In the general sack not even the abode of the dead was respected; and the sepulchres of the counts of Flanders were violated, and laid open to the public gaze![818]

The deeds of violence perpetrated by the iconoclasts were accompanied by such indignities as might express their contempt for the ancient faith. They snatched the wafer, says an eye-witness, from the altar, and put it into the mouth of a parrot. Some huddled the images of the saints together, and set them on fire, or covered them with bits of armor, and, shouting "Vivent les Gueux!" tilted rudely against them. Some put on the vestments stolen from the churches, and ran about the streets with them in mockery. Some basted the books with butter, that they might burn the more briskly.[819] By the scholar, this last enormity will not be held light among their transgressions. It answered their purpose, to judge by the number of volumes that were consumed. Among the rest, the great library of Vicogne, one of the noblest collections in the Netherlands, perished in the flames kindled by these fanatics.[820]

The amount of injury inflicted during this dismal period it is not possible to estimate. Four hundred churches were sacked by the insurgents in Flanders alone.[821] The damage to the cathedral of Antwerp, including its precious contents, was said to amount to not less than four hundred thousand ducats![822] The loss occasioned by the plunder of gold and silver plate might be computed. The structures so cruelly defaced might be repaired by the skill of the architect. But who can estimate the irreparable loss occasioned by the destruction of manuscripts, statuary, and paintings? It is a melancholy fact, that the earliest efforts of the Reformers were everywhere directed against those monuments of genius which had been created and cherished by the generous patronage of Catholicism. But if the first step of the Reformation was on the ruins of art, it cannot be denied that a compensation has been found in the good which it has done by breaking the fetters of the intellect, and opening a free range in those domains of science to which all access had been hitherto denied.

The wide extent of the devastation was not more remarkable than the time in which it was accomplished. The whole work occupied less than a fortnight. It seemed as if the destroying angel had passed over the land, and at a blow had consigned its noblest edifices to ruin! The method and discipline, if I may so say, in the movements of the iconoclasts, were as extraordinary as their celerity. They would seem to have been directed by some other hands than those which met the vulgar eye. The quantity of gold and silver plate purloined from the churches and convents was immense. Though doubtless sometimes appropriated by individuals, it seems not unfrequently to have been gathered in a heap, and delivered to the minister, who, either of himself, or by direction of the consistory, caused it to be melted down, and distributed among the most needy of the sectaries.[823] We may sympathize with the indignation of a Catholic writer of the time, who exclaims, that in this way the poor churchmen were made to pay for the scourges with which they had been beaten.[824]

[Sidenote: ALARM AT BRUSSELS.]

The tidings of the outbreak fell heavily on the ears of the court of Brussels, where the regent, notwithstanding her prediction of the event, was not any the better prepared for it. She at once called her counsellors together and demanded their aid in defending the religion of the country against its enemies. But the prince of Orange and his friends discouraged a resort to violent measures, as little likely to prevail in the present temper of the people. "First," said Egmont, "let us provide for the security of the state. It will be time enough then to think of religion." "No," said Margaret, warmly; "the service of God demands our first care; for the ruin of religion would be a greater evil than the loss of the country."[825] "Those who have anything to lose in it," replied the count, somewhat coolly, "will probably be of a different opinion,"[826]--an answer that greatly displeased the duchess.

Rumors now came thick on one another of the outrages committed by the image-breakers. Fears were entertained that their next move would be on the capital itself. Hitherto the presence of the regent had preserved Brussels, notwithstanding some transient demonstrations among the people, from the spirit of reform which had convulsed the rest of the country. No public meetings had been held either in the city or the suburbs; for Margaret had declared she would hang up, not only the preacher, but all those who attended him.[827] The menace had its effect. Thus keeping aloof from the general movement of the time, the capital was looked on with an evil eye by the surrounding country; and reports were rife, that the iconoclasts were preparing to march in such force on the place, as should enable them to deal with it as they had done with Antwerp and the other cities of Brabant.

The question now arose as to the course to be pursued in the present exigency. The prince of Orange and his friends earnestly advised that Margaret should secure the aid of the confederates by the concessions they had so strenuously demanded; in the next place, that she should conciliate the Protestants by consenting to their religious meetings. To the former she made no objection. But the latter she peremptorily refused. "It would be the ruin of our holy religion," she said. It was in vain they urged, that two hundred thousand sectaries were in arms; that they were already in possession of the churches; that, if she persisted in her refusal, they would soon be in Brussels, and massacre every priest and Roman Catholic before her eyes![828] Notwithstanding this glowing picture of the horrors in store for her, Margaret remained inflexible. But her agitation was excessive: she felt herself alone in her extremity. The party of Granvelle she had long since abandoned. The party of Orange seemed now ready to abandon her. "I am pressed by enemies within and without," she wrote to Philip; "there is no one on whom I can rely for counsel or for aid."[829] Distrust and anxiety brought on a fever, and for several days and nights she lay tossing about, suffering equally from distress of body and anguish of spirit.[830]

Thus sorely perplexed, Margaret felt also the most serious apprehensions for her personal safety. With the slight means of defence at her command, Brussels seemed no longer a safe residence, and she finally came to the resolution to extricate herself from the danger and difficulties of her situation by a precipitate flight. After a brief consultation with Barlaimont, Arschot, and others of the party opposed to the prince of Orange, and hitherto little in her confidence, she determined to abandon the capital, and seek a refuge in Mons,--a strong town in Hainault, belonging to the duke of Arschot, which, from its sturdy attachment to the Romish faith, had little to fear from the fanatics.

Having completed her preparations with the greatest secrecy, on the day fixed for her flight Margaret called her council together to communicate her design. It met with the most decided opposition, not merely from the lords with whom she had hitherto acted, but from the president Viglius. They all united in endeavoring to turn her from a measure which would plainly intimate such a want of confidence on the part of the duchess as must dishonor them in the eyes of the world. The preparations for Margaret's flight had not been conducted so secretly but that some rumor of them had taken wind; and the magistrates of the city now waited on her in a body, and besought her not to leave them, defenceless as they were, to the mercy of their enemies.

The prince was heard to say, that, if the regent thus abandoned the government, it would be necessary to call the states-general together at once, to take measures for the protection of the country.[831] And Egmont declared that, if she fled to Mons, he would muster forty thousand men, and besiege Mons in person.[832] The threat was not a vain one, for no man in the country could have gathered such a force under his banner more easily than Egmont. The question seems to have been finally settled by the magistrates causing the gates of the town to be secured, and a strong guard placed over them, with orders to allow no passage either to the duchess or her followers.--Thus a prisoner in her own capital, Margaret conformed to necessity, and, with the best grace she could, consented to relinquish her scheme of departure.[833]

[Sidenote: CHURCHES GRANTED TO REFORMERS.]

The question now recurred as to the course to be pursued; and the more she pondered on the embarrassments of her position, the more she became satisfied that no means of extricating herself remained but that proposed by the nobles. Yet, in thus yielding to necessity, she did so protesting that she was acting under compulsion.[834] On the twenty-third of August, Margaret executed an instrument, by which she engaged that no harm should come to the members of the league for anything hitherto done by them. She further authorized the lords to announce to the confederates her consent to the religious meetings of the Reformed, in places where they had been hitherto held, until his majesty and the states-general should otherwise determine. It was on the condition, however, that they should go there unarmed, and nowhere offer disturbance to the Catholics.

On the twenty-fifth of the month the confederate nobles signed an agreement on their part and solemnly swore that they would aid the regent to the utmost in suppressing the disorders of the country, and in bringing their authors to justice; agreeing, moreover, that, so long as the regent should be true to the compact, the league should be considered as null and void.[835]

The feelings of Margaret, in making the concessions required of her, may be gathered from the perusal of her private correspondence with her brother. No act in her public life ever caused her so deep a mortification; and she never forgave the authors of it. "It was forced upon me," she writes to Philip; "but, happily, you will not be bound by it." And she beseeches him to come at once, in such strength as would enable him to conquer the country for himself, or to give her the means of doing so.[836]--Margaret, in early life, had been placed in the hands of Ignatius Loyola. More than one passage in her history proves that the lessons of the Jesuit had not been thrown away.

During these discussions the panic had been such, that it was thought advisable to strengthen the garrison under command of Count Mansfeldt, and keep the greater part of the citizens under arms day and night. When this arrangement was concluded, the great lords dispersed on their mission to restore order in their several governments. The prince went first to Antwerp, where, as we have seen, he held the office of burgrave. He made strict investigation into the causes of the late tumult, hung three of the ringleaders, and banished three others. He found it, however, no easy matter to come to terms with the sectaries, who had possession of all the churches, from which they had driven the Catholics. After long negotiation, it was arranged that they should be allowed to hold six, and should resign the rest to the ancient possessors. The arrangement gave general satisfaction, and the principal citizens and merchants congratulated William on having rescued them from the evils of anarchy.

Not so the regent. She knew well that the example of Antwerp would become a precedent for the rest of the country. She denounced the compact, as compromising the interests of Catholicism, and openly accused the prince of having transcended his powers, and betrayed the trust reposed in him. Finally, she wrote, commanding him at once to revoke his concessions.

William, in answer, explained to her the grounds on which they had been made, and their absolute necessity, in order to save the city from anarchy. It is a strong argument in his favor, that the Protestants, who already claimed the prince as one of their own sect, accused him, in this instance, of sacrificing their cause to that of their enemies; and caricatures of him were made, representing him with open hands and a double face.[837] William, while thus explaining his conduct, did not conceal his indignation at the charges brought against him by the regent, and renewed his request for leave to resign his offices, since he no longer enjoyed her confidence. But whatever disgust she may have felt at his present conduct, William's services were too important to Margaret in this crisis to allow her to dispense with them; and she made haste to write to him in a conciliatory tone, explaining away as far as possible what had been offensive in her former letters. Yet from this hour the consciousness of mutual distrust raised a barrier between the parties never to be overcome.[838]

William next proceeded to his governments of Utrecht and Holland, which, by a similar course of measures to that pursued at Antwerp, he soon restored to order. While in Utrecht, he presented to the states of the province a memorial, in which he briefly reviewed the condition of the country. He urged the necessity of religious toleration, as demanded by the spirit of the age, and as particularly necessary in a country like that, the resort of so many foreigners, and inhabited by sects of such various denominations. He concluded by recommending them to lay a petition to that effect before the throne,--not, probably, from any belief that such a petition would be heeded by the monarch, but from the effect it would have in strengthening the principles of religious freedom in his countrymen. William's memorial is altogether a remarkable paper for the time, and in the wise and liberal tenor of its arguments strikingly contrasts with the intolerant spirit of the court of Madrid.[839]

The regent proved correct in her prediction that the example of Antwerp would be made a precedent for the country. William's friends, the Counts Hoorne and Hoogstraten, employed the same means for conciliating the sectaries in their own governments. It was otherwise with Egmont. He was too stanch a Catholic at heart to approve of such concessions. He carried matters, therefore, with a high hand in his provinces of Flanders and Artois, where his personal authority was unbounded. He made a severe scrutiny into the causes of the late tumult, and dealt with its authors so sternly, as to provoke a general complaint among the reformed party, some of whom, indeed, became so far alarmed for their own safety, that they left the provinces and went beyond sea.

Order now seemed to be reëstablished in the land, through the efforts of the nobles, aided by the confederates, who seem to have faithfully executed their part of the compact with the regent. The Protestants took possession of the churches assigned to them, or busied themselves with raising others on the ground before reserved for their meetings. All joined in the good work; the men laboring at the building, the women giving their jewels and ornaments to defray the cost of the materials. A calm succeeded,--a temporary lull after the hurricane; and Lutheran and Calvinist again indulged in the pleasing illusion, that, however distasteful it might be to the government, they were at length secure of the blessings of religious toleration.

During the occurrence of these events a great change had taken place in the relations of parties. The Catholic members of the league, who had proposed nothing beyond the reform of certain glaring abuses, and, least of all, anything prejudicial to their own religion, were startled as they saw the inevitable result of the course they were pursuing. Several of them, as we have seen, had left the league before the outbreak of the iconoclasts; and after that event, but very few remained in it. The confederates, on the other hand, lost ground with the people, who looked with distrust on their late arrangement with the regent, in which they had so well provided for their own security. The confidence of the people was not restored by the ready aid which their old allies seemed willing to afford the great nobles in bringing to justice the authors of the recent disorders.[840] Thus deserted by many of its own members, distrusted by the Reformers, and detested by the regent, the league ceased from that period to exert any considerable influence on the affairs of the country.

[Sidenote: MARGARET REPENTS HER CONCESSIONS.]

A change equally important had taken place in the politics of the court. The main object with Margaret, from the first, had been to secure the public tranquillity. To effect this she had more than once so far deferred to the judgment of William and his friends, as to pursue a policy not the most welcome to herself. But it had never been her thought to extend that policy to the point of religious toleration. So far from it, she declared that, even though the king should admit two religions in the state, she would rather be torn in pieces than consent to it.[841] It was not till the coalition of the nobles, that her eyes were opened to the path she was treading. The subsequent outrages of the iconoclasts made her comprehend she was on the verge of a precipice. The concessions wrung from her, at that time, by Orange and his friends, filled up the measure of her indignation. A great gulf now opened between her and the party by whom she had been so long directed. Yet where could she turn for support? One course only remained; and it was with a bitter feeling that she felt constrained to throw herself into the arms of the very party which she had almost estranged from her counsels. In her extremity she sent for the president Viglius, on whose head she had poured out so many anathemas in her correspondence with Philip,--whom she had not hesitated to charge with the grossest peculation.

