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[Illustration: PHILIP THE SECOND.

_From the Original by Titian in the Royal Museum at Madrid._

London, George Routledge & Sons, Broadway, Ludgate Hill.]




HISTORY
OF
THE REIGN
OF
PHILIP THE SECOND,
KING OF SPAIN.

BY
WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT,
CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE OF FRANCE, OF THE ROYAL
ACADEMY OF HISTORY AT MADRID, ETC.

VOLUMES FIRST AND SECOND.

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.

LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE
NEW YORK. 416, BROOME STREET.




PREFACE.


The reign of Philip the Second has occupied the pen of the historian
more frequently--if we except that of Charles the Fifth--than any other
portion of the Spanish annals. It has become familiar to the English
reader through the pages of Watson, who has deservedly found favor with
the public for the perspicuity of his style,--a virtue, however, not
uncommon in his day,--for the sobriety of his judgments, and for the
skill he has shown in arranging his complicated story, so as to maintain
the reader's interest unbroken to the end. But the public, in Watson's
day, were not very fastidious in regard to the sources of the
information on which a narrative was founded. Nor was it easy to obtain
access to those unpublished documents which constitute the best sources
of information. Neither can it be denied that Watson himself was not so
solicitous as he should have been to profit by opportunities which a
little pains might have put within his reach,--presenting, in this
respect, a contrast to his more celebrated predecessor, Robertson; that
he contented himself too easily with such cheap and commonplace
materials as lay directly in his path; and that, consequently, the
foundations of his history are much too slight for the superstructure.
For these reasons, the reign of Philip the Second must still be regarded
as open ground for English and American writers.

And at no time could the history of this reign have been undertaken with
the same advantages as at present, when the more enlightened policy of
the European governments has opened their national archives to the
inspection of the scholar; when he is allowed access, in particular, to
the Archives of Simancas, which have held the secrets of the Spanish
monarchy hermetically sealed for ages.

The history of Philip the Second is the history of Europe during the
latter half of the sixteenth century. It covers the period when the
doctrines of the Reformation were agitating the minds of men in so
fearful a manner as to shake the very foundations of the Romish
hierarchy in the fierce contest which divided Christendom. Philip, both
from his personal character, and from his position as sovereign of the
most potent monarchy in Europe, was placed at the head of the party
which strove to uphold the fortunes of the ancient Church; and thus his
policy led him perpetually to interfere in the internal affairs of the
other European states,--making it necessary to look for the materials
for his history quite as much without the Peninsula as within it. In
this respect the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella presents a strong
contrast to that of Philip the Second; and it was the consideration of
this, when I had completed my history of the former, and proposed at
some future day to enter upon that of the latter, that led me to set
about a collection of authentic materials from the public archives in
the great European capitals. It was a work of difficulty; and, although
I had made some progress in it, I did not feel assured of success until
I had the good fortune to obtain the coöperation of my friend, Don
Pascual de Gayangos, Professor of Arabic in the University of Madrid.
This eminent scholar was admirably qualified for the task which he so
kindly undertook; since, with a remarkable facility--such as long
practice only can give--in deciphering the mysterious handwriting of the
sixteenth century, he combined such a thorough acquaintance with the
history of his country as enabled him to detect, amidst the ocean of
manuscripts which he inspected, such portions as were essential to my
purpose.

With unwearied assiduity he devoted himself to the examination of many
of the principal collections, both in England and on the Continent.
Among these may be mentioned the British Museum and the State-Paper
Office, in London; the Library of the Dukes of Burgundy, in Brussels;
that of the University of Leyden; the Royal Library, at the Hague; the
Royal Library of Paris, and the Archives of the Kingdom, in the Hôtel
Soubise; the Library of the Academy of History, the National Library at
Madrid, and, more important than either, the ancient Archives of
Simancas, within whose hallowed precincts Señor Gayangos was one of the
first scholars permitted to enter.

Besides these public repositories, there are several private collections
to the owners of which I am largely indebted for the liberal manner in
which they have opened them for my benefit. I may mention, in
particular, the late Lady Holland, who kindly permitted copies to be
made by Señor Gayangos from the manuscripts preserved in Holland House;
Sir Thomas Phillips, Bart., who freely extended the same courtesy in
respect to the present work which he had shown to me on a former
occasion; and Patrick Fraser Tytler, Esq., the late excellent historian
of Scotland, who generously placed at my disposal sundry documents
copied by him in the public offices with his own hand, for the
illustration of the reign of Mary Tudor.

In Spain the collection made by Señor Gayangos was enriched by materials
drawn from the family archives of the marquis of Santa Cruz, whose
illustrious ancestor first had charge of the Spanish armada; from the
archives of Medina Sidonia, containing papers of the duke who succeeded
to the command of that ill-starred expedition; and from the archives of
the house of Alva,--a name associated with the most memorable acts of
the government of Philip.

The manuscripts, thus drawn from various quarters, were fortified by
such printed works as, having made their appearance in the time of
Philip the Second, could throw any light on his government. Where such
works were not to be purchased, Señor Gayangos caused copies to be made
of them, or of those portions which were important to my purpose. The
result of his kind, untiring labors has been to put me in possession of
such a collection of authentic materials for the illustration of the
reign of Philip as no one before had probably attempted to make. Nor
until now had the time come for making the attempt with success.

There still remained, however, some places to be examined where I might
expect to find documents that would be of use to me. Indeed, it is in
the nature of such a collection, covering so wide an extent of ground,
that it can never be complete. The historian may be satisfied, if he has
such authentic materials at his command, as, while they solve much that
has hitherto been enigmatical in the accounts of the time, will enable
him to present, in their true light, the character of Philip and the
policy of his government. I must acknowledge my obligations to more than
one person, who has given me important aid in prosecuting my further
researches.

One of the first of them is my friend, Mr. Edward Everett, who, in his
long and brilliant career as a statesman, has lost nothing of that love
of letters which formed his first claim to distinction. The year before
his appointment to the English mission he passed on the Continent,
where, with the kindness that belongs to his nature, he spent much time
in examining for me the great libraries, first in Paris, and afterwards
more effectually in Florence. From the _Archivio Mediceo_, in which he
was permitted by the grand duke to conduct his researches, he obtained
copies of sundry valuable documents, and among them the letters of the
Tuscan ministers, which have helped to guide me in some of the most
intricate parts of my narrative. A still larger amount of materials he
derived from the private library of Count Guicciardini, the descendant
of the illustrious historian of that name. I am happy to express my
lively sense of the courtesy shown by this nobleman; also my gratitude
for kind offices rendered me by Prince Corsini; and no less by the
Marquis Gino Capponi, whose name will be always held in honor for the
enlightened patronage which he has extended to learning, while
suffering, himself, under the severest privation that can befall the
scholar.

There was still an important deficiency in my collection,--that of the
_Relazioni Venete_, as the reports are called which were made by
ambassadors of Venice on their return from their foreign missions. The
value of these reports, for the information they give of the countries
visited by the envoys, is well known to historians. The deficiency was
amply supplied by the unwearied kindness of my friend, Mr. Fay, who now
so ably fills the post of minister from the United States to
Switzerland. When connected with the American legation at Berlin, he, in
the most obliging manner, assisted me in making arrangements for
obtaining the documents I desired, which, with other papers of
importance, were copied for me from the manuscripts in the Royal Library
of Berlin, and the Ducal Library of Gotha. I have also, in connection
with this, to express my obligations to the distinguished librarian of
the former institution, Mr. Pertz, for the good-will which he showed in
promoting my views.

Through Mr. Fay, I also obtained the authority of Prince Metternich to
inspect the Archives of the Empire in Vienna, which I inferred, from the
intimate relations subsisting between the courts of Madrid and Vienna in
that day, must contain much valuable matter relevant to my subject. The
result did not correspond to my expectations. I am happy, however, to
have the opportunity of publicly offering my acknowledgments to that
eminent scholar, Dr. Ferdinand Wolf, for the obliging manner in which he
conducted the investigation for me, as well in the archives above
mentioned, as, with better results, in the Imperial Library, with which
he is officially connected.

In concluding the list of those to whose good offices I have been
indebted, I must not omit the names of M. de Salvandy, minister of
public instruction in France at the time I was engaged in making my
collection; Mr. Rush, then the minister of the United States at the
French court; Mr. Rives, of Virginia, his successor in that office; and
last, not least, my friend, Count de Circourt, a scholar whose noble
contributions to the periodical literature of his country, on the
greatest variety of topics, have given him a prominent place among the
writers of our time.

I am happy, also, to tender my acknowledgments for the favors I have
received from Mr. Van de Weyer, minister from Belgium to the court of
St. James; from Mr. B. Homer Dixon, consul for the Netherlands at
Boston; and from my friend and kinsman, Mr. Thomas Hickling, consul for
the United States at St. Michael's, who kindly furnished me with sundry
manuscripts exhibiting the condition of the Azores at the period when
those islands passed, with Portugal, under the sceptre of Philip the
Second.

Having thus acquainted the reader with the sources whence I have derived
my materials, I must now say a few words in regard to the conduct of my
narrative. An obvious difficulty in the path of the historian of this
period arises from the nature of the subject, embracing, as it does,
such a variety of independent, not to say incongruous topics, that it is
no easy matter to preserve anything like unity of interest in the story.
Thus the Revolution of the Netherlands, although, strictly speaking,
only an episode to the main body of the narrative, from its importance,
well deserves to be treated in a separate and independent narrative by
itself.[1] Running along through the whole extent of Philip's reign, it
is continually distracting the attention of the historian, creating an
embarrassment something like that which arises from what is termed a
double plot in the drama. The best way of obviating this is to keep in
view the dominant principle which controlled all the movements of the
complicated machinery, so to speak, and impressed on them a unity of
action. This principle is to be found in the policy of Philip, the great
aim of which was to uphold the supremacy of the Church, and, as a
consequence, that of the crown. "Peace and public order," he writes on
one occasion, "are to be maintained in my dominions only by maintaining
the authority of the Holy See." It was this policy, almost as sure and
steady in its operation as the laws of Nature herself, that may be said
to have directed the march of events through the whole of his long
reign; and it is only by keeping this constantly in view that the
student will be enabled to obtain a clew to guide him through the
intricate passages in the history of Philip, and the best means of
solving what would otherwise remain enigmatical in his conduct.

In the composition of the work, I have, for the most part, conformed to
the plan which I had before adopted. Far from confining myself to a
record of political events, I have endeavored to present a picture of
the intellectual culture and the manners of the people. I have not even
refused such aid as could be obtained from the display of pageants, and
court ceremonies, which, although exhibiting little more than the
costume of the time, may serve to bring the outward form of a
picturesque age more vividly before the eye of the reader. In the
arrangement of the narrative, I have not confined myself altogether to
the chronological order of events, but have thrown them into masses,
according to the subjects to which they relate, so as to produce, as far
as possible, a distinct impression on the reader. And in this way I have
postponed more than one matter of importance to a later portion of the
work, which a strict regard to time would assign more properly to an
earlier division of the subject. Finally, I have been careful to fortify
the text with citations from the original authorities on which it
depends, especially where these are rare and difficult of access.

In the part relating to the Netherlands I have pursued a course somewhat
different from what I have done in other parts of the work. The scholars
of that country, in a truly patriotic spirit, have devoted themselves of
late years to exploring their own archives, as well as those of
Simancas, for the purpose of illustrating their national annals. The
results they have given to the world in a series of publications, which
are still in progress. The historian has reason to be deeply grateful to
those pioneers, whose labors have put him in possession of materials
which afford the most substantial basis for his narrative. For what
basis can compare with that afforded by the written correspondence of
the parties themselves? It is on this sure ground that I have mainly
relied in this part of my story; and I have adopted the practice of
incorporating extracts from the letters in the body of the text, which,
if it may sometimes give an air of prolixity to the narrative, will have
the advantage of bringing the reader into a sort of personal
acquaintance with the actors, as he listens to the words spoken by
themselves.

In the earlier part of this Preface, I have made the acknowledgments due
for assistance I have received in the collection of my materials; and I
must not now conclude without recording my obligations, of another kind,
to two of my personal friends,--Mr. Charles Folsom, the learned
librarian of the Boston Athenæum, who has repeated the good offices he
had before rendered me in revising my manuscript for the press; and Mr.
John Foster Kirk, whose familiarity with the history and languages of
Modern Europe has greatly aided me in the prosecution of my researches,
while his sagacious criticism has done me no less service in the
preparation of these volumes.

Notwithstanding the advantages I have enjoyed for the composition of
this work, and especially those derived from the possession of new and
original materials, I am fully sensible that I am far from having done
justice to a subject so vast in its extent and so complicated in its
relations. It is not necessary to urge in my defence any physical
embarrassments under which I labor; since that will hardly be an excuse
for not doing well what it was not necessary to do at all. But I may be
permitted to say, that what I have done has been the result of careful
preparation; that I have endeavored to write in a spirit of candor and
good faith; and that, whatever may be the deficiencies of my work, it
can hardly fail--considering the advantages I have enjoyed over my
predecessors--to present the reader with such new and authentic
statements of facts as may afford him a better point of view than that
which he has hitherto possessed for surveying the history of Philip the
Second.

BOSTON, _July, 1855_




CONTENTS.


Book I.

CHAPTER I.

ABDICATION OF CHARLES THE FIFTH.

PAGE

Introductory Remarks--Spain under Charles the Fifth--He prepares to
resign the Crown--His Abdication--His Return to Spain--His Journey to
Yuste                                                                  1

CHAPTER II.

EARLY DAYS OF PHILIP.

Birth of Philip the Second--His Education--Intrusted with the
Regency--Marries Mary of Portugal--Visit to Flanders--Public
Festivities--Ambitious Schemes--Returns to Spain                      11

CHAPTER III.

ENGLISH ALLIANCE.

Condition of England--Character of Mary--Philip's Proposals of
Marriage--Marriage Articles--Insurrection in England                  30

CHAPTER IV.

ENGLISH ALLIANCE.

Mary's Betrothal--Joanna Regent of Castile--Philip embarks for
England--His splendid Reception--Marriage of Philip and Mary--Royal
Entertainments--Philip's Influence--The Catholic Church
restored--Philip's Departure                                          43

CHAPTER V.

WAR WITH THE POPE.

Empire of Philip--Paul the Fourth--Court of France--League against
Spain--The Duke of Alva--Preparations for War--Victorious Campaign    59

CHAPTER VI.

WAR WITH THE POPE.

Guise enters Italy--Operations in the Abruzz--Siege of Civitella--Alva
drives out the French--Rome menaced by the Spaniards--Paul consents to
Peace--Paul's Subsequent Career                                       73

CHAPTER VII.

WAR WITH FRANCE.

England joins in the War--Philip's Preparations--Siege of St.
Quentin--French Army routed--Storming of St. Quentin--Successes of the
Spaniards                                                             85

CHAPTER VIII.

WAR WITH FRANCE.

Extraordinary Efforts of France--Calais surprised by Guise--The French
invade Flanders--Bloody Battle of Gravelines--Negotiations for
Peace--Mary's Death--Accession of Elizabeth--Treaty of
Cateau-Cambresis                                                     102

CHAPTER IX.

LATTER DAYS OF CHARLES THE FIFTH.

Charles at Yuste--His Mode of Life--Interest in Public
Affairs--Celebrates his Obsequies--Last Illness--Death and
Character                                                            120


Book II.

CHAPTER I.

VIEW OF THE NETHERLANDS.

Civil Institutions--Commercial Prosperity--Character of the
People--Protestant Doctrines--Persecution by Charles the Fifth       146

CHAPTER II.

SYSTEM ESTABLISHED BY PHILIP.

Unpopular Manners of Philip--He enforces the Edicts--Increase of the
Bishoprics--Margaret of Parma Regent--Meeting of the
States-General--Their spirited Conduct--Organization of the
Councils--Rise and Character of Granvelle--Philip's Departure        157

CHAPTER III.

PROTESTANTISM IN SPAIN.

Philip's Arrival in Spain--The Reformed Doctrines--Their
Suppression--Autos da Fé--Prosecution of Carranza--Extinction of
Heresy--Fanaticism of the Spaniards                                  170

CHAPTER IV.

PHILIP'S THIRD MARRIAGE.

Reception of Isabella--Marriage Festivities--The Queen's Mode of
Life--The Court removed to Madrid                                    183

CHAPTER V.

DISCONTENT IN THE NETHERLANDS.

The Reformation--Its Progress in the Netherlands--General
Discontent--William of Orange                                        192

CHAPTER VI.

OPPOSITION TO THE GOVERNMENT.

Grounds of Complaint--The Spanish Troops--The New Bishoprics--Influence
of Granvelle--Opposed by the Nobles--His Unpopularity                201

CHAPTER VII.

GRANVELLE COMPELLED TO WITHDRAW.

League against Granvelle--Margaret desires his Removal--Philip
deliberates--Granvelle dismissed--Leaves the Netherlands             213

CHAPTER VIII.

CHANGES DEMANDED BY THE LORDS.

Policy of Philip--Ascendancy of the Nobles--The Regent's
Embarrassments--Egmont sent to Spain                                 226

CHAPTER IX.

PHILIP'S INFLEXIBILITY.

Philip's Duplicity--His Procrastination--Despatches from Segovia--Effect
on the Country--The Compromise--Orange and Egmont                    238

CHAPTER X.

THE CONFEDERATES.

Design of the Confederates--They enter Brussels--The
Petition--The Gueux                                                  253

CHAPTER XI.

FREEDOM OF WORSHIP.

The Edicts suspended--The Sectaries--The Public Preachings--Attempt to
suppress them--Meeting at St. Trond--Philip's Concessions            260

CHAPTER 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                                                             273

CHAPTER XIII.

THE REGENT'S AUTHORITY REËSTABLISHED.

Reaction--Appeal to Arms--Tumult in Antwerp--Siege of Valenciennes--The
Government triumphant                                                290

CHAPTER XIV.

TRANQUILLITY RESTORED.

Oath imposed by Margaret--Refused by Orange--He leaves the
Netherlands--Submission of the Country--New Edict--Order restored    299


Book III.

CHAPTER 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                                                               310

CHAPTER II.

CRUEL POLICY OF ALVA.

The Council of Blood--Its Organization--General Prosecutions--Civil War
in France--Departure of Margaret--Her administration reviewed        327

CHAPTER III.

REIGN OF TERROR.

Numerous Arrests--Trials and Executions--Confiscations--Orange assembles
an Army--Battle of Heyligerlee--Alva's Proceedings                   340

CHAPTER IV.

TRIALS OF EGMONT AND HOORNE

The Examination--Efforts in their Behalf--Specification of
Charges--Sentence of Death--The Processes reviewed                   355

CHAPTER V.

EXECUTION OF EGMONT AND HOORNE.

The Counts removed to Brussels--Informed of the Sentence--Procession to
the Scaffold--The Execution--Character of Egmont--Fate of his
Family--Sentiment of the People                                      364


CHAPTER VI.

SECRET EXECUTION OF MONTIGNY.

Bergen and Montigny--Their Situation in Spain--Death of Bergen--Arrest
of Montigny--Plot for his Escape--His Process--Removal to
Simancas--Closer Confinement--Midnight Execution                     378


Book IV.

CHAPTER I.

THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE.

Condition of Turkey--African Corsairs--Expedition against Tripoli--War
on the Barbary Coast                                                 393

CHAPTER II.

THE KNIGHTS HOSPITALLERS OF ST. JOHN.

Masters of Rhodes--Driven from Rhodes--Established at Malta--Menaced by
Solyman--La Valette--His Preparations for Defence                    409

CHAPTER III.

SIEGE OF MALTA.

Condition of Malta--Arrival of the Turks--They reconnoitre the
Island--Siege of St. Elmo--Its Heroic Defence--Its Fall              414

CHAPTER IV.

SIEGE OF MALTA.

Il Borgo invested--Storming of St. Michael--Slaughter of the
Turks--Incessant Cannonade--General Assault--The Turks
Repulsed--Perilous Condition of Il Borgo--Constancy of La Valette    432

CHAPTER V.

SIEGE OF MALTA.

The Turks dispirited--Reinforcement from Sicily--Siege raised--Mustapha
defeated--Rejoicings of the Christians--Mortification of Solyman--Review
of the Siege--Subsequent History of La Valette                       445

CHAPTER VI.

DON CARLOS.

His Education and Character--Dangerous Illness--Extravagant
Behavior--Opinions respecting him--His Connection with the
Flemings--Project of Flight--Insane Conduct--Arrest                  456

CHAPTER VII.

DEATH OF DON CARLOS.

Causes of his Imprisonment--His Rigorous Confinement--His Excesses--His
Death--Llorente's Account--Various Accounts--Suspicious
Circumstances--Quarrel in the Palace--Obsequies of Carlos            471

CHAPTER VIII.

DEATH OF ISABELLA.

Queen Isabella--Her Relations with Carlos--Her Illness and Death--Her
Character                                                            490

FOOTNOTES




HISTORY OF PHILIP THE SECOND.




BOOK I.




CHAPTER I.

ABDICATION OF CHARLES THE FIFTH.

Introductory Remarks.--Spain under Charles the Fifth.--He prepares to
resign the Crown.--His Abdication.--His Return to Spain.--His Journey to
Yuste.

1555.


In a former work, I have endeavored to portray the period when the
different provinces of Spain were consolidated into one empire under the
rule of Ferdinand and Isabella; when, by their wise and beneficent
policy, the nation emerged from the obscurity in which it had so long
remained behind the Pyrenees, and took its place as one of the great
members of the European commonwealth. I now propose to examine a later
period in the history of the same nation,--the reign of Philip the
Second; when, with resources greatly enlarged, and territory extended by
a brilliant career of discovery and conquest, it had risen to the zenith
of its power; but when, under the mischievous policy of the
administration, it had excited the jealousy of its neighbors, and
already disclosed those germs of domestic corruption which gradually led
to its dismemberment and decay.

By the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, most of the states of the
Peninsula became united under one common rule; and in 1516, the sceptre
of Spain, with its dependencies both in the Old and the New World,
passed into the hands of their grandson, Charles the Fifth, who, though
he shared the throne nominally with his mother, Joanna, became, in
consequence of her incapacity, the real sovereign of this vast empire.
He had before inherited, through his father, Philip the Handsome, that
fair portion of the ducal realm of Burgundy which comprehended Franche
Comté and the Netherlands. In 1519, he was elected to the imperial crown
of Germany. Not many years elapsed before his domain was still further
enlarged by the barbaric empires of Mexico and Peru; and Spain then
first realized the magnificent vaunt, since so often repeated, that the
sun never set within the borders of her dominions.

Yet the importance of Spain did not rise with the importance of her
acquisitions. She was, in a manner, lost in the magnitude of these
acquisitions. Some of the rival nations which owned the sway of Charles,
in Europe, were of much greater importance than Spain, and attracted
much more attention from their contemporaries. In the earlier period of
that monarch's reign, there was a moment when a contest was going
forward in Castile, of the deepest interest to mankind. Unfortunately,
the "War of the _Comunidades_," as it was termed, was soon closed by
the ruin of the patriots; and, on the memorable field of Villalar, the
liberties of Spain received a blow from which they were destined not to
recover for centuries. From that fatal hour,--the bitter fruit of the
jealousy of castes and the passions of the populace,--an unbroken
tranquillity reigned throughout the country; such a tranquillity as
naturally flows not from a free and well-conducted government, but from
a despotic one. In this political tranquillity, however, the intellect
of Spain did not slumber. Sheltered from invasion by the barrier of the
Pyrenees, her people were allowed to cultivate the arts of peace, so
long as they did not meddle with politics or religion,--in other words,
with the great interests of humanity; while the more adventurous found a
scope for their prowess in European wars, or in exploring the boundless
regions of the Western world.

While there was so little passing in Spain to attract the eye of the
historian, Germany became the theatre of one of those momentous
struggles which have had a permanent influence on the destinies of
mankind. It was in this reign that the great battle of religious liberty
was begun; and the attention and personal presence of Charles were
necessarily demanded most in the country where that battle was to be
fought. But a small part of his life was passed in Spain, in comparison
with what he spent in other parts of his dominions. His early
attachments, his lasting sympathies, were with the people of the
Netherlands; for Flanders was the place of his birth. He spoke the
language of that country more fluently than the Castilian; although he
knew the various languages of his dominions so well, that he could
address his subjects from every quarter in their native dialect. In the
same manner, he could accommodate himself to their peculiar national
manners and tastes. But this flexibility was foreign to the genius of
the Spaniard. Charles brought nothing from Spain but a religious zeal,
amounting to bigotry, which took deep root in a melancholy temperament
inherited from his mother. His tastes were all Flemish. He introduced
the gorgeous ceremonial of the Burgundian court into his own palace, and
into the household of his son. He drew his most trusted and familiar
counsellors from Flanders; and this was one great cause of the troubles
which, at the beginning of his reign, distracted Castile. There was
little to gratify the pride of the Spaniard in the position which he
occupied at the imperial court. Charles regarded Spain chiefly for the
resources she afforded for carrying on his ambitious enterprises. When
he visited her, it was usually to draw supplies from the cortes. The
Spaniards understood this, and bore less affection to his person than to
many of their monarchs far inferior to him in the qualities for exciting
it. They hardly regarded him as one of the nation. There was, indeed,
nothing national in the reign of Charles. His most intimate relations
were with Germany; and as the Emperor Charles the Fifth of Germany, not
as King Charles the First of Spain, he was known in his own time, and
stands recorded on the pages of history.

[Sidenote: SPAIN UNDER CHARLES THE FIFTH.]

When Charles ascended the throne, at the beginning of the sixteenth
century, Europe may be said to have been much in the same condition, in
one respect, as she was at the beginning of the eighth. The Turk menaced
her on the east, in the same manner as the Arab had before menaced her
on the west. The hour seemed to be fast approaching which was to decide
whether Christianity or Mahometanism should hold the ascendant. The
Ottoman tide of conquest rolled up to the very walls of Vienna; and
Charles, who, as head of the empire, was placed on the frontier of
Christendom, was called on to repel it. When thirty-two years of age, he
marched against the formidable Solyman, drove him to an ignominious
retreat, and, at less cost of life than is often expended in a skirmish,
saved Europe from invasion. He afterwards crossed the sea to Tunis,
then occupied by a horde of pirates, the scourge of the Mediterranean.
He beat them in a bloody battle, slew their chief, and liberated ten
thousand captives from their dungeons. All Europe rang with the praises
of the young hero, who thus consecrated his arms to the service of the
Cross, and stood forward as the true champion of Christendom.

But from this high position Charles was repeatedly summoned to other
contests, of a more personal and far less honorable character. Such was
his long and bloody quarrel with Francis the First. It was hardly
possible that two princes, so well matched in years, power, pretensions,
and, above all, love of military glory, with dominions touching on one
another through their whole extent, could long remain without cause of
rivalry and collision. Such rivalry did exist from the moment that the
great prize of the empire was adjudged to Charles; and through the whole
of their long struggle, with the exception of a few reverses, the
superior genius of the emperor triumphed over his bold, but less politic
adversary.

There was still a third contest, on which the strength of the Spanish
monarch was freely expended through the greater part of his reign,--his
contest with the Lutheran princes of Germany. Here, too, for a long
time, fortune favored him. But it is easier to contend against man than
against a great moral principle. The principle of reform had struck too
deep into the mind of Germany to be eradicated by force or by fraud.
Charles, for a long time, by a course of crafty policy, succeeded in
baffling the Protestant league; and, by the decisive victory at
Muhlberg, seemed, at last, to have broken it altogether. But his success
only ministered to his ruin. The very man on whom he bestowed the spoils
of victory turned them against his benefactor. Charles, ill in body and
mind, and glad to escape from his enemies under cover of the night and a
driving tempest, was at length compelled to sign the treaty of Passau,
which secured to the Protestants those religious immunities against
which he had contended through his whole reign.

Not long after, he experienced another humiliating reverse from France,
then ruled by a younger rival, Henry the Second, the son of Francis. The
good star of Charles--the star of Austria--seemed to have set; and as he
reluctantly raised the siege of Metz, he was heard bitterly to exclaim,
"Fortune is a strumpet, who reserves her favors for the young!"

With spirits greatly depressed by his reverses, and still more by the
state of his health, which precluded him from taking part in the manly
and martial exercises to which he had been accustomed, he felt that he
had no longer the same strength as formerly to bear up under the toils
of empire. When but little more than thirty years of age, he had been
attacked by the gout, and of late had been so sorely afflicted with that
disorder, that he had nearly lost the use of his limbs. The man who,
cased in steel, had passed whole days and nights in the saddle,
indifferent to the weather and the season, could now hardly drag himself
along with the aid of his staff. For days he was confined to his bed;
and he did not leave his room for weeks together. His mind became
oppressed with melancholy, which was, to some extent, a constitutional
infirmity. His chief pleasure was in listening to books, especially of a
religious character. He denied himself to all except his most intimate
and trusted counsellors. He lost his interest in affairs; and for whole
months, according to one of his biographers, who had access to his
person, he refused to receive any public communication, or to subscribe
any document, or even letter.[2] One cannot understand how the business
of the nation could have been conducted in such a state of things.
After the death of his mother, Joanna, his mind became more deeply
tinctured with those gloomy fancies which in her amounted to downright
insanity. He imagined he heard her voice calling on him to follow her.
His thoughts were now turned from secular concerns to those of his own
soul; and he resolved to put in execution a plan for resigning his crown
and withdrawing to some religious retreat, where he might prepare for
his latter end. This plan he had conceived many years before, in the
full tide of successful ambition. So opposite were the elements at work
in the character of this extraordinary man!

Although he had chosen the place of his retreat, he had been deterred
from immediately executing his purpose by the forlorn condition of his
mother, and the tender age of his son. The first obstacle was now
removed by the death of Joanna, after a reign--a nominal reign--of half
a century, in which the cloud that had settled on her intellect at her
husband's death was never dispelled.

The age of Philip, his son and heir, was also no longer an objection.
From early boyhood he had been trained to the duties of his station,
and, when very young, had been intrusted with the government of Castile.
His father had surrounded him with able and experienced counsellors, and
their pupil, who showed a discretion far beyond his years, had largely
profited by their lessons. He had now entered his twenty-ninth year, an
age when the character is formed, and when, if ever, he might be
supposed qualified to assume the duties of government. His father had
already ceded to him the sovereignty of Naples and Milan, on occasion of
the prince's marriage with Mary of England. He was on a visit to that
country, when Charles, having decided on the act of abdication, sent to
require his son's attendance at Brussels, where the ceremony was to be
performed. The different provinces of the Netherlands were also summoned
to send their deputies, with authority to receive the emperor's
resignation, and to transfer their allegiance to his successor. As a
preliminary step, on the twenty-second of October, 1555, he conferred on
Philip the grand-mastership--which, as Lord of Flanders, was vested in
himself--of the _toison d'or_, the order of the Golden Fleece, of
Burgundy; the proudest and most coveted, at that day, of all the
military orders of knighthood.

Preparations were then made for conducting the ceremony of abdication
with all the pomp and solemnity suited to so august an occasion. The
great hall of the royal palace of Brussels was selected for the scene of
it. The walls of the spacious apartment were hung with tapestry, and the
floor was covered with rich carpeting. A scaffold was erected, at one
end of the room, to the height of six or seven steps. On it was placed a
throne, or chair of state, for the emperor, with other seats for Philip,
and for the great Flemish lords who were to attend the person of their
sovereign. Above the throne was suspended a gorgeous canopy, on which
were emblazoned the arms of the ducal house of Burgundy. In front of the
scaffolding, accommodations were provided for the deputies of the
provinces, who were to be seated on benches arranged according to their
respective rights of precedence.[3]

[Sidenote: CEREMONY OF ABDICATION.]

On the twenty-fifth of October, the day fixed for the ceremony, Charles
the Fifth executed an instrument by which he ceded to his son the
sovereignty of Flanders.[4] Mass was then performed; and the emperor,
accompanied by Philip and a numerous retinue, proceeded in state to the
great hall, where the deputies were already assembled.[5]

Charles was, at this time, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. His form
was slightly bent,--but it was by disease more than by time,--and on his
countenance might be traced the marks of anxiety and rough exposure. Yet
it still wore that majesty of expression so conspicuous in his portraits
by the inimitable pencil of Titian. His hair, once of a light color,
approaching to yellow, had begun to turn before he was forty, and, as
well as his beard, was now gray. His forehead was broad and expansive;
his nose aquiline. His blue eyes and fair complexion intimated his
Teutonic descent. The only feature in his countenance decidedly bad was
his lower jaw, protruding with its thick, heavy lip, so characteristic
of the physiognomies of the Austrian dynasty.[6]

In stature he was about the middle height. His limbs were strongly knit,
and once well formed, though now the extremities were sadly distorted by
disease. The emperor leaned for support on a staff with one hand, while
with the other he rested on the arm of William of Orange, who, then
young, was destined at a later day to become the most formidable enemy
of his house. The grave demeanor of Charles was rendered still more
impressive by his dress; for he was in mourning for his mother; and the
sable hue of his attire was relieved only by a single ornament, the
superb collar of the Golden Fleece, which hung from his neck.

Behind the emperor came Philip, the heir of his vast dominions. He was
of a middle height, of much the same proportions as his father, whom he
resembled also in his lineaments,--except that those of the son wore a
more sombre, and perhaps a sinister expression; while there was a
reserve in his manner, in spite of his efforts to the contrary, as if he
would shroud his thoughts from observation. The magnificence of his
dress corresponded with his royal station, and formed a contrast to that
of his father, who was quitting the pomp and grandeur of the world, on
which the son was about to enter.

Next to Philip came Mary, the emperor's sister, formerly queen of
Hungary. She had filled the post of regent of the Low Countries for
nearly twenty years, and now welcomed the hour when she was to resign
the burden of sovereignty to her nephew, and withdraw, like her imperial
brother, into private life. Another sister of Charles, Eleanor, widow of
the French king, Francis the First, also took part in these ceremonies,
previous to her departure for Spain, whither she was to accompany the
emperor.

After these members of the imperial family came the nobility of the
Netherlands, the knights of the Golden Fleece, the royal counsellors,
and the great officers of the household, all splendidly attired in their
robes of state, and proudly displaying the insignia of their orders.
When the emperor had mounted his throne, with Philip on his right hand,
the Regent Mary on his left, and the rest of his retinue disposed along
the seats prepared for them on the platform, the president of the
council of Flanders addressed the assembly. He briefly explained the
object for which they had been summoned, and the motives which had
induced their master to abdicate the throne; and he concluded by
requiring them, in their sovereign's name, to transfer their allegiance
from himself to Philip, his son and rightful heir.

After a pause, Charles rose to address a few parting words to his
subjects. He stood with apparent difficulty, and rested his right hand
on the shoulder of the Prince of Orange, intimating, by this preference
on so distinguished an occasion, the high favour in which he held the
young nobleman. In the other hand he held a paper, containing some hints
for his discourse, and occasionally cast his eyes on it, to refresh his
memory. He spoke in the French language.

He was unwilling, he said, to part from his people without a few words
from his own lips. It was now forty years since he had been intrusted
with the sceptre of the Netherlands. He was soon after called to take
charge of a still more extensive empire, both in Spain and in Germany,
involving a heavy responsibility for one so young. He had, however,
endeavored earnestly to do his duty to the best of his abilities. He had
been ever mindful of the interests of the dear land of his birth, but,
above all, of the great interests of Christianity. His first object had
been to maintain these inviolate against the infidel. In this he had
been thwarted, partly by the jealousy of neighboring powers, and partly
by the factions of the heretical princes of Germany.

In the performance of his great work, he had never consulted his ease.
His expeditions, in war and in peace, to France, England, Germany,
Italy, Spain, and Flanders, had amounted to no less than forty. Four
times he had crossed the Spanish seas, and eight times the
Mediterranean. He had shrunk from no toil, while he had the strength to
endure it. But a cruel malady had deprived him of that strength.
Conscious of his inability to discharge the duties of his station, he
had long since come to the resolution to relinquish it. From this he had
been diverted only by the situation of his unfortunate parent, and by
the inexperience of his son. These objections no longer existed; and he
should not stand excused, in the eye of Heaven or of the world, if he
should insist on still holding the reins of government when he was
incapable of managing them,--when every year his incapacity must become
more obvious.

[Sidenote: CEREMONY OF ABDICATION]

He begged them to believe that this, and no other motive, induced him to
resign the sceptre which he had so long swayed. They had been to him
dutiful and loving subjects; and such, he doubted not, they would prove
to his successor. Above all things, he besought them to maintain the
purity of the faith. If any one, in these licentious times, had admitted
doubts into his bosom, let such doubts be extirpated at once. "I know
well," he concluded, "that, in my long administration, I have fallen
into many errors, and committed some wrongs, but it was from ignorance;
and, if there be any here whom I have wronged, they will believe that it
was not intended, and grant me their forgiveness."[7]

While the emperor was speaking, a breathless silence pervaded the whole
audience. Charles had ever been dear to the people of the
Netherlands,--the land of his birth. They took a national pride in his
achievements, and felt that his glory reflected a peculiar lustre on
themselves. As they now gazed for the last time on that revered form,
and listened to the parting admonitions from his lips, they were deeply
affected, and not a dry eye was to be seen in the assembly.

After a short interval, Charles, turning to Philip, who, in an attitude
of deep respect, stood awaiting his commands, he thus addressed
him:--"If the vast possessions which are now bestowed on you had come by
inheritance, there would be abundant cause for gratitude. How much more,
when they come as a free gift in the lifetime of your father! But,
however large the debt, I shall consider it all repaid, if you only
discharge your duty to your subjects. So rule over them, that men shall
commend, and not censure me for the part I am now acting. Go on as you
have begun. Fear God; live justly; respect the laws; above all, cherish
the interests of religion; and may the Almighty bless you with a son, to
whom, when old and stricken with disease, you may be able to resign your
kingdom with the same good-will with which I now resign mine to you."

As he ceased, Philip, much affected, would have thrown himself at his
father's feet, assuring him of his intention to do all in his power to
merit such goodness; but Charles, raising his son, tenderly embraced
him, while the tears flowed fast down his cheeks. Every one, even the
most stoical, was touched by this affecting scene; "and nothing," says
one who was present, "was to be heard, throughout the hall, but sobs and
ill-suppressed moans." Charles, exhausted by his efforts, and deadly
pale, sank back upon his seat; while, with feeble accents, he exclaimed,
as he gazed on his people, "God bless you! God bless you!"[8]

After these emotions had somewhat subsided, Philip arose, and,
delivering himself in French, briefly told the deputies of the regret
which he felt at not being able to address them in their native
language, and to assure them of the favor and high regard in which he
held them. This would be done for him by the bishop of Arras.

This was Antony Perennot, better known as Cardinal Granvelle, son of the
famous minister of Charles the Fifth, and destined himself to a still
higher celebrity as the minister of Philip the Second. In clear and
fluent language, he gave the deputies the promise of their new sovereign
to respect the laws and liberties of the nation; invoking them, on his
behalf, to aid him with their counsels, and, like royal vassals, to
maintain the authority of the law in his dominions. After a suitable
response from the deputies, filled with sentiments of regret for the
loss of their late monarch, and with those of loyalty to their new one,
the Regent Mary formally abdicated her authority, and the session
closed. So ended a ceremony, which, considering the importance of its
consequences, the character of the actors, and the solemnity of the
proceedings, is one of the most remarkable in history. That the crown of
the monarch is lined with thorns, is a trite maxim; and it requires no
philosophy to teach us that happiness does not depend on station. Yet,
numerous as are the instances of those who have waded to a throne
through seas of blood, there are but few who, when they have once tasted
the sweets of sovereignty, have been content to resign them; still fewer
who, when they have done so, have had the philosophy to conform to their
change of condition, and not to repent it. Charles, as the event proved,
was one of these few.

On the sixteenth day of January, 1556, in the presence of such of the
Spanish nobility as were at the court, he executed the deeds by which he
ceded the sovereignty of Castile and Aragon, with their dependencies, to
Philip.[9]

The last act that remained for him to perform was to resign the crown of
Germany in favor of his brother Ferdinand. But this he consented to
defer some time longer, at the request of Ferdinand himself, who wished
to prepare the minds of the electoral college for this unexpected
transfer of the imperial sceptre. But, while Charles consented to retain
for the present the title of Emperor, the real power and the burden of
sovereignty would remain with Ferdinand.[10]

At the time of abdicating the throne of the Netherlands, Charles was
still at war with France. He had endeavored to negotiate a permanent
peace with that country; and, although he failed in this, he had the
satisfaction, on the fifth of February, 1556, to arrange a truce for
five years, which left both powers in the possession of their respective
conquests. In the existing state of these conquests, the truce was by no
means favorable to Spain. But Charles would have made even larger
concessions, rather than leave the legacy of a war to his less
experienced successor.

[Sidenote: HIS RETURN TO SPAIN]

Having thus completed all his arrangements, by which the most powerful
prince of Europe descended to the rank of a private gentleman, Charles
had no longer reason to defer his departure, and he proceeded to the
place of embarkation. He was accompanied by a train of Flemish
courtiers, and by the foreign ambassadors, to the latter of whom he
warmly commended the interests of his son. A fleet of fifty-six sail was
riding at anchor in the port of Flushing, ready to transport him and his
retinue to Spain. From the imperial household, consisting of seven
hundred and sixty-two persons, he selected a hundred and fifty as his
escort; and accompanied by his sisters, after taking an affectionate
farewell of Philip, whose affairs detained him in Flanders, on the
thirteenth of September he sailed from the harbor of Flushing.

The passage was a boisterous one; and Charles, who suffered greatly from
his old enemy, the gout, landed, in a feeble state, at Laredo, in
Biscay, on the twenty-eighth of the month. Scarcely had he left the
vessel, when a storm fell with fury on the fleet, and did some mischief
to the shipping in the harbor. The pious Spaniard saw in this the finger
of Providence, which had allowed no harm to the squadron till its royal
freight had been brought safely to the shore.[11]

On landing, Charles complained, and with some reason, of the scanty
preparations that had been made for him. Philip had written several
times to his sister, the regent, ordering her to have everything ready
for the emperor on his arrival.[12] Joanna had accordingly issued her
orders to that effect. But promptness and punctuality are not virtues of
the Spaniard. Some apology may be found for their deficiency in the
present instance; as Charles himself had so often postponed his
departure from the Low Countries, that, when he did come, the people
were, in a manner, taken by surprise. That the neglect was not
intentional is evident from their subsequent conduct.[13]

Charles, whose infirmities compelled him to be borne in a litter, was
greeted, everywhere on the road, like a sovereign returning to his
dominions. It was evening when he reached the ancient city of Burgos;
and, as he passed through its illuminated streets the bells rang
merrily, to give him welcome. He remained there three days, experiencing
the hospitalities of the great constable, and receiving the homage of
the northern lords, as well as of the people, who thronged the route by
which he was to pass. At Torquemada, among those who came to pay their
respects to their former master was Gasca, the good president of Peru.
He had been sent to America to suppress the insurrection of Gonzalo
Pizarro, and restore tranquillity to the country. In the execution of
this delicate mission, he succeeded so well, that the emperor, on his
return, had raised him to the see of Plasencia; and the excellent man
now lived in his diocese, where, in the peaceful discharge of his
episcopal functions, he probably enjoyed far greater contentment than
he could have derived from the dazzling, but difficult post of an
American viceroy.

From Torquemada, Charles slowly proceeded to Valladolid, where his
daughter, the Regent Joanna, was then holding her court. Preparations
were made for receiving him in a manner suited to his former rank. But
Charles positively declined these honours, reserving them for his two
sisters, the dowager queens of France and Hungary, who accordingly made
their entrance into the capital in great state, on the day following
that on which their royal brother had entered it with the simplicity of
a private citizen.

He remained here some time, in order to recover from the fatigue of his
journey; and, although he took little part in the festivities of the
court, he gave audience to his ancient ministers, and to such of the
Castilian grandees as were eager to render him their obeisance. At the
court he had also the opportunity of seeing his grandson Carlos, the
heir of the monarchy; and his quick eye, it is said, in this short time,
saw enough in the prince's deportment to fill him with ominous
forebodings.

Charles prolonged his stay fourteen days in Valladolid, during which
time his health was much benefited by the purity and the dryness of the
atmosphere. On his departure, his royal sisters would have borne him
company, and even have fixed their permanent residence near his own. But
to this he would not consent; and, taking a tender farewell of every
member of his family,--as one who was never to behold them again,--he
resumed his journey.

The place he had chosen for his retreat was the monastery of Yuste, in
the province of Estremadura, not many miles from Plasencia. On his way
thither he halted near three months at Jarandilla, the residence of the
count of Oropesa, waiting there for the completion of some repairs that
were going on in the monastery, as well as for the remittance of a
considerable sum of money, which he was daily expecting. This he
required chiefly to discharge the arrears due to some of his old
retainers; and the failure of the remittance has brought some obloquy on
Philip, who could so soon show himself unmindful of his obligations to
his father. But the blame should rather be charged on Philip's ministers
than on Philip, absent as he was at that time from the country, and
incapable of taking personal cognizance of the matter. Punctuality in
his pecuniary engagements was a virtue to which neither Charles nor
Philip--the masters of the Indies--could at any time lay claim. But the
imputation of parsimony, or even indifference, on the part of the
latter, in his relations with his father, is fully disproved by the
subsequent history of that monarch at the convent of Yuste.[14]

[Sidenote: BIRTH OF PHILIP.]

This place, it is said, had attracted his eye many years before, when on
a visit to that part of the country, and he marked it for his future
residence. The convent was tenanted by monks of the strictest order of
Saint Jerome. But, however strict in their monastic rule, the good
fathers showed much taste in the selection of their ground, as well as
in the embellishment of it. It lay in a wild, romantic country,
embosomed among hills that stretch along the northern confines of
Estremadura. The building, which was of great antiquity, had been
surrounded by its inmates with cultivated gardens, and with groves of
orange, lemon, and myrtle, whose fragrance was tempered by the
refreshing coolness of the waters that gushed forth in abundance from
the rocky sides of the hills. It was a delicious retreat, and, by its
calm seclusion and the character of its scenery, was well suited to
withdraw the mind from the turmoil of the world, and dispose it to
serious meditation. Here the monarch, after a life of restless ambition,
proposed to spend the brief remainder of his days, and dedicate it to
the salvation of his soul. He could not, however, as the event proved,
close his heart against all sympathy with mankind, nor refuse to take
some part in the great questions which then agitated the world. Charles
was not master of that ignoble philosophy which enabled Diocletian to
turn with contentment from the cares of an empire to those of a
cabbage-garden.--In this retirement we must now leave the royal recluse,
while we follow the opening career of the prince whose reign is the
subject of the present history.




CHAPTER II.

EARLY DAYS OF PHILIP.

Birth of Philip the Second.--His Education.--Intrusted with the
Regency.--Marries Mary of Portugal.--Visit to Flanders.--Public
Festivities.--Ambitious Schemes.--Returns to Spain.

1527-1551.


Philip the Second was born at Valladolid, on the twenty-first of May,
1527. His mother was the Empress Isabella, daughter of Emanuel the Great
of Portugal. By his father he was descended from the ducal houses of
Burgundy and Austria. By both father and mother he claimed a descent
from Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic of Spain. As by blood he was
half a Spaniard, so by temperament and character he proved to be wholly
so.

The ceremony of his baptism was performed with all due solemnity, by
Tavera, archbishop of Toledo, on the twenty-fifth of June, when the
royal infant received the name of Philip, after his paternal
grandfather, Philip the Handsome, whose brief reign--for which he was
indebted to his union with Joanna, queen-proprietor of Castile--has
hardly secured him a place in the line of Castilian sovereigns.

The birth of a son--the heir of so magnificent an empire--was hailed
with delight both by Charles and by the whole nation, who prepared to
celebrate it in a style worthy of the event, when tidings reached them
of the capture of Pope Clement the Seventh and the sack of Rome by the
Spanish troops under the constable de Bourbon. The news of this event,
and the cruelties inflicted by the conquerors, filled all Europe with
consternation. Even the Protestants, who had no superfluous sympathy to
spare for the sufferings of the pope, were shocked by the perpetration
of atrocities compared with which the conduct of Attila and Alaric might
almost be deemed merciful. Whatever responsibility may attach to Charles
on the score of the expedition, it would be injustice to him to suppose
that he did not share in the general indignation at the manner in which
it was conducted. At all events, he could hardly venture to outrage the
feelings of Christendom so far as to take the present moment for one of
public rejoicing. Orders were instantly issued to abandon the intended
festivities, greatly to the discontent of the people, whose sympathy for
the pope did not by any means incline them to put this restraint on the
expression of their loyalty; and they drew from the disappointment an
uncomfortable augury that the reign of the young prince boded no good to
the Catholic religion.[15]

It was not long, however, before the people of Castile had an
opportunity for the full display of their enthusiasm, on the occasion of
Philip's recognition as rightful heir to the crown. The ceremony was
conducted with great pomp and splendor in the cortes at Madrid, on the
nineteenth of April, 1528, when he was but eleven months old. The prince
was borne in the arms of his mother, who, with the emperor, was present
on the occasion; while the nobles, the clergy, and the commons took the
oath of allegiance to the royal infant, as successor to the crown of
Castile. The act of homage was no sooner published, than the nation, as
if by way of compensation for the past, abandoned itself to a general
jubilee. Illuminations and bonfires were lighted up in all the towns and
villages; while everywhere were to be seen dancing, bull-fights, tilts
of reeds, and the other national games of that chivalrous and romantic
land.

Soon after this, Charles was called by his affairs to other parts of his
far-extended empire, and he left his infant son to the care of a
Portuguese lady, Doña Leonor Mascareñas, or rather to that of the
Empress Isabella, in whose prudence and maternal watchfulness he could
safely confide. On the emperor's return to Spain, when his son was
hardly seven years old, he formed for him a separate establishment, and
selected two persons for the responsible office of superintending his
education.[16]

One of these personages was Juan Martinez Siliceo, at that time
professor in the College of Salamanca. He was a man of piety and
learning, of an accommodating temper,--too accommodating, it appears
from some of Charles's letters, for the good of his pupil, though not,
as it would seem, for his own good, since he found such favor with the
prince, that, from an humble ecclesiastic, he was subsequently preferred
to the highest dignities of the Church.

[Sidenote: HIS EDUCATION.]

Under him Philip was instructed in the ancient classics, and made such
progress in Latin, that he could write it, and did write it frequently
in after life, with ease and correctness. He studied, also, Italian and
French. He seems to have had little knowledge of the former, but French
he could speak indifferently well, though he was rarely inclined to
venture beyond his own tongue. He showed a more decided taste for
science, especially the mathematics. He made a careful study of the
principles of architecture; and the fruits of this study are to be seen
in some of the noblest monuments erected in that flourishing period of
the arts. In sculpture and painting he also made some proficiency, and
became, in later life, no contemptible critic,--at least for a
sovereign.

The other functionary charged with Philip's education was Don Juan de
Zuñiga, commendador mayor of Castile. He taught his pupil to fence, to
ride, to take his part at the tilts and tourneys, and, in short, to
excel in the chivalrous exercises familiar to cavaliers of his time. He
encouraged Philip to invigorate his constitution by the hardy pleasures
of the chase, to which, however, he was but little addicted as he
advanced in years.

But, besides these personal accomplishments, no one was better qualified
than Zuñiga to instruct his people in the duties belonging to his royal
station. He was a man of ancient family, and had passed much of his life
in courts. But he had none of the duplicity or of the suppleness which
often marks the character of the courtier. He possessed too high a
sentiment of honor to allow him to trifle with truth. He spoke his mind
plainly, too plainly sometimes for the taste of his pupil. Charles, who
understood the character of Zuñiga, wrote to his son to honor and to
cherish him. "If he deals plainly with you," he said, "it is for the
love he bears you. If he were to flatter you, and be only solicitous of
ministering to your wishes, he would be like all the rest of the world,
and you would have no one near to tell you the truth;--and a worse thing
cannot happen to any man, old or young; but most of all to the young,
from their want of experience to discern truth from error." The wise
emperor, who knew how rarely it is that truth is permitted to find its
way to royal ears, set a just value on the man who had the courage to
speak it.[17]

Under the influence of these teachers, and, still more, of the
circumstances in which he was placed,--the most potent teachers of
all,--Philip grew in years, and slowly unfolded the peculiar qualities
of his disposition. He seemed cautious and reserved in his demeanor, and
slow of speech; yet what he said had a character of thought beyond his
age. At no time did he discover that buoyancy of spirit, or was he
betrayed into those sallies of temper, which belong to a bold and
adventurous, and often to a generous nature. His deportment was marked
by a seriousness that to some might seem to savor of melancholy. He was
self-possessed, so that even as a boy he was rarely off his guard.[18]

The emperor, whose affairs called him away from Spain much the greater
part of his time, had not the power of personally superintending the
education of his son. Unfortunately for the latter, his excellent mother
died when he was but twelve years old. Charles, who loved his wife as
much as a man is capable of loving whose soul is filled with schemes of
boundless ambition, was at Madrid when he received tidings of her
illness. He posted in all haste to Toledo, where the queen then was, but
arrived there only in time to embrace her cold remains before they were
consigned to the sepulchre. The desolate monarch abandoned himself to an
agony of grief, and was with difficulty withdrawn from the apartment by
his attendants, to indulge his solitary regrets in the neighboring
monastery of La Sisla.

Isabella well deserved to be mourned by her husband. She was a woman
from all accounts, possessed of many high and generous qualities. Such
was her fortitude, that, at the time of her confinement, she was never
heard to utter a groan. She seemed to think any demonstration of
suffering a weakness, and had the chamber darkened that her attendants
might not see the distress painted on her countenance.[19] With this
constancy of spirit, she united many feminine virtues. The palace, under
her rule, became a school of industry. Instead of wasting her leisure
hours in frivolous pleasures, she might be seen busily occupied, with
her maidens, in the elegant labors of the loom; and, like her ancestor,
the good Queen Isabella the Catholic, she sent more than one piece of
tapestry, worked by her own hands, to adorn the altars of Jerusalem.
These excellent qualities were enhanced by manners so attractive, that
her effigy was struck on a medal, with a device of the three Graces on
the reverse side, bearing the motto, _Has Habet et superat_.[20]

Isabella was but thirty-six years old at the time of her death. Charles
was not forty. He never married again. Yet the bereavement seems to have
had little power to soften his nature, or incline him to charity for the
misconduct, or compassion for the misfortunes of others. It was but a
few months after the death of his wife, that, on occasion of the
insurrection of Ghent, he sought a passage through the territory of his
ancient enemy of France, descended on the offending city, and took such
vengeance on its wretched inhabitants as made all Europe ring with his
cruelty.[21]

Philip was too young at this time to take part in the administration of
the kingdom during his father's absence. But he was surrounded by able
statesmen, who familiarized him with ideas of government, by admitting
him to see the workings of the machinery which he was one day to direct.
Charles was desirous that the attention of his son, even in boyhood,
should be turned to those affairs which were to form the great business
of his future life. It seems even thus early--at this period of mental
depression--the emperor cherished the plan of anticipating the natural
consequence of his decease, by resigning his dominions into the hands of
Philip so soon as he should be qualified to rule them.

No event occurred to disturb the tranquillity of Spain during the
emperor's absence from that country, to which he returned in the winter
of 1541. It was after his disastrous expedition against Algiers,--the
most disastrous of any that he had yet undertaken. He there saw his navy
sunk or scattered by the tempest, and was fortunate in finding a
shelter, with its shattered remnants, in the port of Carthagena. Soon
after landing, he received a letter from Philip, condoling with him on
his losses, and striving to cheer him with the reflection, that they had
been caused by the elements, not by his enemies. With this tone of
philosophy were mingled expressions of sympathy; and Charles may have
been gratified with the epistle,--if he could believe it the
composition of his son.[22] Philip soon after this made a journey to
the south; and, in the society of one who was now the chief object of
his affections, the emperor may have found the best consolation in his
misfortunes.

[Sidenote: INTRUSTED WITH THE REGENCY.]

The French had availed themselves of the troubled state of Charles's
affairs to make a descent upon Roussillon; and the Dauphin now lay in
some strength before the gates of Perpignan. The emperor considered this
a favorable moment for Philip to take his first lesson in war. The
prince accordingly posted to Valladolid. A considerable force was
quickly mustered; and Philip, taking the command, and supported by some
of the most experienced of his father's generals, descended rapidly
towards the coast. But the Dauphin did not care to wait for his
approach; and, breaking up his camp, he retreated, without striking a
blow, in all haste, across the mountains. Philip entered the town in
triumph, and soon after returned, with the unstained laurels of victory,
to receive his father's congratulations. The promptness of his movements
on this occasion gained him credit with the Spaniards; and the fortunate
result seemed to furnish a favorable augury for the future.

On his return, the prince was called to preside over the cortes at
Monzon,--a central town, where the deputies of Aragon, Catalonia, and
Valencia continued to assemble separately, long after those provinces
had been united to Castile. Philip, with all the forms prescribed by the
constitution, received the homage of the representatives assembled, as
successor to the crown of Aragon.

The war with France, which, after a temporary suspension, had broken out
with greater violence than ever, did not permit the emperor long to
protract his stay in the Peninsula. Indeed, it seemed to his Spanish
subjects that he rarely visited them, except when his exchequer required
to be replenished for carrying on his restless enterprises, and that he
stayed no longer than was necessary to effect this object. On leaving
the country, he intrusted the regency to Philip, under the general
direction of a council consisting of the duke of Alva, Cardinal Tavera,
and the Commendador Cobos. Some time after this, while still lingering
in Catalonia, previous to his embarkation, Charles addressed a letter to
his son, advising him as to his political course, and freely criticising
the characters of the great lords associated with him in the government.
The letter, which is altogether a remarkable document, contains, also,
some wholesome admonitions on Philip's private conduct. "The duke of
Alva," the emperor emphatically wrote, "is the ablest statesman and the
best soldier I have in my dominions. Consult him, above all, in military
affairs; but do not depend upon him entirely in these or in any other
matters. Depend on no one but yourself. The grandees will be too happy
to secure your favor, and through you to govern the land. But, if you
are thus governed, it will be your ruin. The mere suspicion of it will
do you infinite prejudice. Make use of all; but lean exclusively on
none. In your perplexities, ever trust in your Maker. Have no care but
for him." The emperor then passes some strictures on the Commendador
Cobos, as too much inclined to pleasure, at the same time admonishing
Philip of the consequences of a libertine career, fatal alike, he tells
him, to both soul and body. There seems to have been some ground for
this admonition, as the young prince had shown a disposition to
gallantry, which did not desert him in later life. "Yet, on the whole,"
says the monarch, "I will admit I have much reason to be satisfied with
your behavior. But I would have you perfect; and, to speak frankly,
whatever other persons may tell you, you have some things to mend yet.
Your confessor," he continues, "is now your old preceptor, the bishop
of Carthagena,"--to which see the worthy professor had been recently
raised. "He is a good man, as all the world knows; but I hope he will
take better care of your conscience than he did of your studies, and
that he will not show quite so accommodating a temper in regard to the
former as he did with the latter."[23]

On the cover of this curious epistle the emperor indorsed a direction to
his son, to show it to no living person; but if he found himself ill at
any time, to destroy the letter, or seal it up under cover to him. It
would, indeed, have edified those courtiers, who fancied they stood
highest in the royal favor, to see how, to their very depths, their
characters were sounded, and how clearly their schemes of ambition were
revealed to the eye of their master. It was this admirable perception of
character which enabled Charles, so generally, to select the right agent
for the execution of his plans, and thus to insure their success.

The letter from Palamos is one among many similar proofs of the care
with which, even from a distance, Charles watched over his son's course,
and endeavored to form his character. The experienced navigator would
furnish a chart to the youthful pilot, by which, without other aid, he
might securely steer through seas strange and unknown to him. Yet there
was little danger in the navigation, at this period; for Spain lay in a
profound tranquillity, unruffled by a breath from the rude tempest,
that, in other parts of Europe, was unsettling princes on their thrones.

A change was now to take place in Philip's domestic relations. His
magnificent expectations made him, in the opinion of the world, the best
match in Europe. His father had long contemplated the event of his son's
marrying. He had first meditated an alliance for him with Margaret,
daughter of Francis the First, by which means the feud with his ancient
rival might be permanently healed. But Philip's inclination was turned
to an alliance with Portugal. This latter was finally adopted by
Charles; and, in December, 1542, Philip was betrothed to the Infanta
Mary, daughter of John the Third and of Catharine, the emperor's sister.
She was, consequently, cousin-german to Philip. At the same time,
Joanna, Charles's youngest daughter, was affianced to the eldest son of
John the Third, and heir to his crown. The intermarriages of the royal
houses of Castile and Portugal were so frequent, that the several
members stood in multiplied and most perplexing degrees of affinity with
one another.

Joanna was eight years younger than her brother. Charles had one other
child, Mary, born the year after Philip. She was destined to a more
splendid fortune than her sister, as bride of the future emperor of
Germany. Since Philip and the Portuguese princess were now both more
than sixteen years old, being nearly of the same age, it was resolved
that their marriage should no longer be deferred. The place appointed
for the ceremony was the ancient city of Salamanca.

[Sidenote: MARRIES MARY OF PORTUGAL.]

In October, 1543, the Portuguese infanta quitted her father's palace in
Lisbon, and set out for Castile. She was attended by a numerous train of
nobles, with the archbishop of Lisbon at their head. A splendid embassy
was sent to meet her on the borders, and conduct her to Salamanca. At
its head was the duke of Medina Sidonia, chief of the Guzmans, the
wealthiest and most powerful lord in Andalusia. He had fitted up his
palace at Badajoz in the most costly and sumptuous style, for the
accommodation of the princess. The hangings were of cloth of gold; the
couches, the sideboards, and some of the other furniture, of burnished
silver. The duke himself rode in a superb litter, and the mules which
carried it were shod with gold. The members of his household and his
retainers swelled to the number of three thousand, well mounted, wearing
the liveries and cognizance of their master. Among them was the duke's
private band, including several natives of the Indies,--then not a
familiar sight in Spain,--displaying on their breasts broad silver
escutcheons, on which were emblazoned the arms of the Guzmans. The
chronicler is diffuse in his account of the infanta's reception, from
which a few particulars may be selected for such as take an interest in
the Spanish costume and manners of the sixteenth century.

The infanta was five months younger than Philip. She was of the middle
size, with a good figure, though somewhat inclined to _embonpoint_, and
was distinguished by a graceful carriage and a pleasing expression of
countenance. Her dress was of cloth of silver, embroidered with flowers
of gold. She wore a _capa_, or Castilian mantle, of violet-colored
velvet, figured with gold, and a hat of the same materials, surmounted
by a white and azure plume. The housings of the mule were of rich
brocade, and Mary rode on a silver saddle.

As she approached Salamanca, she was met by the rector and professors of
the university, in their academic gowns. Next followed the judges and
_regidores_ of the city, in their robes of office, of crimson velvet,
with hose and shoes of spotless white. After these came the
military,--horse and foot,--in their several companies, making a
brilliant show with their gay uniforms; and, after going through their
various evolutions, they formed into an escort for the princess. In this
way, amidst the sound of music and the shouts of the multitude, the
glittering pageant entered the gates of the capital.

The infanta was there received under a superb canopy, supported by the
magistrates of the city. The late ambassador to Portugal, Don Luis
Sarmiento, who had negotiated the marriage treaty, held the bridle of
her mule; and in this state she arrived at the palace of the duke of
Alva, destined for her reception in Salamanca. Here she was received
with all honour by the duchess, in the presence of a brilliant company
of cavaliers and noble ladies. Each of the ladies was graciously
permitted by the infanta to kiss her hand; but the duchess, the
chronicler is careful to inform us, she distinguished by the honor of an
embrace.

All the while, Philip had been in the presence of the infanta, unknown
to herself. Impatient to see his destined bride, the young prince had
sallied out, with a few attendants, to the distance of five or six miles
from the city, all in the disguise of huntsmen. He wore a slouched
velvet hat on his head, and his face was effectually concealed under a
gauze mask, so that he could mingle in the crowd by the side of the
infanta, and make his own scrutiny, unmarked by any one. In this way he
accompanied the procession during the five hours which it lasted, until
the darkness had set in; "if darkness could be spoken of," says the
chronicler, "where the blaze of ten thousand torches shed a light
stronger than day."

The following evening, November the twelfth, was appointed for the
marriage. The duke and duchess of Alva stood as sponsors, and the
nuptial ceremony was performed by Tavera, archbishop of Toledo. The
festivities were prolonged through another week. The saloons were filled
with the beauty of Castile. The proudest aristocracy in Europe vied with
each other in the display of magnificence at the banquet and the
tourney: and sounds of merriment succeeded to the tranquillity which had
so long reigned in the cloistered shades of Salamanca.

On the nineteenth of the month the new-married pair transferred their
residence to Valladolid,--a city at once fortunate and fatal to the
princess. Well might the chronicler call it "fatal;" for, in less than
two years, July 8th, 1545, she there gave birth to a son, the
celebrated Don Carlos, whose mysterious fate has furnished so fruitful a
theme for speculation. Mary survived the birth of her child but a few
days. Had her life been spared, a mother's care might perhaps have given
a different direction to his character, and, through this, to his
fortunes. The remains of the infanta, first deposited in the cathedral
of Granada, were afterwards removed to the Escorial, that magnificent
mausoleum prepared by her husband for the royalty of Spain.[24]

In the following year died Tavera, archbishop of Toledo. He was an
excellent man, and greatly valued by the emperor; who may be thought to
have passed a sufficient encomium on his worth when he declared, that
"by his death Philip had suffered a greater loss than by that of Mary;
for he could get another wife, but not another Tavera." His place was
filled by Siliceo, Philip's early preceptor, who, after having been
raised to the archiepiscopal see of Toledo, received a cardinal's hat
from Rome. The accommodating spirit of the good ecclesiastic had
doubtless some influence in his rapid advancement from the condition of
a poor teacher in Salamanca to the highest post,--as the see of Toledo,
with its immense revenues and authority, might be considered,--next to
the papacy, in the Christian Church.

For some years, no event of importance occurred to disturb the repose of
the Peninsula. But the emperor was engaged in a stormy career abroad, in
which his arms were at length crowned with success by the decisive
battle of Muhlberg.

This victory, which secured him the person of his greatest enemy, placed
him in a position for dictating terms to the Protestant princes of
Germany. He had subsequently withdrawn to Brussels, where he received an
embassy from Philip, congratulating him on the success of his arms.
Charles was desirous to see his son, from whom he had now been separated
nearly six years. He wished, moreover, to introduce him to the
Netherlands, and make him personally acquainted with the people over
whom he was one day to rule. He sent instructions, accordingly, to
Philip, to repair to Flanders, so soon as the person appointed to
relieve him in the government should arrive in Castile.

The individual selected by the emperor for this office was Maximilian,
the son of his brother Ferdinand. He was a young man of good parts,
correct judgment, and popular manners,--well qualified, notwithstanding
his youth, for the post assigned to him. He was betrothed, as already
mentioned, to the emperor's eldest daughter, his cousin Mary; and the
regency was to be delivered into his hands on the marriage of the
parties.

Philip received his father's commands while presiding at the cortes of
Monzon. He found the Aragonese legislature by no means so tractable as
the Castilian. The deputies from the mountains of Aragon and from the
sea-coast of Catalonia were alike sturdy in their refusal to furnish
further supplies for those ambitious enterprises, which, whatever glory
they might bring to their sovereign, were of little benefit to them. The
independent people of these provinces urged their own claims with a
pertinacity, and criticized the conduct of their rulers with a
bluntness, that was little grateful to the ear of majesty. The
convocation of the Aragonese cortes was, in the view of the king of
Spain, what the convocation of a general council was in that of the
pope,--a measure not to be resorted to but from absolute necessity.

On the arrival of Maximilian in Castile, his marriage with the Infanta
Mary was immediately celebrated. The ceremony took place, with all the
customary pomp, in the courtly city of Valladolid. Among the festivities
that followed may be noticed the performance of a comedy of Ariosto,--a
proof that the beautiful Italian literature, which had exercised a
visible influence on the compositions of the great Castilian poets of
the time, had now commended itself, in some degree, to the popular
taste.

Before leaving the country, Philip, by his father's orders, made a
change in his domestic establishment, which he formed on the Burgundian
model. This was more ceremonious, and far more costly, than the
primitive usage of Castile. A multitude of new offices was created, and
the most important were filled by grandees of the highest class. The
duke of Alva was made _mayor-domo mayor_; Antonio de Toledo, his
kinsman, master of the horse; Figueroa, count of Feria, captain of the
body-guard. Among the chamberlains was Ruy Gomez de Silva, prince of
Eboli, one of the most important members of the cabinet under Philip.
Even the menial offices connected with the person and table of the
prince were held by men of rank. A guard was lodged in the palace.
Philip dined in public in great state, attended by his kings-at-arms,
and by a host of minstrels and musicians. One is reminded of the pompous
etiquette of the court of Louis the Fourteenth. All this, however, was
distasteful to the Spaniards, who did not comprehend why the prince
should relinquish the simple usages of his own land for the fashions of
Burgundy. Neither was it to the taste of Philip himself; but it suited
that of his father, who was desirous that his son should flatter the
Flemings by the assumption of a state to which they had been accustomed
in their Burgundian princes.[25]

Philip, having now completed his arrangements, and surrendered the
regency into the hands of his brother-in-law, had no reason longer to
postpone his journey. He was accompanied by the duke of Alva, Enriquez,
high-admiral of Castile, Ruy Gomez, prince of Eboli, and a long train of
persons of the highest rank. There was, besides, a multitude of younger
cavaliers of family. The proudest nobles of the land contended for the
honor of having their sons take part in the expedition. The number was
still further augmented by a body of artists and men of science. The
emperor was desirous that Philip should make an appearance that would
dazzle the imaginations of the people among whom he passed.

With this brilliant company, Philip began his journey in the autumn of
1548. He took the road to Saragossa, made an excursion to inspect the
fortifications of Perpignan, offered up his prayers at the shrine of Our
Lady of Montserrat, passed a day or two at Barcelona, enjoying the fête
prepared for him in the pleasant citron-gardens of the cardinal of
Trent, and thence proceeded to the port of Rosas, where a Genoese fleet,
over which proudly waved the imperial banner, was riding at anchor, and
awaiting his arrival. It consisted of fifty-eight vessels, furnished by
Genoa, Sicily, and Naples, and commanded by the veteran of a hundred
battles, the famous Andrew Doria.

Philip encountered some rough weather on his passage to Genoa. The doge
and the principal senators came out of port in a magnificent galley to
receive him. The prince landed, amidst the roar of cannon from the walls
and the adjacent fortifications, and was forthwith conducted to the
mansion of the Dorias, preëminent, even in this city of palaces, for
its architectural splendor.

During his stay in Genoa, Philip received all the attentions which an
elegant hospitality could devise. But his hours were not wholly resigned
to pleasure. He received, every day, embassies from the different
Italian states, one of which came from the pope, Paul the Third, with
his nephew, Ottavio Farnese, at its head. Its especial object was to
solicit the prince's interest with his father, for the restitution of
Parma and Placentia to the Holy See. Philip answered in terms
complimentary, indeed, says the historian, "but sufficiently ambiguous
as to the essential."[26] He had already learned his first lesson in
kingcraft. Not long after, the pope sent him a consecrated sword, and
the hat worn by his holiness on Christmas eve, accompanied by an
autograph letter, in which, after expatiating on the mystic import of
his gift, he expressed his confidence that in Philip he was one day to
find the true champion of the Church.

At the end of a fortnight, the royal traveller resumed his journey. He
crossed the famous battle-field of Pavia, and was shown the place where
Francis the First surrendered himself a prisoner, and where the Spanish
ambuscade sallied out and decided the fortune of the day. His bosom
swelled with exultation, as he rode over the ground made memorable by
the most brilliant victory achieved by his father,--a victory which
opened the way to the implacable hatred of his vanquished rival, and to
oceans of blood.

From Pavia he passed on to Milan, the flourishing capital of
Lombardy,--the fairest portion of the Spanish dominions in Italy. Milan
was, at that time, second only to Naples in population. It was second to
no city in the elegance of its buildings, the splendor of its
aristocracy, the opulence and mechanical ingenuity of its burghers. It
was renowned, at the same time, for its delicate fabrics of silk, and
its armor, curiously wrought and inlaid with gold and silver. In all the
arts of luxury and material civilization, it was unsurpassed by any of
the capitals of Christendom.

As the prince approached the suburbs, a countless throng of people came
forth to greet him. For fifteen miles before he entered the city, the
road was spanned by triumphal arches, garlanded with flowers and fruits,
and bearing inscriptions, both in Latin and Italian, filled with praises
of the father and prognostics of the future glory of the son. Amidst the
concourse were to be seen the noble ladies of Milan, in gay, fantastic
cars, shining in silk brocade, and with sumptuous caparisons for their
horses. As he drew near the town, two hundred mounted gentlemen came out
to escort him into the place. They were clothed in complete mail of the
fine Milanese workmanship, and were succeeded by fifty pages in gaudy
livery, devoted to especial attendance on the prince's person, during
his residence in Milan.

Philip entered the gates under a canopy of state, with the cardinal of
Trent on his right hand, and Philibert, prince of Piedmont, on his left.
He was received, at the entrance, by the governor of the place, attended
by the members of the senate, in their robes of office. The houses which
lined the long street through which the procession passed were hung with
tapestries, and with paintings of the great Italian masters. The
balconies and verandahs were crowded with spectators, eager to behold
their future sovereign, and rending the air with their acclamations. The
ceremony of reception was closed, in the evening, by a brilliant display
of fireworks,--in which the Milanese excelled,--and by a general
illumination of the city.

[Sidenote: VISIT TO FLANDERS]

Philip's time glided away, during his residence at Milan, in a
succession of banquets, _fêtes_, and spectacles of every description
which the taste and ingenuity of the people could devise for the
amusement of their illustrious guest. With none was he more pleased than
with the theatrical entertainments, conducted with greater elegance and
refinement in Italy than in any of the countries beyond the Alps. Nor
was he always a passive spectator at these festivities. He was
especially fond of dancing, in which his light and agile figure fitted
him to excel. In the society of ladies he lost much of his habitual
reserve; and the dignified courtesy of his manners seems to have made a
favorable impression on the fair dames of Italy, who were probably not
less pleased by the display of his munificence. To the governor's wife,
who had entertained him at a splendid ball, he presented a diamond ring
worth five thousand ducats; and to her daughter he gave a necklace of
rubies worth three thousand. Similar presents, of less value, he
bestowed on others of the court, extending his liberality even to the
musicians and inferior persons who had contributed to his entertainment.
To the churches he gave still more substantial proofs of his generosity.
In short, he showed, on all occasions, a munificent spirit worthy of his
royal station.

He took some pains, moreover, to reciprocate the civilities he had
received, by entertaining his hosts in return. He was particularly
fortunate in exhibiting to them a curious spectacle, which, even with
this pleasure-loving people, had the rare merit of novelty. This was the
graceful tourney introduced into Castile from the Spanish Arabs. The
highest nobles in his suite took the lead in it. The cavaliers were
arranged in six quadrilles, or factions, each wearing its distinctive
livery and badges, with their heads protected by shawls, or turbans,
wreathed around them in the Moorish fashion. They were mounted _à la
gineta_, that is, on the light jennet of Andalusia,--a cross of the
Arabian. In their hands they brandished their slender lances, with long
streamers attached to them, of some gay color, that denoted the
particular faction of the cavalier. Thus lightly equipped and mounted,
the Spanish knights went through the delicate manœuvres of the Moorish
tilt of reeds, showing an easy horsemanship, and performing feats of
agility and grace, which delighted the Italians, keenly alive to the
beautiful, but hitherto accustomed only to the more ponderous and clumsy
exercises of the European tourney.[27]

After some weeks, Prince Philip quitted the hospitable walls of Milan,
and set out for the north. Before leaving the place, he was joined by a
body of two hundred mounted arquebusiers, wearing his own yellow
uniform, and commanded by the duke of Arschot. They had been sent to him
as an escort by his father. He crossed the Tyrol, then took the road by
the way of Munich, Trent, and Heidelberg, and so on towards Flanders. On
all the route, the royal party was beset by multitudes of both sexes,
pressing to catch a glimpse of the young prince who was one day to sway
the mightiest sceptre in Europe. The magistrates of the cities through
which he passed welcomed him with complimentary addresses, and with
presents, frequently in the form of silver urns, or goblets, filled with
golden ducats. Philip received the donatives with a gracious
condescension; and, in truth, they did not come amiss in this season of
lavish expenditure. To the addresses, the duke of Alva, who rode by the
prince's side, usually responded. The whole of the long journey was
performed on horseback,--the only sure mode of conveyance in a country
where the roads were seldom practicable for carriages.

At length, after a journey of four months, the royal cavalcade drew
near the city of Brussels. Their approach to a great town was intimated
by the crowds who came to welcome them; and Philip was greeted with a
tumultuous enthusiasm, which made him feel that he was now indeed in the
midst of his own people. The throng was soon swelled by bodies of the
military; and with this loyal escort, amidst the roar of artillery and
the ringing of bells, which sent forth a merry peal from every tower and
steeple, Philip made his first entrance into the capital of Belgium.

The Regent Mary held her court there, and her brother, the emperor, was
occupying the palace with her. It was not long before the father had
again the satisfaction of embracing his son, from whom he had been
separated so many years. He must have been pleased with the alteration
which time had wrought in Philip's appearance. He was now twenty-one
years of age, and was distinguished by a comeliness of person, remarked
upon by more than one who had access to his presence. Their report is
confirmed by the portraits of him from the pencil of Titian,--taken
before the freshness of youth had faded into the sallow hue of disease,
and when care and anxiety had not yet given a sombre, perhaps sullen,
expression, to his features.

He had a fair, and even delicate complexion. His hair and beard were of
a light yellow. His eyes were blue, with the eyebrows somewhat too
closely knit together. His nose was thin and aquiline. The principal
blemish in his countenance was his thick Austrian lip. His lower jaw
protruded even more than that of his father. To his father, indeed, he
bore a great resemblance in his lineaments, though those of Philip were
of a less intellectual cast. In stature he was somewhat below the middle
height, with a slight, symmetrical figure and well-made limbs. He was
attentive to his dress, which was rich and elegant, but without any
affectation of ornament. His demeanor was grave with that ceremonious
observance which marked the old Castilian, and which may be thought the
natural expression of Philip's slow and phlegmatic temperament.[28]

During his long residence in Brussels, Charles had the opportunity of
superintending his son's education in one department in which it was
deficient,--the science of government. And, surely, no instructor could
have been found with larger experience than the man who had been at the
head of all the great political movements in Europe for the last quarter
of a century. Philip passed some time, every day, in his father's
cabinet, conversing with him on public affairs, or attending the
sessions of the council of state. It can hardly be doubted that Charles,
in his private instruction, inculcated on his son two principles so
prominent throughout Philip's administration,--to maintain the royal
authority in its full extent, and to enforce a strict conformity to the
Roman Catholic Communion. It is probable that he found his son an apt
and docile scholar. Philip acquired, at least, such habits of patient
application, and of watching over the execution of his own plans, as
have been possessed by few princes.[29]

[Sidenote: PUBLIC FESTIVITIES.]

The great object of Philip's visit to the Low Countries had been, to
present himself to the people of the different provinces, to study their
peculiar characters on their own soil, and obtain their recognition as
their future sovereign. After a long residence at Brussels, he set out
on a tour through the provinces. He was accompanied by the queen-regent,
and by the same splendid retinue as on his entrance into the country,
with the addition of a large number of the nobles.

The Netherlands had ever been treated by Charles with particular favor,
and, under his royal patronage, although the country did not develop its
resources as under its own free institutions of a later period, it had
greatly prospered. It was more thickly studded with trading towns than
any country of similar extent in Europe; and its flourishing communities
held the first rank in wealth, industry, and commercial enterprise, as
well as in the splendid way of living maintained by the aristocracy. On
the present occasion, these communities vied with one another in their
loyal demonstrations towards the prince, and in the splendor of the
reception which they gave him. A work was compiled by one of the royal
suite, setting forth the manifold honors paid to Philip through the
whole of the tour, which, even more than his former journey, had the
aspect of a triumphal progress. The book grew, under the hands of its
patriotic author, to the size of a bulky folio, which, however
interesting to his contemporaries, would have but slender attraction for
the present generation.[30] The mere inscriptions emblazoned on the
triumphal arches, and on the public buildings, spread over a multitude
of pages. They were both in Latin and in the language of the country,
and they augured the happy days in store for the nation, when, under the
benignant sceptre of Philip, it should enjoy the sweets of tranquillity
and freedom. Happy auguries! which showed that the prophet was not
gifted with the spirit of prophecy.[31]

In these solemnities, Antwerp alone expended fifty thousand pistoles.
But no place compared with Brussels in the costliness and splendor of
its festivities, the most remarkable of which was a tournament. Under
their Burgundian princes the Flemings had been familiar with these
chivalrous pageants. The age of chivalry was, indeed, fast fading away
before the use of gunpowder and other improvements in military science.
But it was admitted that no tourney had been maintained with so much
magnificence and knightly prowess since the days of Charles the Bold.
The old chronicler's narrative of the event, like the pages of
Froissart, seems instinct with the spirit of a feudal age. I will give a
few details, at the hazard of appearing trivial to those who may think
we have dwelt long enough on the pageants of the courts of Castile and
Burgundy. But such pageants form part of the natural accompaniment of a
picturesque age, and the illustrations they afford of the manners of the
time may have an interest for the student of history.

The tourney was held in a spacious square, inclosed for the purpose, in
front of the great palace of Brussels. Four knights were prepared to
maintain the field against all comers, and jewels of price were to be
awarded as the prize of the victors. The four challengers were Count
Mansfeldt, Count Hoorne, Count Aremberg, and the Sieur de Hubermont;
among the judges was the duke of Alva; and in the list of the successful
antagonists we find the names of Prince Philip of Spain, Emanuel
Philibert, duke of Savoy, and Count Egmont. These are names famous in
history. It is curious to observe how the men who were soon to be at a
deadly feud with one another were thus sportively met to celebrate the
pastimes of chivalry.

The day was an auspicious one, and the lists were crowded with the
burghers of Brussels, and the people of the surrounding country. The
galleries which encompassed the area were graced with the rank and
beauty of the capital. A canopy, embroidered with the imperial arms in
crimson and gold, indicated the place occupied by Charles the Fifth and
his sisters, the regent of the Netherlands, and the dowager queen of
France.

For several hours the field was gallantly maintained by the four
challengers against every knight who was ambitious to prove his prowess
in the presence of so illustrious an assembly. At length the trumpets
sounded, and announced the entrance of four cavaliers, whose brilliant
train of followers intimated them to be persons of high degree. The four
knights were Prince Philip, the duke of Savoy, Count Egmont, and Juan
Manriquez de Lara, major-domo of the emperor. They were clothed in
complete mail, over which they wore surcoats of violet-colored velvet,
while the caparisons of their horses were of cloth of gold.

Philip ran the first course. His antagonist was the Count Mansfeldt, a
Flemish captain of great renown. At the appointed signal, the two
knights spurred against each other, and met in the centre of the lists
with a shock that shivered their lances to the very grasp. Both knights
reeled in their saddles, but neither lost his seat. The arena resounded
with the plaudits of the spectators, not the less hearty that one of the
combatants was the heir apparent.

The other cavaliers then tilted, with various success. A general
tournament followed, in which every knight eager to break a lance on
this fair occasion took part; and many a feat of arms was performed,
doubtless long remembered by the citizens of Brussels. At the end of the
seventh hour a flourish of trumpets announced the conclusion of the
contest, and the assembly broke up in admirable order, the knights
retiring to change their heavy panoplies for the lighter vestments of
the ball-room. A banquet was prepared by the municipality, in a style of
magnificence worthy of their royal guests. The emperor and his sisters
honored it with their presence, and witnessed the distribution of the
prizes. Among these, a brilliant ruby, the prize awarded for the _lança
de las damas_,--the "ladies' lance," in the language of chivalry,--was
assigned by the loyal judges to Prince Philip of Spain.

Dancing succeeded to the banquet; and the high-bred courtesy of the
prince was as much commended in the ball-room as his prowess had been in
the lists. Maskers mingled with the dancers in Oriental costume, some in
the Turkish, others in the Albanian fashion. The merry revels were not
prolonged beyond the hour of midnight, when the company broke up, loudly
commending, as they withdrew, the good cheer afforded them by the
hospitable burghers of Brussels.[32]

[Sidenote: PUBLIC FESTIVITIES.]

Philip won the prize on another occasion, when he tilted against a
valiant knight, named Quiñones. He was not so fortunate in an encounter
with the son of his old preceptor, Zuñiga, in which he was struck with
such force on the head, that, after being carried some distance by his
horse, he fell senseless from the saddle. The alarm was great, but the
accident passed away without serious consequences.[33]

There were those who denied him skill in the management of his lance.
Marillac, the French ambassador at the imperial court, speaking of a
tourney given by Philip in honor of the princess of Lorraine, at
Augsburg, says he never saw worse lance-playing in his life. At another
time he remarks, that the Spanish prince could not even hit his
antagonist.[34] It must have been a very palpable hit to be noticed by a
Frenchman. The French regarded the Spaniards of that day in much the
same manner as they regarded the English at an earlier period, or as
they have continued to regard them at a later. The long rivalry of the
French and Spanish monarchs had infused into the breasts of their
subjects such feelings of mutual aversion, that the opinions of either
nation in reference to the other, in the sixteenth century, must be
received with the greatest distrust.

But, whatever may have been Philip's success in these chivalrous
displays, it is quite certain they were not to his taste. He took part
in them only to conform to his father's wishes, and to the humor of the
age. Though in his youth he sometimes hunted, he was neither fond of
field-sports nor of the athletic exercises of chivalry. His constitution
was far from robust. He sought to invigorate it less by exercise than by
diet. He confined himself almost wholly to meat, as the most nutritious
food, abstaining even from fish; as well as from fruit.[35] Besides his
indisposition to active exercises, he had no relish for the gaudy
spectacles so fashionable in that romantic age. The part he had played
in the pageants, during his long tour, had not been of his own seeking.
Though ceremonious, and exacting deference from all who approached him,
he was not fond of the pomp and parade of a court life. He preferred to
pass his hours in the privacy of his own apartment, where he took
pleasure in the conversation of a few whom he honored with his regard.
It was with difficulty that the emperor could induce him to leave his
retirement and present himself in the audience-chamber, or accompany him
on visits of ceremony.[36]

These reserved and quiet tastes of Philip by no means recommended him to
the Flemings, accustomed as they were to the pomp and profuse
magnificence of the Burgundian court. Their free and social tempers were
chilled by his austere demeanor. They contrasted it with the affable
deportment of his father, who could so well conform to the customs of
the different nations under his sceptre, and who seemed perfectly to
comprehend their characters,--the astute policy of the Italian, the
home-bred simplicity of the German, and the Castilian propriety and
point of honor.[37] With the latter only of these had Philip anything in
common. He was in everything a Spaniard. He talked of nothing, seemed to
think of nothing, but Spain.[38] The Netherlands were to him a foreign
land, with which he had little sympathy. His counsellors and companions
were wholly Spanish. The people of Flanders felt, that, under his sway,
little favor was to be shown to them; and they looked forward to the
time when all the offices of trust in their own country would be given
to Castilians, in the same manner as those of Castile, in the early days
of Charles the Fifth, had been given to Flemings.[39]

Yet the emperor seemed so little aware of his son's unpopularity, that
he was at this very time making arrangements for securing to him the
imperial crown. He had summoned a meeting of the electors and great
lords of the empire, to be held at Augsburg, in August, 1550. There he
proposed to secure Philip's election as king of the Romans, so soon as
he had obtained his brother Ferdinand's surrender of that dignity. But
Charles did not show, in all this, his usual knowledge of human nature.
The lust of power on his son's account--ineffectual for happiness as he
had found the possession of it in his own case--seems to have entirely
blinded him.

