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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 30

THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1578

By John Lothrop Motley

1855



CHAPTER V.

     Towns taken by Don John--Wrath excited against the aristocratic
     party by the recent defeat--Attempts upon Amsterdam--"Satisfaction"
     of Amsterdam and its effects--De Selles sent with royal letters from
     Spain--Terms offered by Philip--Proclamation of Don John--
     Correspondence between de Selles and the States-General--Between the
     King and the Governor-General--New forces raised by the States--St.
     Aldegonde at the Diet--Municipal revolution in Amsterdam--The
     Prince's letter on the subject of the Anabaptists of Middelburg--
     The two armies inactive--De la None--Action at Rijnemants--John
     Casimir--Perverse politics of Queen Elizabeth--Alencon in the
     Netherlands--Portrait of the Duke--Orange's position in regard to
     him--Avowed and supposed policy of the French court--Anger of
     Elizabeth--Terms arranged between Alencon and the Estates--Renewed
     negotiations with Don John--Severe terms offered him--Interview of
     the English envoys with the Governor--Despondency of Don John--
     Orange's attempts to enforce a religious peace--His isolation in
     sentiment--The malcontent party--Count John Governor of Gelderland
     --Proposed form of religious peace--Proclamation to that effect by
     Orange, in Antwerp--A petition in favor of the Roman Church
     presented by Champagny and other Catholic nobles to the States--
     General--Consequent commotion in Brussels--Champagny and others
     imprisoned--Indolence and poverty of the two armies--Illness and
     melancholy of Don John--His letters to Doria, to Mendoza, and to the
     King--Death of Don John--Suspicions of poison--Pompous burial--
     Removal of his body to Spain--Concluding remarks upon his character.

Don John having thus vindicated his own military fame and the amazing
superiority of the Spanish arms, followed up his victory by the rapid
reduction of many towns of second-rate importance Louvain, Judoigne,
Tirlemont, Aerschot, Bauvignes, Sichem, Nivelle, Roeux, Soignies, Binch,
Beaumont, Walcourt, Tviaubeuge, and Chimay, either submitted to their
conqueror, or were taken after short sieges.  The usual atrocities were
inflicted upon the unfortunate inhabitants of towns where resistance was
attempted.  The commandant of Sichem was hanged out of his own window,
along with several chief burghers and officers, while the garrison was
put to the sword, and the bodies cast into the Denver.  The only crime
committed by these unfortunates was to have ventured a blow or two in
behalf of the firesides which they were employed to protect.

In Brussels, on the other hand, there was less consternation excited by
these events than boundless rage against the aristocratic party, for the
defeat of Gemblours was attributed, with justice, to the intrigues and
the incapacity of the Catholic magnates.  It was with difficulty that
Orange, going about by night from house to house, from street to street,
succeeded in calming the indignation of the people, and in preventing
them from sweeping in a mass to the residence of the leading nobles, in
order to inflict summary vengeance on the traitors.  All looked to the
Prince as their only saviour, not a thought nor a word being wasted upon
Matthias.  Not a voice was raised in the assembly to vindicate the secret
proceedings of the Catholic party, nor to oppose the measures which the
Prince might suggest.  The terrible disaster had taught the necessity of
union.  All parties heartily joined in the necessary steps to place the
capital in a state of complete defence, and to assemble forthwith new
troops to take the place of the army just annihilated.  The victor gained
nothing by his victory, in comparison with the profit acquired by the
states through their common misfortune.  Nor were all the towns which
had recently fallen into the hands of Don John at all comparable in
importance to the city of Amsterdam, which now, by a most timely
arrangement, furnished a rich compensation to the national party for the
disaster of Gemblours.

Since the conclusion of the Ghent Pacification, it had been the most
earnest wish of the Prince, and of Holland and Zealand, to recover
possession of this most important city.  The wish was naturally shared
by every true patriot in the states-general.  It had, however, been
extremely difficult to arrange the terms of the "Satisfaction."  Every
fresh attempt at an amicable compromise was wrecked upon the obstinate
bigotry of the leading civic authorities.  They would make no agreement
to accept the authority of Orange, except, as Saint Aldegonde expressed
himself; upon terms which would enable them "to govern their governor."
The influence of the monks, who were resident in large numbers within the
city, and of the magistrates, who were all stanch Catholics, had been
hitherto sufficient to outweigh the efforts made by the large masses of
the Reformed religionists composing the bulk of the population.  It was,
however, impossible to allow Amsterdam to remain in this isolated and
hostile attitude to the rest of Holland.  The Prince, having promised to
use no coercion, and loyally adhering to his pledge, had only with
extreme difficulty restrained the violence of the Hollanders and
Zealanders, who were determined, by fair means or foul, to restore the
capital city to its natural place within his stadholderate.  He had been
obliged, on various occasions, particularly on the 21st of October of the
preceding year, to address a most decided and peremptory letter to the
estates of Holland and Zealand, forbidding the employment of hostile
measures against Amsterdam.  His commands had been reluctantly,
partially, and only temporarily obeyed.  The states desisted from
their scheme of reducing the city by famine, but they did not the less
encourage the secret and unofficial expeditions which were daily set on
foot to accomplish the annexation by a sudden enterprise.

Late in November, a desperate attempt had been made by Colonel Helling,
in conjunction with Governor Sonoy, to carry the city by surprise.  The
force which the adventurer collected for the purpose was inadequate, and
his plans were unskilfully arranged.  He was himself slain in the
streets, at the very commencement of the action; whereupon, in the quaint
language of the contemporary chronicler, "the hearts of his soldiers sank
in their shoes," and they evacuated the city with much greater rapidity
than they had entered it.  The Prince was indignant at these violent
measures, which retarded rather than advanced the desired consummation.
At the same time it was an evil of immense magnitude--this anomalous
condition of his capital.  Ceaseless schemes were concerted by the
municipal and clerical conspirators within its walls, and various
attempts were known, at different times, to have been contemplated by Don
John, to inflict a home-thrust upon the provinces of Holland and Zealand
at the most vulnerable and vital point.  The "Satisfaction" accepted by
Utrecht, in the autumn of 1577, had, however, paved the way for the
recovery of Amsterdam; so that upon February the 8th, 1578, certain
deputies from Utrecht succeeded at last in arranging terms, which were
accepted by the sister city.  The basis of the treaty was, as usual,
the nominal supremacy of the Catholic religion, with toleration for the
Reformed worship.  The necessary effect would be, as in Harlem, Utrecht,
and other places, to establish the new religion upon an entire equality
with the old.  It was arranged that no congregations were to be disturbed
in their religious exercises in the places respectively assigned to them.
Those of the Reformed faith were to celebrate their worship without the
walls.  They were, however, to enjoy the right of burying their dead
within these precincts, and it is singular how much importance was
attached at that day to a custom, at which the common sentiment and the
common sense of modern times revolt.  "To bury our dead within our own
cities is a right hardly to be denied to a dog," said the Prince of
Orange; and accordingly this right was amply secured by the new
Satisfaction of Amsterdam.  It was, however, stipulated that the funerals
should be modest, and attended by no more than twenty-four persons at
once.  The treaty was hailed with boundless joy in Holland and Zealand,
while countless benedictions were invoked upon the "blessed peace-
makers," as the Utrecht deputies walked through the streets of Amsterdam.
There is no doubt that the triumph thus achieved by the national party
far counterbalanced the Governor-General's victory at Gemblours.

Meantime, the Seigneur de Selles, brother of the deceased Noircarmes, had
arrived from Spain.  He was the special bearer of a letter from the King
to the states-general, written in reply to their communications of the
24th of August and 8th of September of the previous year.  The tone of
the royal despatch was very affectionate, the substance such as entirely
to justify the whole policy of Orange.  It was obvious that the
penetrating and steadfast statesman had been correct in refusing to be
moved to the right or the left by the specious language of Philip's
former letters, or by the apparent frankness of Don John.  No doubt the
Governor had been sincere in his desire for peace, but the Prince knew
very well his incapacity to confer that blessing.  The Prince knew--what
no man else appeared fully to comprehend at that epoch--that the mortal
combat between the Inquisition and the Reformation was already fully
engaged.  The great battle between divine reason and right divine, on
which the interests of unborn generations were hanging, was to be fought
out, before the eyes of all Christendom, on the plain of the Netherlands.