Margaret sent for the old councillor, and, with tears in her eyes, demanded his advice in the present exigency. The president naturally expressed his surprise at this mark of confidence from one who had so carefully excluded him from her counsels for the last two years. Margaret, after some acknowledgment of her mistake, intimated a hope that this would be no impediment to his giving her the counsel she now so much needed. Viglius answered by inquiring whether she were prepared faithfully to carry out what she knew to be the will of the king. On Margaret's replying in the affirmative, he recommended that she should put the same question to each member of her cabinet. "Their answers," said the old statesman, "will show you whom you are to trust." The question--the touchstone of loyalty--was accordingly put; and the minister, who relates the anecdote himself, tells us that three only, Mansfeldt, Barlaimont, and Arschot, were prepared to stand by the regent in carrying out the policy of the crown. From that hour the regent's confidence was transferred from the party with which she had hitherto acted, to their rivals.[842]

It is amusing to trace the change of Margaret's sentiments in her correspondence of this period with her brother. "Orange and Hoorne prove themselves, by word and by deed, enemies of God and the king."[843] Of Egmont she speaks no better. "With all his protestations of loyalty," she fears he is only plotting mischief to the state. "He has openly joined the Gueux, and his eldest daughter is reported to be a Huguenot."[844] Her great concern is for the safety of Viglius, "almost paralyzed by his fears, as the people actually threaten to tear him in pieces."[845] The factious lords conduct affairs according to their own pleasure in the council; and it is understood they are negotiating at the present moment to bring about a collision between the Protestants of Germany, France, and England, hoping in the end to drive the house of Austria from the throne, to shake off the yoke of Spain from the Netherlands, and divide the provinces among themselves and their friends![846] Margaret's credulity seems to have been in proportion to her hatred, and her hatred in proportion to her former friendship. So it was in her quarrel with Granvelle, and she now dealt the same measure to the men who had succeeded that minister in her confidence.

The prince of Orange cared little for the regent's estrangement. He had long felt that his own path lay wide asunder from that of the government, and, as we have seen, had more than once asked leave to resign his offices, and withdraw into private life. Hoorne viewed the matter with equal indifference. He had also asked leave to retire, complaining that his services had been poorly requited by the government. He was a man of a bold, impatient temper. In a letter to Philip he told him that it was not the regent, but his majesty, of whom he complained, for compelling him to undergo the annoyance of dancing attendance at the court of Brussels![847] He further added, that he had not discussed his conduct with the duchess, as it was not his way to treat of affairs of honor with ladies![848] There was certainly no want of plain-dealing in this communication with majesty.

Count Egmont took the coolness of the regent in a very different manner. It touched his honor, perhaps his vanity, to be thus excluded from her confidence. He felt it the more keenly as he was so loyal at heart, and strongly attached to the Romish faith. On the other hand, his generous nature was deeply sensible to the wrongs of his countrymen. Thus drawn in opposite directions, he took the middle course,--by no means the safest in politics. Under these opposite influences he remained in a state of dangerous irresolution. His sympathy with the cause of the confederates lost him the confidence of the government. His loyalty to the government excluded him from the councils of the confederates. And thus, though perhaps the most popular man in the Netherlands, there was no one who possessed less real influence in public affairs.[849]

[Sidenote: THE FEELING AT MADRID.]

The tidings of the tumults in the Netherlands, which travelled with the usual expedition of evil news, caused as great consternation at the court of Castile as it had done at that of Brussels. Philip, on receiving his despatches, burst forth, it is said, into the most violent fit of anger, and, tearing his beard, he exclaimed, "It shall cost them dear; by the soul of my father I swear it, it shall cost them dear!"[850] The anecdote, often repeated, rests on the authority of Granvelle's correspondent, Morillon. If it be true, it affords a solitary exception to the habitual self-command--displayed in circumstances quite as trying--of the "prudent" monarch. The account given by Hopper, who was with the court at the time, is the more probable of the two. According to that minister, the king, when he received the tidings, lay ill of a tertian fever at Segovia. As letter after letter came to him with particulars of the tumult, he maintained his usual serenity, exhibiting no sign of passion or vexation. Though enfeebled by his malady, he allowed himself no repose, but gave unremitting attention to business.[851] He read all the despatches; made careful notes of their contents, sending such information as he deemed best to his council, for their consideration; and, as his health mended, occasionally attended in person the discussions of that body.

One can feel but little doubt as to the light in which the proceedings in the Netherlands were regarded by the royal council of Castile. Yet it did not throw the whole, or even the chief blame, on the iconoclasts. They were regarded as mere tools in the hands of the sectaries. The sectaries, on their part, were, it was said, moved by the confederates, on whom they leaned for protection. The confederates, in their turn, made common cause with the great lords, to whom many of them were bound by the closest ties of friendship and of blood. By this ingenious chain of reasoning, all were made responsible for the acts of violence; but the chief responsibility lay on the heads of the great nobles, on whom all in the last resort depended. It was against them that the public indignation should be directed, not against the meaner offenders, over whom alone the sword of justice had been hitherto suspended. But the king should dissemble his sentiments until he was in condition to call these great vassals to account for their misdeeds. All joined in beseeching Philip to defer no longer his visit to Flanders; and most of them recommended that he should go in such force as to look down opposition, and crush the rebellion in its birth.

Such was the counsel of Alva, in conformity with that which he had always given on the subject. But although all concurred in urging the king to expedite his departure, some of the councillors followed the prince of Eboli in advising Philip that, instead of this warlike panoply, he should go in peaceable guise, accompanied only by such a retinue as befitted the royal dignity. Each of the great rivals recommended the measures most congenial with his own temper, the direction of which would no doubt be intrusted to the man who recommended them. It is not strange that the more violent course should have found favor with the majority.[852]

Philip's own decision he kept, as usual, locked in his own bosom. He wrote indeed to his sister, warning her not to allow the meeting of the legislature, and announcing his speedy coming,--all as usual; and he added, that, in repressing the disorders of the country, he should use no other means than those of gentleness and kindness, under the sanction of the states.[853] These gentle professions weighed little with those who, like the prince of Orange, had surer means of arriving at the king's intent than what were afforded by the royal correspondence. Montigny, the Flemish envoy, was still in Madrid, held there, sorely against his will, in a sort of honorable captivity by Philip. In a letter to his brother, Count Hoorne, he wrote: "Nothing can be in worse odor than our affairs at the court of Castile. The great lords, in particular, are considered as the source of all the mischief. Violent counsels are altogether in the ascendant, and the storm may burst on you sooner than you think. Nothing remains but to fly from it like a prudent man, or to face it like a brave one!"[854]

William had other sources of intelligence, the secret agents whom he kept in pay at Madrid. From them he learned, not only what was passing at the court, but in the very cabinet of the monarch; and extracts, sometimes full copies, of the correspondence of Philip and Margaret, were transmitted to the prince. Thus the secrets which the most jealous prince in Europe supposed to be locked in his own breast were often in possession of his enemies; and William, as we are told, declared that there was no word of Philip's, public or private, but was reported to his ears![855]

[Sidenote: THE FEELING AT MADRID.]

This secret intelligence, on which the prince expended large sums of money, was not confined to Madrid. He maintained a similar system of espionage in Paris, where the court of Castile was busy with its intrigues for the extermination of heresy. Those who look on these trickish proceedings as unworthy of the character of the prince of Orange and the position which he held, should consider that it was in accordance with the spirit of the age. It was but turning Philip's own arts against himself, and using the only means by which William could hope to penetrate the dark and unscrupulous policy of a cabinet whose chief aim, as he thought, was to subvert the liberties of his country.

It was at this time that his agents in France intercepted a letter from Alava, the Spanish minister at the French court. It was addressed to the duchess of Parma. Among other things, the writer says it is well understood at Madrid, that the great nobles are at the bottom of the troubles of Flanders. The king is levying a strong force, with which he will soon visit the country, and call the three lords to a heavy reckoning. In the mean time the duchess must be on her guard not by any change in her deportment to betray her consciousness of this intent.[856]

Thus admonished from various quarters, the prince felt that it was no longer safe for him to remain in his present position; and that in the words of Montigny, he must be prepared to fight or to fly. He resolved to take counsel with some of those friends who were similarly situated with himself. In a communication made to Egmont in order to persuade him to a conference, William speaks of Philip's military preparations as equally to be dreaded by Catholic and Protestant; for under the pretext of religion, Philip had no other object in view than to enslave the nation. "This has been always feared by us," he adds;[857] "and I cannot stay to witness the ruin of my country."

The parties met at Dendermonde on the third of October. Besides the two friends and Count Hoorne, there were William's brother, Louis, and a few other persons of consideration. Little is actually known of the proceedings at this conference, notwithstanding the efforts of more than one officious chronicler to enlighten us. Their contradictory accounts, like so many cross lights on his path, serve only to perplex the eye of the student. It seems probable, however, that the nobles generally, including the prince, considered the time had arrived for active measures; and that any armed intrusion on the part of Philip into the Netherlands should be resisted by force. But Egmont, with all his causes of discontent, was too loyal at heart not to shrink from the attitude of rebellion. He had a larger stake than most of the company, in a numerous family of children, who, in case of a disastrous revolution, would be thrown helpless on the world. The benignity with which he had been received by Philip on his mission to Spain, and which subsequent slights had not effaced from his memory, made him confide, most unhappily, in the favorable dispositions of the monarch. From whatever motives, the count refused to become a party to any scheme of resistance; and as his popularity with the troops made his coöperation of the last importance, the conference broke up without coming to a determination.[858]

Egmont at once repaired to Brussels, whither he had been summoned by the regent to attend the council of state. Orange and Hoorne received, each, a similar summons, to which neither of them paid any regard. Before taking his seat at the board, Egmont showed the duchess Alava's letter, upbraiding her, at the same time, with her perfidious conduct towards the nobles. Margaret, who seems to have given way to temper or to tears, as the exigency demanded, broke forth into a rage, declaring it "an impudent forgery, and the greatest piece of villany in the world!"[859] The same sentiment she repeats in a letter addressed soon after to her brother, in which she asserts her belief that no such letter as that imputed to Alava had ever been written by him. How far the duchess was honest in her declaration it is impossible at this day to determine. Egmont, after passing to other matters, concludes with a remark which shows, plainly enough, his own opinion of her sincerity. "In fine, she is a woman educated in Rome. There is no faith to be given to her."[860]

In her communication above noticed Margaret took occasion to complain to Philip of his carelessness in regard to her letters. The contents of them, she said, were known in Flanders almost as soon as at Madrid; and not only copies, but the original autographs, were circulating in Brussels. She concludes by begging her brother, if he cannot keep her letters safe, to burn them.[861]

The king, in answer, expresses his surprise at her complaints, assuring Margaret that it is impossible any one can have seen her letters, which are safely locked up, with the key in his own pocket.[862] It is amusing to see Philip's incredulity in regard to the practice of those arts on himself which he had so often practised on others. His sister, however, seems to have relied henceforth more on her own precautions than on his, as we find her communications from this time frequently shrouded in cipher.

Rumors of Philip's warlike preparations were now rife in the Netherlands; and the Protestants began to take counsel as to the best means of providing for their own defence. One plan suggested was to send thirty thousand Calvinistic tracts to Seville for distribution among the Spaniards.[863] This would raise a good crop of heresy, and give the king work to do in his own dominions. It would, in short, be carrying the war into the enemy's country. The plan, it must be owned, had the merit of novelty.

[Sidenote: WILLIAM'S RELIGIOUS OPINIONS.]

In Holland the nobles and merchants mutually bound themselves to stand by one another in asserting the right of freedom of conscience.[864] Levies went forward briskly in Germany, under the direction of Count Louis of Nassau. It was attempted, moreover, to interest the Protestant princes of that country so far in the fate of their brethren in the Netherlands as to induce them to use their good offices with Philip to dissuade him from violent measures. The emperor had already offered privately his own mediation to the king, to bring about, if possible, a better understanding with his Flemish subjects.[865] The offer made in so friendly a spirit, though warmly commended by some of the council, seems to have found no favor in the eyes of their master.[866]

The princes of Germany who had embraced the Reformation were Lutherans. They had almost as little sympathy with the Calvinists as with the Catholics. Men of liberal minds in the Netherlands, like William and his brother, would gladly have seen the two great Protestant parties which divided their country united on some common basis. They would have had them, in short, in a true Christian spirit, seek out the points on which they could agree rather than those on which they differed,--points of difference which, in William's estimation, were after all of minor importance. He was desirous that the Calvinists should adopt a confession of faith accommodated in some degree to the "Confession of Augsburg,"--a step which would greatly promote their interests with the princes of Germany.[867]

But the Calvinists were altogether the dominant party in the Low Countries. They were thoroughly organized, and held their consistories, composed of a senate and a sort of lower house, in many of the great towns, all subordinate to the great consistory at Antwerp. They formed, in short, what the historian well calls an independent Protestant republic.[868] Strong in their power, sturdy in their principles, they refused to bend in any degree to circumstances, or to make any concession, or any compromise with the weaker party. The German princes, disgusted with this conduct, showed no disposition to take any active measures in their behalf, and, although they made some efforts in favor of the Lutherans, left their Calvinistic brethren in the Netherlands to their fate.

It was generally understood, at this time, that the prince of Orange had embraced Lutheran opinions. His wife's uncle, the landgrave of Hesse, pressed him publicly to avow his belief. To this the prince objected, that he should thus become the open enemy of the Catholics, and probably lose his influence with the Calvinists, already too well disposed to acts of violence.[869] Yet not long after we find William inquiring of the landgrave if it would not be well to advise the king, in terms as little offensive as possible, of his change of religion, asking the royal permission at the same time, to conform his worship to it.[870]

William's father had been a Lutheran, and in that faith had lived and died. In that faith he had educated his son. When only eleven years old, the latter, as we have seen, was received into the imperial household. The plastic mind of boyhood readily took its impressions from those around, and without much difficulty, or indeed examination, William conformed to the creed fashionable at the court of Castile. In this faith--if so it should be called--the prince remained during the lifetime of the emperor. Then came the troubles of the Netherlands; and William's mind yielded to other influences. He saw the workings of Catholicism under a terrible aspect. He beheld his countrymen dragged from their firesides, driven into exile, thrown into dungeons, burned at the stake; and all this for no other cause than dissent from the dogmas of the Romish Church. His soul sickened at these enormities, and his indignation kindled at this invasion of the inalienable right of private judgment. Thus deeply interested for the oppressed Protestants, it was natural that William should feel a sympathy for their cause. His wife too was of the Lutheran persuasion. So was his mother, still surviving. So were his brothers and sisters, and indeed all those nearest akin to him. Under these influences, public and domestic, it was not strange, that he should have been led to review the grounds of his own belief; that he should have gradually turned to the faith of his parents,--the faith in which he had been nurtured in childhood.[871] At what precise period the change in his opinions took place we are not informed. But his letter to the landgrave of Hesse, in November, 1566, affords, so far as I am aware, the earliest evidence that exists, under his own hand, that he had embraced the doctrines of the Reformation.