He repaired with Philip to Augsburg, where they were met by Ferdinand
and the members of the German diet. But it was in vain that Charles
solicited his brother to waive his claim to the imperial succession in
favor of his nephew. Neither solicitations nor arguments, backed by the
entreaties, even the tears, it is said, of their common sister, the
Regent Mary, could move Ferdinand to forego the splendid inheritance.
Charles was not more successful when he changed his ground, and urged
his brother to acquiesce in Philip's election as his successor in the
dignity of king of the Romans; or, at least, in his being associated in
that dignity--a thing unprecedented--with his cousin Maximilian,
Ferdinand's son, who, it was understood, was destined by the electors to
succeed his father.

This young prince, who meanwhile had been summoned to Augsburg, was as
little disposed as Ferdinand had been to accede to the proposals of his
too grasping father-in-law; though he courteously alleged, as the ground
of his refusal, that he had no right to interfere with the decision of
the electors. He might safely rest his cause on their decision. They had
no desire to perpetuate the imperial sceptre in the line of Castilian
monarchs. They had suffered enough from the despotic temper of Charles
the Fifth; and this temper they had no reason to think would be
mitigated in the person of Philip.

[Sidenote: AMBITIOUS SCHEMES.]

They desired a German to rule over them,--one who would understand the
German character, and enter heartily into the feelings of the people.
Maximilian's directness of purpose and kindly nature had won largely on
the affections of his countrymen, and proved him, in their judgment,
worthy of the throne.[40]

Philip, on the other hand, was even more distasteful to the Germans than
he was to the Flemings. It was in vain that, at their banquets, he drank
twice or thrice as much as he was accustomed to do, until the cardinal
of Trent assured him that he was fast gaining in the good graces of the
people.[41] The natural haughtiness of his temper showed itself on too
many occasions to be mistaken. When Charles returned to his palace,
escorted, as he usually was, by a train of nobles and princes of the
empire, he would courteously take them by the hand, and raise his hat,
as he parted from them. But Philip, it was observed, on like occasions,
walked directly into the palace, without so much as turning round, or
condescending in any way to notice the courtiers who had accompanied
him. This was taking higher ground even than his father had done. In
fact, it was said of him, that he considered himself greater than his
father, inasmuch as the son of an emperor was greater than the son of a
king![42]--a foolish vaunt, not the less indicative of his character,
that it was made for him, probably, by the Germans. In short, Philip's
manners, which, in the language of a contemporary, had been little
pleasing to the Italians, and positively displeasing to the Flemings,
were altogether odious to the Germans.[43]

Nor was the idea of Philip's election at all more acceptable to the
Spaniards themselves. That nation had been long enough regarded as an
appendage to the empire. Their pride had been wounded by the light in
which they were held by Charles, who seemed to look on Spain as a royal
domain, valuable chiefly for the means it afforded him for playing his
part on the great theatre of Europe. The haughty Castilian of the
sixteenth century, conscious of his superior pretensions, could ill
brook this abasement. He sighed for a prince born and bred in Spain, who
would be content to pass his life in Spain, and would have no ambition
unconnected with her prosperity and glory. The Spaniards were even more
tenacious on this head than the Germans. Their remote situation made
them more exclusive, mere strictly national, and less tolerant of
foreign influence. They required a Spaniard to rule over them. Such was
Philip; and they anticipated the hour when Spain should be divorced from
the empire, and, under the sway of a patriotic prince, rise to her just
preëminence among the nations.

Yet Charles, far from yielding, continued to press the point with such
pertinacity, that it seemed likely to lead to an open rupture between
the different branches of his family. For a time Ferdinand kept his
apartment, and had no intercourse with Charles or his sister.[44] Yet in
the end the genius or the obstinacy of Charles so far prevailed over
his brother, that he acquiesced in a private compact, by which, while he
was to retain possession of the imperial crown, it was agreed that
Philip should succeed him as king of the Romans, and that Maximilian
should succeed Philip.[45] Ferdinand hazarded little by concessions
which could never be sanctioned by the electoral college. The reverses
which befell the emperor's arms in the course of the following year
destroyed whatever influence he might have possessed in that body; and
he seems never to have revived his schemes for aggrandizing his son by
securing to him the succession to the empire.

Philip had now accomplished the great object of his visit. He had
presented himself to the people of the Netherlands, and had received
their homage as heir to the realm. His tour had been, in some respects,
a profitable one. It was scarcely possible that a young man, whose days
had hitherto been passed within the narrow limits of his own country,
for ever under the same local influences, should not have his ideas
greatly enlarged by going abroad and mingling with different nations. It
was especially important to Philip to make himself familiar, as none but
a resident can be, with the character and institutions of those nations
over whom he was one day to preside. Yet his visit to the Netherlands
had not been attended with the happiest results. He evidently did not
make a favorable impression on the people. The more they saw of him, the
less they appeared to like him. Such impressions are usually reciprocal;
and Philip seems to have parted from the country with little regret.
Thus, in the first interview between the future sovereign and his
subjects, the symptoms might already be discerned of that alienation
which was afterwards to widen into a permanent and irreparable breach.

Philip, anxious to reach Castile, pushed forward his journey, without
halting to receive the civilities that were everywhere tendered to him
on his route. He made one exception at Trent, where the ecclesiastical
council was holding the memorable session that occupies so large a share
in Church annals. On his approach to the city, the cardinal legate,
attended by the mitred prelates and other dignitaries of the council,
came out in a body to receive him. During his stay there, he was
entertained with masks, dancing, theatrical exhibitions, and jousts,
contrived to represent scenes in Ariosto.[46] These diversions of the
reverend fathers formed a whimsical contrast, perhaps a welcome relief,
to their solemn occupation of digesting a creed for the Christian world.

[Sidenote: CONDITION OF SPAIN.]

From Trent Philip pursued his way, with all expedition, to Genoa, where
he embarked, under the flag of the veteran Doria, who had brought him
from Spain. He landed at Barcelona, on the twelfth day of July, 1551,
and proceeded at once to Valladolid, where he resumed the government of
the kingdom. He was fortified by a letter from his father, dated at
Augsburg, which contained ample instructions as to the policy he was to
pursue, and freely discussed both the foreign and domestic relations of
the country. The letter, which is very long, shows that the capacious
mind of Charles, however little time he could personally give to the
affairs of the monarchy, fully comprehended its internal condition and
the extent of its resources.[47]

The following years were years of humiliation to Charles; years marked
by the flight from Innsbruck, and the disastrous siege of Metz,--when,
beaten by the Protestants, foiled by the French, the reverses of the
emperor pressed heavily on his proud heart, and did more, probably, than
all the homilies of his ghostly teachers, to disgust him with the world
and its vanities.

Yet these reverses made little impression on Spain. The sounds of war
died away before they reached the foot of the Pyrenees. Spain, it is
true, sent forth her sons, from time to time, to serve under the banners
of Charles; and it was in that school that was perfected the admirable
system of discipline and tactics which, begun by the Great Captain, made
the Spanish infantry the most redoubtable in Europe. But the great body
of the people felt little interest in the success of these distant
enterprises, where success brought them no good. Not that the mind of
Spain was inactive, or oppressed with the lethargy which stole over it
in a later age. There was, on the contrary, great intellectual activity.
She was excluded, by an arbitrary government, from pushing her
speculations in the regions of theological or political science. But
this, to a considerable extent, was the case with most of the
neighboring nations; and she indemnified herself for this exclusion by a
more diligent cultivation of elegant literature. The constellation of
genius had already begun to show itself above the horizon, which was to
shed a glory over the meridian and the close of Philip's reign. The
courtly poets in the reign of his father had confessed the influence of
Italian models, derived through the recent territorial acquisitions in
Italy. But the national taste was again asserting its supremacy; and the
fashionable tone of composition was becoming more and more accommodated
to the old Castilian standard.

It would be impossible that any departure from a national standard
should be long tolerated in Spain, where the language, the manners, the
dress, the usages of the country, were much the same as they had been
for generations,--as they continued to be for generations, long after
Cervantes held up the mirror of fiction, to reflect the traits of the
national existence more vividly than is permitted to the page of the
chronicler. In the rude _romances_ of the fourteenth and the fifteenth
century, the Castilian of the sixteenth might see his way of life
depicted with tolerable accuracy. The amorous cavalier still thrummed
his guitar, by moonlight, under the balcony of his mistress, or wore her
favors at the Moorish tilt of reeds. The common people still sung their
lively _seguidillas_, or crowded to the _fiestas de toros_,--the cruel
bull-fights,--or to the more cruel _autos da fé_. This last spectacle,
of comparatively recent origin,--in the time of Ferdinand and
Isabella,--was the legitimate consequence of the long wars with the
Moslems, which made the Spaniard intolerant of religious infidelity.
Atrocious as it seems in a more humane and enlightened age, it was
regarded by the ancient Spaniard as a sacrifice grateful to Heaven, at
which he was to rekindle the dormant embers of his own religious
sensibilities.

The cessation of the long Moorish wars by the fall of Granada, made the
most important change in the condition of the Spaniards. They, however,
found a vent for their chivalrous fanaticism, in a crusade against the
heathen of the New World. Those who returned from their wanderings
brought back to Spain little of foreign usages and manners; for the
Spaniard was the only civilized man whom they found in the wilds of
America.

Thus passed the domestic life of the Spaniard, in the same unvaried
circle of habits, opinions, and prejudices, to the exclusion, and
probably contempt of everything foreign. Not that these habits did not
differ in the different provinces, where their distinctive peculiarities
were handed down, with traditional precision, from father to son. But,
beneath these, there was one common basis of the national character.
Never was there a people, probably, with the exception of the Jews,
distinguished by so intense a nationality. It was among such a people,
and under such influences, that Philip was born and educated. His
temperament and his constitution of mind peculiarly fitted him for the
reception of these influences; and the Spaniards, as he grew in years,
beheld, with pride and satisfaction, in their future sovereign, the most
perfect type of the national character.




CHAPTER III.

ENGLISH ALLIANCE.

Condition of England.--Character of Mary.--Philip's Proposals of
Marriage.--Marriage Articles.--Insurrection in England.

1553, 1554.


In the summer of 1553, three years after Philip's return to Spain,
occurred an event which was to exercise a considerable influence on his
fortunes. This was the death of Edward the Sixth of England,--after a
brief but important reign. He was succeeded by his sister Mary, that
unfortunate princess, whose _sobriquet_ of "Bloody" gives her a
melancholy distinction among the sovereigns of the house of Tudor.

The reign of her father, Henry the Eighth, had opened the way to the
great revolution in religion, the effects of which were destined to be
permanent. Yet Henry himself showed his strength rather in unsettling
ancient institutions than in establishing new ones. By the abolition of
the monasteries, he broke up that spiritual militia which was a most
efficacious instrument for maintaining the authority of Rome; and he
completed the work of independence by seating himself boldly in the
chair of St. Peter, and assuming the authority of head of the Church.
Thus, while the supremacy of the pope was rejected, the Roman Catholic
religion was maintained in its essential principles unimpaired. In other
words, the nation remained Catholics, but not Papists.

[Sidenote: CONDITION OF ENGLAND.]

The impulse thus given under Henry was followed up to more important
consequences under his son, Edward the Sixth. The opinions of the German
Reformers, considerably modified, especially in regard to the exterior
forms and discipline of worship, met with a cordial welcome from the
ministers of the young monarch. Protestantism became the religion of the
land; and the Church of England received, to a great extent, the
peculiar organization which it has preserved to the present day. But
Edward's reign was too brief to allow the new opinions to take deep root
in the hearts of the people. The greater part of the aristocracy soon
showed that, whatever religious zeal they had affected, they were not
prepared to make any sacrifice of their temporal interests. On the
accession of a Catholic queen to the throne, a reaction soon became
visible. Some embarrassment to a return to the former faith was found in
the restitution which it might naturally involve of the confiscated
property of the monastic orders. But the politic concessions of Rome
dispensed with this severe trial of the sincerity of its new proselytes;
and England, after repudiating her heresies, was received into the fold
of the Roman Catholic Church, and placed once more under the
jurisdiction of its pontiff.

After the specimens given of the ready ductility with which the English
of that day accommodated their religious creeds to the creed of their
sovereign, we shall hardly wonder at the caustic criticism of the
Venetian ambassador, resident at the court of London, in Queen Mary's
time. "The example and authority of the sovereign," he says, "are
everything with the people of this country in matters of faith. As he
believes, they believe; Judaism or Mahometanism,--it is all one to them.
They conform themselves easily to his will, at least so far as the
outward show is concerned; and most easily of all where it concurs with
their own pleasure and profit."[48]

The ambassador, Giovanni Micheli, was one of that order of
merchant-princes employed by Venice in her foreign missions; men whose
acquaintance with affairs enabled them to comprehend the resources of
the country to which they were sent, as well as the intrigues of its
court. Their observations were digested into elaborate reports, which,
on their return to Venice, were publicly read before the doge and the
senate. The documents thus prepared form some of the most valuable and
authentic materials for the history of Europe in the sixteenth century.
Micheli's report is diffuse on the condition of England under the reign
of Queen Mary; and some of his remarks will have interest for the reader
of the present day, as affording a standard of comparison with the
past.[49]

London he eulogizes, as one of the noblest capitals in Europe,
containing, with its suburbs, about a hundred and eighty thousand
souls.[50] The great lords, as in France and Germany, passed most of
their time on their estates in the country.

The kingdom was strong enough, if united, to defy any invasion from
abroad. Yet its navy was small, having dwindled, from neglect and an
ill-judged economy, to not more than forty vessels of war. But the
mercantile marine could furnish two thousand more, which, at a short
notice, could be well equipped and got ready for sea. The army was
particularly strong in artillery, and provided with all the munitions of
war. The weapon chiefly in repute was the bow, to which the English
people were trained from early youth. In their cavalry they were most
defective. Horses were abundant, but wanted bottom. They were, for the
most part, light, weak, and grass-fed.[51] The nation was, above all, to
be envied for the lightness of the public burdens. There were no taxes
on wine, beer, salt, cloth, nor, indeed, on any of the articles that in
other countries furnished the greatest sources of revenue.[52] The whole
revenue did not usually exceed two hundred thousand pounds. Parliaments
were rarely summoned, except to save the king trouble or to afford a
cloak to his designs. No one ventured to resist the royal will; servile
the members came there, and servile they remained.[53]--An Englishman of
the nineteenth century may smile at the contrast presented by some of
these remarks to the condition of the nation at the present day; though
in the item of taxation the contrast may be rather fitted to provoke a
sigh.

The portrait of Queen Mary is given by the Venetian minister, with a
coloring somewhat different from that in which she is commonly depicted
by English historians. She was about thirty-six years of age at the time
of her accession. In stature, she was of rather less than the middle
size,--not large, as was the case with both her father and mother,--and
exceedingly well made. "The portraits of her," says Micheli, "show that
in her youth she must have been not only good-looking, but even
handsome;--though her countenance, when he saw her, exhibited traces of
early trouble and disease."[54] But whatever she had lost in personal
attractions was fully made up by those of the mind. She was quick of
apprehension, and, like her younger sister, Elizabeth, was mistress of
several languages, three of which, the French, Spanish, and Latin, she
could speak; the last with fluency.[55] But in these accomplishments she
was surpassed by her sister, who knew the Greek well, and could speak
Italian with ease and elegance. Mary, however, both spoke and wrote her
own language in a plain, straightforward manner, that forms a contrast
to the ambiguous phrase and cold conceits in which Elizabeth usually
conveyed, or rather concealed, her sentiments.

[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF MARY.]

Mary had the misfortune to labour under a chronic infirmity, which
confined her for weeks, and indeed months, of every year to her chamber,
and which, with her domestic troubles, gave her an air of melancholy,
that in later years settled into a repulsive austerity. The tones of her
voice were masculine, says the Venetian, and her eyes inspired a
feeling, not merely of reverence, but of fear, wherever she turned them.
Her spirit he adds, was lofty and magnanimous, never discomposed by
danger, showing in all things a blood truly royal.[56]

Her piety, he continues, and her patience under affliction, cannot be
too greatly admired. Sustained, as she was, by a lively faith and
conscious innocence, he compares her to a light which the fierce winds
have no power to extinguish, but which still shines on with increasing
lustre.[57] She waited her time, and was plainly reserved by Providence
for a great destiny.--We are reading the language of the loyal Catholic,
grateful for the services which Mary had rendered to the faith.

Yet it would be uncharitable not to believe that Mary was devout, and
most earnest in her devotion. The daughter of Katharine of Aragon, the
granddaughter of Isabella of Castile, could hardly have been otherwise.
The women of that royal line were uniformly conspicuous for their piety,
though this was too often tinctured with bigotry. In Mary, bigotry
degenerated into fanaticism, and fanaticism into the spirit of
persecution. The worst evils are probably those that have flowed from
fanaticism. Yet the amount of the mischief does not necessarily furnish
us with the measure of guilt in the author of it. The introduction of
the Inquisition into Spain must be mainly charged on Isabella. Yet the
student of her reign will not refuse to this great queen the praise of
tenderness of conscience and a sincere desire to do the right.
Unhappily, the faith in which she, as well as her royal granddaughter,
was nurtured, taught her to place her conscience in the keeping of
ministers less scrupulous than herself; and on those ministers may
fairly rest much of the responsibility of measures on which they only
were deemed competent to determine.

Mary's sincerity in her religious professions was placed beyond a doubt
by the readiness with which she submitted to the sacrifice of her
personal interests whenever the interests of religion seemed to demand
it. She burned her translation of a portion of Erasmus, prepared with
great labor, at the suggestion of her confessor. An author will readily
estimate the value of such a sacrifice. One more important, and
intelligible to all, was the resolute manner in which she persisted in
restoring the Church property which had been confiscated to the use of
the crown. "The crown is too much impoverished to admit of it,"
remonstrated her ministers. "I would rather lose ten crowns," replied
the high-minded queen, "than place my soul in peril."[58]

Yet it cannot be denied, that Mary had inherited, in full measure, some
of the sterner qualities of her father, and that she was wanting in that
sympathy for human suffering which is so graceful in a woman. After a
rebellion, the reprisals were terrible. London was converted into a
charnel-house; and the squares and principal streets were garnished with
the unsightly trophies of the heads and limbs of numerous victims who
had fallen by the hand of the executioner.[59] This was in accordance
with the spirit of the age. But the execution of the unfortunate Lady
Jane Grey--the young, the beautiful, and the good--leaves a blot on the
fame of Mary, which finds no parallel but in the treatment of the
ill-fated queen of Scots by Elizabeth.

Mary's treatment of Elizabeth has formed another subject of reproach,
though the grounds of it are not sufficiently made out; and, at all
events, many circumstances may be alleged in extenuation of her conduct.
She had seen her mother, the noble-minded Katharine, exposed to the most
cruel indignities, and compelled to surrender her bed and her throne to
an artful rival, the mother of Elizabeth. She had heard herself declared
illegitimate, and her right to the succession set aside in favor of her
younger sister. Even after her intrepid conduct had secured to her the
crown, she was still haunted by the same gloomy apparition. Elizabeth's
pretensions were constantly brought before the public; and Mary might
well be alarmed by the disclosure of conspiracy after conspiracy, the
object of which, it was rumored, was to seat her sister on the throne.
As she advanced in years, Mary had the further mortification of seeing
her rival gain on those affections of the people which had grown cool to
her. Was it wonderful that she should regard her sister, under these
circumstances, with feelings of distrust and aversion? That she did so
regard her is asserted by the Venetian minister; and it is plain that,
during the first years of Mary's reign, Elizabeth's life hung upon a
thread. Yet Mary had strength of principle sufficient to resist the
importunities of Charles the Fifth and his ambassador, to take the life
of Elizabeth, as a thing indispensable to her own safety and that of
Philip. Although her sister was shown to be privy, though not openly
accessory, to the grand rebellion under Wyatt, Mary would not constrain
the law from its course to do her violence. This was something, under
the existing circumstances, in an age so unscrupulous. After this storm
had passed over, Mary, whatever restraint she imposed on her real
feelings, treated Elizabeth, for the most part, with a show of kindness,
though her name still continued to be mingled, whether with or without
cause, with more than one treasonable plot.[60] Mary's last act--perhaps
the only one in which she openly resisted the will of her husband--was
to refuse to compel her sister to accept the hand of Philibert of Savoy.
Yet this act would have relieved her of the presence of her rival; and
by it Elizabeth would have forfeited her independent possession of the
crown,--perhaps the possession of it altogether. It may be doubted
whether Elizabeth, under similar circumstances, would have shown the
like tenderness to the interests of her successor.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S PROPOSALS OF MARRIAGE.]

But, however we may be disposed to extenuate the conduct of Mary, and in
spiritual matters, more especially, to transfer the responsibility of
her acts from herself to her advisers, it is not possible to dwell on
this reign of religious persecution without feelings of profound
sadness. Not that the number of victims compares with what is recorded
of many similar periods of persecution. The whole amount, falling
probably short of three hundred who perished at the stake, was less than
the number who fell by the hand of the executioner, or by violence,
during the same length of time under Henry the Eighth. It was not much
greater than might sometimes be found at a single Spanish _auto da fé_.
But Spain was the land in which this might be regarded as the national
spectacle,--as much so as the _fiesta de toros_, or any other of the
popular exhibitions of the country. In England, a few examples had not
sufficed to steel the hearts of men against these horrors. The heroic
company of martyrs, condemned to the most agonizing of deaths for
asserting the rights of conscience, was a sight strange and shocking to
Englishmen. The feelings of that day have been perpetuated to the
present. The reign of religious persecution stands out by itself, as
something distinct from the natural course of events; and the fires of
Smithfield shed a melancholy radiance over this page of the national
history, from which the eye of humanity turns away in pity and
disgust.--But it is time to take up the narrative of events which
connected for a brief space the political interests of Spain with those
of England.

Charles the Fifth had always taken a lively interest in the fortunes of
his royal kinswoman. When a young man he had paid a visit to England,
and while there had been induced by his aunt, Queen Katharine, to
contract a marriage with the Princess Mary,--then only six years
old,--to be solemnized on her arriving at the suitable age. But the term
was too remote for the constancy of Charles, or, as it is said, for the
patience of his subjects, who earnestly wished to see their sovereign
wedded to a princess who might present him with an heir to the monarchy.
The English match was, accordingly, broken off, and the young emperor
gave his hand to Isabella of Portugal.[61]

Mary, who, since her betrothal, had been taught to consider herself as
the future bride of the emperor, was at the time but eleven years old.
She was old enough, however, to feel something like jealousy, it is
said, and to show some pique at this desertion by her imperial lover.
Yet this circumstance did not prevent the most friendly relations from
subsisting between the parties in after years; and Charles continued to
watch over the interests of his kinswoman, and interposed, with good
effect, in her behalf, on more than one occasion, both during the reign
of Henry the Eighth and of his son, Edward the Sixth. On the death of
the latter monarch, he declared himself ready to assist Mary in
maintaining her right to the succession;[62] and, when this was finally
established, the wary emperor took the necessary measures for turning it
to his own account.[63]

He formed a scheme for uniting Philip with Mary, and thus securing to
his son the possession of the English crown, in the same manner as that
of Scotland had been secured by marriage to the son of his rival, Henry
the Second of France. It was, doubtless, a great error to attempt to
bring under one rule nations so dissimilar in every particular, and
having interests so incompatible as the Spaniards and the English.
Historians have regarded it as passing strange, that a prince, who had
had such large experience of the difficulties attending the government
of kingdoms remote from each other, should seek so to multiply these
difficulties on the head of his inexperienced son. But the love of
acquisition is a universal principle; nor is it often found that the
appetite for more is abated by the consideration that the party is
already possessed of more then he can manage.

It was a common opinion, that Mary intended to bestow her hand on her
young and handsome kinsman, Courtenay, earl of Devonshire, whom she had
withdrawn from the prison in which he had languished for many years, and
afterwards treated with distinguished favor. Charles, aware of this,
instructed Renard, his minister at the court of London, a crafty,
intriguing politician,[64] to sound the queen's inclinations on the
subject, but so as not to alarm her. He was to dwell, particularly, on
the advantages Mary would derive from a connection with some powerful
foreign prince, and to offer his master's counsel, in this or any other
matter in which she might desire it. The minister was to approach the
subject of the earl of Devonshire with the greatest caution; remembering
that, if the queen had a fancy for her cousin, and was like other women,
she would not be turned from it by anything that he might say, nor would
she readily forgive any reflection upon it.[65] Charles seems to have
been as well read in the characters of women as of men; and, as a
natural consequence, it may be added, had formed a high estimate of the
capacity of the sex. In proof of which, he not only repeatedly
committed the government of his states to women, but intrusted them
with some of his most delicate political negotiations.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S PROPOSALS OF MARRIAGE.]

Mary, if she had ever entertained the views imputed to her in respect to
Courtenay, must have soon been convinced that his frivolous disposition
would ill suit the seriousness of hers. However this may be, she was
greatly pleased when Renard hinted at her marriage,--"laughing," says
the envoy, "not once, but several times, and giving me a significant
look, which showed that the idea was very agreeable to her, plainly
intimating at the same time that she had no desire to marry an
Englishman."[66] In a subsequent conversation, when Renard ventured to
suggest that the prince of Spain was a suitable match, Mary broke in
upon him, saying that "she had never felt the smart of what people
called love, nor had ever so much as thought of being married, until
Providence had raised her to the throne; and that, if she now consented
to it, it would be in opposition to her own feelings, from a regard to
the public good;" but she begged the envoy to assure the emperor of her
wish to obey and to please him in everything, as she would her own
father; intimating, however, that she could not broach the subject of
her marriage to her council; the question could only be opened by a
communication from him.[67]

Charles, who readily saw through Mary's coquetry, no longer hesitated to
prefer the suit of Philip. After commending the queen's course in regard
to Courtenay, he presented to her the advantages that must arise from
such a foreign alliance as would strengthen her on the throne. He
declared, in a tone of gallantry rather amusing, that, if it were not
for his age and increasing infirmities, he should not hesitate to
propose himself as her suitor.[68] The next best thing was to offer her
the person dearest to his heart,--his son, the prince of Asturias. He
concluded by deprecating the idea that any recommendation of his should
interfere, in the least degree, with the exercise of her better
judgment.[69]

Renard was further to intimate to the queen the importance of secrecy in
regard to this negotiation. If she were disinclined to the proposed
match, it would be obviously of no advantage to give it publicity. If,
on the other hand, as the emperor had little doubt, she looked on it
favorably, but desired to advise with her council before deciding,
Renard was to dissuade her from the latter step, and advise her to
confide in him.[70] The wary emperor had a twofold motive for these
instructions. There was a negotiation on foot at this very time for a
marriage of Philip to the infanta of Portugal, and Charles wished to be
entirely assured of Mary's acquiescence, before giving such publicity to
the affair as might defeat the Portuguese match, which would still
remain for Philip, should he not succeed with the English queen.[71] In
case Mary proved favorable to his son's suit, Charles, who knew the
abhorrence in which foreigners were held by the English beyond all other
nations,[72] wished to gain time before communicating with Mary's
council. With some delay, he had no doubt that he had the means of
winning over a sufficient number of that body to support Philip's
pretensions.[73]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S PROPOSALS OF MARRIAGE.]

These communications could not be carried on so secretly but that some
rumor of them reached the ears of Mary's ministers, and of Noailles, the
French ambassador at the court of London.[74] This person was a busy
and unscrupulous politician, who saw with alarm the prospect of Spain
strengthening herself by this alliance with England, and determined,
accordingly, in obedience to instructions from home, to use every effort
to defeat it. The queen's ministers, with the chancellor, Gardiner,
bishop of Winchester, at their head, felt a similar repugnance to the
Spanish match. The name of the Spaniards had become terrible from the
remorseless manner in which their wars had been conducted during the
present reign, especially in the New World. The ambition and the
widely-extended dominions of Charles the Fifth made him the most
formidable sovereign in Europe. The English looked with apprehension on
so close an alliance with a prince who had shown too little regard for
the liberties of his own land to make it probable that he or his son
would respect those of another. Above all, they dreaded the fanaticism
of the Spaniards; and the gloomy spectre of the Inquisition moving in
their train made even the good Catholic shudder at the thought of the
miseries that might ensue from this ill-omened union.

It was not difficult for Noailles and the chancellor to communicate
their own distrust to the members of the parliament, then in session. A
petition to the queen was voted in the lower house, in which the commons
preferred an humble request that she would marry for the good of the
realm, but besought her, at the same time, not to go abroad for her
husband, but to select him among her own subjects.[75]

Mary's ministers did not understand her character so well as Charles the
Fifth did, when he cautioned his agent not openly to thwart her.
Opposition only fixed her more strongly in her original purpose. In a
private interview with Renard, she told him that she was apprised of
Gardiner's intrigues, and that Noailles, too, was _doing the impossible_
to prevent her union with Philip. "But I will be a match for them," she
added. Soon after, taking the ambassador, at midnight, into her oratory,
she knelt before the host, and, having repeated the hymn _Veni Creator_,
solemnly pledged herself to take no other man for her husband than the
prince of Spain.[76]

This proceeding took place on the thirtieth of October. On the
seventeenth of the month following, the commons waited on the queen at
her palace of Whitehall, to which she was confined by indisposition, and
presented their address. Mary, instead of replying by her chancellor, as
was usual, answered them in person. She told them, that from God she
held her crown, and that to him alone should she turn for counsel in a
matter so important;[77] she had not yet made up her mind to marry; but
since they considered it so necessary for the weal of the kingdom, she
would take it into consideration. It was a matter in which no one was so
much interested as herself. But they might be assured that, in her
choice, she would have regard to the happiness of her people, full as
much as to her own. The commons, who had rarely the courage to withstand
the frown of their Tudor princes, professed themselves contented with
this assurance; and, from this moment, opposition ceased from that
quarter.

Mary's arguments were reinforced by more conciliatory, but not less
efficacious persuasives, in the form of gold crowns, gold chains, and
other compliments of the like nature, which were distributed pretty
liberally by the Spanish ambassador among the members of her
council.[78]

In the following December, a solemn embassy left Brussels, to wait on
Mary and tender her the hand of Philip. It was headed by Lamoral, Count
Egmont, the Flemish noble so distinguished in later years by his
military achievements, and still more by his misfortunes. He was
attended by a number of Flemish lords and a splendid body of retainers.
He landed in Kent, where the rumor went abroad that it was Philip
himself; and so general was the detestation of the Spanish match among
the people, that it might have gone hard with the envoy, had the mistake
not been discovered. Egmont sailed up the Thames, and went ashore at
Tower Wharf, on the second of January, 1554. He was received with all
honor by Lord William Howard and several of the great English nobles,
and escorted in much state to Westminster, where his table was supplied
at the charge of the city. Gardiner entertained the embassy at a
sumptuous banquet; and the next day Egmont and his retinue proceeded to
Hampton Court, "where they had great cheer," says an old chronicler,
"and hunted the deer, and were so greedy of their destruction, that they
gave them not fair play for their lives; for," as he peevishly
complains, "they killed rag and tag, with hands and swords."[79]

On the twelfth, the Flemish count was presented to the queen, and
tendered her proposals of marriage in behalf of Prince Philip. Mary, who
probably thought she had made advances enough, now assumed a more
reserved air. "It was not for a maiden queen," she said, "thus publicly
to enter on so delicate a subject as her own marriage. This would be
better done by her ministers, to whom she would refer him. But this she
would have him understand," she added, as she cast her eyes on the ring
on her finger, "her realm was her first husband, and none other should
induce her to violate the oath which she had pledged at her coronation."

[Sidenote: MARRIAGE ARTICLES.]

Notwithstanding this prudery of Mary, she had already manifested such a
prepossession for her intended lord as to attract the notice of her
courtiers, one of whom refers it to the influence of a portrait of
Philip, of which she had become "greatly enamored."[80] That such a
picture was sent to her appears from a letter of Philip's aunt, the
regent of the Netherlands, in which she tells the English queen that she
has sent her a portrait of the prince, from the pencil of Titian, which
she was to return so soon as she was in possession of the living
original. It had been taken some three years before, she said, and was
esteemed a good likeness, though it would be necessary, as in the case
of other portraits by this master, to look at it from a distance in
order to see the resemblance.[81]

The marriage treaty was drawn up with great circumspection, under the
chancellor's direction. It will be necessary to notice only the most
important provisions. It was stipulated that Philip should respect the
laws of England, and leave every man in the full enjoyment of his rights
and immunities. The power of conferring titles, honors, emoluments, and
offices of every description, was to be reserved to the queen.
Foreigners were to be excluded from office. The issue of the marriage,
if a son, was to succeed to the English crown and to the Spanish
possessions in Burgundy and the Low Countries. But in case of the death
of Don Carlos, Philip's son, the issue of the present marriage was to
receive, in addition to the former inheritance, Spain and her
dependencies. The queen was never to leave her own kingdom without her
express desire. Her children were not to be taken out of it without the
consent of the nobles. In case of Mary's death, Philip was not to claim
the right of taking part in the government of the country. Further it
was provided that Philip should not entangle the nation in his wars with
France, but should strive to maintain the same amicable relations that
now subsisted between the two countries.[82]

Such were the cautious stipulations of this treaty, which had more the
aspect of a treaty for defence against an enemy than a marriage
contract. The instrument was worded with a care that reflected credit on
the sagacity of its framers. All was done that parchment could do to
secure the independence of the crown, as well as the liberties of the
people. "But if the bond be violated," asked one of the parliamentary
speakers on the occasion, "who is there to sue the bond?" Every
reflecting Englishman must have felt the inefficacy of any guaranty that
could be extorted from Philip, who, once united to Mary, would find
little difficulty in persuading a fond and obedient wife to sanction his
own policy, prejudicial though it might be to the true interests of the
kingdom.

No sooner was the marriage treaty made public, than the popular
discontent, before partially disclosed, showed itself openly throughout
the country. Placards were put up, lampoons were written, reviling the
queen's ministers and ridiculing the Spaniards; ominous voices were
heard from old, dilapidated buildings, boding the ruin of the monarchy.
Even the children became infected with the passions of their fathers.
Games were played in which the English were represented contending with
the Spaniards; and in one of these an unlucky urchin, who played the
part of Philip, narrowly escaped with his life from the hands of his
exasperated comrades.[83]

But something more serious than child's play showed itself, in three
several insurrections which broke out in different quarters of the
kingdom. The most formidable of them was the one led by Sir Thomas
Wyatt, son of the celebrated poet of that name. It soon gathered head,
and the number of the insurgents was greatly augmented by the accession
of a considerable body of the royal forces, who deserted their colours,
and joined the very men against whom they had been sent. Thus
strengthened, Wyatt marched on London. All there were filled with
consternation,--all but their intrepid queen, who showed as much
self-possession and indifference to danger as if it were only an
ordinary riot.

Proceeding at once into the city, she met the people at Guildhall, and
made them a spirited address, which has been preserved in the pages of
Holinshed. It concludes in the following bold strain, containing an
allusion to the cause of the difficulties:--"And certainly, if I did
either know or think that this marriage should either turn to the danger
or loss of any of you, my loving subjects, or to the detriment or
impairing of any part or parcel of the royal estate of this realm of
England, I would never consent thereunto, neither would I ever marry
while I lived. And on the word of a queen, I promise and assure you,
that, if it shall not probably appear before the nobility and commons,
in the high court of parliament, that this marriage shall be for the
singular benefit and commodity of all the whole realm, that then I will
abstain, not only from this marriage, but also from any other whereof
peril may ensue to this most noble realm. Wherefore now as good and
faithful subjects pluck up your hearts, and like true men stand fast
with your lawful prince against these rebels, both our enemies and
yours, and fear them not; for I assure you that I fear them nothing at
all!"[84] The courageous spirit of their queen communicated itself to
her audience, and in a few hours twenty thousand citizens enrolled
themselves under the royal banner.

Meanwhile, the rebel force continued its march, and reports soon came
that Wyatt was on the opposite bank of the Thames; then, that he had
crossed the river. Soon his presence was announced by the flight of a
good number of the royalists, among whom was Courtenay, who rode off
before the enemy at a speed that did little credit to his valor. All was
now confusion again. The lords and ladies in attendance gathered round
the queen in Whitehall, as if to seek support from her more masculine
nature. Her ministers went down on their knees, to implore her to seek
refuge in the Tower, as the only place of safety. Mary smiled with
contempt at the pusillanimous proposal, and resolved to remain where she
was, and abide the issue.

It was not long in coming. Wyatt penetrated as far as Ludgate, with
desperate courage, but was not well seconded by his followers. The few
who proved faithful were surrounded and overwhelmed by numbers. Wyatt
was made prisoner, and the whole rebel rout discomfited and dispersed.
By this triumph over her enemies, Mary was seated more strongly than
ever on the throne. Henceforward the Spanish match did not meet with
opposition from the people, any more than from the parliament.

Still the emperor, after this serious demonstration of hostility to his
son, felt a natural disquietude in regard to his personal safety, which
made him desirous of obtaining some positive guaranty before trusting
him among the turbulent islanders. He wrote to his ambassador to require
such security from the government. But no better could be given than the
royal promise that everything should be done to insure the prince's
safety. Renard was much perplexed. He felt the responsibility of his own
position. He declined to pledge himself for the quiet deportment of the
English; but he thought matters had already gone too far to leave it in
the power of Spain to recede.

[Sidenote: MARY'S BETROTHAL.]

He wrote, moreover, both to Charles and to Philip, recommending that the
prince should not bring over with him a larger retinue of Spaniards than
was necessary, and that the wives of his nobles--for he seems to have
regarded the sex as the source of evil--should not accompany them.[85]
Above all, he urged Philip and his followers to lay aside the Castilian
_hauteur_, and to substitute the conciliatory manners which might disarm
the jealousy of the English.[86]




CHAPTER IV.

ENGLISH ALLIANCE.

Mary's Betrothal.--Joanna Regent of Castile.--Philip embarks for
England.--His splendid Reception.--Marriage of Philip and Mary.--Royal
Entertainments.--Philip's Influence.--The Catholic Church
restored.--Philip's Departure.

1554, 1555.


In the month of March, 1554, Count Egmont arrived in England, on a
second embassy, for the purpose of exchanging the ratifications of the
marriage treaty. He came in the same state as before, and was received
by the queen in the presence of her council. The ceremony was conducted
with great solemnity. Mary, kneeling down, called God to witness, that,
in contracting this marriage, she had been influenced by no motive of a
carnal or worldly nature, but by the desire of securing the welfare and
tranquillity of the kingdom. To her kingdom her faith had first been
plighted; and she hoped that Heaven would give her strength to maintain
inviolate the oath she had taken at her coronation.

This she said with so much grace, that the bystanders, says Renard,--who
was one of them,--were all moved to tears. The ratifications were then
exchanged, and the oaths taken, in presence of the host, by the
representatives of Spain and England; when Mary, again kneeling, called
on those present to unite with her in prayer to the Almighty, that he
would enable her faithfully to keep the articles of the treaty, and
would make her marriage a happy one.

Count Egmont then presented to the queen a diamond ring which the
emperor had sent her. Mary, putting it on her finger, showed it to the
company; "and assuredly," exclaims the Spanish minister, "the jewel was
a precious one, and well worthy of admiration." Egmont, before departing
for Spain, inquired of Mary whether she would intrust him with any
message to Prince Philip. The queen replied, that "he might tender to
the prince her most affectionate regards, and assure him that she should
be always ready to vie with him in such offices of kindness as became a
loving and obedient wife." When asked if she would write to him, she
answered, "Not till he had begun the correspondence."[87]

This lets us into the knowledge of a little fact, very significant. Up
to this time Philip had neither written, nor so much as sent a single
token of regard to his mistress. All this had been left to his father.
Charles had arranged the marriage, had wooed the bride, had won over her
principal advisers,--in short, had done all the courtship. Indeed, the
inclinations of Philip, it is said, had taken another direction, and he
would have preferred the hand of his royal kinswoman, Mary of
Portugal.[88] However this may be, it is not probable that he felt any
great satisfaction in the prospect of being united to a woman who was
eleven years older than himself, and whose personal charms, whatever
they might once have been, had long since faded, under the effects of
disease and a constitutional melancholy. But he loved power; and
whatever scruples he might have entertained on his own account were
silenced before the wishes of his father.[89] "Like another Isaac,"
exclaims Sandoval, in admiration of his conduct, "he sacrificed himself
on the altar of filial duty."[90] The same implicit deference which
Philip showed his father in this delicate matter, he afterwards, under
similar circumstances, received from his own son.

[Sidenote: MARY'S BETROTHAL.]

After the marriage articles had been ratified, Philip sent a present of
a magnificent jewel to the English queen, by a Spanish noble of high
rank, the Marquis de las Nayas.[91] The marquis, who crossed from Biscay
with a squadron of four ships, landed at Plymouth, and, as he journeyed
towards London, was met by the young Lord Herbert, son of the earl of
Pembroke, who conducted him, with an escort of four hundred mounted
gentlemen, to his family seat in Wiltshire. "And as they rode together
to Wilton," says Lord Edmund Dudley, one of the party, "there were
certain courses at the hare, which was so pleasant that the marquis much
delighted in finding the course so readily appointed. As for the
marquis's great cheer, as well that night at supper as otherwise at his
breakfast the next day, surely it was so abundant, that it was not a
little marvel to consider that so great a preparation could be made in
so small a warning.... Surely it was not a little comfort to my heart
to see all things so honorably used for the honor and service of the
queen's majesty."[92]

Meanwhile, Philip was making his arrangements for leaving Spain, and
providing a government for the country during his absence. It was
decided by the emperor to intrust the regency to his daughter, the
Princess Joanna. She was eight years younger than Philip. About eighteen
months before, she had gone to Portugal as the bride of the heir of that
kingdom. But the fair promise afforded by this union was blasted by the
untimely death of her consort, which took place on the second of
January, 1554. Three weeks afterwards, the unhappy widow gave birth to a
son, the famous Don Sebastian, whose Quixotic adventures have given him
a wider celebrity than is enjoyed by many a wiser sovereign. After the
cruel calamity which had befallen her, it was not without an effort that
Joanna resigned herself to her father's wishes, and consented to enter
on the duties of public life. In July, she quitted Lisbon,--the scene of
early joys, and of hopes for ever blighted,--and, amidst the regrets of
the whole court, returned, under a princely escort, to Castile. She was
received on the borders by the king, her brother, who conducted her to
Valladolid. Here she was installed, with due solemnity, in her office of
regent. A council of state was associated with her in the government. It
consisted of persons of the highest consideration, with the archbishop
of Seville at their head. By this body Joanna was to be advised, and
indeed to be guided in all matters of moment. Philip, on his departure,
left his sister an ample letter of instructions as to the policy to be
pursued by the administration, especially in affairs of religion.[93]

Joanna seems to have been a woman of discretion and virtue,--qualities
which belonged to the females of her line. She was liberal in her
benefactions to convents and colleges; and their cloistered inmates
showed their gratitude by the most lavish testimony to her deserts. She
had one rather singular practice. She was in the habit of dropping her
veil, when giving audience to foreign ambassadors. To prevent all doubts
as to her personal identity, she began the audience by raising her veil,
saying, "Am I not the princess?" She then again covered her face, and
the conference was continued without her further exposing her features.
"It was not necessary," says her biographer, in an accommodating spirit,
"to have the face uncovered in order to hear."[94] Perhaps Joanna
considered this reserve as suited to the season of her mourning,
intending it as a mark of respect to the memory of her deceased lord. In
any other view, we might suspect that there entered into her
constitution a vein of the same madness which darkened so large a part
of the life of her grandmother and namesake, Joanna of Castile.

Before leaving Valladolid, Philip formed a separate establishment for
his son, Don Carlos, and placed his education under the care of a
preceptor, Luis de Vives, a scholar not to be confounded with his
namesake, the learned tutor of Mary of England. Having completed his
arrangements, Philip set out for the place of his embarkation in the
north. At Compostella he passed some days, offering up his devotions to
the tutelar saint of Spain, whose shrine, throughout the Middle Ages,
had been the most popular resort of pilgrims from the western parts of
Christendom.

While at Compostella, Philip subscribed the marriage treaty, which had
been brought over from England by the earl of Bedford. He then proceeded
to Corunna, where a fleet of more than a hundred sail was riding at
anchor, in readiness to receive him. It was commanded by the admiral of
Castile, and had on board, besides its complement of seamen, four
thousand of the best troops of Spain. On the eleventh of July, Philip
embarked, with his numerous retinue, in which, together with the Flemish
Counts Egmont and Hoorne, were to be seen the dukes of Alva and Medina
Cœli, the prince of Eboli,--in short, the flower of the Castilian
nobility. They came attended by their wives and vassals, minstrels and
mummers, and a host of idle followers, to add to the splendor of the
pageant and do honor to their royal master. Yet the Spanish ambassador
at London had expressly recommended to Philip that his courtiers should
leave their ladies at home, and should come in as simple guise as
possible, so as not to arouse the jealousy of the English.[95]

After a pleasant run of a few days, the Spanish squadron came in sight
of the combined fleets of England and Flanders, under the command of the
Lord Admiral Howard, who was cruising in the channel in order to meet
the prince and convoy him to the English shore. The admiral seems to
have been a blunt sort of man, who spoke his mind with more candor than
courtesy. He greatly offended the Flemings by comparing their ships to
muscle-shells.[96] He is even said to have fired a gun as he approached
Philip's squadron, in order to compel it to lower its topsails in
acknowledgment of the supremacy of the English in the "narrow seas." But
this is probably the patriotic vaunt of an English writer, since it is
scarcely possible that the haughty Spaniard of that day would have made
such a concession, and still less so that the British commander would
have been so discourteous as to exact it on this occasion.

On the nineteenth of July, the fleets came to anchor in the port of
Southampton. A number of barges were soon seen pushing off from the
shore; one of which, protected by a rich awning and superbly lined with
cloth of gold, was manned by sailors, whose dress of white and green
intimated the royal livery. It was the queen's barge, intended for
Philip; while the other boats, all gaily ornamented, received his nobles
and their retinues.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S SPLENDID RECEPTION.]

The Spanish prince was welcomed, on landing, by a goodly company of
English lords, assembled to pay him their obeisance. The earl of Arundel
presented him, in the queen's name, with the splendid insignia of the
order of the Garter.[97] Philip's dress, as usual, was of plain black
velvet, with a berret cap, ornamented, after the fashion of the time,
with gold chains. By Mary's orders, a spirited Andalusian jennet had
been provided for him, which the prince instantly mounted. He was a good
rider, and pleased the people by his courteous bearing, and the graceful
manner in which he managed his horse.

The royal procession then moved forward to the ancient church of the
Holy Rood, where mass was said, and thanks were offered up for their
prosperous voyage. Philip, after this, repaired to the quarters assigned
to him during his stay in the town. They were sumptuously fitted up, and
the walls of the principal apartment hung with arras, commemorating the
doings of that royal polemic, Henry the Eighth. Among other inscriptions
in honor of him might be seen one proclaiming him "Head of the Church,"
and "Defender of the Faith;"--words which, as they were probably in
Latin, could not have been lost on the Spaniards.[98]

The news of Philip's landing was received in London with every
demonstration of joy. Guns were fired, bells were rung, processions were
made to the churches, bonfires were lighted in all the principal
streets, tables were spread in the squares laden with good cheer, and
wine and ale flowed freely as water for all comers.[99] In short, the
city gave itself up to a general jubilee, as if it were celebrating some
victorious monarch returned to his dominions, and not the man whose name
had lately been the object of such general execration. Mary gave instant
orders that the nobles of her court should hold themselves in readiness
to accompany her to Winchester, where she was to receive the prince; and
on the twenty-first of July she made her entry, in great state, into
that capital, and established her residence in the episcopal palace.

During the few days that Philip stayed at Southampton, he rode
constantly abroad, and showed himself frequently to the people. The
information he had received, before his voyage, of the state of public
feeling, had suggested to him some natural apprehensions for his safety.
He seems to have resolved, from the first, therefore, to adopt such a
condescending, and indeed affable demeanor, as would disarm the jealousy
of the English, and if possible conciliate their good-will. In this he
appears to have been very successful, although some of the more haughty
of the aristocracy did take exception at his neglecting to raise his cap
to them. That he should have imposed the degree of restraint which he
seems to have done on the indulgence of his natural disposition, is good
proof of the strength of his apprehensions.[100]

The favor which Philip showed the English gave umbrage to his own
nobles. They were still more disgusted by the rigid interpretation of
one of the marriage articles, by which some hundreds of their attendants
were prohibited, as foreigners, from landing, or, after landing, were
compelled to reembark, and return to Spain.[101] Whenever Philip went
abroad he was accompanied by Englishmen. He was served by Englishmen at
his meals. He breakfasted and dined in public, a thing but little to his
taste. He drank healths, after the manner of the English, and encouraged
his Spanish followers to imitate his example, as he quaffed the strong
ale of the country.[102]

On the twenty-third of the month, the earl of Pembroke arrived, with a
brilliant company of two hundred mounted gentlemen, to escort the prince
to Winchester. He was attended, moreover, by a body of English archers,
whose tunics of yellow cloth, striped with bars of red velvet, displayed
the gaudy-colored livery of the house of Aragon. The day was
unpropitious. The rain fell heavily, in such torrents as might have
cooled the enthusiasm of a more ardent lover than Philip. But he was too
gallant a cavalier to be daunted by the elements. The distance, not
great in itself, was to be travelled on horseback,--the usual mode of
conveyance at a time when roads were scarcely practicable for carriages.

Philip and his retinue had not proceeded far, when they were encountered
by a cavalier, riding at full speed, and bringing with him a ring which
Mary had sent her lover, with the request that he would not expose
himself to the weather, but postpone his departure to the following day.
The prince, not understanding the messenger, who spoke in English, and
suspecting that it was intended by Mary to warn him of some danger in
his path, instantly drew up by the road-side, and took counsel with Alva
and Egmont as to what was to be done. One of the courtiers, who
perceived his embarrassment, rode up and acquainted the prince with the
real purport of the message. Relieved of his alarm, Philip no longer
hesitated, but, with his red felt cloak wrapped closely about him and a
broad beaver slouched over his eyes, manfully pushed forward, in spite
of the tempest.

As he advanced, his retinue received continual accessions from the
neighboring gentry and yeomanry, until it amounted to some thousands
before he reached Winchester. It was late in the afternoon when the
cavalcade, soiled with travel and thoroughly drenched with rain, arrived
before the gates of the city. The mayor and aldermen, dressed in their
robes of scarlet, came to welcome the prince, and, presenting the keys
of the city, conducted him to his quarters.

That evening Philip had his first interview with Mary. It was private,
and he was taken to her residence by the chancellor, Gardiner, bishop of
Winchester. The royal pair passed an hour or more together; and, as Mary
spoke the Castilian fluently, the interview must have been spared much
of the embarrassment that would otherwise have attended it.[103]

[Sidenote: MARRIAGE OF PHILIP AND MARY.]

On the following day the parties met in public. Philip was attended by
the principal persons of his suite, of both sexes; and as the
procession, making a goodly show, passed through the streets on foot,
the minstrelsy played before them till they reached the royal residence.
The reception-room was the great hall of the palace. Mary, stepping
forward to receive her betrothed, saluted him with a loving kiss before
all the company. She then conducted him to a sort of throne, where she
took her seat by his side, under a stately canopy. They remained there
for an hour or more, conversing together, while their courtiers had
leisure to become acquainted with one another, and to find ample food,
doubtless, for future criticism, in the peculiarities of national
costume and manners. Notwithstanding the Spanish blood in Mary's veins,
the higher circles of Spain and England had personally almost as little
intercourse with one another at that period, as England and Japan have
at the present.

The ensuing day, the festival of St. James, the patron saint of Spain,
was the one appointed for the marriage. Philip exchanged his usual
simple dress for the bridal vestments provided for him by his mistress.
They were of spotless white, as the reporter is careful to inform us,
satin and cloth of gold, thickly powdered with pearls and precious
stones. Round his neck he wore the superb collar of the Golden Fleece,
the famous Burgundian order; while the brilliant riband below his knee
served as the badge of the no less illustrious order of the Garter. He
went on foot to the cathedral, attended by all his nobles, vying with
one another in the ostentatious splendor of their retinues.

Half an hour elapsed before Philip was joined by the queen at the
entrance of the cathedral. Mary was surrounded by the lords and ladies
of her court. Her dress, of white satin and cloth of gold, like his own,
was studded and fringed with diamonds of inestimable price, some of
them, doubtless, the gift of Philip, which he had sent to her by the
hands of the prince of Eboli, soon after his landing. Her bright-red
slippers, and her mantle of black velvet, formed a contrast to the rest
of her apparel, and, for a bridal costume, would hardly suit the taste
of the present day. The royal party then moved up the nave of the
cathedral, and were received in the choir by the bishop of Winchester,
supported by the great prelates of the English Church. The greatest of
all, Cranmer, the primate of all England, who should have performed the
ceremony, was absent,--in disgrace and a prisoner.

Philip and Mary took their seats under a royal canopy, with an altar
between them. The queen was surrounded by the ladies of her court; whose
beauty, says an Italian writer, acquired additional lustre by contrast
with the shadowy complexions of the south.[104] The aisles and spacious
galleries were crowded with spectators of every degree, drawn together
from the most distant quarters to witness the ceremony.

The silence was broken by Figueroa, one of the imperial council, who
read aloud an instrument of the emperor, Charles the Fifth. It stated
that this marriage had been of his own seeking; and he was desirous that
his beloved son should enter into it in a manner suitable to his own
expectations and the dignity of his illustrious consort. He therefore
resigned to him his entire right and sovereignty over the kingdom of
Naples and the duchy of Milan. The rank of the parties would thus be
equal, and Mary, instead of giving her hand to a subject, would wed a
sovereign like herself.

Some embarrassment occurred as to the person who should give the queen
away,--a part of the ceremony not provided for. After a brief
conference, it was removed by the marquis of Winchester and the earls of
Pembroke and Derby, who took it on themselves to give her away in the
name of the whole realm; at which the multitude raised a shout that made
the old walls of the cathedral ring again. The marriage service was then
concluded by the bishop of Winchester. Philip and Mary resumed their
seats, and mass was performed, when the bridegroom, rising, gave his
consort the "kiss of peace," according to the custom of the time. The
whole ceremony occupied nearly four hours. At the close of it Philip,
taking Mary by the hand, led her from the church. The royal couple were
followed by the long train of prelates and nobles, and were preceded by
the earls of Pembroke and Derby, each bearing aloft a naked sword, the
symbol of sovereignty. The effect of the spectacle was heightened by the
various costumes of the two nations,--the richly-tinted and picturesque
dresses of the Spaniards, and the solid magnificence of the English and
Flemings, mingling together in gay confusion. The glittering procession
moved slowly on, to the blithe sounds of festal music, while the air was
rent with the loyal acclamations of the populace, delighted, as usual,
with the splendor of the pageant.

In the great hall of the episcopal palace, a sumptuous banquet was
prepared for the whole company. At one end of the apartment was a dais,
on which, under a superb canopy, a table was set for the king and queen;
and a third seat was added for Bishop Gardiner, the only one of the
great lords who was admitted to the distinction of dining with royalty.

Below the dais, the tables were set on either side through the whole
length of the hall, for the English and Spanish nobles, all arranged--a
perilous point of etiquette--with due regard to their relative rank. The
royal table was covered with dishes of gold. A spacious beaufet, rising
to the height of eight stages, or shelves, and filled with a profusion
of gold and silver vessels, somewhat ostentatiously displayed the
magnificence of the prelate, or of his sovereign. Yet this ostentation
was rather Spanish than English; and was one of the forms in which the
Castilian grandee loved to display his opulence.[105]

At the bottom of the hall was an orchestra, occupied by a band of
excellent performers, who enlivened the repast by their music. But the
most interesting part of the show was that of the Winchester boys, some
of whom were permitted to enter the presence, and recite in Latin their
epithalamiums in honor of the royal nuptials, for which they received a
handsome guerdon from the queen.

[Sidenote: ROYAL ENTERTAINMENTS.]

After the banquet came the ball, at which, if we are to take an old
English authority, "the Spaniards were greatly out of countenance when
they saw the English so far excel them."[106] This seems somewhat
strange, considering that dancing is, and always has been, the national
pastime of Spain. Dancing is to the Spaniard what music is to the
Italian,--the very condition of his social existence.[107] It did not
continue late on the present occasion, and, at the temperate hour of
nine, the bridal festivities closed for the evening.[108]

Philip and Mary passed a few days in this merry way of life, at
Winchester, whence they removed, with their court, to Windsor. Here a
chapter of the order of the Garter was held, for the purpose of
installing King Philip. The herald, on this occasion, ventured to take
down the arms of England, and substitute those of Spain, in honor of the
new sovereign,--an act of deference which roused the indignation of the
English lords, who straightway compelled the functionary to restore the
national escutcheon to its proper place.[109]

On the twenty-eighth of August, Philip and Mary made their public entry
into London. They rode in on horseback, passing through the borough of
Southwark, across London Bridge. Every preparation was made by the loyal
citizens to give them a suitable reception. The columns of the buildings
were festooned with flowers, triumphal arches spanned the streets, the
walls were hung with pictures or emblazoned with legends in
commemoration of the illustrious pair, and a genealogy was traced for
Philip, setting forth his descent from John of Gaunt,--making him out,
in short, as much of an Englishman as possible.

Among the paintings was one in which Henry the Eighth was seen holding
in his hand a Bible. This device gave great scandal to the chancellor,
Gardiner, who called the painter sundry hard names, rating him roundly
for putting into King Harry's hand the sacred volume, which should
rather have been given to his daughter, Queen Mary, for her zeal to
restore the primitive worship of the Church. The unlucky artist lost no
time in repairing his error by brushing out the offending volume, and
did it so effectually, that he brushed out the royal fingers with it,
leaving the old monarch's mutilated stump held up, like some poor
mendicant's, to excite the compassion of the spectators.[110]

But the sight which, more than all these pageants, gave joy to the
hearts of the Londoners, was an immense quantity of bullion, which
Philip caused to be paraded through the city on its way to the Tower,
where it was deposited in the royal treasury. The quantity was said to
be so great, that, on one occasion, the chests containing it filled
twenty carts. On another, two wagons were so heavily laden with the
precious metal as to require to be drawn by nearly a hundred
horses.[111] The good people, who had looked to the coming of the
Spaniards as that of a swarm of locusts which was to consume their
substance, were greatly pleased to see their exhausted coffers so well
replenished from the American mines.

From London the royal pair proceeded to the shady solitudes of Hampton
Court, and Philip, weary of the mummeries in which he had been compelled
to take part, availed himself of the indisposition of his wife to
indulge in that retirement and repose which were more congenial to his
taste. This way of life in his pleasant retreat, however, does not
appear to have been so well suited to the taste of his English subjects.
At least, an old chronicler peevishly complains that "the hall-door
within the court was continually shut, so that no man might enter unless
his errand were first known; which seemed strange to Englishmen that had
not been used thereto."[112]

Yet Philip, although his apprehensions for his safety had doubtless
subsided, was wise enough to affect the same conciliatory manners as on
his first landing,--and not altogether in vain. "He discovered," says
the Venetian ambassador, in his report to the senate, "none of that
_sosiego_--the haughty indifference of the Spaniards--which
distinguished him when he first left home for Italy and Flanders.[113]
He was, indeed, as accessible as any one could desire, and gave patient
audience to all who asked it. He was solicitous," continues Micheli, "to
instruct himself in affairs, and showed a taste for application to
business,"--which, it may be added, grew stronger with years. "He spoke
little. But his remarks, though brief, were pertinent. In short," he
concludes, "he is a prince of an excellent genius, a lively
apprehension, and a judgment ripe beyond his age."

Philip's love of business, however, was not such as to lead him to take
part prematurely in the management of affairs. He discreetly left this
to the queen and her ministers, to whose judgment he affected to pay the
greatest deference. He particularly avoided all appearance of an attempt
to interfere with the administration of justice, unless it were to
obtain some act of grace. Such interference only served to gain him the
more credit with the people.[114]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S INFLUENCE.]

That he gained largely on their good-will may be inferred from the
casual remarks of more than one contemporary writer. They bear emphatic
testimony to the affability of his manners, so little to have been
expected from the popular reports of his character. "Among other
things," writes Wotton, the English minister at the French court, "one I
have been right glad to hear of is, that the king's highness useth
himself so gently and lovingly to all men. For, to tell you the truth, I
have heard some say, that, when he came out of Spain into Italy, it was
by some men wished that he had showed a somewhat more benign countenance
to the people than it was said he then did."[115] Another contemporary,
in a private letter, written soon after the king's entrance into London,
after describing his person as "so well proportioned that Nature cannot
work a more perfect pattern," concludes with commending him for his
"pregnant wit and most gentle nature."[116]

Philip, from the hour of his landing, had been constant in all his
religious observances. "He was as punctual," says Micheli, "in his
attendance at mass, and his observance of all the forms of devotion, as
any monk;--more so, as some people thought, than became his age and
station. The ecclesiastics," he adds, "with whom Philip had constant
intercourse, talked loudly of his piety."[117]

Yet there was no hypocrisy in this. However willing Philip may have been
that his concern for the interests of religion might be seen of men, it
is no less true that, as far as he understood these interests, his
concern was perfectly sincere. The actual state of England may have even
operated as an inducement with him to overcome his scruples as to the
connection with Mary. "Better not reign at all," he often remarked,
"than reign over heretics." But what triumph more glorious than that of
converting these heretics, and bringing them back again into the bosom
of the Church? He was most anxious to prepare the minds of his new
subjects for an honorable reception of the papal legate, Cardinal Pole,
who was armed with full authority to receive the submission of England
to the Holy See. He employed his personal influence with the great
nobles, and enforced it occasionally by liberal drafts on those Peruvian
ingots which he had sent to the Tower. At least, it is asserted that he
gave away yearly pensions, to the large amount of between fifty and
sixty thousand gold crowns, to sundry of the queen's ministers. It was
done on the general plea of recompensing their loyalty to their
mistress.[118]

Early in November, tidings arrived of the landing of Pole. He had been
detained some weeks in Germany, by the emperor, who felt some
distrust--not ill-founded, as it seems--of the cardinal's disposition in
regard to the Spanish match. Now that this difficulty was obviated, he
was allowed to resume his journey. He came up the Thames in a
magnificent barge, with a large silver cross, the emblem of his legatine
authority, displayed on the prow. The legate, on landing, was received
by the king, the queen, and the whole court, with a reverential
deference which argued well for the success of his mission.

He was the man, of all others, best qualified to execute it. To a
natural kindness of temper he united an urbanity and a refinement of
manners, derived from familiar intercourse with the most polished
society of Europe, his royal descent entitled him to mix on terms of
equality with persons of the highest rank, and made him feel as much at
ease in the court as in the cloister. His long exile had opened to him
an acquaintance with man as he is found in various climes, while, as a
native-born Englishman, he perfectly understood the prejudices and
peculiar temper of his own countrymen. "Cardinal Pole," says the
Venetian minister, "is a man of unblemished nobility, and so strict in
his integrity, that he grants nothing to the importunity of friends. He
is so much beloved, both by prince and people, that he may well be
styled the king where all is done by his authority."[119] An English
cardinal was not of too frequent occurrence in the sacred college. That
one should have been found at the present juncture, with personal
qualities, moreover, so well suited to the delicate mission to England,
was a coincidence so remarkable, that Philip and Mary might well be
excused for discerning in it the finger of Providence.

On the seventeenth of the month, parliament, owing to the queen's
indisposition, met at Whitehall; and Pole made that celebrated speech in
which he recapitulated some of the leading events of his own life, and
the persecutions he had endured for conscience' sake. He reviewed the
changes in religion which had taken place in England, and implored his
audience to abjure their spiritual errors, and to seek a reconciliation
with the Catholic Church. He assured them of his plenary power to grant
absolution for the past; and--what was no less important--to authorize
the present proprietors to retain possession of the abbey lands which
had been confiscated under King Henry. This last concession, which had
been extorted with difficulty from the pope, reconciling, as it did,
temporal with spiritual interests, seems to have dispelled whatever
scruples yet lingered in the breasts of the legislature. There were few,
probably, in that goodly company, whose zeal would have aspired to the
crown of martyrdom.

The ensuing day, parliament, in obedience to the royal summons, again
assembled at Whitehall. Philip took his seat on the left of Mary, under
the same canopy, while Cardinal Pole sat at a greater distance on her
right.[120]

[Sidenote: THE CATHOLIC CHURCH RESTORED.]

The chancellor, Gardiner, then presented a petition in the name of the
lords and commons, praying for reconciliation with the papal see.
Absolution was solemnly pronounced by the legate, and the whole assembly
received his benediction on their bended knees. England, purified from
her heresy, was once more restored to the communion of the Roman
Catholic Church.

Philip instantly despatched couriers, with the glad tidings, to Rome,
Brussels, and other capitals of Christendom. Everywhere the event was
celebrated with public rejoicings, as if it had been some great victory
over the Saracens. As Philip's zeal for the faith was well known, and as
the great change had taken place soon after his arrival in England, much
of the credit of it was ascribed to him.[121] Thus, before ascending the
throne of Spain, he had vindicated his claim to the title of Catholic,
so much prized by the Spanish monarchs. He had won a triumph greater
than that which his father had been able to win after years of war, over
the Protestants of Germany; greater than any which had been won by the
arms of Cortés or Pizarro in the New World. Their contest had been with
the barbarian; the field of Philip's labors was one of the most potent
and civilized countries of Europe.

The work of conversion was speedily followed by that of persecution. To
what extent Philip's influence was exerted in this is not manifest.
Indeed, from anything that appears, it would not be easy to decide
whether his influence was employed to promote or to prevent it. One fact
is certain, that, immediately after the first martyrs suffered at
Smithfield, Alfonso de Castro, a Spanish friar, preached a sermon in
which he bitterly inveighed against these proceedings. He denounced them
as repugnant to the true spirit of Christianity, which was that of
charity and forgiveness, and which enjoined its ministers not to take
vengeance on the sinner, but to enlighten him as to his errors, and
bring him to repentance.[122] This bold appeal had its effect, even in
that season of excitement. For a few weeks the arm of persecution seemed
to be palsied. But it was only for a few weeks. Toleration was not the
virtue of the sixteenth century. The charitable doctrines of the good
friar fell on hearts withered by fanaticism; and the spirit of
intolerance soon rekindled the fires of Smithfield into a fiercer glow
than before.

Yet men wondered at the source whence these strange doctrines had
proceeded. The friar was Philip's confessor. It was argued that he would
not have dared to speak thus boldly, had it not been by the command of
Philip, or, at least, by his consent. That De Castro should have thus
acted at the suggestion of his master is contradicted by the whole tenor
of Philip's life. Hardly four years elapsed before he countenanced by
his presence an _auto da fé_ in Valladolid, where fourteen persons
perished at the stake; and the burning of heretics in England could have
done no greater violence to his feelings than the burning of heretics in
Spain. If the friar did indeed act in obedience to Philip, we may well
suspect that the latter was influenced less by motives of humanity than
of policy; and that the disgust manifested by the people at the
spectacle of these executions may have led him to employ this expedient
to relieve himself of any share in the odium which attached to
them.[123]

What was the real amount of Philip's influence, in this or other
matters, it is not possible to determine. It is clear that he was
careful not to arouse the jealousy of the English by any parade of
it.[124] One obvious channel of it lay in the queen, who seems to have
doated on him with a fondness that one would hardly have thought a
temper cold and repulsive, like that of Philip, capable of exciting. But
he was young and good-looking. His manners had always been found to
please the sex, even where he had not been so solicitous to please as he
was in England. He was Mary's first and only love; for the emperor was
too old to have touched aught but her vanity, and Courtenay was too
frivolous to have excited any other than a temporary feeling. This
devotion to Philip, according to some accounts, was ill requited by his
gallantries. The Venetian ambassador says of him, that "he well deserved
the tenderness of his wife, for he was the most loving and the best of
husbands." But it seems probable that the Italian, in his estimate of
the best of husbands, adopted the liberal standard of his own
country.[125]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S INFLUENCE.]

About the middle of November, parliament was advised that the queen was
in a state of pregnancy. The intelligence was received with the joy
usually manifested by loyal subjects on like occasions. The emperor
seems to have been particularly pleased with this prospect of an heir,
who, by the terms of the marriage treaty, would make a division of that
great empire which it had been the object of its master's life to build
up and consolidate under one sceptre. The commons, soon after, passed an
act empowering Philip, in case it should go otherwise than well with the
queen at the time of her confinement, to assume the regency, and take
charge of the education of her child during its minority. The regency
was to be limited by the provisions of the marriage treaty. But the act
may be deemed evidence that Philip had gained on the confidence of his
new subjects.

The symptoms continued to be favorable; and, as the time approached for
Mary's confinement, messengers were held in readiness to bear the
tidings to the different courts. The loyal wishes of the people ran so
far ahead of reality, that the rumor went abroad of the actual birth of
a prince. Bells were rung, bonfires lighted; _Te Deum_ was sung in some
of the churches; and one of the preachers "took upon him to describe the
proportions of the child, how fair, how beautiful and great a prince it
was, as the like had not been seen!" "But for all this great labor,"
says the caustic chronicler, "for their yoong maister long looked for
coming so surely into the world, in the end appeared neither yoong
maister nor yoong maistress, that any man to this day can hear of."[126]

The queen's disorder proved to be a dropsy. But, notwithstanding the
mortifying results of so many prognostics and preparations, and the
ridicule which attached to it, Mary still cherished the illusion of one
day giving an heir to the crown. Her husband did not share in this
illusion; and, as he became convinced that she had no longer prospect of
issue, he found less inducement to protract his residence in a country
which, on many accounts, was most distasteful to him. Whatever show of
deference might be paid to him, his haughty spirit could not be pleased
by the subordinate part which he was compelled to play, in public, to
the queen. The parliament had never so far acceded to Mary's wishes as
to consent to his coronation as king of England. Whatever weight he may
have had in the cabinet, it had not been such as to enable him to make
the politics of England subservient to his own interests, or, what was
the same thing, to those of his father. Parliament would not consent to
swerve so far from the express provisions of the marriage treaty as to
become a party in the emperor's contest with France.[127]

Nor could the restraint constantly imposed on Philip, by his desire to
accommodate himself to the tastes and habits of the English, be
otherwise than irksome to him. If he had been more successful in this
than might have been expected, yet it was not possible to overcome the
prejudices, the settled antipathy, with which the Spaniards were
regarded by the great mass of the people, as was evident from the
satirical shafts, which, from time to time, were launched by
pamphleteers and ballad-makers, both against the king and his followers.

These latter were even more impatient than their master of their stay in
a country where they met with so many subjects of annoyance. If a
Spaniard bought anything, complains one of the nation, he was sure to be
charged an exorbitant price for it.[128] If he had a quarrel with an
Englishman, says another writer, he was to be tried by English law, and
was very certain to come off the worst.[129] Whether right or wrong, the
Spaniards could hardly fail to find abundant cause of irritation and
disgust. The two nations were too dissimilar for either of them to
comprehend the other. It was with no little satisfaction, therefore,
that Philip's followers learned that their master had received a summons
from his father to leave England, and join him in Flanders.

The cause of this sudden movement was one that filled the Castilians, as
it did all Europe, with astonishment,--the proposed abdication of
Charles the Fifth. It was one that might seem to admit of neither doubt
nor delay on Philip's part. But Mary, distressed by the prospect of
separation, prevailed on her husband to postpone his departure for
several weeks. She yielded, at length, to the necessity of the case.
Preparations were made for Philip's journey, and Mary, with a heavy
heart, accompanied her royal consort down the Thames to Greenwich. Here
they parted; and Philip, taking an affectionate farewell, and commending
the queen and her concerns to the care of Cardinal Pole, took the road
to Dover.

After a short detention there by contrary winds, he crossed over to
Calais, and on the fourth of September made his entry into that strong
place, the last remnant of all their continental acquisitions that still
belonged to the English.

Philip was received by the authorities of the city with the honors due
to his rank. He passed some days there receiving the respectful
courtesies of the inhabitants, and, on his departure, rejoiced the
hearts of the garrison by distributing among them a thousand crowns of
gold. He resumed his journey, with his splendid train of Castilian and
English nobles, among whom were the earls of Arundel, Pembroke,
Huntington, and others of the highest station in the realm. On the road,
he was met by a military escort sent by his father; and towards the
latter part of September, 1555, Philip, with his gallant retinue, made
his entry into the Flemish capital, where the emperor and his court were
eagerly awaiting his arrival.[130]

[Sidenote: EMPIRE OF PHILIP]




CHAPTER V.

WAR WITH THE POPE.

Empire of Philip.--Paul the Fourth.--Court of France.--League against
Spain.--The Duke of Alva.--Preparations for War.--Victorious Campaign.

1555, 1556.


Soon after Philip's arrival in Brussels took place that memorable scene
of the abdication of Charles the Fifth, which occupies the introductory
pages of our narrative. By this event, Philip saw himself master of the
most widely extended and powerful monarchy in Europe. He was king of
Spain, comprehending under that name Castile, Aragon, and Granada,
which, after surviving as independent states for centuries, had been
first brought under one sceptre in the reign of his father, Charles the
Fifth. He was king of Naples and Sicily, and duke of Milan, which
important possessions enabled him to control, to a great extent, the
nicely balanced scales of Italian politics. He was lord of Franche
Comté, and of the Low Countries, comprehending the most flourishing and
populous provinces in Christendom, whose people had made the greatest
progress in commerce, husbandry, and the various mechanic arts. As
titular king of England, he eventually obtained an influence, which, as
we shall see, enabled him to direct the counsels of that country to his
own purposes. In Africa he possessed the Cape de Verd Islands and the
Canaries, as well as Tunis, Oran, and some other important places on the
Barbary coast. He owned the Philippines and the Spice Islands in Asia.
In America, besides his possessions in the West Indies, he was master of
the rich empires of Mexico and Peru, and claimed a right to a boundless
extent of country, that offered an inexhaustible field to the cupidity
and enterprise of the Spanish adventurer. Thus the dominions of Philip
stretched over every quarter of the globe. The flag of Castile was seen
in the remotest latitudes,--on the Atlantic, the Pacific, and the
far-off Indian seas,--passing from port to port, and uniting by
commercial intercourse the widely scattered members of her vast colonial
empire.

The Spanish army consisted of the most formidable infantry in Europe;
veterans who had been formed under the eye of Charles the Fifth and of
his generals, who had fought on the fields of Pavia and of Muhlberg, or
who, in the New World, had climbed the Andes with Almagro and Pizarro,
and helped these bold chiefs to overthrow the dynasty of the Incas. The
navy of Spain and Flanders combined far exceeded that of any other power
in the number and size of its vessels; and if its supremacy might be
contested by England on the "narrow seas," it rode the undisputed
mistress of the ocean. To supply the means for maintaining this costly
establishment, as well as the general machinery of government, Philip
had at his command the treasures of the New World; and if the incessant
enterprises of his father had drained the exchequer, it was soon
replenished by the silver streams that flowed in from the inexhaustible
mines of Zacatecas and Potosí.

All this vast empire, with its magnificent resources, was placed at the
disposal of a single man. Philip ruled over it with an authority more
absolute than that possessed by any European prince since the days of
the Cæsars. The Netherlands, indeed, maintained a show of independence
under the shadow of their ancient institutions. But they consented to
supply the necessities of the crown by a tax larger than the revenues of
America. Naples and Milan were ruled by Spanish viceroys. Viceroys, with
delegated powers scarcely less than those of their sovereign, presided
over the American colonies, which received their laws from the parent
country. In Spain itself, the authority of the nobles was gone. First
assailed under Ferdinand and Isabella, it was completely broken down
under Charles the Fifth. The liberties of the commons were crushed at
the fatal battle of Villalar, in the beginning of that monarch's reign.
Without nobles, without commons, the ancient cortes had faded into a
mere legislative pageant, with hardly any other right than that of
presenting petitions, and of occasionally raising an ineffectual note of
remonstrance against abuses. It had lost the power to redress them. Thus
all authority vested in the sovereign. His will was the law of the land.
From his palace at Madrid he sent forth the edicts which became the law
of Spain and of her remotest colonies. It may well be believed that
foreign nations watched with interest the first movements of a prince
who seemed to hold in his hands the destinies of Europe; and that they
regarded with no little apprehension the growth of that colossal power
which had already risen to a height that cast a shadow over every other
monarchy.

From his position, Philip stood at the head of the Roman Catholic
princes. He was in temporal matters what the pope was in spiritual. In
the existing state of Christendom, he had the same interest as the pope
in putting down that spirit of religious reform which had begun to show
itself, in public or in private, in every corner of Europe. He was the
natural ally of the pope. He understood this well, and would have acted
on it. Yet, strange to say, his very first war, after his accession, was
with the pope himself. It was a war not of Philip's seeking.

[Sidenote: PAUL THE FOURTH.]

The papal throne was at that time filled by Paul the Fourth, one of
those remarkable men, who, amidst the shadowy personages that have
reigned in the Vatican, and been forgotten, have vindicated to
themselves a permanent place in history. He was a Neapolitan by birth,
of the noble family of the Caraffas. He was bred to the religious
profession, and early attracted notice by his diligent application and
the fruits he gathered from it. His memory was prodigious. He was not
only deeply read in theological science, but skilled in various
languages, ancient and modern, several of which he spoke with fluency.
His rank, sustained by his scholarship, raised him speedily to high
preferment in the Church. In 1513, when thirty-six years of age, he went
as nuncio to England. In 1525, he resigned his benefices, and, with a
small number of his noble friends, he instituted a new religious order,
called the Theatins.[131] The object of the society was, to combine, to
some extent, the contemplative habits of the monk with the more active
duties of the secular clergy. The members visited the sick, buried the
dead, and preached frequently in public, thus performing the most
important functions of the priesthood. For this last vocation, of
public speaking, Caraffa was peculiarly qualified by a flow of natural
eloquence, which, if it did not always convince, was sure to carry away
the audience by its irresistible fervor.[132] The new order showed
itself particularly zealous in enforcing reform in the Catholic clergy,
and in stemming the tide of heresy which now threatened to inundate the
Church. Caraffa and his associates were earnest to introduce the
Inquisition. A life of asceticism and penance too often extinguishes
sympathy with human suffering, and leads its votaries to regard the
sharpest remedies as the most effectual for the cure of spiritual error.

From this austere way of life Caraffa was called, in 1536, to a
situation which engaged him more directly in worldly concerns. He was
made cardinal by Paul the Third. He had, as far back as the time of
Ferdinand the Catholic, been one of the royal council of Naples. The
family of Caraffa, however, was of the Angevine party, and regarded the
house of Aragon in the light of usurpers. The cardinal had been educated
in this political creed, and, even after his elevation to his new
dignity, he strongly urged Paul the Third to assert the claims of the
holy see to the sovereignty of Naples. This conduct, which came to the
ears of Charles the Fifth, so displeased that monarch that he dismissed
Caraffa from the council. Afterwards, when the cardinal was named by the
pope, his unfailing patron, to the archbishopric of Naples, Charles
resisted the nomination, and opposed all the obstacles in his power to
the collection of the episcopal revenues. These indignities sank deep
into the cardinal's mind, naturally tenacious of affronts; and what, at
first, had been only a political animosity, was now sharpened into
personal hatred of the most implacable character.[133]

Such was the state of feeling when, on the death of Marcellus the
Second, in 1555, Cardinal Caraffa was raised to the papal throne. His
election, as was natural, greatly disgusted the emperor, and caused
astonishment throughout Europe; for he had not the conciliatory manners
which win the favor and the suffrages of mankind. But the Catholic
Church stood itself in need of a reformer, to enable it to resist the
encroaching spirit of Protestantism. This was well understood not only
by the highest, but by the humblest ecclesiastics; and in Caraffa they
saw the man whose qualities precisely fitted him to effect such a
reform. He was, moreover, at the time of his election, in his eightieth
year; and age and infirmity have always proved powerful arguments with
the sacred college, as affording the numerous competitors the best
guaranties for a speedy vacancy. Yet it has more than once happened that
the fortunate candidate, who has owed his election mainly to his
infirmities, has been miraculously restored by the touch of the tiara.

Paul the Fourth--for such was the name assumed by the new pope, in
gratitude to the memory of his patron--adopted a way of life, on his
accession, for which his brethren of the college were not at all
prepared. The austerity and self-denial of earlier days formed a strong
contrast to the pomp of his present establishment and the profuse luxury
of his table. When asked how he would be served, "How but as a great
prince?" he answered. He usually passed three hours at his dinner, which
consisted of numerous courses of the most refined and epicurean dishes.
No one dined with him, though one or more of the cardinals were usually
present, with whom he freely conversed; and as he accompanied his meals
with large draughts of the thick, black wine of Naples, it no doubt gave
additional animation to his discourse.[134] At such times, his favorite
theme was the Spaniards, whom he denounced as the scum of the earth, a
race accursed of God, heretics and schismatics, the spawn of Jews and of
Moors. He bewailed the humiliation of Italy, galled by the yoke of a
nation so abject. But the day had come, he would thunder out, when
Charles and Philip were to be called to a reckoning for their ill-gotten
possessions, and be driven from the land![135]

Yet Paul did not waste all his hours in this idle vaporing, nor in the
pleasures of the table. He showed the same activity as ever in the
labors of the closet, and in attention to business. He was irregular in
his hours, sometimes prolonging his studies through the greater part of
the night, and at others rising long before the dawn. When thus engaged,
it would not have been well for any one of his household to venture into
his presence, without a summons.

Paul seemed to be always in a state of nervous tension. "He is all
nerve," the Venetian minister, Navagero, writes of him; "and when he
walks, it is with a free, elastic step, as if he hardly touched the
ground."[136] His natural arrogance, was greatly increased by his
elevation to the first dignity in Christendom. He had always entertained
the highest ideas of the authority of the sacerdotal office; and now
that he was in the chair of St. Peter, he seemed to have entire
confidence in his own infallibility. He looked on the princes of Europe,
not so much as his sons--the language of the Church--as his servants,
bound to do his bidding. Paul's way of thinking would have better suited
the twelfth century than the sixteenth. He came into the world at least
three centuries too late. In all his acts he relied solely on himself.
He was impatient of counsel from any one, and woe to the man who
ventured to oppose any remonstrance, still more any impediment to the
execution of his plans. He had no misgivings as to the wisdom of these
plans. An idea that had once taken possession of his mind lay there, to
borrow a cant phrase of the day, like "a fixed fact,"--not to be
disturbed by argument or persuasion. We occasionally meet with such
characters, in which strength of will and unconquerable energy in action
pass for genius with the world. They, in fact, serve as the best
substitute for genius, by the ascendancy which such qualities secure
their possessors over ordinary minds. Yet there were ways of approaching
the pontiff, for those who understood his character, and who, by
condescending to flatter his humors, could turn them to their own
account. Such was the policy pursued by some of Paul's kindred, who,
cheered by his patronage, now came forth from their obscurity to glitter
in the rays of the meridian sun.

[Sidenote: COURT OF FRANCE.]

Paul had all his life declaimed against nepotism as an opprobrious sin
in the head of the Church. Yet no sooner did he put on the tiara than he
gave a glaring example of the sin he had denounced, in the favors which
he lavished on three of his own nephews. This was the more remarkable,
as they were men whose way of life had given scandal even to the
Italians, not used to be too scrupulous in their judgments.

The eldest, who represented the family, he raised to the rank of duke,
providing him with an ample fortune from the confiscated property of the
Colonnas,--which illustrious house was bitterly persecuted by Paul, for
its attachment to the Spanish interests.

Another of his nephews he made a cardinal,--a dignity for which he was
indifferently qualified by his former profession, which was that of a
soldier, and still less fitted by his life, which was that of a
libertine. He was a person of a busy, intriguing disposition, and
stimulated his uncle's vindictive feelings against the Spaniards, whom
he himself hated, for some affront which he conceived had been put upon
him while in the emperor's service.[137]

But Paul needed no prompter in this matter. He very soon showed that,
instead of ecclesiastical reform, he was bent on a project much nearer
to his heart,--the subversion of the Spanish power in Naples. Like
Julius the Second, of warlike memory, he swore to drive out the
_barbarians_ from Italy. He seemed to think that the thunders of the
Vatican were more than a match for all the strength of the empire and of
Spain. But he was not weak enough to rely wholly on his spiritual
artillery in such a contest. Through the French ambassador at his court,
he opened negotiations with France, and entered into a secret treaty
with that power, by which each of the parties agreed to furnish a
certain contingent of men and money to carry on the war for the recovery
of Naples. The treaty was executed on the sixteenth of December,
1555.[138]

In less than two months after this event, on the fifth of February,
1556, the fickle monarch of France, seduced by the advantageous offers
of Charles, backed, moreover, by the ruinous state of his own finances,
deserted his new ally, and signed the treaty of Vaucelles, which secured
a truce for five years between his dominions and those of Philip.

Paul received the news of this treaty while surrounded by his courtiers.
He treated the whole with scepticism, but expressed the pious hope, that
such a peace might be in store for the nations of Christendom. In
private he was not so temperate. But without expending his wrath in
empty menaces, he took effectual means to bring things back to their
former state,--to induce the French king to renew the treaty with
himself, and at once to begin hostilities. He knew the vacillating
temper of the monarch he had to deal with. Cardinal Caraffa was
accordingly despatched on a mission to Paris, fortified with ample
powers for the arrangement of a new treaty, and with such tempting
promises on the part of his holiness as might insure its acceptance by
the monarch and his ministers.

The French monarchy was, at that time, under the sceptre of Henry the
Second, the son of Francis the First, to whose character his own bore no
resemblance; or rather the resemblance consisted in those showy
qualities which lie too near the surface to enter into what may be
called character. He affected a chivalrous vein, excelled in the
exercises of the tourney, and indulged in vague aspirations after
military renown. In short, he fancied himself a hero, and seems to have
imposed on some of his own courtiers so far as to persuade them that he
was designed for one. But he had few of the qualities which enter into
the character of a hero. He was as far from being a hero as he was from
being a good Christian, though he thought to prove his orthodoxy by
persecuting the Protestants, who were now rising into a formidable sect
in the southern parts of his kingdom. He had little reliance on his own
resources, leading a life of easy indulgence, and trusting the direction
of his affairs to his favorites and his mistresses.