Orange was willing to lay down his arms if he could receive security for
the Reformed worship.  He had no desire to exterminate the ancient
religion, but he meant also to protect the new against extermination.
Such security, he felt, would never be granted, and he had therefore
resolutely refused to hearken to Don John, for he was sure that peace
with him was impossible.  The letters now produced by De Selles confirmed
his positions completely.  The King said not a word concerning the
appointment of a new governor-general, but boldly insisted upon the
necessity of maintaining the two cardinal points--his royal supremacy,
and the Catholic religion upon the basis adopted by his father, the
Emperor Charles the Fifth.

This was the whole substance of his communication: the supremacy of
royalty and of papacy as in the time of Charles the Fifth.  These
cabalistic words were repeated twice in the brief letter to the estates.
They were repeated five times in the instructions furnished by his
Majesty to De Selles.  The letter and the instructions indeed contained
nothing else.  Two simples were offered for the cure of the body politic,
racked by the fever and convulsion of ten horrible years--two simples
which the patient could hardly be so unreasonable as to reject--unlimited
despotism and religious persecution.  The whole matter lay in a nut-
shell, but it was a nut-shell which enclosed the flaming edicts of
Charles the Fifth, with their scaffolds, gibbets, racks, and funeral
piles.  The Prince and the states-general spurned such pacific overtures,
and preferred rather to gird themselves for the combat.

That there might be no mistake about the matter, Don John, immediately
after receiving the letter, issued a proclamation to enforce the King's
command.  He mentioned it as an acknowledged fact that the states-general
had long ago sworn the maintenance of the two points of royal and
Catholic supremacy, according to the practice under the Emperor Charles.
The states instantly published an indignant rejoinder, affirming the
indisputable truth, that they had sworn to the maintenance of the Ghent
Pacification, and proclaiming the assertion of Don John an infamous
falsehood.  It was an outrage upon common sense, they said, that the
Ghent treaty could be tortured into sanctioning the placards and the
Inquisition, evils which that sacred instrument had been expressly
intended to crush.

A letter was then formally addressed to his Majesty, in the name of the
Archduke Matthias--and of the estates, demanding the recal of Don John
and the, maintenance of the Ghent Pacification.  De Seller, in reply,
sent a brief, deprecatory paper, enclosing a note from Don John, which
the envoy acknowledged might seem somewhat harsh in its expressions.  The
letter contained, indeed, a sufficiently fierce and peremptory summons to
the states to obey the King's commands with regard to the system of
Charles the Fifth, according to their previous agreement, together with a
violent declaration of the Governor's displeasure that they had dared to
solicit the aid of foreign princes.  On the 18th of February came a
proposition from De Seller that the Prince, of Orange should place
himself in the hands of Don John, while the Prince of Parma, alone and
without arms, would come before the assembly, to negotiate with them upon
these matters.  The reply returned by the states-general to this absurd
suggestion expressed their regret that the son of the Duchess Margaret
should have taken part with the enemy of the Netherlanders, complained of
the bull by which the Pope had invited war against them as if they had
been Saracens, repeated their most unanswerable argument--that the Ghent
Pacification had established a system directly the reverse of that which
existed under Charles the Fifth--and affirmed their resolution never more
to submit to Spanish armies, executioners, edicts, or inquisitions, and
never more to return to the principles of the Emperor and of Alva.  To
this diplomatic correspondence succeeded a war of words and of pamphlets,
some of them very inflammatory and very eloquent.  Meantime, the
preparations for active hostilities were proceeding daily.  The Prince of
Orange, through his envoys in England, had arranged for subsidies in the
coming campaign, and for troops which were to be led to the Netherlands,
under Duke Casimir of the palatinate.  He sent commissioners through the
provinces to raise the respective contributions agreed upon, besides an
extraordinary quota of four hundred thousand guilders monthly.  He also
negotiated a loan of a hundred and twenty thousand guilders from the
citizens of Antwerp.  Many new taxes were imposed by his direction, both
upon income and upon consumption.  By his advice, however, and with the
consent of the states-general, the provinces of Holland and Zealand held
no community of burthens with the other provinces, but of their own free
will contributed more than the sums for which they would have been
assessed.  Mr. Leyton, who was about to return from his unsuccessful
mission from Elizabeth to Don John, was requested by the states-general
to convey to her Majesty a faithful report of the recent correspondence,
and especially of the language held by the Governor-General.  He was also
urged to use his influence with the Queen, to the end that her promises
of assistance might be speedily fulfilled.

Troops were rapidly enrolled, and again, by the same honest but mistaken
policy, the chief offices were conferred upon the great nobles--Aerschot,
Champagny, Bossu, Egmont, Lalain, the Viscount of Ghent, Baron de Ville,
and many others, most of whom were to desert the cause in the hour of its
need.  On the other hand, Don John was proceeding with his military
preparations upon an extensive scale.  The King had recently furnished
him with one million nine hundred thousand dollars, and had promised to
provide him with two hundred thousand more, monthly.  With these funds
his Majesty estimated that an army of thirty thousand foot, sixteen
thousand cavalry, and thirty pieces of artillery, could be levied and
kept on foot.  If more remittances should prove to be necessary, it was
promised that they should be forthcoming.

This was the result of many earnest remonstrances made by the Governor
concerning the dilatory policy of the King.  Wearied with being
constantly ordered "to blow hot and cold with the same, breath," he had
insisted that his Majesty should select the hot or the cold, and furnish
him with the means of enforcing the choice.  For himself, Don John
assured his brother that the hottest measures were most to his taste, and
most suitable to the occasion.  Fire and sword could alone save the royal
authority, for all the provinces had "abandoned themselves, body and
soul, to the greatest heretic and tyrant that prince ever had for
vassal."  Unceasing had been the complaints and entreaties of the
Captain-General, called forth by the apathy or irresolution of Philip.
It was--only by assuring him that the Netherlands actually belonged to
Orange, that the monarch could be aroused.  "His they are; and none
other's," said the Governor, dolefully.  The King had accordingly sent
back De Billy, Don John's envoy; with decided injunctions to use force
and energy to put down the revolt at once, and with an intimation that
funds might be henceforth more regularly depended upon, as the Indian
fleets were expected in July.  Philip also advised his brother to employ
a portion of his money in purchasing the governors and principal persons
who controlled the cities and other strong places belonging to the
states.

Meantime, Don John thundered forth a manifesto which had been recently
prepared in Madrid, by which the estates, both general and particular,
were ordered forthwith to separate, and forbidden to assemble again,
except by especial licence.  All commissions, civil or military, granted
by states' authority, were moreover annulled, together with a general
prohibition of any act of obedience to such functionaries, and of
contribution to any imposts which might be levied by their authority.
Such thunders were now comparatively harmless, for the states had taken
their course, and were busily engaged, both at home and abroad, in arming
for the conflict.  Saint Aldegonde was deputed to attend the Imperial
diet, then in session at Worms, where he delivered an oration, which was
very celebrated in its day as a composition, but, which can hardly be
said to have produced much practical effect.  The current was setting
hard in Germany against the Reformed religion and against the Netherland
cause, the Augsburg Confessionists showing hardly more sympathy with
Dutch Calvinists than with Spanish Papists.

Envoys from Don John also attended the diet, and requested Saint
Aldegonde to furnish them with a copy of his oration.  This he declined
to do.  While in Germany, Saint Aldegonde was informed by John Casimir
that Duke Charles of Sweden, had been solicited to furnish certain ships
of war for a contemplated operation against Amsterdam.  The Duke had
himself given information of this plot to the Prince Palatine.  It was
therefore natural that Saint Aldegonde should forthwith despatch the
intelligence to his friends in the Netherlands, warning them of the
dangers still to be apprehended from the machinations of the Catholic
agents and functionaries in Amsterdam; for although the Reformation had
made rapid progress in that important city since the conclusion of the
Satisfaction, yet the magistracy remained Catholic.