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XIII. THE REGENT'S AUTHORITY REËSTABLISHED

Reaction.--Appeal to Arms.--Tumult in Antwerp.--Siege of Valenciennes.--The Government triumphant.

1566, 1567.

The excesses of the iconoclasts, like most excesses, recoiled on the heads of those who committed them. The Roman Catholic members of the league withdrew, as we have seen, from an association which connected them, however remotely, with deeds so atrocious. Other Catholics, who had looked with no unfriendly eye on the revolution, now that they saw it was to go forward over the ruins of their religion, were only eager to show their detestation of it, and their loyalty to the government. The Lutherans, who, as already noticed, had never moved in much harmony with the Calvinists, were anxious to throw the whole blame of the excesses on the rival sect; and thus the breach, growing wider and wider between the two great divisions of the Protestants, worked infinite prejudice to the common cause of reform. Lastly, men like Egmont, who from patriotic motives had been led to dally with the revolution in its infancy, seeming indeed almost ready to embrace it, now turned coldly away, and hastened to make their peace with the regent.

[Sidenote: REACTION.]

Margaret felt the accession of strength she was daily deriving from these divisions of her enemies, and she was not slow to profit by it. As she had no longer confidence in those on whom she had hitherto relied for support, she was now obliged to rely more exclusively on herself. She was indefatigable in her application to business. "I know not," writes her secretary, Armenteros, "how the regent contrives to live, amidst the disgusts and difficulties which incessantly beset her. For some months she has risen before dawn. Every morning and evening, sometimes oftener, she calls her council together. The rest of the day and night she is occupied with giving audiences, or with receiving despatches and letters, or in answering them."[872]

Margaret now bent all her efforts to retrace the humiliating path into which she had been led, and to reëstablish the fallen authority of the crown. If she did not actually revoke the concessions wrung from her, she was careful to define them so narrowly that they should be of little service to any one. She wrote to the governors of the provinces, that her license for public preaching was to be taken literally, and was by no means intended to cover the performance of other religious rites, as those of baptism, marriage, and burial, which she understood were freely practised by the reformed ministers. She published an edict reciting the terrible penalties of the law against all offenders in this way, and she enjoined the authorities to enforce the execution of it to the letter.[873]

The Protestants loudly complained of what they termed a most perfidious policy on the part of the regent. The right of public preaching, they said, naturally included that of performing the other religious ceremonies of the Reformed Church. It was a cruel mockery to allow men to profess a religion, and yet not to practise the rites which belong to it.--The construction given by Margaret to her edict must be admitted to savor somewhat of the spirit of that given by Portia to Shylock's contract. The pound of flesh might indeed be taken; but if so much as a drop of blood followed, woe to him that took it!

This measure was succeeded by others on the part of the government of a still more decisive character. Instead of the civil magistracy, Margaret now showed her purpose to call in the aid of a strong military force to execute the laws. She ordered into the country the levies lately raised for her in Germany. These she augmented by a number of Walloon regiments; and she placed them under the command of Aremberg, Megen, and other leaders in whom she confided. She did not even omit the prince of Orange, for though Margaret had but little confidence in William, she did not care to break with him. To the provincial governors she wrote to strengthen themselves as much as possible by additional recruits; and she ordered them to introduce garrisons into such places as had shown favor to the new doctrines.

The province of Hainault was that which gave the greatest uneasiness to the regent. The spirit of independence was proverbially high amongst the people; and the neighborhood of France gave easy access to the Huguenot ministers, who reaped an abundant harvest in the great towns of that district. The flourishing commercial city of Valenciennes was particularly tainted with heresy. Margaret ordered Philip de Noircarmes, governor of Hainault, to secure the obedience of the place by throwing into it a garrison of three companies of horse and as many of foot.

When the regent's will was announced to the people of Valenciennes, it met at first with no opposition. But among the ministers in the town was a Frenchman named La Grange, a bold enthusiast, gifted with a stirring eloquence, which gave him immense ascendancy over the masses. This man told the people, that to receive a garrison would be the death-blow to their liberties, and that those of the reformed religion would be the first victims. Thus warned, the citizens were now even more unanimous in refusing a garrison than they had before been in their consent to admit one. Noircarmes, though much surprised by this sudden change, gave the inhabitants some days to consider the matter before placing themselves in open resistance to the government. The magistrates and some of the principal persons in the town were willing to obey his requisition, and besought La Grange to prevail on the people to consent to it. "I would rather," replied the high-spirited preacher, "that my tongue should cleave to the roof of my mouth, and that I should become dumb as a fish, than open my lips to persuade the people to consent to so cruel and outrageous an act."[874] Finding the inhabitants still obstinate, the general, by Margaret's orders, proclaimed the city to be in a state of rebellion,--proscribed the persons of the citizens as traitors to their sovereign, and confiscated their property. At the same time, active preparations were begun for laying siege to the place, and proclamation was made in the regent's name prohibiting the people of the Netherlands from affording any aid, by counsel, arms, or money, to the rebellious city, under the penalties incurred by treason.

But the inhabitants of Valenciennes, sustained by the promises of their preacher, were nothing daunted by these measures, nor by the formidable show of troops which Noircarmes was assembling under their walls. Their town was strongly situated, tolerably well victualled for a siege, and filled with a population of hardy burghers devoted to the cause, whose spirits were raised by the exhortations of the consistories in the neighboring provinces to be of good courage, as their brethren would speedily come to their relief.

The high-handed measures of the government caused great consternation through the country, especially amongst those of the reformed religion. A brisk correspondence went on between the members of the league and the consistories. Large sums were raised by the merchants well affected to the cause, in order to levy troops in Germany, and were intrusted to Brederode for the purpose. It was also determined that a last effort should be made to soften the duchess by means of a petition, which that chief, at the head of four hundred knights, was to bear to Brussels. But Margaret had had enough of petitions, and she bluntly informed Brederode, that, if he came in that guise, he would find the gates of Brussels shut against him.

Still the sturdy cavalier was not to be balked in his purpose; and, by means of an agent, he caused the petition to be laid before the regent. It was taken up mainly with a remonstrance on the course pursued by Margaret, so much at variance with her promises. It particularly enlarged on the limitation of her license for public preaching. In conclusion, it besought the regent to revoke her edict, to disband her forces, to raise the siege of Valenciennes, and to respect the agreement she had made with the league; in which case they were ready to assure her of their support in maintaining order.

[Sidenote: APPEAL TO ARMS.]

Margaret laid the document before her council, and on the sixteenth of February, 1567, an answer which might be rather said to be addressed to the country at large than to Brederode, was published. The duchess intimated her surprise that any mention should be made of the league, as she had supposed that body had ceased to exist, since so many of its members had been but too glad, after the late outrages, to make their peace with the government. As to her concession of public preaching, it could hardly be contended that that was designed to authorize the sectaries to lay taxes, levy troops, create magistrates, and to perform, among other religious rites, that of marriage, involving the transfer of large amounts of property. She could hardly be thought mad enough to invest them with powers like these. She admonished the petitioners not to compel their sovereign to forego his native benignity of disposition. It would be well for them, she hinted, to give less heed to public affairs, and more to their own; and she concluded with the assurance, that she would take good care that the ruin which they so confidently predicted for the country should not be brought about by them.[875]

The haughty tone of the reply showed too plainly that the times were changed; that Margaret was now conscious of her strength, and meant to use it. The confederates felt that the hour had come for action. To retrace their steps was impossible. Yet their present position was full of peril. The rumor went that King Philip was soon to come, at the head of a powerful force, to take vengeance on his enemies. To remain as they were, without resistance, would be to offer their necks to the stroke of the executioner. An appeal to arms was all that was left to them. This was accordingly resolved on. The standard of revolt was raised. The drum beat to arms in the towns and villages, and recruits were everywhere enlisted. Count Louis was busy in enforcing levies in Germany. Brederode's town of Viana was named as the place of rendezvous. That chief was now in his element. His restless spirit delighted in scenes of tumult. He had busied himself in strengthening the works of Viana, and in furnishing it with artillery and military stores. Thence he had secretly passed over to Amsterdam, where he was occupied in organizing resistance among the people, already, by their fondness for the new doctrines, well disposed to it.

Hostilities first broke out in Brabant, where Count Megen was foiled in an attempt on Bois-le-Duc, which had refused to receive a garrison. He was more fortunate in an expedition against the refractory city of Utrecht, which surrendered without a struggle to the royalist chief.

In other quarters the insurgents were not idle. A body of some two thousand men, under Marnix, lord of Thoulouse, brother of the famous St. Aldegonde, made a descent on the island of Walcheren, where it was supposed Philip would land. But they were baffled in their attempts on this place by the loyalty and valor of the inhabitants. Failing in this scheme, Thoulouse was compelled to sail up the Scheldt, until he reached the little village of Austruweel, about a league from Antwerp. There he disembarked his whole force, and took up his quarters in the dwellings of the inhabitants. From this place he sallied out, making depredations on the adjoining country, burning the churches, sacking the convents, and causing great alarm to the magistrates of Antwerp by the confidence which his presence gave to the reformed party in that city.

Margaret saw the necessity of dislodging the enemy without delay from this dangerous position. She despatched a body of Walloons on the service, under command of an experienced officer named Launoy. Her orders show the mood she was in. "They are miscreants," she said, "who have placed themselves beyond the pale of mercy. Show them no mercy then, but exterminate with fire and sword!"[876] Launoy, by a rapid march, arrived at Austruweel. Though taken unawares, Thoulouse and his men made a gallant resistance; and a fierce action took place almost under the walls of Antwerp.

The noise of the musketry soon brought the citizens to the ramparts; and the dismay of the Calvinists was great, as they beheld the little army of Thoulouse thus closely beset by their enemies. Furious at the spectacle, they now called on one another to rush to the rescue of their friends. Pouring down from the ramparts, they hurried to the gates of the city. But the gates were locked. This had been done by the order of the prince of Orange, who had moreover caused a bridge across the Scheldt to be broken down to cut off all communication between the city and the camp of Thoulouse.

The people now loudly called on the authorities to deliver up the keys, demanding for what purpose the gates were closed. Their passions were kindled to madness by the sight of the wife--now, alas! the widow--of Thoulouse, who, with streaming eyes and dishevelled hair, rushing wildly into the crowd, besought them piteously to save her husband and their own brethren from massacre.

It was too late. After a short though stout resistance, the insurgents had been driven from the field, and taken refuge in their defences. These were soon set on fire. Thoulouse, with many of his followers, perished in the flames. Others, to avoid this dreadful fate, cut their way through the enemy, and plunged into the Scheldt, which washes the base of the high land occupied by the village. There they miserably perished in the waters, or were pierced by the lances of the enemy, who hovered on its borders. Fifteen hundred were slain. Three hundred, who survived, surrendered themselves prisoners. But Launoy feared an attempt at rescue from the neighboring city; and, true to the orders of the regent, he massacred nearly all of them on the spot![877]

While this dismal tragedy was passing, the mob imprisoned within the walls of Antwerp was raging and bellowing like the waves of the ocean chafing wildly against the rocks that confine them. With fierce cries, they demanded that the gates should be opened, calling on the magistrates with bitter imprecations to deliver up the keys. The magistrates had no mind to face the infuriated populace. But the prince of Orange fortunately, at this crisis, did not hesitate to throw himself into the midst of the tumult, and take on himself the whole responsibility of the affair. It was by his command that the gates had been closed, in order that the regent's troops, if victorious, might not enter the city, and massacre those of the reformed religion. This plausible explanation did not satisfy the people. Some called out that the true motive was, not to save the Calvinists in the city, but to prevent their assisting their brethren in the camp. One man, more audacious than the rest, raised a musket to the prince's breast, saluting him, at the same time, with the epithet of "traitor!" But the fellow received no support from his companions, who, in general, entertained too great respect for William to offer any violence to his person.

[Sidenote: TUMULT IN ANTWERP.]

Unable to appease the tumult, the prince was borne along by the tide, which now rolled back from the gates to the Meer Bridge, where it soon received such accessions that the number amounted to more than ten thousand. The wildest schemes were then agitated by the populace, among whom no one appeared to take the lead. Some were for seizing the Hôtel de Ville, and turning out the magistrates. Others were for sacking the convents, and driving their inmates, as well as all priests, from the city. Meanwhile, they had got possession of some pieces of artillery from the arsenal, with which they fortified the bridge. Thus passed the long night;--the armed multitude gathered together like a dark cloud, ready at any moment to burst in fury on the city, while the defenceless burghers, especially those who had any property at stake, were filled with the most dismal apprehensions.

Yet the Catholics contrived to convey some casks of powder, it is said, under the Meer Bridge, resolving to blow it into the air with all upon it, as soon as their enemies should make a hostile movement.

All eyes were now turned on the prince of Orange as the only man at all capable of extricating them from their perilous situation. William had stationed a guard over the mint, and another at the Hôtel de Ville, to protect these buildings from the populace. A great part of this anxious night he spent in endeavoring to bring about such an understanding between the two great parties of the Catholics and the Lutherans as should enable them to act in concert. This was the less difficult, on account of the jealousy which the latter sect entertained of the Calvinists. The force thus raised was swelled by the accession of the principal merchants and men of substance, as well as most of the foreigners resident in the city, who had less concern for spiritual matters than for the security of life and fortune. The following morning beheld the mob of Calvinists formed into something like a military array, their green and white banners bravely unfurled, and the cannon which they had taken from the arsenal posted in front. On the opposite side of the great square before the Hôtel de Ville were gathered the forces of the prince of Orange, which, if wanting artillery, were considerably superior in numbers to their adversaries. The two hosts now stood face to face, as if waiting only the signal to join in mortal conflict. But no man was found bold enough to give the signal--for brother to lift his hand against brother.

At this juncture William, with a small guard, and accompanied by the principal magistrates, crossed over to the enemy's ranks, and demanded an interview with the leaders. He represented to them the madness of their present course; which, even if they were victorious, must work infinite mischief to the cause. It would be easy for them to obtain by fair means all they could propose by violence; and for his own part, he concluded, however well disposed to them he now might be, if a single drop of blood were shed in this quarrel, he would hold them from that hour as enemies.