The most celebrated of these was Diana of Poictiers, created by Henry
duchess of Valentinois, who preserved her personal charms and her
influence over her royal lover to a much later period than usually
happens. The persons of his court in whom the king most confided were
the Constable Montmorency and the duke of Guise.

Anne de Montmorency, constable of France, was one of the proudest of the
French nobility,--proud alike of his great name, his rank, and his
authority with his sovereign. He had grown gray in the service of the
court, and Henry, accustomed to his society from boyhood, had learned to
lean on him for the execution of his measures. Yet his judgments, though
confidently given, were not always sound. His views were far from being
enlarged; and though full of courage, he showed little capacity for
military affairs. A consciousness of this, perhaps, may have led him to
recommend a pacific policy, suited to his own genius. He was a stanch
Catholic, extremely punctilious in all the ceremonies of devotion, and,
if we may credit Brantôme, would strangely mingle together the military
and the religious. He repeated his Pater-Noster at certain fixed hours,
whatever might be his occupation at the time. He would occasionally
break off to give his orders, calling out, "Cut me down such a man!"
"Hang up another!" "Run those fellows through with your lances!" "Set
fire to that village!"--and so on; when, having thus relieved the
military part of his conscience, he would go on with his Pater-Nosters
as before.[139]

A very different character was that of his younger rival, Francis, duke
of Guise, uncle to Mary, queen of Scots, and brother to the regent. Of a
bold, aspiring temper, filled with the love of glory, brilliant and
popular in his address, he charmed the people by his manners and the
splendor of his equipage and dress. He came to court, attended usually
by three or four hundred cavaliers, who formed themselves on Guise as
their model. His fine person was set off by the showy costume of the
time,--a crimson doublet and cloak of spotless ermine, and a cap
ornamented with a scarlet plume. In this dress he might often be seen,
mounted on his splendid charger and followed by a gay retinue of
gentlemen, riding at full gallop through the streets of Paris, and
attracting the admiration of the people.

[Sidenote: LEAGUE AGAINST SPAIN.]

But his character was not altogether made up of such vanities. He was
sagacious in counsel, and had proved himself the best captain of France.
It was he who commanded at the memorable siege of Metz, and foiled the
efforts of the imperial forces under Charles and the duke of Alva.
Caraffa found little difficulty in winning him over to his cause, as he
opened to the ambitious chief the brilliant perspective of the conquest
of Naples. The arguments of the wily Italian were supported by the
duchess of Valentinois. It was in vain that the veteran Montmorency
reminded the king of the ruinous state of the finances, which had driven
him to the shameful expedient of putting up public offices to sale. The
other party represented that the condition of Spain, after her long
struggle, was little better; that the reins of government had now been
transferred from the wise Charles to the hands of his inexperienced son;
and that the coöperation of Rome afforded a favorable conjunction of
circumstances, not to be neglected. Henry was further allured by
Caraffa's assurance that his uncle would grant to the French monarch the
investiture of Naples for one of his younger sons, and bestow Milan on
another. The offer was too tempting to be resisted.

One objection occurred, in certain conscientious scruples as to the
violation of the recent treaty of Vaucelles. But for this the pope, who
had anticipated the objection, readily promised absolution. As the king
also intimated some distrust lest the successor of Paul, whose advanced
age made his life precarious, might not be inclined to carry out the
treaty, Caraffa was authorized to assure him that this danger should be
obviated by the creation of a batch of French cardinals, or of cardinals
in the French interest.

All the difficulties being thus happily disposed of, the treaty was
executed in the month of July, 1556. The parties agreed each to furnish
about twelve thousand infantry, five hundred men-at-arms, and the same
number of light horse. France was to contribute three hundred and fifty
thousand ducats to the expenses of the war, and Rome one hundred and
fifty thousand. The French troops were to be supplied with provisions by
the pope, for which they were to reimburse his holiness. It was moreover
agreed, that the crown of Naples should be settled on a younger son of
Henry, that a considerable tract on the northern frontier should be
transferred to the papal territory, and that ample estates should be
provided from the new conquests for the three nephews of his holiness.
In short, the system of partition was as nicely adjusted as if the
quarry were actually in their possession, ready to be cut up and divided
among the parties.[140]

Finally, it was arranged that Henry should invite the Sultan Solyman to
renew his former alliance with France, and make a descent with his
galleys on the coast of Calabria. Thus did his most Christian majesty,
with the pope for one of his allies and the Grand Turk for the other,
prepare to make war on the most Catholic prince in Christendom![141]

Meanwhile, Paul the Fourth, elated by the prospect of a successful
negotiation, threw off the little decency he had hitherto preserved in
his deportment. He launched out into invectives more bitter than ever
against Philip, and in a tone of defiance told such of the Spanish
cardinals as were present that they might repeat his sayings to their
master. He talked of instituting a legal process against the king for
the recovery of Naples, which he had forfeited by omitting to pay the
yearly tribute to the holy see. The pretext was ill-founded, as the pope
well knew. But the process went on with suitable gravity, and a sentence
of forfeiture was ultimately pronounced against the Spanish monarch.

With these impotent insults, Paul employed more effectual means of
annoyance. He persecuted all who showed any leaning to the Spanish
interest. He set about repairing the walls of Rome, and strengthening
the garrisons on the frontier. His movements raised great alarm among
the Romans, who had too vivid a recollection of their last war with
Spain, under Clement the Seventh, to wish for another. Garcilasso de la
Vega, who had represented Philip, during his father's reign, at the
papal court, wrote a full account of these doings to the viceroy of
Naples. Garcilasso was instantly thrown into prison. Taxis, the Spanish
director of the posts, was both thrown into prison and put to the
torture. Saria, the imperial ambassador, after in vain remonstrating
against these outrages, waited on the pope to demand his passport, and
was kept standing a full hour at the gate of the Vatican, before he was
admitted.[142]

Philip had full intelligence of all these proceedings. He had long since
descried the dark storm that was mustering beyond the Alps. He had
provided for it at the close of the preceding year, by committing the
government of Naples to the man most competent to such a crisis. This
was the duke of Alva, at that time governor of Milan, and
commander-in-chief of the army in Italy. As this remarkable person is to
occupy a large space in the subsequent pages of this narrative, it may
be well to give some account of his earlier life.

Fernando Alvarez de Toledo was descended from an illustrious house in
Castile, whose name is associated with some of the most memorable events
in the national history. He was born in 1508, and while a child had the
misfortune to lose his father, who perished in Africa, at the siege of
Gelves. The care of the orphan devolved on his grandfather, the
celebrated conqueror of Navarre. Under this veteran teacher the young
Fernando received his first lessons in war, being present at more than
one skirmish when quite a boy. This seems to have sharpened his appetite
for a soldier's life, for we find him at the age of sixteen, secretly
leaving his home and taking service under the banner of the Constable
Velasco, at the siege of Fontarabia. He was subsequently made governor
of that place. In 1527, when not twenty years of age, he came, by his
grandfather's death, into possession of the titles and large patrimonial
estates of the house of Toledo.

The capacity which he displayed, as well as his high rank, soon made him
an object of attention; and as Philip grew in years, the duke of Alva
was placed near his person, formed one of his council, and took part in
the regency of Castile. He accompanied Philip on his journeys from
Spain, and, as we have seen, made one of his retinue both in Flanders
and in England. The duke was of too haughty and imperious a temper to
condescend to those arts which are thought to open the most ready
avenues to the favor of the sovereign. He met with rivals of a finer
policy and more accommodating disposition. Yet Philip perfectly
comprehended his character. He knew the strength of his understanding,
and did full justice to his loyalty; and he showed his confidence in his
integrity by placing him in offices of the highest responsibility.

[Sidenote: PREPARATIONS FOR WAR.]

The emperor, with his usual insight into character, had early discerned
the military talents of the young nobleman. He took Alva along with him
on his campaigns in Germany, where from a subordinate station he rapidly
rose to the first command in the army. Such was his position at the
unfortunate siege of Metz, where the Spanish infantry had nearly been
sacrificed to the obstinacy of Charles.

In his military career the duke displayed some of the qualities most
characteristic of his countrymen. But they were those qualities which
belong to a riper period of life. He showed little of that romantic and
adventurous spirit of the Spanish cavalier, which seemed to court peril
for its own sake, and would hazard all on a single cast. Caution was his
prominent trait, in which he was a match for any graybeard in the
army;--a caution carried to such a length as sometimes to put a curb on
the enterprising spirit of the emperor. Men were amazed to see so old a
head on so young shoulders.

Yet this caution was attended by a courage which dangers could not
daunt, and by a constancy which toil, however severe, could not tire. He
preferred the surest, even though the slowest, means to attain his
object. He was not ambitious of effect; he never sought to startle by a
brilliant _coup-de-main_. He would not have compromised a single chance
in his own favor by appealing to the issue of a battle. He looked
steadily to the end, and he moved surely towards it by a system of
operations planned with the nicest forecast. The result of these
operations was almost always success. Few great commanders have been
more uniformly successful in their campaigns. Yet it was rare that these
campaigns were marked by what is so dazzling to the imagination of the
young aspirant for glory,--a great and decisive victory.--Such were some
of the more obvious traits in the military character of the chief to
whom Philip, at this crisis, confided the post of viceroy of
Naples.[143]

Before commencing hostilities against the Church, the Spanish monarch
determined to ease his conscience, by obtaining, if possible, a warrant
for his proceedings from the Church itself. He assembled a body composed
of theologians from Salamanca, Alcalá, Valladolid, and some other
places, and of jurists from his several councils, to resolve certain
queries which he propounded. Among the rest, he inquired whether, in
case of a defensive war with the pope, it would not be lawful to
sequestrate the revenues of those persons, natives or foreigners, who
had benefices in Spain, but who refused obedience to the orders of its
sovereign;--whether he might not lay an embargo on all revenues of the
Church, and prohibit any remittance of moneys to Rome;--whether a
council might not be convoked to determine the validity of Paul's
election, which, in some particulars, was supposed to have been
irregular;--whether inquiry might not be made into the gross abuses of
ecclesiastical patronage by the Roman see, and effectual measures taken
to redress them. The suggestion of an ecclesiastical council was a
menace that grated unpleasantly on the pontifical ear, and was used by
European princes as a sort of counterblast to the threat of
excommunication. The particular objects for which this council was to be
summoned were not of a kind to soothe the irritable nerves of his
holiness. The conclave of theologians and jurists made as favorable
responses as the king had anticipated to his several interrogatories;
and Philip, under so respectable a sanction, sent orders to his viceroy
to take effectual measures for the protection of Naples.[144]

Alva had not waited for these orders, but had busily employed himself in
mustering his resources, and in collecting troops from the Abruzzi and
other parts of his territory. As hostilities were inevitable, he
determined to strike the first blow, and carry the war into the enemy's
country, before he had time to cross the Neapolitan frontier. Like his
master, however, the duke was willing to release himself, as far as
possible, from personal responsibility before taking up arms against the
head of the Church. He accordingly addressed a manifesto to the pope and
the cardinals, setting forth in glowing terms the manifold grievances of
his sovereign; the opprobrious and insulting language of Paul; the
indignities offered to Philip's agents, and to the imperial ambassador;
the process instituted for depriving his master of Naples; and, lastly,
the warlike demonstrations of the pope along the frontier, which left no
doubt as to his designs. He conjured his holiness to pause before he
plunged his country into war. As the head of the Church, it was his duty
to preserve peace, not to bring war into Christendom. He painted the
inevitable evils of war, and the ruin and devastation which it must
bring on the fair fields of Italy. If this were done, it would be the
pope's doing, and his would be the responsibility. On the part of
Naples, the war would be a war of defence. For himself, he had no
alternative. He was placed there to maintain the possessions of his
sovereign; and, by the blessing of God, he would maintain them to the
last drop of his blood.[145]

Alva, while making this appeal to the pope, invoked the good offices of
the Venetian government in bringing about a reconciliation between
Philip and the Vatican. His spirited manifesto to the pope was intrusted
to a special messenger, a person of some consideration in Naples. The
only reply which the hot-headed pontiff made to it was to throw the
envoy into prison, and, as some state, to put him to the torture.

Meanwhile, Alva, who had not placed much reliance on the success of his
appeal, had mustered a force, amounting in all to twelve thousand
infantry, fifteen hundred horse, and a train of twelve pieces of
artillery. His infantry was chiefly made up of Neapolitans, some of whom
had seen but little service. The strength of his army lay in his Spanish
veterans, forming one third of his force. The place of rendezvous was
San Germano, a town on the northern frontier of the kingdom. On the
first of September, 1556, Alva, attended by a gallant band of cavaliers,
left the capital, and on the fourth arrived at the place appointed. The
following day he crossed the borders at the head of his troops, and
marched on Pontecorvo. He met with no resistance from the inhabitants,
who at once threw open their gates to him. Several other places followed
the example of Pontecorvo; and Alva, taking possession of them, caused a
scutcheon displaying the arms of the sacred college to be hung up in the
principal church of each town, with a placard announcing that he held it
only for the college, until the election of a new pontiff. By this act
he proclaimed to the Christian world that the object of the war, as far
as Spain was concerned, was not conquest, but defence. Some historians
find in it a deeper policy,--that of exciting feelings of distrust
between the pope and the cardinals.[146]

Anagni, a place of some strength, refused the duke's summons to
surrender. He was detained three days before his guns had opened a
practicable breach in the walls. He then ordered an assault. The town
was stormed and delivered up to sack,--by which phrase is to be
understood the perpetration of all those outrages which the ruthless
code of war allowed, in that age, on the persons and property of the
defenceless inhabitants, without regard to sex or age.[147]

One or two other places which made resistance shared the fate of Anagni;
and the duke of Alva, having garrisoned his new conquests with such
forces as he could spare, led his victorious legions against Tivoli,--a
town strongly situated on elevated ground, commanding the eastern
approaches to the capital. The place surrendered without attempting a
defence; and Alva, willing to give his men some repose, made Tivoli his
head-quarters; while his army spread over the suburbs and adjacent
country, which afforded good forage for his cavalry.

The rapid succession of these events, the fall of town after town, and,
above all, the dismal fate of Anagni, filled the people of Rome with
terror. The women began to hurry out of the city; many of the men would
have followed but for the interference of Cardinal Caraffa. The panic
was as great as if the enemy had been already at the gates of the
capital. Amidst this general consternation, Paul seemed to be almost the
only person who retained his self-possession. Navagero, the Venetian
minister, was present when he received tidings of the storming of
Anagni, and bears witness to the composure with which he went through
the official business of the morning, as if nothing had happened.[148]
This was in public; but the shock was sufficiently strong to strike out
some sparkles of his fiery temper, as those found who met him that day
in private. To the Venetian agent who had come to Rome to mediate a
peace, and who had pressed him to enter into some terms of accommodation
with the Spaniards, he haughtily replied, that Alva must first recross
the frontier, and then, if he had aught to solicit, prefer his petition
like a dutiful son of the Church. This course was not one very likely to
be adopted by the victorious general[149]

In an interview with two French gentlemen, who, as he had reason to
suppose, were interesting themselves in the affair of a peace, he
exclaimed: "Whoever would bring me into a peace with heretics is a
servant of the Devil. Heaven will take vengeance on him. I will pray
that God's curse may fall on him. If I find that you intermeddle in any
such matter, I will cut your heads off your shoulders. Do not think this
an empty threat. I have an eye in my back on you,"--quoting an Italian
proverb,--"and if I find you playing me false, or attempting to entangle
me a second time in an accursed truce, I swear to you by the eternal
God, I will make your heads fly from your shoulders, come what may come
of it!" "In this way," concludes the narrator, one of the parties, "his
holiness continued for nearly an hour, walking up and down the
apartment, and talking all the while of his own grievances and of
cutting off our heads, until he had talked himself quite out of
breath."[150]

But the valor of the pope did not expend itself in words. He instantly
set about putting the capital in the best state of defence. He taxed the
people to raise funds for his troops, drew in the garrisons from the
neighboring places, formed a body-guard of six or seven hundred horse,
and soon had the satisfaction of seeing his Roman levies, amounting to
six thousand infantry, well equipped for the war. They made a brave
show, with their handsome uniforms and their banners richly emblazoned
with the pontifical arms. As they passed in review before his holiness,
who stood at one of the windows of his palace, he gave them his
benediction. But the edge of the Roman sword, according to an old
proverb, was apt to be blunt; and these holiday troops were soon found
to be no match for the hardy veterans of Spain.

Among the soldiers at the pope's disposal was a body of German
mercenaries, who followed war as a trade, and let themselves out to the
highest bidder. They were Lutherans, with little knowledge of the Roman
Catholic religion, and less respect for it. They stared at its rites as
mummeries, and made a jest of its most solemn ceremonies, directly under
the eyes of the pope. But Paul, who at other times would have punished
offences like these with the gibbet and the stake, could not quarrel
with his defenders, and was obliged to digest his mortification as he
best might. It was remarked that the times were sadly out of joint, when
the head of the Church had heretics for his allies and Catholics for his
enemies.[151]

Meanwhile the duke of Alva was lying at Tivoli. If he had taken
advantage of the panic caused by his successes, he might, it was
thought, without much difficulty, have made himself master of the
capital. But this did not suit his policy, which was rather to bring the
pope to terms than to ruin him. He was desirous to reduce the city by
cutting off its supplies. The possession of Tivoli, as already noticed,
enabled him to command the eastern approaches to Rome, and he now
proposed to make himself master of Ostia and thus destroy the
communications with the coast.

[Sidenote: VICTORIOUS CAMPAIGN.]

Accordingly, drawing together his forces, he quitted Tivoli, and
directed his march across the Campagna, south of the Roman capital. On
his way he made himself master of some places belonging to the holy see,
and in the early part of November arrived before Ostia, and took up a
position on the banks of the Tiber, where it spread into two branches,
the northern one of which was called the Fiumicino, or little river. The
town, or rather village, consisted of only a few straggling houses, very
different from the proud Ostia, whose capacious harbor was once filled
with the commerce of the world. It was protected by a citadel of some
strength, garrisoned by a small but picked body of troops, so
indifferently provided with military stores, that it was clear the
government had not anticipated an attack in this quarter.

The duke ordered a number of boats to be sent round from Nettuno, a
place on the coast, of which he had got possession. By means of these he
formed a bridge, over which he passed a small detachment of his army,
together with his battering train of artillery. The hamlet was easily
taken, but, as the citadel refused to surrender, Alva laid regular siege
to it. He constructed two batteries, on which he planted his heavy guns,
commanding opposite quarters of the fortress. He then opened a lively
cannonade on the outworks, which was returned with great spirit by the
garrison.

Meanwhile he detached a considerable body of horse, under Colonna, who
swept the country to the very walls of Rome. A squadron of cavalry,
whose gallant bearing had filled the heart of the old pope with
exultation, sallied out against the marauders. An encounter took place
not far from the city. The Romans bore themselves up bravely to the
shock; but, after splintering their lances, they wheeled about, and,
without striking another blow, abandoned the field to the enemy, who
followed them up to the gates of the capital. They were so roughly
handled in their flight, that the valiant troopers could not be induced
again to leave their walls, although Cardinal Caraffa--who had a narrow
escape from the enemy--sallied out with a handful of his followers, to
give them confidence.[152]

During this time Alva was vigorously pressing the siege of Ostia; but
though more than a week had elapsed, the besieged showed no disposition
to surrender. At length, the Spanish commander, on the seventeenth of
November, finding his ammunition nearly expended and his army short of
provisions, determined on a general assault. Early on the following
morning, after hearing mass as usual, the duke mounted his horse, and,
riding among the ranks to animate the spirits of his soldiers, gave
orders for the attack. A corps of Italians was first detached, to scale
the works; but they were repulsed with considerable loss. It was found
impossible for their officers to rally them, and bring them back to the
assault. A picked body of Spanish infantry was then despatched on this
dangerous service. With incredible difficulty they succeeded in scaling
the ramparts, under a storm of combustibles and other missiles hurled
down by the garrison, and effected an entrance into the place. But here
they were met with a courage as dauntless as their own. The struggle was
long and desperate. There had been no such fighting in the course of the
campaign. At length, the duke, made aware of the severe loss sustained
by his men, and of the impracticability of the attempt, as darkness was
setting in, gave the signal for retreat. The assailants had doubtless
the worst of it in the conflict; but the besieged, worn out with
fatigue, with their ammunition nearly exhausted, and almost without
food, did not feel themselves in condition to sustain another assault on
the following day. On the nineteenth of November, therefore, the morning
after the conflict, the brave garrison capitulated, and were treated
with honor as prisoners of war.[153]

The fate of the campaign seemed now to be decided. The pope, with, his
principal towns in the hands of the enemy, his communications cut off
both with the country and the coast, may well have felt his inability to
contend thus single-handed against the power of Spain. At all events,
his subjects felt it, and they were not deterred by his arrogant bearing
from clamoring loudly against the continuance of this ruinous war. But
Paul would not hear of a peace. However crippled by his late reverses,
he felt confident of repairing them all on the arrival of the French,
who, as he now learned with joy, were in full march across the territory
of Milan. He was not so disinclined to a truce, which might give time
for their coming.

Cardinal Caraffa, accordingly, had a conference with the duke of Alva,
and entered into negotiations with him for a suspension of arms. The
proposal was not unwelcome to the duke, who, weakened by losses of every
kind, was by no means in condition at the end of an active campaign to
contend with a fresh army under the command of so practised a leader as
the duke of Guise. He did not care to expose himself a second time to an
encounter with the French general, under disadvantages nearly as great
as those which had foiled him at Metz.

With these amiable dispositions, a truce was soon arranged between the
parties, to continue forty days. The terms were honorable to Alva, since
they left him in possession of all his conquests. Having completed these
arrangements, the Spanish commander broke up his camp on the southern
bank of the Tiber, recrossed the frontier, and in a few days made his
triumphant entry, at the head of his battalions, into the city of
Naples.[154]

So ended the first campaign of the war with Rome. It had given a severe
lesson, that might have shaken the confidence and humbled the pride of a
pontiff less arrogant than Paul the Fourth. But it served only to deepen
his hatred of the Spaniards, and to stimulate his desire for vengeance.

[Sidenote: GUISE ENTERS ITALY]




CHAPTER VI.

WAR WITH THE POPE.

Guise enters Italy.--Operations in the Abruzzi.--Siege of
Civitella.--Alva drives out the French.--Rome menaced by the
Spaniards.--Paul consents to Peace.--Paul's subsequent Career.

1557.


While the events recorded in the preceding pages were passing in Italy,
the French army, under the duke of Guise, had arrived on the borders of
Piedmont. That commander, on leaving Paris, found himself at the head of
a force consisting of twelve thousand infantry, of which five thousand
were Swiss, and the rest French, including a considerable number of
Gascons. His cavalry amounted to two thousand, and he was provided with
twelve pieces of artillery. In addition to this, Guise was attended by a
gallant body of French gentlemen, young for the most part, and eager to
win laurels under the renowned defender of Metz.

The French army met with no opposition in its passage through Piedmont.
The king of Spain had ordered the government of Milan to strengthen the
garrisons of the fortresses, but to oppose no resistance to the French,
unless the latter began hostilities.[155] Some of the duke's counsellors
would have persuaded him to do so. His father-in-law, the duke of
Ferrara, in particular, who had brought him a reinforcement of six
thousand troops, strongly pressed the French general to make sure of the
Milanese before penetrating to the south; otherwise he would leave a
dangerous enemy in his rear. The Italian urged, moreover, the importance
of such a step in giving confidence to the Angevine faction in Naples,
and in drawing over to France those states which hesitated as to their
policy, or which had but lately consented to an alliance with Spain.

France, at this time, exercised but little influence in the counsels of
the Italian powers. Genoa, after an ineffectual attempt at revolution,
was devoted to Spain. The coöperation of Cosmo de'Medici, then lord of
Tuscany, had been secured by the cession of Sienna. The duke of Parma,
who had coquetted for some time with the French monarch, was won over to
Spain by the restoration of Placentia, of which he had been despoiled by
Charles the Fifth. His young son, Alexander Farnese, was sent as a
hostage, to be educated under Philip's eye, at the court of Madrid,--the
fruits of which training were to be gathered in the war of the
Netherlands, where he proved himself the most consummate captain of his
time. Venice, from her lonely watch-tower on the Adriatic, regarded at a
distance the political changes of Italy, prepared to profit by any
chances in her own favor. Her conservative policy, however, prompted her
to maintain things as far as possible in their present position. She was
most desirous that the existing equilibrium should not be disturbed by
the introduction of any new power on the theatre of Italy; and she had
readily acquiesced in the invitation of the duke of Alva, to mediate an
accommodation between the contending parties. This pacific temper found
little encouragement from the belligerent pontiff who had brought the
war upon Italy.

The advice of the duke of Ferrara, however judicious in itself, was not
relished by his son-in-law, the duke of Guise, who was anxious to press
forward to Naples as the proper scene of his conquests. The pope, too,
called on him, in the most peremptory terms, to hasten his march, as
Naples was the object of the expedition. The French commander had the
address to obtain instructions to the same effect from his own court, by
which he affected to be decided. His Italian father-in-law was so much
disgusted by this determination, that he instantly quitted the camp, and
drew off his six thousand soldiers, declaring that he needed all he
could muster to protect his own states against the troops of Milan.[156]

Thus shorn of his Italian reinforcement, the duke of Guise resumed his
march, and, entering the States of the Church, followed down the shores
of the Adriatic, passing through Ravenna and Rimini; then, striking into
the interior, he halted at Gesi, where he found good accommodations for
his men and abundant forage for the horses.

Leaving his army in their pleasant quarters, he soon after repaired to
Rome, in order to arrange with the pope the plan of the campaign. He was
graciously received by Paul, who treated him with distinguished honor as
the loyal champion of the Church. Emboldened by the presence of the
French army in his dominions, the pope no longer hesitated to proclaim
the renewal of the war against Spain. The Roman levies, scattered over
the Campagna, assaulted the places but feebly garrisoned by the
Spaniards. Most of them, including Tivoli and Ostia, were retaken; and
the haughty bosom of the pontiff swelled with exultation as he
anticipated the speedy extinction of the Spanish rule in Italy.

After some days consumed in the Vatican, Guise rejoined his army at
Gesi. He was fortified by abundant assurances of aid from his holiness,
and he was soon joined by one of Paul's nephews, the duke of Montebello,
with a slender reinforcement. It was determined to cross the Neapolitan
frontier at once, and to begin operations by the siege of Campli.

This was a considerable place, situated in the midst of a fruitful
territory. The native population had been greatly increased by the
influx of people from the surrounding country, who had taken refuge in
Campli as a place of security. But they did little for its defence. It
did not long resist the impetuosity of the French, who carried the town
by storm. The men--all who made resistance--were put to the sword. The
women were abandoned to the licentious soldiery. The houses, first
pillaged, were then fired; and the once flourishing place was soon
converted into a heap of smouldering ruins. The booty was great, for the
people of the neighborhood had brought their effects thither for safety,
and a large amount of gold and silver was found in the dwellings. The
cellars, too, were filled with delicate wines; and the victors abandoned
themselves to feasting and wassail, while the wretched citizens wandered
like spectres amidst the ruins of their ancient habitations.[157]

[Sidenote: SIEGE OF CIVITELLA.]

The fate of Italy, in the sixteenth century, was hard indeed. She had
advanced far beyond the age in most of the arts which belong to a
civilized community. Her cities, even her smaller towns, throughout the
country, displayed the evidences of architectural taste. They were
filled with stately temples and elegant mansions; the squares were
ornamented with fountains of elaborate workmanship; the rivers were
spanned by arches of solid masonry. The private as well as public
edifices were furnished with costly works of art, of which the value was
less in the material than in the execution. A generation had scarcely
passed since Michael Angelo and Raphael had produced their miracles of
sculpture and of painting; and now Correggio, Paul Veronese, and Titian
were filling their country with those immortal productions which have
been the delight and the despair of succeeding ages. Letters kept pace
with art. The magical strains of Ariosto had scarcely died away when a
greater bard had arisen in Tasso, to take up the tale of Christian
chivalry. This extraordinary combination of elegant art and literary
culture was the more remarkable, from the contrast presented by the
condition of the rest of Europe, then first rising into the light of a
higher civilization. But, with all this intellectual progress, Italy was
sadly deficient in some qualities found among the hardier sons of the
north, and which seem indispensable to a national existence. She could
boast of her artists, her poets, her politicians; but of few real
patriots, few who rested their own hopes on the independence of their
country. The freedom of the old Italian republics had passed away. There
was scarcely one that had not surrendered its liberties to a master. The
principle of union for defence against foreign aggression was as little
understood as the principle of political liberty at home. The states
were jealous of one another. The cities were jealous of one another, and
were often torn by factions within themselves. Thus their individual
strength was alike ineffectual, whether for self-government or
self-defence. The gift of beauty which Italy possessed in so
extraordinary a degree only made her a more tempting prize to the
spoiler, whom she had not the strength or the courage to resist. The
Turkish corsair fell upon her coasts, plundered her maritime towns, and
swept off their inhabitants into slavery. The Europeans, scarcely less
barbarous, crossed the Alps, and, striking into the interior, fell upon
the towns and hamlets that lay sheltered among the hills and in the
quiet valleys, and converted them into heaps of ruins. Ill fares it with
the land which, in an age of violence, has given itself up to the study
of the graceful and the beautiful, to the neglect of those hardy virtues
which can alone secure a nation's independence.

From the smoking ruins of Campli, Guise led his troops against
Civitella, a town but a few miles distant. It was built round a conical
hill, the top of which was crowned by a fortress well lined with
artillery. It was an important place for the command of the frontier,
and the duke of Alva had thrown into it a garrison of twelve hundred men
under the direction of an experienced officer, the marquis of Santa
Fiore. The French general considered that the capture of this post, so
soon following the sack of Campli, would spread terror among the
Neapolitans, and encourage those of the Angevine faction to declare
openly in his favor.

As the place refused to surrender, he prepared to besiege it in form,
throwing up intrenchments, and only waiting for his heavy guns to begin
active hostilities. He impatiently expected their arrival for some days,
when he caused four batteries to be erected, to operate simultaneously
against four quarters of the town. After a brisk cannonade, which was
returned by the besieged with equal spirit, and with still greater loss
to the enemy, from his exposed position, the duke, who had opened a
breach in the works, prepared for a general assault. It was conducted
with the usual impetuosity of the French, but was repulsed with courage
by the Italians. More than once the assailants were brought up to the
breach, and as often driven back with slaughter. The duke, convinced
that he had been too precipitate, was obliged to sound a retreat, and
again renewed the cannonade from his batteries, keeping it up night and
day, though, from the vertical direction of the fire, with comparatively
little effect. The French camp offered a surer mark to the guns of
Civitella.

The women of the place displayed an intrepidity equal to that of the
men. Armed with buckler and cuirass, they might be seen by the side of
their husbands and brothers, in the most exposed situations on the
ramparts; and, as one was shot down, another stepped forward to take
the place of her fallen comrade.[158] The fate of Campli had taught them
to expect no mercy from the victor, and they preferred death to
dishonor.

As day after day passed on in the same monotonous manner, Guise's troops
became weary of their inactive life. The mercurial spirits of the French
soldier, which overleaped every obstacle in his path, were often found
to evaporate in the tedium of protracted operations, where there was
neither incident nor excitement. Such a state of things was better
suited to the patient and persevering Spaniard. The men began openly to
murmur against the pope, whom they regarded as the cause of their
troubles. They were led by priests, they said, "who knew much more of
praying than of fighting."[159]

Guise himself had causes of disgust with the pontiff which he did not
care to conceal. For all the splendid promises of his holiness, he had
received few supplies either of men, ammunition, or money; and of the
Angevine lords not one had ventured to declare in his favor or to take
service under his banner. He urged all this with much warmth on the
pope's nephew, the duke of Montebello. The Italian, recriminated as
warmly, till the dialogue was abruptly ended, it is said, by the duke of
Guise throwing a napkin, or, according to some accounts, a dish, at the
head of his ally.[160] However this may be, Montebello left the camp in
disgust and returned to Rome. But the defender of the Church was too
important a person to quarrel with, and Paul deemed it prudent, for the
present, at least, to stifle his resentment.

Meanwhile heavy rains set in, causing great annoyance to the French
troops in their quarters, spoiling their provisions, and doing great
damage to their powder. The same rain did good service to the besieged,
by filling their cisterns. "God," exclaimed the profane Guise, "must
have turned Spaniard."[161]

While these events were taking place in the north of Naples, the duke of
Alva, in the south, was making active preparations for the defence of
the kingdom. He had seen with satisfaction the time consumed by his
antagonist, first at Gesi, and afterwards at the siege of Civitella; and
he had fully profited by the delay. On reaching the city of Naples, he
had summoned a parliament of the great barons, had clearly exposed the
necessities of the state, and demanded an extraordinary loan of two
millions of ducats. The loyal nobles readily responded to the call; but
as not more than one third of the whole amount could be instantly
raised, an order was obtained from the council, requiring the governors
of the several provinces to invite the great ecclesiastics in their
districts to advance the remaining two thirds of the loan. In case they
did not consent with a good grace, they were to be forced to comply by
the seizure of their revenues.[162]

By another decree of the council, the gold and silver plate belonging to
the monasteries and churches, throughout the kingdom, after being
valued, was to be taken for the use of the government. A quantity of it,
belonging to a city in the Abruzzi, was in fact put up to be sent to
Naples; but it caused such a tumult among the people, that it was found
expedient to suspend proceedings in the matter for the present.

[Sidenote: SIEGE OF CIVITELLA.]

The viceroy still further enlarged his resources by the sequestration of
the revenues belonging to such ecclesiastics as resided in Rome. By
these various expedients the duke of Alva found himself in possession of
sufficient funds, for carrying on the war as he desired. He mustered a
force of twenty-two, or, as some accounts state, twenty-five thousand
men. Of these three thousand only were Spanish veterans, five thousand
were Germans, and the remainder Italians, chiefly from the Abruzzi,--for
the most part raw recruits, on whom little reliance was to be placed. He
had besides seven hundred men-at-arms and fifteen hundred light horse.
His army, therefore, though, as far as the Italians were concerned,
inferior in discipline to that of his antagonist, was greatly superior
in numbers.[163]

In a council of war that was called, some were of opinion that the
viceroy should act on the defensive, and await the approach of the enemy
in the neighborhood of the capital. But Alva looked on this as a timid
course, arguing distrust in himself, and likely to infuse distrust into
his followers. He determined to march at once against the enemy, and
prevent his gaining a permanent foothold in the kingdom.

Pescara, on the Adriatic, was appointed as the place of rendezvous for
the army, and Alva quitted the city of Naples for that place on the
eleventh of April, 1557. Here he concentrated his whole strength, and
received his artillery and military stores, which were brought to him by
water. Having reviewed his troops, he began his march to the north. On
reaching Rio Umano, he detached a strong body of troops to get
possession of Giulia Nuova, a town of some importance lately seized by
the enemy. Alva supposed, and it seems correctly, that the French
commander had secured this as a good place of retreat in case of his
failure before Civitella, since its position was such as would enable
him readily to keep up his communications with the sea. The French
garrison sallied out against the Spaniards, but were driven back with
loss; and, as Alva's troops followed in their rear, the enemy fled in
confusion through the streets of the city, and left it in the hands of
the victors. In this commodious position, the viceroy for the present
took up his quarters.

On the approach of the Spanish army, the duke of Guise saw the necessity
of bringing his operations against Civitella to a decisive issue. He
accordingly, as a last effort, prepared for a general assault. But,
although it was conducted with great spirit, it was repulsed with still
greater by the garrison; and the French commander, deeply mortified at
his repeated failures, saw the necessity of abandoning the siege. He
could not effect even this without sustaining some loss from the brave
defenders of Civitella, who sallied out on his rear, as he drew off his
discomfited troops to the neighboring valley of Nireto. Thus ended the
siege of Civitella, which, by the confidence it gave to the loyal
Neapolitans throughout the country as well as by the leisure it afforded
to Alva for mustering his resources, may be said to have decided the
fate of the war. The siege lasted twenty-two days, during fourteen of
which the guns from the four batteries of the French had played
incessantly on the beleaguered city. The viceroy was filled with
admiration at the heroic conduct of the inhabitants; and, in token of
respect for it, granted some important immunities, to be enjoyed for
ever by the citizens of Civitella. The women, too, came in for their
share of the honors, as whoever married a maiden of Civitella was to be
allowed the same immunities, from whatever part of the country he might
come.[164]

The two armies were now quartered within a few miles of each other. Yet
no demonstration was made, on either side, of bringing matters to the
issue of a battle. This was foreign to Alva's policy, and was not to be
expected from Guise, so inferior in strength to his antagonist. On the
viceroy's quitting Giulia Nuova, however, to occupy a position somewhat
nearer the French quarters, Guise did not deem it prudent to remain
there any longer, but, breaking up his camp, retreated, with his whole
army, across the Tronto, and, without further delay, evacuated the
kingdom of Naples.

The Spanish general made no attempt to pursue, or even to molest his
adversary in his retreat. For this he has been severely criticized, more
particularly as the passage of a river offers many points of advantage
to an assailant. But, in truth, Alva never resorted to fighting when he
could gain his end without it. In an appeal to arms, however favorable
may be the odds, there must always be some doubt as to the result. But
the odds here were not so decisively on the side of the Spaniards as
they appeared. The duke of Guise carried off his battalions in admirable
order, protecting his rear with the flower of his infantry and with his
cavalry, in which last he was much superior to his enemy. Thus the parts
of the hostile armies likely to have been brought into immediate
conflict would have afforded no certain assurance of success to the
Spaniards. Alva's object had been, not so much to defeat the French as
to defend Naples. This he had now achieved, with but little loss; and
rather than incur the risk of greater, he was willing, in the words of
an old proverb, to make a bridge of silver for the flying foe.[165] In
the words of Alva himself, "he had no idea of staking the kingdom of
Naples against the embroidered coat of the duke of Guise."[166]

On the retreat of the French, Alva laid siege at once to two or three
places, of no great note, in the capture of which he and his lieutenants
were guilty of the most deliberate cruelty; though, in the judgment of
the chronicler, it was not cruelty, but a wholesome severity, designed
as a warning to such petty places not to defy the royal authority.[167]
Soon after this, Alva himself crossed the Tronto, and took up a position
not far removed from the French, who lay in the neighborhood of Ascoli.
Although the two armies were but a few miles asunder, there was no
attempt at hostilities, with the exception of a skirmish in which but a
small number on either side were engaged, and which terminated in favor
of the Spaniards. This state of things was at length ended by a summons
from the pope to the French commander to draw nearer to Rome, as he
needed his presence for the protection of the capital. The duke, glad,
no doubt, of so honorable an apology for his retreat, and satisfied with
having so long held his ground against a force superior to his own, fell
back, in good order, upon Tivoli, which, as it commanded the great
avenues to Rome on the east, and afforded good accommodations for his
troops, he made his head quarters for the present. The manner in which
the duke of Alva adhered to the plan of defensive operations settled at
the beginning of the campaign, and that, too, under circumstances which
would have tempted most men to depart from such a plan, is a remarkable
proof of his perseverance and inflexible spirit. It proves, moreover,
the empire which he held over the minds of his followers, that, under
such circumstances, he could maintain implicit obedience to his orders.

[Sidenote: ROME MENACED BY THE SPANIARDS.]

The cause of the pope's alarm was the rapid successes of Alva's
confederate, Mark Antony Colonna, who had defeated the papal levies,
and taken one place after another in the Campagna, till the Romans began
to tremble for their capital. Colonna was now occupied with the siege of
Segni, a place of considerable importance; and the duke of Alva,
relieved of the presence of the French, resolved to march to his
support. He accordingly recrossed the Tronto, and, passing through the
Neapolitan territory, halted for some days at Sora. He then traversed
the frontier, but had not penetrated far into the Campagna when he
received tidings of the fall of Segni. That strong place, after a
gallant defence, had been taken by storm. All the usual atrocities were
perpetrated by the brutal soldiery. Even the sanctity of the convents
did not save them from pollution. It was in vain that Colonna interfered
to prevent these excesses. The voice of authority was little heeded in
the tempest of passion.--It mattered little, in that age, into whose
hands a captured city fell; Germans, French, Italians, it was all the
same. The wretched town, so lately flourishing, it might be, in all the
pride of luxury and wealth, was claimed as the fair spoil of the
victors. It was their prize-money, which served in default of payment of
their long arrears,--usually long in those days; and it was a mode of
payment as convenient for the general as for his soldiers.[168]

The fall of Segni caused the greatest consternation in the capital. The
next thing, it was said, would be to assault the capital itself. Paul
the Fourth, incapable of fear, was filled with impotent fury. "They have
taken Segni," he said in a conclave of the cardinals; "they have
murdered the people, destroyed their property, fired their dwellings.
Worse than this, they will next pillage Palliano. Even this will not
fill up the measure of their cruelty. They will sack the city of Rome
itself; nor will they respect even my person. But, for myself, I long to
be with Christ, and await without fear the crown of martyrdom."[169]
Paul the Fourth, after having brought this tempest upon Italy, began to
consider himself a martyr!

Yet even in this extremity, though urged on all sides to make
concessions, he would abate nothing of his haughty tone. He insisted, as
a _sine qua non_, that Alva should forthwith leave the Roman territory
and restore his conquests. When these conditions were reported to the
duke, he coolly remarked, that "his holiness seemed to be under the
mistake of supposing that his own army was before Naples, instead of the
Spanish army being at the gates of Rome."[170]

After the surrender of Segni, Alva effected a junction with the Italian
forces, and marched to the town of Colona, in the Campagna, where for
the present he quartered his army. Here he formed the plan of an
enterprise, the adventurous character of which it seems difficult to
reconcile with his habitual caution. This was a night assault on Rome.
He did not communicate his whole purpose to his officers, but simply
ordered them to prepare to march on the following night, the
twenty-sixth of August, against a neighboring city, the name of which he
did not disclose. It was a wealthy place, he said, but he was most
anxious that no violence should be offered to the inhabitants, in either
their persons or property. The soldiers should be forbidden even to
enter the dwellings; but he promised that the loss of booty should be
compensated by increase of pay. The men were to go lightly armed,
without baggage, and with their shirts over their mail, affording the
best means of recognizing one another in the dark.

The night was obscure, but unfortunately a driving storm of rain set in,
which did such damage to the roads as greatly to impede the march, and
the dawn was nigh at hand when the troops reached the place of
destination. To their great surprise, they then understood that the
object of attack was Rome itself.

Alva halted at a short distance from the city, in a meadow, and sent
forward a small party to reconnoitre the capital, which seemed to
slumber in quiet. But, on a nearer approach, the Spaniards saw a great
light, as if occasioned by a multitude of torches, that seemed glancing
to and fro within the walls, inferring some great stir among the
inhabitants of that quarter. Soon after this, a few horsemen were seen
to issue from one of the gates, and ride off in the direction of the
French camp at Tivoli. The duke, on receiving the report, was satisfied
that the Romans had, in some way or other, got notice of his design;
that the horsemen had gone to give the alarm to the French in Tivoli;
and that he should soon find himself between two enemies. Not relishing
this critical position, he at once abandoned his design, and made a
rapid countermarch on the place he had left the preceding evening.

In his conjectures the duke was partly in the right and partly in the
wrong. The lights which were seen glancing within the town were owing to
the watchfulness of Caraffa, who, from some apprehensions of an attack,
in consequence of information he had received of preparations in the
Spanish camp, was patrolling this quarter before daybreak to see that
all was safe; but the horsemen who left the gates at that early hour in
the direction of the French camp were far from thinking that hostile
battalions lay within gunshot of their walls.[171]

Such is the account we have of this strange affair. Some historians
assert that it was not the duke's design to attack Rome, but only to
make a feint, and, by the panic which he would create, to afford the
pope a good pretext for terminating the war. In support of this, it is
said that he told his son Ferdinand, just before his departure, that he
feared it would be impossible to prevent the troops from sacking the
city, if they once set foot in it.[172] Other accounts state that it was
no feint, but a surprise meditated in good earnest, and defeated only by
the apparition of the lights and the seeming state of preparation in
which the place was found. Indeed, one writer asserts that he saw the
scaling-ladders, brought by a corps of two hundred arquebusiers, who
were appointed to the service of mounting the walls.[173]

The Venetian minister, Navagero, assures us that Alva's avowed purpose
was to secure the person of his holiness, which, he thought, must bring
the war at once to a close. The duke's uncle, the cardinal of
Sangiacomo, had warned his nephew, according to the same authority, not
to incur the fate of their countrymen who had served under the Constable
de Bourbon, at the sack of Rome, all of whom, sooner or later, had come
to a miserable end.[174]

[Sidenote: ROME MENACED BY THE SPANIARDS.]

This warning may have made some impression on the mind of Alva, who,
however inflexible by nature, had conscientious scruples of his own, and
was, no doubt, accessible, as others of his time, to arguments founded
on superstition.

We cannot but admit that the whole affair,--the preparations for the
assault, the counsel to the officers, and the sudden retreat on
suspicion of a discovery,--all look very much like earnest. It is quite
possible that the duke, as the Venetian asserts, may have intended
nothing beyond the seizure of the pope. But that the matter would have
stopped there, no one will believe. Once fairly within the walls, even
the authority of Alva would have been impotent to restrain the licence
of the soldiery; and the same scenes might have been acted over again as
at the taking of Rome under the Constable de Bourbon, or on the capture
of the ancient capital by the Goths.

When the Romans, on the following morning, learned the peril they had
been in during the night, and that the enemy had been prowling round,
like wolves about a sheepfold, ready to rush in upon their sleeping
victims, the whole city was seized with a panic. All the horrors of the
sack by the Constable de Bourbon rose up to their imaginations,--or
rather memories, for many there were who were old enough to remember
that terrible day. They loudly clamored for peace before it was too
late; and they pressed the demand in a manner which showed that the mood
of the people was a dangerous one. Strozzi, the most distinguished of
the Italian captains, plainly told the pope that he had no choice but to
come to terms with the enemy at once.[175]

Paul was made more sensible of this by finding now, in his greatest
need, the very arm withdrawn from him on which he most leaned for
support. Tidings had reached the French camp of the decisive victory
gained by the Spaniards at St. Quentin, and they were followed by a
summons from the king to the duke of Guise, to return with his army, as
speedily as possible, for the protection of Paris. The duke, who was
probably not unwilling to close a campaign which had been so barren of
laurels to the French, declared that "no chains were strong enough to
keep him in Italy." He at once repaired to the Vatican, and there laid
before his holiness the commands of his master. The case was so
pressing, that Paul could not in reason oppose the duke's departure. But
he seldom took counsel of reason, and in a burst of passion exclaimed to
Guise, "Go, then; and take with you the consciousness of having done
little for your king, still less for the Church, and nothing for your
own honor."[176]

Negotiations were now opened for an accommodation between the
belligerents, at the town of Cavi. Cardinal Caraffa appeared in behalf
of his uncle, the pope, and the duke of Alva for the Spaniards. Through
the mediation of Venice, the terms of the treaty were finally settled,
on the fourteenth of September, although the inflexible pontiff still
insisted on concessions nearly as extravagant as those he had demanded
before. It was stipulated in a preliminary article, that the duke of
Alva should publicly ask pardon, and receive absolution, for having
borne arms against the holy see. "Sooner than surrender this point,"
said Paul, "I would see the whole world perish; and this, not so much
for my own sake as for the honor of Jesus Christ."[177]

It was provided by the treaty, that the Spanish troops should be
immediately withdrawn from the territory of the Church, that all the
places taken from the Church should be at once restored, and that the
French army should be allowed a free passage to their own country.
Philip did not take so good care of his allies as Paul did of his.
Colonna, who had done the cause such good service, was not even
reinstated in the possessions of which the pope had deprived him. But a
secret article provided that his claims should be determined hereafter
by the joint arbitration of the pontiff and the king of Spain.[178]

The treaty was, in truth, one which, as Alva bitterly remarked, "seemed
to have been dictated by the vanquished rather than by the victor." It
came hard to the duke to execute it, especially the clause relating to
himself. "Were I the king," said he haughtily, "his holiness should send
one of his nephews to Brussels, to sue for my pardon, instead of my
general's suing for his."[179] But Alva had no power to consult his own
will in the matter. The orders from Philip were peremptory, to come to
some terms, if possible, with the pope. Philip had long since made up
his own mind, that neither profit nor honor was to be derived from a war
with the Church,--a war not only repugnant to his own feelings, but
which placed him in a false position, and one most prejudicial to his
political interests.

The news of peace filled the Romans with a joy great in proportion to
their former consternation. Nor was this joy much diminished by a
calamity which at any other time would have thrown the city into
mourning. The Tiber, swollen by the autumnal rains, rose above its
banks, sweeping away houses and trees in its fury, drowning men and
cattle, and breaking down a large piece of the wall that surrounded the
city. It was well that this accident had not occurred a few days
earlier, when the enemy was at the gates.[180]

On the twenty-seventh of September, 1557, the duke of Alva made his
public entrance into Rome. He was escorted by the papal guard, dressed
in its gay uniform. It was joined by the other troops in the city, who,
on this holiday service, did as well as better soldiers. On entering the
gates, the concourse was swelled by thousands of citizens, who made the
air ring with their acclamations, as they saluted the Spanish general
with the titles of Defender and Liberator of the capital. The epithets
might be thought an indifferent compliment to their own government. In
this state the procession moved along, like the triumph of a conqueror
returned from his victorious campaigns to receive the wreath of laurel
in the capitol.

On reaching the Vatican, the Spanish commander fell on his knees before
the pope, and asked his pardon for the offence of bearing arms against
the Church. Paul, soothed by this show of concession, readily granted
absolution. He paid the duke the distinguished honor of giving him a
seat at his own table; while he complimented the duchess by sending her
the consecrated golden rose, reserved only for royal persons and
illustrious champions of the Church.[181]

[Sidenote: PAUL CONSENTS TO PEACE.]

Yet the haughty spirit of Alva saw in all this more of humiliation than
of triumph. His conscience, like that of his master, was greatly
relieved by being discharged from the responsibilities of such a war.
But he had also a military conscience, which seemed to be quite as much
scandalized by the conditions of the peace. He longed to be once more at
Naples, where the state of things imperatively required his presence.
When he returned there, he found abundant occupation in reforming the
abuses which had grown out of the late confusion, and especially in
restoring, as far as possible, the shattered condition of the
finances,--a task hardly less difficult than that of driving out the
French from Naples.[182]

Thus ended the war with Paul the Fourth,--a war into which that pontiff
had plunged without preparation, which he had conducted without
judgment, and terminated without honor. Indeed, it brought little honor
to any of the parties concerned in it, but, on the other hand, a full
measure of those calamities which always follow in the train of war.

The French met with the same fate which uniformly befell them, when,
lured by the phantom of military glory, they crossed the Alps to lay
waste the garden of Italy,--in the words of their own proverb, "the
grave of the French." The duke of Guise, after a vexatious campaign, in
which it was his greatest glory that he had sustained no actual defeat,
thought himself fortunate in being allowed a free passage, with the
shattered remnant of his troops, back to his own country. Naples,
besides the injuries she had sustained on her borders, was burdened with
a debt which continued to press heavily for generations to come. Nor
were her troubles ended by the peace. In the spring of the following
year, 1558, a Turkish squadron appeared off Calabria; and, running down
the coast, the Moslems made a landing on several points, sacked some of
the principal towns, butchered the inhabitants, or swept them off into
hopeless slavery.[183] Such were some of the blessed fruits of the
alliance between the grand seignior and the head of the Catholic Church.
Solyman had come into the league at the invitation of the Christian
princes. But it was not found so easy to lay the spirit of mischief as
it had been to raise it.

The weight of the war, however, fell, as was just, most heavily on the
author of it. Paul, from his palace of the Vatican, could trace the
march of the enemy by the smoking ruins of the Campagna. He saw his
towns sacked, his troops scattered, his very capital menaced, his
subjects driven by ruinous taxes to the verge of rebellion. Even peace,
when it did come, secured to him none of the objects for which he had
contended, while he had the humiliating consciousness that he owed this
peace, not to his own arms, but to the forbearance--or the superstition
of his enemies. One lesson he might have learned,--that the thunders of
the Vatican could no longer strike terror into the hearts of princes, as
in the days of the Crusades.

In this war Paul had called in the French to aid him in driving out the
Spaniards. The French, he said, might easily be dislodged hereafter;
"but the Spaniards were like dog-grass, which is sure to strike root
wherever it is cast."--This was the last great effort that was made to
overturn the Spanish power in Naples; and the sceptre of that kingdom
continued to be transmitted in the dynasty of Castile, with as little
opposition as that of any other portion of its broad empire.

Being thus relieved of his military labors, Paul set about those great
reforms, the expectation of which had been the chief inducement to his
election. But first he gave a singular proof of self-command, in the
reforms which he introduced into his own family. Previously to his
election, no one, as we have seen, had declaimed more loudly than Paul
against nepotism,--the besetting sin of his predecessors, who, most of
them old men and without children, naturally sought a substitute for
these in their nephews and those nearest of kin. Paul's partiality for
his nephews was made the more conspicuous by the profligacy of their
characters. Yet the real bond which held the parties together was hatred
of the Spaniards. When peace came, and this bond of union was dissolved,
Paul readily opened his ears to the accusations against his kinsmen.
Convinced at length of their unworthiness, and of the flagrant manner in
which they had abused his confidence, he deprived the Caraffas of all
their offices, and banished them to the farthest part of his dominions.
By the sterner sentence of his successor, two of the brothers, the duke
and the cardinal, perished by the hand of the public executioner.[184]

After giving this proof of mastery over his own feelings, Paul addressed
himself to those reforms which had engaged his attention in early life.
He tried to enforce a stricter discipline and greater regard for morals,
both in the religious orders and the secular clergy. Above all, he
directed his efforts against the Protestant heresy, which had begun to
show itself in the head of Christendom, as it had long since done in the
extremities. The course he adopted was perfectly characteristic.
Scorning the milder methods of argument and persuasion, he resorted
wholly to persecution. The Inquisition, he declared, was the true
battery with which to assail the defences of the heretic. He suited the
action so well to the word, that in a short time the prisons of the Holy
Office were filled with the accused. In the general distrust no one felt
himself safe; and a panic was created, scarcely less than that felt by
the inhabitants when the Spaniards were at their gates.

Happily, their fears were dispelled by the death of Paul, which took
place suddenly, from a fever, on the eighteenth of August, 1559, in the
eighty-third year of his age, and fifth of his pontificate. Before the
breath was out of his body, the populace rose _en masse_, broke open the
prisons of the Inquisition, and liberated all who were confined there.
They next attacked the house of the grand-inquisitor, which they burned
to the ground; and that functionary narrowly escaped with his life. They
tore down the scutcheons, bearing the arms of the family of Caraffa,
which were affixed to the public edifices. They wasted their rage on the
senseless statue of the pope, which they overturned, and, breaking off
the head, rolled it, amidst the groans and execrations of the
by-standers, into the Tiber. Such was the fate of the reformer, who, in
his reforms, showed no touch of humanity, no sympathy with the
sufferings of his species.[185]

Yet, with all its defects, there is something in the character of Paul
the Fourth that may challenge our admiration. His project--renewing that
of Julius the Second--of driving out the _barbarians_ from Italy, was
nobly conceived, though impracticable. "Whatever others may feel, I at
least will have some care for my country," he once said to the Venetian
ambassador.

[Sidenote: ENGLAND JOINS THE WAR WITH FRANCE.]

"If my voice is unheeded, it will at least be a consolation to me to
reflect, that it has been raised in such a cause; and that it will one
day be said that an old Italian, on the verge of the grave, who might be
thought to have nothing better to do than to give himself up to repose,
and weep over his sins, had his soul filled with this lofty
design."[186]




CHAPTER VII.

WAR WITH FRANCE.

England joins in the War.--Philip's Preparations.--Siege of St.
Quentin.--French Army routed.--Storming of St. Quentin.--Successes of
the Spaniards.

1557.


While the events related in the preceding chapter were passing in Italy,
the war was waged on a larger scale, and with more important results, in
the northern provinces of France. As soon as Henry had broken the
treaty, and sent his army across the Alps, Philip lost no time in
assembling his troops, although in so quiet a manner as to attract as
little attention as possible. His preparations were such as enabled him,
not merely to defend the frontier of the Netherlands, but to carry the
war into the enemy's country.

He despatched his confidential minister, Ruy Gomez, to Spain, for
supplies both of men and money; instructing him to visit his father,
Charles the Fifth, and, after acquainting him with the state of affairs,
to solicit his aid in raising the necessary funds.[187]

Philip had it much at heart to bring England into the war. During his
stay in the Low Countries, he was in constant communication with the
English cabinet, and took a lively interest in the government of the
kingdom. The minutes of the privy council were regularly sent to him,
and as regularly returned with his remarks, in his own handwriting, on
the margin. In this way he discussed and freely criticized every measure
of importance; and, on one occasion, we find him requiring that nothing
of moment should be brought before parliament until it had first been
submitted to him.[188]

In March, 1557, Philip paid a second visit to England, where he was
received by his fond queen in the most tender and affectionate manner.
In her letters she had constantly importuned him to return to her. On
that barren eminence which placed her above the reach of friendship,
Mary was dependent on her husband for sympathy and support. But if the
channel of her affections was narrow, it was deep.

Philip found no difficulty in obtaining the queen's consent to his
wishes with respect to the war with France. She was induced to this, not
merely by her habitual deference to her husband, but by natural feelings
of resentment at the policy of Henry the Second. She had put up with
affronts, more than once, from the French ambassador, in her own court;
and her throne had been menaced by repeated conspiracies, which, if not
organized, had been secretly encouraged by France. Still, it was not
easy to bring the English nation to this way of thinking. It had been a
particular proviso of the marriage treaty, that England should not be
made a party to the war against France; and subsequent events had tended
to sharpen the feeling of jealousy rather towards the Spaniards than
towards the French.

The attempted insurrection of Stafford, who crossed over from the shores
of France at this time, did for Philip what possibly neither his own
arguments nor the authority of Mary could have done. It was the last of
the long series of indignities which had been heaped on the country from
the same quarter; and parliament now admitted that it was no longer
consistent with its honor to keep terms with a power which persisted in
fomenting conspiracies to overturn the government and plunge the nation
into civil war. On the seventh of June, a herald was despatched, with
the formality of ancient and somewhat obsolete usages, to proclaim war
against the French king in the presence of his court and in his capital.
This was done in such a bold tone of defiance, that the hot old
constable, Montmorency, whose mode of proceeding, as we have seen, was
apt to be summary, strongly urged his master to hang up the envoy on the
spot.[189]

The state of affairs imperatively demanded Philip's presence in the
Netherlands, and, after a residence of less than four months in London,
he bade a final adieu to his disconsolate queen, whose excessive
fondness may have been as little to his taste as the coldness of her
subjects.

Nothing could be more forlorn than the condition of Mary. Her health
wasting under a disease that cheated her with illusory hopes, which made
her ridiculous in the eyes of the world; her throne, her very life,
continually menaced by conspiracies, to some of which even her own
sister was supposed to be privy; her spirits affected by the
consciousness of the decline of her popularity under the gloomy system
of persecution into which she had been led by her ghostly advisers;
without friends, without children, almost it might be said without a
husband,--she was alone in the world, more to be commiserated than the
meanest subject in her dominions. She has had little commiseration,
however, from Protestant writers, who paint her in the odious colors of
a fanatic. This has been compensated, it may be thought, by the Roman
Catholic historians, who have invested the English queen with all the
glories of the saint and the martyr. Experience may convince us that
public acts do not always furnish a safe criterion of private
character,--especially when these acts are connected with religion. In
the Catholic Church the individual might seem to be relieved, in some
measure, of his moral responsibility, by the system of discipline which
intrusts his conscience to the keeping of his spiritual advisers. If the
lights of the present day allow no man to plead so humiliating an
apology, this was not the case in the first half of the sixteenth
century,--the age of Mary,--when the Reformation had not yet diffused
that spirit of independence in religious speculation, which, in some
degree at least, has now found its way to the darkest corner of
Christendom.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S PREPARATIONS.]

A larger examination of contemporary documents, especially of the
queen's own correspondence, justifies the inference, that, with all the
infirmities of a temper soured by disease, and by the difficulties of
her position, she possessed many of the good qualities of her
illustrious progenitors, Katharine of Aragon and Isabella of Castile;
the same conjugal tenderness and devotion, the same courage in times of
danger, the same earnest desire, misguided as she was, to do her
duty,--and, unfortunately, the same bigotry. It was, indeed, most
unfortunate, in Mary's case, as in that of the Catholic queen, that this
bigotry, from their position as independent sovereigns, should have been
attended with such fatal consequences as have left an indelible blot on
the history of their reigns.[190]

On his return to Brussels, Philip busied himself with preparations for
the campaign. He employed the remittances from Spain to subsidize a
large body of German mercenaries. Germany was the country which
furnished, at this time, more soldiers of fortune than any other; men
who served indifferently under the banner that would pay them best. They
were not exclusively made up of infantry, like the Swiss, but, besides
pikemen,--_lanzknechts_,--they maintained a stout array of cavalry,
_reiters_, as they were called,--"riders,"--who, together with the
cuirass and other defensive armor, carried pistols, probably of rude
workmanship, but which made them formidable from the weapon being little
known in that day. They were, indeed, the most dreaded troops of their
time. The men-at-arms, encumbered with their unwieldy lances, were drawn
up in line, and required an open plain to manœuvre to advantage, being
easily discomposed by obstacles; and once broken, they could hardly
rally. But the _reiters_, each with five or six pistols in his belt,
were formed into columns of considerable depth, the size of their
weapons allowing them to go through all the evolutions of light cavalry,
in which they were perfectly drilled. Philip's cavalry was further
strengthened by a fine corps of Burgundian lances, and by a great number
of nobles and cavaliers from Spain, who had come to gather laurels in
the fields of France, under the eye of their young sovereign. The flower
of his infantry, too, was drawn from Spain; men who, independently of
the indifference to danger, and wonderful endurance, which made the
Spanish soldier inferior to none of the time, were animated by that
loyalty to the cause which foreign mercenaries could not feel. In
addition to these, the king expected, and soon after received, a
reinforcement of eight thousand English under the earl of Pembroke. They
might well fight bravely on the soil where the arms of England had won
two of the most memorable victories in her history.

The whole force, exclusive of the English, amounted to thirty-five
thousand foot and twelve thousand horse, besides a good train of
battering artillery.[191] The command of this army was given to Emanuel
Philibert, prince of Piedmont, better known by his title of duke of
Savoy. No man had a larger stake in the contest, for he had been
stripped of his dominions by the French, and his recovery of them
depended on the issue of the war. He was at this time but twenty-nine
years of age; but he had had large experience in military affairs, and
had been intrusted by Charles the Fifth, who had early discerned his
capacity, with important commands. His whole life may be said to have
trained him for the profession of arms. He had no taste for effeminate
pleasures, but amused himself, in seasons of leisure, with the hardy
exercise of the chase. He strengthened his constitution, naturally not
very robust, by living as much as possible in the open air. Even when
conversing, or dictating to his secretaries, he preferred to do so
walking in his garden. He was indifferent to fatigue. After hunting all
day he would seem to require no rest, and in a campaign had been known,
like the knights-errant of old, to eat, drink, and sleep in his armor
for thirty days together.

He was temperate in his habits, eating little, and drinking water. He
was punctual in attention to business, was sparing of his words, and, as
one may gather from the piquant style of his letters, had a keen insight
into character, looking below the surface of men's actions into their
motives.[192]

His education had not been neglected. He spoke several languages
fluently, and, though not a great reader, was fond of histories. He was
much devoted to mathematical science, which served him in his
profession, and he was reputed an excellent engineer.[193] In person the
duke was of the middle size; well-made, except that he was somewhat
bow-legged. His complexion was fair, his hair light, and his deportment
very agreeable.

Such is the portrait of Emanuel Philibert, to whom Philip now intrusted
the command of his forces, and whose pretensions he warmly supported as
the suitor of Elizabeth of England. There was none more worthy of the
royal maiden. But the duke was a Catholic; and Elizabeth, moreover, had
seen the odium which her sister had incurred by her marriage with a
foreign sovereign. Philip, who would have used some constraint in the
matter, pressed it with such earnestness on the queen as proved how much
importance he attached to the connection. Mary's conduct on the occasion
was greatly to her credit; and, while she deprecated the displeasure of
her lord, she honestly told him that she could not in conscience do
violence to the inclinations of her sister.[194]

The plan of the campaign, as determined by Philip's cabinet,[195] was
that the duke should immediately besiege some one of the great towns on
the northern borders of Picardy, which in a manner commanded the
entrance into the Netherlands. Rocroy was the first selected. But the
garrison, who were well provided with ammunition, kept within their
defences, and maintained so lively a cannonade on the Spaniards, that
the duke, finding the siege was likely to consume more time than it was
worth, broke up his camp, and resolved to march against St. Quentin.
This was an old frontier town of Picardy, important in time of peace as
an _entrepôt_ for the trade that was carried on between France and the
Low Countries. It formed a convenient place of deposit, at the present
period, for such booty as marauding parties from time to time brought
back from Flanders. It was well protected by its natural situation, and
the fortifications had been originally strong; but, as in many of the
frontier towns, they had been of late years much neglected.

[Sidenote: SIEGE OF ST. QUENTIN.]

Before beginning operations against St. Quentin, the duke of Savoy, in
order to throw the enemy off his guard, and prevent his introducing
supplies into the town, presented himself before Guise, and made a show
of laying siege to that place. After this demonstration he resumed his
march, and suddenly sat down before St. Quentin, investing it with his
whole army.

Meanwhile the French had been anxiously watching the movements of their
adversary. Their forces were assembled on several points in Picardy and
Champagne. The principal corps was under the command of the duke of
Nevers, governor of the latter province, a nobleman of distinguished
gallantry, and who had seen some active service. He now joined his
forces to those under Montmorency, the constable of France, who occupied
a central position in Picardy, and who now took the command, for which
his rash and impetuous temper but indifferently qualified him. As soon
as the object of the Spaniards was known, it was resolved to reinforce
the garrison of St. Quentin, which otherwise, it was understood, could
not hold out a week. This perilous duty was assumed by Gaspard de
Coligni, admiral of France.[196] This personage, the head of an ancient
and honored house, was one of the most remarkable men of his time. His
name had gained a mournful celebrity in the page of history, as that of
the chief martyr in the massacre of St. Bartholomew. He embraced the
doctrines of Calvin, and by his austere manners and the purity of his
life well illustrated the doctrines he embraced. The decent order of his
household, and their scrupulous attention to the services of religion,
formed a striking contrast to the licentious conduct of too many of the
Catholics, who, however, were as prompt as Coligni to do battle in
defence of their faith. In early life he was the gay companion of the
duke of Guise.[197] But as the Calvinists, or Huguenots, were driven by
persecution to an independent and even hostile position, the two
friends, widely separated by opinion and by interest, were changed into
mortal foes. That hour had not yet come. But the heresy that was soon to
shake France to its centre was silently working under ground.

As the admiral was well instructed in military affairs, and was
possessed of an intrepid spirit and great fertility of resource, he was
precisely the person to undertake the difficult office of defending St.
Quentin. As governor of Picardy he felt this to be his duty. Without
loss of time, he put himself at the head of some ten or twelve hundred
men, horse and foot, and used such despatch that he succeeded in
entering the place before it had been entirely invested. He had the
mortification, however, to be followed only by seven hundred of his men,
the remainder having failed through fatigue, or mistaken the path.

The admiral found the place in even worse condition than he had
expected. The fortifications were much dilapidated; and in many parts of
the wall the masonry was of so flimsy a character, that it must have
fallen before the first discharge of the enemy's cannon. The town was
victualled for three weeks, and the magazines were tolerably well
supplied with ammunition. But there were not fifty arquebuses fit for
use.

St. Quentin stands on a gentle eminence, protected on one side by
marshes, or rather a morass of great extent, through which flows the
river Somme, or a branch of it. On the same side of the river with St.
Quentin lay the army of the besiegers, with their glittering lines
extending to the very verge of the morass. A broad ditch defended the
outer wall. But this ditch was commanded by the houses of the suburbs,
which had already been taken possession of by the besiegers. There was,
moreover, a thick plantation of trees close to the town, which would
afford an effectual screen for the approach of an enemy.

One of the admiral's first acts was to cause a sortie to be made. The
ditch was crossed, and some of the houses were burned to the ground. The
trees on the banks were then levelled, and the approach to the town was
laid open. Every preparation was made for a protracted defence. The
exact quantity of provision was ascertained, and the rations were
assigned for each man's daily consumption. As the supplies were
inadequate to support the increased population for any length of time,
Coligni ordered that all except those actively engaged in the defence of
the place should leave it without delay. Many, under one pretext or
another, contrived to remain, and share the fortunes of the garrison.
But by this regulation he got rid of seven hundred useless persons, who,
if they had staid, must have been the victims of famine; and "their dead
bodies," the admiral coolly remarked, "would have bred a pestilence
among the soldiers."[198]

He assigned to his men their several posts, talked boldly of maintaining
himself against all the troops of Spain, and by his cheerful tone
endeavored to inspire a confidence in others which he was far from
feeling himself. From one of the highest towers he surveyed the
surrounding country, tried to ascertain the most practicable fords in
the morass, and sent intelligence to Montmorency, that, without relief,
the garrison could not hold out more than a few days.[199]

That commander, soon after the admiral's departure, had marched his army
to the neighborhood of St. Quentin, and established it in the towns of
La Fère and Ham, together with the adjoining villages, so as to watch
the movements of the Spaniards, and coöperate, as occasion served, with
the besieged. He at once determined to strengthen the garrison, if
possible, by a reinforcement of two thousand men under Dandelot, a
younger brother of the admiral, and not inferior to him in audacity and
enterprise. But the expedition miserably failed. Through the treachery
or the ignorance of the guide, the party mistook the path, came on one
of the enemy's outposts, and, disconcerted by the accident, were thrown
into confusion, and many of them cut to pieces or drowned in the morass.
Their leader, with the remainder, succeeded, under cover of the night,
in making his way back to La Fère.

[Sidenote: BATTLE OF ST. QUENTIN.]

The constable now resolved to make another attempt, and in the open day.
He proposed to send a body, under the same commander, in boats across
the Somme, and to cover the embarkation in person with his whole army.
His force was considerably less than that of the Spaniards, amounting
in all to about eighteen thousand foot and six thousand horse, besides a
train of artillery consisting of sixteen guns.[200] His levies, like
those of his antagonist, were largely made up of German mercenaries. The
French peasantry, with the exception of the Gascons, who formed a fine
body of infantry, had long since ceased to serve in war. But the
chivalry of France was represented by as gallant an array of nobles and
cavaliers as ever fought under the banner of the lilies.

On the ninth of August, 1557, Montmorency put his whole army in motion;
and on the following morning, the memorable day of St. Lawrence, by nine
o'clock, he took up a position on the bank of the Somme. On the opposite
side, nearest the town, lay the Spanish force, covering the ground, as
far as the eye could reach, with their white pavilions; while the
banners of Spain, of Flanders, and of England, unfurled in the morning
breeze, showed the various nations from which the motley host had been
gathered.[201]

On the constable's right was a windmill, commanding a ford of the river
which led to the Spanish quarters. The building was held by a small
detachment of the enemy. Montmorency's first care was to get possession
of the mill, which he did without difficulty; and, by placing a garrison
there, under the prince of Condé, he secured himself from surprise in
that quarter. He then profited by a rising ground to get his guns in
position, so as to sweep the opposite bank, and at once opened a brisk
cannonade on the enemy. The march of the French had been concealed by
some intervening hills, so that, when they suddenly appeared on the
farther side of the Somme, it was as if they had dropped from the
clouds; and the shot which fell among the Spaniards threw them into
great disorder. There was hurrying to and fro, and some of the balls
striking the duke of Savoy's tent, he had barely time to escape with his
armor in his hand. It was necessary to abandon his position, and he
marched some three miles down the river, to the quarters occupied by the
commander of the cavalry, Count Egmont.[202]

Montmorency, as much elated with this cheap success as if it had been a
victory, now set himself about passing his troops across the water. It
was attended with more difficulty than he had expected. There were no
boats in readiness, and two hours were wasted in procuring them. After
all, only four or five could be obtained, and these so small that it
would be necessary to cross and recross the stream many times to effect
the object. The boats, crowded with as many as they could carry, stuck
fast in the marshy banks, or rather quagmire, on the opposite side; and
when some of the soldiers jumped out to lighten the load, they were
swallowed up and suffocated in the mud.[203] To add to these
distresses, they were galled by the incessant fire of a body of troops
which the Spanish general had stationed on an eminence that commanded
the landing.

While, owing to these causes, the transportation of the troops was going
slowly on, the duke of Savoy had called a council of war, and determined
that the enemy, since he had ventured so near, should not be allowed to
escape without a battle. There was a practicable ford in the river,
close to Count Egmont's quarters; and that officer received orders to
cross it at the head of his cavalry, and amuse the enemy until the main
body of the Spanish army, under the duke, should have time to come up.

Lamoral, Count Egmont, and prince of Gavre, a person who is to occupy a
large space in our subsequent pages, was a Flemish noble of an ancient
and illustrious lineage. He had early attracted the notice of the
emperor, who had raised him to various important offices, both civil and
military, in which he had acquitted himself with honor. At this time,
when thirty-five years old, he held the post of lieutenant-general of
the horse, and that of governor of Flanders.

Egmont was of a lofty and aspiring nature, filled with dreams of glory,
and so much elated by success, that the duke of Savoy was once obliged
to rebuke him, by reminding him that he was not the commander-in-chief
of the army.[204] With these defects he united some excellent qualities,
which not unfrequently go along with them. In his disposition he was
frank and manly, and, though hasty in temper, had a warm and generous
heart. He was distinguished by a chivalrous bearing, and a showy,
imposing address, which took with the people, by whom his name was held
dear in later times for his devotion to the cause of freedom. He was a
dashing officer, prompt and intrepid, well fitted for a brilliant
_coup-de-main_, or for an affair like the present, which required energy
and despatch; and he eagerly undertook the duty assigned him.

The light horse first passed over the ford, the existence of which was
known to Montmorency; and he had detached a corps of German pistoleers,
of whom there was a body in the French service, to defend the passage.
But the number was too small, and the Burgundian horse, followed by the
infantry, advanced, in face of the fire, as coolly and in as good order
as if they had been on parade.[205] The constable soon received tidings
that the enemy had begun to cross; and, aware of his mistake, he
reinforced his pistoleers with a squadron of horse under the duc de
Nevers. It was too late; when the French commander reached the ground,
the enemy had already crossed in such strength that it would have been
madness to attack him. After a brief consultation with his officers,
Nevers determined, by as speedy a countermarch as possible, to join the
main body of the army.

[Sidenote: BATTLE OF ST. QUENTIN.]

The prince of Condé, as has been mentioned, occupied the mill which
commanded the other ford, on the right of Montmorency. From its summit
he could descry the movements of the Spaniards, and their battalions
debouching on the plain, with scarcely any opposition from the French.
He advised the constable of this at once, and suggested the necessity of
an immediate retreat. The veteran did not relish advice from one so much
younger than himself, and testily replied, "I was a soldier before the
prince of Condé was born; and, by the blessing of Heaven, I trust to
teach him some good lessons in war for many a year to come." Nor would
he quit the ground while a man of the reinforcement under Dandelot
remained to cross.[206]

The cause of this fatal confidence was information he had received that
the ford was too narrow to allow more than four or five persons to pass
abreast, which would give him time enough to send over the troops, and
then secure his own retreat to La Fère. As it turned out, unfortunately,
the ford was wide enough to allow fifteen or twenty men to go abreast.

The French, meanwhile, who had crossed the river, after landing on the
opposite bank, were many of them killed or disabled by the Spanish
arquebusiers; others were lost in the morass; and of the whole number
not more than four hundred and fifty, wet, wounded, and weary, with
Dandelot at their head, succeeded in throwing themselves into St.
Quentin. The constable, having seen the last boat put off, gave instant
orders for retreat. The artillery was sent forward in the front, then
followed the infantry, and, last of all, he brought up the rear with the
horse, of which he took command in person. He endeavored to make up for
the precious time he had lost by quickening his march, which, however,
was retarded by the heavy guns in the van.

The duc de Nevers, as we have seen, declining to give battle to the
Spaniards who had crossed the stream, had prepared to retreat on the
main body of the army. On reaching the ground lately occupied by his
countrymen, he found it abandoned; and joining Condé, who still held the
mill, the two officers made all haste to overtake the constable.

Meanwhile, Count Egmont, as soon as he was satisfied that he was in
sufficient strength to attack the enemy, gave orders to advance, without
waiting for more troops to share with him the honors of victory.
Crossing the field lately occupied by the constable, he took the great
road to La Fère. But the rising ground which lay between him and the
French prevented him from seeing the enemy until he had accomplished
half a league or more. The day was now well advanced, and the Flemish
captain had some fears that, notwithstanding his speed, the quarry had
escaped him. But, as he turned the hill, he had the satisfaction to
descry the French columns in full retreat. On their rear hung a body of
sutlers and other followers of the camp, who, by the sudden apparition
of the Spaniards, were thrown into a panic, which they had wellnigh
communicated to the rest of the army.[207] To retreat before an enemy is
in itself a confession of weakness sufficiently dispiriting to the
soldier. Montmorency, roused by the tumult, saw the dark cloud gathering
along the heights, and knew that it must soon burst on him. In this
emergency, he asked counsel of an old officer near him as to what he
should do. "Had you asked me," replied the other, "two hours since, I
could have told you; it is now too late."[208] It was indeed too late,
and there was nothing to be done but to face about and fight the
Spaniards. The constable, accordingly, gave the word to halt, and made
dispositions to receive his assailants.

Egmont, seeing him thus prepared, formed his own squadron into three
divisions. One, which was to turn the left flank of the French, he gave
to the prince of Brunswick and to Count Hoorne,--a name afterwards
associated with his own on a sadder occasion than the present. Another,
composed chiefly of Germans, he placed under Count Mansfeldt, with
orders to assail the centre. He himself, at the head of his Burgundian
lances, rode on the left against Montmorency's right flank. Orders were
then given to charge, and, spurring forward their horses, the whole
column came thundering on against the enemy. The French met the shock
like well-trained soldiers, as they were; but the cavalry fell on them
with the fury of a torrent sweeping everything before it, and for a few
moments it seemed as if all were lost. But the French chivalry was true
to its honor, and, at the call of Montmorency, who gallantly threw
himself into the thick of the fight, it rallied, and, returning the
charge, compelled the assailants to give way in their turn. The
struggle, now continued on more equal terms, grew desperate; man against
man, horse against horse,--it seemed to be a contest of personal
prowess, rather than of tactics or military science. So well were the
two parties matched, that for a long time the issue was doubtful; and
the Spaniards might not have prevailed in the end, but for the arrival
of reinforcements, both foot and heavy cavalry, who came up to their
support. Unable to withstand this accumulated force, the French
cavaliers, overpowered by numbers, not by superior valor, began to give
ground. Hard pressed by Egmont, who cheered on his men to renewed
efforts, their ranks were at length broken. The retreat became a flight;
and, scattered over the field in all directions, they were hotly pursued
by their adversaries, especially the German _schwarzreiters_,--those
riders "black as devils,"[209]--who did such execution with their
fire-arms as completed the discomfiture of the French.

Amidst this confusion, the Gascons, the flower of the French infantry,
behaved with admirable coolness.[210] Throwing themselves into squares,
with the pikemen armed with their long pikes in front, and the
arquebusiers in the centre, they presented an impenetrable array,
against which the tide of battle raged and chafed in impotent fury. It
was in vain that the Spanish horse rode round the solid masses bristling
with steel, if possible, to force an entrance, while an occasional shot,
striking a trooper from his saddle, warned them not to approach too
near.

It was in this state of things that the duke of Savoy, with the
remainder of the troops, including the artillery, came on the field of
action. His arrival could not have been more seasonable. The heavy guns
were speedily turned on the French squares, whose dense array presented
an obvious mark to the Spanish bullets. Their firm ranks were rent
asunder; and, as the brave men tried in vain to close over the bodies of
their dying comrades, the horse took advantage of the openings to plunge
into the midst of the phalanx. Here the long spears of the pikemen were
of no avail, and, striking right and left, the cavaliers dealt death on
every side. All now was confusion and irretrievable ruin. No one thought
of fighting, or even of self-defence. The only thought was of flight.
Men overturned one another in their eagerness to escape. They were soon
mingled with the routed cavalry, who rode down their own countrymen.
Horses ran about the field without riders. Many of the soldiers threw
away their arms, to fly the more quickly. All strove to escape from the
terrible pursuit which hung on their rear. The artillery and
ammunition-wagons choked up the road, and obstructed the flight of the
fugitives. The slaughter was dreadful. The best blood of France flowed
like water.

[Sidenote: ARMY ROUTED.]

Yet mercy was shown to those who asked it. Hundreds and thousands threw
down their arms, and obtained quarter. Nevers, according to some
accounts, covered the right flank of the French army. Others state that
he was separated from it by a ravine or valley. At all events, he fared
no better than his leader. He was speedily enveloped by the cavalry of
Hoorne and Brunswick, and his fine corps of light horse cut to pieces.
He himself, with the prince of Condé, was so fortunate as to make his
escape, with the remnant of his forces, to La Fère.

Had the Spaniards followed up the pursuit, few Frenchmen might have been
left that day to tell the story of the rout of St. Quentin. But the
fight had already lasted four hours; evening was setting in; and the
victors, spent with toil and sated with carnage, were content to take up
their quarters on the field of battle.

The French, in the mean time, made their way, one after another, to La
Fère, and, huddling together in the public squares, or in the quarters
they had before occupied, remained like a herd of panic-struck deer, in
whose ears the sounds of the chase are still ringing. But the loyal
cavaliers threw off their panic, and recovered heart, when a rumor
reached them that their commander, Montmorency, was still making head,
with a body of stout followers, against the enemy. At the tidings, faint
and bleeding as they were, they sprang to the saddles which they had
just quitted, and were ready again to take the field.[211]

But the rumor was without foundation. Montmorency was a prisoner in the
hands of the Spaniards. The veteran had exposed his own life throughout
the action, as if willing to show that he would not shrink in any degree
from the peril into which he had brought his followers. When he saw that
the day was lost, he threw himself into the hottest of the battle,
holding life cheap in comparison with honor. A shot from the pistol of a
_schwarzreiter_, fracturing his thigh, disabled him from further
resistance; and he fell into the hands of the Spaniards, who treated him
with the respect due to his rank. The number of prisoners was very
large,--according to some accounts, six thousand, of whom six hundred
were said to be gentlemen and persons of condition. The number of the
slain is stated, as usual, with great discrepancy, varying from three to
six thousand. A much larger proportion of them than usual were men of
family. Many a noble house in France went into mourning for that day.
Among those who fell was Jean de Bourbon, count d'Enghien, a prince of
the blood. Mortally wounded, he was carried to the tent of the duke of
Savoy, where he soon after expired, and his body was sent to his
countrymen at La Fère for honorable burial. To balance this bloody roll,
no account states the loss of the Spaniards at over a thousand men.[212]

More than eighty standards, including those of the cavalry, fell into
the hands of the victors, together with all the artillery,
ammunition-wagons, and baggage of the enemy. France had not experienced
such a defeat since the battle of Agincourt.[213]

King Philip had left Brussels, and removed his quarters to Cambray, that
he might be near the duke of Savoy, with whom he kept up daily
communication throughout the siege. Immediately after the battle, on the
eleventh of August, he visited the camp in person. At the same time, he
wrote to his father, expressing his regret that he had not been there to
share the glory of the day.[214] The emperor seems to have heartily
shared this regret.[215] It is quite certain, if Charles had had the
direction of affairs, he would not have been absent. But Philip had not
the bold, adventurous spirit of his father. His talent lay rather in
meditation than in action; and his calm, deliberate forecast better
fitted him for the council than the camp. In enforcing levies, in
raising supplies, in superintending the organization of the army, he was
indefatigable. The plan of the campaign was determined under his own
eye; and he was most sagacious in the selection of his agents. But to
those agents he prudently left the conduct of the war, for which he had
no taste, perhaps no capacity, himself. He did not, like his rival,
Henry the Second, fancy himself a great captain because he could carry
away the prizes of a tourney.

Philip was escorted to the camp by his household troops. He appeared on
this occasion armed _cap-à-pie_,--a thing by no means common with him.
It seems to have pleased his fancy to be painted in military costume. At
least, there are several portraits of him in complete mail,--one from
the pencil of Titian. A picture taken at the present time was sent by
him to Queen Mary, who, in this age of chivalry, may have felt some
pride in seeing her lord in the panoply of war.

On the king's arrival at the camp, he was received with all the honors
of a victor; with flourishes of trumpets, salvos of artillery, and the
loud shouts of the soldiery. The duke of Savoy laid at his feet the
banners and other trophies of the fight, and, kneeling down, would have
kissed Philip's hand; but the king, raising him from the ground, and
embracing him as he did so, said that the acknowledgments were due from
himself to the general who had won him such a victory. At the same time,
he paid a well-deserved compliment to the brilliant part which Egmont
and his brave companions had borne in the battle.[216]

[Sidenote: FRENCH ARMY ROUTED.]

The first thing to be done was to dispose of the prisoners, whose number
embarrassed the conquerors. Philip dismissed all those of the common
file, on the condition that they should not bear arms for six months
against the Spaniards. The condition did no great detriment to the
French service, as the men, on their return, were sent to garrison some
distant towns, and their places in the army filled by the troops whom
they had relieved. The cavaliers and persons of condition were lodged in
fortresses, where they could be securely detained till the amount of
their respective ransoms was determined. These ransoms formed an
important part of the booty of the conqueror. How important, may be
inferred from the sum offered by the constable on his own account and
that of his son,--no less, it is said, than a hundred and sixty-five
thousand gold crowns.[217] The soldier of that day, when the penalty was
loss of fortune as well as of freedom, must be confessed to have fought
on harder conditions than at present.

A council of war was next called, to decide on further operations. When
Charles the Fifth received tidings of the victory of St. Quentin, the
first thing he asked, as we are told, was "whether Philip were at
Paris."[218] Had Charles been in command, he would doubtless have
followed up the blow by presenting himself at once before the French
capital. But Philip was not of that sanguine temper which overlooks, or
at least overleaps, the obstacles in its way. Charles calculated the
chances of success; Philip, those of failure. Charles's character opened
the way to more brilliant achievements, but exposed him also to severer
reverses. His enterprising spirit was more favorable to building up a
great empire; the cautious temper of Philip was better fitted to
preserve it. Philip came in the right time; and his circumspect policy
was probably better suited to his position, as well as to his character,
than the bolder policy of the emperor.