William Bardez, son of a former high-sheriff, a warm partisan of
Orange and of the "religion," had already determined to overthrow that
magistracy and to expel the friars who infested the city.  The recent
information despatched by Saint Aldegonde confirmed him in his purpose.
There had been much wrangling between the Popish functionaries and those
of the Reformed religion concerning the constitution of the burgher
guard.  The Calvinists could feel no security for their own lives,
or the repose of the commonwealth of Holland, unless they were themselves
allowed a full participation in the government of those important bands.
They were, moreover, dissatisfied with the assignment which had been made
of the churchyards to the members of their communion.  These causes of
discord had maintained a general irritation among the body of the
inhabitants, and were now used as pretexts by Bardez for his design.
He knew the city to be ripe for the overthrow of the magistracy, and he
had arranged with Governor Sonoy to be furnished with a sufficient number
of well-tried soldiers, who were to be concealed in the houses of the
confederates.  A large number of citizens were also ready to appear at
his bidding with arms in their hands.

On the 24th of May, he wrote to Sonoy, begging him to hold himself in
readiness, as all was prepared within the city.  At the same time, he
requested the governor to send him forthwith a "morion and a buckler of
proof;" for, he intended to see the matter fairly through.  Sonoy
answered encouragingly, and sent him the armor, as directed.  On the 28th
of May, Bardez, with four confederates, went to the council-room, to
remonstrate with the senate concerning the grievances which had been so
often discussed.  At about mid-day, one of the confederates, upon leaving
the council-room, stepped out for a moment upon the balcony, which looked
towards the public square.  Standing there for a moment, he gravely
removed his hat, and then as gravely replaced it upon his head.  This was
a preconcerted signal.  At the next instant a sailor was seen to rush
across the square, waving a flag in both hands.  "All ye who love the
Prince of Orange, take heart and follow me!"  he shouted.  In a moment
the square was alive.  Soldiers and armed citizens suddenly sprang forth,
as if from the bowels of the earth.  Bardez led a strong force directly
into the council-chamber, and arrested every one of the astonished
magistrates.  At the same time, his confederates had scoured the town and
taken every friar in the city into custody.  Monks and senators were then
marched solemnly down towards the quay, where a vessel was in readiness
to receive them.  "To the gallows with them--to the gallows with them!"
shouted the populace, as they passed along.  "To the gibbet, whither they
have brought many a good fellow before his time!"  Such were the openly,
expressed desires of their fellow-citizens, as these dignitaries and holy
men proceeded to what they believed their doom.  Although treated
respectfully by those who guarded them, they were filled with
trepidation, for they believed the execrations of the populace the
harbingers of their fate.  As they entered the vessel, they felt
convinced that a watery death had been substituted for the gibbet.
Poor old Heinrich Dirckzoon, ex-burgomaster, pathetically rejected a
couple of clean shirts which his careful wife had sent him by the hands
of the housemaid.  "Take them away; take them home again," said the
rueful burgomaster; "I shall never need clean shirts again in this
world."  He entertained no doubt that it was the intention of his
captors to scuttle the vessel as soon as they had put a little out
to sea, and so to leave them to their fate.  No such tragic end was
contemplated, however, and, in fact, never was a complete municipal
revolution accomplished in so good-natured and jocose a manner.  The
Catholic magistrates and friars escaped with their fright.  They were
simply turned out of town, and forbidden, for their lives, ever to come
back again.  After the vessel had proceeded a little distance from the
city, they were all landed high and dry upon a dyke, and so left unharmed
within the open country.

A new board of magistrates, of which stout William Bardez was one, was
soon appointed; the train-bands were reorganized, and the churches thrown
open to the Reformed worship--to the exclusion, at first, of the
Catholics.  This was certainly contrary to the Ghent treaty, and to the
recent Satisfaction; it was also highly repugnant to the opinions of
Orange.  After a short time, accordingly, the Catholics were again
allowed access to the churches, but the tables had now been turned for
ever in the capital of Holland, and the Reformation was an established
fact throughout that little province.

Similar events occurring upon the following day at Harlem, accompanied
with some bloodshed--for which, however, the perpetrator was punished
with death--opened the great church of that city to the Reformed
congregations, and closed them for a time to the Catholics.

Thus, the cause of the new religion was triumphant in Holland and
Zealand, while it was advancing with rapid strides through the other
provinces.  Public preaching was of daily occurrence everywhere.  On a
single Sunday; fifteen different ministers of the Reformed religion
preached in different places in Antwerp.  "Do you think this can be
put down?"  said Orange to the remonstrating burgomaster of that city.
"'Tis for you to repress it," said the functionary, "I grant your
Highness full power to do so."  "And do you think," replied the Prince,
"that I can do at this late moment, what the Duke of Alva was unable to
accomplish in the very plenitude of his power?"  At the same time, the
Prince of Orange was more than ever disposed to rebuke his own Church for
practising persecution in her turn.  Again he lifted his commanding voice
in behalf of the Anabaptists of Middelburg.  He reminded the magistrates
of that city that these peaceful burghers were always perfectly willing
to bear their part in all the common burthens, that their word was as
good as their oath, and that as to the matter of military service,
although their principles forbade them to bear arms, they had ever been
ready to provide and pay for substitutes.  "We declare to you therefore,"
said he, "that you have no right to trouble yourselves with any man's
conscience, so long as nothing is done to cause private harm or public
scandal.  We therefore expressly ordain that you desist from molesting
these Baptists, from offering hindrance to their handicraft and daily
trade, by which they can earn bread for their wives and children, and
that you permit them henceforth to open their shops and to do their work,
according to the custom of former days.  Beware, therefore, of
disobedience and of resistance to the ordinance which we now establish."

Meantime, the armies on both sides had been assembled, and had been
moving towards each other.  Don John was at the head of nearly thirty
thousand troops, including a large proportion of Spanish and Italian
veterans.  The states' army hardly numbered eighteen thousand foot and
two thousand cavalry, under the famous Francois de la None, surnamed Bras
de Fer, who had been recently appointed Marechal de Camp, and, under
Count Bossu, commander-in-chief.  The muster-place of the provincial
forces was in the plains between Herenthals and Lier.  At this point they
expected to be reinforced by Duke Casimir, who had been, since the early
part of the summer, in the country of Zutfen, but who was still remaining
there inglorious and inactive, until he could be furnished with the
requisite advance-money to his troops.  Don John was determined if
possible, to defeat the states army, before Duke Casimir, with his twelve
thousand Germans, should effect his juncture with Bossu.  The Governor
therefore crossed the Demer, near Aerschot, towards the end of July, and
offered battle, day after day, to the enemy.  A series of indecisive
skirmishes was the result, in the last of which, near Rijnemants, on the
first day of August, the royalists were worsted and obliged to retire,
after a desultory action of nearly eight hours, leaving a thousand dead.
upon the field.   Their offer of "double or quits," the following morning
was steadily refused by Bossu, who, secure within his intrenchments, was
not to be induced at that moment to encounter the chances of a general
engagement.  For this he was severely blamed by the more violent of the
national party.

His patriotism, which was of such recent origin, was vehemently
suspected; and his death, which occurred not long afterwards, was
supposed to have alone prevented his deserting the states to fight again
under Spanish colours.  These suspicions were probably unjust.  Bossu's
truth of character had been as universally recognized as was his signal
bravery.  If he refused upon this occasion a general battle, those
who reflected upon the usual results to the patriot banner of such
engagements, might confess, perhaps, that one disaster the more had been
avoided.  Don John, finding it impossible to accomplish his purpose, and
to achieve another Gemblours victory, fell back again to the
neighbourhood of Namur.