The remonstrance of the prince, aided by the conviction of their own inferiority in numbers, prevailed over the stubborn temper of the Calvinists. They agreed to an accommodation, one of the articles of which was, that no garrison should be admitted within the city. The prince of Orange subscribed and swore to the treaty, on behalf of his party: and it is proof of the confidence that even the Calvinists reposed in him, that they laid down their arms sooner than either the Lutherans or the Catholics. Both these, however, speedily followed their example. The martial array, which had assumed so menacing an aspect, soon melted away. The soldier of an hour, subsiding into the quiet burgher, went about his usual business; and tranquillity and order once more reigned within the walls of Antwerp.--Thus, by the coolness and discretion of a single man, the finest city in the Netherlands was saved from irretrievable ruin.[878]

It was about the middle of March, 1567, that the disturbances occurred at Antwerp. During this time Noircarmes was enforcing the blockade of Valenciennes, but with little prospect of bringing it to a speedy issue. The inhabitants, confident in their strength, had made more than one successful sally, burning the cloisters in which the general had lodged part of his troops, and carrying back considerable booty into the city. It was evident that to reduce the place by blockade would be a work of no little time.

Margaret wrote to her brother to obtain his permission to resort to more vigorous measures, and, without further delay, to bombard the place. But Philip peremptorily refused. It was much to his regret, he said, that the siege of so fair a city had been undertaken. Since it had been, nothing remained but to trust to a blockade for its reduction.[879]

At this time an army of the confederates, some three or four thousand strong, appeared in the neighborhood of Tournay, designed partly to protect that town, which had refused a garrison, and partly to create a diversion in favor of Valenciennes. No sooner had Noircarmes got tidings of this, than, leaving a sufficient detachment to carry on the blockade, he made a rapid march with the rest of his forces, came suddenly on the enemy, engaged him in a pitched battle, completely routed him, and drove his scattered legions up to the walls of Tournay. That city, now incapable of resistance, opened its gates at once, and submitted to the terms of the conqueror, who soon returned, with his victorious army, to resume the siege of Valenciennes.

But the confidence of the inhabitants was not shaken. On the contrary, under the delusive promises of their preacher, it seemed to rise higher than ever, and they rejected with scorn every invitation to surrender. Again the regent wrote to her brother, that, unless he allowed more active operations, there was great danger the place would be relieved by the Huguenots on the frontier, or by the Gueux, whose troops were scattered through the country.

Urged by the last consideration, Philip yielded a reluctant assent to his sister's wishes. But in his letter, dated on the thirteenth of March, he insisted that, before resorting to violence, persuasion and menace should be first tried; and that, in case of an assault, great care should be had that no harm came to the old and infirm, to women or children, to any, in short, who were not found actually in arms against the government.[880]--The clemency shown by Philip on this occasion reflects infinite credit on him; and if it be disposed of by some as mere policy, it must be allowed to be a policy near akin to humanity. It forms a striking contrast with the ferocious mood in which Margaret indulged at this time, when she seems to have felt that a long arrear of vengeance was due for the humiliations she had been compelled to endure.

[Sidenote: SIEGE OF VALENCIENNES.]

The regent lost no time in profiting by the royal license. She first, however, proposed, in obedience to her instructions, to see what could be done by milder measures. She sent two envoys, Count Egmont and the duke of Arschot, to Valenciennes, in order to expostulate with the citizens, and if possible bring them to reason. The two nobles represented to the people the folly of attempting to cope, thus single-handed, as it were, with the government. Their allies had been discomfited one after another. With the defeat before Tournay must have faded the last ray of hope. They besought the citizens to accept, while there was time, the grace proffered them by the duchess, who was willing, if the town submitted, that such as chose to leave it might take their effects and go wherever they listed.

But the people of Valenciennes, fortified by the promises of their leaders, and with a blind confidence in their own resources, which had hitherto proved effectual, held lightly both the arguments and offers of the envoys, who returned to the camp of Noircarmes greatly disgusted with the ill-success of their mission. There was no room for further delay, and preparations were made for reducing the place by more active operations.

Valenciennes stands on the crest of an eminence that sweeps down by a gradual slope towards the river Scheldt, which, washing the walls of the city, forms a good defence on that quarter. The ramparts encompassing the town, originally strong and of great thickness, were now somewhat impaired by age. They were protected by a wide ditch, which in some places was partially choked up with rubbish. The walls were well lined with artillery, and the magazines provided with ammunition. In short, the place was one which, in earlier days, from the strength of its works as well as its natural position, might have embarrassed an army more formidable than that which now lay before it.

The first step of Noircarmes was to contract his lines, and closely to invest the town. He next availed himself of a dark and stormy night to attack one of the suburbs, which he carried after a sharp engagement, and left in the charge of some companies of Walloons.

The following day these troops opened a brisk fire on the soldiers who defended the ramparts, which was returned by the latter with equal spirit. But while amusing the enemy in this quarter, Noircarmes ordered a battery to be constructed, consisting at first of ten, afterwards of twenty, heavy guns and mortars, besides some lighter pieces. From this battery he opened a well-directed and most disastrous fire on the city, demolishing some of the principal edifices, which, from their size, afforded a prominent mark. The great tower of St. Nicholas, on which some heavy ordnance was planted, soon crumbled, under this fierce cannonade, and its defenders were buried in its ruins. At length, at the end of four hours, the inhabitants, unable longer to endure the storm of shot and shells which penetrated every quarter of the town, so far humbled their pride as to request a parley. To this Noircarmes assented, but without intermitting his fire for a moment.

The deputies informed the general, that the city was willing to capitulate on the terms before proposed by the Flemish nobles. But Noircarmes contemptuously told them that "things were not now as they then were, and it was not his wont to talk of terms with a fallen enemy."[881] The deputies, greatly discomfited by the reply, returned to report the failure of their mission to their townsmen.

Meanwhile the iron tempest continued with pitiless fury. The wretched people could find no refuge from it in their dwellings, which filled the streets with their ruins. It was not, however, till two-and-thirty hours more had passed away that a practicable breach was made in the walls; while the rubbish which had tumbled into the fosse from the crumbling ramparts afforded a tolerable passage for the besiegers, on a level nearly with the breach itself. By this passage Noircarmes now prepared to march into the city, through the open breach, at the head of his battalions.

The people of Valenciennes too late awoke from their delusion. They were no longer cheered by the voice of their fanatical leader, for he had provided for his own safety by flight; and, preferring any fate to that of being delivered over to the ruthless soldiery of Noircarmes, they offered at once to surrender the town at discretion, throwing themselves on the mercy of their victor. Six-and-thirty hours only had elapsed since the batteries of the besiegers had opened their fire, and during that time three thousand bombs had been thrown into the city;[882] which was thought scarcely less than a miracle in that day.

On the second of April, 1567, just four months after the commencement of the siege, the victorious army marched into Valenciennes. As it defiled through the long and narrow streets, which showed signs of the dismal fray in their shattered edifices, and in the dead and dying still stretched on the pavement, it was met by troops of women and young maidens bearing green branches in their hands, and deprecating with tears and piteous lamentations the wrath of the conquerors. Noircarmes marched at once to the town-house, where he speedily relieved the municipal functionaries of all responsibility, by turning them out of office. His next care was to seize the persons of the zealous ministers and the other leaders. Many had already contrived to make their escape. Most of these were soon after taken, the preacher La Grange among the rest, and to the number of thirty-six were sentenced either to the scaffold or the gallows.[883] The general then caused the citizens to be disarmed, and the fortifications, on which were mounted eighty pieces of artillery, to be dismantled. The town was deprived of its privileges and immunities, and a heavy fine imposed on the inhabitants to defray the charges of the war. The Protestant worship was abolished, the churches were restored to their former occupants, and none but the Roman Catholic service was allowed henceforth to be performed in the city. The bishop of Arras was invited to watch over the spiritual concerns of the inhabitants, and a strong garrison of eight battalions was quartered in the place, to secure order and maintain the authority of the cr own.[884]

[Sidenote: OATH IMPOSED BY MARGARET.]

The keys of Valenciennes, it was commonly said, opened to the regent the gates of all the refractory cities of the Netherlands. Maestricht, Tornhut, Ghent, Ypres, Oudenarde, and other places which had refused to admit a garrison within their walls, now surrendered, one after another, to Margaret, and consented to receive her terms. In like manner Megen established the royal authority in the province of Gueldres, and Aremberg, after a more prolonged resistance, in Gröningen and Friesland. In a few weeks, with the exception of Antwerp and some places in Holland, the victorious arms of the regent had subdued the spirit of resistance in every part of the country.[885] The movement of the insurgents had been premature.

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XIV. TRANQUILLITY RESTORED

Oath imposed by Margaret.--Refused by Orange.--He leaves the Netherlands.--Submission of the Country.--New Edict.--Order restored.

1567.

The perplexities in which the regent had been involved had led her to conceive a plan, early in January, 1567, the idea of which may have been suggested by the similar plan of Viglius. This was to require an oath from the great nobles, the knights of the Golden Fleece, and those in high stations, civil or military, that they would yield implicit and unqualified obedience to the commands of the king, of whatever nature they might be. Her object in this measure was not to secure a test of loyalty. She knew full well who were the friends and who were the foes of the government. But she wished a decent apology for ridding herself of the latter; and it was made a condition, that those who refused to take the oath were to be dismissed from office.

The measure seems to have met with no opposition when first started in the council; where Mansfeldt, Arschot, Megen, Barlaimont, all signified their readiness to sign the oath. Egmont indeed raised some scruples. After the oath of allegiance he had once taken, a new one seemed superfluous. The bare word of a man of honor and a chevalier of the Toison ought to suffice.[886] But after a short correspondence on the subject, his scruples vanished before the arguments or persuasions of the regent.

Brederode, who held a military command, was not of so accommodating a temper. He indignantly exclaimed, that it was a base trick of the government, and he understood the drift of it. He refused to subscribe the oath, and at once threw up his commission. The Counts Hoorne and Hoogstraten declined also, but in more temperate terms, and resigning their employments, withdrew to their estates in the country.

The person of most importance was the prince of Orange; and it was necessary to approach him with the greatest caution. Margaret, it is true, had long since withdrawn from him her confidence. But he had too much consideration and authority in the country for her to wish to break with him. Nor would she willingly give him cause of disgust. She accordingly addressed him a note, couched in the most insinuating terms she had at her command.

She could not doubt he would be ready to set a good example, when his example would be so important in the perplexed condition of the country. Rumors had been circulated to the prejudice of his loyalty. She did not give them credit. She could not for a moment believe that he would so far dishonor his great name and his illustrious descent as to deserve such a reproach; and she had no doubt he would gladly avail himself of the present occasion to wipe away all suspicion.[887]

The despatch inclosed a form of the oath, by which the party was to bind himself to "serve the king, and act for or against whomever his majesty might command, without restriction or limitation,"[888] on pain of being dismissed from office.

William was not long in replying to a requisition, to obey which would leave him less freedom than might be claimed by the meanest peasant in the country. On the twenty-eighth of April, the same day on which he received the letter, he wrote to the regent, declining in the most positive terms to take the oath. Such an act, he said, would of itself imply that he had already violated the oath he had previously taken. Nor could he honorably take it, since it might bind him to do what would be contrary to the dictates of his own conscience, as well as to what he conceived to be the true interests of his majesty and the country.[889] He was aware that such a demand on the regent's part was equivalent to a dismissal from office. He begged her, therefore, to send some one fully empowered to receive his commissions, since he was ready forthwith to surrender them. As for himself, he should withdraw from the Netherlands, and wait until his sovereign had time to become satisfied of his fidelity. But wherever he might be, he should ever be ready to devote both life and property to the service of the king and the common weal of the country.[890]

Whatever hesitation the prince of Orange may have before felt as to the course he was to take, it was clear the time had now come for decisive action. Though the steady advocate of political reform, his policy, as we have seen, had been to attempt this by constitutional methods, not by violence. But all his more moderate plans had been overthrown by the explosion of the iconoclasts. The outrages then perpetrated had both alienated the Catholics and disgusted the more moderate portion of the Protestants; while the divisions of the Protestants among themselves had so far paralyzed their action, that the whole strength of the party of reform had never been fairly exerted in the conflict. That conflict, unprepared as the nation was for it, had been most disastrous. Everywhere the arms of the regent had been victorious. It was evident the hour for resistance had not yet come.

[Sidenote: OATH REFUSED BY ORANGE.]

Yet for William to remain in his present position was hazardous in the extreme. Rumors had gone abroad that the duke of Alva would soon be in the Netherlands, at the head of a force sufficient to put down all opposition. "Beware of Alva," said his wife's kinsman, the landgrave of Hesse, to William; "I know him well."[891] The prince of Orange also knew him well,--too well to trust him. He knew the hard, inexorable nature of the man who was now coming with an army at his back, and clothed with the twofold authority of judge and executioner. The first blow would, he knew, be aimed at the highest mark. To await Alva's coming would be to provoke his fate. Yet the prince felt all the dreariness of his situation. "I am alone," he wrote to the Landgrave William of Hesse, "with dangers menacing me on all sides, yet without one trusty friend to whom I can open my heart."[892]

Margaret seems to have been less prepared than might have been expected for the decision of Orange. Yet she determined not to let him depart from the country without an effort to retain him. She accordingly sent her secretary, Berty, to the prince at Antwerp, to enter into the matter more freely, and, if possible, prevail on him to review the grounds of his decision. William freely, and at some length, stated his reasons for declining the oath. "If I thus blindly surrender myself to the will of the king, I may be driven to do what is most repugnant to my principles, especially in the stern mode of dealing with the sectaries. I may be compelled to denounce some of my own family, even my wife, as Lutherans, and to deliver them into the hands of the executioner. Finally," said he, "the king may send some one in his royal name to rule over us, to whom it would be derogatory for me to submit." The name of "Alva" escaped, as if involuntarily, from his lips,--and he was silent.[893]

Berty endeavored to answer the objections of the prince, but the latter, interrupting him before he had touched on the duke of Alva, bluntly declared that the king would never be content while one of his great vassals was wedded to a heretic. It was his purpose, therefore, to leave the country at once, and retire to Germany; and with this remark he abruptly closed the conference.