When the duke of Savoy urged, as it is said, the expediency of profiting
by the present panic to march at once on the French capital, Philip
looked at the dangers of such a step. Several strong fortresses of the
enemy would be left in his rear. Rivers must be crossed, presenting
lines of defence which could easily be maintained against a force even
superior to his own. Paris was covered by formidable works, and forty
thousand citizens could be enrolled, at the shortest notice, for its
protection. It was not wise to urge the foe to extremity, to force a
brave and loyal people, like the French, to rise _en masse_, as they
would do for the defence of their capital. The emperor, his father, had
once invaded France with a powerful army, and laid siege to Marseilles.
The issue of that invasion was known to everybody. "The Spaniards," it
was tauntingly said, "had come into the country feasting on turkeys;
they were glad to escape from it feeding on roots!"[219] Philip
determined, therefore, to abide by his original plan of operations, and
profit by the late success of his arms to press the siege of St. Quentin
with his whole force.--It would not be easy for any one, at this
distance of time, to pronounce on the wisdom of his decision. But
subsequent events tend considerably to strengthen our confidence in it.

Preparations were now made to push the siege with vigor. Besides the
cannon already in the camp, and those taken in the battle, a good number
of pieces were brought from Cambray to strengthen the battering-train
of the besiegers. The river was crossed; and the Faubourg d'Ile was
carried by the duke, after a stout resistance on the part of the French,
who burned the houses in their retreat. The Spanish commander availed
himself of his advantage to establish batteries close to the town, which
kept up an incessant cannonade, that shook the old walls and towers to
their foundation. The miners also carried on their operations, and
galleries were excavated almost to the centre of the place.

The condition of the besieged, in the mean time, was forlorn in the
extreme; not so much from want of food, though their supplies were
scanty, as from excessive toil and exposure. Then it was that Coligni
displayed all the strength of his character. He felt the importance of
holding out as long as possible, that the nation might have time to
breathe, as it were, and recover from the late disaster. He endeavored
to infuse his own spirit into the hearts of his soldiers, toiling with
the meanest of them, and sharing all their privations. He cheered the
desponding, by assuring them of speedy relief from their countrymen.
Some he complimented for their bravery; others he flattered by asking
their advice. He talked loudly of the resources at his command. If any
should hear him so much as hint at a surrender, he gave them leave to
tie him hand and foot, and throw him into the moat. If he should hear
one of them talk of it, the admiral promised to do as much by him.[220]

The duc de Nevers, who had established himself, with the wreck of the
French army and such additional levies as he could muster, in the
neighborhood of St. Quentin, contrived to communicate with the admiral.
On one occasion he succeeded in throwing a reinforcement of a hundred
and twenty arquebusiers into the town, though it cost him thrice that
number, cut to pieces by the Spaniards in the attempt. Still the number
of the garrison was altogether inadequate to the duties imposed on it.
With scanty refreshment, almost without repose, watching and fighting by
turns, the day passed in defending the breaches which the night was not
long enough to repair. No frame could be strong enough to endure it.

Coligni had, fortunately, the services of a skilful engineer, named St.
Rémy, who aided him in repairing the injuries inflicted on the works by
the artillery, and by the scarcely less destructive mines of the
Spaniards. In the want of solid masonry, every material was resorted to
for covering up the breaches. Timbers were thrown across; and boats
filled with earth, laid on the broken rampart, afforded a good bulwark
for the French musketeers. But the time was come when neither the skill
of the engineer nor the courage of the garrison could further avail.
Eleven practicable breaches had been opened, and St. Rémy assured the
admiral that he could not engage to hold out four-and-twenty hours
longer.[221]

[Sidenote: STORMING OF ST. QUENTIN.]

The duke of Savoy also saw that the time had come to bring the siege to
a close by a general assault. The twenty-seventh of August was the day
assigned for it. On that preceding he fired three mines, which shook
down some fragments of the wall, but did less execution than was
expected. On the morning of the twenty-seventh, his whole force was
under arms. The duke divided it into as many corps as there were
breaches, placing these corps under his best and bravest officers. He
proposed to direct the assault in person.

Coligni made his preparations also with consummate coolness. He posted a
body of troops at each of the breaches, while he and his brother
Dandelot took charge of the two which, still more exposed than the
others, might be considered as the post of danger. He had the
satisfaction to find, in this hour of trial, that the men, as well as
their officers, seemed to be animated with his own heroic spirit.

Before proceeding to storm the place, the duke of Savoy opened a brisk
cannonade, in order to clear away the barricades of timber, and other
temporary defences, which had been thrown across the breaches. The fire
continued for several hours, and it was not till afternoon that the
signal was given for the assault. The troops rushed forward,--Spaniards,
Flemings, English, and Germans,--spurred on by feelings of national
rivalry. A body of eight thousand brave Englishmen had joined the
standard of Philip in the early part of the campaign;[222] and they now
eagerly coveted the opportunity for distinction which had been denied
them at the battle of St. Quentin, where the fortune of the day was
chiefly decided by cavalry. But no troops felt so keen a spur to their
achievements as the Spaniards, fighting as they were under the eye of
their sovereign, who from a neighboring eminence was spectator of the
combat.

The obstacles were not formidable in the path of the assailants, who
soon clambered over the fragments of masonry and other rubbish which lay
scattered below the ramparts, and, in the face of a steady fire of
musketry, presented themselves before the breaches. The brave men
stationed to defend them were in sufficient strength to occupy the open
spaces; their elevated position gave them some advantage over the
assailants, and they stood to their posts with the resolution of men
prepared to die rather than surrender. A fierce conflict now ensued
along the whole extent of the ramparts; and the French, sustained by a
dauntless spirit, bore themselves as stoutly in the fight as if they had
been in training for it of late, instead of being enfeebled by scanty
subsistence and excessive toil. After a severe struggle, which lasted
nearly an hour, the Spaniards were driven back at all points. Not a
breach was won; and, broken and dispirited, the assailants were
compelled to retire on their former position.

After this mortifying repulse, the duke did not give them a long time to
breathe, before he again renewed the assault. This time he directed the
main attack against a tower where the resistance had been weakest. In
fact, Coligni had there placed the troops on whom he had least reliance,
trusting to the greater strength of the works. But a strong heart is
worth all the defences in the world. After a sharp but short struggle,
the assailants succeeded in carrying the tower. The faint-hearted troops
gave way; and the Spaniards, throwing themselves on the rampart,
remained masters of one of the breaches. A footing once gained, the
assailants poured impetuously into the opening, Spaniards, Germans, and
English streaming like a torrent along the ramparts, and attacking the
defenders on their flank. Coligni, meanwhile, and his brother Dandelot,
had rushed, with a few followers, to the spot, in the hope, if possible,
to arrest the impending ruin. But they were badly supported. Overwhelmed
by numbers, they were trodden down, disarmed, and made prisoners. Still
the garrison, at the remaining breaches, continued to make a desperate
stand. But, with one corps pressing them on flank, and another in front,
they were speedily cut to pieces, or disabled and taken. In half an
hour resistance had ceased along the ramparts. The town was in
possession of the Spaniards.[223]

A scene of riot and wild uproar followed, such as made the late conflict
seem tame in comparison. The victorious troops spread over the town in
quest of plunder, perpetrating those deeds of ruthless violence, usual,
even in this enlightened age, in a city taken by storm. The wretched
inhabitants fled before them; the old and the helpless, the women and
children, taking refuge in garrets, cellars, and any other corner where
they could hide themselves from their pursuers. Nothing was to be heard
but the groans of the wounded and the dying, the cries of women and
children,--"so pitiful," says one present, "that they would grieve any
Christian heart,"[224]--mingled, with the shouts of the victors, who,
intoxicated with liquor, and loaded with booty, now madly set fire to
several of the buildings, which soon added the dangers of conflagration
to the other horrors of the scene. In a short time, the town would have
been reduced to ashes, and the place which Philip had won at so much
cost would have been lost to him by the excesses of his own soldiers.

The king had now entered the city in person. He had never been present
at the storming of a place, and the dreadful spectacle which he
witnessed touched his heart. Measures were instantly taken to extinguish
the flames, and orders were issued that no one, under pain of death,
should offer any violence to the old and infirm, to the women and
children, to the ministers of religion, to religious edifices, or, above
all, to the relics of the blessed St. Quentin. Several hundred of the
poor people, it is said, presented themselves before Philip, and claimed
his protection. By his command they were conducted, under a strong
escort, to a place of safety.[225]

It was not possible, however, to prevent the pillage of the town. It
would have been as easy to snatch the carcass from the tiger that was
rending it. The pillage of a place taken by storm was regarded as the
perquisite of the soldier, on which he counted as regularly as on his
pay. Those who distinguished themselves most, in this ruthless work,
were the German mercenaries. Their brutal rapacity filled even their
confederates with indignation. The latter seem to have been particularly
disgusted with the unscrupulous manner in which the _schwarzreiters_
appropriated not only their own share of the plunder, but that of both
English and Spaniards.[226]

[Sidenote: SUCCESSES OF THE SPANIARDS.]

Thus fell the ancient town of St. Quentin, after a defence which
reflects equal honor on the courage of the garrison, and on the conduct
of their commander. With its fortifications wretchedly out of repair,
its supplies of arms altogether inadequate, the number of its garrison
at no time exceeding a thousand, it still held out for near a month
against a powerful army, fighting under the eyes of its sovereign, and
led by one of the best captains of Europe.[227]

Philip, having taken measures to restore the fortifications of St.
Quentin, placed it under the protection of a Spanish garrison, and
marched against the neighboring town of Catelet. It was a strong place,
but its defenders, unlike their valiant countrymen at St. Quentin, after
a brief show of resistance, capitulated on the sixth of September. This
was followed by the surrender of Ham, once renowned through Picardy for
the strength of its defences. Philip then led his victorious battalions
against Noyon and Chaulny, which last town was sacked by the soldiers.
The French were filled with consternation, as one strong place after
another, on the frontier, fell into the hands of an enemy who seemed as
if he were planting his foot permanently on their soil. That Philip did
not profit by his success to push his conquests still further, is to be
attributed not to remissness on his part, but to the conduct, or rather
the composition, of his army, made up, as it was, of troops, who,
selling their swords to the highest bidder, cared little for the banner
under which they fought. Drawn from different countries, the soldiers,
gathered into one camp, soon showed all their national rivalries and
animosities. The English quarrelled with the Germans, and neither could
brook the insolent bearing of the Spaniards. The Germans complained that
their arrears were not paid,--a complaint probably well founded, as,
notwithstanding his large resources, Philip, on an emergency, found the
difficulty in raising funds, which every prince in that day felt, when
there was no such thing known as a well-arranged system of taxation.
Tempted by the superior offers of Henry the Second, the _schwarzreiters_
left the standard of Philip in great numbers, to join that of his rival.

The English were equally discontented. They had brought from home the
aversion for the Spaniards which had been festering there since the
queen's marriage. The sturdy islanders were not at all pleased with
serving under Philip. They were fighting, not the battles of England,
they said, but of Spain. Every new conquest was adding to the power of a
monarch far too powerful already. They had done enough, and insisted on
being allowed to return to their own country. The king, who dreaded
nothing so much as a rupture between his English and his Spanish
subjects, to which he saw the state of things rapidly tending, was fain
to consent.

By this departure of the English force, and the secession of the
Germans, Philip's strength was so much impaired, that he was in no
condition to make conquests, hardly to keep the field. The season was
now far advanced, for it was the end of October. Having, therefore,
garrisoned the conquered places, and put them in the best posture of
defence, he removed his camp to Brussels, and soon after put his army
into winter-quarters.[228]

Thus ended the first campaign of Philip the Second; the first, and, with
the exception of the following, the only campaign in which he was
personally present. It had been eminently successful. Besides the
important places which he had gained on the frontier of Picardy, he had
won a signal victory in the field.

But the campaign was not so memorable for military results as in a moral
view. It showed the nations of Europe that the Spanish sceptre had
passed into the hands of a prince who was as watchful as his predecessor
had been over the interests of the state; and who, if he were not so
actively ambitious as Charles the Fifth, would be as little likely to
brook any insult from his neighbors. The victory of St. Quentin,
occurring at the commencement of his reign, reminded men of the victory
won at Pavia by his father, at a similar period of his career, and, like
that, furnished a brilliant augury for the future. Philip, little given
to any visible expression of his feelings, testified his joy at the
success of his arms, by afterwards raising the magnificent pile of the
Escorial, in honor of the blessed martyr St. Lawrence, on whose day the
battle was fought, and to whose interposition with Heaven he attributed
the victory.




CHAPTER VIII.

WAR WITH FRANCE.

Extraordinary Efforts of France.--Calais surprised by Guise.--The French
invade Flanders.--Bloody Battle of Gravelines.--Negotiations for
Peace.--Mary's Death.--Accession of Elizabeth.--Treaty of
Cateau-Cambresis.

1557-1559.


The state of affairs in France justified Philip's conclusions in respect
to the loyalty of the people. No sooner did Henry the Second receive
tidings of the fatal battle of St. Quentin, than he despatched couriers
in all directions, summoning his chivalry to gather round his banner,
and calling on the towns for aid in his extremity. The nobles and
cavaliers promptly responded to the call, flocking in with their
retainers; and not only the large towns, but those of inferior size,
cheerfully submitted to be heavily taxed for the public service. Paris
nobly set the example. She did not exhaust her zeal in processions of
the clergy, headed by the queen and the royal family, carrying with them
relics from the different churches. All the citizens capable of bearing
arms enrolled themselves for the defence of the capital; and large
appropriations were made for strengthening Montmartre, and for defraying
the expenses of the war.[229]

[Sidenote: CALAIS SURPRISED BY GUISE.]

With these and other resources at his command, Henry was speedily
enabled to subsidize a large body of Swiss and German mercenaries. The
native troops serving abroad were ordered home. The veteran Marshal
Termes came, with a large corps, from Tuscany, and the duke of Guise
returned, with the remnant of his battalions, from Rome. This popular
commander was welcomed with enthusiasm. The nation seemed to look to him
as to the deliverer of the country. His late campaign in the kingdom of
Naples was celebrated as if it had been a brilliant career of victory.
He was made lieutenant-general of the army, and the oldest captains were
proud to take service under so renowned a chief.

The government was not slow to profit by the extraordinary resources
thus placed at its disposal. Though in the depth of winter, it was
resolved to undertake some enterprise that should retrieve the disasters
of the late campaign, and raise the drooping spirits of the nation. The
object proposed was the recovery of Calais, that strong place, which for
more than two centuries had remained in possession of the English.

The French had ever been keenly sensible to the indignity of an enemy
thus planting his foot immovably, as it were, on their soil. They had
looked to the recovery of Calais with the same feelings with which the
Spanish Moslems, when driven into Africa, looked to the recovery of
their ancient possessions in Granada. They showed how constantly this
was in their thoughts, by a common saying respecting any commander whom
they held lightly, that he was "not a man to drive the English out of
France."[230] The feelings they entertained, however, were rather those
of desire than of expectation. The place was so strong, so well
garrisoned, and so accessible to the English, that it seemed
impregnable. These same circumstances, and the long possession of the
place, had inspired the English, on the other hand, with no less
confidence, as was pretty well intimated by an inscription on the bronze
gates of the town,--"When the French besiege Calais, lead and iron will
swim like cork."[231] This confidence, as it often happens, proved their
ruin.

The bishop of Acqs, the French envoy to England, on returning home, a
short time before this, had passed through Calais, and gave a strange
report of the decay of the works, and the small number of the garrison,
in short, of the defenceless condition of the place. Guise, however, as
cautious as he was brave, was unwilling to undertake so hazardous an
enterprise without more precise information. When satisfied of the fact,
he entered on the project with his characteristic ardor. The plan
adopted was said to have been originally suggested by Coligni. In order
to deceive the enemy, the duke sent the largest division of the army,
under Nevers, in the direction of Luxemburg. He then marched with the
remainder into Picardy, as if to menace one of the places conquered by
the Spaniards. Soon afterwards the two corps united, and Guise, at the
head of his whole force, by a rapid march, presented himself before the
walls of Calais.

The town was defended by a strong citadel, and by two forts. One of
these, commanding the approach by water, the duke stormed and captured
on the second of January, 1558. The other, which overlooked the land, he
carried on the following day. Possessed of these two forts, he felt
secure from any annoyance by the enemy, either by land or by water. He
then turned his powerful battering-train against the citadel, keeping up
a furious cannonade by day and by night. On the fifth, as soon as a
breach was opened, the victorious troops poured in, and, overpowering
the garrison, planted the French colors on the walls. The earl of
Wentworth, who commanded in Calais, unable, with his scanty garrison, to
maintain the place now that the defences were in the hands of the enemy,
capitulated on the eighth. The fall of Calais was succeeded by that of
Guisnes and of Hames. Thus, in a few days the English were stripped of
every rood of the territory which they had held in France since the time
of Edward the Third.

The fall of Calais caused the deepest sensation on both sides of the
Channel. The English, astounded by the event, loudly inveighed against
the treachery of the commander. They should rather have blamed the
treachery of their own government, who had so grossly neglected to
provide for the defence of the place. Philip, suspecting the designs of
the French, had intimated his suspicions to the English government, and
had offered to strengthen the garrison by a reinforcement of his own
troops. But his allies, perhaps distrusting his motives, despised his
counsel, or at least failed to profit by it.[232] After the place was
taken, he made another offer to send a strong force to recover it,
provided the English would support him with a sufficient fleet. This
also, perhaps from the same feeling of distrust, though on the plea of
inability to meet the expense, was declined, and the opportunity for the
recovery of Calais was lost for ever.[233]

Yet, in truth, it was no great loss to the nation. Like more than one,
probably, of the colonial possessions of England at the present day,
Calais cost every year more than it was worth. Its chief value was the
facility it afforded for the invasion of France. Yet such a facility for
war with their neighbors, always too popular with the English before the
time of Philip the Second, was of questionable value. The real injury
from the loss of Calais was the wound which it inflicted on the national
honor.

The exultation of the French was boundless. It could not well have been
greater, if the duke of Guise had crossed the Channel and taken London
itself. The brilliant and rapid manner in which the exploit had been
performed, the gallantry with which the young general had exposed his
own person in the assault, the generosity with which he had divided his
share of the booty among the soldiers, all struck the lively imagination
of the French; and he became more than ever the idol of the people.

Yet, during the remainder of the campaign, his arms were not crowned
with such distinguished success. In May he marched against the strong
town of Thionville, in Luxemburg. After a siege of twenty days, the
place surrendered. Having taken one or two other towns of less
importance, the French army wasted nearly three weeks in a state of
inaction, unless, indeed, we take into account the activity caused by
intestine troubles of the army itself. It is difficult to criticize
fairly the conduct of a commander of that age, when his levies were made
up so largely of foreign mercenaries, who felt so little attachment to
the service in which they were engaged, that they were ready to quarrel
with it on the slightest occasion. Among these the German
_schwarzreiters_ were the most conspicuous, manifesting too often a
degree of insolence and insubordination that made them hardly less
dangerous as friends than as enemies. The importance they attached to
their own services made them exorbitant in their demands of pay. When
this, as was too frequently the case, was in arrears, they took the
matter into their own hands, by pillaging the friendly country in which
they were quartered, or by breaking out into open mutiny. A German
baron, on one occasion, went so far as to level his pistol at the head
of the duke of Guise. So widely did this mutinous spirit extend, that
it was only by singular coolness and address that this popular chieftain
could bring these adventurers into anything like subjection to his
authority. As it was, the loss of time caused by these troubles was
attended with most disastrous consequences.

[Sidenote: THE FRENCH INVADE FLANDERS.]

The duke had left Calais garrisoned by a strong force, under Marshal
Termes. He had since ordered that veteran to take command of a body of
fifteen hundred horse and five thousand foot, drawn partly from the
garrison itself, and to march into West Flanders. Guise proposed to join
him there with his own troops, when they would furnish such occupation
to the Spaniards as would effectually prevent them from a second
invasion of Picardy.

The plan was well designed, and the marshal faithfully executed his part
of it. Taking the road by St. Omer, he entered Flanders in the
neighborhood of Dunkirk, laid siege to that flourishing town, stormed
and gave it up to pillage. He then penetrated as far as Nieuport, when
the fatigue and the great heat of the weather brought on an attack of
gout, which entirely disabled him. The officer on whom the command
devolved allowed the men to spread themselves over the country, where
they perpetrated such acts of rapacity and violence as were not
sanctioned even by the code of that unscrupulous age. The wretched
inhabitants, driven from their homes, called loudly on Count Egmont,
their governor, to protect them. The duke of Savoy lay with his army, at
this time, at Maubeuge, in the province of Namur; but he sent orders to
Egmont to muster such forces as he could raise in the neighboring
country, and to intercept the retreat of the French, until the duke
could come to his support and chastise the enemy.

Egmont, indignant at the wrongs of his countrymen, and burning with the
desire of revenge, showed the greatest alacrity in obeying these orders.
Volunteers came in from all sides, and he soon found himself at the head
of an army consisting of ten or twelve thousand foot and two thousand
horse. With these he crossed the borders at once, and sent forward a
detachment to occupy the great road by which De Termes had penetrated
into Flanders.

The French commander, advised too late of these movements, saw that it
was necessary to abandon at once his present quarters, and secure, if
possible, his retreat. Guise was at a distance, occupied with the
troubles of his own camp. The Flemings had possession of the route by
which the marshal had entered the country. One other lay open to him
along the sea-shore, in the neighborhood of Gravelines, where the Aa
pours its waters into the ocean. By taking advantage of the ebb, the
river might be forded, and a direct road to Calais would be presented.

Termes saw that no time was to be lost. He caused himself to be removed
from his sick-bed to a litter, and began his retreat at once. On leaving
Dunkirk, he fired the town, where the houses were all that remained to
the wretched inhabitants of their property. His march was impeded by his
artillery, by his baggage, and especially by the booty which he was
conveying back from the plundered provinces. He however succeeded in
crossing the Aa at low water, and gained the sands on the opposite side.
But the enemy was there before him.[234]

Egmont, on getting tidings of the marshal's movements, had crossed the
river higher up, where the stream was narrower. Disencumbering himself
of artillery, and even of baggage, in order to move the lighter, he made
a rapid march to the sea-side, and reached it in time to intercept the
enemy. There was no choice left for Termes but to fight his way through
the Spaniards or surrender.

Ill as he was, the marshal mounted his horse, and addressed a few words
to his troops. Pointing in the direction of the blazing ruins of
Dunkirk, he told them that they could not return there. Then turning
towards Calais, "There is your home," he said, "and you must beat the
enemy before you can gain it." He determined, however, not to begin the
action, but to secure his position as strongly as he could, and wait the
assault of the Spaniards.

He placed his infantry in the centre, and flanked it on either side by
his cavalry. In the front he established his artillery, consisting of
six or seven falconets,--field-pieces of smaller size. He threw a
considerable body of Gascon pikemen in the rear, to act as a reserve
wherever their presence should be required. The river Aa, which flowed
behind his troops, formed also a good protection in that quarter. His
left wing he covered by a barricade made of the baggage and artillery
wagons. His right, which rested on the ocean, seemed secure from any
annoyance on that side.

Count Egmont, seeing the French thus preparing to give battle, quickly
made his own dispositions. He formed his cavalry into three divisions.
The centre he proposed to lead in person. It was made up chiefly of the
heavy men-at-arms and some Flemish horse. On the right he placed his
light cavalry, and on the left wing rode the Spanish. His infantry he
drew up in such a manner as to support the several divisions of horse.
Having completed his arrangements, he gave orders to the centre and the
right wing to charge, and rode at full gallop against the enemy.

Though somewhat annoyed by the heavy guns in their advance, the
battalions came on in good order, and fell with such fury on the French
left and centre, that horse and foot were borne down by the violence of
the shock. But the French gentlemen who formed the cavalry were of the
same high mettle as those who fought at St. Quentin. Though borne down
for a moment, they were not overpowered; and, after a desperate
struggle, they succeeded in rallying and in driving back the assailants.
Egmont returned to the charge, but was forced back with greater loss
than before. The French, following up their advantage, compelled the
assailants to retreat on their own lines. The guns, at the same time,
opening on the exposed flank of the retreating troopers, did them
considerable mischief. Egmont's horse was killed under him, and he had
nearly been run over by his own followers. In the mean while, the Gascon
reserve, armed with their long spears, pushed on to the support of the
cavalry, and filled the air with their shouts of "Victory!"[235]

The field seemed to be already lost; when the left wing of Spanish
horse, which had not yet come into action, seeing the disorderly state
of the French, as they were pressing on, charged them briskly on the
flank. This had the effect to check the tide of pursuit, and give the
fugitives time to rally. Egmont, meanwhile, was mounted on a fresh
horse, and, throwing himself into the midst of his followers, endeavored
to reanimate their courage and reform their disordered ranks. Then,
cheering them on by his voice and example, he cried out, "We are
conquerors! Those who love glory and their fatherland, follow me!"[236]
and spurred furiously against the enemy.

[Sidenote: BATTLE OF GRAVELINES.]

The French, hard pressed both on front and on flank, fell back in their
turn, and continued to retreat till they had gained their former
position. At the same time, the _lanzknechts_ in Egmont's service,
marched up, in defiance of the fire of the artillery, and got possession
of the guns, running the men who had charge of them through with their
lances.[237] The fight now became general; and, as the combatants were
brought into close quarters, they fought as men fight where numbers are
nearly balanced, and each one seems to feel that his own arm may turn
the scale of victory. The result was brought about by an event which
neither party could control, and neither have foreseen.

An English squadron of ten or twelve vessels lay at some distance, but
out of sight of the combatants. Attracted by the noise of the firing,
its commander drew near the scene of action, and, ranging along shore,
opened his fire on the right wing of the French, nearest the sea.[238]
The shot, probably, from the distance of the ships, did no great
execution, and is even said to have killed some of the Spaniards. But it
spread a panic among the French, as they found themselves assailed by a
new enemy, who seemed to have risen from the depths of the ocean. In
their eagerness to extricate themselves from the fire, the cavalry on
the right threw themselves on the centre, trampling down their own
comrades, until all discipline was lost, and horse and foot became
mingled together in wild disorder. Egmont profited by the opportunity to
renew his charge; and at length, completely broken and dispirited, the
enemy gave way in all directions. The stout body of Gascons who formed
the reserve alone held their ground for a time, until, vigorously
charged by the phalanx of Spanish spearmen, they broke, and were
scattered like the rest.

The rout was now general, and the victorious cavalry rode over the
field, trampling and cutting down the fugitives on all sides. Many who
did not fall under their swords perished in the waters of the Aa, now
swollen by the rising tide. Others were drowned in the ocean. No less
than fifteen hundred of those who escaped from the field are said to
have been killed by the peasantry, who occupied the passes, and thus
took bloody revenge for the injuries inflicted on their country.[239]
Two thousand French are stated to have fallen on the field, and not more
than five hundred Spaniards, or rather Flemings, who composed the bulk
of the army. The loss fell most severely on the French cavalry; severely
indeed, if, according to some accounts, not very credible, they were cut
to pieces almost to a man.[240] The number of prisoners was three
thousand. Among them was Marshal Termes himself, who had been disabled
by a wound in the head. All the baggage, the ammunition, and the rich
spoil gleaned by the foray into Flanders, became the prize of the
victors.--Although not so important for the amount of forces engaged,
the victory of Gravelines was as complete as that of St. Quentin.[241]

Yet the French, who had a powerful army on foot, were in better
condition to meet their reverses than on that day. The duke of Guise, on
receiving the tidings, instantly marched with his whole force, and
posted himself strongly behind the Somme, in order to cover Picardy from
invasion. The duke of Savoy, uniting his forces with those of Count
Egmont, took up a position along the line of the Authie, and made
demonstrations of laying siege to Dourlens. The French and Spanish
monarchs both took the field. So well appointed and large a force as
that led by Henry had not been seen in France for many a year; yet that
monarch might justly be mortified by the reflection that the greater
part of this force was made up of foreign mercenaries, amounting, it is
said, to forty thousand. Philip was in equal strength, and the length of
the war had enabled him to assemble his best captains around him. Among
them was Alva, whose cautious councils might serve to temper the bolder
enterprise of the duke of Savoy.

A level ground, four leagues in breadth, lay between the armies.
Skirmishes took place occasionally between the light troops on either
side, and a general engagement might be brought on at any moment. All
eyes were turned to the battle-field, where the two greatest princes of
Europe might so soon contend for mastery with each other. Had the
fathers of these princes, Charles the Fifth and Francis the First, been
in the field, such very probably would have been the issue. But Philip
was not disposed to risk the certain advantages he had already gained by
a final appeal to arms. And Henry was still less inclined to peril
all--his capital, perhaps his crown--on the hazard of a single cast.

[Sidenote: NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE.]

There were many circumstances which tended to make both monarchs prefer
a more peaceful arbitrament of their quarrel, and to disgust them with
the war. Among these was the ruinous state of their finances.[242] When
Ruy Gomez de Silva, as has been already stated, was sent to Spain by
Philip, he was commanded to avail himself of every expedient that could
be devised to raise money. Offices were put up for sale to the highest
bidder. The public revenues were mortgaged. Large sums were obtained
from merchants at exorbitant rates of interest. Forced loans were
exacted from individuals, especially from such as were known to have
received large returns by the late arrivals from the New World. Three
hundred thousand ducats were raised on the security of the coming fair
at Villalon. The Regent Joanna was persuaded to sell her yearly pension,
assigned her on the _alcavala_, for a downright sum to meet the
exigencies of the state. Goods were obtained from the king of Portugal,
in order to be sent to Flanders for the profit to be raised on the
sale.[243] Such were the wretched devices by which Philip, who inherited
this policy of temporizing expedients from his father, endeavored to
replenish his exhausted treasury. Besides the sums drawn from Castile,
the king obtained also no less than a million and a half of ducats, as
an extraordinary grant from the states of the Netherlands.[244] Yet
these sums, large as they were, were soon absorbed by the expense of
keeping armies on foot in France and in Italy. Philip's correspondence
with his ministers teems with representations of the low state of his
finances, of the arrears due to his troops, and the necessity of
immediate supplies to save him from bankruptcy. The prospects the
ministers hold out to him in return are anything but encouraging.[245]

Another circumstance which made both princes desire the termination of
the war was the disturbed state of their own kingdoms. The Protestant
heresy had already begun to rear its formidable crest in the
Netherlands; and the Huguenots were beginning to claim the notice of the
French government. Henry the Second, who was penetrated, as much as
Philip himself, with the spirit of the Inquisition, longed for leisure
to crush the heretical doctrines in the bud. In this pious purpose he
was encouraged by Paul the Fourth, who, now that he was himself
restrained from levying war against his neighbors, seemed resolved that
no one else should claim that indulgence. He sent legates to both Henry
and Philip, conjuring them, instead of warring with each other, to turn
their arms against the heretics in their dominions, who were sapping the
foundations of the Church.[246]

The pacific disposition of the two monarchs was, moreover, fostered by
the French prisoners, and especially by Montmorency, whose authority had
been such at court, that Charles the Fifth declared "his capture was
more important than would have been that of the king himself."[247] The
old constable was most anxious to return to his own country, where he
saw with uneasiness the ascendancy which his absence and the
prolongation of the war were giving to his rival, Guise, in the royal
counsels. Through him negotiations were opened with the French court,
until, Henry the Second thinking, with good reason, that these
negotiations would be better conducted by a regular congress than by
prisoners in the custody of his enemies, commissioners were appointed on
both sides, to arrange the terms of accommodation.[248] Montmorency and
his fellow-captive, Marshal St. André, were included in the commission.
But the person of most importance in it, on the part of France, was the
cardinal of Lorraine, brother of the duke of Guise, a man of a subtle,
intriguing temper, and one who, like the rest of his family,
notwithstanding his pacific demonstrations, may be said to have
represented the war party in France[249]

On the part of Spain the agents selected were the men most conspicuous
for talent and authority in the kingdom; the names of some of whom,
whether for good or for evil report, remain immortal on the page of
history. Among these were the duke of Alva and his great antagonist,--as
he became afterwards in the Netherlands,--William of Orange. But the
principal person in the commission, the man who in fact directed it, was
Anthony Perrenot, bishop of Arras, better known by his later title of
Cardinal Granvelle. He was son of the celebrated chancellor of that name
under Charles the Fifth, by whom he was early trained, not so much to
the duties of the ecclesiastical profession as of public life. He
profited so well by the instruction, that, in the emperor's time, he
succeeded his father in the royal confidence, and surpassed him in his
talent for affairs. His accommodating temper combined with his zeal for
the interests of Philip to recommend Granvelle to the favor of that
monarch; and his insinuating address and knowledge of character well
qualified him for conducting a negotiation where there were so many
jarring feelings to be brought into concord, so many hostile and
perplexing interests to be reconciled.

As a suspension of hostilities was agreed on during the continuance of
the negotiations, it was decided to remove the armies from the
neighborhood of each other, where a single spark might at any time lead
to a general explosion. A still stronger earnest was given of their
pacific intentions, by both the monarchs disbanding part of their
foreign mercenaries, whose services were purchased at a ruinous cost,
that made one of the great evils of the war.

The congress met on the fifteenth of October, 1558, at the abbey of
Cercamps, near Cambray. Between parties so well disposed, it might be
thought that some general terms of accommodation would soon be settled.
But the war, which ran back pretty far into Charles the Fifth's time,
had continued so long, that many territories had changed masters during
the contest, and it was not easy to adjust the respective claims to
them. The duke of Savoy's dominions, for example, had passed into the
hands of Henry the Second, who, moreover, asserted an hereditary right
to them through his grandmother. Yet it was not possible for Philip to
abandon his ally, the man whom he had placed at the head of his armies.
But the greatest obstacle was Calais. "If we return without the recovery
of Calais," said the English envoys, who also took part in this
congress, "we shall be stoned to death by the people."[250]

[Sidenote: MARY'S DEATH.]

Philip supported the claim of England; and yet it was evident that
France would never relinquish a post so important to herself, which,
after so many years of hope deferred, had at last come again into her
possession. While engaged in the almost hopeless task of adjusting these
differences, an event occurred which suspended the negotiations for a
time, and exercised an important influence on the affairs of Europe.
This was the death of one of the parties to the war, Queen Mary of
England.

Mary's health had been fast declining of late, under the pressure of
both mental and bodily disease. The loss of Calais bore heavily on her
spirits, as she thought of the reproach it would bring on her reign, and
the increased unpopularity it would draw upon herself. "When I die," she
said, in the strong language since made familiar to Englishmen by the
similar expression of their great admiral, "Calais will be found written
on my heart."[251]

Philip, who was not fully apprised of the queen's low condition, early
in November sent the count, afterwards duke, of Feria as his envoy to
London, with letters for Mary. This nobleman, who had married one of the
queen's maids of honor, stood high in the favor of his master. With
courtly manners, and a magnificent way of living, he combined a
shrewdness and solidity of judgment, that eminently fitted him for his
present mission. The queen received with great joy the letters which he
brought her, though too ill to read them. Feria, seeing the low state of
Mary's health, was earnest with the council to secure the succession for
Elizabeth.

He had the honor of supping with the princess at her residence in
Hatfield, about eighteen miles from London. The Spaniard enlarged, in
the course of conversation, on the good-will of his master to Elizabeth,
as shown in the friendly offices he had rendered her during her
imprisonment, and his desire to have her succeed to the crown. The envoy
did not add that this desire was prompted not so much by the king's
concern for the interests of Elizabeth as by his jealousy of the French,
who seemed willing to countenance the pretensions of Mary Stuart, the
wife of the dauphin, to the English throne.[252] The princess
acknowledged the protection she had received from Philip in her
troubles. "But for her present prospects," she said, "she was indebted
neither to the king nor to the English lords, however much these latter
might vaunt their fidelity. It was to the people that she owed them, and
on the people she relied."[253] This answer of Elizabeth furnishes the
key to her success.

The penetrating eye of the envoy soon perceived that the English
princess was under evil influences. The persons most in her confidence,
he wrote, were understood to have a decided leaning to the Lutheran
heresy, and he augured most unfavorably for the future prospects of the
kingdom.

On the seventeenth of November, 1558, after a brief, but most disastrous
reign, Queen Mary died. Her fate had been a hard one. Unimpeachable in
her private life, and, however misguided, with deeply-seated religious
principles, she has yet left a name held in more general execration than
any other on the roll of English sovereigns. One obvious way of
accounting for this, doubtless, is by the spirit of persecution which
hung like a dark cloud over her reign. And this not merely on account of
the persecution; for that was common with the line of Tudor; but because
it was directed against the professors of a religion which came to be
the established religion of the country. Thus the blood of the martyr
became the seed of a great and powerful church, ready through all after
time to bear testimony to the ruthless violence of its oppressor.

There was still another cause of Mary's unpopularity. The daughter of
Katharine of Aragon could not fail to be nurtured in a reverence for the
illustrious line from which she was descended. The education begun in
the cradle was continued in later years. When the young princess was
betrothed to her cousin, Charles the Fifth, it was stipulated that she
should be made acquainted with the language and the institutions of
Castile, and should even wear the costume of the country. "And who,"
exclaimed Henry the Eighth, "is so well fitted to instruct her in all
this as the queen, her mother?" Even after the match with her imperial
suitor was broken off by his marriage with the Portuguese infanta,
Charles still continued to take a lively interest in the fortunes of his
young kinswoman; while she, in her turn, naturally looked to the
emperor, as her nearest relative, for counsel and support. Thus drawn
towards Spain by the ties of kindred, by sympathy, and by interest, Mary
became in truth more of a Spanish than an English woman; and when all
this was completed by the odious Spanish match, and she gave her hand to
Philip the Second, the last tie seemed to be severed which had bound her
to her native land. Thenceforth she remained an alien in the midst of
her own subjects.--Very different was the fate of her sister and
successor, Elizabeth, who ruled over her people like a true-hearted
English queen, under no influence, and with no interests distinct from
theirs. She was requited for it by the most loyal devotion on their
part; while round her throne have gathered those patriotic recollections
which, in spite of her many errors, still render her name dear to
Englishmen.

On the death of her sister, Elizabeth, without opposition, ascended the
throne of her ancestors. It may not be displeasing to the reader to see
the portrait of her sketched by the Venetian minister at this period, or
rather two years earlier, when she was twenty-three years of age. "The
princess," he says, "is as beautiful in mind as she is in body; though
her countenance is rather pleasing from its expression, than
beautiful.[254] She is large and well-made; her complexion clear, and of
an olive tint; her eyes are fine, and her hands, on which she prides
herself, small and delicate. She has an excellent genius, with much
address and self-command, as was abundantly shown in the severe trials
to which she was exposed in the earlier part of her life. In her temper
she is haughty and imperious, qualities inherited from her father, King
Henry the Eighth, who, from her resemblance to himself, is said to have
regarded her with peculiar fondness."[255]--He had, it must be owned, an
uncommon way of showing it.

[Sidenote: ACCESSION OF ELIZABETH.]

One of the first acts of Elizabeth was to write an elegant Latin epistle
to Philip, in which she acquainted him with her accession to the crown,
and expressed the hope that they should continue to maintain "the same
friendly relations as their ancestors had done, and, if possible, more
friendly."

Philip received the tidings of his wife's death at Brussels, where her
obsequies were celebrated, with great solemnity, on the same day with
her funeral in London. All outward show of respect was paid to her
memory. But it is doing no injustice to Philip to suppose that his heart
was not very deeply touched by the loss of a wife so many years older
than himself, whose temper had been soured, and whose personal
attractions, such as they were, had long since faded under the pressure
of disease. Still, it was not without feelings of deep regret that the
ambitious monarch saw the sceptre of England--barren though it had
proved to him--thus suddenly snatched from his grasp.

We have already seen that Philip, during his residence in the country,
had occasion more than once to interpose his good offices in behalf of
Elizabeth. It was perhaps the friendly relation in which he thus stood
to her, quite as much as her personal qualities, that excited in the
king a degree of interest which seems to have provoked something like
jealousy in the bosom of his queen.[256] However this may be, motives of
a very different character from those founded on sentiment now
determined him to retain, if possible, his hold on England, by
transferring to Elizabeth the connection which had subsisted with Mary.

A month had not elapsed since Mary's remains were laid in Westminster
Abbey, when the royal widower made direct offers, through his
ambassador, Feria, for the hand of her successor. Yet his ardor did not
precipitate him into any unqualified declaration of his passion; on the
contrary, his proposals were limited by some very prudent conditions.

It was to be understood that Elizabeth must be a Roman Catholic, and, if
not one already, must repudiate her errors and become one. She was to
obtain a dispensation from the pope for the marriage. Philip was to be
allowed to visit Spain, whenever he deemed it necessary for the
interests of that kingdom;--a provision which seems to show that Mary's
over-fondness, or her jealousy, must have occasioned him some
inconvenience on that score. It was further to be stipulated, that the
issue of the marriage should not, as was agreed in the contract with
Mary, inherit the Netherlands, which were to pass to his son Don Carlos,
the prince of Asturias.

Feria was directed to make these proposals by word of mouth, not in
writing, "although," adds his considerate master, "it is no disgrace for
a man to have his proposals rejected, when they are founded, not on
worldly considerations, but on zeal for his Maker and the interests of
religion."

Elizabeth received the offer of Philip's hand, qualified as it was, in
the most gracious manner. She told the ambassador, indeed, that, "in a
matter of this kind, she could take no step without consulting her
parliament. But his master might rest assured, that, should she be
induced to marry, there was no man she should prefer to him."[257]
Philip seems to have been contented with the encouragement thus given,
and shortly after he addressed Elizabeth a letter, written with his own
hand, in which he endeavored to impress on her how much he had at heart
the successes of his ambassador's mission.

The course of events in England, however, soon showed that such success
was not to be relied on, and that Feria's prognostics in regard to the
policy of Elizabeth were well founded. Parliament soon entered on the
measures which ended in the subversion of the Roman Catholic, and the
restoration of the Reformed religion. And it was very evident that these
measures, if not originally dictated by the queen, must at least have
received her sanction.

Philip, in consequence, took counsel with two of his ministers, on whom
he most relied, as to the expediency of addressing Elizabeth on the
subject, and telling her plainly, that, unless she openly disavowed the
proceedings of parliament, the marriage could not take place.[258] Her
vanity should be soothed by the expressions of his regret at being
obliged to relinquish the hopes of her hand. But, as her lover modestly
remarked, after this candid statement of all the consequences before
her, whatever the result might be, she would have no one to blame but
herself.[259] His sage advisers, probably not often called to deliberate
on questions of this delicate nature, entirely concurred in opinion with
their master. In any event, they regarded it as impossible that he
should wed a Protestant.

What effect this frank remonstrance had on the queen we are not told.
Certain it is, Philip's suit no longer sped so favorably as before.
Elizabeth, throwing off all disguise, plainly told Feria, when pressed
on the matter, that she felt great scruples as to seeking a dispensation
from the pope;[260] and soon after she openly declared in parliament,
what she was in the habit of repeating so often, that she had no other
purpose but to live and die a maid.[261]--It can hardly be supposed that
Elizabeth entertained serious thoughts, at any time, of marrying Philip.
If she encouraged his addresses, it was only until she felt herself so
securely seated on the throne, that she was independent of the ill-will
she would incur by their rejection. It was a game in which the heart,
probably, formed no part of the stake on either side. In this game, it
must be confessed, the English queen showed herself the better player of
the two.

[Sidenote: TREATY OF CATEAU-CAMBRESIS.]

Philip bore his disappointment with great equanimity. He expressed his
regret to Elizabeth that she should have decided in a way so contrary to
what the public interests seemed to demand. But since it appeared to her
otherwise, he should acquiesce, and only hoped that the same end might
be attained by the continuance of their friendship.[262] With all this
philosophy, we may well believe that, with a character like that of
Philip, some bitterness must have remained in the heart; and that, very
probably, feelings of a personal nature mingled with those of a
political in the long hostilities which he afterwards carried on with
the English queen.

In the month of February, the conferences for the treaty of peace had
been resumed, and the place of meeting changed from the abbey of
Cercamps to Cateau-Cambresis. The negotiations were urged forward with
greater earnestness than before, as both the monarchs were more sorely
pressed by their necessities. Philip, in particular, was so largely in
arrears to his army, that he frankly told his ministers "he was on the
brink of ruin, from which nothing but a peace could save him."[263] It
might be supposed that, in this state of things, he would be placed in a
disadvantageous attitude for arranging terms with his adversary. But
Philip and his ministers put the best face possible on their affairs,
affecting a confidence in their resources, before their allies as well
as their enemies, which they were far from feeling; like some
half-famished garrison, which makes a brave show of its scanty stock of
supplies, in order to win better terms from the besiegers.[264]

All the difficulties were at length cleared away, except the vexed
question of Calais. The English queen, it was currently said in the
camp, would cut off the head of any minister who abandoned it. Mary, the
young queen of Scots, had just been married to the French dauphin,
afterwards Francis the Second. It was proposed that the eldest daughter
born of this union should be united to the eldest son of Elizabeth, and
bring with her Calais as a dowry. In this way, the place would be
restored to England without dishonor to France.[265] Such were the wild
expedients to which the parties resorted in the hope of extricating
themselves from their embarrassment!

At length, seeing the absolute necessity of bringing the matter to an
issue, Philip ordered the Spanish plenipotentiaries to write his final
instructions to Feria, his minister in London. The envoy was authorized
to say, that, although England had lost Calais through her own
negligence, yet Philip would stand faithfully by her for the recovery of
it. But, on the other hand, she must be prepared to support him with her
whole strength by land and by sea, and that not for a single campaign,
but for the war so long as it lasted. The government should ponder well
whether the prize would be worth the cost. Feria must bring the matter
home to the queen, and lead her, if possible, to the desired conclusion;
but so that she might appear to come to it by her own suggestion rather
than by his. The responsibility must be left with her.[266] The letter
of the plenipotentiaries, which is a very long one, is a model in its
way, and shows that, in some particulars, the science of diplomacy has
gained little since the sixteenth century.

Elizabeth needed no argument to make her weary of a war which hung like
a dark cloud on the morning of her reign. Her disquietude had been
increased by the fact of Scotland having become a party to the war; and
hostilities, with little credit to that country, had broken out along
the borders. Her own kingdom was in no condition to allow her to make
the extraordinary efforts demanded by Philip. Yet it was plain if she
did not make them, or consent to come into the treaty, she must be left
to carry on the war by herself. Under these circumstances, the English
government at last consented to an arrangement, which, if it did not
save Calais, so far saved appearances that it might satisfy the nation.
It was agreed that Calais should be restored at the end of eight years.
If France failed to do this, she was to pay five hundred thousand crowns
to England, whose claims to Calais would not, however, be affected by
such a payment. Should either of the parties, or their subjects, during
that period, do anything in contravention of this treaty, or in
violation of the peace between the two countries, the offending party
should forfeit all claim to the disputed territory.[267] It was not very
probable that eight years would elapse without affording some plausible
pretext to France, under such a provision, for keeping her hold on
Calais.

The treaty with England was signed on the second of April, 1559. On the
day following was signed that between France and Spain. By the
provisions of this treaty, the allies of Philip, Savoy, Mantua, Genoa,
were reinstated in the possession of the territories of which they had
been stripped in the first years of the war. Four or five places of
importance in Savoy were alone reserved, to be held as guaranties by the
French king, until his claim to the inheritance of that kingdom was
determined.

The conquests made by Philip in Picardy were to be exchanged for those
gained by the French in Italy and the Netherlands. The exchange was
greatly for the benefit of Philip. In the time of Charles the Fifth, the
Spanish arms had experienced some severe reverses, and the king now
received more than two hundred towns in return for the five places he
held in Picardy.[268]

[Sidenote: TREATY OF CATEAU-CAMBRESIS.]

Terms so disadvantageous to France roused the indignation of the duke of
Guise, who told Henry plainly, that a stroke of his pen would cost the
country more than thirty years of war. "Give me the poorest of the
places you are to surrender," said he, "and I will undertake to hold it
against all the armies of Spain!"[269] But Henry sighed for peace, and
for the return of his friend, the constable. He affected much deference
to the opinions of the duke. But he wrote to Montmorency that the Guises
were at their old tricks,[270]--and he ratified the treaty.

The day on which the plenipotentiaries of the three great powers had
completed their work, they went in solemn procession to the church, and
returned thanks to the Almighty for the happy consummation of their
labors. The treaty was then made public; and, notwithstanding the
unfavorable import of the terms to France, the peace, if we except some
ambitious spirits, who would have found their account in the continuance
of hostilities, was welcomed with joy by the whole nation. In this
sentiment all the parties to the war participated. The more remote, like
Spain, rejoiced to be delivered from a contest which made such large
drains on their finances; while France had an additional reason for
desiring peace, now that her own territory had become the theatre of
war.

The reputation which Philip had acquired by his campaigns was greatly
heightened by the result of his negotiations. The whole course of these
negotiations--long and intricate as it was--is laid open to us in the
correspondence fortunately preserved among the papers of Granvelle; and
the student who explores these pages may probably rise from them with
the conviction that the Spanish plenipotentiaries showed an address, a
knowledge of the men they had to deal with, and a consummate policy, in
which neither their French nor English rivals were a match for them. The
negotiation all passed under the eyes of Philip. Every move in the game,
if not by his suggestion, had been made at least with his sanction. The
result placed him in honorable contrast to Henry the Second, who, while
Philip had stood firmly by his allies, had, in his eagerness for peace,
abandoned those of France to their fate.

The early campaigns of Philip had wiped away the disgrace caused by the
closing campaigns of Charles the Fifth; and by the treaty he had
negotiated, the number of towns which he lost was less than that of
provinces which he gained.[271] Thus he had shown himself as skilful in
counsel as he had been successful in the field. Victorious in Picardy
and in Naples, he had obtained the terms of a victor from the king of
France, and humbled the arrogance of Rome, in a war to which he had been
driven in self-defence.[272] Faithful to his allies and formidable to
his foes, there was probably no period of Philip's life in which he
possessed so much real consideration in the eyes of Europe, as at the
time of signing the treaty of Cateau-Cambresis.

In order to cement the union between the different powers, and to
conciliate the good-will of the French nation to the treaty by giving it
somewhat of the air of a marriage contract, it was proposed that an
alliance should take place between the royal houses of France and Spain.
It was first arranged that the hand of Henry's daughter, the Princess
Elizabeth, should be given to Carlos, the son and heir of Philip. The
parties were of nearly the same age, being each about fourteen years
old. Now that all prospect of the English match had vanished, it was
thought to be a greater compliment to the French to substitute the
father for the son, the monarch himself for the heir apparent, in the
marriage treaty. The disparity of years between Philip and Elizabeth was
not such as to present any serious objection. The proposition was said
to have come from the French negotiators. The Spanish envoys replied,
that, notwithstanding their master's repugnance to entering again into
wedlock, yet, from his regard to the French monarch, and his desire for
the public weal, he would consent to waive his scruples, and accept the
hand of the French princess, with the same dowry which had been promised
to his son Don Carlos.[273]

Queen Elizabeth seems to have been not a little piqued by the
intelligence that Philip had so soon consoled himself for the failure of
his suit to her. "Your master," said she, in a petulant tone, to Feria,
"must have been much in love with me not to be able to wait four
months!" The ambassador answered somewhat bluntly, by throwing the blame
of the affair on the queen herself. "Not so," she retorted, "I never
gave your king a decided answer." "True," said Feria, "the refusal was
only implied, for I would not urge your highness to a downright 'No,'
lest it might prove a cause of offence between so great princes."[274]

In June, 1559, the duke of Alva entered France for the purpose of
claiming the royal bride, and espousing her in the name of his master.
He was accompanied by Ruy Gomez, count of Melito,--better known by his
title of prince of Eboli,--by the prince of Orange, the Count Egmont,
and other noblemen, whose high rank and character might give lustre to
the embassy. He was received in great state by Henry, who, with his
whole court, seemed anxious to show to the envoy every mark of respect
that could testify their satisfaction with the object of his mission.
The duke displayed all the stately demeanor of a true Spanish hidalgo.
Although he conformed to the French usage by saluting the ladies of the
court, he declined taking this liberty with his future queen, or
covering himself, as repeatedly urged, in her presence,--a piece of
punctilio greatly admired by the French, as altogether worthy of the
noble Castilian breeding.[275]

[Sidenote: DEATH OF HENRY THE SECOND.]

On the twenty-fourth of June, the marriage of the young princess was
celebrated in the church of St. Mary. King Henry gave his daughter away.
The duke of Alva acted as his sovereign's proxy. At the conclusion of
the ceremony, the prince of Eboli placed on the finger of the princess,
as a memento from her lord, a diamond ring of inestimable value; and the
beautiful Elizabeth, the destined bride of Don Carlos, became the bride
of the king his father. It was an ominous union, destined, in its
mysterious consequences, to supply a richer theme for the pages of
romance than for those of history.

The wedding was followed by a succession of brilliant entertainments,
the chief of which was the tournament,--the most splendid pageant of
that spectacle-loving age. Henry was, at that time, busily occupied with
the work of exterminating the Protestant heresy, which, as already
noticed, had begun to gather formidable head in the capital of his
dominions.[276] On the evening of the fifteenth of June, he attended a
session of the parliament, and arrested some of its principal members
for the boldness of their speech in his presence. He ordered them into
confinement, deferring their sentence till the termination of the
engrossing business of the tourney.

The king delighted in these martial exercises, in which he could display
his showy person and matchless horsemanship in the presence of the
assembled beauty and fashion of his court.[277] He fully maintained his
reputation on this occasion, carrying off one prize after another, and
bearing down all who encountered his lance. Towards evening, when the
games had drawn to a close, he observed the young count of Montgomery, a
Scotch noble, the captain of his guard, leaning on his lance, as yet
unbroken. The king challenged the cavalier to run a course with him for
his lady's sake. In vain the queen, with a melancholy boding of some
disaster, besought her lord to remain content with the laurels he had
already won. Henry obstinately urged his fate, and compelled the count,
though extremely loth, to take the saddle. The champions met with a
furious shock in the middle of the lists. Montgomery was a rude jouster.
He directed his lance with such force against the helmet of his
antagonist, that the bars of the visor gave way. The lance splintered; a
fragment struck the king with such violence on the temple as to lay bare
the eye. The unhappy monarch reeled in his saddle, and would have fallen
but for the assistance of the constable, the duke of Guise, and other
nobles, who bore him in their arms senseless from the lists. Henry's
wound was mortal. He lingered ten days in great agony, and expired on
the ninth of July, in the forty-second year of his age, and the
thirteenth of his reign. It was an ill augury for the nuptials of
Elizabeth.[278]

The tidings of the king's death were received with demonstrations of
sorrow throughout the kingdom. He had none of those solid qualities
which make either a great or a good prince. But he had the showy
qualities which are perhaps more effectual to secure the affections of a
people as fond of show as the nation whom Henry governed.[279] There
were others in the kingdom, however,--that growing sect of the
Huguenots,--who looked on the monarch's death with very different
eyes,--who rejoiced in it as a deliverance from persecution. They had
little cause to rejoice. The sceptre passed into the hands of a line of
imbecile princes, or rather of their mother, the famous Catherine de
Medicis, who reigned in their stead, and who ultimately proved herself
the most merciless foe the Huguenots ever encountered.




CHAPTER IX.

LATTER DAYS OF CHARLES THE FIFTH.

Charles at Yuste.--His Mode of Life.--Interest in Public
Affairs.--Celebrates his Obsequies.--Last Illness.--Death and Character.

1556-1558.


While the occurrences related in the preceding chapter were passing, an
event took place which, had it happened earlier, would have had an
important influence on the politics of Europe, and the news of which,
when it did happen, was everywhere received with the greatest interest.
This event was the death of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, in his
monastic retreat at Yuste. In the earlier pages of our narrative, we
have seen how that monarch, after his abdication of the throne, withdrew
to the Jeronymite convent among the hills of Estremadura. The reader may
now feel some interest in following him thither, and in observing in
what manner he accommodated himself to the change, and passed the
closing days of his eventful life. The picture I am enabled to give of
it will differ in some respects from those of former historians, who
wrote when the Archives of Simancas, which afford the most authentic
records for the narrative, were inaccessible to the scholar, native as
well as foreign.[280]

[Sidenote: CHARLES AT YUSTE.]

Charles, as we have seen, had early formed the determination to
relinquish at some future time the cares of royalty, and devote
himself, in some lonely retreat to the good work of his salvation. His
consort, the Empress Isabella, as appears from his own statement at
Yuste, had avowed the same pious purpose.[281] She died, however, too
early to execute her plan; and Charles was too much occupied with his
ambitious enterprises to accomplish his object until the autumn of 1555,
when, broken in health and spirits, and disgusted with the world, he
resigned the sceptre he had held for forty years, and withdrew to a life
of obscurity and repose.

The spot he had selected for his residence was situated about seven
leagues from the city of Plasencia, on the slopes of the mountain chain
that traverses the province of Estremadura. There, nestling among the
rugged hills, clothed with thick woods of chestnut and oak, the
Jeronymite convent was sheltered from the rude breezes of the north.
Towards the south, the land sloped by a gradual declivity, till it
terminated in a broad expanse, the _Vera_ of Plasencia, as it was
called, which, fertilized by the streams of the sierra, contrasted
strongly in its glowing vegetation with the wild character of the
mountain scenery. It was a spot well fitted for such as would withdraw
themselves from commerce with the world, and consecrate their days to
prayer and holy meditation. The Jeronymite fraternity had prospered in
this peaceful abode. Many of the monks had acquired reputation for
sanctity, and some of them for learning, the fruits of which might be
seen in a large collection of manuscripts preserved in the library of
the monastery. Benefactions were heaped on the brotherhood. They became
proprietors of considerable tracts of land in the neighborhood, and they
liberally employed their means in dispensing alms to the poor who sought
it at the gate of the convent. Not long before Charles took up his
residence among them, they had enlarged their building by an extensive
quadrangle, which displayed some architectural elegance in the
construction of its cloisters.

Three years before the emperor repaired thither, he sent a skilful
architect to provide such accommodations as he had designed for himself.
These were very simple. A small building, containing eight rooms, four
on each floor, was raised against the southern wall of the monastery.
The rooms were low, and of a moderate size. They were protected by
porticos, which sheltered them on two sides from the rays of the sun,
while an open gallery, which passed through the centre of the house,
afforded means for its perfect ventilation. But Charles, with his gouty
constitution, was more afraid of the cold damps than of heat; and he
took care to have the apartments provided with fire-places, a luxury
little known in this temperate region.

A window opened from his chamber directly into the chapel of the
monastery; and through this, when confined to his bed, and too ill to
attend mass, he could see the elevation of the host. The furniture of
the dwelling--according to an authority usually followed--was of the
simplest kind; and Charles, we are told, took no better care of his
gouty limbs than to provide himself with an arm-chair, or rather half a
chair, which would not have brought four reals at auction.[282] The
inventory of the furniture of Yuste tells a very different story.
Instead of "half an arm-chair," we find, besides other chairs lined with
velvet, two arm-chairs especially destined to the emperor's service. One
of these was of a peculiar construction, and was accommodated with no
less than six cushions and a footstool, for the repose of his gouty
limbs. His wardrobe showed a similar attention to his personal comfort.
For one item we find no less than sixteen robes of silk and velvet,
lined with ermine or eider-down, or the soft hair of the Barbary goat.
The decorations of his apartment were on not merely a comfortable, but a
luxurious scale;--canopies of velvet; carpets from Turkey and Alcaraz;
suits of tapestry, of which twenty-five pieces are specified, richly
wrought with figures of flowers and animals. Twelve hangings, of the
finest black cloth, were for the emperor's bed-chamber, which, since his
mother's death, had been always dressed in mourning. Among the ornaments
of his rooms were four large clocks of elaborate workmanship. He had
besides a number of pocket-watches, then a greater rarity than at
present. He was curious in regard to his timepieces, and took care to
provide for their regularity by bringing the manufacturer of them in his
train to Yuste. Charles was served on silver. Even the meanest utensils
for his kitchen and his sleeping apartment were of the same costly
material, amounting to nearly fourteen thousand ounces in weight.[283]

The inventory contains rather a meagre show of books, which were for the
most part of a devotional character. But Charles's love of art was
visible in a small but choice collection of paintings, which he brought
with him to adorn the walls of his retreat. Nine of these were from the
pencil of Titian. Charles held the works of the great Venetian in the
highest honor, and was desirous that by his hand his likeness should be
transmitted to posterity. The emperor had brought with him to Yuste four
portraits of himself and the empress by Titian; and among the other
pieces by the same master were some of his best pictures. One of these
was the famous "Gloria," in which Charles and the empress appear, in the
midst of the celestial throng, supported by angels, and in an attitude
of humble adoration.[284] He had the painting hung at the foot of his
bed, or according to another account, over the great altar in the
chapel. It is said, he would gaze long and fondly on this picture, which
filled him with the most tender recollections; and as he dwelt on the
image of one who had been so dear to him on earth, he may have looked
forward to his reunion with her in the heavenly mansions, as the artist
had here depicted him.[285]

[Sidenote: CHARLES AT YUSTE.]

A stairway, or rather an inclined plane, suited to the weakness of
Charles's limbs, led from the gallery of his house to the gardens below.
These were surrounded by a high wall, which completely secluded him from
observation from without. The garden was filled with orange, citron, and
fig trees, and various aromatic plants that grew luxuriantly in the
genial soil. The emperor had a taste for horticulture, and took much
pleasure in tending the young plants and pruning his trees. His garden
afforded him also the best means for taking exercise; and in fine
weather he would walk along an avenue of lofty chestnut-trees, that led
to a pretty chapel in the neighboring woods, the ruins of which may be
seen at this day. Among the trees, one is pointed out,--an overgrown
walnut, still throwing its shade far and wide over the ground,--under
whose branches the pensive monarch would sit and meditate on the dim
future, or perhaps on the faded glories of the past.

Charles had once been the most accomplished horseman of his time. He had
brought with him to Yuste a pony and a mule, in the hope of being able
to get some exercise in the saddle. But the limbs that had bestrode day
after day, without fatigue, the heavy war-horse of Flanders and the
wildest genet of Andalusia, were unable now to endure the motion of a
poor palfrey; and, after a solitary experiment in the saddle on his
arrival at Yuste, when he nearly fainted, he abandoned it for ever.[286]

There are few spots that might now be visited with more interest, than
that which the great emperor had selected as his retreat from the thorny
cares of government. And until within a few years the traveller would
have received from the inmates of the convent the same hospitable
welcome which they had always been ready to give to the stranger. But in
1809 the place was sacked by the French; and the fierce soldiery of
Soult converted the pile, with its venerable cloisters, into a heap of
blackened ruins. Even the collection of manuscripts, piled up with so
much industry by the brethren, did not escape the general doom. The
_palace_ of the emperor, as the simple monks loved to call his dwelling,
had hardly a better fate, though it came from the hands of Charles's own
countrymen, the liberals of Cuacos. By these patriots the lower floor of
the mansion was turned into stables for their horses. The rooms above
were used as magazines for grain. The mulberry-leaves were gathered from
the garden to furnish material for the silkworm, who was permitted to
wind his cocoon in the deserted chambers of royalty. Still the great
features of nature remain the same as in Charles's day. The bald peaks
of the sierra still rise above the ruins of the monastery. The shaggy
sides of the hills still wear their wild forest drapery. Far below, the
eye of the traveller ranges over the beautiful _Vera_ of Plasencia,
which glows in the same exuberant vegetation as of yore; and the
traveller, as he wanders among the ruined porticos and desolate arcades
of the palace, drinks in the odors of a thousand aromatic plants and
wild-flowers that have shot up into a tangled wilderness, where once was
the garden of the imperial recluse.[287]

Charles, though borne across the mountains in a litter, had suffered
greatly in his long and laborious journey from Valladolid. He passed
some time in the neighboring village of Xarandilla, and thence, after
taking leave of the greater part of his weeping retinue, he proceeded
with the remainder to the monastery of Yuste. It was on the third of
February, 1557, that he entered the abode which was to prove his final
resting-place.[288] The monks of Yuste had been much flattered by the
circumstance of Charles having shown such a preference for their
convent. As he entered the chapel, Te Deum was chanted by the whole
brotherhood; and when the emperor had prostrated himself before the
altar, the monks gathered round him, anxious to pay him their respectful
obeisance. Charles received them graciously, and, after examining his
quarters, professed himself well pleased with the accommodations
prepared for him. His was not a fickle temper. Slow in forming his
plans, he was slower in changing them. To the last day of his residence
at Yuste,--whatever may have been said to the contrary,--he seems to
have been well satisfied with the step he had taken and with the spot he
had selected.

[Sidenote: HIS MODE OF LIFE.]

From the first, he prepared to conform, as far as his health would
permit, to the religious observances of the monastery. Not that he
proposed to limit himself to the narrow circumstances of an ordinary
friar. The number of his retinue that still remained with him was at
least fifty, mostly Flemings;[289] a number not greater, certainly, than
that maintained by many a private gentleman of the country. But among
these we recognize those officers of state who belong more properly to a
princely establishment than to the cell of the recluse. There was the
major-domo, the almoner, the keeper of the wardrobe, the keeper of the
jewels, the chamberlains, two watchmakers, several secretaries, the
physician, the confessor, besides cooks, confectioners, bakers, brewers,
game-keepers, and numerous valets. Some of these followers seem not to
have been quite so content as their master with their secluded way of
life, and to have cast many a longing look to the pomps and vanities of
the world they had left behind them. At least such were the feelings of
Quixada, the emperor's major-domo, in whom he placed the greatest
confidence, and who had the charge of his household. "His majesty's
bedroom," writes the querulous functionary, "is good enough; but the
view from it is poor,--barren mountains, covered with rocks and stunted
oaks; a garden of moderate size, with a few straggling orange-trees; the
roads scarcely passable, so steep and stony; the only water, a torrent
rushing from the mountains; a dreary solitude!" The low, cheerless
rooms, he predicts, must necessarily be damp, boding no good to the
emperor's infirmity.[290] "As to the friars," observes the secretary,
Gaztelu, in the same amiable mood, "please God that his majesty may be
able to tolerate them,--which will be no easy matter; for they are an
importunate race."[291] It is evident that Charles's followers would
have been very willing to exchange the mortifications of the monastic
life for the good cheer and gaiety of Brussels.

The worthy prior of the convent, in addressing Charles, greeted him with
the title of _paternidad_, till one of the fraternity suggested to him
the propriety of substituting that of _magestad_.[292] Indeed, to this
title Charles had good right, for he was still emperor. His resignation
of the imperial crown, which, as we have seen, so soon followed that of
the Spanish, had not taken effect, in consequence of the diet not being
in session at the time when his envoy, the prince of Orange, was to have
presented himself at Ratisbon, in the spring of 1557. The war with
France made Philip desirous that his father should remain lord of
Germany for some time longer. It was not, therefore, until more than a
year after Charles's arrival at Yuste, that the resignation was accepted
by the diet, at Frankfort, on the twenty-eighth of February, 1558.
Charles was still emperor, and continued to receive the imperial title
in all his correspondence.[293]

We have pretty full accounts of the manner in which the monarch employed
his time. He attended mass every morning in the chapel, when his health
permitted. Mass was followed by dinner, which he took early and alone,
preferring this to occupying a seat in the refectory of the convent. He
was fond of carving for himself, though his gouty fingers were not
always in the best condition for this exercise.[294] His physician was
usually in attendance during the repast, and might, at least, observe
how little his patient, who had not the virtue of abstinence, regarded
his prescriptions. The Fleming, Van Male, the emperor's favorite
gentleman of the chamber, was also not unfrequently present. He was a
good scholar; and his discussions with the doctor served to beguile the
tediousness of their master's solitary meal. The conversation frequently
turned on some subject of natural history, of which the emperor was
fond; and when the parties could not agree, the confessor, a man of
learning, was called in to settle the dispute.

After dinner,--an important meal, which occupied much time with
Charles,--he listened to some passages from a favorite theologian. In
his worldly days, the book he most affected is said to have been
Comines's Life of Louis the Eleventh,[295]--a prince whose maxim, "_Qui
nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare_," was too well suited to the genius
of the emperor. He now, however, sought a safer guide for his spiritual
direction, and would listen to a homily from the pages of St. Bernard,
or more frequently St. Augustine, in whom he most delighted.[296]
Towards evening, he heard a sermon from one of his preachers. Three or
four of the most eloquent of the Jeronymite order had been brought to
Yuste for his especial benefit. When he was not in condition to be
present at the discourse, he expected to hear a full report of it from
the lips of his confessor, Father Juan de Regla. Charles was punctual in
his attention to all the great fasts and festivals of the Church. His
infirmities, indeed, excused him from fasting, but he made up for it by
the severity of his flagellation. In Lent, in particular, he dealt with
himself so sternly, that the scourge was found stained with his blood;
and this precious memorial of his piety was ever cherished, we are told,
by Philip, and by him bequeathed as an heirloom to his son.[297]

Increasing vigilance in his own spiritual concerns made him more
vigilant as to those of others,--as the weaker brethren sometimes found
to their cost. Observing that some of the younger friars spent more time
than was seemly in conversing with the women who came on business to the
door of the convent, Charles procured an order to be passed, that any
woman who ventured to approach within two bowshots of the gate should
receive a hundred stripes.[298] On another occasion, his officious
endeavor to quicken the diligence of one of the younger members of the
fraternity _is said_ to have provoked the latter testily to exclaim,
"Cannot you be contented with having so long turned the world upside
down, without coming here to disturb the quiet of a poor convent?"

[Sidenote: HIS MODE OF LIFE.]

He derived an additional pleasure, in his spiritual exercises, from his
fondness for music, which enters so largely into those of the Romish
Church. He sung well himself, and his clear, sonorous voice might often
be heard through the open casement of his bedroom, accompanying the
chant of the monks in the chapel. The choir was made up altogether of
brethren of the order, and Charles would allow no intrusion from any
other quarter. His ear was quick to distinguish any strange voice, as
well as any false note in the performance,--on which last occasion he
would sometimes pause in his devotions, and, in half-suppressed tones,
give vent to his anger by one of those scurrilous epithets, which,
however they may have fallen in with the habits of the old campaigner,
were but indifferently suited to his present way of life.[299]

Such time as was not given to his religious exercises was divided among
various occupations, for which he had always had a relish, though
hitherto but little leisure to pursue them. Besides his employments in
his garden, he had a decided turn for mechanical pursuits. Some years
before, while in Germany, he had invented an ingenious kind of carriage
for his own accommodation.[300] He brought with him to Yuste an engineer
named Torriano, famous for the great hydraulic works he constructed in
Toledo. With the assistance of this man, a most skilful mechanician,
Charles amused himself by making a variety of puppets representing
soldiers, who went through military exercises. The historian draws
largely on our faith, by telling us also of little wooden birds which
the ingenious pair contrived, so as to fly in and out of the window
before the admiring monks![301] But nothing excited their astonishment
so much as a little hand-mill, used for grinding wheat, which turned out
meal enough in a single day to support a man for a week or more. The
good fathers thought this savored of downright necromancy; and it may
have furnished an argument against the unfortunate engineer in the
persecution which he afterwards underwent from the Inquisition.

Charles took, moreover, great interest in the mechanism of timepieces.
He had a good number of clocks and watches ticking together in his
apartments; and a story has obtained credit, that the difficulty he
found in making any two of them keep the same time drew from him an
exclamation on the folly of attempting to bring a number of men to think
alike in matters of religion, when he could not regulate any two of his
timepieces so as to make them agree with each other; a philosophical
reflection for which one will hardly give credit to the man who, with
his dying words, could press on his son the maintenance of the
Inquisition as the great bulwark of the Catholic faith. In the gardens
of Yuste there is still, or was lately, to be seen, a sun-dial
constructed by Torriano to enable his master to measure more accurately
the lapse of time as it glided away in the monotonous routine of the
monastery.[302]

Though averse to visits of curiosity or idle ceremony,[303] Charles
consented to admit some of the nobles whose estates lay in the
surrounding country, and who, with feelings of loyal attachment to their
ancient master, were anxious to pay their respects to him in his
retirement. But none who found their way into his retreat appear to have
given him so much satisfaction as Francisco Borja, duke of Gandia, in
later times placed on the roll of her saints by the Roman Catholic
Church. Like Charles, he had occupied a brilliant eminence in the world,
and like him had found the glory of this world but vanity. In the prime
of life, he withdrew from the busy scenes in which he had acted, and
entered a college of Jesuits. By the emperor's invitation, Borja made
more than one visit to Yuste; and Charles found much consolation in his
society, and in conversing with his early friend on topics of engrossing
interest to both. The result of their conferences was to confirm them
both in the conviction, that they had done wisely in abjuring the world,
and in dedicating themselves to the service of Heaven.

The emperor was also visited by his two sisters, the dowager queens of
France and Hungary, who had accompanied their brother, as we have seen,
on his return to Spain. But the travelling was too rough, and the
accommodations at Yuste too indifferent, to encourage the royal matrons
to prolong their stay, or, with one exception on the part of the queen
of Hungary, to repeat their visit.

But an object of livelier interest to the emperor than either of his
sisters was a boy, scarcely twelve years of age, who resided in the
family of his major-domo, Quixada, in the neighboring village of Cuacos.
This was Don John of Austria, as he was afterwards called, the future
hero of Lepanto. He was the natural son of Charles, a fact known to no
one during the father's lifetime, except Quixada, who introduced the boy
into the convent as his own page. The lad, at this early age, showed
many gleams of that generous spirit by which he was afterwards
distinguished,--thus solacing the declining years of his parent, and
affording a hold for those affections which might have withered in the
cold atmosphere of the cloister.

Strangers were sure to be well received who, coming from the theatre of
war, could furnish the information he so much desired respecting the
condition of things abroad. Thus we find him in conference with an
officer arrived from the Low Countries, named Spinosa, and putting a
multitude of questions respecting the state of the army, the
organization and equipment of the different corps, and other
particulars, showing the lively interest taken by Charles in the conduct
of the campaign.[304]

[Sidenote: HIS INTEREST IN PUBLIC AFFAIRS.]

It has been a common opinion, that the emperor, after his retirement to
Yuste, remained as one buried alive, totally cut off from intercourse
with the world;--"as completely withdrawn from the business of the
kingdom and the concerns of government," says one of his biographers,
"as if he had never taken part in them;"[305]--"so entirely abstracted
in his solitude," says another contemporary, "that neither revolutions
nor wars, nor gold arriving in heaps from the Indies, had any power to
affect his tranquillity."[306]

So far from this being the case, that not only did the emperor continue
to show an interest in public affairs, but he took a prominent part,
even from the depths of his retreat, in the management of them.[307]
Philip, who had the good sense to defer to the long experience and the
wisdom of his father, consulted him, constantly, on great questions of
public policy. And so far was he from the feeling of jealousy often
imputed to him, that we find him on one occasion, when the horizon
looked particularly, dark, imploring the emperor to leave his retreat,
and to aid him not only by his counsels, but by his presence and
authority.[308] The emperor's daughter Joanna, regent of Castile, from
her residence at Valladolid, only fifty leagues from Yuste, maintained a
constant correspondence with her father, soliciting his advice in the
conduct of the government. However much Charles may have felt himself
relieved from responsibility for measures, he seems to have been as
anxious for the success of Philip's administration as if it had been his
own. "Write more fully," says one of his secretaries in a letter to the
secretary of the regent's council; "the emperor is always eager to hear
more particulars of events."[309] He showed the deepest concern in the
conduct of the Italian war. He betrayed none of the scruples manifested
by Philip, but boldly declared that the war with the pope was a just
war, in the sight of both God and man.[310] When letters came from
abroad, he was even heard to express his regret that they brought no
tidings of Paul's death, or Caraffa's![311] He was sorely displeased
with the truce which Alva granted to the pontiff, intimating a regret
that he had not the reins still in his own hand. He was yet more
discontented with the peace, and the terms of it, both public and
private; and when Alva talked of leaving Naples, his anger, as his
secretary quaintly remarks, was "more than was good for his
health."[312]

The same interest he showed in the French war. The loss of Calais filled
him with the deepest anxiety. But in his letters on the occasion,
instead of wasting his time in idle lament, he seems intent only on
devising in what way he can best serve Philip in his distress.[313] In
the same proportion he was elated by the tidings of the victory of St.
Quentin. His thoughts turned upon Paris, and he was eager to learn what
road his son had taken after the battle.[314] According to Brantôme, on
hearing the news, he abruptly asked, "Is Philip at Paris?"--He judged of
Philip's temper by his own.[315]

At another time, we find him conducting negotiations with Navarre;[316]
and then, again, carrying on a correspondence with his sister, the
regent of Portugal, for the purpose of having his grandson, Carlos,
recognized as heir to the crown, in case of the death of the young king,
his cousin. The scheme failed, for it would be as much as her life was
worth, the regent said, to engage in it. But it was a bold one, that of
bringing under the same sceptre these two nations, which, by community
of race, language, and institutions, would seem by nature to have been
designed for one. It was Charles's comprehensive idea; and it proves
that, even in the cloister, the spirit of ambition had not become
extinct in his bosom. How much would it have rejoiced that ambitious
spirit, could he have foreseen that the consummation so much desired by
him would be attained under Philip![317]

[Sidenote: HIS INTEREST IN PUBLIC AFFAIRS.]

But the department which especially engaged Charles's attention in his
retirement, singularly enough, was the financial. "It has been my
constant care," he writes to Philip, "in all my letters to your sister,
to urge the necessity of providing you with funds,--since I can be of
little service to you in any other way."[318] His interposition, indeed,
seems to have been constantly invoked to raise supplies for carrying on
the war. This fact may be thought to show that those writers are
mistaken who accuse Philip of withholding from his father the means of
maintaining a suitable establishment at Yuste. Charles, in truth,
settled the amount of his own income; and in one of his letters we find
him fixing this at twenty thousand ducats, instead of sixteen thousand,
as before, to be paid quarterly and in advance.[319] That the payments
were not always punctually made may well be believed, in a country where
punctuality would have been a miracle.

Charles had more cause for irritation in the conduct of some of those
functionaries with whom he had to deal in his financial capacity.
Nothing appears to have stirred his bile so much at Yuste as the
proceedings of some members of the board of trade at Seville. "I have
deferred sending to you," he writes to his daughter, the regent, "in
order to see if, with time, my wrath would not subside. But, far from
it, it increases, and will go on increasing till I learn that those who
have done wrong have atoned for it. Were it not for my infirmities," he
adds, "I would go to Seville myself, and find out the authors of this
villany, and bring them to a summary reckoning."[320] "The emperor
orders me," writes his secretary, Gaztelu, "to command that the
offenders be put in irons, and in order to mortify them the more, that
they be carried, in broad daylight, to Simancas, and there lodged, not
in towers or chambers, but in a dungeon. Indeed, such is his
indignation, and such are the _violent and bloodthirsty expressions_ he
commands me to use, that you will pardon me if my language is not so
temperate as it might be."[321] It had been customary for the board of
trade to receive the gold imported from the Indies, whether on public or
private account, and hold it for the use of the government, paying to
the merchants interested an equivalent in government bonds. The
merchants, naturally enough, not relishing this kind of security so well
as the gold, by a collusion with some of the members of the board of
trade, had been secretly allowed to remove their own property. In this
way the government was defrauded--as the emperor regarded it--of a large
sum on which it had calculated. This, it would seem, was the offence
which had roused the royal indignation to such a pitch. Charles's
phlegmatic temperament had ever been liable to be ruffled by these
sudden gusts of passion; and his conventual life does not seem to have
had any very sedative influence on him in this particular.

For the first ten months after his arrival at Yuste, the emperor's
health, under the influence of a temperate climate, the quiet of
monastic life, and more than all, probably, his exemption from the cares
of state, had generally improved.[322] His attacks of gout had been less
frequent and less severe than before. But in the spring of 1558, the old
malady returned with renewed violence. "I was not in a condition," he
writes to Philip, "to listen to a single sermon during Lent."[323] For
months he was scarcely able to write a line with his own hand. His
spirits felt the pressure of bodily suffering, and were still further
depressed by the death of his sister Eleanor, the queen-dowager of
France and Portugal, which took place in February, 1558.

A strong attachment seems to have subsisted between the emperor and his
two sisters. Queen Eleanor's sweetness of disposition had particularly
endeared her to her brother, who now felt her loss almost as keenly as
that of one of his own children. "She was a good Christian," he said to
his secretary, Gaztelu; and, as the tears rolled down his cheeks, he
added, "We have always loved each other. She was my elder by fifteen
months; and before that period has passed I shall probably be with
her."[324] Before half that period, the sad augury was fulfilled.

At this period--as we shall see hereafter--the attention of the
government was called to the Lutheran heresy, which had already begun to
disclose itself in various quarters of the country. Charles was
possessed of a full share of the spirit of bigotry which belonged to the
royal line of Castile, from which he was descended. While on the throne,
this feeling was held somewhat in check by a regard for his political
interests. But in the seclusion of the monastery he had no interests to
consult but those of religion; and he gave free scope to the spirit of
intolerance which belonged to his nature. In a letter addressed, the
third of May, 1558, to his daughter Joanna, he says: "Tell the
grand-inquisitor from me to be at his post, and lay the axe at the root
of the evil before it spreads further. I rely on your zeal for bringing
the guilty to punishment, and for having them punished, without favor to
any one, with all the severity which their crimes demand."[325] In
another letter to his daughter, three weeks later, he writes: "If I had
not entire confidence that you would do your duty, and arrest the evil
at once by chastising the guilty in good earnest, I know not how I
could help leaving the monastery, and taking the remedy into my own
hands."[326] Thus did Charles make his voice heard from his retreat
among the mountains, and by his efforts and influence render himself
largely responsible for the fiery persecution which brought woe upon the
land after he himself had gone to his account.

[Sidenote: HE CELEBRATES HIS OBSEQUIES.]

About the middle of August, the emperor's old enemy, the gout, returned
on him with uncommon force. It was attended with symptoms of an alarming
kind, intimating, indeed, that his strong constitution was giving way.
These were attributed to a cold which he had taken, though it seems
there was good reason for imputing them to his intemperate living; for
he still continued to indulge his appetite for the most dangerous
dishes, as freely as in the days when a more active way of life had
better enabled him to digest them. It is true, the physician stood by
his side, as prompt as Sancho Panza's doctor, in his island domain, to
remonstrate against his master's proceedings. But, unhappily, he was not
armed with the authority of that functionary; and an eel-pie, a
well-spiced capon, or any other savory abomination, offered too great a
fascination for Charles to heed the warnings of his physician.

The declining state of the emperor's health may have inspired him with a
presentiment of his approaching end, to which, we have seen, he gave
utterrance some time before this, in his conversation with Gaztelu. It
may have been the sober reflections which such a feeling would naturally
suggest that led him, at the close of the month of August, to conceive
the extraordinary idea of preparing for the final scene by rehearsing
his own funeral. He consulted his professor on the subject, and was
encouraged by the accommodating father to consider it as a meritorious
act. The chapel was accordingly hung in black, and the blaze of hundreds
of wax-lights was not sufficient to dispel the darkness. The monks in
their conventual dresses, and all the emperor's household, clad in deep
mourning, gathered round a huge _catafalque_, shrouded also in black,
which had been raised in the centre of the chapel. The service for the
burial of the dead was then performed; and amidst the dismal wail of the
monks, the prayers ascended for the departed spirit, that it might be
received into the mansions of the blessed. The sorrowful attendants were
melted to tears, as the image of their master's death was presented to
their minds, or they were touched, it may be, with compassion for this
pitiable display of his weakness. Charles, muffled in a dark mantle, and
bearing a lighted candle in his hand, mingled with his household, the
spectator of his own obsequies; and the doleful ceremony was concluded
by his placing the taper in the hands of the priest, in sign of his
surrendering up his soul to the Almighty.

Such is the account of this melancholy farce given us by the Jeronymite
chroniclers of the cloister life of Charles the Fifth, and which has
since been repeated--losing nothing in the repetition--by every
succeeding historian, to the present time.[327] Nor does there seem to
have been any distrust of its correctness till the historical scepticism
of our own day had subjected the narrative to a more critical scrutiny.
It was then discovered that no mention of the affair was to be discerned
in the letters of any one of the emperor's household residing at Yuste,
although there are letters extant written by Charles's physician, his
major-domo, and his secretary, both on the thirty-first of August, the
day of the funeral, and on the first of September. With so extraordinary
an event fresh in their minds, their silence is inexplicable.

One fact is certain, that, if the funeral did take place, it could not
have been on the date assigned to it; for on the thirty-first the
emperor was laboring under an attack of fever, of which his physician
has given full particulars, and from which he was destined never to
recover. That the writers, therefore, should have been silent in respect
to a ceremony which must have had so bad an effect on the nerves of the
patient, is altogether incredible.

Yet the story of the obsequies comes from one of the Jeronymite brethren
then living at Yuste, who speaks of the emotions which he felt, in
common with the rest of the convent, at seeing a man thus bury himself
alive, as it were, and perform his funeral rites before his death.[328]
It is repeated by another of the fraternity, the prior of Escorial, who
had ample means of conversing with eye-witnesses.[329] And finally, it
is confirmed by more than one writer near enough to the period to be
able to assure himself of the truth.[330] Indeed, the parties from whom
the account is originally derived were so situated that, if the story be
without foundation, it is impossible to explain its existence by
misapprehension on their part. It must be wholly charged on a wilful
misstatement of facts. It is true, the monkish chronicler is not always
quite so scrupulous in this particular as would be
desirable,--especially where the honor of his order is implicated. But
what interest could the Jeronymite fathers have had in so foolish a
fabrication as this? The supposition is at variance with the respectable
character of the parties, and with the air of simplicity and good faith
that belongs to their narratives.[331]

We may well be staggered, it is true, by the fact that no allusion to
the obsequies appears in any of the letters from Yuste; while the date
assigned for them, moreover, is positively disproved. Yet we may
consider that the misstatement of a date is a very different thing from
the invention of a story; and that chronological accuracy, as I have
more than once had occasion to remark, was not the virtue of the
monkish, or indeed of any other historian of the sixteenth century. It
would not be a miracle if the obsequies should have taken place some
days before the period assigned to them. It so happens that we have no
letters from Yuste between the eighteenth and twenty-eighth of August.
At least, I have none myself, and have seen none cited by others. If any
should hereafter come to light, written during that interval, they may
be found possibly to contain some allusion to the funeral. Should no
letters have been written during the period, the silence of the parties
who wrote at the end of August and the beginning of September may be
explained by the fact, that too long a time had elapsed since the
performance of the emperor's obsequies, for them to suppose it could
have any connection with his illness, which formed the subject of their
correspondence. Difficulties will present themselves, whichever view we
take of the matter. But the reader may think it quite as reasonable to
explain those difficulties by the supposition of involuntary error, as
by that of sheer invention.

Nor is the former supposition rendered less probable by the character of
Charles the Fifth. There was a taint of insanity in the royal blood of
Castile, which was most fully displayed in the emperor's mother, Joanna.
Some traces of it, however faint, may be discerned in his own conduct,
before he took refuge in the cloisters of Yuste. And though we may not
agree with Paul the Fourth in regarding this step as sufficient evidence
of his madness,[332] we may yet find something in his conduct, on more
than one occasion, while there, which is near akin to it. Such, for
example, was the morbid relish which he discovered for performing the
obsequies, not merely of his kindred, but of any one whose position
seemed to him to furnish an apology for it. Not a member of the _toison_
died, but he was prepared to commemorate the event with solemn funeral
rites. These, in short, seemed to be the festivities of Charles's
cloister life. These lugubrious ceremonies had a fascination for him,
that may remind one of the tenacity with which his mother, Joanna, clung
to the dead body of her husband, taking it with her wherever she went.
It was after celebrating the obsequies of his parents and his wife,
which occupied several successive days, that he conceived, as we are
told, the idea of rehearsing his own funeral,--a piece of extravagance
which becomes the more credible when we reflect on the state of morbid
excitement to which his mind may have been brought by dwelling so long
on the dreary apparatus of death.