The states' forces remained waiting for the long-promised succor of John
Casimir.  It was the 26th of August, however, before the Duke led his
twelve thousand men to the neighbourhood of Mechlin, where Bossu was
encamped.  This young prince possessed neither the ability nor the
generosity which were requisite for the heroic part which he was
ambitious to perform in the Netherland drama.  He was inspired by a vague
idea of personal aggrandizement, although he professed at the same time
the utmost deference to William of Orange.  He expressed the hope that he
and the Prince "should be but two heads under one hat;" but he would have
done well to ask himself whether his own contribution to this partnership
of brains would very much enrich the silent statesman.  Orange himself
regarded him with respectful contempt, and considered his interference
with Netherland matters but as an additional element of mischief.  The
Duke's right hand man, however, Peter Peutterich, the "equestrian
doctor"--as Sir Philip Sydney called him--equally skilful with the sword
as with the pen, had succeeded, while on a mission to England, in
acquiring the Queen's favor for his master.  To Casimir, therefore, had
been entrusted the command of the levies, and the principal expenditure
of the subsidies which she had placed at the disposition of the states.
Upon Casimir she relied, as a counterweight to the Duke of Alencon, who,
as she knew, had already entered the provinces at the secret solicitation
of a large faction among the nobles.  She had as much confidence as ever
in Orange, but she imagined herself to be strengthening his cause by
providing him with such a lieutenant.  Casimir's immediate friends had
but little respect for his abilities.  His father-in-law, Augustus of
Saxony, did not approve his expedition.  The Landgrave William, to whom
he wrote for counsel, answered, in his quaint manner, that it was always
difficult for one friend to advise another in three matters--to wit, in
taking a wife, going to sea, and going to war; but that, nevertheless,
despite the ancient proverb, he would assume the responsibility of
warning Casimir not to plunge into what he was pleased to call the
"'confusum chaos' of Netherland politics."  The Duke felt no inclination,
however, to take the advice which he had solicited.  He had been stung by
the sarcasm which Alva had once uttered, that the German potentates
carried plenty of lions, dragons, eagles, and griffins on their shields;
but that these ferocious animals were not given to biting or scratching.
He was therefore disposed, once for all, to show that the teeth and claws
of German princes could still be dangerous.  Unfortunately, he was
destined to add a fresh element of confusion to the chaos, and to furnish
rather a proof than a refutation of the correctness of Alva's gibe.

This was the hero who was now thrust, head and shoulders as it were, into
the entangled affairs of the Netherlanders, and it was Elizabeth of
England, more than ever alarmed at the schemes of Alencon, who had pushed
forward this Protestant champion, notwithstanding the disinclination of
Orange.

The Queen was right in her uneasiness respecting the French prince.  The
Catholic nobles, relying upon the strong feeling still rife throughout
the Walloon country against the Reformed religion, and inflamed more than
ever by their repugnance to Orange, whose genius threw them so completely
into the shade, had already drawn closer to the Duke.  The same
influences were at work to introduce Alencon, which had formerly been
employed to bring Matthias from Vienna.  Now that the Archduke, who was
to have been the rival, had become the dependent of William, they turned
their attention to the son of Catherine de Medici, Orange himself having
always kept the Duke in reserve, as an instrument to overcome the
political coquetry of Elizabeth.  That great Princess never manifested
less greatness than in her earlier and most tormenting connexion with the
Netherlands.  Having allured them for years with bright but changeful
face, she still looked coldly down upon the desolate sea where they were
drifting She had promised much; her performance had been nothing.  Her
jealousy of French influence had at length been turned to account; a
subsidy and a levy extorted from her fears.  Her ministers and prominent
advisers were one and all in favor of an open and generous support to the
provinces.  Walsingham, Burleigh, Knollys, Davidson, Sidney, Leicester,
Fleetwood, Wilson, all desired that she should frankly espouse their
cause.  A bold policy they believed to be the only prudent one in this
case; yet the Queen considered it sagacious to despatch envoys both to
Philip and to Don John, as if after what they knew of her secret
practices, such missions could effect any useful purpose.  Better,
therefore, in the opinion of the honest and intrepid statesmen of
England, to throw down the gauntlet at once in the cause of the oppressed
than to shuffle and palter until the dreaded rival should cross the
frontier.  A French Netherlands they considered even mere dangerous than
a Spanish, and Elizabeth partook of their sentiments, although incapable
of their promptness.  With the perverseness which was the chief blot upon
her character, she was pleased that the Duke should be still a dangler
for her hand, even while she was intriguing against his political hopes.
She listened with undisguised rapture to his proposal of love, while she
was secretly thwarting the plans of his ambition.

Meanwhile, Alencon had arrived at Mons, and we have seen already the
feminine adroitness with which his sister of Navarre had prepared his
entrance.  Not in vain had she cajoled the commandant of Cambray citadel;
not idly had she led captive the hearts of Lalain and his Countess, thus
securing the important province of Hainault for the Duke.  Don John
might, indeed, gnash his teeth with rage, as he marked the result of all
the feasting and flattery, the piping and dancing at Namur.

Francis Duke of Alencon, and since the accession of his brother Henry to
the French throne--Duke of Anjou was, upon the whole, the most despicable
personage who had ever entered the Netherlands.  His previous career at
home had, been so flagrantly false that he had forfeited the esteem of
every honest man in Europe, Catholic or Lutheran, Huguenot or Malcontent.
The world has long known his character.  History will always retain him
as an example, to show mankind the amount of mischief which may be
perpetrated by a prince, ferocious without courage, ambitious without
talent, and bigoted without opinions.  Incapable of religious convictions
himself, he had alternately aspired to be a commander of Catholic and of
Huguenot zealots, and he had acquired nothing by his vacillating course,
save the entire contempt of all parties and of both religions.  Scared
from the aide of Navarre and Conde by the menacing attitude of the
"league," fearing to forfeit the succession to the throne, unless he made
his peace with the court, he had recently resumed his place among the
Catholic commanders.  Nothing was easier for him than to return
shamelessly to a party which he had shamelessly deserted, save perhaps to
betray it again, should his interest prompt him to do so, on the morrow.
Since the peace of 1576, it had been evident that the Protestants could
not count upon his friendship, and he had soon afterwards been placed at
the head of the army which was besieging the Huguenots of Issoire.  He
sought to atone for having commanded the troops of the new religion by
the barbarity with which he now persecuted its votaries.  When Issoire
fell into his hands, the luckless city was spared none of the misery
which can be inflicted by a brutal and frenzied soldiery.  Its men were
butchered, its females outraged; its property plundered with a
thoroughness which rivalled the Netherland practice of Alva, or Frederic
Toledo, or Julian Romero.  The town was sacked and burned to ashes by
furious Catholics, under the command of Francis Alencon,--almost at the
very moment when his fair sister, Margaret, was preparing the way in the
Netherlands for the fresh treason--which he already meditated to the
Catholic cause.  The treaty of Bergerac, signed in the autumn of 1577,
again restored a semblance of repose to France, and again afforded an
opportunity for Alencon to change his politics, and what he called his
religion.  Reeking with the blood of the Protestants of Issoire, he was
now at leisure to renew his dalliance with the Queen of Protestant
England, and to resume his correspondence with the great-chieftain of the
Reformation in the Netherlands.

It is perhaps an impeachment upon the perspicacity of Orange, that he
could tolerate this mischievous and worthless "son of France," even for
the grave reasons which influenced him.  Nevertheless, it must be
remembered that he only intended to keep him in reserve, for the purpose
of irritating the jealousy and quickening the friendship of the English
Queen.  Those who see anything tortuous in such politics must beware of
judging the intriguing age of Philip and Catherine de' Medici by the
higher standard of later, and possibly more candid times.  It would have
been puerile for a man of William the Silent's resources, to allow
himself to be outwitted by the intrigues of all the courts and cabinets
in Europe.  Moreover, it must be remembered that, if he alone could guide
himself and his country through the perplexing labyrinth in which they
were involved; it was because he held in his hand the clue of an honest
purpose.  His position in regard to the Duke of Alencon, had now become
sufficiently complicated, for the tiger that he had led in a chain had
been secretly unloosed by those who meant mischief.  In the autumn of the
previous year, the aristocratic and Catholic party in the states-general
had opened their communications with a prince, by whom they hoped to be
indemnified for their previous defeat.

The ill effects of Elizabeth's coquetry too plainly manifested themselves
at last, and Alencon had now a foothold in the Netherlands.  Precipitated
by the intrigues of the party which had always been either openly or
secretly hostile to Orange, his advent could no longer be delayed.  It
only remained for the Prince to make himself his master, as he had
already subdued each previous rival.  This he accomplished with his
customary adroitness.  It was soon obvious, even to so dull and so base a
nature as that of the Duke, that it was his best policy to continue to
cultivate so powerful a friendship.  It cost him little to crouch, but
events were fatally, to prove at a later day, that there are natures too
malignant to be trusted or to be tamed.  For the present, however,
Alencon professed the most friendly sentiments towards the Prince.
Solicited by so ardent and considerable a faction, the Duke was no longer
to be withheld from trying the venture, and if, he could not effect his
entrance by fair means, was determined to do so by force.--He would
obtrude his assistance, if it were declined.  He would do his best to
dismember the provinces, if only a portion of them would accept his
proffered friendship.  Under these circumstances, as the Prince could no
longer exclude him from the country, it became necessary to accept his
friendship, and to hold him in control.  The Duke had formally offered
his assistance to the states-general, directly after the defeat of
Gemblours, and early in July had made his appearance in Mons.  Hence he
despatched his envoys, Des Pruneaux and Rochefort, to deal with the
States-general and with Orange, while he treated Matthias with contempt,
and declared that he had no intention to negotiate with him.  The
Archduke burst into tears when informed of this slight; and feebly
expressed a wish that succor might be found in Germany which would render
this French alliance unnecessary.  It was not the first nor the last
mortification which the future Emperor was to undergo.  The Prince was
addressed with distinguished consideration; Des Pruneaux protesting that
he desired but three things--the glory of his master, the glory of God,
and the glory of William of Orange.