The secretary, though mortified at his own failure, besought William to consent to an interview, before his departure, with Count Egmont, who, Berty trusted, might be more successful. To this William readily assented. This celebrated meeting took place at Willbroek, a village between Antwerp and Brussels. Besides the two lords there were only present Count Mansfeldt and the secretary.

After some discussion, in which each of the friends endeavored to win over the other to his own way of thinking, William expressed the hope that Egmont would save himself in time from the bloody tempest that, he predicted, was soon to fall on the heads of the Flemish nobles.[894] "I trust in the clemency of my sovereign," answered the count; "he cannot deal harshly with men who have restored order to the country." "This clemency you so extol," replied William, "will be your ruin. Much I fear that the Spaniards will make use of you as a bridge to effect their entrance into the country!"[895] With this ominous prediction on his lips, he tenderly embraced the count, with tears in his eyes, bidding him a last farewell. And thus the two friends parted, like men who were never to meet again.

The different courses pursued by the two nobles were such as might be expected from the difference of both their characters and their circumstances. Egmont, ardent, hopeful, and confiding, easily surrendered himself to the illusions of his own fancy, as if events were to shape themselves according to his wishes. He had not the far-seeing eye of William, which seemed to penetrate into events as it did into characters. Nor had Egmont learned, like William, not to put his trust in princes. He was, doubtless, as sincerely attached to his country as the prince of Orange, and abhorred, like him, the system of persecution avowed by the government. But this persecution fell upon a party with whom he had little sympathy. William, on the other hand, was a member of that party. A blow aimed at them was aimed also at him. It is easy to see how different were the stakes of the two nobles in the coming contest, both in respect to their sympathies and their interests. Egmont was by birth a Fleming. His estates were in Flanders, and there, too, were his hopes of worldly fortune. Exile to him would have been beggary and ruin. But a large, if not the larger part of William's property, lay without the confines of the Netherlands. In withdrawing to Germany, he went to his native land. His kindred were still there. With them he had maintained a constant correspondence, and there he would be welcomed by troops of friends. It was a home, and no place of exile, that William was to find in Germany.

Shortly after this interview, the prince went to his estates at Breda, there to remain a few days before quitting the country.[896] From Breda he wrote to Egmont, expressing the hope that, when he had weighed them in his mind, he would be contented with the reasons assigned for his departure. The rest he would leave to God, who would order all for his own glory. "Be sure," he added, "you have no friend more warmly devoted to you than myself; for the love of you is too deeply rooted in my heart to be weakened either by time or distance."[897] It is pleasing to see that party spirit had not, as in the case of more vulgar souls, the power to rend asunder the ties which had so long bound these great men to each other; to see them still turning back, with looks of accustomed kindness, when they were entering the paths that were to lead in such opposite directions.

William wrote also to the king, acquainting him with what he had done, and explaining the grounds of it; at the same time renewing the declaration that, wherever he might be, he trusted never to be found wanting to the obligations of a true and faithful vassal. Before leaving Breda, the prince received a letter from the politic regent, more amiable in its import than might have been expected. Perhaps it was not wholly policy that made her unwilling to part with him in anger. She expressed her readiness to do him any favor in her power. She had always felt for him, she said, the same affection as for her own son, and should ever continue to do so.[898]

[Sidenote: WILLIAM LEAVES THE NETHERLANDS.]

On the last of April, William departed for Germany. He took with him all his household except his eldest son, the count of Buren, then a boy thirteen years old, who was pursuing his studies at the university of Louvain.[899] Perhaps William trusted to the immunities of Brabant, or to the tender age of the youth, for his protection. If so, he grievously miscalculated. The boy would serve as too important a hostage for his father, and Philip caused him to be transferred to Madrid; where, under the monarch's eye, he was educated in religious as well as in political sentiments very little in harmony with those of the prince of Orange. Fortunately, the younger brother, Maurice, who inherited the genius of his father, and was to carry down his great name to another generation, was allowed to receive his training under the paternal roof.[900]

Besides his family, William was accompanied by a host of friends and followers, some of them persons of high consideration, who preferred banishment with him to encountering the troubles that awaited them at home. Thus attended, he fixed his residence at Dillemburg, in Nassau, the seat of his ancestors, and the place of his own birth. He there occupied himself with studying the Lutheran doctrine under an experienced teacher of that persuasion;[901] and, while he kept a watchful eye on the events passing in his unhappy country, he endeavored to make himself acquainted with the principles of that glorious Reformation, of which, in connection with political freedom, he was one day to become the champion.

The departure of the prince of Orange caused general consternation in the Netherlands. All who were in anyway compromised by the late disturbances watched more anxiously than ever the signs of the coming tempest, as they felt they had lost the pilot who alone could enable them to weather it. Thousands prepared to imitate his example by quitting the country before it was too late. Among those who fled were the Counts Culemborg, Berg, Hoogstraten, Louis of Nassau, and others of inferior note, who passed into Germany, where they gathered into a little circle round the prince, waiting, like him, for happier days.

Some of the great lords, who had held out against the regent, now left alone, intimated their willingness to comply with her demands. "Count Hoorne," she writes to Philip, "has offered his services to me, and declares his readiness to take the oath. If he has spoken too freely, he says, it was not from any disaffection to the government, but from a momentary feeling of pique and irritation. I would not drive him to desperation, and from regard to his kindred I have consented that he should take his seat in the council again."[902] The haughty tone of the duchess shows that she felt herself now so strongly seated as to be nearly indifferent whether the person she dealt with were friend or foe.[903]

Egmont, at this time, was endeavoring to make amends for the past by such extraordinary demonstrations of loyalty as should efface all remembrance of it. He rode through the land at the head of his troops, breaking up the consistories, arresting the rioters, and everywhere reëstablishing the Catholic worship. He loudly declared that those who would remain his friends must give unequivocal proofs of loyalty to the crown and the Roman Catholic faith. Some of those with whom he had been most intimate, disgusted with, this course, and distrusting, perhaps, such a deposit for their correspondence, sent back the letters they had received from him, and demanded their own in return.[904]

At Brussels Egmont entered into all the gayeties of the court, displaying his usual magnificence in costly fêtes and banquets, which the duchess of Parma sometimes honored with her presence. The count's name appears among those which she mentions to Philip as of persons well affected to the government. "It is impossible," she says, "not to be satisfied with his conduct."[905] Thus elated by the favor of the regent--next in importance to that of royalty itself--the ill-fated nobleman cherished the fond hope that the past would now be completely effaced from the memory of his master,--a master who might forget a benefit, but who was never known to forgive an injury.

The great towns throughout the land had now generally intimated their willingness to submit to the requisitions of Margaret, and many of them had admitted garrisons within their walls. Antwerp only, of the cities of Brabant, remained intractable. At length it yielded to the general impulse, and a deputation was sent to the regent to sue for her forgiveness, and to promise that the leaders in the late disturbances should be banished from the city. This was a real triumph to the royal party, considering the motley character of the population, in which there was so large an infusion of Calvinism. But Margaret, far from showing her satisfaction, coolly answered that they must first receive a garrison; then she would intercede for them with the king, and would herself consent to take up her residence in the city. In this the inhabitants, now well humbled, affected willingly to acquiesce; and soon after Count Mansfeldt, at the head of sixteen companies of foot, marched into Antwerp in battle array, and there quartered his soldiers as in a conquered capital.

[Sidenote: NEW EDICT.]

A day was fixed for the regent's entry, which was to be made with all becoming pomp. Detachments of troops were stationed in the principal avenues, and on the thirtieth of April Margaret rode into Antwerp, escorted by twelve hundred Walloons, and accompanied by the knights of the Golden Fleece, the great lords, and the provincial magistrates. As the glittering procession passed through the files of the soldiery, along the principal streets, it was greeted with the huzzas of the fickle populace. Thus cheered on her way, the regent proceeded first to the cathedral, where Te Deum was chanted, and on her knees she returned thanks to the Almighty, that this great city had been restored without battle or bloodshed to the king and the true faith.[906] As her eyes wandered over the desecrated altars and the walls despoiled of their ornaments, their rich sculpture and paintings, by the rude hand of violence, Margaret could not restrain her tears. Her first care was to recover, as far as possible, the stolen property, and repair the injuries to the building; the next, to punish the authors of these atrocities; and the execution in the market-place of four of the ringleaders proclaimed to the people of Antwerp that the reign of anarchy was over.

Margaret next caused the churches of the reformed party to be levelled with the ground. Those of the Romish faith, after being purified, and the marks of violence, as far as practicable, effaced, were restored to their ancient occupants. The Protestant schools were everywhere closed. The children who had been baptized with Protestant rites were now re-baptized after the Catholic.[907] In fine, the reformed worship was interdicted throughout the city, and that of the Romish church, with its splendid ritual, was established in its place.

On occupying Antwerp, Margaret had allowed all who were not implicated in the late riots to leave the city with their effects. Great numbers now availed themselves of this permission, and the streets presented the melancholy spectacle of husbands parting from their wives, parents from their children, or, it might be, taking their families along with them to some kinder land, where they would be allowed to worship God according to the dictates of their own consciences.

But even this glimmering of a tolerant spirit,--if so it can be called,--which Margaret exhibited at the outset, soon faded away before the dark spirit of the Inquisition. On the twenty-fourth of May, she published an edict, written in the characters of blood which distinguished the worst times of Charles and of Philip. By this edict, all who had publicly preached, or who had performed the religions exercises after the Protestant manner, all who had furnished the places of meeting, or had harbored or aided the preachers, all printers of heretical tracts, or artists who with their pencil had brought ridicule on the Church of Rome,--all, in short, who were guilty of these or similar iniquities, were to be punished with death and confiscation of property. Lighter offences were to be dealt with according to the measure of their guilt. The edict containing these humane provisions is of considerable length, and goes into a large specification of offences, from which few, if any, of the reformed could have been entirely exempt.[908] When this ordinance of the regent was known at Madrid, it caused great dissatisfaction. The king pronounced it "indecorous, illegal, and altogether repugnant to the true spirit of Christianity;"[909] and he ordered Margaret forthwith to revoke the edict. It was accordingly repealed on the twenty-third of July following. The reader who may be disposed to join heartily in the malediction may not be prepared to learn that the cause of the royal indignation was not that the edict was too severe, but that it was too lenient! It nowhere denounced the right of private worship. A man might still be a heretic at heart and at his own fireside, so long as he did not obtrude it on the public. This did not suit the Inquisition, whose jealous eye penetrated into the houses and the hearts of men, dragging forth their secret thoughts into open day, and punishing these like overt acts. Margaret had something yet to learn in the school of persecution.[910]

While at Antwerp, the regent received an embassy from the elector of Saxony, the landgrave of Hesse, and other Protestant princes of Germany, interceding for the oppressed Lutherans, and praying that she would not consent to their being so grievously vexed by the Catholic government. Margaret, who was as little pleased with the plain terms in which this remonstrance was conveyed as with the object of it, coldly replied, that the late conduct of the Flemish Protestants doubtless entitled them to all this sympathy from the German princes; but she advised the latter to busy themselves with their own affairs, and leave the king of Spain to manage his as he thought best.[911]

Of all the provinces, Holland was the only one which still made resistance to the will of the regent. And here, as we have already seen, was gathered a military array of some strength. The head-quarters were at Brederode's town of Viana. But that chief had left his followers for the present, and had been secretly introduced into Amsterdam, where, as before noticed, he was busy in rousing a spirit of resistance in the citizens, already well prepared for it by their Protestant preachers. The magistrates, sorely annoyed, would gladly have rid themselves of Brederode's presence, but he had too strong a hold on the people. Yet, as hour after hour brought fresh tidings of the disasters of his party, the chief himself became aware that all hopes of successful resistance must be deferred to another day. Quitting the city by night, he contrived, with the aid of his friends, to make his escape into Germany. Some months he passed in Westphalia, occupied with raising forces for a meditated invasion of the Netherlands, when, in the summer of 1568, he was carried off by a fever, brought on, it is said, by his careless, intemperate way of life.[912]

Brederode was a person of a free and fearless temper,--with the defects, and the merits too, that attach to that sort of character. The friendship with which he seems to have been regarded by some of the most estimable persons of his party--Louis of Nassau, especially--speaks well for his heart. The reckless audacity of the man is shown in his correspondence; and the free manner in which he deals with persons and events makes his letters no less interesting than important for the light they throw on these troubled times. Yet it cannot be denied that, after all, Brederode is indebted much more to the circumstances of his situation than to his own character for the space he occupies in the pages of history.[913]

[Sidenote: CRUEL REPRISALS.]

Thus left without a leader, the little army which Brederode had gathered under his banner soon fell to pieces. Detachments, scattering over the country, committed various depredations, plundering the religious houses and engaging in encounters with the royal troops under Megen and Aremberg, in which the insurgents fared the worst. Thus broken on all sides, those who did not fall into the enemy's hands, or on the field, were too glad to make their escape into Germany. One vessel, containing a great number of fugitives, was wrecked, and all on board were made prisoners. Among them were two brothers, of the name of Battenberg; they were of a noble family, and prominent members of the league. They were at once, with their principal followers, thrown into prison, to await their doom from the bloody tribunal of Alva.