But whatever be thought of the account of the mock funeral of Charles,
it appears that on the thirtieth of August he was affected by an
indisposition which on the following day was attended with most alarming
symptoms. Here also we have some particulars from his Jeronymite
biographers which we do not find in the letters. On the evening of the
thirty-first, according to their account, Charles ordered a portrait of
the empress, his wife, of whom, as we have seen, he had more than one in
his collection, to be brought to him. He dwelt a long while on its
beautiful features, "as if," says the chronicler, "he were imploring her
to prepare a place for him in the celestial mansions to which she had
gone."[333] He then passed to the contemplation of another
picture,--Titian's "Agony in the Garden," and from this to that immortal
production of his pencil, the "Gloria," as it is called, which is said
to have hung over the high altar at Yuste, and which, after the
emperor's death, followed his remains to the Escorial.[334] He gazed so
long and with such rapt attention on the picture, as to cause
apprehension in his physician, who, in the emperor's debilitated state,
feared the effects of such excitement on his nerves. There was good
reason for apprehension; for Charles, at length, rousing from his
reverie, turned to the doctor, and complained that he was ill. His pulse
showed him to be in a high fever. As the symptoms became more
unfavorable, his physician bled him, but without any good effect.[335]
The Regent Joanna, on learning her father's danger, instantly despatched
her own physician from Valladolid to his assistance. But no earthly
remedies could avail. It soon became evident that the end was
approaching.[336]

Charles received the intelligence, not merely with composure, but with
cheerfulness. It was what he had long desired, he said. His first care
was to complete some few arrangements respecting his affairs. On the
ninth of September, he executed a codicil to his will. The will, made a
few years previous, was of great length, and the codicil had not the
merit of brevity. Its principal object was to make provision for those
who had followed him to Yuste. No mention is made in the codicil of his
son Don John of Austria. He seems to have communicated his views in
regard to him to his major-domo, Quixada, who had a private interview of
some length with his master a few days before his death. Charles's
directions on the subject appear to have been scrupulously regarded by
Philip.[337]

[Sidenote: HIS LAST ILLNESS.]

One clause in the codicil deserves to be noticed. The emperor conjures
his son most earnestly, by the obedience he owes him, to follow up and
bring to justice every heretic in his dominions; and this without
exception, and without favor or mercy to any one. He conjures Philip to
cherish the Holy Inquisition, as the best instrument for accomplishing
this good work. "So," he concludes, "shall you have my blessing, and the
Lord shall prosper all your undertakings."[338] Such were the last words
of the dying monarch to his son. They did not fall on a deaf ear; and
the parting admonition of his father served to give a keener edge to the
sword of persecution which Philip had already begun to wield.

On the nineteenth of September, Charles's strength had declined so much
that it was thought proper to administer extreme unction to him. He
preferred to have it in the form adopted by the friars, which,
comprehending a litany, the seven penitential psalms, and sundry other
passages of Scripture, was much longer and more exhausting than the rite
used by the laity. His strength did not fail under it, however; and the
following day he desired to take the communion, as he had frequently
done during his illness. On his confessor's representing that, after the
sacrament of extreme unction, this was unnecessary, he answered,
"Perhaps so, but it is good provision for the long journey I am to set
out upon."[339] Exhausted as he was, he knelt a full quarter of an hour
in his bed during the ceremony, offering thanks to God for his mercies,
and expressing the deepest contrition for his sins, with an earnestness
of manner that touched the hearts of all present.[340]

Throughout his illness he had found consolation in having passages of
Scripture, especially the Psalms, read to him. Quixada, careful that his
master should not be disquieted in his last moments, would allow very
few persons to be present in his chamber. Among the number was Bartolomé
de Carranza, who had lately been raised to the archiepiscopal see of
Toledo. He had taken a prominent part in the persecution in England
under Mary. For the remainder of his life he was to be the victim of
persecution himself, from a stronger arm than his, that of the
Inquisition. Even the words of consolation which he uttered in this
chamber of death were carefully treasured up by Charles's confessor, and
made one of the charges against him in his impeachment for heresy.

On the twenty-first of September, St. Matthew's day, about two hours
after midnight, the emperor, who had remained long without speaking,
feeling that his hour had come, exclaimed, "Now it is time!" The holy
taper was placed lighted in his right hand, as he sat up leaning on the
shoulder of the faithful Quixada. With his left he endeavored to clasp a
silver crucifix. It had comforted the empress, his wife, in her dying
hour; and Charles had ordered Quixada to hold it in readiness for him on
the like occasion.[341] It had lain for some time on his breast; and as
it was now held up before his glazing eye by the archbishop of Toledo,
Charles fixed his gaze long and earnestly on the sacred symbol,--to him
the memento of earthly love as well as heavenly. The archbishop was
repeating the psalm _De Profundis_,--"Out of the depths have I cried
unto thee, O Lord!"--when the dying man, making a feeble effort to
embrace the crucifix, exclaimed, in tones so audible as to be heard in
the adjoining room, "_Ay Jesus!_" and sinking back on the pillow,
expired without a struggle.[342] He had always prayed--perhaps fearing
the hereditary taint of insanity--that he might die in possession of
his faculties.[343] His prayer was granted.

The emperor's body, after being embalmed, and placed in its leaden
coffin, lay in state in the chapel for three days, during which three
discourses were pronounced over it by the best preachers in the convent.
It was then consigned to the earth, with due solemnity, amidst the
prayers and tears of the brethren and of Charles's domestics, in
presence of a numerous concourse of persons from the surrounding
country.

The burial did not take place, however, without some difficulty. Charles
had requested by his will that he might be laid partially under the
great altar, in such a manner that his head and the upper part of his
body might come under the spot where the priest stood when he performed
the service. This was dictated in all humility by the emperor; but it
raised a question among the scrupulous ecclesiastics as to the propriety
of permitting any bones save those of a saint to occupy so holy a place
as that beneath the altar. The dispute waxed somewhat warmer than was
suited to the occasion; till the momentous affair was finally adjusted
by having an excavation made in the wall, within which the head was
introduced, so as to allow the feet to touch the verge of the hallowed
ground.[344] The emperor's body did not long abide in its resting-place
at Yuste. Before many years had elapsed, it was transported, by command
of Philip the Second, to the Escorial, and in that magnificent mausoleum
it has continued to repose, beside that of the Empress Isabella.

The funeral obsequies of Charles were celebrated with much pomp by the
court of Rome, by the Regent Joanna at Valladolid, and, with yet greater
magnificence, by Philip the Second at Brussels. Philip was at Arras when
he learned the news of his father's death. He instantly repaired to a
monastery in the neighborhood of Brussels, where he remained secluded
for several weeks. Meanwhile he ordered the bells in all the churches
and convents throughout the Netherlands to be tolled thrice a day for
four mouths, and during that time that no festivals or public rejoicings
of any kind should take place. On the twenty-eighth of December the king
entered Brussels by night, and on the following day, before the hour of
vespers, a procession was formed to the church of St. Gudule, which
still challenges the admiration of the traveller as one of the noblest
monuments of mediæval architecture in the Netherlands.

[Sidenote: HIS DEATH AND CHARACTER.]

The procession consisted of the principal clergy, the members of the
different religious houses, bearing lighted tapers in their hands, the
nobles and cavaliers about the court, the great officers of state and
the royal household, all clad in deep mourning. After these came the
knights of the Golden Fleece, wearing the insignia and the superb dress
of the order. The marquis of Aguilar bore the imperial sceptre, the
duke of Villahermosa the sword, and the prince of Orange carried the
globe and the crown of the empire. Philip came on foot, wrapped in a
sable mantle, with his head buried in a deep cowl. His train was borne
by Ruy Gomez de Silva, the favorite minister. Then followed the duke of
Savoy, walking also alone, with his head covered, as a prince of the
blood. Files of the Spanish and German guard, in their national
uniforms, formed an escort to the procession, as it took its way through
the principal streets, which were illumined with a blaze of torchlight,
that dispelled the gathering shadows of evening.

A conspicuous part of the procession was a long train of horses led each
by two gentlemen, and displaying on their splendid housings, and the
banners which they carried, the devices and arms of the several states
over which the emperor presided.

But no part of the pageant attracted so much notice from the populace as
a stately galley, having its sides skilfully painted with battle-pieces
suggested by different actions in which Charles had been engaged; while
its sails of black silk were covered with inscriptions in letters of
gold, that commemorated the triumphs of the hero.

Although the palace was at no great distance from St. Gudule's, the
procession occupied two hours in passing to the church. In the nave of
the edifice stood a sort of chapel, constructed for the occasion. Its
roof, or rather canopy, displaying four crowns embroidered in gold,
rested on four Ionic pillars curiously wrought. Within lay a sarcophagus
covered with a dark pall of velvet, surmounted by a large crimson cross.
The imperial crown, together with the globe and sceptre, was deposited
in this chapel, which was lighted up with three thousand wax tapers.

In front of it was a scaffolding covered with black, on which a throne
was raised for Philip. The nobles and great officers of the crown
occupied the seats, or rather steps, below. Drapery of dark velvet and
cloth of gold, emblazoned with the imperial arms, was suspended across
the arches of the nave; above which ran galleries, appropriated to the
duchess of Lorraine and the ladies of the court.[345]

The traveller who at this time visits this venerable pile, where Charles
the Fifth was wont to hold the chapters of the Golden Fleece, while he
gazes on the characteristic effigy of that monarch, as it is displayed
on the superb windows of painted glass, may call to mind the memorable
day when the people of Flanders, and the rank and beauty of its capital,
were gathered together to celebrate the obsequies of the great emperor;
when, amidst clouds of incense and the blaze of myriads of lights, the
deep tones of the organ, vibrating through the long aisles, mingled with
the voices of the priests, as they chanted their sad requiem to the soul
of their departed sovereign.[346]

I have gone somewhat into detail in regard to the latter days of Charles
the Fifth, who exercised, in his retirement, too important an influence
on public affairs for such an account of him to be deemed an impertinent
episode to the history of Philip the Second. Before parting from him for
ever, I will take a brief view of some peculiarities in his personal,
rather than his political character, which has long since been indelibly
traced by a hand abler than mine.

Charles, at the time of his death, was in the fifty-eighth year of his
age. He was older in constitution than in years. So much shaken had he
been, indeed, in mind as well as body, that he may be said to have died
of premature old age. Yet his physical development had been very slow.
He was nearly twenty-one years old before any beard was to be seen on
his chin.[347] Yet by the time he was thirty-six, gray hairs began to
make their appearance on his temples. At forty the gout had made severe
inroads on a constitution originally strong; and before he was fifty,
the man who could keep the saddle day and night in his campaigns, who
seemed to be insensible to fatigue as he followed the chase among the
wild passes of the Alpuxarras, was obliged to be carried in a litter,
like a poor cripple, at the head of his armies.[348]

His mental development was equally tardy with his bodily. So long as
Chievres lived,--the Flemish noble who had the care of his early
life,--Charles seemed to have no will of his own. During his first visit
to Spain, where he came when seventeen years old, he gave so little
promise, that those who approached him nearest could discern no signs of
his future greatness. Yet the young prince seems to have been conscious
that he had the elements of greatness within him, and he patiently bided
his time. "_Nondum_"--"Not yet"--was the motto which he adopted for his
maiden shield, when but eighteen years old, at a tournament at
Valladolid.

[Sidenote: HIS DEATH AND CHARACTER.]

But when the death of the Flemish minister had released the young
monarch from this state of dependence, he took the reins into his own
hands, as Louis the Fourteenth did on the death of Mazarin. He now
showed himself in an entirely new aspect. He even displayed greater
independence than his predecessors had done. He no longer trusted
everything, like them, to a council of state. He trusted only to
himself; and if he freely communicated with some one favorite minister,
like the elder Granvelle, and the cardinal, his son, it was in order to
be counselled, not to be controlled by their judgments. He patiently
informed himself of public affairs; and when foreign envoys had their
audiences of him, they were surprised to find him possessed of
everything relating to their own courts and the objects of their
mission.

Yet he did not seem to be quick of apprehension, or, to speak more
correctly, he was slow in arriving at his results. He would keep the
courier waiting for days before he could come to a decision. When he did
come to it, no person on earth could shake it. Talking one day with the
Venetian Contarini about this habit of his mind, the courtly minister
remarked, that "it was not obstinacy to adhere to sound opinions."
"True," said Charles, "but I sometimes adhere to those that are
unsound."[349]

His indefatigable activity both of mind and body formed a strong
contrast to the lethargy of early years. His widely scattered empire,
spreading over the Low Countries, Spain, Germany, and the New World,
presented embarrassments which most princes would have found it
impossible to overcome. At least they would have been compelled to
govern, in a great measure, by deputy,--to transact their business by
agents. But Charles chose to do everything himself,--to devise his own
plans, and to execute them in person. The number of his journeys by land
and by water, as noticed in his farewell address, is truly wonderful;
for that was not the day of steamboats and railways. He seemed to lead
the life of a courier. But it was for no trivial object that he made
these expeditions. He knew where his presence was needed; and his
promptness and punctuality brought him, at the right time, on the right
spot. No spot in his broad empire was far removed from him. He seemed to
possess the power of ubiquity.

The consciousness of his own strength roused to a flame the spark of
ambition which had hitherto slept in his bosom. His schemes were so
vast, that it was a common opinion he aspired to universal monarchy.
Like his grandfather, Ferdinand, and his own son, Philip, he threw over
his schemes the cloak of religion. Or, to deal with him more fairly,
religious principle probably combined with personal policy to determine
his career. He seemed always ready to do battle for the Cross. He
affected to identify the cause of Spain with the cause of Christendom.
He marched against the Turks, and stayed the tide of Ottoman inroad in
Hungary. He marched against the Protestants, and discomfited their
armies in the heart of Germany. He crossed the Mediterranean, and
humbled the Crescent at Algiers. He threw himself on the honor of
Francis, and travelled through France to take vengeance on the rebels of
Flanders. He twice entered France as an enemy, and marched up to the
gates of Paris. Instead of the modest legend on his maiden shield; he
now assumed the proud motto, "_Plus ultra_;" and he vindicated his right
to it, by sending his fleets across the ocean, and by planting the
banner of Castile on the distant shores of the Pacific. In these
enterprises he was generally successful. His success led him to rely
still more on himself. "Myself and the lucky moment," was his favorite
saying. The "star of Austria," was still a proverb. It was not till the
evening of life that he complained of the fickleness of fortune; that
his star, as it descended to the horizon, was obscured by clouds and
darkness.

Thus Charles's nerves were kept in a state of perpetual excitement. No
wonder that his health should have sunk under it; like a plant forced by
extraordinary stimulants to an unnatural production at the expense of
its own vitality.

His habits were not all of them the most conducive to health. He slept
usually only four hours; too short a time to repair the waste caused by
incessant toil.[350] His phlegmatic temperament did not incline him to
excess. Yet there was one excess of which he was guilty,--the indulgence
of his appetite to a degree most pernicious to his health. A Venetian
contemporary tells us, that, before rising in the morning, potted capon
was usually served to him, dressed with sugar, milk, and spices. At noon
he dined on a variety of dishes. Soon after vespers he took another
meal; and later in the evening supped heartily on anchovies, or some
other gross and savory food of which he was particularly fond.[351] On
one occasion, complaining to his _maître d'hôtel_ that the cook sent him
nothing but dishes too insipid and tasteless to be eaten, the perplexed
functionary, knowing Charles's passion for timepieces, replied, that "he
did not know what he could do, unless it were to serve his majesty a
ragout of watches!" The witticism had one good effect, that of provoking
a hearty laugh from the emperor,--a thing rarely witnessed in his latter
days.[352]

It was in vain that Cardinal Loaysa, his confessor, remonstrated, with
an independence that does him credit, against his master's indulgence of
his appetite, assuring him that resistance here would do more for his
soul than any penance with the scourge.[353] It seems a pity that
Charles, considering his propensities, should have so easily obtained
absolution from fasts, and that he should not, on the contrary, have
transferred some of the penance which he inflicted on his back to the
offending part. Even in the monastery of Yuste he still persevered in
the same pernicious taste. Anchovies, frogs' legs, and eel-pasties were
the dainty morsels with which he chose to be regaled, even before the
eyes of his physician. It would not have been amiss for him to have
exchanged his solitary repast more frequently for the simpler fare of
the refectory.

With these coarser tastes Charles combined many others of a refined and
intellectual character. We have seen his fondness for music, and the
delight he took in the sister art of design,--especially in the works of
Titian. He was painted several times by this great master, and it was by
his hand, as we have seen, that he desired to go down to posterity. The
emperor had, moreover, another taste, perhaps talent, which, with a
different training and in a different sphere of life, might have led him
to the craft of authorship.

A curious conversation is reported as having been held by him with
Borja, the future saint, during one of the visits paid by the Jesuit to
Yuste. Charles inquired of his friend whether it were wrong for a man to
write his autobiography, provided he did so honestly, and with no motive
of vanity. He said that he had written his own memoirs, not from the
desire of self-glorification, but to correct manifold mistakes which had
been circulated of his doings, and to set his conduct in a true
light.[354] One might be curious to know the answer, which is not given,
of the good father to this question. It is to be hoped that it was not
of a kind to induce the emperor to destroy the manuscript, which has
never come to light.

However this may be, there is no reason to doubt that at one period of
his life he had compiled a portion of his autobiography. In the imperial
household, as I have already noticed, was a Flemish scholar, William Van
Male, or Malinæus, as he is called in Latin, who, under the title of
gentleman of the chamber, wrote many a long letter for Charles, while
standing by his bedside, and read many a weary hour to him after the
monarch had gone to rest,--not, as it would seem, to sleep.[355] This
personage tells us that Charles, when sailing on the Rhine, wrote an
account of his expeditions to as late a date as 1550.[356] This is not
very definite. Any account written under such circumstances, and in so
short a time, could be nothing but a sketch of the most general kind.
Yet Van Male assures us that he had read the manuscript, which he
commends for its terse and elegant diction; and he proposes to make a
Latin version of it, the style of which should combine the separate
merits of Tacitus, Livy, Suetonius, and Cæsar![357] The admiring
chamberlain laments that, instead of giving it to the world, Charles
should keep it jealously secured under lock and key.[358]

The emperor's taste for authorship showed itself also in another form.
This was by the translation of the "_Chevalier Délibéré_," a French poem
then popular, celebrating the court of his ancestor, Charles the Bold of
Burgundy. Van Male, who seems to have done for Charles the Fifth what
Voltaire did for Frederick, when he spoke of himself as washing the
king's dirty linen, was employed also to overlook this translation,
which he pronounces to have possessed great merit in regard to idiom and
selection of language. The emperor then gave it to Acuña, a good poet of
the court, to be done into Castilian verse. Thus metamorphosed, he
proposed to give the copy to Van Male. A mischievous wag, Avila the
historian, assured the emperor that it could not be worth less than five
hundred gold crowns to that functionary. "And William is well entitled
to them," said the monarch, "for he has sweat much over the work."[359]
Two thousand copies were forthwith ordered to be printed of the poem,
which was to come out anonymously. Poor Van Male, who took a very
different view of the profits, and thought that nothing was certain but
the cost of the edition, would have excused himself from this proof of
his master's liberality. It was all in vain; Charles was not to be
balked in his generous purpose; and, without a line to propitiate the
public favor, by stating in the preface the share of the royal hand in
the composition, it was ushered into the world.[360]

Whatever Charles may have done in the way of an autobiography, he was
certainly not indifferent to posthumous fame. He knew that the greatest
name must soon pass into oblivion, unless embalmed in the song of the
bard or the page of the chronicler. He looked for a chronicler to do for
him with his pen what Titian had done for him with his pencil,--exhibit
him in his true proportions, and in a permanent form, to the eye of
posterity! In this he does not seem to have been so much under the
influence of vanity as of a natural desire to have his character and
conduct placed in a fair point of view,--what seemed to him to be
such,--for the contemplation or criticism of mankind.

[Sidenote: HIS DEATH AND CHARACTER.]

The person whom the emperor selected for this delicate office was the
learned Sepulveda. Sleidan he condemned as a slanderer; and Giovio, who
had taken the other extreme, and written of him with what he called the
"golden pen" of history, he no less condemned as a flatterer.[361]
Charles encouraged Sepulveda to apply to him for information on matters
relating to his government. But when requested by the historian to
listen to what he had written, the emperor refused. "I will neither
hear nor read," he replied, "what you have said of me. Others may do
this when I am gone. But if you wish for information on any point, I
shall be always ready to give it to you."[362] A history thus compiled
was of the nature of an autobiography, and must be considered,
therefore, as entitled to much the same confidence, and open to the same
objections, as that kind of writing. Sepulveda was one of the few who
had repeated access to Charles in his retirement at Yuste;[363] and the
monarch testified his regard for him, by directing that particular care
be taken that no harm should come to the historian's manuscript before
it was committed to the press.[364]

Such are some of the most interesting traits and personal anecdotes I
have been able to collect of the man who, for nearly forty years, ruled
over an empire more vast, with an authority more absolute, than any
monarch since the days of Charlemagne. It may be thought strange that I
should have omitted to notice one feature in his character, the most
prominent in the line from which he was descended, at least on the
mother's side,--his bigotry. But in Charles this was less conspicuous
than in many others of his house; and while he sat upon the throne, the
extent to which his religious principles were held in subordination by
his political, suggests a much closer parallel to the policy of his
grandfather, Ferdinand the Catholic, than to that of his son, Philip the
Second, or of his imbecile grandson, Philip the Third.

But the religious gloom which hung over Charles's mind took the deeper
tinge of fanaticism after he had withdrawn to the monastery of Yuste.
With his dying words, as we have seen, he bequeathed the Inquisition as
a precious legacy to his son. In like manner, he endeavored to cherish
in the Regent Joanna's bosom the spirit of persecution.[365] And if it
were true, as his biographer assures us, that Charles expressed a regret
that he had respected the safe-conduct of Luther,[366] the world had
little reason to mourn that he exchanged the sword and the sceptre for
the breviary of the friar,--the throne of the Cæsars for his monastic
retreat among the wilds of Estremadura.

       *       *       *       *       *

The preceding chapter was written in the summer of 1851, a year before
the appearance of Stirling's "Cloister Life of Charles the Fifth," which
led the way in that brilliant series of works from the pens of Amédée
Pichot, Mignet, and Gachard, which has made the darkest recesses of
Yuste as light as day. The publication of these works has deprived my
account of whatever novelty it might have possessed, since it rests on a
similar basis with theirs, namely, original documents in the Archives of
Simancas. Yet the important influence which Charles exerted over the
management of affairs, even in his monastic retreat, has made it
impossible to dispense with the chapter. On the contrary, I have
profited by these recent publications to make sundry additions, which
may readily be discovered by the reader, from the references I have been
careful to make to the sources whence they are derived.

The public has been hitherto indebted for its knowledge of the reign of
Charles the Fifth to Robertson,--a writer who, combining a truly
philosophical spirit with an acute perception of character, is
recommended, moreover, by a classic elegance of style which has justly
given him a preëminence among the historians of the great emperor. But
in his account of the latter days of Charles, Robertson mainly relies on
commonplace authorities, whose information, gathered at second hand, is
far from being trustworthy,--as is proved by the contradictory tenor of
such authentic documents as the letters of Charles himself, with those
of his own followers, and the narratives of the brotherhood of Yuste.
These documents are, for the most part, to be found in the Archives of
Simancas, where, in Robertson's time, they were guarded, with the
vigilance of a Turkish harem, against all intrusion of native as well as
foreigner. It was not until very recently, in 1844, that the more
liberal disposition of the government allowed the gates to be unbarred
which had been closed for centuries; and then, for the first time, the
student might be seen toiling in the dusty alcoves of Simancas, and
busily exploring the long-buried memorials of the past. It was at this
period that my friend, Don Pascual de Gayangos, having obtained
authority from the government, passed some weeks at Simancas in
collecting materials, some of which have formed the groundwork of the
preceding chapter.

While the manuscripts of Simancas were thus hidden from the world, a
learned keeper of the archives, Don Tomas Gonzalez, discontented with
the unworthy view which had been given of the latter days of Charles the
Fifth, had profited by the materials which lay around him, to exhibit
his life at Yuste in a new and more authentic light. To the volume which
he compiled for this purpose he gave the title of "_Retiro, Estancia, y
Muerte del Emperador Carlos Quinto en el Monasterio de Yuste_." The
work, the principal value of which consists in the copious extracts with
which it is furnished from the correspondence of Charles and his
household, was suffered by the author to remain in manuscript; and, at
his death, it passed into the hands of his brother, who prepared a
summary of its contents, and endeavored to dispose of the volume at a
price so exorbitant that it remained for many years without a purchaser.
It was finally bought by the French government at a greatly reduced
price,--for four thousand francs. It may seem strange that it should
have even brought this sum, since the time of the sale was that in which
the new arrangements were made for giving admission to the archives that
contained the original documents on which the Gonzalez MS. was founded.
The work thus bought by the French government was transferred to the
Archives des Affaires Etrangères, then under the direction of M. Mignet.
The manuscript could not be in better hands than those of a scholar who
has so successfully carried the torch of criticism into some of the
darkest passages of Spanish history. His occupations, however, took him
in another direction; and for eight years the Gonzalez MS. remained as
completely hidden from the world in the Parisian archives as it had been
in those of Simancas. When, at length, it was applied to the historical
uses for which it had been intended, it was through the agency, not of a
French, but of a British writer. This was Mr. Stirling, the author of
the "Annals of the Artists of Spain,"--a work honorable to its author
for the familiarity it shows, not only with the state of the arts in
that country, but also with its literature.

[Sidenote: MEMOIRS OF CHARLES.]

Mr. Stirling, during a visit to the Peninsula, in 1849, made a
pilgrimage to Yuste; and the traditions and hoary reminiscences gathered
round the spot left such an impression on the traveller's mind, that, on
his return to England, he made them the subject of two elaborate papers
in Fraser's Magazine, in the numbers for April and May, 1851. Although
these spirited essays rested wholly on printed works, which had long
been accessible to the scholar, they were found to contain many new and
highly interesting details; showing how superficially Mr.

Stirling's predecessors had examined the records of the emperor's
residence at Yuste. Still, in his account the author had omitted the
most important feature of Charles's monastic life,--the influence which
he exercised on the administration of the kingdom. This was to be
gathered from the manuscripts of Simancas.

Mr. Stirling, who through that inexhaustible repository, the Handbook of
Spain, had become acquainted with the existence of the Gonzalez MS.,
was, at the time of writing his essays, ignorant of its fate. On
learning, afterwards, where it was to be found, he visited Paris, and,
having obtained access to the volume, so far profited by its contents as
to make them the basis of a separate work, which he entitled "The
Cloister Life of Charles the Fifth." It soon attracted the attention of
scholars, both at home and abroad, went through several editions, and
was received, in short, with an avidity which showed both the importance
attached to the developments the author had made, and the highly
attractive form in which he had presented them to the reader.

The Parisian scholars were now stimulated to turn to account the
treasure which had remained so long neglected on their shelves. In 1854,
less than two years after the appearance of Mr. Stirling's book, M.
Amédée Pichot published his "_Chronique de Charles-Quint_," a work
which, far from being confined to the latter days of the emperor, covers
the whole range of his biography, presenting a large amount of
information in regard to his personal habits, as well as to the interior
organization of his government, and the policy which directed it. The
whole is enriched, moreover, by a multitude of historical incidents,
which may be regarded rather as subsidiary than essential to the conduct
of the narrative, which is enlivened by much ingenious criticism on the
state of manners, arts, and moral culture of the period.

It was not long after the appearance of this work that M. Gachard, whom
I have elsewhere noticed as having been commissioned by the Belgian
government to make extensive researches in the Archives of Simancas,
gave to the public some of the fruits of his labors, in the first volume
of his "_Retraite et Mort de Charles-Quint_." It is devoted to the
letters of the emperor and his household, which form the staple of the
Gonzalez MS.; thus placing at the disposition of the future biographer
of Charles the original materials with which to reconstruct the history
of his latter days.

Lastly came the work, long expected, of M. Mignet, "_Charles-Quint; son
Abdication, son Séjour, et sa Mort au Monastère de Yuste_." It was the
reproduction, in a more extended and elaborate form, of a series of
papers, the first of which appeared shortly after the publication of Mr.
Stirling's book. In this work the French author takes the clear and
comprehensive view of his subject so characteristic of his genius. The
difficult and debatable points he discusses with acuteness and
precision; and the whole story of Charles's monastic life he presents in
so luminous an aspect to the reader as leaves nothing further to be
desired.

The critic may take some interest in comparing the different manners in
which the several writers have dealt with the subject, each according to
his own taste, or the bent of his genius. Thus through Stirling's more
free and familiar narrative there runs a pleasant vein of humor, with
piquancy enough to give it relish, showing the author's sensibility to
the ludicrous, for which Charles's stingy habits, and excessive love of
good cheer, even in the convent, furnish frequent occasion.

Quite a different conception is formed by Mignet of the emperor's
character, which he has cast in the true heroic mould, not deigning to
recognize a single defect, however slight, which may at all impair the
majesty of the proportions. Finally, Amédée Pichot, instead of the
classical, may be said to have conformed to the romantic school in the
arrangement of his subject, indulging in various picturesque episodes,
which he has, however, combined so successfully with the main body of
the narrative as not to impair the unity of interest.

Whatever may be thought of the comparative merits of these eminent
writers in the execution of their task, the effect of their labors has
undoubtedly been to make that the plainest which was before the most
obscure portion of the history of Charles the Fifth.




BOOK II.




CHAPTER I.

VIEW OF THE NETHERLANDS.

Civil Institutions.--Commercial Prosperity.--Character of the
People.--Protestant Doctrines.--Persecution by Charles the Fifth.


We have now come to that portion of the narrative which seems to be
rather in the nature of an episode, than part and parcel of our history;
though from its magnitude and importance it is better entitled to be
treated as an independent history by itself. This is the War of the
Netherlands; opening the way to that great series of revolutions, the
most splendid example of which is furnished by our own happy land.
Before entering on this vast theme, it will be well to give a brief view
of the country which forms the subject of it.

At the accession of Philip the Second, about the middle of the sixteenth
century, the Netherlands, or Flanders, as the country was then usually
called,[367] comprehended seventeen provinces, occupying much the same
territory, but somewhat abridged, with that included in the present
kingdoms of Holland and Belgium.[368] These provinces, under the various
denominations of duchies, counties, and lordships, formed anciently so
many separate states, each under the rule of its respective prince. Even
when two or three of them, as sometimes happened, were brought together
under one sceptre, each still maintained its own independent existence.
In their institutions these states bore great resemblance to one
another, and especially in the extent of the immunities conceded to the
citizens as compared with those enjoyed in most of the countries of
Christendom. No tax could be imposed, without the consent of an assembly
consisting of the clergy, the nobles, and the representatives of the
towns. No foreigner was eligible to office, and the native of one
province was regarded as a foreigner by every other. These were insisted
on as inalienable rights, although in later times none were more
frequently disregarded by the rulers.[369]

[Sidenote: THEIR CIVIL INSTITUTIONS.]

The condition of the commons in the Netherlands, during the Middle Ages,
was far in advance of what it was in most other European countries at
the same period. For this they were indebted to the character of the
people, or rather to the peculiar circumstances which formed that
character. Occupying a soil which had been redeemed with infinite toil
and perseverance from the waters, their life was passed in perpetual
struggle with the elements. They were early familiarized to the dangers
of the ocean. The Flemish mariner was distinguished for the intrepid
spirit with which he pushed his voyages into distant and unknown seas.
An extended commerce opened to him a wide range of observation and
experience; and to the bold and hardy character of the ancient
Netherlander was added a spirit of enterprise, with such enlarged and
liberal views as fitted him for taking part in the great concerns of the
community. Villages and towns grew up rapidly. Wealth flowed in from
this commercial activity, and the assistance which these little
communities were thus enabled to afford their princes drew from the
latter the concession of important political privileges, which
established the independence of the citizen.

The tendency of things, however, was still to maintain the distinct
individuality of the provinces, rather than to unite them into a common
political body. They were peopled by different races, speaking different
languages. In some of the provinces French was spoken, in others a
dialect of the German. Their position, moreover, had often brought these
petty states into rivalry, and sometimes into open war, with one
another. The effects of these feuds continued after the causes of them
had passed away; and mutual animosities still lingered in the breasts of
the inhabitants, operating as a permanent source of disunion.

From these causes, after the greater part of the provinces had been
brought together under the sceptre of the ducal house of Burgundy, in
the fifteenth century, it was found impossible to fuse them into one
nation. Even Charles the Fifth, with all his power and personal
influence, found himself unequal to the task.[370] He was obliged to
relinquish the idea of consolidating the different states into one
monarchy, and to content himself with the position--not too grateful to
a Spanish despot--of head of a republic, or, to speak more properly, of
a confederacy of republics.

There was, however, some approach made to a national unity in the
institution which grew up after the states were brought together under
one sceptre. Thus, while each of the provinces maintained its own courts
of justice, there was a supreme tribunal established at Mechlin, with
appellate jurisdiction over all the provincial tribunals. In like
manner, while each state had its own legislative assembly, there were
the states-general, consisting of the clergy, the nobles, and the
representatives of the towns, from each of the provinces. In this
assembly--but rarely convened--were discussed the great questions having
reference to the interests of the whole country. But the assembly was
vested with no legislative authority. It could go no further than to
present petitions to the sovereign for the redress of grievances. It
possessed no right beyond the right of remonstrance. Even in questions
of taxation, no subsidy could be settled in that body, without the
express sanction of each of the provincial legislatures. Such a form of
government, it must be admitted, was altogether too cumbrous in its
operations for efficient executive movement. It was by means favorable
to the promptness and energy demanded for military enterprise. But it
was a government which, however ill-suited in this respect to the temper
of Charles the Fifth, was well suited to the genius of the inhabitants,
and to their circumstances, which demanded peace. They had no ambition
for foreign conquest. By the arts of peace they had risen to this
unprecedented pitch of prosperity, and by peace alone, not by war, could
they hope to maintain it.

But under the long rule of the Burgundian princes, and still more under
that of Charles the Fifth, the people of the Netherlands felt the
influence of those circumstances which in other parts of Europe were
gradually compelling the popular, or rather the feudal element, to give
way to the spirit of centralization. Thus in time the sovereign claimed
the right of nominating all the higher clergy. In some instances he
appointed the judges of the provincial courts; and the supreme tribunal
of Mechlin was so far dependent on his authority, that all the judges
were named and their salaries paid by the crown. The sovereign's
authority was even stretched so far as to interfere not unfrequently
with the rights exercised by the citizens in the election of their own
magistrates,--rights that should have been cherished by them as of the
last importance. As for the nobles, we cannot over-estimate the
ascendancy which the master of an empire like that of Charles the Fifth
must have obtained over men to whom he could open such boundless
prospects in the career of ambition.[371]

But the personal character and the peculiar position of Charles tended
still further to enlarge the royal authority. He was a Fleming by birth.
He had all the tastes and habits of a Fleming. His early days had been
passed in Flanders, and he loved to return to his native land as often
as his busy life would permit him, and to seek in the free and joyous
society of the Flemish capitals some relief from the solemn ceremonial
of the Castilian court. This preference of their lord was repaid by the
people of the Netherlands with feelings of loyal devotion.

[Sidenote: THEIR COMMERCIAL PROSPERITY.]

But they had reason for feelings of deeper gratitude in the substantial
benefits which the favor of Charles secured to them. It was for Flemings
that the highest posts even in Spain were reserved, and the marked
preference thus shown by the emperor to his countrymen was one great
source of the troubles in Castile. The soldiers of the Netherlands
accompanied Charles on his military expeditions, and their cavalry had
the reputation of being the best appointed and best disciplined in the
imperial army. The vast extent of his possessions, spreading over every
quarter of the globe, offered a boundless range for the commerce of the
Netherlands, which was everywhere admitted on the most favorable
footing. Notwithstanding his occasional acts of violence and extortion,
Charles was too sagacious not to foster the material interests of a
country which contributed so essentially to his own resources. Under his
protecting policy, the industry and ingenuity of the Flemings found
ample scope in the various departments of husbandry, manufactures, and
trade. The country was as thickly studded with large towns as other
countries were with villages. In the middle of the sixteenth century it
was computed to contain above three hundred and fifty cities, and more
than six thousand three hundred towns of a smaller size.[372] These
towns were not the resort of monks and mendicants, as in other parts of
the Continent, but they swarmed with a busy, laborious population. No
man ate the bread of idleness in the Netherlands. At the period with
which we are occupied Ghent counted 70,000 inhabitants, Brussels 75,000,
and Antwerp 100,000. This was at a period when London itself contained
but 150,000.[373]

The country, fertilized by its countless canals and sluices, exhibited
everywhere that minute and patient cultivation which distinguishes it at
the present day, but which in the middle of the sixteenth century had no
parallel but in the lands tilled by the Moorish inhabitants of the south
of Spain. The ingenious spirit of the people was shown in their
dexterity in the mechanical arts, and in the talent for invention which
seems to be characteristic of a people accustomed from infancy to the
unfettered exercise of their faculties. The processes for simplifying
labor were carried so far, that children, as we are assured, began, at
four or five years of age, to earn a livelihood.[374] Each of the
principal cities became noted for its excellence in some branch or other
of manufacture. Lille was known for its woollen cloths, Brussels for its
tapestry and carpets, Valenciennes for its camlets, while the towns of
Holland and Zealand furnished a simpler staple in the form of cheese,
butter, and salted fish.[375] These various commodities were exhibited
at the great fairs held twice a year, for the space of twenty days each,
at Antwerp, which were thronged by foreigners as well as natives.

In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the Flemings imported great
quantities of wool from England, to be manufactured into cloth at home.
But Flemish emigrants had carried that manufacture to England; and in
the time of Philip the Second the cloths themselves were imported from
the latter country to the amount of above five millions of crowns
annually, and exchanged for the domestic products of the
Netherlands.[376] This single item of trade with one of their neighbors
may suggest some notion of the extent of the commerce of the Low
Countries at this period.

But in truth the commerce of the country stretched to the remotest
corners of the globe. The inhabitants of the Netherlands, trained from
early youth to battle with the waves, found their true element on the
ocean. "As much as Nature," says an enthusiastic writer, "restricted
their domain on the land, so much the more did they extend their empire
on the deep."[377] Their fleets were to be found on every sea. In the
Euxine and in the Mediterranean they were rivals of the Venetian and the
Genoese, and they contended with the English, and even with the
Spaniards, for superiority on the "narrow seas" and the great ocean.

The wealth which flowed into the country from this extended trade was
soon shown in the crowded population of its provinces and the splendor
of their capitals. At the head of these stood the city of Antwerp, which
occupied the place in the sixteenth century that Bruges had occupied in
the fifteenth, as the commercial metropolis of the Netherlands. Two
hundred and fifty vessels might often be seen at the same time taking in
their cargoes at her quays.[378] Two thousand loaded wagons from the
neighboring countries of France, Germany, and Lorraine daily passed
through her gates;[379] and a greater number of vessels, freighted with
merchandise from different quarters of the world, were to be seen
floating at the same time on the waters of the Scheldt.[380]

The city, in common with the rest of Brabant, was distinguished by
certain political privileges, which commended it as a place of residence
even to foreigners. Women of the other provinces, it is said, when the
time of their confinement drew near, would come to Brabant, that their
offspring might claim the franchises of this favored portion of the
Netherlands.[381] So jealous were the people of this province of their
liberties, that in their oath of allegiance to their sovereign, on his
accession, it was provided that this allegiance might lawfully be
withheld whenever he ceased to respect their privileges.[382]

Under the shelter of its municipal rights, foreigners settled in great
numbers in Antwerp. The English established a factory there. There was
also a Portuguese company, an Italian company, a company of merchants
from the Hanse Towns, and, lastly, a Turkish company, which took up its
residence there for the purpose of pursuing a trade with the Levant. A
great traffic was carried on in bills of exchange. Antwerp, in short,
became the banking-house of Europe; and capitalists, the Rothschilds of
their day, whose dealings were with sovereign princes, fixed their abode
in Antwerp, which was to the rest of Europe in the sixteenth century
what London is in the nineteenth,--the great heart of commercial
circulation.[383]

[Sidenote: PROTESTANT DOCTRINES]

In 1531, the public Exchange was erected, the finest building of its
kind at that time anywhere to be seen. The city, indeed, was filled with
stately edifices, the largest of which, the great cathedral, having been
nearly destroyed by fire, soon after the opening of the Exchange, was
rebuilt, and still remains a noble specimen of the architectural
science of the time. Another age was to see the walls of the same
cathedral adorned with those exquisite productions of Rubens and his
disciples, which raised the Flemish school to a level with the great
Italian masters.

The rapidly increasing opulence of the city was visible in the luxurious
accommodations and sumptuous way of living of the inhabitants. The
merchants of Antwerp rivalled the nobles of other lands in the splendor
of their dress and domestic establishments. Something of the same sort
showed itself in the middle classes; and even in those of humbler
condition, there was a comfort approaching to luxury in their
households, which attracted the notice of an Italian writer of the
sixteenth century. He commends the scrupulous regard to order and
cleanliness observed in the arrangement of the dwellings, and expresses
his admiration, not only of the careful attention given by the women to
their domestic duties, but also of their singular capacity for
conducting those business affairs usually reserved for the other sex.
This was particularly the case in Holland.[384] But this freedom of
intercourse was no disparagement to their feminine qualities. The
liberty they assumed did not degenerate into licence; and he concludes
his animated portraiture of these Flemish matrons by pronouncing them as
discreet as they were beautiful.

The humbler classes, in so abject a condition in other parts of Europe
at that day, felt the good effects of this general progress in comfort
and civilization. It was rare to find one, we are told, so illiterate as
not to be acquainted with the rudiments of grammar; and there was
scarcely a peasant who could not both read and write;[385]--this at a
time when to read and write were accomplishments not always possessed,
in other countries, by those even in the higher walks of life.

It was not possible that a people so well advanced in the elements of
civilization should long remain insensible to the great religious reform
which, having risen on their borders, was now rapidly spreading over
Christendom. Besides the contiguity of the Netherlands to Germany, their
commerce with other countries had introduced them to Protestantism as it
existed there. The foreign residents, and the Swiss and German
mercenaries quartered in the provinces, had imported along with them
these same principles of the Reformation; and lastly the Flemish nobles,
who, at that time, were much in the fashion of going abroad to study in
Geneva, returned from that stronghold of Calvin well fortified with the
doctrines of the great Reformer.[386] Thus the seeds of the Reformation,
whether in the Lutheran or the Calvinistic form, were scattered wide
over the land, and took root in a congenial soil. The phlegmatic
temperament of the northern provinces, especially, disposed them to
receive a religion which addressed itself so exclusively to the reason,
while they were less open to the influences of Catholicism, which, with
its gorgeous accessories, appealing to the passions, is better suited to
the lively sensibilities and kindling imaginations of the south.

It is not to be supposed that Charles the Fifth could long remain
insensible to this alarming defection of his subjects in the
Netherlands; nor that the man whose life was passed in battling with the
Lutherans of Germany could patiently submit to see their detested heresy
taking root in his own dominions. He dreaded this innovation no less in
a temporal than in a spiritual view. Experience had shown that freedom
of speculation in affairs of religion naturally led to free inquiry into
political abuses; that the work of the reformer was never accomplished
so long as anything remained to reform, in state as well as in church.
Charles, with the instinct of Spanish despotism, sought a remedy in one
of those acts of arbitrary power in which he indulged without scruple
when the occasion called for them.

In March, 1520, he published the first of his barbarous edicts for the
suppression of the new faith. It was followed by several others of the
same tenor, repeated at intervals throughout his reign. The last
appeared in September, 1550.[387] As this in a manner suspended those
that had preceded it, to which, however, it substantially conformed, and
as it became the basis of Philip's subsequent legislation, it will be
well to recite its chief provisions.

By this edict, or "placard," as it was called, it was ordained that all
who were convicted of heresy should suffer death "by fire, by the pit,
or by the sword;"[388] in other words, should be burned alive, be buried
alive, or be beheaded. These terrible penalties were incurred by all who
dealt in heretical books, or copied or bought them, by all who held or
attended conventicles, by all who disputed on the Scriptures in public
or private, by all who preached or defended the doctrines of reform.
Informers were encouraged by the promise of one half of the confiscated
estate of the heretic. No suspected person was allowed to make any
donation, or sell any of his effects, or dispose of them by will.
Finally, the courts were instructed to grant no remission or mitigation
of punishment under the fallacious idea of mercy to the convicted party,
and it was made penal for the friends of the accused to solicit such
indulgence on his behalf.[389]

The more thoroughly to enforce these edicts, Charles took a hint from
the terrible tribunal with which he was familiar in Spain,--the
Inquisition. He obtained a bull from his old preceptor, Adrian the
Sixth, appointing an inquisitor-general, who had authority to examine
persons suspected of heresy, to imprison and torture them, to confiscate
their property, and finally sentence them to banishment or death. These
formidable powers were intrusted to a layman,--a lawyer of eminence, and
one of the council of Brabant. But this zealous functionary employed his
authority with so good effect, that it speedily roused the general
indignation of his countrymen, who compelled him to fly for his life.

By another bull from Rome, four inquisitors were appointed in the place
of the fugitive. These inquisitors were ecclesiastics, not of the fierce
Dominican order, as in Spain, but members of the secular clergy. All
public officers were enjoined to aid them in detecting and securing
suspected persons, and the common prisons were allotted for the
confinement of their victims.

[Sidenote: PERSECUTION BY CHARLES THE FIFTH.]

The people would seem to have gained little by the substitution of four
inquisitors for one. But in fact they gained a great deal. The sturdy
resistance made to the exercise of the unconstitutional powers of the
inquisitor-general compelled Charles to bring those of the new
functionaries more within the limits of the law. For twenty years or
more their powers seem not to have been well defined. But in 1546 it was
decreed that no sentence whatever could be pronounced by an inquisitor
without the sanction of some member of the provincial council. Thus,
however barbarous the law against heresy, the people of the Netherlands
had this security, that it was only by their own regular courts of
justice that this law was to be interpreted and enforced.[390]

Such were the expedients adopted by Charles the Fifth for the
suppression of heresy in the Netherlands. Notwithstanding the name of
"inquisitors," the new establishment bore faint resemblance to the dread
tribunal of the Spanish Inquisition, with which it has been often
confounded.[391] The Holy Office presented a vast and complicated
machinery, skilfully adapted to the existing institutions of Castile. It
may be said to have formed part of the government itself, and, however
restricted in its original design, it became in time a formidable
political engine, no less than a religious one. The grand-inquisitor was
clothed with an authority before which the monarch himself might
tremble. On some occasions, he even took precedence of the monarch. The
courts of the Inquisition were distributed throughout the country, and
were conducted with a solemn pomp that belonged to no civil tribunal.
Spacious buildings were erected for their accommodation, and the
gigantic prisons of the Inquisition rose up, like impregnable
fortresses, in the principal cities of the kingdom. A swarm of menials
and officials waited to do its bidding. The proudest nobles of the land
held it an honor to serve as familiars of the Holy Office. In the midst
of this external pomp, the impenetrable veil thrown over its proceedings
took strong hold of the imagination, investing the tribunal with a sort
of supernatural terror. An individual disappeared from the busy scenes
of life. No one knew whither he had gone, till he reappeared, clothed in
the fatal garb of the _san benito_, to take part in the tragic spectacle
of an _auto da fé_. This was the great triumph of the Inquisition,
rivalling the ancient Roman triumph in the splendor of the show, and
surpassing it in the solemn and mysterious import of the ceremonial. It
was hailed with enthusiasm by the fanatical Spaniard of that day, who,
in the martyrdom of the infidel, saw only a sacrifice most acceptable to
the Deity. The Inquisition succeeded in Spain, for it was suited to the
character of the Spaniard.

But it was not suited to the free and independent character of the
people of the Netherlands. Freedom of thought they claimed as their
birthright; and the attempt to crush it by introducing the pernicious
usages of Spain was everywhere received with execration. Such an
institution was an accident, and could not become an integral part of
the constitution. It was a vicious graft on a healthy stock. It could
bear no fruit, and sooner or later it must perish.

Yet the Inquisition, such as it was, did its work while it lasted in the
Netherlands. This is true, at least, if we are to receive the popular
statement, that fifty thousand persons, in the reign of Charles the
Fifth, suffered for their religious opinions by the hand of the
executioner![392] This monstrous statement has been repeated by one
historian after another, with apparently as little distrust as
examination. It affords one among many examples of the facility with
which men adopt the most startling results, especially when conveyed in
the form of numerical estimates. There is something that strikes the
imagination, in a numerical estimate, which settles a question so
summarily, in a form so precise and so portable. Yet whoever has had
occasion to make any researches into the past,--that land of
uncertainty,--will agree that there is nothing less entitled to
confidence.

In the present instance, such a statement might seem to carry its own
refutation on the face of it. Llorente, the celebrated secretary of the
Holy Office, whose estimates will never be accused of falling short of
the amount, computes the whole number of victims sacrificed during the
first eighteen years of the Inquisition in Castile, when it was in most
active operation, at about ten thousand.[393] The storm of persecution
there, it will be remembered, fell chiefly on the Jews,--that ill-omened
race, from whom every pious Catholic would have rejoiced to see his land
purified by fire and fagot. It will hardly be believed that five times
the number of these victims perished in a country like the Netherlands,
in a term of time not quite double that occupied for their extermination
in Spain;--the Netherlands, where every instance of such persecution,
instead of being hailed as a triumph of the Cross, was regarded as a
fresh outrage on the liberties of the nation. It is not too much to say,
that such a number of martyrs as that pretended would have produced an
explosion that would have unsettled the authority of Charles himself,
and left for his successor less territory in the Netherlands at the
beginning of his reign, than he was destined to have at the end of it.

Indeed, the frequent renewal of the edicts, which was repeated no less
than nine times during Charles's administration, intimates plainly
enough the very sluggish and unsatisfactory manner in which they had
been executed. In some provinces, as Luxembourg and Groningen, the
Inquisition was not introduced at all. Gueldres stood on its privileges,
guaranteed to it by the emperor on his accession. And Brabant so
effectually remonstrated on the mischief which the mere name of the
Inquisition would do to the trade of the country, and especially of
Antwerp, its capital, that the emperor deemed it prudent to qualify some
of the provisions, and to drop the name of Inquisitor altogether.[394]
There is no way more sure of rousing the sensibilities of a commercial
people, than by touching their pockets. Charles did not care to press
matters to such extremity. He was too politic a prince, too large a
gainer by the prosperity of his people, willingly to put it in peril,
even for conscience' sake. In this lay the difference between him and
Philip.

[Sidenote: UNPOPULAR MANNERS OF PHILIP.]

Notwithstanding, therefore, his occasional abuse of power, and the
little respect he may have had at heart for the civil rights of his
subjects, the government of Charles, as already intimated, was on the
whole favorable to their commercial interests. He was well repaid by the
enlarged resources of the country, and the aid they afforded him for the
prosecution of his ambitious enterprises. In the course of a few years,
as we are informed by a contemporary, he drew from the Netherlands no
less than twenty-four millions of ducats.[395] And this
supply--furnished not ungrudgingly, it is true--was lavished, for the
most part, on objects in which the nation had no interest. In like
manner, it was the revenues of the Netherlands which defrayed great part
of Philip's expenses in the war that followed his accession. "Here,"
exclaims the Venetian envoy, Soriano, "were the true treasures of the
king of Spain; here were his mines, his Indies, which furnished Charles
with the means of carrying on his wars for so many years with the
French, the Germans, the Italians, which provided for the defence of his
own states, and maintained his dignity and reputation."[396]

Such then was the condition of the country at the time when the sceptre
passed from the hands of Charles the Fifth into those of Philip the
Second;--its broad plains teeming with the products of an elaborate
culture; its cities swarming with artisans, skilled in all kinds of
ingenious handicraft; its commerce abroad on every sea, and bringing
back rich returns from distant climes. The great body of its people,
well advanced in the arts of civilization, rejoiced in "such abundance
of all things," says a foreigner who witnessed their prosperity, "that
there was no man, however humble, who did not seem rich for his
station."[397] In this active development of their powers, the
inquisitive mind of the inhabitants naturally turned to those great
problems in religion which were agitating the neighboring countries of
France and Germany. All the efforts of Charles were unavailing to check
the spirit of inquiry; and in the last year of his reign he bitterly
confessed the total failure of his endeavor to stay the progress of
heresy in the Netherlands.[398] Well had it been for his successor, had
he taken counsel by the failure of his father, and substituted a more
lenient policy for the ineffectual system of persecution. But such was
not the policy of Philip.




CHAPTER II.

SYSTEM ESTABLISHED BY PHILIP.

Unpopular Manners of Philip.--He enforces the Edicts.--Increase of
Bishoprics.--Margaret of Parma Regent.--Meeting of the
States-General.--Their spirited Conduct.--Organization of the
Councils.--Rise and Character of Granvelle.--Philip's Departure.


1559.

Philip the Second was no stranger to the Netherlands. He had come there,
as it will be remembered, when very young, to be presented by his father
to his future subjects. On that occasion he had greatly disgusted the
people by that impenetrable reserve which they construed into
haughtiness, and which strongly contrasted with the gracious manners of
the emperor. Charles saw with pain the impression which his son had left
on his subjects; and the effects of his paternal admonitions were
visible in a marked change in Philip's deportment on his subsequent
visit to England. But nature lies deeper than manner; and when Philip
returned, on his father's abdication, to assume the sovereignty of the
Netherlands, he wore the same frigid exterior as in earlier days.

His first step was to visit the different provinces, and receive from
them their oaths of allegiance. No better occasion could be offered for
conciliating the good-will of the inhabitants. Everywhere his approach
was greeted with festivities and public rejoicing. The gates of the
capitals were thrown open to receive him, and the population thronged
out, eager to do homage to their new sovereign. It was a season of
jubilee for the whole nation.

In this general rejoicing, Philip's eye alone remained dark.[399] Shut
up in his carriage, he seemed desirous to seclude himself from the gaze
of his new subjects, who crowded around, anxious to catch a glimpse of
their young monarch.[400] His conduct seemed like a rebuke of their
enthusiasm. Thus chilled as they were in the first flow of their
loyalty, his progress through the land, which should have won him all
hearts, closed all hearts against him.

The emperor, when he visited the Netherlands, was like one coming back
to his native country. He spoke the language of the people, dressed in
their dress, conformed to their usages and way of life. But Philip was
in everything a Spaniard. He spoke only the Castilian. He adopted the
Spanish etiquette and burdensome ceremonial. He was surrounded by
Spaniards, and, with few exceptions, it was to Spaniards only that he
gave his confidence. Charles had disgusted his Spanish subjects by the
marked preference he had given to his Flemish. The reverse now took
place, and Philip displeased the Flemings by his partiality for the
Spaniards. The people of the Netherlands felt with bitterness that the
sceptre of their country had passed into the hands of a foreigner.

During his progress Philip caused reports to be prepared for him of the
condition of the several provinces, their population and
trade,--presenting a mass of statistical details, in which, with his
usual industry, he was careful to instruct himself. On his return, his
first concern was to provide for the interests of religion. He renewed
his father's edicts relating to the Inquisition, and in the following
year confirmed the "placard" respecting heresy. In doing this, he was
careful, by the politic advice of Granvelle, to conform as nearly as
possible to the language of the original edicts, that no charge of
innovation might be laid to him, and thus the odium of these unpopular
measures might remain with their original author.[401]

[Sidenote: UNPOPULAR MANNERS OF PHILIP.]

But the object which Philip had most at heart was a reform much needed
in the ecclesiastical establishment of the country. It may seem strange
that in all the Netherlands there were but three bishoprics,--Arras,
Tournay, and Utrecht. A large part of the country was incorporated with
some one or other of the contiguous German dioceses. The Flemish
bishoprics were of enormous extent. That of Utrecht alone embraced no
less than three hundred walled towns, and eleven hundred churches.[402]
It was impossible that any pastor, however diligent, could provide for
the wants of a flock so widely scattered, or that he could exercise
supervision over the clergy themselves, who had fallen into a lamentable
decay both of discipline and morals.

Still greater evils followed from the circumstance of the episcopal
authority's being intrusted to foreigners. From their ignorance of the
institutions of the Netherlands, they were perpetually trespassing on
the rights of the nation. Another evil consequence was the necessity of
carrying up ecclesiastical causes, by way of appeal, to foreign
tribunals; a thing, moreover, scarcely practicable in time of war.

Charles the Fifth, whose sagacious mind has left its impress on the
permanent legislation of the Netherlands, saw the necessity of some
reform in this matter. He accordingly applied to Rome for leave to erect
six bishoprics, in addition to those previously existing in the country.
But his attention was too much distracted by other objects to allow time
for completing his design. With his son Philip, on the other hand, no
object was allowed to come in competition with the interests of the
Church. He proposed to make the reform on a larger scale than his father
had done, and applied to Paul the Fourth for leave to create fourteen
bishoprics and three archbishoprics. The chief difficulty lay in
providing for the support of the new dignitaries. On consultation with
Granvelle, who had not been advised of the scheme till after Philip's
application to Rome, it was arranged that the income should be furnished
by the abbey lands of the respective dioceses, and that the abbeys
themselves should hereafter be placed under the control of priors or
provosts depending altogether on the bishops. Meanwhile, until the bulls
should be received from Rome, it was determined to keep the matter
profoundly secret. It was easy to foresee that a storm of opposition
would arise, not only among those immediately interested in preserving
the present order of things, but among the great body of the nobles, who
would look with an evil eye on the admission into their ranks of so
large a number of persons servilely devoted to the interests of the
crown.[403]

Having concluded his arrangements for the internal settlement of the
country, Philip naturally turned his thoughts towards Spain. He was the
more desirous of returning thither from the reports he received, that
even that orthodox land was becoming every day more tainted with the
heretical doctrines so rife in the neighboring countries. There were no
hostilities to detain him longer in the Netherlands, now that the war
with France had been brought to a close. The provinces, as we have
already stated, had furnished the king with important aid for carrying
on that war, by the grant of a stipulated annual tax for nine years.
This had not proved equal to his necessities. It was in vain, however,
to expect any further concessions from the states. They had borne, not
without murmurs, the heavy burdens laid on them by Charles,--a monarch
whom they loved. They bore still more impatiently the impositions of a
prince whom they loved so little as Philip. Yet the latter seemed ready
to make any sacrifice of his permanent interests for such temporary
relief as would extricate him from his present embarrassments. His
correspondence with Granvelle on the subject, unfolding the suicidal
schemes which he submitted to that minister, might form an edifying
chapter in the financial history of that day.[404] The difficulty of
carrying on the government of the Netherlands in this crippled state of
the finances doubtless strengthened the desire of the monarch to return
to his native land, where the manners and habits of the people were so
much more congenial with his own.

Before leaving the country, it was necessary to provide a suitable
person to whom the reins of government might be intrusted. The duke of
Savoy, who, since the emperor's abdication, had held the post of regent,
was now to return to his own dominions, restored to him by the treaty of
Cateau-Cambresis. There were several persons who presented themselves
for this responsible office in the Netherlands. One of the most
prominent was Lamoral, prince of Gavre, count of Egmont, the hero of St.
Quentin and of Gravelines. The illustrious house from which he was
descended, his chivalrous spirit, his frank and generous bearing, no
less than his brilliant military achievements, had made him the idol of
the people. There were some who insisted that these achievements
inferred rather the successful soldier than the great captain;[405] and
that, whatever merit he could boast in the field, it was no proof of his
capacity for so important a civil station as that of governor of the
Netherlands. Yet it could not be doubted that his nomination would be
most acceptable to the people. This did not recommend him to Philip.

Another candidate was Christine, duchess of Lorraine, the king's cousin.
The large estates of her house lay in the neighborhood of the
Netherlands. She had shown her talent for political affairs by the part
she had taken in effecting the arrangements of Cateau-Cambresis. The
prince of Orange, lately become a widower, was desirous, it was said, of
marrying her daughter. Neither did this prove a recommendation with
Philip, who was by no means anxious to raise the house of Orange higher
in the scale, still less to intrust it with the destinies of the
Netherlands. In a word, the monarch had no mind to confide the regency
of the country to any one of its powerful nobles.[406]

The individual on whom the king at length decided to bestow this mark of
his confidence was his half-sister, Margaret, duchess of Parma. She was
the natural daughter of Charles the Fifth, born about four years before
his marriage with Isabella of Portugal. Margaret's mother, Margaret
Vander Gheenst, belonged to a noble Flemish house. Her parents both died
during her infancy. The little orphan was received into the family of
Count Hoogstraten, who, with his wife, reared her with the same
tenderness as they did their own offspring. At the age of seventeen she
was unfortunate enough to attract the eye of Charles the Fifth, who,
then in his twenty-third year, was captivated by the charms of the
Flemish maiden. Margaret's virtue was not proof against the seductions
of her royal suitor; and the victim of love--or of vanity--became the
mother of a child, who received her own name of Margaret.

[Sidenote: MARGARET OF PARMA REGENT.]

The emperor's aunt, then regent of the Netherlands, took charge of the
infant; and on the death of that princess, she was taken into the family
of the emperor's sister, Mary, queen of Hungary, who succeeded in the
regency. Margaret's birth did not long remain a secret; and she received
an education suited to the high station she was to occupy in life. When
only twelve years of age, the emperor gave her in marriage to Alexander
de'Medici, grand duke of Tuscany, some fifteen years older than herself.
The ill-fated connection did not subsist long, as, before twelve months
had elapsed, it was terminated by the violent death of her husband.

When she had reached the age of womanhood, the hand of the young widow
was bestowed, together with the duchies of Parma and Placentia as her
dowry, on Ottavio Farnese, grandson of Paul the Third. The bridegroom
was but twelve years old. Thus again it was Margaret's misfortune that
there should be such disparity between her own age and that of her
husband as to exclude anything like sympathy or similarity in their
tastes. In the present instance, the boyish years of Ottavio inspired
her with a sentiment not very different from contempt, that in later
life settled into an indifference in which both parties appear to have
shared, and which, as a contemporary remarks with _naïveté_, was only
softened into a kindlier feeling when the husband and wife had been long
separated from each other.[407] In truth, Margaret was too ambitious of
power to look on her husband in any other light than that of a rival.

In her general demeanor, her air, her gait, she bore great resemblance
to her aunt, the regent. Like her, Margaret was excessively fond of
hunting, and she followed the chase with an intrepidity that might have
daunted the courage of the keenest sportsman. She had but little of the
natural softness that belongs to the sex, but in her whole deportment
was singularly masculine; so that, to render the words of the historian
by a homely phrase, in her woman's dress she seemed like a man in
petticoats.[408] As if to add to the illusion, Nature had given her
somewhat of a beard; and, to crown the whole, the malady to which she
was constitutionally subject was a disease to which women are but rarely
liable,--the gout.[409] It was good evidence of her descent from Charles
the Fifth.

Though masculine in her appearance, Margaret was not destitute of the
kindlier qualities which are the glory of her sex. Her disposition was
good; but she relied much on the advice of others, and her more
objectionable acts may probably be referred rather to their influence
than to any inclination of her own.

Her understanding was excellent, her apprehension quick. She showed much
versatility in accommodating herself to the exigencies of her position,
as well as adroitness in the management of affairs, which she may have
acquired in the schools of Italian politics. In religion she was as
orthodox as Philip the Second could desire. The famous Ignatius Loyola
had been her confessor in early days. The lessons of humility which he
inculcated were not lost on her, as may be inferred from the care she
took to perform the ceremony, in Holy Week, of washing the dirty
feet--she preferred them in this condition--of twelve poor maidens;[410]
outstripping, in this particular, the humility of the pope
himself.--Such was the character of Margaret, duchess of Parma, who now,
in the thirty-eighth year of her age, was called, at a most critical
period, to take the helm of the Netherlands.

The appointment seems to have given equal satisfaction to herself and to
her husband, and no objection was made to Philip's purpose of taking
back with him to Castile their little son, Alexander Farnese,--a name
destined to become in later times so renowned in the Netherlands. The
avowed purpose was to give the boy a training suited to his rank, under
the eye of Philip; combined with which, according to the historian, was
the desire of holding a hostage for the fidelity of Margaret and of her
husband, whose dominions in Italy lay contiguous to those of Philip in
that country.[411]

Early in June, 1559, Margaret of Parma, having reached the Low
Countries, made her entrance in great state into Brussels, where Philip
awaited her, surrounded by his whole court of Spanish and Flemish
nobles. The duke of Savoy was also present, as well as Margaret's
husband, the duke of Parma, then in attendance on Philip. The
appointment of Margaret was not distasteful to the people of the
Netherlands, for she was their countrywoman, and her early days had been
passed amongst them. Her presence was not less welcome to Philip, who
looked forward with eagerness to the hour of his departure. His first
purpose was to present the new regent to the nation, and for this he
summoned a meeting of the States-General at Ghent, in the coming August.

On the twenty-fifth of July, he repaired with his court to this ancient
capital, which still smarted under the effects of that chastisement of
his father, which, terrible as it was, had not the power to break the
spirits of the men of Ghent. The presence of the court was celebrated
with public rejoicings, which continued for three days, during which
Philip held a chapter of the Golden Fleece for the election of fourteen
knights. The ceremony was conducted with the magnificence with which the
meetings of this illustrious order were usually celebrated. It was
memorable as the last chapter of it ever held.[412] Founded by the dukes
of Burgundy, the order of the Golden Fleece drew its members immediately
from the nobility of the Netherlands. When the Spanish sovereign, who
remained at its head, no more resided in the country, the chapters were
discontinued; and the knights derived their appointment from the simple
nomination of the monarch.

On the eighth of August, the States-General assembled at Ghent. The
sturdy burghers who took their seats in this body came thither in no
very friendly temper to the government. Various subjects of complaint
had long been rankling in their bosoms, and now found vent in the form
of animated and angry debate. The people had been greatly alarmed by the
avowed policy of their rulers to persevere in the system of religious
persecution, as shown especially by the revival of the ancient edicts
against heresy and in support of the Inquisition. Rumors had gone
abroad, probably with exaggeration, of the proposed episcopal reforms.
However necessary, they were now regarded only as part of the great
scheme of persecution. Different nations, it was urged, required to be
guided by different laws. What suited the Spaniards would not for that
reason suit the people of the Netherlands. The Inquisition was ill
adapted to men accustomed from their cradles to freedom of thought and
action. Persecution was not to be justified in matters of conscience,
and men were not to be reclaimed from spiritual error by violence, but
by gentleness and persuasion.

[Sidenote: MEETING OF THE STATES-GENERAL.]

But what most called forth the invective of the Flemish orators was the
presence of a large body of foreign troops in the country. When Philip
disbanded his forces after the French war had terminated, there still
remained a corps of the old Spanish infantry, amounting to some three or
four thousands, which he thought proper to retain in the western
provinces. His avowed object was to protect the country from any
violence on the part of the French. Another reason assigned by him was
the difficulty of raising funds to pay their arrears. The true motive,
in the opinion of the states, was to enforce the execution of the new
measures, and overcome any resistance that might be made in the country.
These troops, like most of the soldiers of that day, who served for
plunder quite as much as for pay, had as little respect for the rights
or the property of their allies, as for those of their enemies. They
quartered themselves on the peaceful inhabitants of the country, and
obtained full compensation for loss of pay by a system of rapine and
extortion that beggared the people, and drove them to desperation.
Conflicts with the soldiery occasionally occurred, and in some parts the
peasantry even refused to repair the dikes, in order to lay the country
under water rather than submit to such outrages! "How is it," exclaimed
the bold syndic of Ghent, "that we find foreign soldiers thus quartered
on us, in open violation of our liberties? Are not our own troops able
to protect us from the dangers of invasion? Must we be ground to the
dust by the exactions of these mercenaries in peace, after being
burdened with the maintenance of them in war?" These remonstrances were
followed by a petition to the throne, signed by members of the other
orders as well as the commons, requesting that the king would be
graciously pleased to respect the privileges of the nation, and send
back the foreign troops to their own homes.

Philip, who sat in the assembly with his sister, the future regent, by
his side, was not prepared for this independent spirit in the burghers
of the Netherlands. The royal ear had been little accustomed to this
strain of invective from the subject. For it was rare that the tone of
remonstrance was heard in the halls of Castilian legislation, since the
power of the commons had been broken on the field of Villalar. Unable or
unwilling to conceal his displeasure, the king descended from his
throne, and abruptly quitted the assembly.[413]

Yet he did not, like Charles the First of England, rashly vent his
indignation by imprisoning or persecuting the members who had roused it.
Even the stout syndic of Ghent was allowed to go unharmed. Philip looked
above him to a mark more worthy of his anger,--to those of the higher
orders who had encouraged the spirit of resistance in the commons. The
most active of these malecontents was William of Orange. That noble, as
it may be remembered, was one of the hostages who remained at the Court
of Henry the Second for the fulfilment of the treaty of
Cateau-Cambresis. While there, a strange disclosure was made to the
prince by the French monarch, who told him that, through the duke of
Alva, a secret treaty had been entered into with his master, the king of
Spain, for the extirpation of heresy throughout their dominions. This
inconsiderate avowal of the French king was made to William on the
supposition that he was stanch in the Roman Catholic faith, and entirely
in his master's confidence. Whatever may have been the prince's claims
to orthodoxy at this period, it is certain he was not in Philip's
confidence. It is equally certain that he possessed one Christian virtue
which belonged neither to Philip nor to Henry,--the virtue of
toleration. Greatly shocked by the intelligence he had received, William
at once communicated it to several of his friends in the Netherlands.
One of the letters unfortunately fell into Philip's hands. The prince
soon after obtained permission to return to his own country, bent, as he
tells us in his Apology, on ridding it of the Spanish vermin.[414]
Philip, who understood the temper of his mind, had his eye on his
movements, and knew well to what source, in part at least, he was to
attribute the present opposition. It was not long after, that a
Castilian courtier intimated to the prince of Orange and to Egmont, that
it would be well for them to take heed to themselves; that the names of
those who had signed the petition for the removal of the troops had been
noted down, and that Philip and his council were resolved, when a
fitting occasion offered, to call them to a heavy reckoning for their
temerity.[415]

Yet the king so far yielded to the wishes of the people as to promise
the speedy departure of the troops. But no power on earth could have
been strong enough to shake his purpose where the interests of religion
were involved. Nor would he abate one jot of the stern provisions of the
edicts. When one of his ministers, more hardy than the rest, ventured to
suggest to him that perseverance in this policy might cost him the
sovereignty of the provinces, "Better not reign at all," he answered,
"than reign over heretics!"[416]--an answer extolled by some as the
height of the sublime, by others derided as the extravagance of a
fanatic. In whatever light we view it, it must be admitted to furnish
the key to the permanent policy of Philip in his government of the
Netherlands.

Before dissolving the States-General, Philip, unacquainted with the
language of the country, addressed the deputies through the mouth of the
bishop of Arras. He expatiated on the warmth of his attachment to his
good people of the Netherlands, and paid them a merited tribute for
their loyalty both to his father and to himself. He enjoined on them to
show similar respect to the regent, their own countrywoman, into whose
hands he had committed the government. They would reverence the laws and
maintain public tranquillity. Nothing would conduce to this so much as
the faithful execution of the edicts. It was their sacred duty to aid in
the extermination of heretics,--the deadliest foes both of God and their
sovereign. Philip concluded by assuring the states that he should soon
return in person to the Netherlands, or send his son Don Carlos as his
representative.

The answer of the legislature was temperate and respectful. They made no
allusion to Philip's proposed ecclesiastical reforms, as he had not
authorized this by any allusion to them himself. They still pressed,
however, the removal of the foreign troops, and the further removal of
all foreigners from office, as contrary to the constitution of the land.
This last shaft was aimed at Granvelle, who held a high post in the
government, and was understood to be absolute in the confidence of the
king. Philip renewed his assurances of the dismissal of the forces, and
that within the space, as he promised, of four months. The other request
of the deputies he did not condescend to notice. His feelings on the
subject were intimated in an exclamation he made to one of his
ministers: "I too am a foreigner; will they refuse to obey me as their
sovereign?"[417]

[Sidenote: ORGANIZATION OF THE COUNCILS.]

The regent was to be assisted in the government by three councils which
of old time had existed in the land;--the council of finance, for the
administration, as the name implies, of the revenues; the privy council,
for affairs of justice and the internal concerns of the country; and the
council of state, for matters relating to peace and war, and the foreign
policy of the nation. Into this last, the supreme council, entered
several of the Flemish nobles, and among them the prince of Orange and
Count Egmont. There were, besides, Count Barlaimont, president of the
council of finance, Viglius, president of the privy council, and lastly
Granvelle, bishop of Arras.

The regent was to act with the coöperation of these several bodies in
their respective departments. In the conduct of the government, she was
to be guided by the council of state. But by private instructions of
Philip, questions of a more delicate nature, involving the tranquillity
of the country, might be first submitted to a select portion of this
council; and in such cases, or when a spirit of faction had crept into
the council, the regent, if she deemed it for the interest of the state,
might adopt the opinion of the minority. The select body with whom
Margaret was to advise in the more important matters was termed the
_Consulta_; and the members who composed it were Barlaimont, Viglius,
and the bishop of Arras.[418]

The first of these men, Count Barlaimont, belonged to an ancient Flemish
family. With respectable talents and constancy of purpose, he was
entirely devoted to the interests of the crown. The second, Viglius, was
a jurist of extensive erudition, at this time well advanced in years,
and with infirmities that might have pressed heavily on a man less
patient of toil. He was personally attached to Granvelle; and as his
views of government coincided very nearly with that minister's, Viglius
was much under his influence. The last of the three, Granvelle, from his
large acquaintance with affairs, and his adroitness in managing them,
was far superior to his colleagues;[419] and he soon acquired such an
ascendancy over them, that the government may be said to have rested on
his shoulders. As there is no man who for some years is to take so
prominent a part in the story of the Netherlands, it will be proper to
introduce the reader to some acquaintance with his earlier history.

Anthony Perrenot--whose name of Granvelle was derived from an estate
purchased by his father--was born in the year 1517, at Besançon, a town
in Franche Comté. His father, Nicholas Perrenot, founded the fortunes of
the family, and from the humble condition of a poor country attorney
rose to the rank of chancellor of the empire. This extraordinary
advancement was not owing to caprice, but to his unwearied industry,
extensive learning, and a clear and comprehensive intellect, combined
with steady devotion to the interests of his master, Charles the Fifth.
His talent for affairs led him to be employed not merely in official
business, but in diplomatic missions of great importance. In short, he
possessed the confidence of the emperor to a degree enjoyed by no other
subject; and when the chancellor died, in 1550, Charles pronounced his
eulogy to Philip in a single sentence, saying that in Granvelle they had
lost the man on whose wisdom they could securely repose.[420]

Anthony Perrenot, distinguished from his father in later times as
Cardinal Granvelle, was the eldest of eleven children. In his childhood
he discovered such promise, that the chancellor bestowed much pains
personally on his instruction. At fourteen he was sent to Padua, and
after some years was removed to Louvain, then the university of greatest
repute in the Netherlands. It was not till later that the seminary of
Douay was founded, under the auspices of Philip the Second.[421] At the
university, the young Perrenot soon distinguished himself by the
vivacity of his mind, the acuteness of his perceptions, an industry
fully equal to his father's, and remarkable powers of acquisition.
Besides a large range of academic study, he made himself master of seven
languages, so as to read and converse in them with fluency. He seemed to
have little relish for the amusements of the youth of his own age. His
greatest amusement was a book. Under this incessant application his
health gave way, and for a time his studies were suspended.

Whether from his father's preference or his own, young Granvelle
embraced the ecclesiastical profession. At the age of twenty-one he was
admitted to orders. The son of the chancellor was not slow in his
advancement, and he was soon possessed of several good benefices. But
the ambitious and worldly temper of Granvelle was not to be satisfied
with the humble duties of the ecclesiastic. It was not long before he
was called to court by his father, and there a brilliant career was
opened to his aspiring genius.

The young man soon showed such talent for business, and such shrewd
insight into character, as, combined with the stores of learning he had
at his command, made his services of great value to his father. He
accompanied the chancellor on some of his public missions, among others
to the Council of Trent, where the younger Granvelle, who had already
been promoted to the see of Arras, first had the opportunity of
displaying that subtle, insinuating eloquence, which captivated as much
as it convinced.

[Sidenote: RISE AND CHARACTER OF GRANVELLE.]

The emperor saw with satisfaction the promise afforded by the young
statesman, and looked forward to the time when he would prove the same
pillar of support to his administration that his father had been before
him. Nor was that time far distant. As the chancellor's health declined,
the son became more intimately associated with his father in the
counsels of the emperor. He justified this confidence by the unwearied
toil with which he devoted himself to the business of the cabinet; a
toil to which even night seemed to afford no respite. He sometimes
employed five secretaries at once, dictating to them in as many
different languages.[422] The same thing, or something as miraculous,
has been told of other remarkable men, both before and since. As a mere
_tour de force_ Granvelle may possibly have amused himself with it. But
it was not in this way that the correspondence was written which
furnishes the best key to the events of the time. If it had been so
written, it would never have been worth the publication.

Every evening Granvelle presented himself before the emperor, and read
to him the programme he had prepared of the business of the following
day, with his own suggestions.[423] The foreign ambassadors who resided
at the court were surprised to find the new minister so entirely in the
secrets of his master; and that he was as well instructed in all their
doings as the emperor himself.[424] In short, the confidence of Charles,
given slowly and with much hesitation, was at length bestowed as freely
on the son as it had been on the father. The two Granvelles may be truly
said to have been the two persons who most possessed the confidence of
the emperor, from the time that he took the reins of government into his
own hands.

When raised to the see of Arras, Granvelle was but twenty-five years
old. It is rare that the mitre has descended on a man of a more
ambitious spirit. Yet Granvelle was not averse to the good things of the
world, nor altogether insensible to its pomps and vanities. He affected
great state in his manner of living, and thus necessity, no less than
taste, led him to covet the possession of wealth as well as of power. He
obtained both; and his fortunes were rapidly advancing when, by the
abdication of his royal master, the sceptre passed into the hands of
Philip the Second.

Charles recommended Granvelle to his son as every way deserving of his
confidence. Granvelle knew that the best recommendation--the only
effectual one--must come from himself. He studied carefully the
character of his new sovereign, and showed a wonderful flexibility in
conforming to his humors. The ambitious minister proved himself no
stranger to those arts by which great minds, as well as little ones,
sometimes condescend to push their fortunes in a court.

Yet, in truth, Granvelle did not always do violence to his own
inclinations in conforming to those of Philip. Like the king, he did not
come rapidly to results, but pondered long, and viewed a question in all
its bearings, before arriving at a decision. He had, as we have seen,
the same patient spirit of application as Philip, so that both may be
said to have found their best recreation in labor. Neither was he less
zealous than the king for the maintenance of the true faith, though his
accommodating nature, if left to itself, might have sanctioned a
different policy from that dictated by the stern, uncompromising spirit
of his master.

Granvelle's influence was further aided by the charms of his personal
intercourse. His polished and insinuating manners seem to have melted
even the icy reserve of Philip. He maintained his influence by his
singular tact in suggesting hints for carrying out his master's policy,
in such a way that the suggestion might seem to have come from the king
himself. Thus careful not to alarm the jealousy of his sovereign, he was
content to forego the semblance of power for the real possession of
it.[425]

It was soon seen that he was as well settled in the confidence of Philip
as he had previously been in that of Charles. Notwithstanding the
apparent distribution of power between the regent and the several
councils, the arrangements made by the king were such as to throw the
real authority into the hands of Granvelle. Thus the rare example was
afforded of the same man continuing the favorite of two successive
sovereigns. Granvelle did not escape the usual fate of favorites; and
whether from the necessity of the case, or that, as some pretend, he did
not on his elevation bear his faculties too meekly, no man was so
generally and so heartily detested throughout the country.[426]

Before leaving the Netherlands, Philip named the governors of the
several provinces,--the nominations, for the most part, only confirming
those already in office. Egmont had the governments of Flanders and
Artois; the prince of Orange, those of Holland, Zealand, Utrecht, and
West Friesland. The commission to William, running in the usual form,
noticed "the good, loyal, and notable services he had rendered both to
the emperor and his present sovereign."[427] The command of two
battalions of the Spanish army was also given to the two nobles,--a poor
contrivance for reconciling the nation to the continuance of these
detested troops in the country.

Philip had anxiously waited for the arrival of the papal bull which was
to authorize the erection of the bishoprics. Granvelle looked still more
anxiously for it. He had read the signs of the coming storm, and would
gladly have encountered it when the royal presence might have afforded
some shelter from its fury. But the court of Rome moved at its usual
dilatory pace, and the apostolic nuncio did not arrive with the missive
till the eve of Philip's departure,--too late for him to witness its
publication.[428]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S DEPARTURE.]

Having completed all his arrangements, about the middle of August the
king proceeded to Zealand, where, in the port of Flushing, lay a gallant
fleet, waiting to take him and the royal suite to Spain. It consisted of
fifty Spanish and forty other vessels,--all well manned, and victualled
for a much longer voyage.[429] Philip was escorted to the place of
embarkation by a large body of Flemish nobles, together with the foreign
ambassadors and the duke and duchess of Savoy. A curious scene is
reported to have taken place as he was about to go on board. Turning
abruptly round to the prince of Orange, who had attended him on the
journey, he bluntly accused him of being the true source of the
opposition which his measures had encountered in the States-General.
William, astonished at the suddenness of the attack, replied that the
opposition was to be regarded, not as the act of an individual, but of
the states. "No," rejoined the incensed monarch, shaking him at the same
time violently by the wrist, "not the states, but you, you, you!"[430]
an exclamation deriving additional bitterness from the fact that the
word _you_, thus employed, in the Castilian was itself indicative of
contempt. William did not think it prudent to reply, nor did he care to
trust himself with the other Flemish lords on board the royal
squadron.[431]

The royal company being at length all on board, on the twentieth of
August, 1559, the fleet weighed anchor; and Philip, taking leave of the
duke and duchess of Savoy, and the rest of the noble train who attended
his embarkation, was soon wafted from the shores,--to which he was never
to return.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Luc-Jean-Joseph Vandervynckt, to whom I have repeatedly had
     occasion to refer in the course of the preceding chapter, was a
     Fleming,--born at Ghent in 1691. He was educated to the law, became
     eminent in his profession, and at the age of thirty-eight was made
     a member of the council of Flanders. He employed his leisure in
     studying the historical antiquities of his own country. At the
     suggestion of Coblentz, prime minister of Maria Theresa, he
     compiled his work on the Troubles of the Netherlands. It was
     designed for the instruction of the younger branches of the
     imperial family, and six copies only of it were at first printed,
     in 1765. Since the author's death, which took place in 1779, when
     he had reached the great age of eighty-eight, the work has been
     repeatedly published.

     As Vandervynckt had the national archives thrown open to his
     inspection, he had access to the most authentic sources of
     information. He was a man of science and discernment, fair-minded,
     and temperate in his opinions, which gives value to a book that
     contains, moreover, much interesting anecdote, not elsewhere to be
     found. The work, though making only four volumes, covers a large
     space of historical ground,--from the marriage of Philip the Fair,
     in 1495, to the peace of Westphalia, in 1648. Its literary
     execution is by no means equal to its other merits. The work is
     written in French; but Vandervynckt, unfortunately, while he both
     wrote and spoke Flemish, and even Latin, with facility, was but
     indifferently acquainted with French.




CHAPTER III.

PROTESTANTISM IN SPAIN.

Philip's Arrival in Spain.--The Reformed Doctrines.--Their
Suppression.--Autos da Fé.--Prosecution of Carranza.--Extinction of
Heresy.--Fanaticism of the Spaniards.

1559.


The voyage of King Philip was a short and prosperous one. On the
twenty-ninth of August, 1559, he arrived off the port of Laredo. But
while he was in sight of land, the weather, which had been so
propitious, suddenly changed. A furious tempest arose, which scattered
his little navy. Nine of the vessels foundered, and though the monarch
had the good fortune, under the care of an experienced pilot, to make
his escape in a boat, and reach the shore in safety, he had the
mortification to see the ship which had borne him go down with the rest,
and with her the inestimable cargo he had brought from the Low
Countries. It consisted of curious furniture, tapestries, gems, pieces
of sculpture, and paintings,--the rich productions of Flemish and
Italian art, which his father, the emperor, had been employed many years
of his life in collecting. Truly was it said of Charles, that "he had
sacked the land only to feed the ocean."[432] To add to the calamity,
more than a thousand persons perished in this shipwreck.[433]

The king, without delay, took the road to Valladolid; but on arriving at
that capital, whether depressed by his late disaster, or from his
habitual dislike of such empty parade, he declined the honors, with
which the loyal inhabitants would have greeted the return of their
sovereign to his dominions. Here he was cordially welcomed by his
sister, the Regent Joanna, who, long since weary of the cares of
sovereignty, resigned the sceptre into his hands, with a better will
than that with which most persons would have received it. Here, too, he
had the satisfaction of embracing his son Carlos, the heir to his
empire. The length of Philip's absence may have allowed him to see some
favorable change in the person of the young prince, though, if report be
true, there was little change for the better in his disposition, which,
headstrong and imperious, had already begun to make men tremble for the
future destinies of their country.

Philip had not been many days in Valladolid when his presence was
celebrated by one of those exhibitions, which, unhappily for Spain,
maybe called national. This was an _auto da fé_, not, however, as
formerly, of Jews and Moors, but of Spanish Protestants. The Reformation
had been silently, but not slowly, advancing in the Peninsula; and
intelligence of this, as we have already seen, was one cause of Philip's
abrupt departure from the Netherlands. The brief but disastrous attempt
at a religious revolution in Spain is an event of too much importance to
be passed over in silence by the historian.

[Sidenote: THE REFORMED DOCTRINES.]

Notwithstanding the remote position of Spain, under the imperial sceptre
of Charles she was brought too closely into contact with the other
states of Europe not to feel the shock of the great religious reform
which was shaking those states to their foundations. Her most intimate
relations, indeed, were with those very countries in which the seeds of
the Reformation were first planted. It was no uncommon thing for
Spaniards, in the sixteenth century, to be indebted for some portion of
their instruction to German universities. Men of learning, who
accompanied the emperor, became familiar with the religious doctrines so
widely circulated in Germany and Flanders. The troops gathered the same
doctrines from the Lutheran soldiers, who occasionally served with them
under the imperial banners. These opinions, crude for the most part as
they were, they brought back to their own country; and a curiosity was
roused which prepared the mind for the reception of the great truths
which were quickening the other nations of Europe. Men of higher
education, on their return to Spain, found the means of disseminating
these truths. Secret societies were established; meetings were held;
and, with the same secrecy as in the days of the early Christians, the
Gospel was preached and explained to the growing congregation of the
faithful. The greatest difficulty was the want of books. The enterprise
of a few self-devoted proselytes at length overcame this difficulty.