The French King was naturally supposed to be privy to his brother's
schemes, for it was thought ridiculous to suggest that Henry's own troops
could be led by his own brother, on this foreign expedition, without his
connivance.  At the same time, private letters, written by him at this
epoch, expressed disapprobation of the schemes of Alencon, and jealousy
of his aggrandizement.  It was, perhaps, difficult to decide as to the
precise views of a monarch who was too weak to form opinions for himself,
and too false to maintain those with which he had been furnished by
others.  With the Medicean mother it was different, and it was she who
was believed to be at the bottom of the intrigue.  There was even a vague
idea that the Spanish Sovereign himself might be privy to the plot, and
that a possible marriage between Alencon and the Infanta might be on the
cards.  In truth, however, Philip felt himself outraged by the whole
proceedings.  He resolutely refused to accept the excuses proffered by
the French court, or to doubt the complicity of the Queen Dowager, who,
it was well known, governed all her sons.  She had, to be sure, thought
proper to read the envoys of the states-general a lecture upon the
impropriety of subjects opposing the commands of their lawful Prince, but
such artifices were thought too transparent to deceive.  Granvelle
scouted the idea of her being ignorant of Anjou's scheme, or opposed to
its success.  As for William of Hesse, while he bewailed more than ever
the luckless plunge into "confusum chaos" which Casimir had taken, he
unhesitatingly expressed his conviction that the invasion of Alencon was
a master-piece of Catherine.  The whole responsibility of the transaction
he divided, in truth, between the Dowager and the comet, which just then
hung over the world, filling the soul of the excellent Landgrave with
dismal apprehension.

The Queen of England was highly incensed by the actual occurrence
of the invasion which she had so long dreaded.  She was loud in her
denunciations of the danger and dishonor which would be the result to the
provinces of this French alliance.  She threatened not only to withdraw
herself from their cause, but even to take arms against a commonwealth
which had dared to accept Alencon for its master.  She had originally
agreed to furnish one hundred thousand pounds by way of loan.  This
assistance had been afterwards commuted into a levy of three thousand
foot and-two thousand horse, to be added to the forces of John Casimir,
and to be placed under his command.  It had been stipulated; also, that
the Palatine should have the rank and pay of an English general-in-chief,
and be considered as the Queen's lieutenant.  The money had been
furnished and the troops enrolled.  So much had been already bestowed,
and could not be recalled, but it was not probable that, in her present
humor, the Queen would be induced to add to her favors.

The Prince, obliged by the necessity of the case, had prescribed the
terms and the title under which Alencon should be accepted.  Upon the
13th of August the Duke's envoy concluded a convention in twenty-three
articles; which were afterwards subscribed by the Duke himself, at Mons,
upon the twentieth of the same month.  The substance of this arrangement
was that Alencon should lend his assistance to the provinces against the
intolerable tyranny of the Spaniards and the unjustifiable military
invasion of Don John.  He was, moreover, to bring into the field ten
thousand foot and two thousand horse for three months.  After the
expiration of this term, his forces might be reduced to three thousand
foot and five hundred horse.  The states were to confer upon him the
title of "Defender of the Liberty of the Netherlands against the Tyranny
of the Spaniards and their adherents."  He was to undertake no
hostilities against Queen Elizabeth.  The states were to aid him,
whenever it should become necessary, with the same amount of force with
which he now assisted them.  He was to submit himself contentedly to the
civil government of the country, in everything regarding its internal
polity.  He was to make no special contracts or treaties with any cities
or provinces of the Netherlands.  Should the states-general accept
another prince as sovereign, the Duke was to be preferred to all others,
upon conditions afterwards to be arranged.  All cities which might be
conquered within the territory of the united provinces were to belong to
the states.  Such places not in that territory, as should voluntarily
surrender, were to be apportioned, by equal division, between the Duke
and the states.  The Duke was to bring no foreign troops but French into
the provinces.  The month of August was reserved, during which the states
were, if possible, to make a composition with Don John.

These articles were certainly drawn up with skill.  A high-sounding but
barren title, which gratified the Duke's vanity and signified nothing,
had been conferred upon him, while at the same time he was forbidden to
make conquests or contracts, and was obliged to submit himself to the
civil government of the country: in short, he was to obey the Prince
of Orange in all things--and so here was another plot of the Prince's
enemies neutralized.  Thus, for the present at least, had the position
of Anjou been defined.

As the month of August, during which it was agreed that negotiations with
the Governor-General should remain open, had already half expired,
certain articles, drawn up by the states-general, were at once laid
before Don John.  Lord Cobham and Sir Francis Walsingham were then in the
Netherlands, having been sent by Elizabeth for the purpose of effecting a
pacification of the estates with the Governor, if possible.  They had
also explained--so far as an explanation was possible--the assistance
which the English government had rendered to the rebels, upon the ground
that the French invasion could be prevented in no other way.  This
somewhat lame apology had been passed over in silence rather than
accepted by Don John.  In the same interview the envoys made an equally
unsuccessful effort to induce the acceptance by the Governor of the terms
offered by the states.  A further proposition, on their part, for an
"Interim," upon the plan attempted by Charles the Fifth in Germany,
previously to the Peace of Passau, met with no more favor than it
merited, for certainly that name--which became so odious in Germany that
cats and dogs were called "Interim" by the common people, in derision--
was hardly a potent word to conjure with, at that moment, in the
Netherlands.  They then expressed their intention of retiring to England,
much grieved at the result of their mission.  The Governor replied that
they might do as they liked, but that he, at least, had done all in his
power to bring about a peace, and that the King had been equally pacific
in his intentions.  He then asked the envoys what they themselves thought
of the terms proposed.  "Indeed, they are too hard, your Highness,"
answered Walsingham, "but 'tis only by pure menace that we have extorted
them from the states, unfavorable though they, seem."

"Then you may tell them," replied the Governor, "to keep their offers to
themselves.  Such terms will go but little way in any negotiation with
me."

The envoys shrugged their shoulders.

"What is your own opinion on the whole affair?"  resumed Don John.
"Perhaps your advice may yet help me to a better conclusion."

The envoys continued silent and pensive.

"We can only answer," said Walsingham, at length, "by imitating the
physician, who would prescribe no medicine until he was quite sure that
the patient was ready to swallow it.  'Tis no use wasting counsel or
drugs."

The reply was not satisfactory, but the envoys had convinced themselves
that the sword was the only surgical instrument likely to find favor at
that juncture.  Don John referred, in vague terms, to his peaceable
inclinations, but protested that there was no treating with so unbridled
a people as the Netherlanders.  The ambassadors soon afterwards took
their leave.  After this conference, which was on the 24th of August,
1578, Walsingham and Cobham addressed a letter to the states-general,
deploring the disingenuous and procrastinating conduct of the Governor,
and begging that the failure to effect a pacification might not be
imputed to them.  They then returned to England.

The Imperial envoy, Count Schwartzburg, at whose urgent solicitation this
renewed attempt at a composition had been made, was most desirous that
the Governor should accept the articles.  They formed, indeed, the basis
of a liberal, constitutional, representative government, in which the
Spanish monarch was to retain only a strictly limited sovereignty.  The
proposed convention required Don John, with all his troops and adherents,
forthwith to leave the land after giving up all strongholds and cities in
his possession.  It provided that the Archduke Matthias should remain as
Governor general, under the conditions according to which he had been
originally accepted.  It left the question of religious worship to the
decision of the states-general.  It provided for the release of all
prisoners, the return of all exiles, the restoration of all confiscated
property.  It stipulated that upon the death or departure of Matthias,
his Majesty was not to appoint a governor-general without the consent of
the states-general.