Deprived of all support from without, the city of Amsterdam offered no further resistance, but threw open its gates to the regent, and consented to accept her terms. These were the same that had been imposed on all the other refractory towns. The immunities of the city were declared to be forfeited, a garrison was marched into the place, and preparations were made for building a fortress, to guard against future commotions. Those who chose--with the customary exceptions--were allowed to leave the city. Great numbers availed themselves of the permission. The neighboring dikes were crowded with fugitives from the territory around, as well as from the city, anxiously waiting for vessels to transport them to Embden, the chief asylum of the exiles. There they stood, men, women, and children, a melancholy throng, without food, almost without raiment or any of the common necessaries of life, exciting the commiseration of even their Catholic adversaries.[914]

The example of Amsterdam was speedily followed by Delft, Haarlem, Rotterdam, Leyden, and the remaining towns of Holland, which now seemed to vie with one another in demonstrations of loyalty to the government. The triumph of the regent was complete. Her arms had been everywhere successful, and her authority was fully recognized throughout the whole extent of the Netherlands. Doubtful friends and open foes, Catholics and Reformers, were alike prostrate at her feet.[915] With the hour of triumph came also the hour of vengeance. And we can hardly doubt that the remembrance of past humiliation gave a sharper edge to the sword of justice. Fortresses, to overawe the inhabitants, were raised in the principal towns;[916] and the expense of their construction, as well as of maintaining their garrison, was defrayed by fines laid on the refractory cities.[917] The regent's troops rode over the country, and wherever the reformed were gathered to hear the word, they were charged by the troopers, who trampled them under their horses' hoofs, shooting them down without mercy, or dragging them off by scores to execution. No town was so small that fifty at least did not perish in this way, while the number of the victims sometimes rose to two or even three hundred.[918] Everywhere along the road-side the traveller beheld the ghastly spectacle of bodies swinging from gibbets, or met with troops of miserable exiles flying from their native land.[919] Confiscation followed, as usual, in the train of persecution. At Tournay, the property of a hundred of the richest merchants was seized and appropriated by the government. Even the populace, like those animals who fall upon and devour one of their own number when wounded, now joined in the cry against the Reformers. They worked with the same alacrity as the soldiers in pulling down the Protestant churches; and from the beams, in some instances, formed the very gallows from which their unhappy victims were suspended.[920] Such is the picture, well charged with horrors, left to us by Protestant writers. We may be quite sure that it lost nothing of its darker coloring under their hands.

So strong was now the tide of emigration, that it threatened to depopulate some of the fairest provinces of the country. The regent, who at first rejoiced in this as the best means of ridding the land of its enemies, became alarmed, as she saw it was drawing off so large a portion of the industrious population. They fled to France, to Germany, and very many to England, where the wise Elizabeth provided them with homes, knowing well that, though poor, they brought with them a skill in the mechanic arts which would do more than gold and silver for the prosperity of her kingdom.

Margaret would have stayed this tide of emigration by promises of grace, if not by a general amnesty for the past. But though she had power to punish, Philip had not given her the power to pardon. And indeed promises of grace would have availed little with men flying from the dread presence of Alva.[921] It was the fear of him which gave wings to their flight, as Margaret herself plainly intimated in a letter to the duke, in which she deprecated his coming with an army, when nothing more was needed than a vigilant police.[922]

[Sidenote: TRANQUILLITY RESTORED.]

In truth, Margaret was greatly disgusted by the intended mission of the duke of Alva, of which she had been advised by the king some months before. She knew well the imperious temper of the man, and that, however high-sounding might be her own titles, the power would be lodged in his hands. She felt this to be a poor requital for her past services,--a personal indignity, no less than an injury to the state. She gave free vent to her feelings on the subject in more than one letter to her brother.

In a letter of the fifth of April she says: "You have shown no regard for my wishes or my reputation. By your extraordinary restrictions on my authority, you have prevented my settling the affairs of the country entirely to my mind. Yet, seeing things in so good a state, you are willing to give all the credit to another, and leave me only the fatigue and danger.[923] But I am resolved, instead of wasting the remainder of my days, as I have already done my health, in this way, to retire and dedicate myself to a tranquil life in the service of God." In another letter, dated four weeks later, on the third of May, after complaining that the king withdraws his confidence more and more from her, she asks leave to withdraw, as the country is restored to order, and the royal authority more assured than in the time of Charles the Fifth.[924]

In this assurance respecting the public tranquillity, Margaret was no doubt sincere; as are also the historians who have continued to take the same view of the matter, down to the present time, and who consider the troubles of the country to have been so far composed by the regent, that, but for the coming of Alva, there would have been no revolution in the Netherlands. Indeed, there might have seemed to be good ground for such a conclusion. The revolt had been crushed. Resistance had everywhere ceased. The authority of the regent was recognized throughout the land. The league, which had raised so bold a front against the government, had crumbled away. Its members had fallen in battle, or lay waiting their sentence in dungeons, or were wandering as miserable exiles in distant lands. The name of Gueux, and the insignia of the bowl and the beggar's scrip, which they had assumed in derision, were now theirs by right. It was too true for a jest.

The party of reform had disappeared, as if by magic. Its worship was everywhere proscribed. On its ruins the Catholic religion had risen in greater splendor than ever. Its temples were restored, its services celebrated with more than customary pomp. The more austere and uncompromising of the Reformers had fled the country. Those who remained purchased impunity by a compulsory attendance on mass; or the wealthier sort, by the aid of good cheer or more substantial largesses, bribed the priest to silence.[925] At no time since the beginning of the Reformation had the clergy been treated with greater deference, or enjoyed a greater share of authority in the land. The dark hour of revolution seemed, indeed, to have passed away.

Yet a Fleming of that day might well doubt whether the prince of Orange were a man likely to resign his fair heritage and the land so dear to his heart without striking one blow in their defence. One who knew the wide spread of the principles of reform, and the sturdy character of the reformer, might distrust the permanence of a quiet which had been brought about by so much violence. He might rather think that, beneath the soil he was treading, the elements were still at work, which, at no distant time perhaps, would burst forth with redoubled violence, and spread ruin over the land!

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I. ALVA SENT TO THE NETHERLANDS

Alva's Appointment.--His remarkable March.--He arrives at Brussels.--Margaret disgusted.--Policy of the Duke.--Arrest of Egmont and Hoorne.

1567.

While Margaret was thus successful in bringing the country to a state of at least temporary tranquillity, measures were taken at the court of Madrid for shifting the government of the Netherlands into other hands, and for materially changing its policy.

We have seen how actively the rumors had been circulated, throughout the last year, of Philip's intended visit to the country. These rumors had received abundant warrant from his own letters, addressed to the regent and to his ministers at the different European courts. Nor did the king confine himself to professions. He applied to the French government to allow a free passage for his army through its territories. He caused a survey to be made of that part of Savoy through which his troops would probably march, and a map of the proposed route to be prepared. He ordered fresh levies from Germany to meet him on the Flemish frontier. And finally, he talked of calling the cortes together, to provide for the regency during his absence.

Yet whoever else might be imposed on, there was one potentate in Europe whose clear vision was not to be blinded by the professions of Philip, nor by all this bustle of preparation. This was the old pontiff, Pius the Fifth, who had always distrusted the king's sincerity. Pius had beheld with keen anguish the spread of heresy in the Low Countries. Like a true son of the Inquisition as he was, he would gladly have seen its fires kindled in every city of this apostate land. He had observed with vexation the apathy manifested by Philip. And he at length resolved to despatch a special embassy to Spain, to stimulate the monarch, if possible, to more decided action.

The person employed was the bishop of Ascoli, and the good father delivered his rebuke in such blunt terms as caused a sensation at the court of Madrid. In a letter to his ambassador at Rome, Philip complained that the pope should have thus held him up to Christendom as one slack in the performance of his duty. The envoy had delivered himself in so strange a manner, Philip added, that, but for the respect and love he bore his holiness, he might have been led to take precisely the opposite course to the one he intended.[926]

[Sidenote: HIS APPOINTMENT.]

Yet notwithstanding this show of indignation, had it not been for the outbreak of the iconoclasts, it is not improbable that the king might still have continued to procrastinate, relying on his favorite maxim, that "Time and himself were a match for any other two."[927] But the event which caused such a sensation throughout Christendom roused every feeling of indignation in the royal bosom,--and this from the insult offered to the crown as well as to the Church. Contrary to his wont, the king expressed himself with so much warmth on the subject, and so openly, that the most sceptical began at last to believe that the long talked of visit was at hand. The only doubt was as to the manner in which it should be made; whether the king should march at the head of an army, or attended only by so much of a retinue as was demanded by his royal state.

The question was warmly discussed in the council. Ruy Gomez, the courtly favorite of Philip, was for the latter alternative. A civil war he deprecated, as bringing ruin even to the victor.[928] Clemency was the best attribute of a sovereign, and the people of Flanders were a generous race, more likely to be overcome by kindness than by arms.[929] In these liberal and humane views the prince of Eboli was supported by the politic secretary, Antonio Perez, and by the duke of Feria, formerly ambassador to London, a man who to polished manners united a most insinuating eloquence.

But very different opinions, as might be expected, were advanced by the duke of Alva. The system of indulgence, he said, had been that followed by the regent, and its fruits were visible. The weeds of heresy were not to be extirpated by a gentle hand; and his majesty should deal with his rebellious vassals as Charles the Fifth had dealt with their rebel fathers at Ghent.[930] These stern views received support from the Cardinal Espinosa, who held the office of president of the council, as well as of grand inquisitor, and who doubtless thought the insult offered to the Inquisition not the least of the offences to be charged on the Reformers.

Each of the great leaders recommended the measures most congenial with his own character, and which, had they been adopted, would probably have required his own services to carry them into execution. Had the pacific course been taken, Feria, or more probably Ruy Gomez, would have been intrusted with the direction of affairs. Indeed, Montigny and Bergen, still detained in reluctant captivity at Madrid, strongly urged the king to send the prince of Eboli, as a man, who, by his popular manners and known discretion, would be most likely to reconcile opposite factions.[931] Were violent measures, on the other hand, to be adopted, to whom could they be so well intrusted as to the duke himself, the most experienced captain of his time?

The king, it is said, contrary to his custom, was present at the meeting of the council, and listened to the debate. He did not intimate his opinion. But it might be conjectured to which side he was most likely to lean, from his habitual preference for coercive measures.[932]

Philip came to a decision sooner than usual. In a few days he summoned the duke, and told him that he had resolved to send him forthwith, at the head of an army, to the Netherlands. It was only, however, to prepare the way for his own coming, which would take place as soon as the country was in a state sufficiently settled to receive him.

All was now alive with the business of preparation in Castile. Levies were raised throughout the country. Such was the zeal displayed, that even the Inquisition and the clergy advanced a considerable sum towards defraying the expenses of an expedition which they seemed to regard in the light of a crusade.[933] Magazines of provisions were ordered to be established at regular stations on the proposed line of march. Orders were sent, that the old Spanish garrisons in Lombardy, Naples, Sicily, and Sardinia, should be transported to the place of rendezvous in Piedmont, to await the coming of the duke, who would supply their places with the fresh recruits brought with him from Castile.

Philip meanwhile constantly proclaimed that Alva's departure was only the herald of his own. He wrote this to Margaret, assuring her of his purpose to go by water, and directing her to have a squadron of eight vessels in readiness to convoy him to Zealand, where he proposed to land. The vessels were accordingly equipped. Processions were made, and prayers put up in all the churches, for the prosperous passage of the king. Yet there were some in the Netherlands who remarked that prayers to avert the dangers of the sea were hardly needed by the monarch in his palace at Madrid![934] Many of those about the royal person soon indulged in the same scepticism in regard to the king's sincerity, as week after week passed away, and no arrangements were made for his departure. Among the contradictory rumors at court in respect to the king's intention, the pope's nuncio wrote, it was impossible to get at the truth.[935] It was easy to comprehend the general policy of Philip, but impossible to divine the particular plans by which, it was to be carried out. If such was the veil which hid the monarch's purposes even from the eyes of those who had nearest access to his person, how can we hope at this distance of time to penetrate it? Yet the historian of the nineteenth century is admitted to the perusal of many an authentic document revealing the royal purpose, which never came under the eye of the courtier of Madrid.

[Sidenote: HIS APPOINTMENT.]

With all the light thus afforded, it is still difficult to say whether Philip ever was sincere in his professions of visiting the Netherlands. If he were so at any time, it certainly was not after he had decided on the mission of Alva. Philip widely differed from his father in a sluggishness of body which made any undertaking that required physical effort exceedingly irksome. He shrunk from no amount of sedentary labor, would toil from morning till midnight in his closet, like the humblest of his secretaries. But a journey was a great undertaking. After his visits, during his father's lifetime, to England and the Low Countries, he rarely travelled farther, as his graceless son satirically hinted, than from Madrid to Aranjuez, or Madrid to the Escorial. A thing so formidable as an expedition to Flanders, involving a tedious journey through an unfriendly land, or a voyage through seas not less unfriendly, was what, under ordinary circumstances, the king would have never dreamed of.

The present aspect of affairs, moreover, had nothing in it particularly inviting,--especially to a prince of Philip's temper. Never was there a prince more jealous of his authority; and the indignities to which he might have been exposed, in the disorderly condition of the country, might well have come to the aid of his constitutional sluggishness to deter him from the visit.

Under these circumstances, it is not strange that Philip, if he had ever entertained a vague project of a journey to the Netherlands, should have yielded to his natural habit of procrastination. The difficulties of a winter's voyage, the necessity of summoning the cortes and settling the affairs of the kingdom, his own protracted illness, furnished so many apologies for postponing the irksome visit, until the time had passed when such a visit could be effectual.

That he should so strenuously have asserted his purpose of going to the Netherlands may be explained by a desire in some sort to save his credit with those who seemed to think that the present exigency demanded he should go. He may have also thought it politic to keep up the idea of a visit to the Low Countries, in order to curb--as it no doubt had the effect in some degree of curbing--the licence of the people, who believed they were soon to be called to a reckoning for their misdeeds by their prince in person. After all, the conduct of Philip on this occasion, and the motives assigned for his delay in his letters to Margaret, must be allowed to afford a curious coincidence with those ascribed, in circumstances not dissimilar, by the Roman historian to Tiberius.[936]

On the fifteenth of April, 1567, Alva had his last audience of Philip at Aranjuez. He immediately after departed for Carthagena, where a fleet of thirty-six vessels, under the Genoese Admiral Doria, lay riding at anchor to receive him. He was detained some time for the arrival of the troops, and while there he received despatches from court containing his commission of captain-general, and particular instructions as to the course he was to pursue in the Netherlands. They were so particular, that, notwithstanding the broad extent of his powers, the duke wrote to his master complaining of his want of confidence, and declaring that he had never been hampered by instructions so minute, even under the emperor.[937] One who has studied the character of Philip will find no difficulty in believing it.