A Castilian version of the Bible had been printed in Germany. Various
Protestant publications, whether originating in the Castilian or
translated into that language, appeared in the same country. A copy, now
and then, in the possession of some private individual, had found its
way, without detection, across the Pyrenees. These instances were rare,
when a Spaniard named Juan Hernandez, resident in Geneva, where he
followed the business of a corrector of the press, undertook, from no
other motive but zeal for the truth, to introduce a larger supply of the
forbidden fruit into his native land.

With great adroitness, he evaded the vigilance of the custom-house
officers, and the more vigilant spies of the Inquisition, and in the end
succeeded in landing two large casks filled with prohibited works, which
were quickly distributed among the members of the infant church. Other
intrepid converts followed the example of Hernandez, and with similar
success; so that, with the aid of books and spiritual teachers, the
number of the faithful multiplied daily throughout the country.[434]
Among this number was a much larger proportion, it was observed, of
persons of rank and education than is usually found in like cases; owing
doubtless to the circumstance that it was this class of persons who had
most frequented the countries where the Lutheran doctrines were taught.
Thus the Reformed Church grew and prospered, not indeed as it had
prospered in the freer atmospheres of Germany and Britain, but as well
as it could possibly do under the blighting influence of the
Inquisition; like some tender plant, which, nurtured in the shade, waits
only for a more genial season for its full expansion. That season was
not in reserve for it in Spain.

It may seem strange that the spread of the Reformed religion should so
long have escaped the detection of the agents of the Holy Office. Yet it
is certain that the first notice which the Spanish inquisitors received
of the fact was from their brethren abroad. Some ecclesiastics in the
train of Philip, suspecting the heresy of several of their own
countrymen in the Netherlands, had them seized and sent to Spain, to be
examined by the Inquisition. On a closer investigation, it was found
that a correspondence had long been maintained between these persons and
their countrymen, of a similar persuasion with themselves, at home. Thus
the existence, though not the extent, of the Spanish Reformation was
made known.[435]

No sooner was the alarm sounded, than Paul the Fourth, quick to follow
up the scent of heresy in any quarter of his pontifical dominions,
issued a brief, in February, 1558, addressed to the Spanish
inquisitor-general. In this brief, his holiness enjoins it on the head
of the tribunal to spare no efforts to detect and exterminate the
growing evil; and he empowers that functionary to arraign and bring to
condign punishment all suspected of heresy, of whatever rank or
profession,--whether bishops or archbishops, nobles, kings, or emperors.
Paul the Fourth was fond of contemplating himself as seated in the chair
of the Innocents and the Gregories, and like them setting his pontifical
foot on the necks of princes. His natural arrogance was probably not
diminished by the concessions which Philip the Second had thought proper
to make to him at the close of the Roman war.

Philip, far from taking umbrage at the swelling tone of this apostolical
mandate, followed it up, in the same year, by a monstrous edict,
borrowed from one in the Netherlands, which condemned all who bought,
sold, or read prohibited works to be burned alive.

In the following January, Paul, to give greater efficacy to this edict,
published another bull, in which he commanded all confessors, under pain
of excommunication, to enjoin on their penitents to inform against all
persons, however nearly allied to them, who might be guilty of such
practices. To quicken the zeal of the informer, Philip, on his part,
revived a law fallen somewhat into disuse, by which the accuser was to
receive one fourth of the confiscated property of the convicted party.
And finally, a third bull from Paul allowed the inquisitors to withhold
a pardon from the recanting heretic, if any doubt existed of his
sincerity; thus placing the life as well as fortune of the unhappy
prisoner entirely at the mercy of judges who had an obvious interest in
finding him guilty. In this way the pope and the king continued to play
into each other's hands, and while his holiness artfully spread the
toils, the king devised the means for driving the quarry into them.[436]

Fortunately for these plans, the Inquisition was at this time under the
direction of a man peculiarly fitted to execute them. This was Fernando
Valdés, cardinal-archbishop of Seville, a person of a hard, inexorable
nature, and possessed of as large a measure of fanaticism as ever fell
to a grand-inquisitor since the days of Torquemada. Valdés readily
availed himself of the terrible machinery placed under his control.
Careful not to alarm the suspected parties, his approaches were slow and
stealthy. He was the chief of a tribunal which sat in darkness, and
which dealt by invisible agents. He worked long and silently under
ground before firing the mine which was to bury his enemies in a general
ruin.

[Sidenote: SUPPRESSION OF THE REFORM.]

His spies were everywhere abroad, mingling with the suspected, and
insinuating themselves into their confidence. At length, by the
treachery of some, and by working on the nervous apprehensions or the
religions scruples of others, he succeeded in detecting the
lurking-places of the new heresy, and the extent of ground which it
covered. This was much larger than had been imagined, although the
Reformation in Spain seemed less formidable from the number of its
proselytes than from their character and position. Many of them were
ecclesiastics, especially intrusted with maintaining the purity of the
faith. The quarters in which the heretical doctrines most prevailed were
Aragon, which held an easy communication with the Huguenots of France,
and the ancient cities of Seville and Valladolid, indebted less to any
local advantages than to the influence of a few eminent men, who had
early embraced the faith of the Reformers.

At length, the preliminary information having been obtained, the
proscribed having been marked out, the plan of attack settled, an order
was given for the simultaneous arrest of all persons suspected of
heresy, throughout the kingdom. It fell like a thunderbolt on the
unhappy victims, who had gone on with their secret associations, little
suspecting the ruin that hung over them. No resistance was attempted.
Men and women, churchmen and laymen, persons of all ranks and
professions, were hurried from their homes, and lodged in the secret
chambers of the Inquisition. Yet these could not furnish accommodations
for the number, and many were removed to the ordinary prisons, and even
to convents and private dwellings. In Seville alone eight hundred were
arrested on the first day. Fears were entertained of an attempt at
rescue, and an additional guard was stationed over the places of
confinement. The inquisitors were in the condition of a fisherman whose
cast has been so successful that the draught of fishes seems likely to
prove too heavy for his net.[437]

The arrest of one party gradually led to the detection of others.
Dragged from his solitary dungeon before the secret tribunal of the
Inquisition, alone, without counsel to aid or one friendly face to cheer
him, without knowing the name of his accuser, without being allowed to
confront the witnesses who were there to swear away his life, without
even a sight of his own process, except such garbled extracts as the
wily judges thought fit to communicate, is it strange that the unhappy
victim, in his perplexity and distress, should have been drawn into
disclosures fatal to his associates and himself? If these disclosures
were not to the mind of his judges, they had only to try the efficacy of
the torture,--the rack, the cord, and the pulley,--until, when every
joint had been wrenched from its socket, the barbarous tribunal was
compelled to suspend, not terminate, the application, from the inability
of the sufferer to endure it. Such were the dismal scenes enacted in the
name of religion, and by the ministers of religion, as well as of the
Inquisition,--scenes to which few of those who had once witnessed them,
and escaped with life, dared ever to allude. For to reveal the secrets
of the Inquisition was death.[438]

At the expiration of eighteen months from the period of the first
arrests, many of the trials had been concluded, the doom of the
prisoners was sealed, and it was thought time that the prisons should
disgorge their superfluous inmates. Valladolid was selected as the
theatre of the first _auto da fé_, both from the importance of the
capital and the presence of the court, which would thus sanction and
give greater dignity to the celebration. This event took place in May,
1559. The Regent Joanna, the young prince of the Asturias, Don Carlos,
and the principal grandees of the court, were there to witness the
spectacle. By rendering the heir of the crown thus early familiar with
the tender mercies of the Holy Office, it may have been intended to
conciliate his favor to that institution. If such was the object,
according to the report it signally failed, since the woeful spectacle
left no other impressions on the mind of the prince than those of
indignation and disgust.

The example of Valladolid was soon followed by _autos da fé_ in Granada,
Toledo, Seville, Barcelona,--in short, in the twelve capitals in which
tribunals of the Holy Office were established. A second celebration at
Valladolid was reserved for the eighth of October in the same year, when
it would be graced by the presence of the sovereign himself. Indeed, as
several of the processes had been concluded some months before this
period, there is reason to believe that the sacrifice of more than one
of the victims had been postponed, in order to give greater effect to
the spectacle.[439]

The _auto da fé_--"act of faith"--was the most imposing, as it was the
most awful, of the solemnities authorized by the Roman Catholic Church.
It was intended, somewhat profanely, as has been intimated, to combine
the pomp of the Roman triumph with the terrors of the day of
judgment.[440] It may remind one quite as much of those bloody festivals
prepared for the entertainment of the Cæsars in the Colisæum. The
religions import of the _auto da fé_ was intimated by the circumstance
of its being celebrated on a Sunday, or some other holiday of the
Church. An indulgence for forty days was granted by his holiness to all
who should be present at the spectacle; as if the appetite for
witnessing the scenes of human suffering required to be stimulated by a
bounty; that too in Spain, where the amusements were, and still are, of
the most sanguinary character.

The scene for this second _auto da fé_ at Valladolid was the great
square in front of the church of St. Francis. At one end a platform was
raised, covered with rich carpeting, on which were ranged the seats of
the inquisitors, emblazoned with the arms of the Holy Office. Near to
this was the royal gallery, a private entrance to which secured the
inmates from molestation by the crowd. Opposite to this gallery a large
scaffold was erected, so as to be visible from all parts of the arena,
and was appropriated to the unhappy martyrs who were to suffer in the
_auto_.

At six in the morning all the bells in the capital began to toll, and a
solemn procession was seen to move from the dismal fortress of the
Inquisition. In the van marched a body of troops, to secure a free
passage for the procession. Then came the condemned, each attended by
two familiars of the Holy Office, and those who were to suffer at the
stake by two friars, in addition, exhorting the heretic to abjure his
errors. Those admitted to penitence wore a sable dress; while the
unfortunate martyr was enveloped in a loose sack of yellow cloth,--the
_san benito_,--with his head surmounted by a cap of pasteboard of a
conical form, which, together with the cloak, was embroidered with
figures of flames and of devils fanning and feeding them; all
emblematical of the destiny of the heretic's soul in the world to come,
as well as of his body in the present. Then came the magistrates of the
city, the judges of the courts, the ecclesiastical orders, and the
nobles of the land on horseback. These were followed by the members of
the dread tribunal, and the fiscal, bearing a standard of crimson
damask, on one side of which were displayed the arms of the Inquisition,
and on the other the insignia of its founders, Sixtus the Fifth and
Ferdinand the Catholic. Next came a numerous train of familiars, well
mounted, among whom were many gentry of the province, proud to act as
the body-guard of the Holy Office. The rear was brought up by an immense
concourse of the common people, stimulated on the present occasion, no
doubt, by the loyal desire to see their new sovereign, as well as by the
ambition to share in the triumphs of the _auto da fé_. The number thus
drawn together from the capital and the country, far exceeding what was
usual on such occasions, is estimated by one present at full two hundred
thousand.[441]

[Sidenote: AUTOS DA FE.]

As the multitude defiled into the square, the inquisitors took their
place on the seats prepared for their reception. The condemned were
conducted to the scaffold, and the royal station was occupied by Philip,
with the different members of his household. At his side sat his sister,
the late regent, his son, Don Carlos, his nephew, Alexander Farnese,
several foreign ambassadors, and the principal grandees and higher
ecclesiastics in attendance on the court. It was an august assembly of
the greatest and the proudest in the land. But the most indifferent
spectator, who had a spark of humanity in his bosom, might have turned
with feelings of admiration from this array of worldly power, to the
poor martyr, who, with no support but what he drew from within, was
prepared to defy this power, and to lay down his life in vindication of
the rights of conscience. Some there may have been, in that large
concourse, who shared in these sentiments. But their number was small
indeed in comparison with those who looked on the wretched victim as the
enemy of God, and his approaching sacrifice as the most glorious triumph
of the Cross.

The ceremonies began with a sermon, "the sermon of the faith," by the
bishop of Zamora. The subject of it may well be guessed, from the
occasion. It was no doubt plentifully larded with texts of Scripture,
and, unless the preacher departed from the fashion of the time, with
passages from the heathen writers, however much out of place they may
seem in an orthodox discourse.

When the bishop had concluded, the grand-inquisitor administered an oath
to the assembled multitude, who on their knees solemnly swore to defend
the Inquisition, to maintain the purity of the faith, and to inform
against any one who should swerve from it. As Philip repeated an oath of
similar import, he suited the action to the word, and, rising from his
seat, drew his sword from its scabbard, as if to announce himself the
determined champion of the Holy Office. In the earlier _autos_ of the
Moorish and Jewish infidels, so humiliating an oath had never been
exacted from the sovereign.

After this, the secretary of the tribunal read aloud an instrument
reciting the grounds for the conviction of the prisoners, and the
respective sentences pronounced against them. Those who were to be
admitted to penitence, each, as his sentence was proclaimed, knelt down,
and, with his hands on the missal, solemnly abjured his errors, and was
absolved by the grand-inquisitor. The absolution, however, was not so
entire as to relieve the offender from the penalty of his transgressions
in this world. Some were doomed to perpetual imprisonment in the cells
of the Inquisition, others to lighter penances. All were doomed to the
confiscation of their property,--a point of too great moment to the
welfare of the tribunal ever to be omitted. Besides this, in many cases
the offender, and, by a glaring perversion of justice, his immediate
descendants, were rendered for ever ineligible to public office of any
kind, and their names branded with perpetual infamy. Thus blighted in
fortune and in character, they were said, in the soft language of the
Inquisition, to be _reconciled_.

As these unfortunate persons were remanded, under a strong guard, to
their prisons, all eyes were turned on the little company of martyrs,
who, clothed in the ignominious garb of the _san benito_, stood waiting
the sentence of the judges,--with cords round their necks, and in their
hands a cross, or sometimes an inverted torch, typical of their own
speedy dissolution. The interest of the spectators was still further
excited, in the present instance, by the fact that several of these
victims were not only illustrious for their rank, but yet more so for
their talents and virtues. In their haggard looks, their emaciated
forms, and too often, alas! their distorted limbs, it was easy to read
the story of their sufferings in their long imprisonment, for some of
them had been confined in the dark cells of the Inquisition much more
than a year. Yet their countenances, though haggard, far from showing
any sign of weakness or fear, were lighted up with a glow of holy
enthusiasm, as of men prepared to seal their testimony with their blood.

When that part of the process showing the grounds of their conviction
had been read, the grand-inquisitor consigned them to the hands of the
corregidor of the city, beseeching him to deal with the prisoners _in
all kindness and mercy_;[442] a honeyed, but most hypocritical phrase,
since no choice was left to the civil magistrate, but to execute the
terrible sentence of the law against heretics, the preparations for
which had been made by him a week before.[443]

The whole number of convicts amounted to thirty, of whom sixteen were
_reconciled_, and the remainder _relaxed_ to the secular arm,--in other
words, turned over to the civil magistrate for execution. There were few
of those thus condemned who, when brought to the stake, did not so far
shrink from the dreadful doom that awaited them as to consent to
purchase a commutation of it by confession before they died; in which
case they were strangled by the _garrote_, before their bodies were
thrown into the flames.

Of the present number there were only two whose constancy triumphed to
the last over the dread of suffering, and who refused to purchase any
mitigation of it by a compromise with conscience. The names of these
martyrs should be engraven on the record of history.

One of them was Don Carlos de Seso, a noble Florentine, who had stood
high in the favor of Charles the Fifth. Being united with a lady of rank
in Castile, he removed to that country, and took up his residence in
Valladolid. He had become a convert to the Lutheran doctrines, which he
first communicated to his own family, and afterwards showed equal zeal
in propagating among the people of Valladolid and its neighborhood. In
short, there was no man to whose untiring and intrepid labors the cause
of the Reformed religion in Spain was more indebted. He was, of course,
a conspicuous mark for the Inquisition.

[Sidenote: AUTOS DA FE.]

During the fifteen months in which he lay in its gloomy cells, cut off
from human sympathy and support, his constancy remained unshaken. The
night preceding his execution, when his sentence had been announced to
him, De Seso called for writing materials. It was thought he designed to
propitiate his judges by a full confession of his errors. But the
confession he made was of another kind. He insisted on the errors of the
Romish Church, and avowed his unshaken trust in the great truths of the
Reformation. The document, covering two sheets of paper, is pronounced
by the secretary of the Inquisition to be a composition equally
remarkable for its energy and precision.[444] When led before the royal
gallery, on his way to the place of execution, De Seso pathetically
exclaimed to Philip, "Is it thus that you allow your innocent subjects
to be persecuted?" To which the king made the memorable reply, "If it
were my own son, I would fetch the wood to burn him, were he such a
wretch as thou art!" It was certainly a characteristic answer.[445]

At the stake De Seso showed the same unshaken constancy, bearing his
testimony to the truth of the great cause for which he gave up his life.
As the flames crept slowly around him, he called on the soldiers to heap
up the fagots, that his agonies might be sooner ended; and his
executioners, indignant at the obstinacy--the heroism--of the martyr,
were not slow in obeying his commands.[446]

The companion and fellow-sufferer of De Seso was Domingo de Roxas, son
of the marquis de Poza, an unhappy noble, who had seen five of his
family, including his eldest son, condemned to various humiliating
penances by the Inquisition for their heretical opinions. This one was
now to suffer death. De Roxas was a Dominican monk. It is singular that
this order, from which the ministers of the Holy Office were
particularly taken, furnished many proselytes to the Reformed religion.
De Roxas, as was the usage with ecclesiastics, was allowed to retain his
sacerdotal habit until his sentence had been read, when he was degraded
from his ecclesiastical rank, his vestments were stripped off one after
another, and the hideous dress of the _san benito_ thrown over him, amid
the shouts and derision of the populace. Thus apparelled, he made an
attempt to address the spectators around the scaffold; but no sooner did
he begin to raise his voice against the errors and cruelties of Rome,
than Philip indignantly commanded him to be gagged. The gag was a piece
of cleft wood, which, forcibly compressing the tongue, had the
additional advantage of causing great pain, while it silenced the
offender. Even when he was bound to the stake, the gag, though contrary
to custom, was suffered to remain in the mouth of De Roxas, as if his
enemies dreaded the effects of an eloquence that triumphed over the
anguish of death.[447]

The place of execution--the _quemadero_, the burning-place, as it was
called--was a spot selected for the purpose without the walls of the
city.[448] Those who attended an _auto da fé_ were not, therefore,
necessarily, as is commonly imagined, spectators of the tragic scene
that concluded it. The great body of the people, and many of higher
rank, no doubt, followed to the place of execution. On this occasion,
there is reason to think, from the language--somewhat equivocal, it is
true--of Philip's biographer, that the monarch chose to testify his
devotion to the Inquisition by witnessing in person the appalling close
of the drama; while his guards mingled with the menials of the Holy
Office, and heaped up the fagots round their victims.[449]

Such was the cruel exhibition which, under the garb of a religious
festival, was thought the most fitting ceremonial for welcoming the
Catholic monarch to his dominions! During the whole time of its duration
in the public square, from six in the morning till two in the afternoon,
no symptom of impatience was exhibited by the spectators, and, as may
well be believed, no sign of sympathy for the sufferers.[450] It would
be difficult to devise a better school for perverting the moral sense,
and deadening the sensibilities of a nation.[451]

[Sidenote: PROSECUTION OF CARRANZA.]

Under the royal sanction, the work of persecution now went forward more
briskly than ever.[452] No calling was too sacred, no rank too high, to
escape the shafts of the informer. In the course of a few years, no
less than nine bishops were compelled to do humiliating penance in some
form or other for heterodox opinions. But the most illustrious victim of
the Inquisition was Bartolomé Carranzo, archbishop of Toledo. The
primacy of Spain might be considered as the post of the highest
consideration in the Roman Catholic Church after the papacy.[453] The
proceedings against this prelate, on the whole, excited more interest
throughout Christendom than any other case that came before the tribunal
of the Inquisition.

Carranza, who was of an ancient Castilian family, had early entered a
Dominican convent in the suburbs of Guadalajara. His exemplary life, and
his great parts and learning, recommended him to the favor of Charles
the Fifth, who appointed him confessor to his son Philip. The emperor
also sent him to the Council of Trent, where he made a great impression
by his eloquence, as well as by a tract which he published against
plurality of benefices, which, however, excited no little disgust in
many of his order. On Philip's visit to England to marry Queen Mary,
Carranza accompanied his master, and while in that country he
distinguished himself by the zeal and ability with which he controverted
the doctrines of the Protestants. The alacrity, moreover, which he
manifested in the work of persecution made him generally odious under
the name of the "black friar,"--a name peculiarly appropriate, as it
applied not less to his swarthy complexion than to the garb of his
order. On Philip's return to Flanders, Carranza, who had twice refused a
mitre, was raised--not without strong disinclination on his own part--to
the archiepiscopal see of Toledo. The "_nolo episcopari_," in this
instance, seems to have been sincere. It would have been well for him if
it had been effectual. Carranza's elevation to the primacy was the
source of all his troubles.

The hatred of theologians has passed into a proverb; and there would
certainly seem to be no rancor surpassing that of a Spanish
ecclesiastic. Among the enemies raised by Carranza's success, the most
implacable was the grand-inquisitor, Valdés. The archbishop of Seville
could ill brook that a humble Dominican should be thus raised from the
cloister over the heads of the proud prelacy of Spain. With unwearied
pains, such as hate only could induce, he sought out whatever could make
against the orthodoxy of the new prelate, whether in his writings or his
conversation. Some plausible ground was afforded for this from the fact,
that, although Carranza, as his whole life had shown, was devoted to the
Roman Catholic Church, yet his long residence in Protestant countries,
and his familiarity with Protestant works, had given a coloring to his
language, if not to his opinions, which resembled that of the Reformers.
Indeed, Carranza seems to have been much of the same way of thinking
with Pole, Contarini, Morone, and other illustrious Romanists, whose
liberal natures and wide range of study, had led them to sanction more
than one of the Lutheran dogmas which were subsequently proscribed by
the Council of Trent. One charge strongly urged against the primate was
his assent to the heretical doctrine of justification by faith. In
support of this, Father Regla, the confessor, as the reader may
remember, of Charles the Fifth, and a worthy coadjutor of Valdés,
quoted words of consolation employed by Carranza, in his presence, at
the death-bed of the emperor.[454]

The exalted rank of the accused made it necessary for his enemies to
proceed with the greatest caution. Never had the bloodhounds of the
Inquisition been set on so noble a quarry. Confident in his own
authority, the prelate had little reason for distrust. He could not ward
off the blow, for it was an invisible arm stronger than his own that was
raised to smite him. On the twenty-second of August, 1559, the
emissaries of the Holy Office entered the primate's town of Torrelaguna.
The doors of the episcopal palace were thrown open to the ministers of
the terrible tribunal. The prelate was dragged from his bed at midnight,
was hurried into a coach, and while the inhabitants were ordered not so
much as to present themselves at the windows, he was conducted, under a
strong guard, to the prisons of the Inquisition at Valladolid. The
arrest of such a person caused a great sensation throughout the country,
but no attempt was made at a rescue.

The primate would have appealed from the Holy Office to the pope, as the
only power competent to judge him. But he was unwilling to give umbrage
to Philip, who had told him in any extremity to rely on him. The king,
however, was still in the Netherlands, where his mind had been
preoccupied, through the archbishop's enemies, with rumors of his
defection. And the mere imputation of heresy, in this dangerous crisis,
and especially in one whom he had so recently raised to the highest post
in the Spanish church, was enough, not only to efface the recollection
of past services from the mind of Philip, but to turn his favor into
aversion. For two years Carranza was suffered to languish in
confinement, exposed to all the annoyances which the malice of his
enemies could devise. So completely was he dead to the world, that he
knew nothing of a conflagration which consumed more than four hundred of
the principal houses in Valladolid, till some years after the
occurrence.[455]

At length the Council of Trent, sharing the indignation of the rest of
Christendom at the archbishop's protracted imprisonment, called on
Philip to interpose in his behalf, and to remove the cause to another
tribunal. But the king gave little heed to the remonstrance, which the
inquisitors treated as a presumptuous interference with their authority.

In 1566, Pius the Fifth ascended the pontifical throne. He was a man of
austere morals and a most inflexible will. A Dominican, like Carranza,
he was greatly scandalized by the treatment which the primate had
received, and by the shameful length to which his process had been
protracted. He at once sent his orders to Spain for the removal of the
grand-inquisitor, Valdés, from office, summoning, at the same time, the
cause and the prisoner before his own tribunal. The bold inquisitor,
loth to lose his prey, would have defied the power of Rome, as he had
done that of the Council of Trent. Philip remonstrated; but Pius was
firm, and menaced both king and inquisitor with excommunication. Philip
had no mind for a second collision with the papal court. In imagination
he already heard the thunders of the Vatican rolling in the distance,
and threatening soon to break upon his head. After a confinement of now
more than seven years' duration, the archbishop was sent under a guard
to Rome. He was kindly received by the pontiff, and honorably lodged in
the castle of St. Angelo, in apartments formerly occupied by the popes
themselves. But he was still a prisoner.

[Sidenote: PROSECUTION OF CARRANZA.]

Pius now set seriously about the examination of Carranza's process. It
was a tedious business, requiring his holiness to wade through an ocean
of papers, while the progress of the suit was perpetually impeded by
embarrassments thrown in his way by the industrious malice of the
inquisitors. At the end of six years more, Pius was preparing to give
his judgment, which it was understood would be favorable to Carranza,
when, unhappily for the primate, the pontiff died.

The Holy Office, stung by the prospect of its failure, now strained
every nerve to influence the mind of the new pope, Gregory the
Thirteenth, to a contrary decision. New testimony was collected, new
glosses were put on the primate's text, and the sanction of the most
learned Spanish theologians was brought in support of them. At length,
at the end of three years further, the holy father announced his purpose
of giving his final decision. It was done with great circumstance. The
pope was seated on his pontifical throne, surrounded by all his
cardinals, prelates, and functionaries of the apostolic chamber. Before
this august assembly, the archbishop presented himself unsupported and
alone, while no one ventured to salute him. His head was bare. His once
robust form was bent by infirmity more than by years; and his care-worn
features told of that sickness which arises from hope deferred. He knelt
down at some distance from the pope, and in this humble attitude
received his sentence.

He was declared to have imbibed the pernicious doctrines of Luther. The
decree of the Inquisition prohibiting the use of his catechism was
confirmed. He was to abjure sixteen propositions found in his writings;
was suspended from the exercise of his episcopal functions for five
years, during which time he was to be confined in a convent of his order
at Orvieto; and, finally, he was required to visit seven of the
principal churches in Rome, and perform mass there by way of penance.

This was the end of eighteen years of doubt, anxiety, and imprisonment.
The tears streamed down the face of the unhappy man, as he listened to
the sentence; but he bowed in silent submission to the will of his
superior. The very next day he began his work of penance. But nature
could go no further; and on the second of May, only sixteen days after
his sentence had been pronounced, Carranza died of a broken heart. The
triumph of the Inquisition was complete.

The pope raised a monument to the memory of the primate, with a pompous
inscription, paying a just tribute to his talents and his scholarship,
endowing him with a full measure of Christian worth, and particularly
commending the exemplary manner in which he had discharged the high
trusts reposed in him by his sovereign.[456]

Such is the story of Carranza's persecution,--considering the rank of
the party, the unprecedented length of the process, and the sensation it
excited throughout Europe, altogether the most remarkable on the records
of the Inquisition.[457] Our sympathy for the archbishop's sufferings
may be reasonably mitigated by the reflection, that he did but receive
the measure which he had meted out to others.

While the persecution of Carranza was going on, the fires lighted for
the Protestants continued to burn with fury in all parts of the country,
until at length they gradually slackened and died away, from mere want
of fuel to feed them. The year 1570 may be regarded as the period of the
last _auto da fé_ in which the Lutherans played a conspicuous part. The
subsequent celebrations were devoted chiefly to relapsed Jews and
Mahometans; and if a Protestant heretic was sometimes added to this
list, it was "but as the gleaning of grapes after the vintage is
done."[458]

Never was there a persecution which did its work more thoroughly. The
blood of the martyr is commonly said to be the seed of the church. But
the storm of persecution fell as heavily on the Spanish Protestants as
it did on the Albigenses in the thirteenth century; blighting every
living thing, so that no germ remained for future harvests. Spain might
now boast that the stain of heresy no longer defiled the hem of her
garment. But at what a price was this purchased! Not merely by the
sacrifice of the lives and fortunes of a few thousands of the existing
generation but by the disastrous consequences entailed for ever on the
country. Folded under the dark wing of the Inquisition, Spain was shut
out from the light which in the sixteenth century broke over the rest of
Europe, stimulating the nations to greater enterprise in every
department of knowledge. The genius of the people was rebuked, and their
spirit quenched, under the malignant influence of an eye that never
slumbered, of an unseen arm ever raised to strike. How could there be
freedom of thought, where there was no freedom of utterance? Or freedom
of utterance, where it was as dangerous to say too little as too much?
Freedom cannot go along with fear. Every way the mind of the Spaniard
was in fetters.

His moral sense was miserably perverted. Men were judged, not by their
practice, but by their professions. Creed became a substitute for
conduct. Difference of faith made a wider gulf of separation than
difference of race, language, or even interest. Spain no longer formed
one of the great brotherhood of Christian nations. An immeasurable
barrier was raised between that kingdom and the Protestants of Europe.
The early condition of perpetual warfare with the Arabs who overran the
country had led the Spaniards to mingle religion strangely with their
politics. The effect continued when the cause had ceased. Their wars
with the European nations became religious wars. In fighting England or
the Netherlands, they were fighting the enemies of God. It was the same
everywhere. In their contest with the unoffending natives of the New
World, they were still battling with the enemies of God. Their wars
took the character of a perpetual crusade, and were conducted with all
the ferocity which fanaticism could inspire.

[Sidenote: RECEPTION OF ISABELLA.]

The same dark spirit of fanaticism seems to brood over the national
literature; even that lighter literature which in other nations is made
up of the festive sallies of wit, or the tender expression of sentiment.
The greatest geniuses of the nation, the masters of the drama and of the
ode, while they astonish us by their miracles of invention, show that
they have too often kindled their inspiration at the altars of the
Inquisition.

Debarred as he was from freedom of speculation, the domain of science
was closed against the Spaniard. Science looks to perpetual change. It
turns to the past to gather warning, as well as instruction, for the
future. Its province is to remove old abuses, to explode old errors, to
unfold new truths. Its condition, in short, is that of progress. But in
Spain, everything not only looked to the past, but rested on the past.
Old abuses gathered respect from their antiquity. Reform was innovation,
and innovation was a crime. Far from progress, all was stationary. The
hand of the Inquisition drew the line which said, "No further!" This was
the limit of human intelligence in Spain.

The effect was visible in every department of science,--not in the
speculative alone, but in the physical and the practical; in the
declamatory rant of its theology and ethics, in the childish and
chimerical schemes of its political economists. In every walk were to be
seen the symptoms of premature decrepitude, as the nation clung to the
antiquated systems which the march of civilization in other countries
had long since effaced. Hence those frantic experiments, so often
repeated, in the financial administration of the kingdom, which made
Spain the byword of the nations, and which ended in the ruin of trade,
the prostration of credit, and finally the bankruptcy of the state.--But
we willingly turn from this sad picture of the destinies of the country
to a more cheerful scene in the history of Philip.




CHAPTER IV.

PHILIP'S THIRD MARRIAGE.

Reception of Isabella.--Marriage Festivities.--The Queen's Mode of
Life.--The Court removed to Madrid.

1560.


So soon as Philip should be settled in Spain, it had been arranged that
his young bride, Elizabeth of France, should cross the Pyrenees. Early
in January, 1560, Elizabeth,--or Isabella, to use the corresponding name
by which she was known to the Spaniards,--under the protection of the
Cardinal de Bourbon and some of the French nobility, reached the borders
of Navarre, where she was met by the duke of Infantado, who was to take
charge of the princess, and escort her to Castile.

Iñigo Lopez de Mendoza, fourth duke of Infantado, was the head of the
most illustrious house in Castile. He was at this time near seventy
years of age, having passed most of his life in attendance at court,
where he had always occupied the position suited to his high birth and
his extensive property, which, as his title intimated, lay chiefly in
the north. He was a fine specimen of the old Castilian hidalgo, and
displayed a magnificence in his way of living that became his station.
He was well educated, for the time; and his fondness for books did not
prevent his excelling in all knightly exercises. He was said to have the
best library and the best stud of any gentleman in Castile.[459]

He appeared on this occasion in great state, accompanied by his
household and his kinsmen, the heads of the noblest families in Spain.
The duke was attended by some fifty pages, who, in their rich dresses of
satin and brocade, displayed the gay colors of the house of Mendoza. The
nobles in his train, all suitably mounted, were followed by twenty-five
hundred gentlemen, well equipped, like themselves. So lavish were the
Castilians of that day in the caparisons of their horses, that some of
these are estimated, without taking into account the jewels with which
they were garnished, to have cost no less than two thousand ducats![460]
The same taste is visible at this day in their descendants, especially
in South America and Mexico, where the love of barbaric ornament in the
housings and caparisons of their steeds is conspicuous among all classes
of the people.

Several days were spent in settling the etiquette to be observed before
the presentation of the duke and his followers to the princess,--a
perilous matter with the Spanish hidalgo. When at length the interview
took place, the cardinal of Burgos, the duke's brother, opened it by a
formal and rather long address to Isabella, who replied in a tone of
easy gaiety, which, though not undignified, savored much more of the
manners of her own country than those of Spain.[461] The place of
meeting was at Roncesvalles,--a name which to the reader of romance may
call up scenes very different from those presented by the two nations
now met together in kindly courtesy.[462]

From Roncesvalles the princess proceeded, under the strong escort of the
duke, to his town of Guadalajara in New Castile, where her marriage with
King Philip was to be solemnized. Great preparations were made by the
loyal citizens for celebrating the event in a manner honorable to their
own master and their future queen. A huge mound, or what might be called
a hill, was raised at the entrance of the town, where a grove of natural
oaks had been transplanted, amongst which was to be seen abundance of
game. Isabella was received by the magistrates of the place, and
escorted through the principal streets by a brilliant cavalcade,
composed of the great nobility of the court. She was dressed in ermine,
and rode a milk-white palfrey, which she managed with an easy grace that
delighted the multitude. On one side of her rode the duke of Infantado,
and on the other the cardinal of Burgos. After performing her devotions
at the church, where _Te Deum_ was chanted, she proceeded to the ducal
palace, in which the marriage ceremony was to be performed. On her
entering the court, the princess Joanna came down to receive her
sister-in-law, and, after an affectionate salutation, conducted her to
the saloon, where Philip, attended by his son, was awaiting his
bride.[463]

[Sidenote: RECEPTION OF ISABELLA.]

It was the first time that Isabella had seen her destined lord. She now
gazed on him so intently, that he good-humoredly asked her "if she were
looking to see if he had any gray hairs in his head?" The bluntness of
the question somewhat disconcerted her.[464] Philip's age was not much
less than that at which the first gray hairs made their appearance on
his father's temples. Yet the discrepancy between the ages of the
parties in the present instance was not greater than often happens in a
royal union. Isabella was in her fifteenth year,[465] and Philip in his
thirty-fourth.

From all accounts, the lady's youth was her least recommendation.
"Elizabeth de Valois," says Brantôme, who know her well, "was a true
daughter of France,--discreet, witty, beautiful, and good, if ever woman
was so."[466] She was well made, and tall of stature, and on this
account the more admired in Spain, where the women are rarely above the
middle height. Her eyes were dark, and her luxuriant tresses, of the
same dark color, shaded features that were delicately fair.[467] There
was sweetness mingled with dignity in her deportment, in which Castilian
stateliness seemed to be happily tempered by the vivacity of her own
nation. "So attractive was she," continues the gallant old courtier,
"that no cavalier durst look on her long, for fear of losing his heart,
which in that jealous court might have proved the loss of his
life."[468]

Some of the chroniclers notice a shade of melancholy as visible on
Isabella's features, which they refer to the comparison the young bride
was naturally led to make between her own lord and his son, the prince
of Asturias, for whom her hand had been originally intended.[469] But
the daughter of Catherine de Medicis, they are careful to add, had been
too well trained, from her cradle, not to know how to disguise her
feelings. Don Carlos had one advantage over his father, in his youth;
though, in this respect, since he was but a boy of fourteen, he might be
thought to fall as much too short of the suitable age as the king
exceeded it. It is also intimated by the same gossiping writers, that
from this hour of their meeting, touched by the charms of his
step-mother, the prince nourished a secret feeling of resentment against
his father, who had thus come between him and his beautiful
betrothed.[470] It is this light gossip of the chroniclers that has
furnished the romancers of later ages with the flimsy materials for that
web of fiction, which displays in such glowing colors the loves of
Carlos and Isabella. I shall have occasion to return to this subject
when treating of the fate of this unhappy prince.

When the nuptials were concluded, the good people of Guadalajara
testified their loyalty by all kinds of festivities in honor of the
event,--by fireworks, music, and dancing. The fountains flowed with
generous liquor. Tables were spread in the public squares, laden with
good cheer, and freely open to all. In the evening, the _regidores_ of
the town, to the number of fifty or more, presented themselves before
the king and queen. They were dressed in their gaudy liveries of crimson
and yellow velvet, and each one of these functionaries bore a napkin on
his arm, while he carried a plate of sweetmeats, which he presented to
the royal pair and the ladies of the court. The following morning Philip
and his consort left the hospitable walls of Guadalajara, and set out
with their whole suite for Toledo. At parting, the duke of Infantado
made the queen and her ladies presents of jewels, lace, and other rich
articles of dress; and the sovereigns took leave of their noble host,
well pleased with the princely entertainment he had given them.[471]

At Toledo preparations were made for the reception of Philip and
Isabella in a style worthy of the renown of that ancient capital of the
Visigoths. In the broad _vega_ before the city, three thousand of the
old Spanish infantry engaged in a mock encounter with a body of Moorish
cavalry, having their uniforms and caparisons fancifully trimmed and
ornamented in the Arabesque fashion. Then followed various national
dances by beautiful maidens of Toledo, dances of the Gypsies, and the
old Spanish "war-dance of the swords."[472]

[Sidenote: MARRIAGE FESTIVITIES.]

On entering the gates, the royal pair were welcomed by the municipality
of the city, who supported a canopy of cloth of gold over the heads of
the king and queen, emblazoned with their ciphers. A procession was
formed, consisting of the principal magistrates, the members of the
military orders, the officers of the Inquisition,--for Toledo was one of
the principal stations of the secret tribunal,--and, lastly, the chief
nobles of the court. In the cavalcade might be discerned the iron form
of the duke of Alva, and his more courtly rival, Ruy Gomez de Silva,
count of Melito,--the two nobles highest in the royal confidence.
Triumphal arches, ornamented with quaint devices and emblematical
figures from ancient mythology, were thrown across the streets, which
were filled with shouting multitudes. Gay wreaths of flowers and
flaunting streamers adorned the verandas and balconies, which were
crowded with spectators of both sexes in their holiday attire, making a
display of gaudy colors that reminds an old chronicler of the richly
tinted tapestries and carpetings of Flanders.[473] In this royal state,
the new-married pair moved along the streets towards the great
cathedral; and after paying their devotions at its venerable shrine,
they repaired to the _alcazar_,--the palace-fortress of Toledo.

For some weeks, during which the sovereigns remained in the capital,
there was a general jubilee.[474] All the national games of Spain were
exhibited to the young queen; the bull-fight, the Moorish sport of the
_cañas_, or tilt of reeds, and tournaments on horseback and on foot, in
both of which Philip often showed himself armed _cap-à-pie_ in the
lists, and did his _devoir_ in the presence of his fair bride, as became
a loyal knight. Another show, which might have been better reserved for
a less joyous occasion, was exhibited to Isabella. As the court and the
cortes were drawn together in Toledo, the Holy Office took the occasion
to celebrate an _auto da fé_, which, from the number of the victims and
quality of the spectators, was the most imposing spectacle of the kind
ever witnessed in that capital.

No country in Europe has so distinct an individuality as Spain; shown
not merely in the character of the inhabitants, but in the smallest
details of life,--in their national games, their dress, their social
usages. The tenacity with which the people have clung to these amidst
all the changes of dynasties and laws is truly admirable. Separated by
their mountain barrier from the central and eastern parts of Europe, and
during the greater part of their existence brought into contact with
Oriental forms of civilization, the Spaniards have been but little
exposed to those influences which have given a homogeneous complexion to
the other nations of Christendom. The system under which they have been
trained is too peculiar to be much affected by these influences, and the
ideas transmitted from their ancestors are too deeply settled in their
minds to be easily disturbed. The present in Spain is but the mirror of
the past, in other countries fashions become antiquated, old errors
exploded, early tastes reformed. Not so in the Peninsula. The traveller
has only to cross the Pyrenees to find himself a contemporary of the
sixteenth century.

The festivities of the court were suddenly terminated by the illness of
Isabella, who was attacked by the small-pox. Her life was in no danger;
but great fears were entertained lest the envious disease should prove
fatal to her beauty. Her mother, Catherine de Medicis, had great
apprehensions on this point; and couriers crossed the Pyrenees
frequently, during the queen's illness, bringing prescriptions--some of
them rather extraordinary--from the French doctors for preventing the
ravages of the disorder.[475] Whether it was by reason of these
nostrums, or her own excellent constitution, the queen was fortunate
enough to escape from the sick-room without a scar.

Philip seems to have had much reason to be contented not only with the
person, but the disposition, of his wife. As her marriage had formed one
of the articles in the treaty with France, she was called by the
Spaniards _Isabel de la Paz_,--"Isabella of the Peace." Her own
countrymen no less fondly styled her "the Olive-Branch of
Peace,"--intimating the sweetness of her disposition.[476] In this
respect she may be thought to have formed a contrast to Philip's former
wife, Mary of England; at least after sickness and misfortune had done
their work upon that queen's temper, in the latter part of her life.

If Isabella was not a scholar, like Mary, she at least was well
instructed for the time, and was fond of reading, especially poetry. She
had a ready apprehension, and learned in a short time to speak the
Castilian with tolerable fluency, while there was something pleasing in
her foreign accent, that made her pronunciation the more interesting.
She accommodated herself so well to the usages of her adopted nation,
that she soon won the hearts of the Spaniards. "No queen of Castile,"
says the loyal Brantôme, "with due deference to Isabella the Catholic,
was ever so popular in the country." When she went abroad, it was
usually with her face uncovered, after the manner of her countrywomen.
The press was always great around her whenever she appeared in public,
and happy was the man who could approach so near as to get a glimpse of
her beautiful countenance.[477]

Yet Isabella never forgot the land of her birth; and such of her
countrymen as visited the Castilian court were received by her with
distinguished courtesy. She brought along with her in her train to
Castile several French ladies of rank, as her maids of honor. But a
rivalry soon grew up between them and the Spanish ladies in the palace,
which compelled the queen, after she had in vain attempted to reconcile
the parties, to send back most of her own countrywomen. In doing so, she
was careful to provide them with generous marriage portions.[478]

[Sidenote: THE QUEEN'S MODE OF LIFE.]

The queen maintained great state in her household, as was Philip's wish,
who seems to have lavished on his lovely consort those attentions for
which the unfortunate Mary Tudor had pined in vain. Besides a rare
display of jewels, Isabella's wardrobe was exceedingly rich. Few of her
robes cost less than three or four hundred crowns each,--a great sum for
the time. Like her namesake and contemporary, Elizabeth of England, she
rarely wore the same dress twice. But she gave away the discarded suit
to her attendants,[479] unlike in this to the English queen, who hoarded
up her wardrobe so carefully, that at her death it must have displayed
every fashion of her reign. Brantôme, who, both as a Frenchman and as
one who had seen the queen often in the court of Castile, may be
considered a judge in the matter, dwells with rapture on the elegance of
her costume, the matchless taste in its arrangement, and the perfection
of her _coiffure_.

A manuscript of the time, by an eye-witness, gives a few particulars
respecting her manner of living, in which some readers may take an
interest. Among the persons connected with the queen's establishment,
the writer mentions her confessor, her almoner, and four physicians. The
medical art seems to have been always held in high repute in Spain,
though in no country, considering the empirical character of its
professors, with so little reason. At dinner the queen was usually
attended by some thirty of her ladies. Two of them, singularly enough as
it may seem to us, performed the office of carvers. Another served as
cupbearer, and stood by her majesty's chair. The rest of her attendants
stood round the apartment, conversing with their gallants, who, in a
style to which she had not been used in the French courts, kept their
heads covered during the repast. "They were there," they said, "not to
wait on the queen, but her ladies." After her solitary meal was over,
Isabella retired with her attendants to her chamber, where, with the aid
of music, and such mirth as the buffoons and jesters of the palace could
afford, she made shift to pass the evening.[480]

Such is the portrait which her contemporaries have left us of Elizabeth
of France; and such the accounts of her popularity with the nation, and
the state maintained in her establishment. Well might Brantôme sadly
exclaim, "Alas! what did it all avail?" A few brief years only were to
pass away before this spoiled child of fortune, the delight of the
monarch, the ornament and pride of the court, was to exchange the pomps
and glories of her royal state for the dark chambers of the Escorial.

From Toledo the court proceeded to Valladolid, long the favourite
residence of the Castilian princes, though not the acknowledged capital
of the country. Indeed there was no city, since the time of the
Visigoths, that could positively claim that preëminence. This honor was
reserved for Madrid, which became the established residence of the court
under Philip, who in this but carried out the ideas of his father,
Charles the Fifth.

The emperor had passed much time in this place, where, strange to say,
the chief recommendation to him seems to have been the climate. Situated
on a broad expanse of table-land, at an elevation of twenty-four hundred
feet above the level of the sea, the brisk and rarefied atmosphere of
Madrid proved favorable to Charles's health. It preserved him, in
particular, from attacks of the fever and ague, which racked his
constitution almost as much as the gout. In the ancient _alcazar_ of the
Moors he found a stately residence, which he made commodious by various
alterations. Philip extended these improvements. He added new
apartments, and spent much money in enlarging and embellishing the old
ones. The ceilings were gilded and richly carved. The walls were hung
with tapestries, and the saloons and galleries decorated with sculpture
and with paintings,--many of them the productions of native artists, the
first disciples of a school which was one day to rival the great masters
of Italy. Extensive grounds were also laid out around the palace, and a
park was formed, which in time came to be covered with a growth of noble
trees, and well stocked with game. The _alcazar_, thus improved, became
a fitting residence for the sovereign of Spain. Indeed, if we may trust
the magnificent vaunt of a contemporary, it was "allowed by foreigners
to be the rarest thing of the kind possessed by any monarch in
Christendom."[481] It continued to be the abode of the Spanish princes
until, in 1734, in the reign of Philip the Fifth, the building was
destroyed by a fire, which lasted nearly a week. But it rose like a
phoenix from its ashes; and a new palace was raised on the site of the
old one, of still larger dimensions, presenting in the beauty of its
materials as well as of its execution one of the noblest monuments of
the architecture of the eighteenth century.[482]

Having completed his arrangements, Philip established his residence at
Madrid in 1563. The town then contained about twelve thousand
inhabitants. Under the forcing atmosphere of a court, the population
rose by the end of his long reign to three hundred thousand,[483]--a
number which it has probably not since exceeded. The accommodations in
the capital kept pace with the increase of population. Everything was
built for duration. Instead of flimsy houses that might serve for a
temporary residence, the streets were lined with strong and substantial
edifices. Under the royal patronage public works on a liberal scale were
executed. Madrid was ornamented with bridges, aqueducts, hospitals, the
Museum, the Armory,--stately structures which even now challenge our
admiration, not less by the excellence of their designs than by the
richness of their collections and the enlightened taste which they infer
at this early period.

[Sidenote: THE COURT REMOVED TO MADRID.]

In the opinion of its inhabitants, indeed we may say of the nation,
Madrid surpassed, not only every other city in the country, but in
Christendom. "There is but one Madrid," says the Spanish proverb.[484]
"When Madrid is the theme, the world listens in silence!"[485] In a
similar key, the old Castilian writers celebrate the glories of their
capital,--the nursery of wit, genius, and gallantry,--and expatiate on
the temperature of a climate propitious alike to the beauty of the women
and the bravery of the men.[486]

Yet, with all this lofty panegyric, the foreigner is apt to see things
through a very different medium from that through which they are seen by
the patriotic eye of the native. The traveller to Madrid finds little to
praise in a situation where the keen winds from the mountains come laden
with disease, and where the subtle atmosphere, to use one of the
national proverbs, that can hardly put out a candle, will extinguish the
life of a man;[487] where the capital, insulated in the midst of a
dreary expanse of desert, seems to be cut off from sympathy, if not from
intercourse, with the provinces;[488] and where, instead of a great
river that might open to it a commerce with distant quarters of the
globe, it is washed only by a stream,--"the far-famed Manzanares,"--the
bed of which in summer is a barren watercourse. The traveller may well
doubt whether the fanciful advantage, so much vaunted, of being the
centre of Spain, is sufficient to compensate the manifold evils of such
a position, and even whether those are far from truth who find in this
position one of the many causes of the decline of the national
prosperity.[489]

A full experience of the inconveniences of the site of the capital led
Charles the Third to contemplate its removal to Seville. But it was too
late. Madrid had been too long, in the Castilian boast, "the only court
in the world,"[490]--the focus to which converged talent, fashion, and
wealth from all quarters of the country. Too many patriotic associations
had gathered round it to warrant its desertion; and, in spite of its
local disadvantages, the capital planted by Philip the Second continued
to remain, as it will probably ever remain, the capital of the Spanish
monarchy.




CHAPTER V.

DISCONTENT IN THE NETHERLANDS.

The Reformation.--Its Progress in the Netherlands.--General
Discontent.--William of Orange.


The middle of the sixteenth century presented one of those crises which
have occurred at long intervals in the history of Europe, when the
course of events has had a permanent influence on the destiny of
nations. Scarcely forty years had elapsed since Luther had thrown down
the gauntlet to the Vatican, by publicly burning the papal bull at
Wittenberg. Since that time, his doctrines had been received in Denmark
and Sweden. In England, after a state of vacillation for three reigns,
Protestantism, in the peculiar form which it still wears, was become the
established religion of the state. The fiery cross had gone round over
the hills and valleys of Scotland, and thousands and tens of thousands
had gathered to hear the word of life from the lips of Knox. The
doctrines of Luther were spread over the northern parts of Germany, and
freedom of worship was finally guarantied there, by the treaty of
Passau. The Low Countries were the "debatable land," on which the
various sects of Reformers, the Lutheran, the Calvinist, the English
Protestant, contended for mastery with the established church. Calvinism
was embraced by some of the cantons of Switzerland, and at Geneva its
great apostle had fixed his head-quarters. His doctrines were widely
circulated through France, till the divided nation was preparing to
plunge into that worst of all wars, in which the hand of brother is
raised against brother. The cry of reform had even passed the Alps, and
was heard under the walls of the Vatican. It had crossed the Pyrenees.
The king of Navarre declared himself a Protestant; and the spirit of the
Reformation had secretly insinuated itself into Spain, and taken hold,
as we have seen, of the middle and southern provinces of the kingdom.

A contemporary of the period, who reflected on the onward march of the
new religion over every obstacle in its path, who had seen it gather
under its banners states and nations once the most loyal and potent
vassals of Rome, would have had little reason to doubt that, before the
end of the century, the Reform would have extended its sway over the
whole of Christendom. Fortunately for Catholicism, the most powerful
empire in Europe was in the hands of a prince who was devoted with his
whole soul to the interests of the Church. Philip the Second understood
the importance of his position. His whole life proves that he felt it to
be his especial mission to employ his great resources to restore the
tottering fortunes of Catholicism, and stay the progress of the torrent
which was sweeping away every landmark of the primitive faith.

We have seen the manner in which he crushed the efforts of the
Protestants in Spain. This was the first severe blow struck at the
Reformation. Its consequences cannot well be exaggerated; not the
immediate results, which would have been little without the subsequent
reforms and increased activity of the Church of Rome itself. But the
moral influence of such a blow, when the minds of men had been depressed
by a long series of reverses, is not to be estimated. In view of this,
one of the most eminent Roman Catholic writers does not hesitate to
remark, that "the power and abilities of Philip the Second afforded a
counterpoise to the Protestant cause, which prevented it from making
itself master of Europe."[491] The blow was struck; and from this
period little beyond its present conquests was to be gained for the
cause of the Reformation.

[Sidenote: REFORMATION IN THE NETHERLANDS.]

It was not to be expected that Philip, after having exterminated heresy
in one part of his dominions, should tolerate its existence in any
other, least of all, in a country so important as the Netherlands. Yet a
little reflection might have satisfied him that the same system of
measures could hardly be applied with a prospect of success to two
countries so differently situated as Spain and the Netherlands. The
Romish faith may be said to have entered into the being of the Spaniard.
It was not merely cherished as a form of religion, but as a principle of
honor. It was part of the national history. For eight centuries the
Spaniard had been fighting at home the battles of the Church. Nearly
every inch of soil in his own country was won by arms from the infidel.
His wars, as I have more than once had occasion to remark, were all wars
of religion. He carried the same spirit across the waters. There he was
still fighting the infidel. His life was one long crusade. How could
this champion of the Church desert her in her utmost need?

With this predisposition, it was easy for Philip to enforce obedience in
a people naturally the most loyal to their princes, to whom, moreover,
since the fatal war of the _Comunidades_, they had been accustomed to
pay an almost Oriental submission. Intrenched behind the wall of the
Pyrenees, Spain, we must bear in mind, felt little of the great shock
which was convulsing France and the other states of Europe; and with the
aid of so formidable an engine as the Inquisition, it was easy to
exterminate, before they could take root, such seeds of heresy as had
been borne by the storm across the mountains.

The Netherlands, on the other hand, lay like a valley among the hills,
which drinks in all the waters of the surrounding country. They were a
common reservoir for the various opinions which agitated the nations on
their borders. On the south were the Lutherans of Germany. The French
Huguenots pressed them on the west; and by the ocean they held
communication with England and the nations of the Baltic. The soldier
quartered on their territory, the seaman who visited their shores, the
trader who trafficked in their towns, brought with them different forms
of the new religion. Books from France and from Germany circulated
widely among a people, nearly all of whom, as we have seen, were able to
read.

The new doctrines were discussed by men accustomed to think and act for
themselves. Freedom of speculation on religious topics soon extended to
political. It was the natural tendency of reform. The same spirit of
free inquiry which attacked the foundations of unity of faith, stood
ready next to assail those of unity of government; and men began boldly
to criticize the rights of kings and the duties of subjects.

The spirit of independence was fostered by the institutions of the
country. The provinces of the Netherlands, if not republican in form,
were filled with the spirit of republics. In many of their features they
call to mind the free states of Italy in the Middle Ages. Under the
petty princes who ruled over them in early days, they had obtained
charters, as we have seen, which secured a certain degree of
constitutional freedom. The province of Brabant, above all, gloried in
its "_Joyeuse Entrée_," which guarantied privileges and immunities of a
more liberal character than those possessed by the other states of the
Netherlands. When the provinces passed at length under the sceptre of a
single sovereign, he lived at a distance, and the government was
committed to a viceroy. Since their connection with Spain, the
administration had been for the most part in the hands of a woman; and
the delegated authority of a woman pressed but lightly on the
independent temper of the Flemings.

Yet Charles the Fifth, as we have seen, partial as he was to his
countrymen in the Netherlands, could ill brook their audacious spirit,
and made vigorous efforts to repress it. But his zeal for the spiritual
welfare of his people never led him to overlook their material
interests. He had no design by his punishments to cripple their
strength, much less to urge them to extremity. When the regent, Mary of
Hungary, his sister, warned him that his laws bore too heavily on the
people to be endured, he was careful to mitigate their severity. His
edicts in the name of religion were, indeed, written in blood. But the
frequency of their repetition shows, as already remarked, the imperfect
manner in which they were executed. This was still further proved by the
prosperous condition of the people, the flourishing aspect of the
various branches of industry, and the great enterprises to facilitate
commercial intercourse and foster the activity of the country. At the
close of Charles's reign, or rather at the commencement of his
successor's, in 1560, was completed the grand canal extending from
Antwerp to Brussels, the construction of which had consumed thirty
years, and one million eight hundred thousand florins.[492] Such a work,
at such a period,--the fruit, not of royal patronage, but of the public
spirit of the citizens,--is evidence both of large resources and of
wisdom in the direction of them. In this state of things, it is not
surprising that the Flemings, feeling their own strength, should have
assumed a free and independent tone little grateful to the ear of a
sovereign. So far had this spirit of liberty or licence, as it was
termed, increased, in the latter part of the emperor's reign, that the
Regent Mary, when her brother abdicated, chose also to resign,
declaring, in a letter to him, that "she would not continue to live
with, much less to reign over, a people whose manners had undergone such
a change,--in whom respect for God and man seemed no longer to
exist."[493]

A philosopher who should have contemplated at that day the condition of
the country, and the civilization at which it had arrived, might feel
satisfied that a system of toleration in religious matters would be the
one best suited to the genius of the people and the character of their
institutions. But Philip was no philosopher; and toleration was a virtue
not understood, at that time, by Calvinist any more than by Catholic.
The question, therefore, is not whether the end he proposed was the best
one;--on this, few at the present day will differ;--but whether Philip
took the best means for effecting that end. This is the point of view
from which his conduct in the Netherlands should be criticized.

Here, in the outset, he seems to have fallen into a capital error, by
committing so large a share in the government to the hands of a
foreigner,--Granvelle. The country was filled with nobles, some of them
men of the highest birth, whose ancestors were associated with the most
stirring national recollections, and who were endeared, moreover, to
their countrymen by their own services. To several of these Philip
himself was under no slight obligations for the aid they had afforded
him in the late war,--on the fields of Gravelines and St. Quentin, and
in the negotiation of the treaty which closed his hostilities with
France. It was hardly to be expected that these proud nobles, conscious
of their superior claims, and accustomed to so much authority and
deference in their own land, would tamely submit to the control of a
stranger, a man of obscure family, like his father indebted for his
elevation to the royal favor.

[Sidenote: DISCONTENT IN THE NETHERLANDS.]

Besides these great lords, there was a numerous aristocracy, inferior
nobles and cavaliers, many of whom had served under the standard of
Charles in his long wars. They there formed those formidable companies
of _ordonnance_, whose fame perhaps stood higher than that of any other
corps of the imperial cavalry. The situation of these men, now
disbanded, and, with their roving military habits, hanging loosely on
the country, has been compared by a modern author to that which, on the
accession of the Bourbons, was occupied by the soldiers whom Napoleon
had so often led to victory.[494] To add to their restlessness, many of
these, as well as of the higher nobility, were embarrassed by debts
contracted in their campaigns, or by too ambitious expenditure at home,
especially in rivalry with the ostentatious Spaniard. "The Flemish
nobles," says a writer of the time, "were too many of them oppressed by
heavy debts and the payment of exorbitant interest. They spent twice as
much as they were worth on their palaces, furniture, troops of
retainers, costly liveries, their banquets and sumptuous entertainments
of every description,--in fine, in every form of luxury and superfluity
that could be devised. Thus discontent became prevalent through the
country, and men anxiously looked forward to some change."[495]

Still another element of discontent, and one that extended to all
classes, was antipathy to the Spaniards. It had not been easy to repress
this even under the rule of Charles the Fifth, who had shown such
manifest preference for his Flemish subjects. But now it was more
decidedly called out, under a monarch, whose sympathies lay altogether
on the side of their rivals. No doubt this popular sentiment is to be
explained partly by the contrast afforded by the characters of the two
nations, so great as hardly to afford a point of contact between them.
But it may be fairly charged, to a great extent, on the Spaniards
themselves, who, while they displayed many noble and magnanimous traits
at home, seemed desirous to exhibit only the repulsive side of their
character to the eye of the stranger. Cold and impenetrable, assuming an
arrogant tone of superiority over every other nation, in whatever land
it was their destiny to be cast, England, Italy, or the Netherlands, as
allies or as enemies, we find the Spaniards of that day equally
detested. Brought with them, as the people of the Netherlands were,
under a common sceptre, a spirit of comparison and rivalry grew up,
which induced a thousand causes of irritation.

The difficulty was still further increased by the condition of the
neighboring countries, where the minds of the inhabitants were now in
the highest state of fermentation in matters of religion. In short, the
atmosphere seemed everywhere to be in that highly electrified condition
which bodes the coming tempest. In this critical state of things, it was
clear that it was only by a most careful and considerate policy that
harmony could be maintained in the Netherlands; a policy manifesting
alike tenderness for the feelings of the nation and respect for its
institutions.

Having thus shown the general aspect of things when the duchess of Parma
entered on her regency, towards the close of 1559, it is time to go
forward with the narrative of the prominent events which led to the War
of the Revolution.

We have already seen that Philip, on leaving the country, lodged the
administration nominally in three councils, although in truth it was on
the council of state that the weight of government actually rested. Even
here the nobles who composed it were of little account in matters of
real importance, which were reserved for a _consulta_, consisting,
besides the regent, of Granvelle, Count Barlaimont, and the learned
jurist Viglius. As the last two were altogether devoted to Granvelle,
and the regent was instructed to defer greatly to his judgment, the
government of the Netherlands may be said to have been virtually
deposited in the hands of the bishop of Arras.

At the head of the Flemish nobles in the council of state, and indeed in
the country, taking into view their rank, fortune, and public services,
stood Count Egmont and the prince of Orange. I have already given some
account of the former, and the reader has seen the important part which
he took in the great victories of Gravelines and St. Quentin. To the
prince of Orange Philip had also been indebted for his counsel in
conducting the war, and still more for the aid which he had afforded in
the negotiations for peace. It will be proper, before going further, to
give the reader some particulars of this celebrated man, the great
leader in the war of the Netherlands.

William, prince of Orange, was born at Dillenburg, in the German duchy
of Nassau, on the twenty-fifth of April, 1533. He was descended from a
house, one of whose branches had given an emperor to Germany; and
William's own ancestors were distinguished by the employments they had
held, and the services they had rendered, both in Germany and the Low
Countries. It was a proud vaunt of his, that Philip was under larger
obligations to him than he to Philip; and that, but for the house of
Nassau, the king of Spain would not be able to write as many titles as
he now did after his name.[496]

When eleven years old, by the death of his cousin René he came into
possession of a large domain in Holland, and a still larger property in
Brabant, where he held the title of Lord of Breda. To these was added,
the splendid inheritance of Chalons, and of the principality of Orange;
which, however, situated at a distance, in the heart of France, might
seem to be held by a somewhat precarious tenure.

William's parents were both Lutherans, and in their faith he was
educated. But Charles saw with displeasure the false direction thus
given to one who at a future day was to occupy so distinguished a
position among his Flemish vassals. With the consent of his parents, the
child, in his twelfth year, was removed to Brussels, to be brought up in
the family of the emperor's sister, the Regent Mary of Hungary. However
their consent to this step may be explained, it certainly seems that
their zeal for the spiritual welfare of their son was not such as to
stand in the way of his temporal. In the family of the regent the youth
was bred a Catholic, while in all respects he received an education
suited to his rank.[497] It is an interesting fact, that his preceptor
was a younger brother of Granvelle,--the man with whom William was
afterwards to be placed in an attitude of such bitter hostility.

[Sidenote: WILLIAM OF ORANGE.]

When fifteen years of age, the prince was taken into the imperial
household, and became the page of Charles the Fifth. The emperor was not
slow in discerning the extraordinary qualities of the youth; and he
showed it by intrusting him, as he grew older, with various important
commissions. He was accompanied by the prince on his military
expeditions, and Charles gave a remarkable proof of his confidence in
his capacity, by raising him, at the age of twenty-two, over the heads
of veteran officers, and giving him the command of the imperial forces
engaged in the siege of Marienburg. During the six months that William
was in command, they were still occupied with this siege, and with the
construction of a fortress for the protection of Flanders. There was
little room for military display. But the troops were in want of food
and of money, and their young commander's conduct under these
embarrassments was such as to vindicate the wisdom of his appointment.
Charles afterwards employed him on several diplomatic missions,--a more
congenial field for the exercise of his talents, which appear to have
been better suited to civil than to military affairs.

The emperor's regard for the prince seems to have increased with his
years, and he gave public proof of it, in the last hour of his reign, by
leaning on William's shoulder at the time of his abdication, when he
made his parting address to the states of the Netherlands. He showed
this still further by selecting him for the honorable mission of bearing
the imperial crown to Ferdinand.

On his abdication, Charles earnestly commended William to his successor.
Philip profited by his services in the beginning of his reign, when the
prince of Orange, who had followed him in the French war, was made one
of the four plenipotentiaries for negotiating the treaty of
Cateau-Cambresis, for the execution of which he remained as one of the
hostages in France.

While at the court of Henry the Second, it will be remembered, the
prince became acquainted with the secret designs of the French and
Spanish monarchs against the Protestants in their dominions; and he
resolved, from that hour, to devote all his strength to expel the
"Spanish vermin" from the Netherlands. One must not infer from this,
however, that William, at this early period, meditated the design of
shaking off the rule of Spain altogether. The object he had in view went
no further than to relieve the country from the odious presence of the
Spanish troops, and to place the administration in those hands to which
it rightfully belonged. They, however, who set a revolution in motion
have not always the power to stop it. If they can succeed in giving it a
direction, they will probably be carried forward by it beyond their
intended limits, until, gathering confidence with success, they aim at
an end far higher than that which they had originally proposed. Such,
doubtless, was the case with William of Orange.

Notwithstanding the emperor's recommendation, the prince of Orange was
not the man whom Philip selected for his confidence. Nor was it possible
for William to regard the king with the same feelings which he had
entertained for the emperor. To Charles the prince was under obvious
obligations for his nurture in early life. His national pride, too, was
not wounded by having a Spaniard for his sovereign, since Charles was
not by birth, much less in heart, a Spaniard. All this was reversed in
Philip, in whom William saw only the representative of a detested race.
The prudent reserve which marked the character of each, no doubt,
prevented the outward demonstration of their sentiments; but from their
actions we may readily infer the instinctive aversion which the two
parties entertained for each other.

At the early age of eighteen, William married Anne of Egmont, daughter
of the count of Büren. The connection was a happy one, if we may trust
the loving tone of their correspondence. Unhappily, in a few years their
union was dissolved by the lady's death. The prince did not long remain
a widower, before he made proposals to the daughter of the duchess of
Lorraine. The prospect of such a match gave great dissatisfaction to
Philip, who had no mind to see his Flemish vassal allied with the family
of a great feudatory of France. Disappointed in this quarter, William
next paid his addresses to Anne of Saxony, an heiress, whose large
possessions made her one of the most brilliant matches in Germany.
William's passion and his interest, it was remarked, kept time well
together.

The course of love, however, was not destined to run smoothly on the
present occasion. Anne was the daughter of Maurice, the great Lutheran
champion, the implacable enemy of Charles the Fifth. Left early an
orphan, she had been reared in the family of her uncle, the elector of
Saxony, in the strictest tenets of the Lutheran faith. Such a connection
was, of course, every way distasteful to Philip, to whom William was
willing so far to defer as to solicit his approbation, though he did not
mean to be controlled by it.[498] The correspondence on the subject, in
which both the regent and Granvelle took an active part, occupies as
much space in collections of the period as more important negotiations.
The prince endeavored to silence the king's scruples, by declaring that
he was too much a Catholic at heart to marry any woman who was not of
the same persuasion as himself; and that he had received assurances from
the elector that his wife in this respect should entirely conform to his
wishes. The elector had scruples as to the match, no less than Philip,
though on precisely the opposite grounds; and, after the prince's
assurance to the king, one is surprised to find that an understanding
must have existed with the elector that Anne should be allowed the
undisturbed enjoyment of her own religion.[499] This double dealing
leaves a disagreeable impression in regard to William's character. Yet
it does not seem, to judge from his later life, to be altogether
inconsistent with it. Machiavelli is the author whom he is said to have
had most frequently in his hand;[500] and in the policy with which he
shaped his course, we may sometimes fancy that we can discern the
influence of the Italian statesman.

The marriage was celebrated with great pomp at Leipsic, on the
twenty-fifth of August, 1561. The king of Denmark, several of the
electors, and many princes and nobles of both Germany and the Low
Countries, were invited guests; and the whole assembly present on the
occasion was estimated at nearly six thousand persons.[501] The king of
Spain complimented the bride by sending her a jewel worth three thousand
ducats.[502] It proved, however, as Granvelle had predicted, an
ill-assorted union. After living together for nearly thirteen years, the
prince, weary of the irregularities of his wife, separated from her, and
sent her back to her friends in Germany.

[Sidenote: WILLIAM OF ORANGE.]

During his residence in Brussels, William easily fell into the way of
life followed by the Flemish nobles. He was very fond of the healthy
exercise of the chase, and especially of hawking. He was social, indeed
convivial, in his habits, after the fashion of his countrymen;[503] and
was addicted to gallantries, which continued long enough, it is said, to
suggest an apology for the disorderly conduct of his wife. He occupied
the ancient palace of his family at Brussels, where he was surrounded by
lords and cavaliers, and a numerous retinue of menials.[504] He lived in
great state, displaying a profuse magnificence in his entertainments;
and few there were, natives or foreigners, who had any claim on his
hospitality, that did not receive it.[505] By this expensive way of
life, he encumbered his estate with a heavy debt; amounting, if we may
take Granvelle's word, to nine hundred thousand florins.[506] Yet, if
William's own account, but one year later, be true, the debt was then
brought within a very moderate compass.[507]

With his genial habits and love of pleasure, and with manners the most
attractive, he had not the free and open temper which often goes along
with them. He was called by his contemporaries "William the Silent."
Perhaps the epithet was intended to indicate not so much his
taciturnity, as that impenetrable reserve which locked up his secrets
closely within his bosom. No man knew better how to keep his counsel,
even from those who acted with him. But while masking his own designs,
no man was more sagacious in penetrating those of others. He carried on
an extensive correspondence in foreign countries, and employed every
means for getting information. Thus, while he had it in his power to
outwit others, it was very rare that he became their dupe. Though on
ordinary occasions frugal of words, when he did speak it was with
effect. His eloquence was of the most persuasive kind;[508] and as
towards his inferiors he was affable, and exceedingly considerate of
their feelings, he acquired an unbounded ascendancy over his
countrymen.[509] It must be admitted that the prince of Orange possessed
many rare qualities for the leader of a great revolution.

The course William took in respect to his wife's religion might lead one
to doubt whether he were at heart Catholic or Protestant; or indeed
whether he were not equally indifferent to both persuasions. The latter
opinion might be strengthened by a remark imputed to him, that "he would
not have his wife trouble herself with such melancholy books as the
Scriptures, but instead of them amuse herself with Amadis de Gaul, and
other pleasant works of the kind."[510] "The prince of Orange," says a
writer of the time, "passed for a Catholic among Catholics, a Lutheran
among Lutherans. If he could, he would have had a religion compounded of
both. In truth, he looked on the Christian religion like the ceremonies
which Numa introduced, as a sort of politic invention."[511] Granvelle,
in a letter to Philip, speaks much to the same purpose.[512] These
portraits were by unfriendly hands. Those who take a different view of
his character, while they admit that in his early days his opinions in
matters of faith were unsettled, contend that in time he became
sincerely attached to the doctrines which he defended with his sword.
This seems to be no more than natural. But the reader will have an
opportunity of judging for himself, when he has followed the great chief
through the changes of his stormy career.

It would be strange, indeed, if the leader in a religious revolution
should have been himself without any religious convictions. One thing is
certain, he possessed a spirit of toleration, the more honorable that in
that day it was so rare. He condemned the Calvinists as restless and
seditious; the Catholics, for their bigoted attachment to a dogma.
Persecution in matters of faith he totally condemned, for freedom of
judgment in such matters he regarded as the inalienable right of
man.[513] These conclusions, at which the world, after an incalculable
amount of human suffering, has been three centuries in arriving, (has it
altogether arrived at them yet?) must be allowed to reflect great credit
on the character of William.

[Sidenote: GROUNDS OF COMPLAINT.]




CHAPTER VI.

OPPOSITION TO THE GOVERNMENT.

Grounds of Complaint.--The Spanish Troops.--The New
Bishoprics.--Influence on Granvelle.--Opposed by the Nobles.--His
Unpopularity.

1559-1562.


The first cause of trouble, after Philip's departure from the
Netherlands, arose from the detention of the Spanish troops there. The
king had pledged his word, it will be remembered, that they should leave
the country by the end of four months, at farthest. Yet that period had
long since passed, and no preparations were made for their departure.
The indignation of the people rose higher and higher at the insult thus
offered by the presence of these detested foreigners. It was a season of
peace. No invasion was threatened from abroad; no insurrection existed
at home. There was nothing to require the maintenance of an
extraordinary force, much less of one composed of foreign troops. It
could only be that the king, distrusting his Flemish subjects, designed
to overawe them by his mercenaries, in sufficient strength to enforce
his arbitrary acts. The free spirit of the Netherlanders was roused by
these suggestions, and they boldly demanded the removal of the
Spaniards.

Granvelle himself, who would willingly have pleased his master by
retaining a force in the country on which he could rely, admitted that
the project was impracticable. "The troops must be withdrawn," he wrote,
"and that speedily, or the consequence will be an insurrection."[514]
The states would not consent, he said, to furnish the necessary
subsidies while they remained. The prince of Orange and Count Egmont
threw up the commands intrusted to them by the king. They dared no
longer hold them, as the minister added, it was so unpopular.[515]

The troops had much increased the difficulty by their own misconduct.
They were drawn from the great mass, often the dregs, of the people; and
their morals, such as they were, had not been improved in the life of
the camp. However strict their discipline in time of active service, it
was greatly relaxed in their present state of inaction; and they had
full license, as well as leisure, to indulge their mischievous
appetites, at the expense of the unfortunate districts in which they
were quartered.

Yet Philip was slow in returning an answer to the importunate letters of
the regent and the minister; and when he did reply, it was to evade
their request, lamenting his want of funds, and declaring his purpose to
remove the forces so soon as he could pay their arrears. The public
exchequer was undoubtedly at a low ebb; lower in Spain than in the
Netherlands.[516] But no one could believe the royal credit so far
reduced as not to be able to provide for the arrears of three or four
thousand soldiers. The regent, however, saw that, with or without
instructions, it was necessary to act. Several of the members of the
council became sureties for the payment of the arrears, and the troops
were ordered to Zealand, in order to embark for Spain. But the winds
proved unfavorable. Two months longer they were detained, on shore or on
board the transports. They soon got into brawls with the workmen
employed on the dikes; and the inhabitants, still apprehensive of orders
from the king countermanding the departure of the Spaniards, resolved,
in such an event, to abandon the dikes, and lay the country under
water![517] Fortunately, they were not driven to this extremity. In
January, 1561, more than a year after the date assigned by Philip, the
nation was relieved of the presence of the intruders.[518]

Philip's conduct in this affair is not very easy to explain. However
much he might have desired originally to maintain the troops in the
Netherlands, as an armed police on which he could rely to enforce the
execution of his orders, it had become clear that the good they might do
in quelling an insurrection was more than counterbalanced by the
probability of their exciting one. It was characteristic of the king,
however, to be slow in retreating from any position he had taken; and,
as we shall often have occasion to see, there was a certain apathy or
sluggishness in his nature, which led him sometimes to leave events to
take their own course, rather than to shape a course for them himself.

This difficulty was no sooner settled, than it was followed by another
scarcely less serious. We have seen, in a former chapter, the
arrangements made for adding thirteen new bishoprics to the four already
existing in the Netherlands. The measure, in itself a good one, and
demanded by the situation of the country, was, from the posture of
affairs at that time, likely to meet with opposition, if not to occasion
great excitement. For this reason, the whole affair had been kept
profoundly secret by the government. It was not till 1561 that Philip
disclosed his views, in a letter to some of the principal nobles in the
council of state. But, long before that time, the project had taken
wind, and created a general sensation through the country.

The people looked on it as an attempt to subject them to the same
ecclesiastical system which existed in Spain. The bishops, by virtue of
their office, were possessed of certain inquisitorial powers, and these
were still further enlarged by the provisions of the royal edicts.
Philip's attachment to the Inquisition was well understood, and there
was probably not a child in the country who had not heard of the _auto
da fé_ which he had sanctioned by his presence on his return to his
dominions. The present changes were regarded as part of a great scheme
for introducing the Spanish Inquisition into the Netherlands.[519]
However erroneous these conclusions, there is little reason to doubt
they were encouraged by those who knew their fallacy.

[Sidenote: THE NEW BISHOPRICS.]

The nobles had other reasons for opposing the measure. The bishops would
occupy in the legislature the place formerly held by the abbots, who
were indebted for their election to the religious houses over which they
presided. The new prelates, on the contrary, would receive their
nomination from the crown; and the nobles saw with alarm their own
independence menaced by the accession of an order of men who would
naturally be subservient to the interests of the monarch. That the crown
was not insensible to these advantages is evident from a letter of the
minister, in which he sneers at the abbots, as "men fit only to rule
over monasteries, ever willing to thwart the king, and as perverse as
the lowest of the people."[520]

But the greatest opposition arose from the manner in which the new
dignitaries were to be maintained. This was to be done by suppressing
the offices of the abbots, and by appropriating the revenues of their
houses to the maintenance of the bishops. For this economical
arrangement Granvelle seems to have been chiefly responsible. Thus the
income--amounting to fifty thousand ducats--of the Abbey of Afflighen,
one of the wealthiest in Brabant, was to be bestowed on the
archiepiscopal see of Mechlin, to be held by the minister himself.[521]
In virtue of that dignity, Granvelle would become primate of the
Netherlands.

Loud was the clamor excited by this arrangement among the members of the
religious fraternities, and all those who directly or indirectly had any
interest in them. It was a manifest perversion of the funds from the
objects for which they had been given to the institutions. It was
interfering with the economy of these institutions, protected by the
national charters; and the people of Brabant appealed to the "_Joyeuse
Entrée_." Jurists of the greatest eminence, in different parts of
Europe, were consulted as to the legality of these proceedings. Thirty
thousand florins were expended by Brabant alone in this matter, as well
as in employing an agent at the court of Rome to exhibit the true state
of the affair to his holiness, and to counteract the efforts of the
Spanish government.[522]

The reader may remember, that, just before Philip's departure from the
Netherlands, a bull arrived from Rome authorizing the erection of the
new bishoprics. This was but the initiatory step. Many other proceedings
were necessary before the consummation of the affair. Owing to
impediments thrown in the way by the provinces, and the habitual
tardiness of the court of Rome, nearly three years elapsed before the
final briefs were expedited by Pius the Fourth. New obstacles were
raised by the jealous temper of the Flemings, who regarded the whole
matter as a conspiracy of the pope and the king against the liberties of
the nation. Utrecht, Gueldres, and three other places, refused to
receive their bishops; and they never obtained a footing there.
Antwerp, which was to have been made an episcopal see, sent a commission
to the king to represent the ruin this would bring on its trade, from
the connection supposed to exist between the episcopal establishment and
the Spanish Inquisition. For a year the king would not condescend to
give any heed to the remonstrance. He finally consented to defer the
decision of the question till his arrival in the country; and Antwerp
was saved from its bishop.[523]

In another place we find the bishop obtaining an admission through the
management of Granvelle, who profited by the temporary absence of the
nobles. Nowhere were the new prelates received with enthusiasm, but, on
the contrary, wherever they were admitted, it was with a coldness and
silence that intimated too plainly the aversion of the inhabitants. Such
was the case with the archbishop of Mechlin himself, who made his entry
into the capital of his diocese with not a voice to cheer or to welcome
him.[524] In fact, everywhere the newly elected prelate seemed more like
the thief stealthily climbing into the fold, than the good shepherd who
had come to guard it.

Meanwhile the odium of these measures fell on the head of the minister.
No other man had been so active in enforcing them, and he had the credit
universally with the people of having originated the whole scheme, and
proposed it to the sovereign. But from this Philip expressly exonerates
him in a letter to the regent, in which he says, that the whole plan had
been settled long before it was communicated to Granvelle.[525] Indeed,
the latter, with some show of reason, demanded whether, being already
one of four bishops in the country, he should be likely to recommend a
plan which would make him only one of seventeen.[526] This appeal to
self-interest did not wholly satisfy those who thought that it was
better to be the first of seventeen, than to be merely one of four where
all were equal.

Whatever may have been Granvelle's original way of thinking in the
matter, it is certain that, whether it arose from his accommodating
temper, or from his perceptions of the advantages of the scheme being
quickened by his prospect of the primacy, he soon devoted himself, heart
as well as hand, to carry out the royal views. "I am convinced," he
writes, in the spring of 1560, to Philip's secretary, Perez, "that no
measure could be more advantageous to the country, or more necessary for
the support of religion; and if necessary to the success of the scheme,
I would willingly devote to it my fortune and my life."[527]

[Sidenote: INFLUENCE OF GRANVELLE.]

Accordingly we find him using all his strength to carry the project
through, devising expedients for raising the episcopal revenues, and
thus occupying a position which exposed him to general obloquy. He felt
this bitterly, and at times, even with all his constancy, was hardly
able to endure it. "Though I say nothing," he writes in the month of
September, 1561, to the Spanish ambassador in Rome, "I feel the danger
of the situation in which the king has placed me. All the odium of these
measures falls on my head; and I only pray that a remedy for the evil
may be found, though it should be by the sacrifice of myself. Would to
God the erection of these bishoprics had never been thought of!"[528]

In February, 1561, Granvelle received a cardinal's hat from Pope Pius
the Fourth. He did not show the alacrity usually manifested in accepting
this distinguished honor. He had obtained it by the private intercession
of the duchess of Parma; and he feared lest the jealousy of Philip might
be alarmed, were it to any other than himself that his minister owed
this distinction. But the king gave the proceeding his cordial sanction,
declaring to Granvelle that the reward was no higher than his desert.

Thus clothed with the Roman purple, primate of the Netherlands, and
first minister of state, Granvelle might now look down on the proudest
noble in the land. He stood at the head of both the civil and the
ecclesiastical administration of the country. All authority centred in
his person. Indeed, such had been the organization of the council of
state, that the minister might be said to be not so much the head of the
government as the government itself.

The affairs of the council were conducted in the manner prescribed by
Philip. Ordinary business passed through the hands of the whole body;
but affairs of moment were reserved for the cardinal and his two
coadjutors to settle with the regent. On such occasions the other
ministers were not even summoned, or, if summoned, such only of the
despatches from Spain as the minister chose to communicate were read,
and the remainder reserved for the _consulta_. When, as did sometimes
happen, the nobles carried a measure in opposition to Granvelle, he
would refer the whole question to the court at Madrid.[529] By this
expedient he gained time for the present, and probably obtained a
decision in his favor at last. The regent conformed entirely to the
cardinal's views. The best possible understanding seems to have
subsisted between them, to judge from the tone of their correspondence
with Philip, in which each of the parties bestows the most unqualified
panegyric on the other. Yet there was a strange reserve in their
official intercourse. Even when occupying the same palace, they are said
to have communicated with each other by writing.[530] The reason
suggested for this singular proceeding is, that it might not appear,
from their being much together, that the regent was acting so entirely
under the direction of the minister. It is certain that both Margaret
and Granvelle had an uncommon passion for letter-writing, as is shown by
the length and number of their epistles, particularly to the king. The
cardinal especially went into a gossiping minuteness of detail, to which
few men in his station would have condescended. But his master, to whom
his letters at this period were chiefly addressed, had the virtue of
patience in an extraordinary degree, as is evinced by the faithful
manner in which he perused these despatches, and made notes upon them
with his own hand.

The minister occupied a palace in Brussels, and had another residence at
a short distance from the capital.[531] He maintained great pomp in his
establishment, was attended by a large body of retainers, and his
equipage and liveries were distinguished by their magnificence. He gave
numerous banquets, held large _levées_, and, in short, assumed a state
in his manner of living which corresponded with his station, and did no
violence to his natural taste. We may well believe that the great lords
of the country, whose ancestors had for centuries filled its highest
places, must have chafed as they saw themselves thrown into the shade by
one whose fortunes had been thus suddenly forced to this unnatural
height by the sunshine of royal favor. Their indignation was heightened
by the tricky arrangement, which, while it left them ciphers in the
administration, made them responsible to the people for its measures.
And if the imputation to Granvelle of arrogance, in the pride of his
full-blown fortunes, was warranted, feelings of a personal nature may
have mingled with those of general discontent.

But, however they may have felt, the Flemish lords must be allowed not
to have been precipitate in the demonstration of their feelings. It is
not till 1562 that we observe the cardinal, in his correspondence with
Spain, noticing any discourtesy in the nobles, or intimating the
existence of any misunderstanding with them. In the spring of the
preceding year we find the prince of Orange "commending himself
cordially and affectionately to the cardinal's good will;" and
subscribing himself, "your very good friend to command."[532] In four
months after this, on the twenty-third of July, we have a letter from
this "very good friend" and count Egmont, addressed to Philip. In this
epistle the writers complain bitterly of their exclusion from all
business of importance in the council of state. They were only invited
to take part in deliberations of no moment. This was contrary to the
assurance of his majesty when they reluctantly accepted office; and it
was in obedience to his commands to advise him if this should occur that
they now wrote to him.[533] Nevertheless, they should have still
continued to bear the indignity in silence, had they not found that they
were held responsible by the people for measures in which they had no
share.[534]--Considering the arrangement Philip had made for the
_consulta_, one has little reason to commend his candor in this
transaction, and not much to praise his policy. As he did not redress
the evil, his implied disavowal of being privy to it would hardly go for
anything with the injured party. In his answer, Philip thanked the
nobles for their zeal in his service, and promised to reply to them more
at large on the return of Count Hoorne to Flanders.[535]

There is no reason to suppose that Granvelle was ever acquainted with
the fact of the letter having been written by the two lords. The
privilege claimed by the novelist, who looks over the shoulders of his
heroes and heroines when they are inditing their epistles, is also
enjoyed by the historian. With the materials rescued from the mouldering
archives of the past, he can present the reader with a more perfect view
of the motives and opinions of the great actors in the drama three
centuries ago, than they possessed in respect to one another. This is
particularly true of the period before us, when the correspondence of
the parties interested was ample in itself, and, through the care taken
of it, in public and private collections, has been well preserved. Such
care was seldom bestowed on historical documents of this class before
the sixteenth century.

[Sidenote: OPPOSED BY THE NOBLES.]