When Count Schwartzburg waited upon the Governor with these astonishing
propositions--which Walsingham might well call somewhat hard--he found
him less disposed to explode with wrath than he had been in previous
conferences.  Already the spirit of the impetuous young soldier was
broken, both by the ill health which was rapidly undermining his
constitution and by the helpless condition in which he had been left
while contending with the great rebellion.  He had soldiers, but no money
to pay them withal; he had no means of upholding that supremacy of crown
and church which he was so vigorously instructed to maintain; and he was
heartily wearied of fulminating edicts which he had no power to enforce.
He had repeatedly solicited his recal, and was growing daily more
impatient that his dismissal did not arrive.  Moreover, the horrible news
of Escovedo's assassination had sickened him to the soul.  The deed had
flashed a sudden light into the abyss of dark duplicity in which his own
fate was suspended.  His most intimate and confidential friend had been
murdered by royal command, while he was himself abandoned by Philip,
exposed to insult, left destitute of defence.  No money was forthcoming,
in spite of constant importunities and perpetual promises.  Plenty of
words were sent him; he complained, as if he possessed the art of
extracting gold from them, or as if war could be carried on with words
alone.

Being in so desponding a mood, he declined entering into any controversy
with regard to the new propositions, which, however, he characterized as
most iniquitous.  He stated merely that his Majesty had determined to
refer the Netherland matters to the arbitration of the Emperor; that the
Duke de Terra Nova would soon be empowered to treat upon the subject at
the imperial court; and that, in the meantime, he was himself most
anxiously awaiting his recal.

A synod of the Reformed churches had been held, during the month of June,
at Dort.  There they had laid down a platform of their principles of
church government in one hundred and one articles.  In the same month,
the leading members of the Reformed Church had drawn up an ably reasoned
address to Matthias and the Council of State on the subject of a general
peace of religion for the provinces.

William of Orange did his utmost to improve the opportunity.  He sketched
a system of provisional toleration, which he caused to be signed by the
Archduke Matthias, and which, at least for a season, was to establish
religious freedom.  The brave; tranquil, solitary man still held his
track across the raging waves, shedding as much light as one clear human
soul could dispense; yet the dim lantern, so far in advance, was
swallowed in the mist, ere those who sailed in his wake could shape their
course by his example.  No man understood him.  Not even his nearest
friends comprehended his views, nor saw that he strove to establish not
freedom for Calvinism, but freedom for conscience.  Saint Aldegonde
complained that the Prince would not persecute the Anabaptists, Peter
Dathenus denounced him as an atheist, while even Count John; the only
one left of his valiant and generous brothers, opposed the religious
peace--except where the advantage was on the side of the new religion.
Where the Catholics had been effectually put down, as in Holland and
Zealand, honest John saw so reason for allowing them to lift themselves
up again.  In the Popish provinces, on the other hand, he was for a
religious peace.  In this bigoted spirit he was followed by too many of
the Reforming mass, while, on their part, the Walloons were already
banding themselves together in the more southern provinces, under the
name of Malcontents.  Stigmatized by the Calvinists as "Paternoster
Jacks," they were daily drawing closer their alliance with Alencon; and
weakening the bands which united them with their Protestant brethren.
Count John had at length become a permanent functionary in the
Netherlands.  Urgently solicited by the leaders and the great multitude
of the Reformers, he had long been unwilling to abandon his home, and to
neglect the private affairs which his devotion to the Netherland cause
had thrown into great confusion.  The Landgrave, too, whose advice he had
asked, had strongly urged him not to "dip his fingers into the olla
podrida."  The future of the provinces was, in his opinion, so big with
disaster, that the past, with all its horrors; under Alva and Requesens,
had only furnished the "preludia" of that which was to ensue.  For these
desperate views his main reason, as usual, was the comet; that
mischievous luminary still continuing to cast a lurid glare across the
Landgrave's path.  Notwithstanding these direful warnings from a prince
of the Reformation, notwithstanding the "olla podrida" and the "comet,"
Count John had nevertheless accepted the office of Governor of
Gelderland, to which he had been elected by the estates of that province
on the 11th of March.  That important bulwark of Holland, Zealand, and
Utrecht on the one side, and of Groningen and Friesland on the other--the
main buttress, in short, of the nascent republic, was now in hands which
would defend it to the last.

As soon as the discussion came up in the states-general on the subject of
the Dort petitions, Orange requested that every member who had formed his
opinions should express them fully and frankly.  All wished, however, to
be guided and governed by the sentiments of the Prince.  Not a man spoke,
save to demand their leader's views, and to express adhesion in advance
to the course which his wisdom might suggest.  The result was a projected
convention, a draft for a religious peace,  which, if definitely
established, would have healed many wounds and averted much calamity.
It was not, however, destined to be accepted at that time by the states
of the different provinces where it was brought up for discussion; and
several changes were made, both of form and substance, before the system
was adopted at all.  Meantime, for the important city of Antwerp, where
religious broils were again on the point of breaking out, the Prince
preferred a provisional arrangement, which he forthwith carried into
execution.  A proclamation, in the name of the Archduke Matthias and of
the State Council, assigned five special places in the city where the
members of the "pretended Reformed religion" should have liberty to
exercise their religious worship, with preaching, singing, and the
sacraments.  The churchyards of the parochial churches were to be opened
for the burial of their dead, but the funerals were to be unaccompanied
with exhortation, or any public demonstration which might excite
disturbance.  The adherents of one religion were forbidden to disturb, to
insult, or in any way to interfere with the: solemnities of the other.
All were to abstain from mutual jeerings--by pictures, ballads, books, or
otherwise--and from all injuries to ecclesiastical property.  Every man,
of whatever religion, was to be permitted entrance to the churches of
either religion, and when there, all were to conform to the regulations
of the church with modesty and respect.  Those of the new religion were
to take oaths of obedience to the authorities, and to abstain from
meddling with the secular administration of affairs.  Preachers of both
religions were forbidden to preach out of doors, or to make use of
language tending to sedition.  All were to bind themselves to assist the
magistrates in quelling riots, and in sustaining the civil government.

This example of religious peace, together with the active correspondence
thus occasioned with the different state assemblies, excited the jealousy
of the Catholic leaders and of the Walloon population.  Champagny, who
despite his admirable qualities and brilliant services, was still unable
to place himself on the same platform of toleration with Orange, now
undertook a decided movement against the policy of the Prince.  Catholic
to the core, he drew up a petition, remonstrating most vigorously against
the draft for a religions peace, then in circulation through the
provinces.  To this petition he procured many signatures among the more
ardent Catholic nobles.  De Heze, De Glimes, and others of the same
stamp, were willing enough to follow the lead of so distinguished a
chieftain.  The remonstrance was addressed to the Archduke, the Prince of
Orange, the State Council, and the States-general, and called upon them
all to abide by their solemn promises to permit no schism in the ancient
Church.  Should the exercise of the new religion be allowed, the
petitioners insisted that the godless licentiousness of the Netherlands
would excite the contempt of all peoples and potentates.  They suggested,
in conclusion, that all the principal cities of France--and in particular
the city of Paris--had kept themselves clear of the exercise of the new
religion, and that repose and prosperity had been the result.

This petition was carried with considerable solemnity by Champagny,
attended by many of his confederates, to the Hotel-de Ville, and
presented to the magistracy of Brussels.  These functionaries were
requested to deliver it forthwith to the Archduke and Council.  The
magistrates demurred.  A discussion ensued, which grew warmer and warmer
as it proceeded.  The younger nobles permitted themselves abusive
language, which the civic dignitaries would not brook.  The session
was dissolved, and the magistrates, still followed by the petitioners,
came forth into the street.  The confederates, more inflamed than ever,
continued to vociferate and to threaten.  A crowd soon collected in the
square.  The citizens were naturally curious to know why their senators
were thus browbeaten and insulted by a party of insolent young Catholic
nobles.  The old politician at their head, who, in spite of many
services, was not considered a friend to the nation, inspired them with
distrust.  Being informed of the presentation of the petition, the
multitude loudly demanded that the document should be read.  This was
immediately done.  The general drift of the remonstrance was anything but
acceptable, but the allusion to Paris, at the close, excited a tempest of
indignation.  "Paris!  Paris!  Saint Bartholomew!  Saint Bartholomew!
Are we to have Paris weddings in Brussels also?"  howled the mob, as is
often the case, extracting but a single idea, and that a wrong one; from
the public lecture which had just been made.  "Are we to have a Paris
massacre, a Paris blood-bath here in the Netherland capital?  God forbid!
God forbid!  Away with the conspirators!  Down with the Papists!"