On the twenty-seventh of April, the fleet weighed anchor; but in consequence of a detention of some days at several places on the Catalan coast, it did not reach the Genoese port of Savona till the seventeenth of the next month. The duke had been ill when he went on board; and his gouty constitution received no benefit from the voyage. Yet he did not decline the hospitalities offered by the Genoese nobles, who vied with the senate in showing the Spanish commander every testimony of respect. At Asti he was waited on by Albuquerque, the Milanese viceroy, and by ambassadors from different Italian provinces, eager to pay homage to the military representative of the Spanish monarch. But the gout under which Alva labored was now aggravated by an attack of tertian ague, and for a week or more he was confined to his bed.

Meanwhile the troops had assembled at the appointed rendezvous; and the duke, as soon as he had got the better of his disorder, made haste to review them. They amounted in all to about ten thousand men, of whom less than thirteen hundred were cavalry. But though small in amount, it was a picked body of troops, such as was hardly to be matched in Europe. The infantry, in particular, were mostly Spaniards,--veterans who had been accustomed to victory under the banner of Charles the Fifth, and many of them trained to war under the eye of Alva himself. He preferred such a body, compact and well disciplined as it was, to one which, unwieldy from its size, would have been less fitted for a rapid march across the mountains.[938]

[Sidenote: HIS REMARKABLE MARCH.]

Besides those of the common file, there were many gentlemen and cavaliers of note, who, weary of repose, came as volunteers to gather fresh laurels under so renowned a chief as the duke of Alva. Among these was Vitelli, marquis of Cetona, a Florentine soldier of high repute in his profession, but who, though now embarked in what might be called a war of religion, was held so indifferent to religion of any kind, that a whimsical epitaph on the sceptic denies him the possession of a soul.[939] Another of these volunteers was Mondragone, a veteran of Charles the Fifth, whose character for chivalrous exploit was unstained by those deeds of cruelty and rapine which were so often the reproach of the cavalier of the sixteenth century. The duties of the commissariat, particularly difficult in a campaign like the present, were intrusted to an experienced Spanish officer named Ibarra. To the duke of Savoy Alva was indebted for an eminent engineer named Paciotti, whose services proved of great importance in the construction of fortresses in the Netherlands. Alva had also brought with him his two sons, Frederic and Ferdinand de Toledo,--the latter an illegitimate child, for whom the father showed as much affection as it was in his rugged nature to feel for any one. To Ferdinand was given the command of the cavalry, composed chiefly of Italians.[940]

Having reviewed his forces, the duke formed them into three divisions. This he did in order to provide the more easily for their subsistence on his long and toilsome journey. The divisions were to be separated from one another by a day's march; so that each would take up at night the same quarters which had been occupied by the preceding division on the night before. Alva himself led the van.[941]

He dispensed with artillery, not willing to embarrass his movements in his passage across the mountains. But he employed what was then a novelty in war. Each company of foot was flanked by a body of soldiers, carrying heavy muskets with rests attached to them. This sort of fire-arms, from their cumbrous nature, had hitherto been used only in the defence of fortresses. But with these portable rests, they were found efficient for field service, and as such came into general use after this period.[942] Their introduction by Alva may be regarded, therefore, as an event of some importance in the history of military art.

The route that Alva proposed to take was that over Mount Cenis, the same, according to tradition, by which Hannibal crossed the great barrier some eighteen centuries before.[943] If less formidable than in the days of the Carthaginian, it was far from being the practicable route so easily traversed, whether by trooper or tourist, at the present day. Steep rocky heights, shaggy with forests, where the snows of winter still lingered in the midst of June; fathomless ravines, choked up with the débris washed down by the mountain torrent; paths scarcely worn by the hunter and his game, affording a precarious footing on the edge of giddy precipices; long and intricate defiles, where a handful of men might hold an army at bay, and from the surrounding heights roll down ruin on their heads;--these were the obstacles which Alva and his followers had to encounter, as they threaded their toilsome way through a country where the natives bore no friendly disposition to the Spaniards.

Their route lay at no great distance from Geneva, that stronghold of the Reformers; and Pius the Fifth would have persuaded the duke to turn from his course, and exterminate this "nest of devils and apostates,"[944]--as the Christian father was pleased to term them. The people of Geneva, greatly alarmed at the prospect of an invasion, applied to their Huguenot brethren for aid. The prince of Condé and the Admiral Coligni--the leaders of that party--offered their services to the French monarch to raise fifty thousand men, fall upon his old enemies, the Spaniards, and cut them off in the passes of the mountains. But Charles the Ninth readily understood the drift of this proposal. Though he bore little love to the Spaniards, he bore still less to the Reformers. He therefore declined this offer of the Huguenot chiefs, adding that he was able to protect France without their assistance.[945] The Genevans were accordingly obliged to stand to their own defence, though they gathered confidence from the promised support of their countrymen of Berne; and the whole array of these brave mountaineers was in arms, ready to repel any assault of the Spaniards on their own territory or on that of their allies, in their passage through the country. But this was unnecessary. Though Alva passed within six leagues of Geneva, and the request of the pontiff was warmly seconded by the duke of Savoy, the Spanish general did not deem it prudent to comply with it, declaring that his commission extended no further than to the Netherlands. Without turning to the right or to the left he held on, therefore, straight towards the mark, anxious only to extricate himself as speedily as possible from the perilous passes where he might be taken at so obvious disadvantage by an enemy.

Yet such were the difficulties he had to encounter, that a fortnight elapsed before he was able to set foot on the friendly plains of Burgundy,--that part of the ancient duchy which acknowledged the authority of Spain. Here he received the welcome addition to his ranks of four hundred horse, the flower of the Burgundian chivalry. On his way across the country he was accompanied by a French army of observation, some six thousand strong, which moved in a parallel direction, at the distance of six or seven leagues only from the line of march pursued by the Spaniards,--though without offering them any molestation.

[Sidenote: HE ARRIVES AT BRUSSELS.]

Soon after entering Lorraine, Alva was met by the duke of that province, who seemed desirous to show him every respect, and entertained him with princely hospitality. After a brief detention, the Spanish general resumed his journey, and on the 8th of August crossed the frontiers of the Netherlands.[946]

His long and toilsome march had been accomplished without an untoward accident, and with scarcely a disorderly act on the part of the soldiers. No man's property had been plundered. No peasant's hut had been violated. The cattle had been allowed to graze unmolested in the fields, and the flocks to wander in safety over their mountain pastures. One instance only to the contrary is mentioned,--that of three troopers, who carried off one or two straggling sheep as the army was passing through Lorraine. But they were soon called to a heavy reckoning for their transgression. Alva, on being informed of the fact, sentenced them all to the gallows. At the intercession of the duke of Lorraine, the sentence was so far mitigated by the Spanish commander, that one only of the three, selected by lot, was finally executed.[947]

The admirable discipline maintained among Alva's soldiers was the more conspicuous in an age when the name of soldier was synonymous with that of marauder. It mattered little whether it were a friendly country or that of a foe through which lay the line of march. The defenceless peasant was everywhere the prey of the warrior; and the general winked at the outrages of his followers, as the best means of settling their arrears.

What made the subordination of the troops, in the present instance, still more worthy of notice, was the great number of camp followers, especially courtesans, who hung on the skirts of the army. These latter mustered in such force, that they were divided into battalions and companies, marching each under its own banner, and subjected to a sort of military organization, like the men.[948] The duke seems to have been as careless of the morals of his soldiers as he was careful of their discipline; perhaps willing by his laxity in the one to compensate for his severity in the other.

It was of the last importance to Alva that his soldiers should commit no trespass, nor entangle him in a quarrel with the dangerous people through the midst of whom he was to pass; and who, from their superior knowledge of the country, as well as their numbers, could so easily overpower him. Fortunately, he had received such intimations before his departure as put him on his guard. The result was, that he obtained such a mastery over his followers, and enforced so perfect a discipline, as excited the general admiration of his contemporaries, and made his march to the Low Countries one of the most memorable events of the period.[949]

At Thionville the duke was waited on by Barlaimont and Noircarmes, who came to offer the salutations of the regent, and at the same time to request to see his powers. At the same place, and on the way to the capital, the duke was met by several of the Flemish nobility, who came to pay their respects to him; among the rest, Egmont, attended by forty of his retainers. On his entering Alva's presence, the duke exclaimed to one of his officers, "Here comes a great heretic!" The words were overheard by Egmont, who hesitated a moment, naturally disconcerted by what would have served as an effectual warning to any other man. But Alva made haste to efface the impression caused by his heedless exclamation, receiving Egmont with so much cordiality as reassured the infatuated nobleman, who, regarding the words as a jest, before his departure presented the duke with two beautiful horses.--Such is the rather singular story which comes down to us on what must be admitted to be respectable authority.[950]

Soon after he had entered the country, the duke detached the greater part of his forces to garrison some of the principal cities, and relieve the Walloon troops on duty there, less to be trusted than his Spanish veterans. With the Milanese brigade he took the road to Brussels, which he entered on the twenty-second of August. His cavalry he established at ten leagues' distance from the capital, and the infantry he lodged in the suburbs. Far from being greeted by acclamations, no one came out to welcome him as he entered the city, which seemed like a place deserted. He went straight to the palace, to offer his homage to the regent. An altercation took place on the threshold between his halberdiers and Margaret's body-guard of archers, who disputed the entrance of the Spanish soldiers. The duke himself was conducted to the bed-chamber of the duchess, where she was in the habit of giving audience. She was standing, with a few Flemish nobles by her side; and she remained in that position, without stirring a single step to receive her visitor. Both parties continued standing during the interview, which lasted half an hour; the duke during the greater part of the time with his hat in his hand, although Margaret requested him to be covered. The curious spectators of this conference amused themselves by contrasting the courteous and even deferential manners of the haughty Spaniard with the chilling reserve and stately demeanor of the duchess.[951] At the close of the interview Alva withdrew to his own quarters at Culemborg House,--the place, it will be remembered, where the Gueux held their memorable banquet on their visit to Brussels.

[Sidenote: MARGARET DISGUSTED.]

The following morning, at the request of the council of state, the duke of Alva furnished that body with a copy of his commission. By this he was invested with the title of captain-general, and in that capacity was to exercise supreme control in all military affairs.[952] By another commission, dated two months later, these powers were greatly enlarged. The country was declared in a state of rebellion; and, as milder means had failed to bring it to obedience, it was necessary to resort to arms. The duke was therefore commanded to levy war on the refractory people, and reduce them to submission. He was moreover to inquire into the causes of the recent troubles, and bring the suspected parties to trial, with full authority to punish or to pardon as he might judge best for the public weal.[953] Finally, a third commission, of more startling import than the two preceding, and which, indeed, might seem to supersede them altogether, was dated on the first of March, 1567. In the former instruments the duke was so far required to act in subordination to the regent, that her authority was declared to be unimpaired. But by virtue of this last commission he was invested with supreme control in civil as well as military affairs; and persons of every degree, including the regent herself, were enjoined to render obedience to his commands, as to those of the king.[954] Such a commission, which placed the government of the country in the hands of Alva, was equivalent to a dismissal of Margaret. The title of "regent," which still remained to her, was an empty mockery; nor could it be thought that she would be content to retain a barren sceptre in the country over which she had so long ruled.

It is curious to observe the successive steps by which Philip had raised Alva from the rank of captain-general of the army to supreme authority in the country. It would seem as if the king were too tenacious of power readily to part with it; and that it was only by successive efforts, as the conviction of the necessity of such a step pressed more and more on his mind, that he determined to lodge the government in the hands of Alva.

Whether the duke acquainted the council with the full extent of his powers, or, as seems more probable, communicated to that body only his first two commissions, it is impossible to say. At all events, the members do not appear to have been prepared for the exhibition of powers so extensive, and which, even in the second of the commissions, transcended those exercised by the regent herself. A consciousness that they did so had led Philip, in more than one instance, to qualify the language of the instrument, in such a manner as not to rouse the jealousy of his sister,--an artifice so obvious, that it probably produced a contrary effect. At any rate, Margaret did not affect to conceal her disgust, but talked openly of the affront put on her by the king, and avowed her determination to throw up the government.[955]

She gave little attention to business, passing most of her days in hunting, of which masculine sport she was excessively fond. She even threatened to amuse herself with journeying about from place to place, leaving public affairs to take care of themselves, till she should receive the king's permission to retire.[956] From this indulgence of her spleen she was dissuaded by her secretary, Armenteros, who, shifting his sails to suit the breeze, showed, soon after Alva's coming, his intention to propitiate the new governor. There were others of Margaret's adherents less accommodating. Some high in office intimated very plainly their discontent at the presence of the Spaniards, from which they boded only calamity to the country.[957] Margaret's confessor, in a sermon preached before the regent, did not scruple to denounce the Spaniards as so many "knaves, traitors, and ravishers."[958] And although the remonstrance of the loyal Armenteros induced the duchess to send back the honest man to his convent, it was plain, from the warm terms in which she commended the preacher, that she was far from being displeased with his discourse.

The duke of Alva cared little for the hatred of the Flemish lords.[959] But he felt otherwise towards the regent. He would willingly have soothed her irritation; and he bent his haughty spirit to show, in spite of her coldness, a deference in his manner that must have done some violence to his nature. As a mark of respect, he proposed at once to pay her another visit, and in great state, as suited her rank. But Margaret, feigning or feeling herself too ill to receive him, declined his visit for some days, and at last, perhaps to mortify him the more, vouchsafed him only a private audience in her own apartment.

Yet at this interview she showed more condescension than before, and even went so far as to assure the duke that there was no one whose appointment would have been more acceptable to her.[960] She followed this, by bluntly demanding why he had been sent at all. Alva replied, that, as she had often intimated her desire for a more efficient military force, he had come to aid her in the execution of her measures, and to restore peace to the country before the arrival of his majesty.[961]--The answer could hardly have pleased the duchess, who doubtless considered she had done that without his aid, already.

[Sidenote: MARGARET DISGUSTED.]