It is not till long--nearly a year--after the date of the preceding
letter, that anything appears to intimate the existence of a coldness,
much less of an open rupture, between Granvelle and the discontented
nobles. Meanwhile, the religious troubles in France had been fast
gathering to a head; and the opposite factions ranged themselves under
the banners of their respective chiefs, prepared to decide the question
by arms. Philip the Second, who stood forth as the champion of
Catholicism, not merely in his own dominions, but throughout
Christendom, watched with anxiety the struggle going forward in the
neighboring kingdom. It had the deeper interest for him, from its
influence on the Low Countries. His Italian possessions were separated
from France by the Alps; his Spanish, by the Pyrenees. But no such
mountain barrier lay between France and Flanders. They were not even
separated, in the border provinces, by difference of language. Every
shock given to France must necessarily be felt in the remotest corner of
the Netherlands. Granvelle was so well aware of this, that he besought
the king to keep an eye on his French neighbors, and support them in the
maintenance of the Roman Catholic religion. "That they should be
maintained in this is quite as important to us as it is to them. Many
here," he adds, "would be right glad to see affairs go badly for the
Catholics in that kingdom. No noble as yet among us has openly declared
himself. Should any one do so, God only could save the country from the
fate of France."[536]

Acting on these hints, and conformably to his own views, Philip sent
orders to the regent to raise two thousand men, and send them across the
borders to support the French Catholics. The orders met with decided
resistance in the council of state. The great Flemish lords, at this
time, must have affected, if they did not feel, devotion to the
established religion. But they well knew there was too large a leaven of
heresy in the country to make these orders palatable. They felt no
desire, moreover, thus unnecessarily to mix themselves up with the feuds
of France. They represented that the troops could not safely be
dispensed with in the present state of feeling at home; and that, if
they marched against the Protestants of France, the German Protestants
might be expected to march against them.

Granvelle, on the other hand, would have enforced the orders of Philip,
as essential to the security of the Netherlands themselves. Margaret,
thus pressed by the opposite parties, felt the embarrassment of either
course. The alternative presented was, that of disobeying the king, or
of incurring the resentment, perhaps the resistance, of the nation.
Orange and Egmont besought her to convoke the states-general, as the
only safe counsellors in such an emergency. The states had often been
convened on matters of less moment by the former regent, Mary of
Hungary. But the cardinal had no mind to invoke the interference of that
"mischievous animal, the people."[537] He had witnessed a convocation of
the states previous to the embarkation of Philip; and he had not
forgotten the independent tone then assumed by that body. It had been,
indeed, the last injunction of the king to his sister, on no account to
call a meeting of the national legislature till his return to the
country.

But while on this ground Margaret refused to summon the states-general,
she called a meeting of the order of the Golden Fleece, to whom she was
to apply for counsel on extraordinary occasions. The knights of the
order consisted of persons of the highest consideration in the country,
including the governors of the provinces. In May, 1562, they assembled
at Brussels. Before meeting in public, the prince of Orange invited them
to a conference in his own palace. He there laid before them the state
of the country, and endeavored to concert with the members some regular
system of resistance to the exclusive and arbitrary course of the
minister. Although no definite action took place at that time, most of
those present would seem to have fallen in with the views of the prince.
There were some, however, who took opposite ground, and who declared
themselves content with Granvelle, and not disposed to prescribe to
their sovereign the choice of his ministers. The foremost of these were
the duke of Arschot, a zealous Catholic, and Count Barlaimont, president
of the council of finance, and, as we have already seen, altogether
devoted to the minister. This nobleman communicated to Margaret the
particulars of the meeting in the prince's palace; and the regent was
careful to give the knights of the order such incessant occupation
during the remainder of their stay in the capital, as to afford the
prince of Orange no opportunity of pursuing his scheme of
agitation.[538]

Before the assembly of the Golden Fleece had been dissolved, it was
decided to send an envoy to the king to lay before him the state of the
country, both in regard to the religious excitement, much stimulated in
certain quarters by the condition of France, and to the financial
embarrassments, which now pressed heavily on the government. The person
selected for the office was Florence de Montmorency, lord of Montigny, a
cavalier who had the boldness to avow his aversion to any interference
with the rights of conscience, and whose sympathies, it will be
believed, were not on the side of the minister.

Soon after his departure, the vexed question of aid to France was
settled in the council by commuting personal service for money. It was
decided to raise a subsidy of fifty thousand crowns, to be remitted at
once to the French government.[539]

Montigny reached Spain in June, 1562. He was graciously received by
Philip, who, in a protracted audience, gathered from him a
circumstantial account of the condition of the Netherlands. In answer to
the royal queries, the envoy also exposed the misunderstanding which
existed between the minister and the nobles.

But the duchess of Parma did not trust this delicate affair to the
representations of Montigny. She wrote herself to her brother, in
Italian, which, when she would give her own views on matters of
importance, she used instead of French, ordinarily employed by the
secretaries. In Italian she expressed herself with the greatest fluency,
and her letters in that language, for the purpose of secrecy, were
written with her own hand.

[Sidenote: OPPOSED BY THE NOBLES.]

The duchess informed the king of the troubles that had arisen with the
nobles; charging Orange and Egmont, especially, as the source of them.
She accused them of maliciously circulating rumors that the cardinal had
advised Philip to invade the country with an armed force, and to cut off
the heads of some five or six of the principal malecontents.[540] She
paid a high tribute to the minister's loyalty, and his talent for
business; and she besought the king to disabuse Montigny in respect to
the common idea of a design to introduce the Spanish Inquisition into
the country, and to do violence to its institutions.

The war was now openly proclaimed between the cardinal and the nobles.
Whatever decorum might be preserved in their intercourse, there was no
longer any doubt as to the hostile attitude in which they were hereafter
to stand in respect to each other. In a letter written a short time
previous to that of the regent, the cardinal gives a brief view of his
situation to the king. The letter is written in the courageous spirit of
one who does not shrink from the dangers that menace him. After an
observation intimating no great confidence in the orthodoxy of the
prince of Orange, he remarks: "Though the prince shows me a friendly
face, when absent he is full of discontent. They have formed a league
against me," he continues, "and threaten my life. But I have little fear
on that score, as I think they are much too wise to attempt any such
thing. They complain of my excluding them from office, and endeavoring
to secure an absolute authority for your majesty. All which they repeat
openly at their banquets, with no good effect on the people. Yet never
were there governors of the provinces who possessed so much power as
they have, or who had all appointments more completely in their own
hands. In truth, their great object is to reduce your majesty and the
regent to the condition of mere ciphers in the government."

"They refuse to come to my table," he adds, "at which I smile. I find
guests enough in the gentry of the country, the magistrates, and even
the worthy burghers of the city, whose good-will it is well to
conciliate against a day of trouble. These evils I bear with patience,
as I can. For adversity is sent by the Almighty, who will recompense
those who suffer for religion and justice." The cardinal was fond of
regarding himself in the light of a martyr.

He concludes this curious epistle with beseeching the king to come soon
to the Netherlands; "to come well attended, and with plenty of money;
since, thus provided, he will have no lack of troops, if required to act
abroad, while his presence will serve to calm the troubled spirits at
home."[541] The politic minister says nothing of the use that might be
made of these troops at home. Such an intimation would justify the
charges already brought against him. He might safely leave his master to
make that application for himself.

In December, 1562, Montigny returned from his mission, and straightway
made his report to the council of state. He enlarged on the solicitude
which Philip had shown for the interests of the country. Nothing had
been further from his mind than to introduce into it the Spanish
Inquisition. He was only anxious to exterminate the growing heresy from
the land, and called on those in authority to aid in the good work with
all their strength. Finally, though pressed by want of funds, he
promised, so soon as he could settle his affairs in Spain, to return to
Flanders.--It was not unusual for Philip to hold out the idea of his
speedy return to the country. The king's gracious reception seems to
have had some effect on Montigny. At all events, he placed a degree of
confidence in the royal professions, in which the sceptical temper of
William was far from acquiescing. He intimated as much to his friend,
and the latter, not relishing the part of a dupe, which the prince's
language seemed to assign to him, retorted in an angry manner; and
something like altercation took place between the two lords, in the
presence of the duchess. At least, such is the report of the
historians.[542] But historians in a season of faction are not the best
authorities. In the troubles before us we have usually a safer guide in
the correspondence of the actors.

By Montigny despatches were also brought from Philip for the duchess of
Parma. They contained suggestions as to her policy in reference to the
factious nobles, whom the king recommended to her, if possible, to
divide by sowing the seeds of jealousy among them.[543] Egmont was a
stanch Catholic, loyal in his disposition, ambitious, and vain. It would
not be difficult to detach him from his associates by a show of
preference, which, while it flattered his vanity, would excite in them
jealousy and distrust.

In former times there had been something of these feelings betwixt
Egmont and the prince of Orange. At least there had been estrangement.
This might, in some degree, be referred to the contrast in their
characters. Certainly no two characters could be more strongly
contrasted with each other. Egmont, frank, fiery, impulsive in his
temper, had little in common with the cool, cautious, and calculating
William. The showy qualities of the former, lying on the surface, more
readily caught the popular eye. There was a depth in William's character
not easy to be fathomed,--an habitual reserve, which made it difficult
even for those who knew him best always to read him right. Yet the
coolness between these two nobles may have arisen less from difference
of character than from similarity of position. Both, by their rank and
services, took the foremost ground in public estimation, so that it was
scarcely possible they should not jostle each other in the career of
ambition. But however divided formerly, they were now too closely united
by the pressure of external circumstances to be separated by the subtle
policy of Philip. Under the influence of a common disgust with the
administration and its arbitrary measures, they continued to act in
concert together, and, in their union, derived benefit from the very
opposition of their characters. For what better augury of success than
that afforded by the union of wisdom in council with boldness in
execution?

The consequences of the troubles in France, as had been foreseen, were
soon visible in the Low Countries. The Protestants of that time
constituted a sort of federative republic, or rather a great secret
association, extending through the different parts of Europe, but so
closely linked together that a blow struck in one quarter instantly
vibrated to every other. The Calvinists in the border provinces of the
Low Countries felt, in particular, great sympathy with the movements of
their French brethren. Many Huguenots took shelter among them. Others
came to propagate their doctrines. Tracts in the French tongue were
distributed and read with avidity. Preachers harangued in the
conventicles; and the people, by hundreds and thousands, openly
assembled, and, marching in procession, chanted the Psalms of David in
the translation of Marot.[544]

[Sidenote: RESISTANCE TO THE EDICTS.]

This open defiance of the edicts called for the immediate interposition
of the government. At Tournay two Calvinist preachers were arrested,
and, after a regular trial, condemned and burned at the stake. In
Valenciennes two others were seized, in like manner, tried, and
sentenced to the same terrible punishment. But as the marquis of Bergen,
the governor of the province, had left the place on a visit to a
distant quarter, the execution was postponed till his return. Seven
months thus passed, when the regent wrote to the marquis, remonstrating
on his unseasonable absence from his post. He had the spirit to answer,
that "it neither suited his station nor his character to play the part
of an executioner."[545] The marquis of Bergen had early ranged himself
on the side of the prince of Orange, and he is repeatedly noticed by
Granvelle, in his letters, as the most active of the malecontents. It
may well be believed he was no friend to the system of persecution
pursued by the government. Urged by Granvelle, the magistrates of the
city at length assumed the office of conducting the execution
themselves. On the day appointed, the two martyrs were escorted to the
stake. The funeral pile was prepared, and the torch was about to be
applied, when, at a signal from one of the prisoners, the multitude
around broke in upon the place of execution, trampled down the guards
and officers of justice, scattered the fagots collected for the
sacrifice, and liberated the victims. Then, throwing themselves into a
procession, they paraded the streets of the city, singing their psalms
and Calvinistic hymns.

Meanwhile the officers of justice succeeded in again arresting the
unfortunate men, and carrying them back to prison. But it was not long
before their friends, assembling in greater numbers than before, stormed
the fortress, forced the gates, and, rescuing the prisoners, carried
them off in triumph.

These high-handed measures caused, as may be supposed, great indignation
at the court of the regent. She instantly ordered a levy of three
thousand troops, and, placing them under the marquis of Bergen, sent
them against the insurgents. The force was such as to overcome all
resistance. Arrests were made in great numbers, and the majesty of the
law was vindicated by the trial and punishment of the ringleaders.[546]

"Rigorous and severe measures," wrote Philip, "are the only ones to be
employed in matters of religion. It is by fear only that the
rabble"--meaning by this the Reformers--"can be made to do their duty,
and not always then."[547] This liberal sentiment found less favor in
the Low Countries than in Spain. "One must ponder well," writes the
cardinal to Perez, the royal secretary, "before issuing those absolute
decrees, which are by no means as implicitly received here as they are
in Italy."[548] The Fleming appealed to his laws, and, with all the
minister's zeal, it was found impossible to move forward at the fiery
pace of the Spanish Inquisition.

"It would raise a tumult at once," he writes, "should we venture to
arrest a man without the clearest evidence. No man can be proceeded
against without legal proof."[549] But an insurmountable obstacle in the
way of enforcing the cruel edicts lay in the feelings of the nation. No
law repugnant to such feelings can long be executed. "I accuse none of
the nobles of being heretics," writes the regent to her brother; "but
they show little zeal in the cause of religion, while the magistrates
shrink from their duty from fear of the people."[550] "How absurd is
it," exclaims Granvelle, "for depositions to be taken before the
Inquisition in Spain, in order to search out heretics in Antwerp, where
thousands are every day walking about whom no one meddles with!"[551]
"It is more than a year," he says, "since a single arrest on a charge of
heresy has taken place in that city."[552] Yet whatever may have been
the state of persecution at the present time, the vague dread of the
future must have taken strong hold of people's minds, if, as a
contemporary writes, there were no less than eighteen or twenty thousand
refugees then in England, who had fled from Flanders for the sake of
their religion.[553]

The odium of this persecution all fell on the head of Granvelle. He was
the tool of Spain. Spain was under the yoke of the Inquisition.
Therefore it was clearly the minister's design to establish the Spanish
Inquisition over the Netherlands. Such was the concise logic by which
people connected the name of Granvelle with that of the most dreaded of
tribunals.[554] He was held responsible for the contrivance of the most
unpopular measures of government, as well as for their execution. A
thousand extravagant stories were circulated both of his private and his
political life, which it is probably doing no injustice to the nobles to
suppose they did not take much pains to correct. The favorite of the
prince is rarely the favorite of the people. But no minister had ever
been so unpopular as Granvelle in the Netherlands. He was hated by the
nobles for his sudden elevation to power, and for the servile means, as
they thought, by which he had risen to it. The people hated him, because
he used that power for the ruin of their liberties. No
administration--none certainly, if we except that of the iron Alva--was
more odious to the nation.

[Sidenote: LEAGUE AGAINST GRANVELLE.]

Notwithstanding Granvelle's constancy, and the countenance he received
from the regent and a few of the leading councillors, it was hard to
bear up under this load of obloquy. He would gladly have had the king
return to the country, and sustain him by his presence. It is the burden
of his correspondence at this period. "It is a common notion here," he
writes to the secretary, Perez, "that they are all ready in Spain to
sacrifice the Low Countries. The lords talk so freely, that every moment
I fear an insurrection.... For God's sake, persuade the king to come, or
it will lie heavy on his conscience."[555] The minister complains to the
secretary that he seems to be entirely abandoned by the government at
home. "It is three months," he writes, "since I have received a letter
from the court. We know as little of Spain here as of the Indies. Such
delays are dangerous, and may cost the king dear."[556]--It is clear his
majesty exercised his royal prerogative of having the correspondence all
on one side. At least his own share in it, at this period, was small,
and his letters were concise indeed in comparison with the voluminous
epistles of his minister. Perhaps there was some policy in this silence
of the monarch. His opinions, nay, his wishes, would have, to some
extent, the weight of laws. He would not, therefore, willingly commit
himself. He preferred to conform to his natural tendency to trust to the
course of events, instead of disturbing them by too precipitate action.
The cognomen by which Philip is recognized on the roll of Castilian
princes is "the Prudent."




CHAPTER VII.

GRANVELLE COMPELLED TO WITHDRAW.

League against Granvelle.--Margaret desires his Removal.--Philip
deliberates.--Granvelle dismissed.--Leaves the Netherlands.

1562-1564.


While the state of feeling towards Granvelle, in the nation generally,
was such as is described in the preceding chapter, the lords who were in
the council of state chafed more and more under their exclusion from
business. As the mask was now thrown away, they no longer maintained the
show of deference which they had hitherto paid to the minister. From
opposition to his measures, they passed to irony, ridicule, sarcasm;
till, finding that their assaults had little effect to disturb
Granvelle's temper, and still less to change his policy, they grew at
length less and less frequent in their attendance at the council, where
they played so insignificant a part. This was a sore embarrassment to
the regent, who needed the countenance of the great nobles to protect
her with the nation, in the unpopular measures in which she was
involved.

Even Granvelle, with all his equanimity, considered the crisis so grave
as to demand some concession, or at least a show of it, on his own part,
to conciliate the good-will of his enemies. He authorized the duchess to
say that he was perfectly willing that they should be summoned to the
_consulta_, and to absent himself from its meetings; indeed, to resign
the administration altogether, provided the king approved of it.[557]
Whether Margaret communicated this to the nobles does not appear; at all
events, as nothing came of these magnanimous concessions of the
minister, they had no power to soothe the irritation of his
enemies.[558]

On the contrary, the disaffected lords were bending their efforts to
consolidate their league, of which Granvelle, it may be recollected,
noticed the existence in a letter of the preceding year. We now find the
members binding themselves to each other by an oath of secrecy.[559] The
persons who formed this confederacy were the governors of the
provinces, the knights of the Golden Fleece, and, in short, most of the
aristocracy of any consideration in the country. It seemed impossible
that any minister could stand against such a coalition, resting,
moreover, on the sympathies of the people. This formidable association,
seeing that all attempts to work on the cardinal were ineffectual,
resolved at length to apply directly to the king for his removal. They
stated that, knowing the heavy cares which pressed on his majesty, they
had long dissembled and kept silence, rather than aggravate these cares
by their complaints. If they now broke this silence, it was from a sense
of duty to the king, and to save the country from ruin. They enlarged on
the lamentable condition of affairs, which, without specifying any
particular charges, they imputed altogether to the cardinal, or rather
to the position in which he stood in reference to the nation. It was
impossible, they said, that the business of the country could prosper,
where the minister who directed it was held in such general detestation
by the people. They earnestly implored the king to take immediate
measures for removing an evil which menaced the speedy ruin of the land.
And they concluded with begging that they might be allowed to resign
their seats in the council of state, where, in the existing state of
affairs, their presence could be of no service.--This letter, dated the
eleventh of March, 1563, was signed, on behalf of the coalition, by
three lords who had places in the council of state,--the prince of
Orange, Count Egmont, and Count Hoorne.[560]

The last nobleman was of an ancient and most honorable lineage. He held
the high office of admiral of the Netherlands, and had been governor
both of Zütphen and of Gueldres. He accompanied Philip to Spain, and
during his absence the province of Gueldres was transferred to another,
Count Megen, for which Hoorne considered that he was indebted to the
good offices of the cardinal. On his return to his own country, he at
once enrolled himself in the ranks of the opposition. He was a man of
indisputable bravery, of a quick and impatient temper; one, on the
whole, who seems to have been less indebted for his celebrity to his
character, than to the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed.

On the day previous to this despatch of the nobles, we find a letter to
the king from Granvelle, who does not seem to have been ignorant of what
was doing by the lords. He had expostulated with them, he tells Philip,
on the disloyalty of their conduct in thus banding against the
government,--a proceeding which in other times might have subjected them
to a legal prosecution.[561] He mentions no one by name except Egmont,
whom he commends as more tractable and open to reason than his
confederates. He was led away by evil counsellors, and Granvelle
expresses the hope that he will one day open his eyes to his errors, and
return to his allegiance.

[Sidenote: LEAGUE AGAINST GRANVELLE.]

It is difficult to conceive the detestation, he goes on to say, in which
the Spaniards are held by the nation. The Spaniards only, it was
everywhere said, were regarded by the court of Madrid as the lawful
children; the Flemings, as illegitimate.[562] It was necessary to do
away this impression to place the Flemings on the same footing with the
Spaniards; to give them lucrative appointments, for they greatly needed
them, in Spain or in Italy; and it might not be amiss to bestow the
viceroyalty of Sicily on the prince of Orange.--Thus, by the same act,
the politic minister would both reward his rivals and remove them from
the country. But he greatly misunderstood the character of William, if
he thought in this way to buy him off from the opposition.

It was four months before the confederates received an answer; during
which time affairs continued to wear the same gloomy aspect as before.
At length came the long-expected epistle from the monarch, dated on the
sixth of June. It was a brief one. Philip thanked the lords for their
zeal and devotion to his service. After well considering the matter,
however, he had not found any specific ground of complaint alleged, to
account for the advice given him to part with his minister. The king
hoped before long to visit the Low Countries in person. Meanwhile, he
should be glad to see any one of the nobles in Spain, to learn from him
the whole state of the affair; as it was not his wont to condemn his
ministers without knowing the grounds on which they were accused.[563]

The fact that the lords had not specified any particular subject of
complaint against the cardinal gave the king an obvious advantage in the
correspondence. It seemed to be too much to expect his immediate
dismissal of the minister, on the vague pretext of his unpopularity,
without a single instance of misconduct being alleged against him. Yet
this was the position in which the enemies of Granvelle necessarily
found themselves. The minister acted by the orders of the king. To have
assailed the minister's acts, therefore, would have been to attack the
king himself. Egmont, some time after this, with even more frankness
than usual, is said to have declared at table to a friend of the
cardinal, that "the blow was aimed not so much at the minister as at the
monarch."[564]

The discontent of the lords at receiving this laconic epistle may be
imagined. They were indignant that so little account should be made of
their representations, and that both they and the country should be
sacrificed to the king's partiality for his minister. The three lords
waited on the regent, and extorted from her a reluctant consent to
assemble the knights of the order, and to confer with them and the other
nobles as to the course to be taken.

It was there decided that the lords should address a second letter, in
the name of the whole body, to Philip, and henceforth should cease to
attend the council of state.[565]

In this letter, which bears the date of July the twenty-ninth, they
express their disappointment that his majesty had not come to a more
definite resolution, when prompt and decisive measures could alone save
the country from ruin. They excuse themselves from visiting Spain in the
critical state of affairs at home. At another time, and for any other
purpose, did the king desire it, they would willingly do so. But it was
not their design to appear as accusers, and institute a process against
the minister. They had hoped their own word in such an affair would have
sufficed with his majesty. It was not the question whether the minister
was to be condemned, but whether he was to be removed from an office for
which he was in no respect qualified.[566] They had hoped their
attachment and tried fidelity to the crown would have made it
superfluous for them to go into a specification of charges. These,
indeed, could be easily made, but the discontent and disorder which now
reigned throughout the country were sufficient evidence of the
minister's incapacity.[567]

They stated that they had acquainted the regent with their intention to
absent themselves in future from the council, where their presence could
be no longer useful; and they trusted this would receive his majesty's
sanction. They expressed their determination loyally and truly to
discharge every trust reposed in them by the government; and they
concluded by apologizing for the homely language of their epistle,--for
they were no haranguers or orators, but men accustomed to act rather
than to talk, as was suited to persons of their quality.[568]--This last
shaft was doubtless aimed at the cardinal.--The letter was signed by the
same triumvirate as the former. The abstract here given does no justice
to the document, which is of considerable length, and carefully written.
The language is that of men who to the habitual exercise of authority
united a feeling of self-respect, which challenged the respect of their
opponents. Such were not the men to be cajoled or easily intimidated. It
was the first time that Philip had been addressed in this lofty tone by
his great vassals. It should have opened his eyes to the condition and
the character of his subjects in the Netherlands.

The coalition drew up, at the same time, an elaborate "remonstrance,"
which they presented to Margaret. In it they set forth the various
disorders of the country, especially those growing out of the state of
religion and the embarrassment of the finances. The only remedy for
these evils is to be found in a meeting of the states-general. The
king's prohibition of this measure must have proceeded, no doubt, from
the evil counsels of persons hostile to the true interests of the
nation. As their services can be of little use while they are thus
debarred from a resort to their true and only remedy in their
embarrassments, they trust the regent will not take it amiss, that, so
long as the present policy is pursued, they decline to take their seats
in the council of state, to be merely shadows there, as they have been
for the last four years.[569]

[Sidenote: MARGARET DESIRES HIS REMOVAL.]

From this period the malecontent lords no more appeared in council. The
perplexity of Margaret was great. Thus abandoned by the nobles in whom
the country had the greatest confidence, she was left alone, as it were,
with the man whom the country held in the greatest abhorrence. She had
long seen with alarm the storm gathering round the devoted head of the
minister. To attempt alone to uphold his falling fortunes would be
probably to bury herself in their ruins. In her extremity, she appealed
to the confederates, and, since she could not divide them, endeavored to
divert them from their opposition. They, on the other hand, besought
the regent no longer to connect herself with the desperate cause of a
minister so odious to the country. Possibly they infused into her mind
some suspicions of the subordinate part she was made to play, through
the overweening ambition of the cardinal. At all events, an obvious
change took place in her conduct, and while she deferred less and less
to Granvelle, she entered into more friendly relations with his enemies.
This was especially the case with Egmont, whose frank and courteous
hearing and loyal disposition seem to have won greatly on the esteem of
the duchess.

Satisfied, at last, that it would be impracticable to maintain the
government much longer on its present basis, Margaret resolved to write
to her brother on the subject, and at the same time to send her
confidential secretary, Armenteros, to Spain, to acquaint the king with
the precise state of affairs in the Netherlands.[570]

After enlarging on the disorders and difficulties of the country, the
duchess came to the quarrel between the cardinal and the nobles. She had
made every effort to reconcile the parties; but that was impossible. She
was fully sensible of the merits of Granvelle, his high capacity, his
experience in public affairs, his devotion to the interests both of the
king and of religion.[571] But, on the other hand, to maintain him in
the Netherlands, in opposition to the will of the nobles, was to expose
the country, not merely to great embarrassments, but to the danger of
insurrection.[572] The obligations of the high place which she occupied
compelled her to lay the true state of the case before the king, and he
would determine the course to be pursued.--With this letter, bearing the
date of August twelfth, and fortified with ample instructions from the
duchess, Armenteros was forthwith despatched on his mission to Spain.

It was not long before the state of feeling in the cabinet of Brussels
was known, or at least surmised, throughout the country. It was the
interest of some of the parties that it should not be kept secret. The
cardinal, thus abandoned by his friends, became a more conspicuous mark
for the shafts of his enemies. Libels, satires, pasquinades, were
launched against him from every quarter. Such fugitive pieces, like the
insect which dies when it has left its sting, usually perish with the
occasion that gives them birth. But some have survived to the present
day, or at least were in existence at the close of the last century, and
are much commended by a critic for the merits of their literary
execution.[573]

It was the custom, at the period of our narrative, for the young people
to meet in the towns and villages, and celebrate what were called
"academic games," consisting of rhetorical discussions on the various
topics of the day, sometimes of a theological or a political character.
Public affairs furnished a fruitful theme at this crisis; and the
cardinal, in particular, was often roughly handled. It was in vain the
government tried to curb this licence. It only served to stimulate the
disputants to new displays of raillery and ridicule.[574]

Granvelle, it will be readily believed, was not slow to perceive his
loss of credit with the regent, and the more intimate relations into
which she had entered with his enemies. But whatever he may have felt,
he was too proud or too politic to betray his mortification to the
duchess. Thus discredited by all but an insignificant party, who were
branded as the "Cardinalists," losing influence daily with the regent,
at open war with the nobles, and hated by the people, never was there a
minister in so forlorn a situation, or one who was able to maintain his
post a day in such circumstances. Yet Granvelle did not lose heart; as
others failed him, he relied the more on himself; and the courage which
he displayed, when thus left alone, as it were, to face the anger of the
nation, might have well commanded the respect of his enemies. He made no
mean concession to secure the support of the nobles, or to recover the
favor of the regent. He did not shrink from the dangers or the
responsibilities of his station; though the latter, at least, bore
heavily on him. Speaking of the incessant pressure of his cares, he
writes to his correspondent, Perez, "My hairs have turned so white you
would not recognize me."[575] He was then but forty-six. On one
occasion, indeed, we do find him telling the king, that, "if his majesty
does not soon come to the Netherlands, he must withdraw from them."[576]
This seems to have been a sudden burst of feeling, as it was a solitary
one, forced from him by the extremity of his situation. It was much more
in character that he wrote afterwards to the secretary, Perez: "I am so
beset with dangers on every side, that most people give me up for lost.
But I mean to live as long, by the grace of God, as I can; and if they
do take away my life, I trust they will not gain everything for all
that."[577] He nowhere intimates a wish to be recalled. Nor would his
ambition allow him to resign the helm; but the fiercer the tempest
raged, the more closely did he cling to the wreck of his fortunes.

The arrival of Armenteros with the despatches, and the tidings that he
brought, caused a great sensation in the court of Madrid. "We are on the
eve of a terrible conflagration," writes one of the secretaries of
Philip; "and they greatly err who think it will pass away as formerly."
He expresses the wish that Granvelle would retire from the country,
where, he predicts, they would soon wish his return. "But ambition," he
adds, "and the point of honor are alike opposed to this. Nor does the
king desire it."[578]

Yet it was not easy to say what the king did desire,--certainly not what
course he would pursue. He felt a natural reluctance to abandon the
minister, whose greatest error seemed to be that of too implicit an
obedience to his master's commands. He declared he would rather risk the
loss of the Netherlands than abandon him.[579] Yet how was that minister
to be maintained in his place, in opposition to the will of the nation?
In this perplexity, Philip applied for counsel to the man in whom he
most confided,--the duke of Alva; the very worst counsellor possible in
the present emergency.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S LETTER TO GRANVELLE.]

The duke's answer was eminently characteristic of the man. "When I read
the letters of these lords," he says, "I am so filled with rage, that,
did I not make an effort to suppress it, my language would appear to you
that of a madman."[580] After this temperate exordium, he recommends the
king on no account to remove Granvelle from the administration of the
Netherlands. "It is a thing of course," he says, "that the cardinal
should be the first victim. A rebellion against the prince naturally
begins with an attack on his ministers. It would be better," he
continues, "if all could be brought at once to summary justice. Since
that cannot be, it may be best to divide the nobles; to win over Egmont
and those who follow him by favors; to show displeasure to those who are
the least offenders. For the greater ones, who deserve to lose their
heads, your majesty will do well to dissemble, until you can give them
their deserts."[581]

Part of this advice the king accepted; for to dissemble did no violence
to his nature. But the more he reflected on the matter, the more he was
satisfied that it would be impossible to retain the obnoxious minister
in his place. Yet when he had come to this decision, he still shrunk
from announcing it. Months passed, and yet Armenteros, who was to carry
back the royal despatches, was still detained at Madrid. It seemed as if
Philip here, as on other occasions of less moment, was prepared to leave
events to take their own course, rather than direct them himself.

Early in January, 1564, the duchess of Parma admonished her brother that
the lords chafed much under his long silence. It was a common opinion,
she said, that he cared little for Flanders, and that he was under the
influence of evil counsellors, who would persuade him to deal with the
country as a conquered province. She besought him to answer the letter
of the nobles, and especially to write in affectionate terms to Count
Egmont, who well deserved this for the zeal he had always shown for his
sovereign's interests.[582]

One is struck with the tone in which the regent here speaks of one of
the leaders of the opposition, so little in unison with her former
language. It shows how completely she was now under their influence. In
truth, however, we see constantly, both in her letters and those of the
cardinal, a more friendly tone of feeling towards Egmont than to either
of his associates. On the score of orthodoxy in matters of religion he
was unimpeachable. His cordial manners, his free and genial temper,
secured the sympathy of all with whom he came in contact. It was a
common opinion, that it would not be difficult to detach him from the
party of malecontents with whom his lot was cast. Such were not the
notions entertained of the prince of Orange.

In a letter from Granvelle to Philip, without a date, but written
perhaps about this period,[583] we have portraits, or rather outlines,
of the two great leaders of the opposition, touched with a masterly
hand. Egmont he describes as firm in his faith, loyally disposed, but
under the evil influence of William. It would not be difficult to win
him over by flattery and favors.[584] The prince, on the other hand, is
a cunning and dangerous enemy, of profound views, boundless ambition,
difficult to change, and impossible to control.[585] In the latter
character we see the true leader of the revolution.

Disgusted with the indifference of the king, shown in his
long-protracted silence, the nobles, notwithstanding the regent's
remonstrances, sent orders to their courier, who had been waiting in
Madrid for the royal despatches, to wait no longer, but return without
them to the Netherlands.[586] Fortunately Philip now moved, and at the
close of January, 1564, sent back Armenteros with his instructions to
Brussels. The most important of them was a letter of dismissal to the
cardinal himself. It was very short. "On considering what you write,"
said the king, "I deem it best that you should leave the Low Countries
for some days, and go to Burgundy to see your mother, with the consent
of the duchess of Parma. In this way, both my authority and your own
reputation will be preserved."[587]

It has been a matter of dispute how far the resignation of the cardinal
was voluntary. The recent discovery of this letter of Philip determines
that question.[588] It was by command of the sovereign. Yet that command
was extorted by necessity, and so given as best to save the feelings and
the credit of the minister. Neither party anticipated that Granvelle's
absence would continue for a long time, much less that his dismissal was
final. Even when inditing the letter to the cardinal, Philip cherished
the hope that the necessity for his departure might be avoided
altogether. This appears from the despatches sent at the same time to
the regent.

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S LETTER TO GRANVELLE.]

Shortly after his note to Granvelle, on the nineteenth of February,
Philip wrote an answer to the lords in all the tone of offended
majesty. He expressed his astonishment that they should have been led,
by any motive whatever, to vacate their seats at the council, where he
had placed them.[589] They would not fail to return there at once, and
show that they preferred the public weal to all private
considerations.[590] As for the removal of the minister, since they had
not been pleased to specify any charges against him, the king would
deliberate further before deciding on the matter. Thus, three weeks
after Philip had given the cardinal his dismissal, did he write to his
enemies as if the matter were still in abeyance; hoping, it would seem,
by the haughty tone of authority, to rebuke the spirit of the refractory
nobles, and intimidate them into a compliance with his commands. Should
this policy succeed, the cardinal might still hold the helm of
government.[591]

But Philip had not yet learned that he was dealing with men who had
little of that spirit of subserviency to which he was accustomed in his
Castilian vassals. The peremptory tone of his letter fired the blood of
the Flemish lords, who at once waited on the regent, and announced their
purpose not to reënter the council. The affair was not likely to end
here; and Margaret saw with alarm the commotion that would be raised
when the letter of the king should be laid before the whole body of the
nobles.[592] Fearing some rash step, difficult to be retrieved, she
resolved either that the cardinal should announce his intended
departure, or that she would do so for him. Philip's experiment had
failed. Nothing, therefore, remained but for the minister publicly to
declare, that, as his brother, the late envoy to France, had returned to
Brussels, he had obtained permission from the regent to accompany him on
a visit to their aged mother, whom Granvelle had not seen for fourteen
years.[593]

The news of the minister's resignation and speedy departure spread like
wildfire over the country. The joy was universal; and the wits of the
time redoubled their activity, assailing the fallen minister with
libels, lampoons, and caricatures, without end. One of these
caricatures, thrust into his own hand under the pretence of its being a
petition, represented him as hatching a brood of young bishops, who were
crawling out of their shells. Hovering above might be seen the figure of
the Devil; while these words were profanely made to issue from his
month: "This is my son; hear ye him!"[594]

It was at this time that, at a banquet at which many of the Flemish
nobles were present, the talk fell on the expensive habits of the
aristocracy, especially as shown in the number and dress of their
domestics. It was the custom for them to wear showy and very costly
liveries, intimating by the colors the family to which they belonged.
Granvelle had set an example of this kind of ostentation. It was
proposed to regulate their apparel by a more modest and uniform
standard. The lot fell on Egmont to devise some suitable livery, of the
simple kind used by the Germans. He proposed a dark-gray habit, which,
instead of the _aiguillettes_ commonly suspended from the shoulders,
should have flat pieces of cloth, embroidered with the figure of a head
and a fool's cap. The head was made marvellously like that of the
cardinal, and the cap, being red, was thought to bear much resemblance
to a cardinal's hat. This was enough. The dress was received with
acclamation. The nobles instantly clad their retainers in the new
livery, which had the advantage of greater economy. It became the badge
of party. The tailors of Brussels could not find time to supply their
customers. Instead of being confined to Granvelle, the heads
occasionally bore the features of Arschot, Aremberg, or Viglius, the
cardinal's friends. The duchess at first laughed at the jest, and even
sent some specimens of the embroidery to Philip. But Granvelle looked
more gravely on the matter, declaring it an insult to the government,
and the king interfered to have the device given up. This was not easy,
from the extent to which it had been adopted. But Margaret at length
succeeded in persuading the lords to take another, not personal in its
nature. The substitute was a sheaf of arrows. Even this was found to
have an offensive application, as it intimated the league of the nobles.
It was the origin, it is said, of the device afterwards assumed by the
Seven United Provinces.[595]

[Sidenote: HE LEAVES THE NETHERLANDS.]

On the thirteenth of March, 1564, Granvelle quitted Brussels,--never to
return.[596] "The joy of the nobles at his departure," writes one of the
privy council, "was excessive. They seemed like boys let loose from
school."[597] The three lords, members of the council of state, in a
note to the duchess, declared that they were ready to resume their
places at the board; with the understanding, however, that they should
retire whenever the minister returned.[598] Granvelle had given out that
his absence would be of no long duration. The regent wrote to her
brother in warm commendation of the lords. It would not do for Granvelle
ever to return. She was assured by the nobles, if he did return, he
would risk the loss of his life, and the king the loss of the
Netherlands.[599]

The three lords wrote each to Philip, informing him that they had
reëntered the council, and making the most earnest protestations of
loyalty. Philip, on his part, graciously replied to each, and in
particular to the prince of Orange, who had intimated that slanderous
reports respecting himself had found their way to the royal ear. The
king declared "he never could doubt for a moment that William would
continue to show the same zeal in his service that he had always done;
and that no one should be allowed to cast a reproach on a person of his
quality, and one whom Philip knew so thoroughly."[600] It might almost
seem that a double meaning lurked under this smooth language. But
whatever may have been felt, no distrust was exhibited on either side.
To those who looked on the surface only,--and they were a hundred to
one,--it seemed as if the dismissal of the cardinal had removed all
difficulties; and they now confidently relied on a state of permanent
tranquillity. But there were others whose eyes looked deeper than the
calm sunshine that lay upon the surface; who saw, more distinctly than
when the waters were ruffled by the tempest, the rocks beneath, on which
the vessel of state was afterward to be wrecked.

The cardinal, on leaving the Low Countries, retired to his patrimonial
estate at Besançon,--embellished with all that wealth and a cultivated
taste could supply. In this pleasant retreat the discomfited statesman
found a solace in those pursuits which in earlier, perhaps happier, days
had engaged his attention.[601] He had particularly a turn for the
physical sciences. But he was fond of letters, and in all his tastes
showed the fruits of a liberal culture. He surrounded himself with
scholars and artists, and took a lively interest in their pursuits.
Justus Lipsius, afterwards so celebrated, was his secretary. He gave
encouragement to Plantin, who rivalled in Flanders the fame of the Aldi
in Venice. His generous patronage was readily extended to genius, in
whatever form it was displayed. It is some proof how widely extended,
that, in the course of his life, he is said to have received more than a
hundred dedications. Though greedy of wealth, it was not to hoard it,
and his large revenues were liberally dispensed in the foundation of
museums, colleges, and public libraries. Besançon, the place of his
residence, did not profit least by this munificence.[602]

Such is the portrait which historians have given to us of the minister
in his retirement. His own letters show that, with these sources of
enjoyment, he did not altogether disdain others of a less spiritual
character. A letter to one of the regent's secretaries, written soon
after the cardinal's arrival at Besançon, concludes in the following
manner: "I know that God will recompense men according to their deserts.
I have confidence that he will aid me; and that I shall yet be able to
draw profit from what my enemies designed for my ruin. This is my
philosophy, with which I endeavor to live as joyously as I can, laughing
at the world, its calumnies and its passions."[603]

With all this happy mixture of the Epicurean and the Stoic, the
philosophic statesman did not so contentedly submit to his fate as to
forego the hope of seeing himself soon reinstated in authority in the
Netherlands. "In the course of two months," he writes, "you may expect
to see me there."[604] He kept up an active correspondence with the
friends whom he had left in Brussels, and furnished the results of the
information thus obtained, with his own commentaries, to the court at
Madrid. His counsel was courted, and greatly considered, by Philip; so
that from the shades of his retirement the banished minister was still
thought to exercise an important influence on the destiny of Flanders.

       *       *       *       *       *

     A singular history is attached to the papers of Granvelle. That
     minister resembled his master, Philip the Second, in the fertility
     of his epistolary vein. That the king had a passion for writing,
     notwithstanding he could throw the burden of the correspondence,
     when it suited him, on the other party, is proved by the quantity
     of letters he left behind him. The example of the monarch seems to
     have had its influence on his courtiers; and no reign of that time
     is illustrated by a greater amount of written materials from the
     hands of the principal actors in it. Far from a poverty of
     materials, therefore, the historian has much more reason to
     complain of an _embarras de richesses_.

[Sidenote: THE GRANVELLE PAPERS.]

     Granvelle filled the highest posts in different parts of the
     Spanish empire; and in each of these--in the Netherlands, where he
     was minister, in Naples, where he was viceroy, in Spain, where he
     took the lead in the cabinet, and in Besançon, whither he retired
     from public life--he left ample memorials under his own hand of his
     residence there. This was particularly the case with Besançon, his
     native town, and the favorite residence to which he turned, as he
     tells us, from the turmoil of office to enjoy the sweets of
     privacy,--yet not, in truth, so sweet to him as the stormy career
     of the statesman, to judge from the tenacity with which he clung to
     office.

     The cardinal made his library at Besançon the depository, not
     merely of his own letters, but of such as were addressed to him. He
     preserved them all, however humble the sources whence they came,
     and, like Philip, he was in the habit of jotting down his own
     reflections in the margin. As Granvelle's personal and political
     relations connected him with the most important men of his time, we
     may well believe that the mass of correspondence which he gathered
     together was immense. Unfortunately, at his death, instead of
     bequeathing his manuscripts to some public body, who might have
     been responsible for the care of them, he left them to heirs who
     were altogether ignorant of their value. In the course of time the
     manuscripts found their way to the garret, where they soon came to
     be regarded as little better than waste paper. They were pilfered
     by the children and domestics, and a considerable quantity was sent
     off to a neighboring grocer, who soon converted the correspondence
     of the great statesman into wrapping-paper for his spices.

     From this ignominious fate the residue of the collection was
     happily rescued by the generous exertions of the Abbé Boissot. This
     excellent and learned man was the head of the Benedictines of St.
     Vincent in Besançon, of which town he was himself a native. He was
     acquainted with the condition of the Granvelle papers, and
     comprehended their importance. In the course of eighty years, which
     had elapsed since the cardinal's death, his manuscripts had come to
     be distributed among several heirs, some of whom consented to
     transfer their property gratuitously to the Abbé Boissot, while he
     purchased that of others. In this way he at length succeeded in
     gathering together all that survived of the large collection; and
     he made it the great business of his subsequent life to study its
     contents and arrange the chaotic mass of papers with reference to
     their subjects. To complete his labors, he caused the manuscripts
     thus arranged to be bound, in eighty-two volumes, folio, thus
     placing them in that permanent form which might best secure them
     against future accident.

     The abbé did not live to publish to the world an account of his
     collection, which at his death passed by his will to his brethren
     of the abbey of St. Vincent, on condition that it should be for
     ever open for the use of the town of Besançon. It may seem strange
     that, notwithstanding the existence of this valuable body of
     original documents was known to scholars, they should so rarely
     have resorted to it for instruction. Its secluded situation, in the
     heart of a remote province, was doubtless regarded as a serious
     obstacle by the historical inquirer, in an age when the public took
     things too readily on trust to be very solicitous about authentic
     sources of information. It is more strange that Boissot's
     Benedictine brethren should have shown themselves so insensible to
     the treasures under their own roof. One of their body, Dom Prosper
     l'Evesque, did indeed profit by the Boissot collection to give to
     the world his Mémoires de Granvelle, a work in two volumes,
     duodecimo, which, notwithstanding the materials at the writer's
     command, contain little of any worth, unless it be an occasional
     extract from Granvelle's own correspondence.

     At length, in 1834, the subject drew the attention of M. Guizot,
     then Minister of Public Instruction in France. By his direction a
     commission of five scholars was instituted, with the learned Weiss
     at its head, for the purpose of examining the Granvelle papers,
     with a view to their immediate publication. The work was performed
     in a prompt and accurate manner, that must have satisfied its
     enlightened projector. In 1839 the whole series of papers had been
     subjected to a careful analysis, and the portion selected that was
     deemed proper for publication. The first volume appeared in 1841;
     and the president of the commission, M. Weiss, expressed in his
     preface the confident hope that in the course of 1843 the remaining
     papers would all be given to the press. But these anticipations
     have not been realized. In 1854 only nine volumes had appeared. How
     far the publication has since advanced I am ignorant.

     The Papiers d'Etat, besides Granvelle's own letters, contain a
     large amount of historical materials, such as official documents,
     state papers, and diplomatic correspondence of foreign
     ministers,--that of Renard, for example, so often quoted in these
     pages. There are, besides, numerous letters both of Philip and of
     Charles the Fifth, for the earlier volumes embrace the times of the
     emperor.--The minister's own correspondence is not the least
     valuable part of the collection. Granvelle stood so high in the
     confidence of his sovereign, that, when not intrusted himself with
     the conduct of affairs, ha was constantly consulted by the king as
     to the best mode of conducting them. With a different fate from
     that of most ministers, he retained his influence when he had lost
     his place. Thus there were few transactions of any moment in which
     he was not called on directly or indirectly to take part. And his
     letters furnish a clew for conducting the historical student
     through more than one intricate negotiation, by revealing the true
     motives of the parties who were engaged in it.

     Granvelle was in such intimate relations with the most eminent
     persons of the time, that his correspondence becomes in some sort
     the mirror of the age, reflecting the state of opinion on the
     leading topics of the day. For the same reason it is replete with
     matters of personal as well as political interest; while the range
     of its application, far from being confined to Spain, embraces most
     of the states of Europe with which Spain held intercourse. The
     French government has done good service by the publication of a
     work which contains so much for the illustration of the history of
     the sixteenth century. M. Weiss, the editor, has conducted his
     labors on the true principles by which an editor should be guided;
     and, far from magnifying his office, and unseasonably obtruding
     himself on the reader's attention, he has sought only to explain
     what is obscure in the text, and to give such occasional notices of
     the writers as may enable the reader to understand their
     correspondence.




CHAPTER VIII.

CHANGES DEMANDED BY THE LORDS.

Policy of Philip.--Ascendancy of the Nobles.--The Regent's
Embarrassments.--Egmont sent to Spain.

1564, 1565.


We have now arrived at an epoch in the history of the revolution, when,
the spirit of the nation having been fully roused, the king had been
compelled to withdraw his unpopular minister, and to intrust the reins
of government to the hands of the nobles. Before proceeding further, it
will be well to take a brief survey of the ground, that we may the
better comprehend the relations in which the parties stood to each other
at the commencement of the contest.

[Sidenote: ASCENDANCY OF THE NOBLES.]

In a letter to his sister, the regent, written some two years after this
period, Philip says: "I have never had any other object in view than the
good of my subjects. In all that I have done, I have but trod in the
footsteps of my father, under whom the people of the Netherlands must
admit they lived contented and happy. As to the Inquisition, whatever
people may say of it, I have never attempted anything new. With regard
to the edicts, I have been always resolved to live and die in the
Catholic faith. I could not be content to have my subjects do otherwise.
Yet I see not how this can be compassed without punishing the
transgressors. God knows how willingly I would avoid shedding a drop of
Christian blood,--above all, that of my people in the Netherlands; and
I should esteem it one of the happiest circumstances of my reign to be
spared this necessity."[605]

Whatever we may think of the sensibility of Philip, or of his tenderness
for his Flemish subjects in particular, we cannot deny that the policy
he had hitherto pursued was substantially that of his father. Yet his
father lived beloved, and died lamented, by the Flemings; while Philip's
course, from the very first, had encountered only odium and opposition.
A little reflection will show us the reasons of these different results.

Both Charles and Philip came forward as the great champions of
Catholicism. But the emperor's zeal was so far tempered by reason, that
it could accommodate itself to circumstances. He showed this on more
than one occasion, both in Germany and in Flanders. Philip, on the other
hand, admitted of no compromise. He was the inexorable foe of heresy.
Persecution was his only remedy, and the Inquisition the weapon on which
he relied. His first act on setting foot on his native shore was to
assist at an _auto da fé_. This proclaimed his purpose to the world, and
associated his name indelibly with that of the terrible tribunal.

The free people of the Netherlands felt the same dread of the
Inquisition that a free and enlightened people of our own day might be
supposed to feel. They looked with gloomy apprehension to the
unspeakable misery it was to bring to their firesides, and the
desolation and ruin to their country. Everything that could in any way
be connected with it took the dismal coloring of their fears. The edicts
of Charles the Fifth, written in blood, became yet more formidable, as
declaring the penalties to be inflicted by this tribunal. Even the
erection of the bishoprics, so necessary a measure, was regarded with
distrust on account of the inquisitorial powers which of old were vested
in the bishops, thus seeming to give additional strength to the arm of
persecution. The popular feeling was nourished by every new convert to
the Protestant faith, as well as by those who, from views of their own,
were willing to fan the flame of rebellion.

Another reason why Philip's policy met with greater opposition than that
of his predecessor was the change in the condition of the people
themselves. Under the general relaxation of the law, or rather of its
execution, in the latter days of Charles the Fifth, the number of the
Reformers had greatly multiplied. Calvinism predominated in Luxemburg,
Artois, Flanders, and the states lying nearest to France. Holland,
Zealand, and the North, were the chosen abode of the Anabaptists. The
Lutherans swarmed in the districts bordering on Germany; while Antwerp,
the commercial capital of Brabant, and the great mart of all nations,
was filled with sectaries of every description. Even the Jew, the butt
of persecution in the Middle Ages, is said to have lived there
unmolested. For such a state of things, it is clear that very different
legislation was demanded than for that which existed under Charles the
Fifth. It was one thing to eradicate a few noxious weeds, and quite
another to crush the sturdy growth of heresy, which in every direction
now covered the land.

A further reason for the aversion to Philip, and one that cannot be too
often repeated, was that he was a foreigner. Charles was a native
Fleming; and much may be forgiven in a countryman. But Philip was a
Spaniard,--one of a nation held in greatest aversion by the men of the
Netherlands. It should clearly have been his policy, therefore, to cover
up this defect in the eyes of the inhabitants by consulting their
national prejudices, and by a show, at least, of confidence in their
leaders. Far from this, Philip began with placing a Spanish army on
their borders in time of peace. The administration he committed to the
hands of a foreigner. And while he thus outraged the national feeling at
home, it was remarked that into the royal council at Madrid, where the
affairs of the Low Countries, as of the other provinces, were settled in
the last resort, not a Fleming was admitted.[606] The public murmured.
The nobles remonstrated and resisted. Philip was obliged to retrace his
steps. He made first one concession, then another. He recalled his
troops, removed his minister. The nobles triumphed, and the
administration of the country passed into their hands. People thought
the troubles were at an end. They were but begun. Nothing had been done
towards the solution of the great problem of the rights of conscience.
On this the king and the country were at issue as much as ever. All that
had been done had only cleared the way to the free discussion of this
question, and to the bloody contest that was to follow.

On the departure of Granvelle, the discontented lords, as we have seen,
again took their seats in the council of state. They gave the most
earnest assurances of loyalty to the king, and seemed as if desirous to
make amends for the past by an extraordinary devotion to public
business. Margaret received these advances in the spirit in which they
were made; and the confidence which she had formerly bestowed on
Granvelle, she now transferred in full measure to his successful
rivals.[607]

It is amusing to read her letters at this period, and to compare them
with those which she wrote to Philip the year preceding. In the new
coloring given to the portraits it is hard to recognize a single
individual. She cannot speak too highly of the services of the
lords,--of the prince of Orange, and Egmont above all,--of their
devotion to the public weal and the interests of the sovereign. She begs
her brother again and again to testify his own satisfaction by the most
gracious letters to those nobles that he can write.[608] The suggestion
seems to have met with little favor from Philip. No language, however,
is quite strong enough to express Margaret's disgust with the character
and conduct of her former minister, Granvelle. It is he that has so long
stood betwixt the monarch and the love of the people. She cannot feel
easy that he should still remain so near the Netherlands. He should be
sent to Rome.[609] She distrusts his influence, even now, over the
cabinet at Madrid. He is perpetually talking, she understands, of the
probability of his speedy return to Brussels. The rumor of this causes
great uneasiness in the country. Should he be permitted to return, it
would undoubtedly be the signal for an insurrection.[610]--It is clear
the duchess had sorely suffered from the tyranny of Granvelle.[611]

[Sidenote: ASCENDANCY OF THE NOBLES.]

But notwithstanding the perfect harmony which subsisted between Margaret
and the principal lords, it was soon seen that the wheels of government
were not destined to run on too smoothly. Although the cardinal was
gone, there still remained a faction of _Cardinalists_, who represented
his opinions, and who, if few in number, made themselves formidable by
the strength of their opposition. At the head of these were the viscount
de Barlaimont and the President Viglius.

The former, head of the council of finance, was a Flemish noble of the
first class,--yet more remarkable for his character than for his rank.
He was a man of unimpeachable integrity, stanch in his loyalty both to
the Church and to the crown, with a resolute spirit not to be shaken,
for it rested on principle.

His coadjutor, Viglius, was an eminent jurist, an able writer, a
sagacious statesman. He had been much employed by the emperor in public
affairs, which he managed with a degree of caution that amounted almost
to timidity. He was the personal friend of Granvelle, had adopted his
views, and carried on with him a constant correspondence, which is among
our best sources of information. He was frugal and moderate in his
habits, not provoking criticism, like that minister, by his ostentation
and irregularities of life. But he was nearly as formidable, from the
official powers with which he was clothed, and the dogged tenacity with
which he clung to his purposes. He filled the high office of president
both of the privy council and of the council of state, and was also
keeper of the great seal. It was thus obviously in his power to oppose a
great check to the proceedings of the opposite party. That he did thus
often thwart them is attested by the reiterated complaints of the
duchess. "The president," she tells her brother, "makes me endure the
pains of hell by the manner in which he traverses my measures."[612] His
real object, like that of Granvelle and of their followers, she says on
another occasion, is to throw the country into disorder. They would find
their account in fishing in the troubled waters. They dread a state of
tranquillity, which would afford opportunity for exposing their corrupt
practices in the government.[613]

To these general charges of delinquency the duchess added others, of a
more vulgar peculation. Viglius, who had taken priest's orders for the
purpose, was provost of the church of St. Bavon. Margaret openly accused
him of purloining the costly tapestries, the plate, the linen, the
jewels, and even considerable sums of money belonging to the
church.[614] She insisted on the impropriety of allowing such a man to
hold office under the government.

Nor was the president silent on his part, and in his correspondence with
Granvelle he retorts similar accusations in full measure on his enemies.
He roundly taxes the great nobles with simony and extortion. Offices,
both ecclesiastical and secular, were put up for sale in a shameless
manner, and disposed of to the highest bidder. It was in this way that
the bankrupt nobles paid their debts, by bestowing vacant places on
their creditors. Nor are the regent's hands, he intimates, altogether
clean from the stain of these transactions.[615] He accuses the lords,
moreover, of using their authority to interfere perpetually with the
course of justice. They had acquired an unbounded ascendancy over
Margaret, and treated her with a deference which, he adds, "is ever sure
to captivate the sex."[616] She was more especially under the influence
of her secretary, Armenteros, a creature of the nobles, who profited by
his position to fill his own coffers at the expense of the
exchequer.[617] For himself, he is in such disgrace for his resistance
to these disloyal proceedings, that the duchess excludes him as far as
possible from the management of affairs, and treats him with undisguised
coldness. Nothing but the desire to do his duty would induce him to
remain a day longer in a post like this, from which his only wish is
that his sovereign would release him.[618]

The president seems never to have written directly to Philip. It would
only expose him, he said, to the suspicions and the cavils of his
enemies. The wary statesman took warning by the fate of Granvelle. But
as his letters to the banished minister were all forwarded to Philip,
the monarch, with the despatches of his sister before him, had the means
of contemplating both sides of the picture, and of seeing that, to
whichever party he intrusted the government, the interests of the
country were little likely to be served. Had it been his father, the
emperor, who was on the throne, such knowledge would not have been in
his possession four and twenty hours, before he would have been on his
way to the Netherlands. But Philip was of a more sluggish temper. He was
capable, indeed, of much passive exertion,--of incredible toil in the
cabinet,--and from his palace, as was said, would have given law to
Christendom. But rather than encounter the difficulties of a voyage, he
was willing, it appears, to risk the loss of the finest of his
provinces.[619]

[Sidenote: ASCENDANCY OF THE NOBLES.]

Yet he wrote to his sister to encourage her with the prospect of his
visiting the country as soon as he could be released from a war in which
he was engaged with the Turks. He invited her, at the same time, to
send him further particulars of the misconduct of Viglius, and expressed
the hope that some means might be found of silencing his
opposition.[620]

It is not easy at this day to strike the balance between the hostile
parties, so as to decide on the justice of these mutual accusations, and
to assign to each the proper share of responsibility for the
mismanagement of the government. That it was mismanaged is certain. That
offices were put up for sale is undeniable; for the duchess frankly
discusses the expediency of it, in a letter to her brother. This, at
least, absolves the act from the imputation of secrecy. The conflict of
the council of state with the two other councils often led to disorders,
since the decrees passed by the privy council, which had cognizance of
matters of justice, were frequently frustrated by the amnesties and
pardons granted by the council of state. To remedy this, the nobles
contended that it was necessary to subject the decrees of the other
councils to the revision of the council of state, and, in a word, to
concentrate in this last body the whole authority of government.[621]
The council of state, composed chiefly of the great aristocracy, looked
down with contempt on those subordinate councils, made up for the most
part of men of humbler condition, pledged by their elevation to office
to maintain the interests of the crown. They would have placed the
administration of the country in the hands of an oligarchy, made up of
the great Flemish nobles. This would be to break up that system of
distribution into separate departments established by Charles the Fifth
for the more perfect despatch of business. It would, in short, be such a
change in the constitution of the country as would of itself amount to a
revolution.

In the state of things above described, the Reformation gained rapidly
in the country. The nobles generally, as has been already intimated,
were loyal to the Roman Catholic Church. Many of the younger nobility,
however, who had been educated at Geneva, returned tinctured with
heretical doctrines from the school of Calvin.[622] But whether Catholic
or Protestant, the Flemish aristocracy looked with distrust on the
system of persecution, and held the Inquisition in the same abhorrence
as did the great body of the people. It was fortunate for the
Reformation in the Netherlands, that at its outset it received the
support even of the Catholics, who resisted the Inquisition as an
outrage on their political liberties.

Under the lax administration of the edicts, exiles who had fled abroad
from persecution now returned to Flanders. Calvinist ministers and
refugees from France crossed the borders, and busied themselves with the
work of proselytism. Seditious pamphlets were circulated, calling on the
regent to confiscate the ecclesiastical revenues, and apply them to the
use of the state, as had been done in England.[623] The Inquisition
became an object of contempt, almost as much as of hatred. Two of the
principal functionaries wrote to Philip, that, without further support,
they could be of no use in a situation which exposed them only to
derision and danger.[624] At Bruges and at Brussels the mob entered the
prisons, and released the prisoners. A more flagrant violation of
justice occurred at Antwerp. A converted friar, named Fabricius, who had
been active in preaching and propagating the new doctrines, was tried
and sentenced to the stake. On the way to execution, the people called
out to him, from the balconies and the doorways, to "take courage, and
endure manfully to the last."[625] When the victim was bound to the
stake, and the pile was kindled, the mob discharged such a volley of
stones at the officers as speedily put them to flight. But the unhappy
man, though unscathed by the fire, was stabbed to the heart by the
executioner, who made his escape in the tumult. The next morning,
placards written in blood were found affixed to the public buildings,
threatening vengeance on all who had any part in the execution of
Fabricius; and one of the witnesses against him, a woman, hardly escaped
with life from the hands of the populace.[626]

The report of these proceedings caused a great sensation at Madrid; and
Philip earnestly called on his sister to hunt out and pursue the
offenders. This was not easy, where most, even of those who did not join
in the act, fully shared in the feeling which led to it. Yet Philip
continued to urge the necessity of enforcing the laws for the
preservation of the Faith, as the thing dearest to his heart. He would
sometimes indicate in his letters the name of a suspicious individual,
his usual dress, his habits, and appearance,--descending into details
which may well surprise us, considering the multitude of affairs of a
weightier character that pressed upon his mind.[627] One cannot doubt
that Philip was at heart an inquisitor.

Yet the fires of persecution were not permitted wholly to slumber. The
historian of the Reformation enumerates seventeen who suffered capitally
for their religious opinions in the course of the year 1564.[628] This,
though pitiable, was a small number--if indeed it be the whole
number--compared with the thousands who are said to have perished in the
same space of time in the preceding reign. It was too small to produce
any effect as a persecution, while the sight of the martyr, singing
hymns in the midst of the flames, only kindled a livelier zeal in the
spectators, and a deeper hatred for their oppressors.

[Sidenote: THE REGENT'S EMBARRASSMENTS.]

The finances naturally felt the effects of the general disorder of the
country. The public debt, already large, as we have seen, was now so
much increased, that the yearly deficiency in the revenue, according to
the regent's own statement, amounted to six hundred thousand
florins;[629] and she knew of no way of extricating the country from its
embarrassments, unless the king should come to its assistance. The
convocation of the states-general was insisted on as the only remedy for
these disorders. That body alone, it was contended, was authorized to
vote the requisite subsidies, and to redress the manifold grievances of
the nation.--Yet, in point of fact, its powers had hitherto been little
more than to propose the subsidies for the approbation of the several
provinces, and to _remonstrate_ on the grievances of the nation. To
invest the states-general with the power of _redressing_ these
grievances would bestow on them legislative functions which they had
rarely, if ever, exercised. This would be to change the constitution of
the country, by the new weight it would give to the popular element; a
change which the great lords, who had already the lesser nobles entirely
at their disposal,[630] would probably know well how to turn to
account.[631] Yet Margaret had now so entirely resigned herself to their
influence, that, notwithstanding the obvious consequences of these
measures, she recommended to Philip both to assemble the states-general
and to remodel the council of state;[632]--and this to a monarch more
jealous of his authority than any other prince in Europe!

To add to the existing troubles, orders were received from the court of
Madrid to publish the decrees of the Council of Trent throughout the
Netherlands. That celebrated council had terminated its long session in
1563, with the results that might have been expected,--those of widening
the breach between Protestant and Catholic, and of enlarging, or at
least more firmly establishing, the authority of the pope. One good
result may be mentioned, that of providing for a more strict supervision
of the morals and discipline of the clergy;--a circumstance which caused
the decrees to be in extremely bad odor with that body.

It was hoped that Philip would imitate the example of France, and reject
decrees which thus exalted the power of the pope. Men were led to expect
this the more, from the mortification which the king had lately
experienced from a decision of the pontiff on a question of precedence
between the Castilian and French ambassadors at his court. This delicate
matter, long pending, had been finally determined in favor of France by
Pius the Fifth, who may have thought it more politic to secure a fickle
ally than to reward a firm one. The decision touched Philip to the
quick. He at once withdrew his ambassador from Rome, and refused to
receive an envoy from his holiness.[633] It seemed that a serious
rupture was likely to take place between the parties. But it was not in
the nature of Philip to be long at feud with the court of Rome. In a
letter to the duchess of Parma, dated August 6, 1564, he plainly
intimated that in matters of faith he was willing at all times to
sacrifice his private feelings to the public weal.[634] He subsequently
commanded the decrees of the Council of Trent to be received as law
throughout his dominions, saying that he could make no exception for the
Netherlands, when he made none for Spain.[635]

The promulgation of the decrees was received, as had been anticipated,
with general discontent. The clergy complained of the interference with
their immunities. The men of Brabant stood stoutly on the chartered
rights secured to them by the "_Joyeuse Entrée_". And the people
generally resisted the decrees, from a vague idea of their connection
with the Inquisition; while, as usual when mischief was on foot, they
loudly declaimed against Granvelle as being at the bottom of it.

In this unhappy condition of affairs, it was determined by the council
of state to send some one to Madrid to lay the grievances of the nation
before the king, and to submit to him what in their opinion would be the
most effectual remedy. They were the more induced to this by the
unsatisfactory nature of the royal correspondence. Philip, to the great
discontent of the lords, had scarcely condescended to notice their
letters.[636] Even to Margaret's ample communications he rarely
responded, and when he did, it was in vague and general terms, conveying
little more than the necessity of executing justice and watching over
the purity of the Faith.

The person selected for the unenviable mission to Madrid was Egmont,
whose sentiments of loyalty, and of devotion to the Catholic faith, it
was thought, would recommend him to the king; while his brilliant
reputation, his rank, and his popular manners would find favor with the
court and the people. Egmont himself was the less averse to the mission,
that he had some private suits of his own to urge with the monarch.

This nomination was warmly supported by William, between whom and the
count a perfectly good understanding seems to have subsisted, in spite
of the efforts of the Cardinalists to revive their ancient feelings of
jealousy. Yet these feelings still glowed in the bosoms of the wives of
the two nobles, as was evident from the warmth with which they disputed
the question of precedence with each other. Both were of the highest
rank, and, as there was no umpire to settle the delicate question, it
was finally arranged by the two ladies appearing in public always arm in
arm,--an equality which the haughty dames were careful to maintain, in
spite of the ridiculous embarrassments to which they were occasionally
exposed by narrow passages and doorways.[637] If the question of
precedence had related to character, it would have been easily settled.
The troubles from the misconduct of Anne of Saxony bore as heavily on
the prince, her husband, at this very time, as the troubles of the
state.[638]

[Sidenote: EGMONT SENT TO SPAIN.]

Before Egmont's departure, a meeting of the council of state was called,
to furnish him with the proper instructions. The president, Viglius,
gave it as his opinion, that the mission was superfluous; and that the
great nobles had only to reform their own way of living to bring about
the necessary reforms in the country. Egmont was instructed by the
regent to represent to the king the deplorable condition of the land,
the prostration of public credit, the decay of religion, and the
symptoms of discontent and disloyalty in the people. As the most
effectual remedy for these evils, he was to urge the king to come in
person, and that speedily, to Flanders. "If his majesty does not approve
of this," said Margaret, "impress upon him the necessity of making
further remittances, and of giving me precise instructions as to the
course I am to pursue."[639]

The prince of Orange took part in the discussion with a warmth he had
rarely shown. It was time, he said, that the king should be disabused of
the errors under which he labored with respect to the Netherlands. The
edicts must be mitigated. It was not possible, in the present state of
feeling, either to execute the edicts or to maintain the
Inquisition.[640] The Council of Trent was almost equally odious; nor
could they enforce its decrees in the Netherlands while the countries on
the borders rejected them. The people would no longer endure the
perversion of justice, and the miserable wrangling of the
councils.--This last blow was aimed at the president.--The only remedy
was to enlarge the council of state, and to strengthen its authority.
For his own part, he concluded, he could not understand how any prince
could claim the right of interfering with the consciences of his
subjects in matters of religion.[641]--The impassioned tone of his
eloquence, so contrary to the usually calm manner of William the Silent,
and the boldness with which he avowed his opinions, caused a great
sensation in the assembly.[642] That night was passed by Viglius, who
gives his own account of the matter, in tossing on his bed, painfully
ruminating on his forlorn position in the council, with scarcely one to
support him in the contest which he was compelled to wage, not merely
with the nobles, but with the regent herself. The next morning, while
dressing, he was attacked by a fit of apoplexy, which partially deprived
him of the use of both his speech and his limbs.[643] It was some time
before he could resume his place at the board. This new misfortune
furnished him with a substantial argument for soliciting the king's
permission to retire from office. In this he was warmly seconded by
Margaret, who, while she urged the president's incapacity, nothing
touched by his situation, eagerly pressed her brother to call him to
account for his delinquencies, and especially his embezzlement of the
church property.[644]

Philip, who seems to have shunned any direct intercourse with his
Flemish subjects, had been averse to have Egmont, or any other envoy,
sent to Madrid. On learning that the mission was at length settled, he
wrote to Margaret that he had made up his mind to receive the count
graciously, and to show no discontent with the conduct of the lords.
That the journey, however, was not without its perils, may be inferred
from a singular document that has been preserved to us. It is signed by
a number of Egmont's personal friends, each of whom traced his signature
in his own blood. In this paper the parties pledge their faith, as true
knights and gentlemen, that if any harm be done to Count Egmont during
his absence, they will take ample vengeance on Cardinal Granvelle, or
whoever might be the author of it.[645] The cardinal seems to have been
the personification of evil with the Flemings of every degree. This
instrument, which was deposited with the Countess Egmont, was subscribed
with the names of seven nobles, most of them afterwards conspicuous in
the troubles of the country. One might imagine that such a document was
more likely to alarm than to reassure the wife to whom it was
addressed.[646]

In the beginning of January, Egmont set out on his journey. He was
accompanied for some distance by a party of his friends, who at Cambray
gave him a splendid entertainment. Among those present was the
archbishop of Cambray, a prelate who had made himself unpopular by the
zeal he had shown in the persecution of the Reformers. As the wine-cup
passed freely round, some of the younger guests amused themselves with
frequently pledging the prelate, and endeavoring to draw him into a
greater degree of conviviality than was altogether becoming his station.
As he at length declined their pledges, they began openly to taunt him;
and one of the revellers, irritated by the archbishop's reply, would
have thrown a large silver dish at his head, had not his arm been
arrested by Egmont. Another of the company, however, succeeded in
knocking off the prelate's cap;[647] and a scene of tumult ensued, from
which the archbishop was extricated, not without difficulty, by the more
sober and considerate part of the company. The whole affair--mortifying
in the extreme to Egmont--is characteristic of the country at this
period; when business of the greatest importance was settled at the
banquet, as we often find in the earlier history of the revolution.

[Sidenote: EGMONT SENT TO SPAIN.]

Egmont's reception at Madrid was of the most flattering kind. Philip's
demeanor towards his great vassal was marked by unusual benignity; and
the courtiers, readily taking their cue from their sovereign, vied with
one another in attentions to the man whose prowess might be said to have
won for Spain the great victories of Gravelines and St. Quentin. In
fine, Egmont, whose brilliant exterior and noble bearing gave additional
lustre to his reputation, was the object of general admiration during
his residence of several weeks at Madrid. It seemed as if the court of
Castile was prepared to change its policy, from the flattering
attentions it thus paid to the representative of the Netherlands.

During his stay, Egmont was admitted to several audiences, in which he
exposed to the monarch the evils that beset the country, and the
measures proposed for relieving them. As the two most effectual, he
pressed him to mitigate the edicts, and to reorganize the council of
state.[648] Philip listened with much benignity to these suggestions of
the Flemish noble; and if he did not acquiesce, he gave no intimation to
the contrary, except by assuring the count of his determination to
maintain the integrity of the Catholic faith. To Egmont personally he
showed the greatest indulgence, and the count's private suits sped as
favorably as he could have expected. But a remarkable anecdote proves
that Philip, at this very time, with all this gracious demeanor, had not
receded one step from the ground he had always occupied.

Not long after Egmont's arrival, Philip privately called a meeting of
the most eminent theologians in the capital. To this conclave he
communicated briefly the state of the Low Countries, and their demand to
enjoy freedom of conscience in matters of religion. He concluded by
inquiring the opinion of his auditors on the subject. The reverend body,
doubtless supposing that the king only wanted their sanction to
extricate himself from the difficulties of his position, made answer,
"that, considering the critical situation of Flanders, and the imminent
danger, if thwarted, of its disloyalty to the crown and total defection
from the Church, he might be justified in allowing the people freedom of
worshipping in their own way." To this Philip sternly replied, "He had
not called them to learn whether he _might_ grant this to the Flemings,
but whether he _must_ do so."[649] The flexible conclave, finding they
had mistaken their cue, promptly answered in the negative; on which
Philip, prostrating himself on the ground before a crucifix, exclaimed,
"I implore thy divine majesty, Ruler of all things, that thou keep me in
the mind that I am in, never to allow myself either to become or to be
called the lord of those who reject thee for their Lord."[650]--The
story was told to the historian who records it by a member of the
assembly, filled with admiration at the pious zeal of the monarch! From
that moment the doom of the Netherlands was sealed.

Yet Egmont had so little knowledge of the true state of things, that he
indulged in the most cheerful prognostications for the future. His frank
and cordial nature readily responded to the friendly demonstrations he
received, and his vanity was gratified by the homage universally paid to
him. On leaving the country, he made a visit to the royal residences of
Segovia and of the Escorial,--the magnificent pile already begun by
Philip, and which continued to occupy more or less of his time during
the remainder of his reign. Egmont, in a letter addressed to the king,
declares himself highly delighted with what he has seen at both these
places, and assures his sovereign that he returns to Flanders the most
contented man in the world.[651]

When arrived there, early in April, 1565, the count was loud in his
profession of the amiable dispositions of the Castilian court towards
the Netherlands. Egmont's countrymen--William of Orange and a few
persons of cooler judgment alone excepted--readily indulged in the same
dream of sanguine expectation, flattering themselves with the belief
that a new policy was to prevail at Madrid, and that their country was
henceforth to thrive under the blessings of religious toleration.--It
was a pleasing illusion, destined to be of no long duration.




CHAPTER IX.

PHILIP'S INFLEXIBILITY.

Philip's Duplicity.--His Procrastination.--Despatches from
Segovia.--Effect on the Country.--The Compromise.--Orange and Egmont.

1565, 1566.


Shortly after Egmont's return to Brussels, Margaret called a meeting of
the council of state, at which the sealed instructions brought by the
envoy from Madrid were opened and read. They began by noticing the
count's demeanor in terms so flattering as showed the mission had proved
acceptable to the king. Then followed a declaration, strongly expressed
and sufficiently startling. "I would rather lose a hundred thousand
lives, if I had so many," said the monarch, "than allow a single change
in matters of religion."[652] He, however, recommended that a commission
be appointed, consisting of three bishops with a number of jurists, who
should advise with the members of the council as to the best mode of
instructing the people, especially in their spiritual concerns. It might
be well, moreover, to substitute some secret methods for the public
forms of execution, which now enabled the heretic to assume to himself
the glory of martyrdom, and thereby produce a mischievous impression on
the people.[653] No other allusion was made to the pressing grievances
of the nation, though, in a letter addressed at the same time to the
duchess, Philip said that he had come to no decision as to the council
of state, where the proposed change seemed likely to be attended with
inconvenience.[654]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S DUPLICITY.]

This, then, was the result of Egmont's mission to Madrid! This the
change so much vaunted in the policy of Philip! "The count has been the
dupe of Spanish cunning," exclaimed the prince of Orange. It was too
true; and Egmont felt it keenly, as he perceived the ridicule to which
he was exposed by the confident tone in which he had talked of the
amiable dispositions of the Castilian court, and by the credit he had
taken to himself for promoting them.[655]

A greater sensation was produced among the people; for their
expectations had been far more sanguine than those entertained by
William, and the few who, like him, understood the character of Philip
too well to place great confidence in the promises of Egmont. They
loudly declaimed against the king's insincerity, and accused their envoy
of having shown more concern for his private interests than for those of
the public. This taunt touched the honor of that nobleman, who bitterly
complained that it was an artifice of Philip to destroy his credit with
his countrymen; and the better to prove his good faith, he avowed his
purpose of throwing up at once all the offices he held under
government.[656]

The spirit of persecution, after a temporary lull, now again awakened.
But everywhere the inquisitors were exposed to insult, and met with the
same resistance as before; while their victims were cheered with
expressions of sympathy from those who saw them led to execution. To
avoid the contagion of example, the executions were now conducted
secretly in the prisons.[657] But the mystery thus thrown around the
fate of the unhappy sufferer only invested it with an additional horror.
Complaints were made every day to the government by the states, the
magistrates, and the people, denouncing the persecutions to which they
were exposed. Spies, they said, were in every house, watching looks,
words, gestures. No man was secure, either in person or property. The
public groaned under an intolerable slavery.[658] Meanwhile, the
Huguenot emissaries were busy as ever in propagating their doctrines;
and with the work of reform was mingled the seed of revolution.

The regent felt the danger of this state of things, and her impotence to
relieve it. She did all she could in freely exposing it to Philip,
informing him at the same time of Egmont's disgust, and the general
discontent of the nation, at the instructions from Spain. She ended, as
usual, by beseeching her brother to come himself, if he would preserve
his authority in the Netherlands.[659] To these communications the royal
answers came but rarely; and, when they did come, were for the most part
vague and unsatisfactory.

"Everything goes on with Philip," writes Chantonnay, formerly minister
to France, to his brother Granvelle,--"Everything goes on from
to-morrow to to-morrow; the only resolution is, to remain
irresolute.[660] The king will allow matters to become so entangled in
the Low Countries, that, if he ever should visit them, he will find it
easier to conform to the state of things than to mend it. The lords
there are more of kings than the king himself.[661] They have all the
smaller nobles in leading-strings. It is impossible that Philip should
conduct himself like a man.[662] His only object is to cajole the
Flemish nobles, so that he may be spared the necessity of coming to
Flanders."

"It is a pity," writes the secretary, Perez, "that the king will manage
affairs as he does, now taking counsel of this man, and now of that;
concealing some matters from those he consults, and trusting them with
others, showing full confidence in no one. With this way of proceeding,
it is no wonder that despatches should be contradictory in their
tenor."[663]

It is doubtless true, that procrastination and distrust were the
besetting sins of Philip, and were followed by their natural
consequences. He had, moreover, as we have seen, a sluggishness of
nature, which kept him in Madrid when he should have been in
Brussels,--where his father, in similar circumstances, would long since
have been, seeing with his own eyes what Philip saw only with the eyes
of others. But still his policy, in the present instance, may be
referred quite as much to deliberate calculation as to his natural
temper. He had early settled it as a fixed principle never to concede
religious toleration to his subjects. He had intimated this pretty
clearly in his different communications to the government of Flanders.
That he did not announce it in a more absolute and unequivocal form may
well have arisen from the apprehension, that, in the present irritable
state of the people, this might rouse their passions into a flame. At
least, it might be reserved for a last resort. Meanwhile, he hoped to
weary them out by maintaining an attitude of cold reserve; until,
convinced of the hopelessness of resistance, they would cease altogether
to resist. In short, he seemed to deal with the Netherlands like a
patient angler, who allows the trout to exhaust himself by his own
efforts, rather than by a violent movement risk the loss of him
altogether. It is clear Philip did not understand the character of the
Netherlander,--as dogged and determined as his own.

Considering the natural bent of the king's disposition, there seems no
reason to charge Granvelle, as was commonly done in the Low Countries,
with having given a direction to his policy. It is, however, certain,
that, on all great questions, the minister's judgment seems to have
perfectly coincided with that of his master. "If your majesty mitigates
the edicts," writes the cardinal, "affairs will become worse in Flanders
than they are in France."[664] No change should be allowed in the
council of state.[665] A meeting of the states-general would inflict an
injury which the king would feel for thirty years to come![666]
Granvelle maintained a busy correspondence with his partisans in the Low
Countries, and sent the results of it--frequently the original letters
themselves--to Madrid. Thus Philip, by means of the reports of the
great nobles on the one hand, and of the Cardinalists on the other, was
enabled to observe the movements in Flanders from the most opposite
points of view.

[Sidenote: HIS PROCRASTINATION.]

The king's replies to the letters of the minister were somewhat scanty,
to judge from the complaints which Granvelle made of his neglect. With
all this, the cardinal professes to be well pleased that he is rid of so
burdensome an office as that of governing the Netherlands. "Here," he
writes to his friend Viglius, "I make good cheer, busying myself with my
own affairs, and preparing my despatches in quiet, seldom leaving the
house, except to take a walk, to attend church, or to visit my
mother."[667] In this simple way of life, the philosophic statesman
seems to have passed his time to his own satisfaction, though it is
evident, notwithstanding his professions, that he cast many a longing
look back to the Netherlands, the seat of his brief authority. "The
hatred the people of Flanders bear me," he writes to Philip, "afflicts
me sorely; but I console myself that it is for the service of God and my
king."[668] The cardinal, amid his complaints of the king's neglect,
affected the most entire submission to his will. "I would go anywhere,"
he writes,--"to the Indies, anywhere in the world,--would even throw
myself into the fire, did you desire it."[669] Philip, not long after,
put these professions to the test. In October, 1565, he yielded to the
regent's importunities, and commanded Granvelle to transfer his
residence to Rome. The cardinal would not move. "Anywhere," he wrote to
his master, "but to Rome. That is a place of ceremonies and empty show,
for which I am nowise qualified. Besides, it would look too much like a
submission on your part. My diocese of Mechlin has need of me; now, if I
should go to Spain, it would look as if I went to procure the aid which
it so much requires."[670] But the cabinet of Madrid were far from
desiring the presence of so cunning a statesman to direct the royal
counsels. The orders were reiterated, to go to Rome. To Rome,
accordingly, the reluctant minister went; and we have a letter from him
to the king, dated from that capital, the first of February, 1566, in
which he counsels his master by no means to think of introducing the
Spanish Inquisition into the Netherlands.[671] It might seem as if,
contrary to the proverb, change of climate had wrought some change in
the disposition of the cardinal.--From this period, Granvelle, so long
the terror of the Low Countries, disappears from the management of their
affairs. He does not, however, disappear from the political theatre. We
shall again meet with the able and ambitious prelate, first as viceroy
of Naples, and afterwards at Madrid occupying the highest station in the
councils of his sovereign.

Early in July, 1565, the commission of reform appointed by Philip
transmitted its report to Spain. It recommended no change in the present
laws, except so far as to authorize the judges to take into
consideration the age and sex of the accused, and in case of penitence
to commute the capital punishment of the convicted heretic for
banishment. Philip approved of the report in all particulars,--except
the only particular that involved a change, that of mercy to the
penitent heretic.[672]

At length, the king resolved on such an absolute declaration of his will
as should put all doubts on the matter at rest, and relieve him from
further importunity. On the seventeenth of October, 1565, he addressed
that memorable letter to his sister, from the Wood of Segovia, which may
be said to have determined the fate of the Netherlands. Philip, in this,
intimates his surprise that his letters should appear to Egmont
inconsistent with what he had heard from his lips at Madrid. His desire
was not for novelty in anything. He would have the Inquisition conducted
by the inquisitors, as it had hitherto been, and as by right, divine and
human, belonged to them.[673] For the edicts, it was no time in the
present state of religion to make any change; both his own and those of
his father must be executed. The Anabaptists--a sect for which, as the
especial butt of persecution, much intercession had been made--must be
dealt with according to the rigor of the law. Philip concluded by
conjuring the regent and the lords in the council faithfully to obey his
commands, as in so doing they would render the greatest service to the
cause of religion and of their country,--which last, he adds, without
the execution of these ordinances, would be of little worth.[674]

In a private letter to the regent of nearly the same date with these
public despatches, Philip speaks of the proposed changes in the council
of state as a subject on which he had not made up his mind.[675] He
notices also the proposed convocation of the states-general as a thing,
in the present disorders of the country, altogether
inexpedient.[676]--Thus the king's despatches covered nearly all the
debatable ground on which the contest had been so long going on between
the crown and the country. There could be no longer any complaint of
ambiguity or reserve in the expression of the royal will. "God knows,"
writes Viglius, "what wry faces were made in the council on learning the
absolute will of his majesty!"[677] There was not one of its members,
not even the president or Barlaimont, who did not feel the necessity of
bending to the tempest so far as to suspend, if not to mitigate, the
rigor of the law. They looked to the future with gloomy apprehension.
Viglius strongly urged, that the despatches should not be made public
till some further communication should be had with Philip to warn him of
the consequences. In this he was opposed by the prince of Orange. "It
was too late," he said, "to talk of what was expedient to be done. Since
the will of his majesty was so unequivocally expressed, all that
remained for the government was to execute it."[678] In vain did Viglius
offer to take the whole responsibility of the delay on himself.
William's opinion, supported by Egmont and Hoorne, prevailed with the
regent, too timid, by such an act of disobedience, to hazard the
displeasure of her brother. As, late in the evening, the council broke
up, William was heard to exclaim, "Now we shall see the beginning of a
fine tragedy!"[679]

[Sidenote: EFFECT ON THE COUNTRY.]

In the month of December, the regent caused copies of the despatches,
with extracts from the letters to herself, to be sent to the governors
and the councils of the several provinces, with orders that they should
see to their faithful execution. Officers, moreover, were to be
appointed, whose duty it was to ascertain the manner in which these
orders were fulfilled, and to report thereon to the government.

The result was what had been foreseen. The publication of the
despatches--to borrow the words of a Flemish writer--created a sensation
throughout the country little short of what would have been caused by a
declaration of war.[680] Under every discouragement, men had flattered
themselves, up to this period, with the expectation of some change for
the better. The constantly increasing number of the Reformers, the
persevering resistance to the Inquisition, the reiterated remonstrances
to the government, the general persuasion that the great nobles, even
the regent, were on their side, had all combined to foster the hope that
toleration, to some extent, would eventually be conceded by Philip.[681]
This hope was now crushed. Whatever doubts had been entertained were
dispelled by these last despatches, which came like a hurricane,
sweeping away the mists that had so long blinded the eyes of men, and
laying open the policy of the crown, clear as day, to the dullest
apprehension. The people passed to the extremity of despair. The Spanish
Inquisition, with its train of horrors, seemed to be already in the
midst of them. They called to mind all the tales of woe they had heard
of it. They recounted the atrocities perpetrated by the Spaniards in the
New World, which, however erroneously, they charged on the Holy Office.
"Do they expect," they cried, "that we shall tamely wait here, like the
wretched Indians, to be slaughtered by millions?"[682] Men were seen
gathering into knots, in the streets and public squares, discussing the
conduct of the government, and gloomily talking of secret associations
and foreign alliances. Meetings were stealthily held in the woods, and
in the suburbs of the great towns, where the audience listened to
fanatical preachers, who, while discussing the doctrines of religious
reform, darkly hinted at resistance. Tracts were printed, and widely
circulated, in which the reciprocal obligations of lord and vassal were
treated, and the right of resistance was maintained; and, in some
instances, these difficult questions were handled with decided ability.
A more common form was that of satire and scurrilous lampoon,--a
favorite weapon with the early Reformers. Their satirical sallies were
levelled indifferently at the throne and the Church. The bishops were an
obvious mark. No one was spared. Comedies were written to ridicule the
clergy. Never since the discovery of the art of printing--more than a
century before--had the press been turned into an engine of such
political importance as in the earlier stages of the revolution in the
Netherlands. Thousands of the seditious pamphlets thus thrown off were
rapidly circulated among a people, the humblest of whom possessed what
many a noble in other lands, at that day, was little skilled in,--the
art of reading. Placards were nailed to the doors of the magistrates, in
some of the cities, proclaiming that Rome stood in need of her Brutus.
Others were attached to the gates of Orange and Egmont, calling on them
to come forth and save their country.[683]

Margaret was filled with alarm at these signs of disaffection throughout
the land. She felt the ground trembling beneath her. She wrote again and
again to Philip, giving full particulars of the state of the public
sentiment, and the seditious spirit which seemed on the verge of
insurrection. She intimated her wish to resign the government.[684] She
besought him to allow the states-general to be summoned, and, at all
events, to come in person and take the reins from her hands, too weak to
hold them.--Philip coolly replied, that "he was sorry the despatches
from Segovia had given such offence. They had been designed only for the
service of God and the good of the country."[685]

In this general fermentation, a new class of men came on the stage,
important by their numbers, though they had taken no part as yet in
political affairs. These were the lower nobility of the country; men of
honorable descent, and many of them allied by blood or marriage with the
highest nobles of the land. They were too often men of dilapidated
fortunes, fallen into decay through their own prodigality, or that of
their progenitors. Many had received their education abroad, some in
Geneva, the home of Calvin, where they naturally imbibed the doctrines
of the great Reformer. In needy circumstances, with no better possession
than the inheritance of honorable traditions, or the memory of better
days, they were urged by a craving, impatient spirit, which naturally
made them prefer any change to the existing order of things. They were,
for the most part, bred to arms; and, in the days of Charles the Fifth,
had found an ample career opened to their ambition under the imperial
banners. But Philip, with less policy than his father, had neglected to
court this class of his subjects, who, without fixed principles or
settled motives of action, seemed to float on the surface of events,
prepared to throw their weight, at any moment, into the scale of
revolution.