It was easily represented to the inflamed imaginations of the populace
that a Brussels Saint Bartholomew had been organized, and that Champagny,
who stood there before them, was its originator and manager.  The
ungrateful Netherlanders forgot the heroism with which the old soldier
had arranged the defence of Antwerp against the "Spanish Fury" but two
years before.  They heard only the instigations of his enemies; they
remembered only that he was the hated Granvelle's brother; they believed
only that there was a plot by which, in some utterly incomprehensible
manner, they were all to be immediately engaged in cutting each others
throats and throwing each other out of the windows, as had been done half
a dozen years before in Paris.  Such was the mischievous intention
ascribed to a petition, which Champagny and his friends had as much
right to offer--however narrow and mistaken their, opinions might now
be considered--as had the, synod of Dort to present their remonstrances.
Never was a more malignant or more stupid perversion of a simple and not
very alarming phrase.  No allusion had been made to Saint Bartholomew,
but all its horrors were supposed to be concealed in the sentence which
referred to Paris.  The nobles were arrested on the spot and hurried to
prison, with the exception of Champagny, who made his escape at first,
and lay concealed for several days.  He was, however, finally ferreted
out of his hiding-place and carried off to Ghent.  There he was thrown
into strict confinement, being treated in all respects as the accomplice
of Aerschot and the other nobles who had been arrested in the time of
Ryhove's revolution.  Certainly, this conduct towards a brave and
generous gentleman was ill calculated to increase general sympathy for
the cause, or to merit the approbation of Orange.  There was, however,
a strong prejudice against Champagny.  His brother Granvelle had never
been forgotten by the Netherlanders, and, was still regarded as their
most untiring foe, while Champagny was supposed to be in close league
with the Cardinal.  In these views the people were entirely wrong.

While these events were taking place in Brussels and Antwerp, the two
armies of the states and of Don John were indolently watching each other.
The sinews of war had been cut upon both sides.  Both parties were
cramped by the most abject poverty.  The troops under Bossu and Casimir,
in the camp sear Mechlin, were already discontented, for want of pay.
The one hundred thousand pounds of Elizabeth had already been spent,
and it was not probable that the offended Queen would soon furnish
another subsidy.  The states could with difficulty extort anything like
the assessed quotas from the different provinces.  The Duke of Alencon
was still at Mons, from which place he had issued a violent proclamation
of war against Don John--a manifesto which had, however, not been
followed up by very vigorous demonstrations.  Don John himself was in
his fortified camp at Bouge, within a league of Namur, but the here
was consuming with mental and with bodily fever.  He was, as it were,
besieged.  He was left entirely without funds, while his royal brother
obstinately refused compliance with his earnest demands to be recalled,
and coldly neglected his importunities for pecuniary assistance.

Compelled to carry on a war against an armed rebellion with such gold
only as could be extracted from loyal swords; stung to the heart by the
suspicion of which he felt himself the object at home, and by the hatred
with which he was regarded in the provinces; outraged in his inmost
feelings by the murder of Escovedo; foiled, outwitted, reduced to a
political nullity by the masterly tactics of the "odious heretic of
heretics" to whom he had originally offered his patronage and the royal
forgiveness, the high-spirited soldier was an object to excite the
tenderness even of religious and political opponents.  Wearied with the
turmoil of camps without battle and of cabinets without counsel, he
sighed for repose, even if it could be found only in a cloister or the
grave.  "I rejoice to see by your letter," he wrote, pathetically, to
John Andrew Doria, at Genoa, "that your life is flowing on with such
calmness, while the world around me is so tumultuously agitated.  I
consider you most fortunate that you are passing the remainder of your
days for God and yourself; that you are not forced to put yourself
perpetually in the scales of the world's events, nor to venture yourself
daily on its hazardous games."  He proceeded to inform his friend of his
own painful situation, surrounded by innumerable enemies, without means
of holding out more than three months, and cut off from all assistance by
a government which could not see that if the present chance were lost all
was lost.  He declared it impossible for him to fight in the position to
which he was reduced, pressed as he was within half a mile of the point
which he had always considered as his last refuge.  He stated also that
the French were strengthening themselves in Hainault, under Alencon, and
that the King of France was in readiness to break in through Burgundy,
should his brother obtain a firm foothold in the provinces.  "I have
besought his Majesty over and over again," he continued, "to send to me
his orders; if they come they shall be executed, unless they arrive too
late.  They have cut of our hands and we have now nothing for it but to
stretch forth our heads also to the axe.  I grieve to trouble you with my
sorrows, but I trust to your sympathy as a man and a friend.  I hope that
you will remember me in your prayers, for you can put your trust where,
in former days, I never could place my own."

The dying crusader wrote another letter, in the same mournful strain,
to another intimate friend, Don Pedro Mendoza, Spanish envoy in Genoa.
It was dated upon the same day from his camp near Namur, and repeated the
statement that the King of France was ready to invade the Netherlands, so
soon as Alencon should prepare an opening.  "His Majesty," continued Don
John, "is resolved upon nothing; at least, I am kept in ignorance of his
intentions.  Our life is doled out to us here by moments.  I cry aloud,
but it profits me little.  Matters will soon be disposed, through our
negligence, exactly as the Devil would best wish them.  It is plain that
we are left here to pine away till our last breath.  God direct us all as
He may see fit; in His hands are all things."

Four days later he wrote to the King, stating that he was confined to his
chamber with a fever, by which he was already as much reduced as if he
had been ill for a month.  "I assure your Majesty," said he "that the
work here is enough to destroy any constitution and any life."  He
reminded Philip how often he had been warned by him as to the insidious
practices of the French.  Those prophecies had now become facts.  The
French had entered the country, while some of the inhabitants were
frightened, others disaffected.  Don John declared himself in a dilemma.
With his small force, hardly enough to make head against the enemy
immediately in front, and to protect the places which required guarding,
'twas impossible for him to leave his position to attack the enemy in
Burgundy.  If he remained stationary, the communications were cut off
through which his money and supplies reached him.  "Thus I remain," said
he, "perplexed and confused, desiring, more than life, some decision on
your Majesty's part, for which I have implored so many times."  He urged
the King most vehemently to send him instructions as to the course to be
pursued, adding that it wounded him to the soul to find them so long
delayed.  He begged to be informed whether he was to attack the enemy in
Burgundy, whether he should await where he then was the succor of his
Majesty, or whether he was to fight, and if so with which of his enemies:
in fine, what he was to do; because, losing or winning, he meant to
conform to his Majesty's will.  He felt deeply pained, he said, at being
disgraced and abandoned by the King, having served him, both as a
brother, and a man, with love and faith and heartiness.  "Our lives,"
said he, "are at stake upon this game, and all we wish is to lose them
honorably."  He begged the King to send a special envoy to France, with
remonstrances on the subject of Alencon, and another to the Pope to ask
for the Duke's excommunication.  He protested that he would give his
blood rather than occasion so much annoyance to the King, but that he
felt it his duty to tell the naked truth.  The pest was ravaging his
little army.  Twelve hundred were now in hospital, besides those nursed
in private houses, and he had no means or money to remedy the evil.
Moreover, the enemy, seeing that they were not opposed in the open field,
had cut off the passage into Liege by the Meuse, and had advanced to
Nivelles and Chimay for the sake of communications with France, by the
same river.