The discourse fell upon the mode of quartering the troops. Alva proposed to introduce a Spanish garrison into Brussels. To this Margaret objected with great energy. But the duke on this point was inflexible. Brussels was the royal residence, and the quiet of the city could only be secured by a garrison. "If people murmur," he concluded, "you can tell them I am a headstrong man, bent on having my own way. I am willing to take all the odium of the measure on myself."[962] Thus thwarted, and made to feel her inferiority when any question of real power was involved, Margaret felt the humiliation of her position even more keenly than before. The appointment of Alva had been from the first, as we have seen, a source of mortification to the duchess. In December, 1566, soon after Philip had decided on sending the duke, with the authority of captain-general, to the Low Countries, he announced it in a letter to Margaret. He had been as much perplexed, he said, in the choice of a commander, as she could have been; and it was only at her suggestion of the necessity of some one to take the military command, that he had made such a nomination. Alva was, however, only to prepare the way for him, to assemble a force on the frontier, establish the garrisons, and enforce discipline among the troops till he came.[963] Philip was careful not to alarm his sister by any hint of the extraordinary powers to be conferred on the duke, who thus seemed to be sent only in obedience to her suggestion, and in subordination to her authority.--Margaret knew too well that Alva was not a man to act in subordination to any one. But whatever misgivings she may have had, she hardly betrayed them in her reply to Philip, in the following February, 1567, when she told the king she "was sure he would never be so unjust, and do a thing so prejudicial to the interests of the country, as to transfer to another the powers he had vested in her."[964]

The appointment of Alva may have stimulated the regent to the extraordinary efforts she then made to reduce the country to order. When she had achieved this, she opened her mind more freely to her brother, in a letter dated July 12, 1567. "The name of Alva was so odious in the Netherlands that it was enough to make the whole Spanish nation detested.[965] She could never have imagined that the king would make such an appointment without consulting her." She then, alluding to orders lately received from Madrid, shows extreme repugnance to carry out the stern policy of Philip;[966]--a repugnance, it must be confessed, that seems to rest less on the character of the measures than on the difficulty of their execution.

When the duchess learned that Alva was in Italy, she wrote also to him, hoping at this late hour to arrest his progress by the assurance that the troubles were now at an end, and that his appearance at the head of an army would only serve to renew them. But the duke was preparing for his march across the Alps, and it would have been as easy to stop the avalanche in its descent, as to stay the onward course of this "man of destiny."

The state of Margaret's feelings was shown by the chilling reception she gave the duke on his arrival in Brussels. The extent of his powers, so much beyond what she had imagined, did not tend to soothe the irritation of the regent's temper; and the result of the subsequent interview filled up the measure of her indignation. However forms might be respected, it was clear the power had passed into other hands. She wrote at once to Philip, requesting, or rather requiring, his leave to withdraw without delay from the country. "If he had really felt the concern he professed for her welfare and reputation, he would have allowed her to quit the government before being brought into rivalry with a man like the duke of Alva, who took his own course in everything, without the least regard to her. It afflicted her to the bottom of her soul to have been thus treated by the king."[967]

It may have given some satisfaction to Margaret, that in her feelings towards the duke she had the entire sympathy of the nation. In earlier days, in the time of Charles the Fifth, Alva had passed some time both in Germany and in the Netherlands, and had left there no favorable impression of his character. In the former country, indeed, his haughty deportment on a question of etiquette had caused some embarrassment to his master. Alva insisted on the strange privilege of the Castilian grandee to wear his hat in the presence of his sovereign. The German nobles, scandalized by this pretension in a subject, asserted that their order had as good a right to it as the Spaniards. It was not without difficulty that the proud duke was content to waive the contested privilege till his return to Spain.[968]

Another anecdote of Alva had left a still more unfavorable impression of his character. He had accompanied Charles on his memorable visit to Ghent, on occasion of its rebellion. The emperor asked the duke's counsel as to the manner in which he should deal with his refractory capital. Alva instantly answered, "Raze it to the ground!" Charles, without replying, took the duke with him to the battlements of the castle; and as their eyes wandered over the beautiful city spread out far and wide below, the emperor asked him, with a pun on the French name of Ghent (Gand), how many Spanish hides it would take to make such a glove (gant). Alva, who saw his master's displeasure, received the rebuke in silence. The story, whether true or not, was current among the people of Flanders, on whom it produced its effect.[969]

Alva was now sixty years old. It was not likely that age had softened the asperity of his nature. He had, as might be expected, ever shown himself the uncompromising enemy of the party of reform in the Low Countries. He had opposed the concession made to the nation by the recall of Granvelle. The only concessions he recommended to Philip were in order to lull the suspicions of the great lords, till he could bring them to a bloody reckoning for their misdeeds.[970] The general drift of his policy was perfectly understood in the Netherlands, and the duchess had not exaggerated when she dwelt on the detestation in which he was held by the people.

His course on his arrival was not such as to diminish the fears of the nation. His first act was to substitute in the great towns his own troops, men who knew no law but the will of their chief, for the Walloon garrisons, who might naturally have some sympathy with their countrymen. His next was to construct some fortresses, under the direction of one of the ablest engineers in Europe. The hour had come when, in the language of the prince of Orange, his countrymen were to be bridled by the Spaniard.

[Sidenote: POLICY OF THE DUKE.]

The conduct of Alva's soldiers underwent an ominous change. Instead of the discipline observed on the march, they now indulged in the most reckless licence. "One hears everywhere," writes a Fleming of the time, "of the oppressions of the Spaniards. Confiscation is going on to the right and left. If a man has anything to lose, they set him down at once as a heretic."[971] If the writer may be thought to have borrowed something from his fears,[972] it cannot be doubted that the panic was general in the country. Men emigrated by thousands and tens of thousands, carrying with them to other lands the arts and manufactures which had so long been the boast and the source of prosperity of the Netherlands.[973] Those who remained were filled with a dismal apprehension,--a boding of coming evil, as they beheld the heavens darkening around them, and the signs of the tempest at hand.

A still deeper gloom lay upon Brussels, once the gayest city in the Netherlands,--now the residence of Alva. All business was suspended. Places of public resort were unfrequented. The streets were silent and deserted. Several of the nobles and wealthier citizens had gone to their estates in the country, to watch there the aspect of events.[974] Most of the courtiers who remained--the gilded insects that loved the sunshine--had left the regent's palace, and gone to pay their homage to her rival at Culemborg House. There everything went merrily as in the gayest time of Brussels. For the duke strove, by brilliant entertainments and festivities, to amuse the nobles and dissipate the gloom of the capital.[975]

In all this Alva had a deeper motive than met the public eye. He was carrying out the policy which he had recommended to Philip. By courteous and conciliatory manners he hoped to draw around him the great nobles, especially such as had been at all mixed up with the late revolutionary movements. Of these, Egmont was still at Brussels; but Hoorne had withdrawn to his estates at Weert.[976] Hoogstraten was in Germany with the prince of Orange. As to the latter, Alva, as he wrote to the king, could not flatter himself with the hope of his return.[977]

The duke and his son Ferdinand both wrote to Count Hoorne in the most friendly terms, inviting him to come to Brussels.[978] But this distrustful nobleman still kept aloof. Alva, in a conversation with the count's secretary, expressed the warmest solicitude for the health of his master. He had always been his friend, he said, and had seen with infinite regret that the count's services were no better appreciated by the king.[979] But Philip was a good prince, and if slow to recompense, the count would find him not ungrateful. Could the duke but see the count, he had that to say which would content him. He would find he was not forgotten by his friends.[980] This last assurance had a terrible significance. Hoorne yielded at length to an invitation couched in terms so flattering. With Hoogstraten, Alva was not so fortunate. His good genius, or the counsel of Orange, saved him from the snare, and kept him in Germany.[981]

Having nothing further to gain by delay, Alva determined to proceed at once to the execution of his scheme. On the ninth of September the council of state was summoned to meet at Culemborg House. Egmont and Hoorne were present; and two or three of the officers, among them Paciotti, the engineer, were invited to discuss a plan of fortification for some of the Flemish cities. In the mean time, strong guards had been posted at all the avenues of the house, and cavalry drawn together from the country and established in the suburbs.

The duke prolonged the meeting until information was privately communicated to him of the arrest of Backerzele, Egmont's secretary, and Van Stralen, the burgomaster of Antwerp. The former was a person of great political sagacity, and deep in the confidence of Egmont; the latter, the friend of Orange, with whom he was still in constant correspondence. The arrest of Backerzele, who resided in Brussels, was made without difficulty, and possession was taken of his papers. Van Stralen was surrounded by a body of horse, as he was driving out of Antwerp in his carriage; and both of the unfortunate gentlemen were brought prisoners to Culemborg House.

[Sidenote: ARREST OF EGMONT AND HOORNE.]

As soon as these tidings were conveyed to Alva, he broke up the meeting of the council. Then, entering into conversation with Egmont, he strolled with him through the adjoining rooms, in one of which was a small body of soldiers. As the two nobles entered the apartment, Sancho Davila, the captain of the duke's guard, went up to Egmont, and in the king's name demanded his sword, telling him at the same time he was his prisoner.[982] The count, astounded by the proceeding, and seeing himself surrounded by soldiers, made no attempt at resistance, but calmly, and with much dignity in his manner, gave up his sword, saying at the same time, "It has done the king service more than once."[983] And well might he say so; for with that sword he had won the fields of Gravelines and St. Quentin.[984]

Hoorne fell into a similar ambuscade, in another part of the palace, whither he was drawn while conversing with the duke's son Ferdinand de Toledo, who, according to his father's account, had the whole merit of arranging this little drama.[985] Neither did the admiral make any resistance; but, on learning Egmont's fate, yielded himself up, saying "he had no right to expect to fare better than his friend."[986]

It now became a question as to the disposal of the prisoners. Culemborg House was clearly no fitting place for their confinement. Alva caused several castles in the neighborhood of Brussels to be examined, but they were judged insecure. He finally decided on Ghent. The strong fortress of this city was held by one of Egmont's own partisans; but an order was obtained from the count requiring him to deliver up the keys into the hands of Ulloa, one of Alva's most trusted captains, who, at the head of a corps of Spanish veterans, marched to Ghent, and relieved the Walloon garrison of their charge. Ulloa gave proof of his vigilance, immediately on his arrival, by seizing a heavy wagon loaded with valuables belonging to Egmont, as it was leaving the castle gate.[987]

Having completed these arrangements, the duke lost no time in sending the two lords, under a strong military escort, to Ghent. Two companies of mounted arquebusiers rode in the front. A regiment of Spanish infantry, which formed the centre, guarded the prisoners; one of whom, Egmont, was borne in a litter carried by mules, while Hoorne was in his own carriage. The rear was brought up by three companies of light horse.

Under this strong guard the unfortunate nobles were conducted through the province where Egmont had lately ruled "with an authority," writes Alva's secretary, "greater even than that of the king."[988] But no attempt was made at a rescue; and as the procession entered the gates of Ghent, where Egmont's popularity was equal to his power, the people gazed in stupefied silence on the stern array that was conducting their lord to the place of his confinement.[989]

The arrest of Egmont and Hoorne was known, in a few hours after it took place, to every inhabitant of Brussels; and the tidings soon spread to the furthest parts of the country. "The imprisonment of the lords," writes Alva to the king, "has caused no disturbance. The tranquillity is such that your majesty would hardly credit it."[990] True; but the tranquillity was that of a man stunned by a heavy blow. If murmurs were not loud, however, they were deep. Men mourned over the credulity of the two counts, who had so blindly fallen into the snare, and congratulated one another on the forecast of the prince of Orange, who might one day have the power to avenge them.[991] The event gave a new spur to emigration. In the space of a few weeks no loss than twenty thousand persons are said to have fled the country.[992] And the exiles were not altogether drawn from the humbler ranks; for no one, however high, could feel secure when he saw the blow aimed at men like Egmont and Hoorne, the former of whom, if he had given some cause of distrust, had long since made his peace with the government.

Count Mansfeldt made haste to send his son out of the country, lest the sympathy he had once shown for the confederates, notwithstanding his recent change of opinion, might draw on him the vengeance of Alva. The old count, whose own loyalty could not be impeached, boldly complained of the arrest of the lords as an infringement on the rights of the Toison d'Or, which body alone had cognizance of the causes that concerned their order, intimating, at the same time, his intention to summon a meeting of the members. But he was silenced by Alva, who plainly told him, that, if the chevaliers of the order did meet, and said so much as the credo, he would bring them to a heavy reckoning for it. As to the rights of the Toison, his majesty has pronounced on them, said the duke, and nothing remains for you but to submit.[993]

The arrest and imprisonment of the two highest nobles in the land, members of the council of state, and that without any communication with her, was an affront to the regent which she could not brook. It was in vain that Alva excused it by saying it had been done by the order of the king, who wished to spare his sister the unpopularity which must attach to such a proceeding. Margaret made no reply. She did not complain. She was too deeply wounded to complain. But she wrote to Philip, asking him to consider "whether it could be advantageous to him, or decorous for her, whom he did not disdain to call his sister, that she should remain longer in a place of which the authority was so much abridged, or rather annihilated."[994] She sent her secretary, Machiavelli, with her despatches, requesting an immediate reply from Philip, and adding that, if it were delayed, she should take silence for assent, and forthwith leave the country.

[Sidenote: THE COUNCIL OF BLOOD.]

The duke of Alva was entirely resigned to the proposed departure of Margaret. However slight the restraint her presence might impose on his conduct, it exacted more deference than was convenient, and compelled him to consult appearances. Now that he had shown his hand, he was willing to play it out boldly to the end. His first step, after the arrest of the lords, was to organize that memorable tribunal for inquiring into the troubles of the country, which has no parallel in history save the revolutionary tribunal of the French republic. The duke did not shrink from assuming the sole responsibility of his measures. He said, "it was better for the king to postpone his visit to the Netherlands, so that his ministers might bear alone the odium of these rigorous acts. When these had been performed, he might come like a gracious prince, dispensing promises and pardon."[995]

This admirable coolness must be referred in part to Alva's consciousness that his policy would receive the unqualified sanction of his master. Indeed, his correspondence shows that all he had done in the Low Countries was in accordance with a plan preconcerted with Philip. The arrest of the Flemish lords, accordingly, gave entire satisfaction at the court of Madrid, where it was looked on as the first great step in the measures of redress. It gave equal contentment to the court of Rome, where it was believed that the root of heresy was to be reached only by the axe of the executioner. Yet there was one person at that court of more penetration than those around him, the old statesman, Granvelle, who, when informed of the arrest of Egmont and Hoorne, inquired if the duke had "also drawn into his net the Silent one,"--as the prince of Orange was popularly called. On being answered in the negative, "Then," said the cardinal, "if he has not caught him, he has caught nothing."[996]

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