Ten days after these pathetic passages had been written, the writer was
dead.  Since the assassination of Escovedo, a consuming melancholy had
settled upon his spirits, and a burning fever came, in the month of
September, to destroy his physical strength.  The house where he lay was
a hovel, the only chamber of which had been long used as a pigeon-house.
This wretched garret was cleansed, as well as it could be of its filth,
and hung with tapestry emblazoned with armorial bearings.  In that
dovecot the hero of Lepanto was destined to expire.  During the last few,
days of his illness, he was delirious.  Tossing upon his uneasy couch, he
again arranged in imagination, the combinations of great battles, again
shouted his orders to rushing squadrons, and listened with brightening
eye to the trumpet of victory.  Reason returned, however, before the hour
of death, and permitted him, the opportunity to make the dispositions
rendered necessary by his condition.  He appointed his nephew, Alexander
of Parma, who had been watching assiduously over his deathbed, to succeed
him, provisionally, in the command of the army and in his other
dignities, received the last sacraments with composure, and tranquilly
breathed his last upon the first day of October, the month which, since
the battle of Lepanto, he had always considered a festive and a fortunate
one.

It was inevitable that suspicion of poison should be at once excited by
his decease.  Those suspicions have been never set at rest, and never
proved.  Two Englishmen, Ratcliff and Gray by name, had been arrested and
executed on a charge of having been employed by Secretary Walsingham to
assassinate the Governor.  The charge was doubtless an infamous
falsehood; but had Philip, who was suspected of being the real criminal,
really compassed the death of his brother, it was none the less probable
that an innocent victim or two would be executed, to save appearances.
Now that time has unveiled to us many mysteries, now that we have learned
from Philip's own lips and those of his accomplices the exact manner in
which Montigny and Escovedo were put to death, the world will hardly be
very charitable with regard to other imputations.  It was vehemently
suspected that Don John had been murdered by the command of Philip; but
no such fact was ever proved.

The body, when opened that it might be embalmed, was supposed to offer
evidence of poison.  The heart was dry, the other internal organs were
likewise so desiccated as to crumble when touched, and the general color
of the interior was of a blackish brown, as if it had been singed.
Various persona were mentioned as the probable criminals; various motives
assigned for the commission of the deed.  Nevertheless, it must be
admitted that there were causes, which were undisputed, for his death,
sufficient to render a search for the more mysterious ones comparatively
superfluous.  A disorder called the pest was raging in his camp, and had
carried off a thousand of his soldiers within a few days, while his
mental sufferings had been acute enough to turn his heart to ashes.
Disappointed, tormented by friend and foe, suspected, insulted, broken
spirited, it was not strange that he should prove an easy victim to a
pestilent disorder before which many stronger men were daily falling.

On the third day after his decease, the funeral rites were celebrated.
A dispute between the Spaniards, Germans, and Netherlanders in the army
arose, each claiming precedence in the ceremony, on account of superior
national propinquity to the illustrious deceased.  All were, in truth,
equally near to him, for different reasons, and it was arranged that all
should share equally in the obsequies.  The corpse disembowelled and
embalmed, was laid upon a couch of state.  The hero was clad in complete
armor; his swords helmet, and steel gauntlets lying at his feet, a
coronet, blazing with precious stones, upon his head, the jewelled chain
and insignia of the Golden Fleece about his neck, and perfumed gloves
upon his hands.  Thus royally and martially arrayed, he was placed upon
his bier and borne forth from the house where he had died, by the
gentlemen of his bedchamber.  From them he was received by the colonels
of the regiments stationed next his own quarters.  These chiefs, followed
by their troops with inverted arms and mined drums, escorted the body to
the next station, where it was received by the commanding officers of
other national regiments, to be again transmitted to those of the third.
Thus by soldiers of the three nations, it was successively conducted to
the gates of Namur, where it was received by the civic authorities.  The
pall-bearers, old Peter Ernest Mansfeld, Ottavio Gonzaga, the Marquis de
Villa Franca, and the Count de Reux, then bore it to the church, where it
was deposited until the royal orders should be received from Spain.  The
heart of the hero was permanently buried beneath the pavement of the
little church, and a monumental inscription, prepared by Alexander
Farnese, still indicates the spot where that lion heart returned to dust.

It had been Don John's dying request to Philip that his remains might be
buried in the Escorial by the side of his imperial father, and the prayer
being granted, the royal order in due time arrived for the transportation
of the corpse to Spain.  Permission had been asked and given for the
passage of a small number of Spanish troops through France.  The thrifty
king had, however, made no allusion to the fact that those soldiers were
to bear with them the mortal remains of Lepanto's hero, for he was
disposed to save the expense which a public transportation of the body
and the exchange of pompous courtesies with the authorities of every town
upon the long journey would occasion.  The corpse was accordingly divided
into three parts, and packed in three separate bags; and thus the
different portions, to save weight, being suspended at the saddle-bows of
different troopers, the body of the conqueror was conveyed to its distant
resting-place.

         "Expende Hannibalem: quot libras in duce summo
          Invenies?". . . . . . . . . .

Thus irreverently, almost blasphemously, the disjointed relics of the
great warrior were hurried through France; France, which the romantic
Saracen slave had traversed but two short years before, filled with high
hopes, and pursuing extravagant visions.  It has been recorded by classic
historians, that the different fragments, after their arrival in Spain,
were re-united, and fastened together with wire; that the body was then
stuffed, attired in magnificent habiliments, placed upon its feet, and
supported by a martial staff, and that thus prepared for a royal
interview, the mortal remains of Don John were presented to his Most
Catholic Majesty.  Philip is said to have manifested emotion at sight of
the hideous spectre--for hideous and spectral, despite of jewels,
balsams, and brocades, must have been that unburied corpse, aping life in
attitude and vestment, but standing there only to assert its privilege of
descending into the tomb.  The claim was granted, and Don John of Austria
at last found repose by the side of his imperial father.

A sufficient estimate of his character has been apparent in the course of
the narrative.  Dying before he had quite completed his thirty-third
year, he excites pity and admiration almost as much as censure.  His
military career was a blaze of glory.  Commanding in the Moorish wars at
twenty-three, and in the Turkish campaigns at twenty-six, he had achieved
a matchless renown before he had emerged from early youth; but his sun
was destined to go down at noon.  He found neither splendor nor power in
the Netherlands, where he was deserted by his king and crushed by the
superior genius of the Prince of Orange.  Although he vindicated his
martial skill at Gemblours, the victory was fruitless.  It was but the
solitary sprig of the tiger from his jungle, and after that striking
conflict his life was ended in darkness and obscurity.  Possessing
military genius of a high order, with extraordinary personal bravery,
he was the last of the paladins and the crusaders.  His accomplishments
were also considerable, and he spoke Italian, German, French, and Spanish
with fluency.  His beauty was remarkable; his personal fascinations
acknowledged by either sex; but as a commander of men, excepting upon the
battle-field, he possessed little genius.  His ambition was the ambition
of a knight-errant, an adventurer, a Norman pirate; it was a personal and
tawdry ambition.  Vague and contradictory dreams of crowns, of royal
marriages, of extemporized dynasties, floated ever before him; but he was
himself always the hero of his own romance.  He sought a throne in Africa
or in Britain; he dreamed of espousing Mary of Scotland at the expense of
Elizabeth, and was even thought to aspire secretly to the hand of the
great English Queen herself.  Thus, crusader and bigot as he was, he was
willing to be reconciled with heresy, if heresy could furnish him with a
throne.

It is superfluous to state that he was no match, by mental endowments,
for William of Orange; but even had he been so, the moral standard by
which each measured himself placed the Conqueror far below the Father
of a people.  It must be admitted that Don John is entitled to but small
credit for his political achievements in the Netherlands.  He was
incapable of perceiving that the great contest between the Reformation
and the Inquisition could never be amicably arranged in those provinces,
and that the character of William of Orange was neither to be softened
by royal smiles, nor perverted by appeals to sordid interests.  It would
have been perhaps impossible for him, with his education and temperament,
to have embraced what seems to us the right cause, but it ought, at
least, to have been in his power to read the character of his antagonist,
and to estimate his own position with something like accuracy.  He may be
forgiven that he did not succeed in reconciling hostile parties, when his
only plan to accomplish such a purpose was the extermination of the most
considerable faction; but although it was not to be expected that he
would look on the provinces with the eyes of William the Silent,
he might have comprehended that the Netherland chieftain was neither
to be purchased nor cajoled.  The only system by which the two religions
could live together in peace had been discovered by the Prince; but
toleration, in the eyes of Catholics, and of many Protestants, was still
thought the deadliest heresy of all.




ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Difficult for one friend to advise another in three matters
Establish not freedom for Calvinism, but freedom for conscience
Taxes upon income and upon consumption
Toleration thought the deadliest heresy of all