[Sidenote: THE COMPROMISE.]

Some twenty of these cavaliers, for the most part young men, met
together in the month of November, in Brussels, at the house of Count
Culemborg, a nobleman attached to the Protestant opinions. Their avowed
purpose was to listen to the teachings of a Flemish divine, named
Junius, a man of parts and learning, who had been educated in the school
of Calvin, and who, having returned to the Netherlands, exercised, under
the very eye of the regent, the dangerous calling of the missionary. At
this meeting of the discontented nobles, the talk naturally turned on
the evils of the land, and the best means of remedying them. The result
of the conferences was the formation of a league, the principal objects
of which are elaborately set forth in a paper known as the
"Compromise."[686]

This celebrated document declares that the king had been induced by evil
counsellors,--for the most part foreigners,--in violation of his oath,
to establish the Inquisition in the country; a tribunal opposed to all
law, divine and human, surpassing in barbarity anything ever yet
practised by tyrants,[687] tending to bring the land to utter ruin, and
the inhabitants to a state of miserable bondage. The confederates,
therefore, in order not to become the prey of those who, under the name
of religion, seek only to enrich themselves at the expense of life and
property,[688] bind themselves by a solemn oath to resist the
establishment of the Inquisition, under whatever form it may be
introduced, and to protect each other against it with their lives and
fortunes. In doing this, they protest that, so far from intending
anything to the dishonor of the king, their only intent is to maintain
the king in his estate, and to preserve the tranquillity of the realm.
They conclude with solemnly invoking the blessing of the Almighty on
this their lawful and holy confederation.

Such are some of the principal points urged in this remarkable
instrument, in which little mention is made of the edicts, every other
grievance being swallowed up in that of the detested Inquisition.
Indeed, the translations of the "Compromise," which soon appeared, in
various languages, usually bore the title of "League of the Nobles of
Flanders against the Spanish Inquisition."[689]

It will hardly be denied that those who signed this instrument had
already made a decided move in the game of rebellion. They openly
arrayed themselves against the execution of the law and the authority of
the crown. They charged the king with having violated his oath, and they
accused him of abetting a persecution which, under the pretext of
religion, had no other object than the spoil of its victims. It was of
little moment that all this was done under professions of loyalty. Such
professions are the decent cover with which the first approaches are
always made in a revolution.--The copies of the instrument differ
somewhat from each other. One of these, before me, as if to give the
edge of personal insult to their remonstrance, classes in the same
category "the vagabond, the priest, and the _Spaniard_."[690]

Among the small company who first subscribed the document, we find names
that rose to eminence in the stormy scenes of the revolution. There was
Count Louis of Nassau, a younger brother of the prince of Orange, the
"_bon chevalier_," as William used to call him,--a title well earned by
his generous spirit and many noble and humane qualities. Louis was bred
a Lutheran, and was zealously devoted to the cause of reform, when his
brother took but a comparatively languid interest in it. His ardent,
precipitate temper was often kept in check, and more wisely directed, by
the prudent counsels of William; while he amply repaid his brother by
his devoted attachment, and by the zeal and intrepidity with which he
carried out his plans. Louis, indeed, might be called the right hand of
William.

Another of the party was Philip de Marnix, lord of St. Aldegonde. He was
the intimate friend of William of Orange. In the words of a Belgian
writer, he was one of the beautiful characters of the time;[691]
distinguished alike as a soldier, a statesman, and a scholar. It is to
his pen that the composition of the "Compromise" has generally been
assigned. Some critics have found its tone inconsistent with the sedate
and tranquil character of his mind. Yet St. Aldegonde's device, "_Repos
ailleurs_,"[692] would seem to indicate a fervid imagination and an
impatient spirit of activity.

But the man who seems to have entered most heartily into these first
movements of the revolution was Henry, viscount of Brederode. He sprung
from an ancient line, boasting his descent from the counts of Holland.
The only possession that remained to him, the lordship of Viana, he
still claimed to hold as independent of the king of Spain, or any other
potentate. His patrimony had been wasted in a course of careless
indulgence, and little else was left than barren titles and
pretensions,--which, it must be owned, he was not diffident in vaunting.
He was fond of convivial pleasures, and had a free, reckless humor, that
took with the people, to whom he was still more endeared by his sturdy
hatred of oppression. Brederode was, in short, one of those busy,
vaporing characters, who make themselves felt at the outset of a
revolution, but are soon lost in the course of it; like those ominous
birds which with their cries and screams herald in the tempest that soon
sweeps them out of sight for ever.

Copies of the "Compromise," with the names attached to it, were soon
distributed through all parts of the country, and eagerly signed by
great numbers, not merely of the petty nobility and gentry, but of
substantial burghers and wealthy merchants, men who had large interests
at stake in the community. Hames, king-at-arms of the Golden Fleece, who
was a zealous confederate, boasted that the names of two thousand such
persons were on his paper.[693] Among them were many Roman Catholics;
and we are again called to notice, that in the outset this Protestant
revolution received important support from the Catholics themselves, who
forgot all religious differences in a common hatred of arbitrary power.

[Sidenote: ALARM OF THE COUNTRY.]

Few, if any, of the great nobles seem to have been among the number of
those who signed the "Compromise,"--certainly none of the council of
state. It would hardly have done to invite one of the royal
councillors--in other words, one of the government--to join the
confederacy, when they would have been bound by the obligations of their
office to disclose it to the regent.

But if the great lords did not become actual parties to the league, they
showed their sympathy with the object of it, by declining to enforce the
execution of the laws against which it was directed. On the
twenty-fourth of January, 1566, the prince of Orange addressed, from
Breda, a letter to the regent, on the occasion of her sending him the
despatches from Segovia, for the rule of his government in the
provinces. In this remarkable letter, William exposes, with greater
freedom than he was wont, his reasons for refusing to comply with the
royal orders. "I express myself freely and frankly," he says, "on a
topic on which I have not been consulted; but I do so, lest by my
silence I may incur the responsibility of the mischief that must ensue."
He then briefly, and in a decided tone, touches on the evils of the
Inquisition,--introduced, as he says, contrary to the repeated pledges
of the king,--and on the edicts. Great indulgence had been of late shown
in the interpretation of these latter; and to revive them on a sudden,
so as to execute them with their ancient rigor, would be most
disastrous. There could not be a worse time than the present, when the
people were sorely pressed by scarcity of food, and in a critical state
from the religious agitations on their borders. It might cost the king
his empire in the Netherlands, and throw it into the hands of his
neighbors.[694]

"For my own part," he concludes, "if his majesty insists on the
execution of these measures, rather than incur the stain which must rest
on me and my house by attempting it, I will resign my office into the
hands of some one better acquainted with the humors of the people, and
who will be better able to maintain order in the country."[695]

In the same tone several of the other provincial governors replied to
Margaret, declaring that they could never coolly stand by and see fifty
or sixty thousand of their countrymen burned to death for errors of
religion.[696] The regent was sorely perplexed by this desertion of the
men on whom she most relied. She wrote to them in a strain of
expostulation, and besought the prince, in particular, not to add to the
troubles of the time, by abandoning his post, where the attachment of
the people gave him such unbounded influence.[697]

The agitations of the country, in the mean time, continued to increase.
There was a scarcity of bread,--so often the forerunner of
revolution,--and this article had risen to an enormous price. The people
were menaced with famine, which might have led to serious consequences,
but for a temporary relief from Spain.[698]

Rumors now began to be widely circulated of the speedy coming of Philip,
with a large army, to chastise his vassals; and the rumors gained easy
credit with those who felt they were already within the pale of
rebellion. Duke Eric of Brunswick was making numerous levies on the
German borders, and it was generally believed that their destination was
Flanders. It was in vain that Margaret, who ascertained the falsehood of
the report, endeavored to undeceive the people.[699]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S INFLEXIBILITY.]

A short time previously, in the month of June, an interview had taken
place, at Bayonne, between the queen-mother, Catherine de Medicis, and
her daughter, Isabella of Spain. Instead of her husband, Isabella was
accompanied at this interview by the counsellor in whom he most trusted,
the duke of Alva. The two queens were each attended by a splendid
retinue of nobles. The meeting was prolonged for several days, amidst a
succession of balls, tourneys, and magnificent banquets, at which the
costly dress and equipage of the French nobility contrasted strangely
enough with the no less ostentatious simplicity of the Spaniards. This
simplicity, so contrary to the usual pomp of the Castilian, was in
obedience to the orders of Philip, who, foreseeing the national
emulation, forbade the indulgence of it at a foolish cost, which in the
end was severely felt by the shattered finances of France.

Amid the brilliant pageants which occupied the public eye, secret
conferences were daily carried on between Catherine and the duke of
Alva. The results were never published, but enough found its way into
the light to show that the principal object was the extermination of
heresy in France and the Netherlands. The queen-mother was for milder
measures,--though slower not less sure. But the iron-hearted duke
insisted that to grant liberty of conscience was to grant unbounded
licence. The only way to exterminate the evil was by fire and sword! It
was on this occasion that, when Catherine suggested that it was easier
to deal with the refractory commons than with the nobles, Alva replied,
"True, but ten thousand frogs are not worth the head of a single
salmon."[700]--an ominous simile, which was afterwards remembered
against its author, when he ruled over the Netherlands.[701]

The report of these dark conferences had reached the Low Countries,
where it was universally believed that the object of them was to secure
the coöperation of France in crushing the liberties of Flanders.[702]

[Sidenote: ALARM OF THE COUNTRY.]

In the panic thus spread throughout the country, the more timid or
prudent, especially of those who dwelt in the seaports, began to take
measures for avoiding these evils by emigration. They sought refuge in
Protestant states, and especially in England, where no less than thirty
thousand, we are told by a contemporary, took shelter under the sceptre
of Elizabeth.[703] They swarmed in the cities of London and Sandwich,
and the politic queen assigned them also the seaport of Norwich as their
residence. Thus Flemish industry was transferred to English soil. The
course of trade between the two nations now underwent a change. The silk
and woollen stuffs, which had formerly been sent from Flanders to
England, became the staple of a large export-trade from England to
Flanders. "The Low Countries," writes the correspondent of Granvelle,
"are the Indies of the English, who make war on our purses, as the
French, some years since, made war on our towns."[704]

Some of the Flemish provinces, instead of giving way to despondency,
appealed sturdily to their charters, to rescue them from the arbitrary
measures of the crown. The principal towns of Brabant, with Antwerp at
their head, intrenched themselves behind their _Joyeuse Entrée_. The
question was brought before the council; a decree was given in favor of
the applicants, and ratified by the regent; and the free soil of Brabant
was no longer polluted by the presence of the Inquisition.[705]

The gloom now became deeper round the throne of the regent. Of all in
the Netherlands, the person least to be envied was the one who ruled
over them. Weaned from her attachment to Granvelle by the influence of
the lords, Margaret now found herself compelled to resume the arbitrary
policy which she disapproved, and to forfeit the support of the very
party to which of late she had given all her confidence. The lords in
the council withdrew from her, the magistrates in the provinces thwarted
her, and large masses of the population were arrayed in actual
resistance against the government. It may seem strange that it was not
till the spring of 1566 that she received positive tidings of the
existence of the league, when she was informed of it by Egmont, and some
others of the council of state.[706] As usual, the rumor went beyond the
truth. Twenty or thirty thousand men were said to be in arms, and half
that number to be prepared to march on Brussels, and seize the person of
the regent, unless she complied with their demands.[707]

For a moment Margaret thought of taking refuge in the citadel. But she
soon rallied, and showed the spirit to have been expected in the
daughter of Charles the Fifth. She ordered the garrisons to be
strengthened in the fortresses throughout the country. She summoned the
companies of _ordonnance_ to the capital, and caused them to renew their
oaths of fidelity to the king. She wrote to the Spanish ministers at the
neighboring courts, informed them of the league, and warned them to
allow no aid to be sent to it from the countries where they resided.
Finally, she called a meeting of the knights of the Golden Fleece and
the council of state, for the twenty-seventh of March, to deliberate on
the perilous situation of the country. Having completed these
arrangements, the duchess wrote to her brother, informing him exactly of
the condition of things, and suggesting what seemed to her counsellors
the most effectual remedy. She wrote the more freely, as her love of
power had yielded to a sincere desire to extricate herself from the
trials and troubles which attended it.[708]

There were but two courses, she said, force or concession.[709] The
former, to say nothing of the ruin it would bring on the land, was
rendered difficult by want of money to pay the troops, and by the want
of trustworthy officers, to command them. Concessions must consist in
abolishing the Inquisition,--a useless tribunal where sectaries swarmed
openly in the cities,--in modifying the edicts, and in granting a free
pardon to all who had signed the Compromise, provided they would return
to their duty.[710] On these terms, the lords of the council were
willing to guaranty the obedience of the people. At all events, they
promised Margaret their support in enforcing it. She would not express
her own preference for either of the alternatives presented to Philip;
but would faithfully execute his commands, whatever they might be, to
the best of her ability.--Without directly expressing her preference, it
was pretty clear on which side it lay. Margaret concluded by earnestly
beseeching her brother to return an immediate answer to her despatches
by the courier who bore them.

[Sidenote: ORANGE AND EGMONT.]

The person who seems to have enjoyed the largest share of Margaret's
confidence, at this time, was Egmont. He remained at Brussels, and still
kept his seat in council after William had withdrawn to his estates in
Breda. Yet the prince, although he had left Brussels in disgust, had not
taken part with the confederates; much less--as was falsely rumored, and
to his great annoyance--put himself at their head.[711] His brother, it
is true, and some of his particular friends, had joined the league. But
Louis declares that he did so without the knowledge of William. When the
latter, a fortnight afterwards, learned the existence of the league, he
expressed his entire disapprobation of it.[712] He even used his
authority, we are told, to prevent the confederates from resorting to
some violent measures, among others the seizure of Antwerp, promising
that he would aid them to accomplish their ends in a more orderly
way.[713] What he desired was, to have the states-general called
together by the king. But he would not assume a hostile attitude, like
that of the confederates, to force him into this unpalatable
measure.[714] When convened, he would have had the legislature, without
transcending its constitutional limits, remonstrate, and lay the
grievances of the nation before the throne.

This temperate mode of proceeding did not suit the hot blood of the
younger confederates. "Your brother," writes Hames to Louis, "is too
slow and lukewarm. He would have us employ only remonstrance against
these hungry wolves; against enemies who do nothing in return but
behead, and banish, and burn us. We are to do the talking, and they the
acting. We must fight with the pen, while they fight with the
sword."[715]

The truth was, that William was not possessed of the fiery zeal which
animated most of the Reformers. In his early years, as we have seen, he
had been subjected to the influence of the Protestant religion at one
period, and of the Roman Catholic at another. If the result of this had
been to beget in him something like a philosophical indifference to the
great questions in dispute, it had proved eminently favorable to a
spirit of toleration. He shrunk from that system of persecution which
proscribed men for their religious opinions. Soon after the arrival of
the despatches from Segovia, William wrote to a friend: "The king
orders, not only obstinate heretics, but even the penitent, to be put to
death. I know not how I can endure this. It does not seem to me that
such measures are either Christian-like or practicable."[716] In another
letter he says: "I greatly fear these despatches will drive men into
rebellion. I should be glad, if I could, to save my country from ruin,
and so many innocent persons from slaughter. But when I say anything in
the council, I am sure to be misinterpreted. So I am greatly perplexed;
since speech and silence are equally bad."[717]

Acting with his habitual caution, therefore, he spoke little, and seldom
expressed his sentiments in writing. "The less one puts in writing," he
said to his less prudent brother, "the better."[718] Yet when the
occasion demanded it, he did not shrink from a plain avowal of his
sentiments, both in speaking and writing. Such was the speech he
delivered in council before Egmont's journey to Spain; and in the same
key was the letter which he addressed to the regent on receiving the
despatches from Segovia. But, whatever might be his reserve, his real
opinions were not misunderstood. He showed them too plainly by his
actions. When Philip's final instructions were made known to him by
Margaret, the prince, as he had before done under Granvelle, ceased to
attend the meetings of the council, and withdrew from Brussels.[719] He
met in Breda, and afterwards in Hoogstraten, in the spring of 1566, a
number of the principal nobles, under cover, as usual, of a banquet.
Discussions took place on the state of the country, and some of the
confederates who were present at the former place were for more violent
measures than William approved. As he could not bring them over to his
own temperate policy, he acquiesced in the draft of a petition, which,
as we shall see in the ensuing chapter, was presented to the
regent.[720] On the whole, up to the period at which we are arrived, the
conduct of the prince of Orange must be allowed to have been wise and
consistent. In some respects it forms a contrast to that of his more
brilliant rival, Count Egmont.

This nobleman was sincerely devoted to the Roman Catholic faith. He was
stanch in his loyalty to the king. At the same time he was ardently
attached to his country, and felt a generous indignation at the wrongs
she suffered from her rulers. Thus Egmont was acted on by opposite
feelings; and, as he was a man of impulse, his conduct, as he yielded
sometimes to the one and sometimes to the other of these influences,
might be charged with inconsistency. None charged him with insincerity.

There was that in Egmont's character which early led the penetrating
Granvelle to point him out to Philip as a man who by politic treatment
might be secured to the royal cause.[721] Philip and his sister, the
regent, both acted on this hint. They would hardly have attempted as
much with William. Egmont's personal vanity made him more accessible to
their approaches. It was this, perhaps, quite as much as any feeling of
loyalty, which, notwithstanding the affront put on him, as he conceived,
by the king, induced him to remain at Brussels, and supply the place in
the councils of the regent which William had left vacant. Yet we find
one of Granvelle's correspondents speaking of Egmont as too closely
united with the lords to be detached from them. "To say truth," says the
writer, "he even falters in his religion; and whatever he may say to-day
on this point, he will be sure to say the contrary to-morrow."[722] Such
a man, who could not be true to himself, could hardly become the leader
of others.

[Sidenote: DESIGN OF THE CONFEDERATES.]

"They put Egmont forward," writes the regent's secretary, "as the
boldest, to say what other men dare not say."[723] This was after the
despatches had been received. "He complains bitterly," continues the
writer, "of the king's insincerity. The prince has more _finesse_. He
has also more credit with the nation. If you could gain him, you will
secure all."[724] Yet Philip did not try to gain him. With all his
wealth, he was not rich enough to do it. He knew this, and he hated
William with the hatred which a despotic monarch naturally bears to a
vassal of such a temper. He perfectly understood the character of
William. The nation understood it too; and, with all their admiration
for the generous qualities of Egmont, it was to his greater rival that
they looked to guide them in the coming struggle of the revolution.




CHAPTER X.

THE CONFEDERATES.

Design of the Confederates.--They enter Brussels.--The Petition.--The
Gueux.

1566.


The party of the malecontents in the Netherlands comprehended persons of
very different opinions, who were by no means uniformly satisfied with
the reasonable objects proposed by the compromise. Some demanded entire
liberty of conscience. Others would not have stopped short of a
revolution that would enable the country to shake off the Spanish yoke.
And another class of men without principle of any kind--such as are too
often thrown up in strong political fermentations--looked to these
intestine troubles as offering the means of repairing their own fortunes
out of the wreck of their country's. Yet, with the exception of the
last, there were few who would not have been content to accept the
compromise as the basis of their demands.

The winter had passed away, however, and the confederacy had wrought no
change in the conduct of the government. Indeed, the existence of the
confederacy would not appear to have been known to the regent till the
latter part of February, 1566. It was not till the close of the
following month that it was formally disclosed to her by some of the
great lords.[725] If it was known to her before, Margaret must have
thought it prudent to affect ignorance, till some overt action on the
part of the league called for her notice.

It became, then, a question with the members of the league what was next
to be done. It was finally resolved to present a petition, in the name
of the whole body, to the regent, a measure which, as already intimated,
received the assent, if not the approbation, of the prince of Orange.
The paper was prepared, as it would seem, in William's own house at
Brussels, by his brother Louis; and was submitted, we are told, to the
revision of the prince, who thus had it in his power to mitigate, in
more than one instance the vehemence, or rather violence, of the
expressions.[726]

To give greater effect to the petition, it was determined that a large
deputation from the league should accompany its presentation to the
regent. Notice was given to four hundred of the confederates to assemble
at the beginning of April. They were to come well-mounted and armed,
prepared at once to proceed to Brussels. Among the number thus enrolled,
we find three gentlemen of Margaret's own household, as well as some
members of the companies of _ordonnance_ commanded by the prince, and by
the Counts Egmont, Hoorne, and other great lords.[727]

The duchess, informed of these proceedings, called a meeting of the
council of state and the knights of the Golden Fleece, to determine on
the course to be pursued. The discussion was animated, as there was much
difference of opinion. Some agreed with Count Barlaimont in regarding
the measure in the light of a menace. Such a military array could have
no other object than to overawe the government, and was an insult to the
regent. In the present excited state of the people, it would be attended
with the greatest danger to allow their entrance into the capital.[728]

The prince of Orange, who had yielded to Margaret's earnest entreaties
that he would attend this meeting, took a different view of the matter.
The number of the delegates, he said, only proved the interest taken in
the petition. They were men of rank, some of them kinsmen or personal
friends of those present. Their characters and position in the country
were sufficient sureties that they meditated no violence to the state.
They were the representatives of an ancient order of nobility; and it
would be strange indeed, if they were to be excluded from the right of
petition, enjoyed by the humblest individual.--In the course of the
debate, William made some personal allusions to his own situation,
delivering himself with great warmth. His enemies, he said, had the
royal ear, and would persuade the king to kill him and confiscate his
property.[729] He was even looked upon as the head of the confederacy.
It was of no use for him to give his opinion in the council, where it
was sure to be misinterpreted. All that remained for him was to ask
leave to resign his offices, and withdraw to his estates.[730] Count
Hoorne followed in much the same key, inveighing bitterly against the
ingratitude of Philip. The two nobles yielded, at length, so far to
Margaret's remonstrances, as to give their opinions on the course to be
pursued. But when she endeavored to recall them to their duty by
reminding them of their oaths to the king, they boldly replied, they
would willingly lay down their lives for their country, but would never
draw sword for the edicts or the Inquisition.[731]--William's views in
regard to the admission of the confederates into Brussels were supported
by much the greater part of the assembly, and finally prevailed with the
regent.

[Sidenote: THE CONFEDERATES ENTER BRUSSELS.]

On the third of April, 1566, two hundred of the confederates entered the
gates of Brussels. They were on horseback, and each man was furnished
with a brace of pistols in his holsters, wearing in other respects only
the usual arms of a private gentleman. The Viscount Brederode and Louis
of Nassau rode at their head.[732] They prudently conformed to William's
advice, not to bring any foreigners in their train, and to enter the
city quietly, without attempting to stir the populace by any military
display, or the report of fire-arms.[733] Their coming was welcomed with
general joy by the inhabitants, who greeted them as a band of patriots
ready to do battle for the liberties of the country. They easily found
quarters in the houses of the principal citizens; and Louis and
Brederode were lodged in the mansion of the prince of Orange.[734]

On the following day a meeting of the confederates was held at the hotel
of Count Culemborg, where they listened to a letter which Brederode had
just received from Spain, informing him of the death of Morone, a
Flemish nobleman well known to them all, who had perished in the flames
of the Inquisition.[735] With feelings exasperated by this gloomy
recital, they renewed, in the most solemn manner, their oaths of
fidelity to the league. An application was then made to Margaret for
leave to lay their petition before her. The day following was assigned
for the act; and at noon, on the fifth of April, the whole company
walked in solemn procession through the streets of Brussels to the
palace of the regent. She received them, surrounded by the lords, in the
great hall adjoining the council-chamber. As they defiled before her,
the confederates ranged themselves along the sides of the apartment.
Margaret seems to have been somewhat disconcerted by the presence of so
martial an array within the walls of her palace. But she soon recovered
herself, and received them graciously.[736]

Brederode was selected to present the petition, and he prefaced it by a
short address. They had come in such numbers, he said, the better to
show their respect to the regent, and the deep interest they took in the
cause. They had been accused of opening a correspondence with foreign
princes, which he affirmed to be a malicious slander, and boldly
demanded to be confronted with the authors of it.[737]--Notwithstanding
this stout denial, it is very possible the audience did not place
implicit confidence in the assertions of the speaker. He then presented
the petition to the regent, expressing the hope that she would approve
of it, as dictated only by their desire to promote the glory of the king
and the good of the country. If this was its object, Margaret replied,
she doubted not she should be content with it.[738] The following day
was named for them again to wait on her, and receive her answer.

The instrument began with a general statement of the distresses of the
land, much like that in the Compromise, but couched in more respectful
language. The petitioners had hoped that the action of the great lords,
or of the states-general, would have led to some reform. But finding
these had not moved in the matter, while the evil went on increasing
from day to day, until ruin was at the gate, they had come to beseech
her highness to lay the subject herself before the king, and implore his
majesty to save the country from perdition by the instant abolition of
both the Inquisition and the edicts. Far from wishing to dictate laws to
their sovereign, they humbly besought her to urge on him the necessity
of convoking the states-general, and devising with them some effectual
remedy for the existing evils. Meanwhile they begged of her to suspend
the further execution of the laws in regard to religion until his
majesty's pleasure could be known. If their prayer were not granted,
they at least were absolved from all responsibility as to the
consequences, now that they had done their duty as true and loyal
subjects.[739]--The business-like character of this document forms a
contrast to the declamatory style of the Compromise; and in its
temperate tone, particularly, we may fancy we recognize the touches of
the more prudent hand of the prince of Orange.

On the sixth, the confederates again assembled in the palace of the
regent, to receive her answer. They were in greater force than before,
having been joined by a hundred and fifty of their brethren, who had
entered the city the night previous, under the command of Counts
Culemborg and Berg. They were received by Margaret in the same courteous
manner as on the preceding day, and her answer was made to them in
writing, being endorsed on their own petition.

She announced in it her purpose of using all her influence with her
royal brother to persuade him to accede to their wishes. They might rely
on his doing all that was conformable to his _natural and accustomed
benignity_.[740] She had herself, with the advice of her council and the
knights of the Golden Fleece, prepared a scheme for moderating the
edicts, to be laid before his majesty, which she trusted would satisfy
the nation. They must however, be aware, that she herself had no power
to suspend the execution of the laws. But she would send instructions to
the inquisitors to proceed with all discretion in the exercise of their
functions, until they should learn the king's pleasure.[741] She trusted
that the confederates would so demean themselves as not to make it
necessary to give different orders. All this she had done with the
greater readiness, from her conviction that they had no design to make
any innovation in the established religion of the country, but desired
rather to uphold it in all its vigor.

To this reply, as gracious in its expressions, and as favorable in its
import, as the league could possibly have expected, they made a formal
answer in writing, which they presented in a body to the duchess, on the
eighth of the month. They humbly thanked her for the prompt attention
she had given to their petition, but would have been still more
contented if her answer had been more full and explicit. They knew the
embarrassments under which she labored, and they thanked her for the
assurance she had given,--which, it may be remarked, she never did
give,--that all proceedings connected with the Inquisition and the
edicts should be stayed until his majesty's pleasure should be
ascertained. They were most anxious to conform to whatever the king,
_with the advice and consent of the states-general_, duly assembled,
should determine in matters of religion,[742] and they would show their
obedience by taking such order for their own conduct as should give
entire satisfaction to her highness.

[Sidenote: MARGARET'S REPLY]

To this the duchess briefly replied, that, if there were any cause for
offence hereafter, it would be chargeable, not on her, but on them. She
prayed the confederates henceforth to desist from their secret
practices, and to invite no new member to join their body.[743]

This brief and admonitory reply seems not to have been to the taste of
the petitioners, who would willingly have drawn from Margaret some
expression that might be construed into a sanction of their proceedings.
After a short deliberation among themselves, they again addressed her by
the mouth of one of their own number, the lord of Kerdes. The speaker,
after again humbly thanking the regent for her favorable answer, said
that it would have given still greater satisfaction to his associates,
if she would but have declared, in the presence of the great lords
assembled, that she took the union of the confederates in good part and
for the service of the king;[744] and he concluded with promising that
they would henceforth do all in their power to give contentment to her
highness.

To all this the duchess simply replied, she had no doubt of it. When
again pressed by the persevering deputy to express her opinion of this
assembly, she bluntly answered, she could form no judgment in the
matter.[745]--She gave pretty clear evidence, however, of her real
opinion, soon after, by dismissing the three gentlemen of her household
whom we have mentioned as having joined the league.[746]

As Margaret found that the confederates were not altogether satisfied
with her response to their petition, she allowed Count Hoogstraten, one
of her councillors, to inform some of them, privately, that she had
already written to the provinces to have all processes in affairs of
religion stayed until Philip's decision should be known. To leave no
room for distrust, the count was allowed to show them copies of the
letters.[747]

The week spent by the league in Brussels was a season of general
jubilee. At one of the banquets given at Culemborg House, where three
hundred confederates were present, Brederode presided. During the repast
he related to some of the company, who had arrived on the day after the
petition was delivered, the manner in which it had been received by the
duchess. She seemed at first disconcerted, he said, by the number of the
confederates, but was reassured by Barlaimont, who told her "they were
nothing but a crowd of beggars."[748] This greatly incensed some of the
company,--with whom, probably, it was too true for a jest. But
Brederode, taking it more good-humoredly, said that he and his friends
had no objection to the name, since they were ready at any time to
become beggars for the service of their king and country.[749] This
sally was received with great applause by the guests, who, as they drank
to one another, shouted forth, "_Vivent les Gueux!_"--"Long live the
beggars!"

Brederode, finding the jest took so well,--an event, indeed, for which
he seems to have been prepared,--left the room, and soon returned with a
beggar's wallet, and a wooden bowl, such as was used by the mendicant
fraternity in the Netherlands. Then, pledging the company in a bumper,
he swore to devote his life and fortune to the cause. The wallet and the
bowl went round the table; and, as each of the merry guests drank in
turn to his confederates, the shout arose of "_Vivent les Gueux!"_ until
the hall rang with the mirth of the revellers.[750]

It happened that at the time the prince of Orange and the Counts Egmont
and Hoorne were passing by on their way to the council. Their attention
was attracted by the noise, and they paused a moment, when William, who
knew well the temper of the jovial company, proposed that they should go
in, and endeavor to break up their revels. "We may have some business of
the council to transact with these men this evening," he said, "and at
this rate they will hardly be in a condition for it." The appearance of
the three nobles gave a fresh impulse to the boisterous merriment of the
company; and as the new-comers pledged their friends in the wine-cup, it
was received with the same thundering acclamations of "_Vivent les
Gueux!_"[751] This incident, of so little importance in itself, was
afterwards made of consequence by the turn that was given to it in the
prosecution of the two unfortunate noblemen who accompanied the prince
of Orange.

Every one knows the importance of a popular name to a faction,--a _nom
de guerre_, under which its members may rally and make head together as
an independent party. Such the name of "_Gueux_" now became to the
confederates. It soon was understood to signify those who were opposed
to the government, and, in a wiser sense, to the Roman Catholic
religion. In every language in which the history of these acts has been
recorded,--the Latin, German, Spanish, or English,--the French term
_Gueux_ is ever employed to designate this party of malecontents in the
Netherlands.[752]

[Sidenote: THE GUEUX.]

It now became common to follow out the original idea by imitations of
the different articles used by mendicants. Staffs were procured, after
the fashion of those in the hands of the pilgrims, but more elaborately
carved. Wooden bowls, spoons, and knives became in great request, though
richly inlaid with silver, according to the fancy or wealth of the
possessor. Medals resembling those stuck by the beggars in their bonnets
were worn as a badge; and the "Gueux penny," as it was called,--a gold
or silver coin,--was hung from the neck, bearing on one side the effigy
of Philip, with the inscription, "_Fidèles au roi_;" and on the other,
two hands grasping a beggar's wallet, with the further legend, "_jusques
à porter la besace_;"--"Faithful to the king, even to carrying the
wallet."[753] Even the garments of the mendicant were affected by the
confederates, who used them as a substitute for their family liveries;
and troops of their retainers, clad in the ash-gray habiliments of the
begging friars, might be seen in the streets of Brussels and the other
cities of the Netherlands.[754]

On the tenth of April, the confederates quitted Brussels, in the orderly
manner in which they had entered it; except that, on issuing from the
gate, they announced their departure by firing a salute in honor of the
city which had given them so hospitable a welcome.[755] Their visit to
Brussels had not only created a great sensation in the capital itself,
but throughout the country. Hitherto the league had worked in darkness,
as it were, like a band of secret conspirators. But they had now come
forward into the light of day, boldly presenting themselves before the
regent, and demanding redress of the wrongs under which the nation was
groaning. The people took heart, as they saw this broad ægis extended
over them to ward off the assaults of arbitrary power. Their hopes grew
stronger, as they became assured of the interposition of the regent and
the great lords in their favor; and they could hardly doubt that the
voice of the country, backed as it was by that of the government, would
make itself heard at Madrid, and that Philip would at length be
compelled to abandon a policy which menaced him with the loss of the
fairest of his provinces.--They had yet to learn the character of their
sovereign.




CHAPTER 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.




CHAPTER 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.




CHAPTER 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.




CHAPTER 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!




BOOK III.




CHAPTER 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]




CHAPTER II.

CRUEL POLICY OF ALVA.

The Council of Blood.--Its Organization.--General Prosecutions.--Civil
War in France.--Departure of Margaret.--Her administration reviewed.

1567.


"Thank God," writes the duke of Alva to his sovereign, on the
twenty-fourth of October, "all is tranquil in the Low Countries."[997]
It was the same sentiment he had uttered a few weeks before. All was
indeed tranquil. Silence reigned throughout the land. Yet it might have
spoken more eloquently to the heart than the murmurs of discontent, or
the loudest tumult of insurrection. "They say many are leaving the
country," he writes in another despatch. "It is hardly worth while to
arrest them. The repose of the nation is not to be brought about by
cutting off the heads of those who are led astray by others."[998]

Yet in less than a week after this, we find a royal ordinance, declaring
that, "whereas his majesty is averse to use rigor towards those who have
taken part in the late rebellion; and would rather deal with them in all
gentleness and mercy,[999] it is forbidden to any one to leave the land,
or to send off his effects, without obtaining a license from the
authorities, under pain of being regarded as having taken part in the
late troubles, and of being dealt with accordingly. All masters and
owners of vessels, who shall aid such persons in their flight, shall
incur the same penalties."[1000] The penalties denounced in this spirit
of "gentleness and mercy," were death and confiscation of property.

That the law was not a dead letter was soon shown by the arrest of ten
of the principal merchants of Tournay, as they were preparing to fly to
foreign parts, and by the immediate confiscation of their estates.[1001]
Yet Alva would have persuaded the world that he, as well as his master,
was influenced only by sentiments of humanity. To the Spanish ambassador
at Rome he wrote, soon after the seizure of the Flemish lords: "I might
have arrested more; but the king is averse to shedding the blood of his
people. I have the same disposition myself.[1002] I am pained to the
bottom of my soul by the necessity of the measure."

But now that the great nobles had come into the snare, it was hardly
necessary to keep up the affectation of lenity; and it was not long
before he threw away the mask altogether. The arm of justice--of
vengeance--was openly raised to strike down all who had offended by
taking part in the late disturbances.

The existing tribunals were not considered as competent to this work.
The regular forms of procedure were too dilatory, and the judges
themselves would hardly be found subservient enough to the will of Alva.
He created, therefore, a new tribunal, with extraordinary powers, for
the sole purpose of investigating the causes of the late disorders, and
for bringing the authors to punishment. It was called originally the
"Council of his Excellency." The name was soon changed for that of the
"Council of Tumults." But the tribunal is better known in history by the
terrible name it received from the people, of the "_Council of
Blood_."[1003]

[Sidenote: THE COUNCIL OF BLOOD.]

It was composed of twelve judges, "the most learned, upright men, and of
the purest lives"--if we may take the duke's word for it--that were to
be found in the country.[1004] Among them were Noircarmes and
Barlaimont, both members of the council of state. The latter was a proud
noble, of one of the most ancient families in the land, inflexible in
his character, and stanch in his devotion to the crown. Besides these
there were the presidents of the councils of Artois and Flanders, the
chancellor of Gueldres, and several jurists of repute in the country.
But the persons of most consideration in the body were two lawyers who
had come in the duke's train from Castile. One of these, the doctor Del
Rio, though born in Bruges, was of Spanish extraction. His most
prominent trait seems to have been unlimited subserviency to the will of
his employer.[1005] The other, Juan de Vargas, was to play the most
conspicuous part in the bloody drama that followed. He was a Spaniard,
and had held a place in the council of the Indies. His character was
infamous; and he was said to have defrauded an orphan ward of her
patrimony.[1006] When he left Spain, two criminal prosecutions are
reported to have been hanging over him. This only made him the more
dependent on Alva's protection. He was a man of great energy of
character, unwearied in application to business, unscrupulous in the
service of his employer, ready at any price to sacrifice to his own
interest, not only every generous impulse, but the common feelings of
humanity. Such, at least, are the dark colors in which he is portrayed
by the writers of a nation which held him in detestation. Yet his very
vices made him so convenient to the duke, that the latter soon bestowed
on him more of his confidence than on any other of his followers;[1007]
and in his correspondence with Philip we perpetually find him commending
Vargas to the monarch's favor, and contrasting his "activity, altogether
juvenile," with the apathy of others of the council.[1008] As Vargas was
unacquainted with Flemish, the proceedings of the court were conducted,
for his benefit, in Latin.[1009] Yet he was such a bungler, even in this
language, that his blunders furnished infinite merriment to the people
of Flanders, who took some revenge for their wrongs in the ridicule of
their oppressor.

As the new court had cognizance of all cases, civil as well as criminal,
which grew out of the late disorders, the amount of business soon
pressed on them so heavily, that it was found expedient to distribute it
into several departments among the different members. Two of the body
had especial charge of the processes of the prince of Orange, his
brother Louis, Hoogstraten, Culemborg, and the rest of William's noble
companions in exile. To Vargas and Del Rio was intrusted the trial of
the Counts Egmont and Hoorne. And two others, Blasere and Hessels, had
the most burdensome and important charge of all such causes as came from
the provinces.[1010]

The latter of these two worthies was destined to occupy a place second
only to that of Vargas on the bloody roll of persecution. He was a
native of Ghent, of sufficient eminence in his profession to fill the
office of attorney-general of his province under Charles the Fifth. In
that capacity he enforced the edicts with so much rigor as to make
himself odious to his countrymen. In the new career now opened to him,
he found a still wider field for his mischievous talents, and he entered
on the duties of his office with such hearty zeal as soon roused general
indignation in the people, who at a later day took terrible vengeance on
their oppressor.[1011]

As soon as the Council of Troubles was organized, commissioners were
despatched into the provinces to hunt out the suspected parties. All who
had officiated as preachers, or had harbored or aided them, who had
joined the consistories, who had assisted in defacing or destroying the
Catholic churches or in building the Protestant, who had subscribed the
Compromise, or who, in short, had taken an active part in the late
disorders, were to be arrested as guilty of treason. In the hunt after
victims informations were invited from every source. Wives were
encouraged to depose against husbands, children against parents. The
prisons were soon full to overflowing, and the provincial and the local
magistrates were busy in filing informations of the different cases,
which were forwarded to the court at Brussels. When deemed of sufficient
importance, the further examination of a case was reserved for the
council itself. But for the most part the local authorities, or a
commission sent expressly for the purpose, were authorized to try the
cause, proceeding even to a definitive sentence, which, with the grounds
of it, they were to lay before the Council of Troubles. The process was
then revised by the committee for the provinces, who submitted the
result of their examination to Vargas and Del Rio. The latter were alone
empowered to vote in the matter; and their sentence, prepared in
writing, was laid before the duke, who reserved to himself the right of
a final decision. This he did, as he wrote to Philip, that he might not
come too much under the direction of the council. "Your majesty well
knows," he concludes, "that gentlemen of the law are unwilling to decide
anything except upon evidence, while measures of state policy are not to
be regulated by the laws."[1012]

It might be supposed that the different judges to whom the prisoner's
case was thus separately submitted for examination, would have afforded
an additional guaranty for his security. But quite the contrary; it only
multiplied the chances of his conviction. When the provincial committee
presented their report to Vargas and Del Rio,--to whom a Spanish jurist,
auditor of the chancery of Valladolid, named Roda, was afterwards
added,--if it proposed sentence of death, these judges declared it "was
right, and that there was no necessity of reviewing the process." If, on
the contrary, a lower penalty was recommended, the worthy ministers of
the law were in the habit of returning the process, ordering the
committee, with bitter imprecations, to revise it more carefully![1013]

[Sidenote: THE COUNCIL OF BLOOD.]

As confiscation was one of the most frequent as well as momentous
penalties adjudged by the Council of Blood, it necessarily involved a
large number of civil actions; for the estate thus forfeited was often
burdened with heavy claims on it by other parties. These were all to be
established before the council. One may readily comprehend how small was
the chance of justice before such a tribunal, where the creditor was one
of the parties, and the crown the other. Even if the suit was decided in
favor of the creditor, it was usually so long protracted, and attended
with such ruinous expense, that it would have been better for him never
to have urged it.[1014]

The jurisdiction of the court, within the limits assigned to it, wholly
superseded that of the great court of Mechlin, as well as of every other
tribunal, provincial or municipal, in the country. Its decisions were
final. By the law of the land, established by repeated royal charters in
the provinces, no man in the Netherlands could be tried by any but a
native judge. But of the present court, one member was a native of
Burgundy, and two were Spaniards.

It might be supposed that a tribunal with such enormous powers, which
involved so gross an outrage on the constitutional rights and
long-established usages of the nation, would at least have been
sanctioned by some warrant from the crown. It could pretend to nothing
of the kind,--not even a written commission from the duke of Alva, the
man who created it. By his voice alone he gave it an existence. The
ceremony of induction into office was performed by the new member
placing his hands between those of the duke, and swearing to remain true
to the faith; to decide in all cases according to his sincere
conviction; finally, to keep secret all the doings of the council, and
to denounce any one who disclosed them.[1015] A tribunal clothed with
such unbounded power, and conducted on a plan so repugnant to all
principles of justice, fell nothing short, in its atrocity, of that
inquisition so much dreaded in the Netherlands.

Alva, in order to be the better able to attend the council, appointed
his own palace for the place of meeting. At first the sittings were held
morning and afternoon, lasting sometimes seven hours in a day.[1016]
There was a general attendance of the members, the duke presiding in
person. After a few months, as he was drawn to a distance by more
pressing affairs, he resigned his place to Vargas. Barlaimont and
Noircarmes, disgusted with the atrocious character of the proceedings,
soon absented themselves from the meetings. The more respectable of the
members imitated their example. One of the body, a Burgundian, a
follower of Granvelle, having criticised the proceedings somewhat too
freely, had leave to withdraw to his own province;[1017] till at length
only three or four councillors remained,--Vargas, Del Rio, Hessels, and
his colleague,--on whom the despatch of the momentous business wholly
devolved. To some of the processes we find not more than three names
subscribed. The duke was as indifferent to forms, as he was to the
rights of the nation.[1018]

It soon became apparent, that, as in most proscriptions, wealth was the
mark at which persecution was mainly directed. At least, if it did not
actually form a ground of accusation, it greatly enhanced the chances of
a conviction. The commissioners sent to the provinces received written
instructions to ascertain the exact amount of property belonging to the
suspected parties. The expense incident to the maintenance of so many
officials, as well as of a large military force, pressed heavily on the
government; and Alva soon found it necessary to ask for support from
Madrid. It was in vain he attempted to obtain a loan from the merchants.
"They refuse," he writes; "to advance a _real_ on the security of the
confiscations, till they see how _the game_ we have begun is likely to
prosper!"[1019]

In another letter to Philip, dated on the twenty-fourth of October,
Alva, expressing his regret at the necessity of demanding supplies, says
that the Low Countries ought to maintain themselves, and be no tax upon
Spain. He is constantly thwarted by the duchess, and by the council of
finance, in his appropriation of the confiscated property. Could he only
manage things in his own way, he would answer for it that the Flemish
cities, uncertain and anxious as to their fate, would readily acquiesce
in the fair means of raising a revenue proposed by the king.[1020] The
ambitious general, eager to secure the sole authority to himself,
artfully touched on the topic which would be most likely to operate with
his master. In a note on this passage, in his own handwriting, Philip
remarked that this was but just; but as he feared that supplies would
never be raised with the consent of the states, Alva must devise some
expedient by which their consent in the matter might be dispensed with,
and communicate it _privately_ to him.[1021] This pregnant thought he
soon after develops more fully in a letter to the duke.[1022]--It is
edifying to observe the cool manner in which the king and his general
discuss the best means for filching a revenue from the pockets of the
good people of the Netherlands.

[Sidenote: GENERAL PROSECUTIONS.]

Margaret,--whose name now rarely appears,--scandalized by the plan
avowed of wholesale persecution, and satisfied that blood enough had
been shed already, would fain have urged her brother to grant a general
pardon. But to this the duke strongly objected. "He would have every
man," he wrote to Philip, "feel that any day his house might fall about
his ears.[1023] Thus private individuals would be induced to pay larger
sums by way of composition for their offences."

As the result of the confiscations, owing to the drains upon them above
alluded to, proved less than he expected, the duke, somewhat later,
proposed a tax of one per cent. on all property, personal and real. But
to this some of the council had the courage to object, as a thing not
likely to be relished by the states. "That depends," said Alva, "on the
way in which they are approached." He had as little love for the
states-general as his master, and looked on applications to them for
money as something derogatory to the crown. "I would take care to ask
for it," he said, "as I did when I wanted money to build the citadel of
Antwerp,--in such a way that they should not care to refuse it."[1024]

The most perfect harmony seems to have subsisted between the king and
Alva in their operations for destroying the liberties of the nation,--so
perfect, indeed, that it could have been the result only of some
previous plan, concerted probably while the duke was in Castile. The
details of the execution were doubtless left, as they arose, to Alva's
discretion. But they so entirely received the royal sanction,--as is
abundantly shown by the correspondence,--that Philip may be said to have
made every act of his general his own. And not unfrequently we find the
monarch improving on the hints of his correspondent by some additional
suggestion.[1025] Whatever evils grew out of the male-administration of
the duke of Alva, the responsibility for the measures rests ultimately
on the head of Philip.

One of the early acts of the new council was to issue a summons to the
prince of Orange, and to each of the noble exiles in his company, to
present themselves at Brussels, and answer the charges against them. In
the summons addressed to William, he was accused of having early
encouraged a spirit of disaffection in the nation; of bringing the
Inquisition into contempt; of promoting the confederacy of the nobles,
and opening his own palace of Breda for their discussions; of
authorizing the exercise of the reformed religion in Antwerp; in fine,
of being at the bottom of the troubles, civil and religious, which had
so long distracted the land. He was required, therefore, under pain of
confiscation of his property and perpetual exile, to present himself
before the council at Brussels within the space of six weeks, and
answer the charges against him. This summons was proclaimed by the
public crier, both in Brussels and in William's own city of Breda; and a
placard containing it was affixed to the door of the principal church in
each of those places.[1026]

Alva followed up this act by another, which excited general indignation
through the country. He caused the count of Buren, William's eldest son,
then a lad pursuing his studies at Louvain, to be removed from the
university, and sent to Spain. His tutor and several of his domestics
were allowed to accompany him. But the duke advised the king to get rid
of these attendants as speedily as possible, and fill their places with
Spaniards.[1027] This unwarrantable act appears to have originated with
Granvelle, who recommends it in one of his letters from Rome.[1028] The
object, no doubt, was to secure some guaranty for the father's
obedience, as well as to insure the loyalty of the heir of the house of
Nassau, and to retain him in the Catholic faith. In the last object the
plan succeeded. The youth was kindly treated by Philip; and his long
residence in Spain nourished in him so strong an attachment to both
Church and crown, that he was ever after divorced from the great cause
in which his father and his countrymen were embarked.

The prince of Orange published to the world his sense of the injury done
to him by this high-handed proceeding of the duke of Alva; and the
university of Louvain boldly sent a committee to the council to
remonstrate on the violation of their privileges. Vargas listened to
them with a smile of contempt, and, as he dismissed the deputation,
exclaimed, "_Non curamus vestros privilegios_,"--an exclamation long
remembered for its bad Latin as well as for its insolence.[1029]

It may well be believed that neither William nor his friends obeyed the
summons of the Council of Blood. The prince, in a reply which was
printed and circulated abroad, denied the authority of Alva to try him.
As a knight of the Golden Fleece, he had a right to be tried by his
peers; as a citizen of Brabant, by his countrymen. He was not bound to
present himself before an incompetent tribunal,--one, moreover, which
had his avowed personal enemy at its head.[1030]

The prince, during his residence in Germany, experienced all those
alleviations of his misfortunes which the sympathy and support of
powerful friends could afford. Among these the most deserving of notice
was William the Wise, a worthy son of the famous old landgrave of Hesse
who so stoutly maintained the Protestant cause against Charles the
Fifth. He and the elector of Saxony, both kinsmen of William's wife,
offered to provide an establishment for the prince, while he remained in
Germany, which, if it was not on the magnificent scale to which he had
been used in the Netherlands, was still not unsuited to the dignity of
his rank.[1031]

[Sidenote: CIVIL WAR IN FRANCE.]

The little court of William received every day fresh accessions from
those who fled from persecution in the Netherlands. They brought with
them appeals to him from his countrymen to interpose in their behalf.
The hour had not yet come. But still he was not idle. He was earnestly
endeavoring to interest the German princes in the cause, was
strengthening his own resources, and steadily, though silently, making
preparation for the great struggle with the oppressors of his country.

While these events were passing in the Netherlands, the neighboring
monarchy of France was torn by those religious dissensions, which, at
this period, agitated, in a greater or less degree, most of the states
of Christendom. One half of the French nation was in arms against the
other half. At the time of our history, the Huguenots had gained a
temporary advantage; their combined forces were beleaguering the
capital, in which the king and Catherine de Medicis, his mother, were
then held prisoners. In this extremity, Catherine appealed to Margaret
to send a body of troops to her assistance. The regent hesitated as to
what course to take, and referred the matter to Alva. He did not
hesitate. He knew Philip's disposition in regard to France, and had
himself, probably, come to an understanding on the subject with the
queen-mother in the famous interview at Bayonne. He proposed to send a
body of three thousand horse to her relief. At the same time he wrote to
Catherine, offering to leave the Low Countries, and march himself to her
support with his whole strength, five thousand horse and fifteen
thousand foot, all his Spanish veterans included, provided she would
bring matters to an issue, and finish at once with the enemies of their
religion. The duke felt how powerfully such a result would react on the
Catholic cause in the Netherlands.

He besought Catherine to come to no terms with the rebels; above all, to
make them no concessions. "Such concessions must, of necessity, be
either spiritual or temporal. If spiritual, they would be opposed to the
rights of God; if temporal, to the rights of the king. Better to reign
over a ruined land, which yet remains true to its God and its king, than
over one left unharmed for the benefit of the Devil and his followers
the heretics."[1032] In this declaration, breathing the full spirit of
religious and political absolutism, may be found the true key to the
policy of Alva and of his master.

Philip heartily approved of the views taken by his general.[1033] As the
great champion of Catholicism, he looked with the deepest interest on
the religious struggle going forward in the neighboring kingdom, which
exercised so direct an influence on the revolutionary movements in the
Netherlands. He strongly encouraged the queen-mother to yield nothing to
the heretics. "With his own person," he declared, "and with all that he
possessed, he was ready to serve the French crown in its contests with
the rebels."[1034] Philip's zeal in the cause was so well understood in
France, that some of the Catholic leaders did not scruple to look to
him, rather than to their own government, as the true head of their
party.[1035]

Catherine de Medicis did not discover the same uncompromising spirit,
and had before this disgusted her royal son-in-law by the politic views
which mingled with her religion. On the present occasion she did not
profit by the brilliant offer made to her by Alva to come in person at
the head of his army. She may have thought so formidable a presence
might endanger the independence of the government. Roman Catholic as she
was at heart, she preferred, with true Italian policy, balancing the
rival factions against each other, to exterminating either of them
altogether. The duke saw that Catherine was not disposed to strike at
the root of the evil, and that the advantages to be secured by success
would be only temporary. He contented himself, therefore, with
despatching a smaller force, chiefly of Flemish troops, under Aremberg.
Before the count reached Paris, the battle of St. Denis had been fought.
Montmorenci fell; but the royal party was victorious. Catherine made a
treaty with the discomfited Huguenots, as favorable to them as if they,
not she, had won the fight. Alva, disgusted with the issue, ordered the
speedy return of Aremberg, whose presence, moreover, was needed, on a
more active theatre of operations.

During all this while Margaret's position afforded a pitiable contrast
to the splendid elevation which she had occupied for so many years as
head of the government. Not only had the actual power passed from her
hands, but she felt that all her influence had gone with it. She hardly
enjoyed even the right of remonstrance. In this position, she had the
advantage of being more favorably situated for criticizing the conduct
of the administration, than when she was herself at the head of it. She
became more sensible of the wrongs of the people,--now that they were
inflicted by other hands than her own. She did not refuse to intercede
in their behalf. She deprecated the introduction of a garrison into the
good city of Brussels. If this were necessary, she still besought the
duke not to allow the loyal inhabitants to be burdened with the
maintenance of the soldiers.[1036] But he turned a deaf ear to her
petition. She urged that, after the chastisement already inflicted on
the nation, the only way to restore quiet was by a general amnesty. The
duke replied, that no amnesty could be so general but there must be some
exceptions, and it would take time to determine who should be excepted.
She recommended that the states be called together to vote the supplies.
He evaded this also by saying it would be necessary first to decide on
the amount of the subsidy to be raised.[1037] The regent felt that in
all matters of real moment she had as little weight as any private
individual in the country.

[Sidenote: DEPARTURE OF MARGARET]

From this state of humiliation she was at last relieved by the return of
her secretary, Machiavelli, who brought with him despatches from Ruy
Gomez, Philip's favorite minister. He informed the duchess that the
king, though, reluctantly, had at last acceded to her request, and
allowed her to resign the government of the provinces. In token of his
satisfaction with her conduct, his majesty had raised the pension which
she had hitherto enjoyed, of eight thousand florins, to fourteen
thousand, to be paid her yearly during the remainder of her life. This
letter was dated on the sixth of October.[1038] Margaret soon after
received one, dated four days later, from Philip himself, of much the
same tenor with that of his minister. The king, in a few words,
intimated the regret he felt at his sister's retirement from office, and
the sense he entertained of the services she had rendered him by her
long and faithful administration.[1039]

The increase of the pension showed no very extravagant estimate of these
services; and the parsimonious tribute which, after his long silence, he
now, in a few brief sentences, paid to her deserts, too plainly
intimated, that all she had done had failed to excite even a feeling of
gratitude in the bosom of her brother.[1040] At the same time with the
letter to Margaret came a commission to the duke of Alva, investing him
with the title of regent and governor-general, together with all the
powers that had been possessed by his predecessor.[1041]

Margaret made only one request of Philip previous to her departure. This
he denied her. Her father, Charles the Fifth, at the time of his
abdication, had called the states-general together, and taken leave of
them in a farewell address, which was still cherished as a legacy by his
subjects. Margaret would have imitated his example. The grandeur of the
spectacle pleased her imagination; and she was influenced, no doubt, by
the honest desire of manifesting, in the hour of separation, some
feelings of a kindly nature for the people over whom she had ruled for
so many years.

But Philip, as we have seen, had no relish for these meetings of the
states. He had no idea of consenting to them on an emergency no more
pressing than the present. Margaret was obliged, therefore, to
relinquish the pageant, and to content herself with taking leave of the
people by letters addressed to the principal cities of the provinces. In
these she briefly touched on the difficulties which had lain in her
path, and on the satisfaction which she felt at having, at length,
brought the country to a state of tranquillity and order. She besought
them to remain always constant in the faith in which they had been
nurtured, as well as in their loyalty to a prince so benign and merciful
as the king, her brother. In so doing the blessing of Heaven would rest
upon them; and for her own part, she would ever be found ready to use
her good offices in their behalf.[1042]

She proved her sincerity by a letter written to Philip, before her
departure, in which she invoked his mercy in behalf of his Flemish
subjects. "Mercy," she said, "was a divine attribute. The greater the
power possessed by a monarch, the nearer he approached the Deity, and
the more should he strive to imitate the divine clemency and
compassion.[1043] His royal predecessors had contented themselves with
punishing the leaders of sedition, while they spared the masses who
repented. Any other course would confound the good with the bad, and
bring such calamities on the country as his majesty could not fail to
appreciate."[1044]--Well had it been for the fair fame of Margaret, if
her counsels had always been guided by such wise and magnanimous
sentiments.

The tidings of the regent's abdication were received with dismay
throughout the provinces. All the errors of her government, her acts of
duplicity, the excessive rigor with which she had of late visited
offences,--all were forgotten in the regret felt for her departure. Men
thought only of the prosperity which the country had enjoyed under her
rule, the confidence which in earlier years she had bestowed on the
friends of the people, the generous manner in which she had interposed,
on more than one occasion, to mitigate the hard policy of the court of
Madrid. And as they turned from these more brilliant passages of her
history, their hearts were filled with dismay while they looked gloomily
into the future.

Addresses poured in upon her from all quarters. The different cities
vied with one another in expressions of regret for her departure, while
they invoked the blessings of Heaven on her remaining days. More than
one of the provinces gave substantial evidence of their good-will by
liberal donatives. Brabant voted her the sum of twenty-five thousand
florins, and Flanders, thirty thousand.[1045] The neighboring princes,
and among them Elizabeth of England, joined with the people of the
Netherlands in professions of respect for the regent, as well as of
regret that she was to relinquish the government.[1046]

Cheered by these assurances of the consideration in which she was held
both at home and abroad, Margaret quitted Brussels at the close of
December, 1567. She was attended to the borders of Brabant by Alva, and
thence conducted to Germany, by Count Mansfeldt and an escort of Flemish
nobles.[1047] There bidding adieu to all that remained of her former
state, she pursued her journey quietly to Italy. For some time she
continued with her husband in his ducal residence at Parma. But,
wherever lay the fault, it was Margaret's misfortune to taste but little
of the sweets of domestic intercourse. Soon afterwards she removed to
Naples, and there permanently established her abode on estates which had
been granted her by the crown. Many years later, when her son, Alexander
Farnese, was called to the government of the Netherlands, she quitted
her retirement to take part with him in the direction of public affairs.
It was but for a moment; and her present departure from the Netherlands
may be regarded as the close of her political existence.

[Sidenote: HER ADMINISTRATION REVIEWED.]

The government of Margaret continued from the autumn of 1559 to the end
of 1567, a period of eight years. It was a stormy and most eventful
period; for it was then that the minds of men were agitated to their
utmost depths by the new doctrines which gave birth to the revolution.
Margaret's regency, indeed, may be said to have furnished the opening
scenes of that great drama. The inhabitants of the Low Countries were
accustomed to the sway of a woman. Margaret was the third of her line
that had been intrusted with the regency. In qualifications for the
office she was probably not inferior to her predecessors. Her long
residence in Italy had made her acquainted with the principles of
government in a country where political science was more carefully
studied than in any other quarter of Europe. She was habitually
industrious; and her robust frame was capable of any amount of labor. If
she was too masculine in her nature to allow of the softer qualities of
her sex, she was, on the other hand, exempt from the fondness for
pleasure and from most of the frivolities which belonged to the women of
the voluptuous clime in which she had lived. She was stanch in her
devotion to the Catholic faith; and her loyalty was such, that, from the
moment of assuming the government, she acknowledged no stronger motive
than that of conformity to the will of her sovereign. She was fond of
power; and she well knew that, with Philip, absolute conformity to his
will was the only condition on which it was to be held.

With her natural good sense, and the general moderation of her views,
she would, doubtless, have ruled over the land as prosperously as her
predecessors, had the times been like theirs. But, unhappily for her,
the times had greatly changed. Still Margaret, living on the theatre of
action, and feeling the pressure of circumstances, would have gone far
to conform to the change. But unfortunately she represented a prince,
dwelling at a distance, who knew no change himself, allowed no
concessions to others,--whose conservative policy rested wholly on the
past.

It was unfortunate for Margaret, that she never fully possessed the
confidence of Philip. Whether from distrust of her more accommodating
temper, or of her capacity for government, he gave a larger share of it,
at the outset, to Granvelle than to her. If the regent could have been
blind to this, her eyes would soon have been opened to the fact by the
rivals who hated the minister. It was not long before she hated him too.
But the removal of Granvelle did not establish her in her brother's
confidence. It rather increased his distrust, by the necessity it
imposed on her of throwing herself into the arms of the opposite party,
the friends of the people. From this moment Philip's confidence was more
heartily bestowed on the duke of Alva, even on the banished Granvelle,
than on the regent. Her letters remained too often unanswered. The
answers, when they did come, furnished only dark and mysterious hints of
the course to be pursued. She was left to work out the problem of
government by herself, sure for every blunder to be called to a strict
account. Rumors of the speedy coming of the king suggested the idea that
her own dominion was transitory, soon to be superseded by that of a
higher power.

Under these disadvantages she might well have lost all reliance on
herself. She was not even supplied with the means of carrying out her
own schemes. She was left without money, without arms, without the power
to pardon,--more important, with a brave and generous race, than the
power to punish. Thus, destitute of resources, without the confidence of
her employer, with the people stoutly demanding concessions on the one
side, with the sovereign sternly refusing them on the other, it is
little to say that Margaret was in a false position: her position was
deplorable. She ought not to have remained in it a day after she found
that she could not hold it with honor. But Margaret was too covetous of
power readily to resign it. Her misunderstanding with her husband made
her, moreover, somewhat dependent on her brother.

At last came the Compromise and the league. Margaret's eyes seemed now
to be first opened to the direction of the course she was taking. This
was followed by the explosion of the iconoclasts. The shock fully awoke
her from her delusion. She was as zealous for the Catholic Church as
Philip himself; and she saw with horror that it was trembling to its
foundations. A complete change seemed to take place in her
convictions,--in her very nature. She repudiated all those with whom she
had hitherto acted. She embraced, as heartily as he could desire, the
stern policy of Philip. She proscribed, she persecuted, she
punished,--and that with an excess of rigor that does little honor to
her memory. It was too late. The distrust of Philip was not to be
removed by this tardy compliance with his wishes. A successor was
already appointed; and at the very moment when she flattered herself
that the tranquillity of the country and her own authority were
established on a permanent basis, the duke of Alva was on his march
across the mountains.

Yet it was fortunate for Margaret's reputation that she was succeeded in
the government by a man like Alva. The darkest spots on her
administration became light when brought into comparison with his reign
of terror. From this point of view it has been criticized by the writers
of her own time and those of later ages.[1048] And in this way,
probably, as the student who ponders the events of her history may
infer, a more favorable judgment has been passed upon her actions than
would be warranted by a calm and deliberate scrutiny.




CHAPTER III.

REIGN OF TERROR.

Numerous Arrests.--Trials and Executions.--Confiscations.--Orange
assembles an Army.--Battle of Heyligerlee.--Alva's Proceedings.

1568.


In the beginning of 1568, Philip, if we may trust the historians,
resorted to a very extraordinary measure for justifying to the world his
rigorous proceedings against the Netherlands. He submitted the case to
the Inquisition at Madrid; and that ghostly tribunal, after duly
considering the evidence derived from the information of the king and of
the inquisitors in the Netherlands, came to the following decision. All
who had been guilty of heresy, apostasy, or sedition, and all, moreover,
who, though professing themselves good Catholics, had offered no
resistance to these, were, with the exception of a few specified
individuals, thereby convicted of treason in the highest degree.[1049]

[Sidenote: NUMEROUS ARRESTS.]

This sweeping judgment was followed by a royal edict, dated on the same
day, the sixteenth of February, in which, after reciting the language of
the Inquisition, the whole nation, with the exception above stated, was
sentenced, without distinction of sex or age, to the penalties of
treason,--death and confiscation of property; and this, the decree went
on to say, "without any hope of grace whatever, that it might serve for
an example and a warning to all future time!"[1050]

It is difficult to give credit to a story so monstrous, repeated though
it has been by successive writers without the least distrust of its
correctness. Not that anything can be too monstrous to be believed of
the Inquisition. But it is not easy to believe that a sagacious prince
like Philip the Second, however willing he might be to shelter himself
under the mantle of the Holy Office, could have lent himself to an act
as impolitic as it was absurd; one that, confounding the innocent with
the guilty, would drive both to desperation,--would incite the former,
from a sense of injury, to take up rebellion, by which there was nothing
more to lose, and the latter to persist in it, since there was nothing
more to hope.[1051]

The messenger who brought to Margaret the royal permission to resign the
regency delivered to Alva his commission as captain-general of the
Netherlands. This would place the duke, as Philip wrote to him, beyond
the control of the council of finance, in the important matter of the
confiscations.[1052] It raised him, indeed, not only above that council,
but above every other council in the country. It gave him an authority
not less than that of the sovereign himself. And Alva prepared to
stretch this to an extent greater than any sovereign of the Netherlands
had ever ventured on. The time had now come to put his terrible
machinery into operation. The regent was gone, who, if she could not
curb, might at least criticize his actions. The prisons were full; the
processes were completed. Nothing remained but to pass sentence and to
execute.

On the fourth of January, 1568, we find eighty-four persons sentenced to
death at Valenciennes, on the charge of having taken part in the late
movements,--religious or political.[1053] On the twentieth of February,
ninety-five persons were arraigned before the Council of Blood, and
thirty-seven capitally convicted.[1054] On the twentieth of March
thirty-five more were condemned.[1055] The governor's emissaries were
out in every direction. "I heard that preaching was going on at
Antwerp," he writes to Philip; "and I sent my own provost there, for I
cannot trust the authorities. He arrested a good number of heretics.
They will never attend another such meeting. The magistrates complain
that the interference of the provost was a violation of their
privileges. The magistrates may as well take it patiently."[1056] The
pleasant manner in which the duke talks over the fate of his victims
with his master may remind one of the similar dialogues between Petit
André and Louis the Eleventh, in "Quentin Durward."

The proceedings in Ghent may show the course pursued in the other
cities. Commissioners were sent to that capital, to ferret out the
suspected. No than a hundred and forty-seven were summoned before the
council at Brussels. Their names were cried about the streets, and
posted up in placards on the public buildings. Among them were many
noble and wealthy individuals. The officers were particularly instructed
to ascertain the wealth of the parties. Most of the accused contrived to
make their escape. They preferred flight to the chance of an acquittal
by the bloody tribunal,--though flight involved certain banishment and
confiscation of property. Eighteen only answered the summons by
repairing to Brussels. They were all arrested on the same day, at their
lodgings, and, without exception, were sentenced to death! Five or six
of the principal were beheaded. The rest perished on the gallows.[1057]

[Sidenote: TRIALS AND EXECUTIONS.]

Impatient of what seemed to him a too tardy method of following up his
game, the duke determined on a bolder movement, and laid his plans for
driving a goodly number of victims into the toils at once. He fixed on
Ash Wednesday for the time,--the beginning of Lent, when men, after the
Carnival was past, would be gathered soberly in their own
dwellings.[1058] The officers of justice entered their premises at dead
of night; and no less than five hundred citizens were dragged from their
beds and hurried off to prison.[1059] They all received sentence of
death![1060] "I have reiterated the sentence again and again," he writes
to Philip, "for they torment me with inquiries whether in this or that
case it might not be commuted for banishment. They weary me of my life
with their importunities."[1061] He was not too weary, however, to go on
with the bloody work; for in the same letter we find him reckoning that
three hundred heads more must fall before it will be time to talk of a
general pardon.[1062]

It was common, says an old chronicler, to see thirty or forty persons
arrested at once. The wealthier burghers might be seen, with their arms
pinioned behind them, dragged at the horse's tail to the place of
execution.[1063] The poorer sort were not even summoned to take their
trial in Brussels. Their cases were despatched at once, and they were
hung up, without further delay, in the city or in the suburbs.[1064]

Brandt, in his History of the Reformation, has collected many
particulars respecting the persecution, especially in his own province
of Holland, during that "reign of terror." Men of lower consideration,
when dragged to prison, were often cruelly tortured on the rack, to
extort confessions, implicating themselves or their friends. The modes
of death adjudged by the bloody tribunal were various. Some were
beheaded with the sword,--a distinction reserved, as it would seem, for
persons of condition. Some were sentenced to the gibbet, and others to
the stake.[1065] This last punishment, the most dreadful of all, was
confined to the greater offenders against religion. But it seems to have
been left much to the caprice of the judges, sometimes even of the
brutal soldiery who superintended the executions. At least we find the
Spanish soldiers, on one occasion, in their righteous indignation,
throwing into the flames an unhappy Protestant preacher whom the court
had sentenced to the gallows.[1066]

The soldiers of Alva were many of them veterans who had borne arms
against the Protestants under Charles the Fifth,--comrades of the men
who at that very time were hunting down the natives of the New World,
and slaughtering them by thousands in the name of religion. With them
the sum and substance of religion were comprised in a blind faith in the
Romish Church, and in uncompromising hostility to the heretic. The life
of the heretic was the most acceptable sacrifice that could be offered
to Jehovah. With hearts thus seared by fanaticism, and made callous by
long familiarity with human suffering, they were the very ministers to
do the bidding of such a master as the duke of Alva.

The cruelty of the persecutors was met by an indomitable courage on the
part of their victims. Most of the offences were, in some way or other,
connected with religion. The accused were preachers, or had aided and
comforted the preachers, or had attended their services, or joined the
consistories, or afforded evidence, in some form, that they had espoused
the damnable doctrines of heresy. It is precisely in such a case, where
men are called to suffer for conscience' sake, that they are prepared to
endure all,--to die in defence of their opinions. The storm of
persecution fell on persons of every condition; men and women, the
young, the old, the infirm and helpless. But the weaker the party, the
more did the spirit rise to endure his sufferings. Many affecting
instances are recorded of persons who, with no support but their trust
in heaven, displayed the most heroic fortitude in the presence of their
judges, and, by the boldness with which they asserted their opinions,
seemed even to court the crown of martyrdom. On the scaffold and at the
stake this intrepid spirit did not desert them; and the testimony they
bore to the truth of the cause for which they suffered had such an
effect on the bystanders, that it was found necessary to silence them. A
cruel device for more effectually accomplishing this was employed by the
officials. The tip of the tongue was seared with a red-hot iron, and the
swollen member then compressed between two plates of metal screwed fast
together. Thus gagged, the groans of the wretched sufferer found vent in
strange sounds, that excited the brutal merriment of his
tormentors.[1067]

But it is needless to dwell longer on the miseries endured by the people
of the Netherlands in this season of trial. Yet, if the cruelties
perpetrated in the name of religion are most degrading to humanity, they
must be allowed to have called forth the most sublime spectacle which
humanity can present,--that of the martyr offering up his life on the
altar of principle.

It is difficult--in fact, from the data in my possession, not
possible--to calculate the number of those who fell by the hand of the
executioner in this dismal persecution.[1068] The number, doubtless, was
not great as compared with the population of the country,--not so great
as we may find left, almost every year of our lives, on a single
battle-field. When the forms of legal proceedings are maintained, the
movements of justice--if the name can be so profaned--are comparatively
tardy. It is only, as in the French Revolution, when thousands are swept
down by the cannon, or whole cargoes of wretched victims are plunged at
once into the waters, that death moves on with the gigantic stride of
pestilence and war.

[Sidenote: CONFISCATIONS.]

But the amount of suffering from such a persecution is not to be
estimated merely by the number of those who have actually suffered
death, when the fear of death hung like a naked sword over every man's
head. Alva had expressed to Philip the wish that every man, as he lay
down at night, or as he rose in the morning, "might feel that his house,
at any hour, might fall and crush him!"[1069] This humane wish was
accomplished. Those who escaped death had to fear a fate scarcely less
dreadful, in banishment and confiscation of property. The persecution
very soon took this direction; and persecution when prompted by avarice
is even more odious than when it springs from fanaticism, which,
however degrading in itself, is but the perversion of the religious
principle.

Sentence of perpetual exile and confiscation was pronounced at once
against all who fled the country.[1070] Even the dead were not spared;
as is shown by the process instituted against the marquis of Bergen, for
the confiscation of his estates on the charge of treason. That nobleman
had gone with Montigny, as the reader may remember, on his mission to
Madrid, where he had recently died,--more fortunate than his companion,
who survived for a darker destiny. The duke's emissaries were everywhere
active in making inventories of the property of the suspected parties.
"I am going to arrest some of the richest and worst offenders," writes
Alva to his master, "and bring them to a pecuniary composition."[1071]
He shall next proceed, he says, against the delinquent cities. In this
way a round sum will flow into his majesty's coffers.[1072] The victims
of this class were so numerous, that we find a single sentence of the
council sometimes comprehending eighty or a hundred individuals. One
before me, in fewer words than are taken up by the names of the parties,
dooms no less than a hundred and thirty-five inhabitants of Amsterdam to
confiscation and exile.[1073]

One may imagine the distress brought on this once flourishing country by
this wholesale proscription; for besides the parties directly
interested, there was a host of others incidentally affected,--hospitals
and charitable establishments, widows and helpless orphans, now reduced
to want by the failure of the sources which supplied them with their
ordinary subsistence.[1074] Slow and sparing must have been the justice
doled out to such impotent creditors, when they preferred their claims
to a tribunal like the Council of Blood! The effect was soon visible in
the decay of trade and the rapid depopulation of the towns.
Notwithstanding the dreadful penalties denounced against fugitives,
great numbers, especially from the border states, contrived to make
their escape. The neighboring districts of Germany opened their arms to
the wanderers; and many a wretched exile from the northern provinces,
flying across the frozen waters of the Zuyder Zee, found refuge within
the hospitable walls of Embden.[1075] Even in an inland city like Ghent,
half the houses, if we may credit the historian, were abandoned.[1076]
Not a family was there, he says, but some of its members had tasted the
bitterness of exile or of death.[1077] "The fury of persecution," writes
the prince of Orange, "spreads such horror throughout the nation, that
thousands, and among them some of the principal Papists, have fled a
country where tyranny seems to be directed against all, without
distinction of faith."[1078]

Yet in a financial point of view the results did not keep pace with
Alva's wishes. Notwithstanding the large amount of the confiscations,
the proceeds, as he complains to Philip, were absorbed in so many ways,
especially by the peculation of his agents, that he doubted whether the
expense would not come to more than the profits![1079] He was equally
dissatisfied with the conduct of other functionaries. The commissioners
sent into the provinces, instead of using their efforts to detect the
guilty, seemed disposed, he said, rather to conceal them. Even the
members of the Council of Troubles manifested so much apathy in their
vocation, as to give him more annoyance than the delinquents
themselves![1080] The only person who showed any zeal in the service was
Vargas. He was worth all the others of the council put together.[1081]
The duke might have excepted from this sweeping condemnation Hessels,
the lawyer of Ghent, if the rumors concerning him were true. This worthy
councillor, it is said, would sometimes fall asleep in his chair, worn
out by the fatigue of trying causes and signing death-warrants. In this
state, when suddenly called on to pronounce the doom of the prisoner, he
would cry out, half awake, and rubbing his eyes, "_Ad patibulum! Ad
patibulum!_"--"To the gallows! To the gallows!"[1082]

[Sidenote: RESULTS.]

But Vargas was after the duke's own heart. Alva was never weary of
commending his follower to the king. He besought Philip to interpose in
his behalf, and cause three suits which had been brought against that
functionary to be suspended during his absence from Spain. The king
accordingly addressed the judge on the subject. But the magistrate (his
name should have been preserved) had the independence to reply, that
"justice must take its course, and could not be suspended from favor to
any one." "Nor would I have it so," answered Philip, (it is the king who
tells it;) "I would do only what is possible to save the interests of
Vargas from suffering by his absence." In conclusion he tells the duke,
that Vargas should give no heed to what is said of the suits, since he
must be assured, after the letter he has received under the royal hand,
that his sovereign fully approves his conduct.[1083] But if Vargas, by
his unscrupulous devotion to the cause, won the confidence of his
employers, he incurred, on the other hand, the unmitigated hatred of the
people,--a hatred deeper, it would almost seem, than even that which
attached to Alva; owing perhaps to the circumstance that, as the
instrument for the execution of the duke's measures, Vargas was brought
more immediately in contact with the people than the duke himself.

As we have already seen, many, especially of those who dwelt in the
border provinces, escaped the storm of persecution by voluntary exile.
The suspected parties would seem to have received, not unfrequently,
kindly intimations from the local magistrates of the fate that menaced
them.[1084] Others, who lived in the interior, were driven to more
desperate courses. They banded together in considerable numbers, under
the name of the "wild _Gueux_,"--"_Gueux sauvages_,"--and took refuge in
the forests, particularly of West Flanders. Thence they sallied forth,
fell upon unsuspecting travellers, especially the monks and
ecclesiastics, whom they robbed, and sometimes murdered. Occasionally
they were so bold as to invade the monasteries and churches, stripping
them of their rich ornaments, their plate and other valuables, when,
loaded with booty, they hurried back to their fastnesses. The evil
proceeded to such a length, that the governor-general was obliged to
order out a strong force to exterminate the banditti, while at the same
time he published an edict, declaring that every district should be held
responsible for the damage done to property within its limits by these
marauders.[1085]

It might be supposed that, under the general feeling of resentment
provoked by Alva's cruel policy, his life would have been in constant
danger from the hand of the assassin. Once, indeed, he had nearly fallen
a victim to a conspiracy headed by two brothers, men of good family in
Flanders, who formed a plan to kill him while attending mass at an abbey
in the neighborhood of Brussels.[1086] But Alva was not destined to fall
by the hand of violence.

We may well believe that wise and temperate men, like Viglius, condemned
the duke's proceedings as no less impolitic than cruel. That this
veteran councillor did so is apparent from his confidential letters,
though he was too prudent to expose himself to Alva's enmity by openly
avowing it.[1087] There were others, however,--the princes of Germany,
in particular,--who had no such reasons for dissembling, and who carried
their remonstrances to a higher tribunal than that of the
governor-general.

On the second of March, 1568, the Emperor Maximilian, in the name of the
electors, addressed a letter to Philip, in behalf of his oppressed
subjects in the Netherlands. He reminded the king that he had already
more than once, and in most affectionate terms, interceded with him for
a milder and more merciful policy towards his Flemish subjects. He
entreated his royal kinsman to reflect whether it were not better to
insure the tranquillity of the state by winning the hearts of his
people, than by excessive rigor to drive them to extremity. And he
concluded by intimating that, as a member of the Germanic body, the
Netherlands had a right to be dealt with in that spirit of clemency
which was conformable to the constitutions of the empire.[1088]

Although neither the arguments nor the importunity of Maximilian had
power to shake the constancy of Philip, he did not refuse to enter into
some explanation, if not vindication, of his conduct. "What I have
done," he replied, "has been for the repose of the provinces, and for
the defence of the Catholic faith. If I had respected justice less, I
should have despatched the whole business in a single day. No one
acquainted with the state of affairs will find reason to censure my
severity. Nor would I do otherwise than I have done, though I should
risk the sovereignty of the Netherlands,--no, though the world should
fall in ruins around me!"[1089]--Such a reply effectually closed the
correspondence.

The wretched people of the Netherlands, meanwhile, now looked to the
prince of Orange as the only refuge left them, under Providence. Those
who fled the country, especially persons of higher condition, gathered
round his little court at Dillemburg, where they were eagerly devising
plans for the best means of restoring freedom to their country. They
brought with them repeated invitations from their countrymen to William
that he would take up arms in their defence. The Protestants of Antwerp,
in particular, promised that, if he would raise funds by coining his
plate, they would agree to pay him double the value of it.[1090]

William had no wish nearer his heart than that of assuming the
enterprise. But he knew the difficulties that lay in the way, and, like
a wise man, he was not disposed to enter on it till he saw the means of
carrying it through successfully. To the citizens of Antwerp he
answered, that not only would he devote his plate, but his person and
all that he possessed, most willingly, for the freedom of religion and
of his country.[1091] But the expenses of raising a force were
great,--at the very least, six hundred thousand florins; nor could he
now undertake to procure that amount, unless some of the principal
merchants, whom he named, would consent to remain with him as
security.[1092]

In the mean time he was carrying on an extensive correspondence with the
German princes, with the leaders of the Huguenot party in France, and
even with the English government,--endeavoring to propitiate them to the
cause, as one in which every Protestant had an interest. From the
elector of Saxony and the landgrave of Hesse he received assurances of
aid. Considerable sums seem to have been secretly remitted from the
principal towns in the Low Countries; while Culemborg, Hoogstraten,
Louis of Nassau, and the other great lords who shared his exile,
contributed as largely as their dilapidated fortunes would allow.[1093]
The prince himself parted with his most precious effects, pawning his
jewels, and sending his plate to the mint,--"the fit ornaments of a
palace," exclaims an old writer, "but yielding little for the
necessities of war."[1094]

[Sidenote: ORANGE ASSEMBLES AN ARMY]

By these sacrifices a considerable force was assembled before the end of
April, consisting of the most irregular and incongruous materials. There
were German mercenaries, who had no interest in the cause beyond their
pay; Huguenots from France, who brought into the field a hatred of the
Roman Catholics which made them little welcome, even as allies, to a
large portion of the Netherlands; and, lastly, exiles from the
Netherlands,--the only men worthy of the struggle,--who held life cheap
in comparison with the great cause to which they devoted it. But these,
however strong in their patriotism, were for the most part simple
burghers untrained to arms, and ill fitted to cope with the hardy
veterans of Castile.

Before completing his levies, the prince of Orange, at the suggestion of
his friend, the landgrave of Hesse, prepared and published a document,
known as his "Justification," in which he vindicated himself and his
cause from the charges of Alva. He threw the original blame of the
troubles on Granvelle, denied having planned or even promoted the
confederacy of the nobles, and treated with scorn the charge of having,
from motives of criminal ambition, fomented rebellion in a country where
he had larger interests at stake than almost any other inhabitant. He
touched on his own services, as well as those of his ancestors, and the
ingratitude with which they had been requited by the throne. And in
conclusion, he prayed that his majesty might at length open his eyes to
the innocence of his persecuted subjects, and that it might be made
apparent to the world that the wrongs inflicted on them had come from
evil counsellors rather than himself.[1095]

The plan of the campaign was, to distract the duke's attention, and, if
possible, create a general rising in the country, by assailing it on
three several points at once. A Huguenot corps, under an adventurer
named Cocqueville, was to operate against Artois. Hoogstraten, with the
lord of Villers, and others of the banished nobles, were to penetrate
the country in a central direction through Brabant. While William's
brothers, the Counts Louis and Adolphus, at the head of a force, partly
Flemish, partly German, were to carry the war over the northern borders,
into Groningen; the prince himself, who established his head-quarters in
the neighborhood of Cleves, was busy in assembling a force prepared to
support any one of the divisions, as occasion might require.

It was the latter part of April, before Hoogstraten and Louis took the
field. The Huguenots ware still later; and William met with difficulties
which greatly retarded the formation of his own corps. The great
difficulty--one which threatened to defeat the enterprise at its
commencement--was the want of money, equally felt in raising troops and
in enforcing discipline among them when they were raised. "If you have
any love for me," he writes to his friend, the "wise" landgrave of
Hesse, "I beseech you to aid me privately with a sum sufficient to meet
the pay of the troops for the first month. Without this I shall be in
danger of failing in my engagements,--to me worse than death; to say
nothing of the ruin which such a failure must bring on our credit and on
the cause."[1096] We are constantly reminded, in the career of the
prince of Orange, of the embarrassments under which our own Washington
labored in the time of the Revolution, and of the patience and
unconquerable spirit which enabled him to surmount them.

Little need be said of two of the expeditions, which were failures.
Hoogstraten had scarcely crossed the frontier, towards the end of April,
when he was met by Alva's trusty lieutenant, Sancho Davila, and beaten,
with considerable loss. Villers and some others of the rebel lords, made
prisoners, escaped the sword of the enemy in the field, to fall by that
of the executioner in Brussels. Hoogstraten, with the remnant of his
forces, made good his retreat, and effected a junction with the prince
of Orange.[1097]

Cocqueville met with a worse fate. A detachment of French troops was
sent against him by Charles the Ninth, who thus requited the service of
the same kind he had lately received from the duke of Alva. On the
approach of their countrymen, the Huguenots basely laid down their arms.
Cocqueville and his principal officers were surrounded, made prisoners,
and perished ignominiously on the scaffold.[1098]

The enterprise of Louis of Nassau was attended with different results.
Yet after he had penetrated into Groningen, he was sorely embarrassed by
the mutinous spirit of the German mercenaries. The province was defended
by Count Aremberg, its governor, a brave old officer, who had studied
the art of war under Charles the Fifth; one of those models of chivalry
on whom the men of a younger generation are ambitious to form
themselves. He had been employed on many distinguished services; and
there were few men at the court of Brussels who enjoyed higher
consideration under both Philip and his father. The strength of his
forces lay in his Spanish infantry. He was deficient in cavalry, but was
soon to be reinforced by a body of horse under Count Megen, who was a
day's march in his rear.

Aremberg soon came in sight of Louis, who was less troubled by the
presence of his enemy than by the disorderly conduct of his German
soldiers, clamorous for their pay. Doubtful of his men, Louis declined
to give battle to a foe so far superior to him in everything but
numbers. He accordingly established himself in an uncommonly strong
position, which the nature of the ground fortunately afforded. In his
rear, protected by a thick wood, stood the convent of Heyligerlee, which
gave its name to the battle. In front the land sloped towards an
extensive morass. His infantry, on the left, was partly screened by a
hill from the enemy's fire; and on the right he stationed his cavalry,
under the command of his brother Adolphus, who was to fall on the
enemy's flank, should they be hardy enough to give battle.

[Sidenote: BATTLE OF HEYLIGERLEE.]

But Aremberg was too well acquainted with the difficulties of the ground
to risk an engagement, at least till he was strengthened by the
reinforcement under Megen. Unfortunately, the Spanish infantry,
accustomed to victory, and feeling a contempt for the disorderly levies
opposed to them, loudly called to be led against the heretics. In vain
their more prudent general persisted in his plan. They chafed at the
delay, refusing to a Flemish commander the obedience which they might
probably have paid to one of their own nation. They openly accused him
of treachery, and of having an understanding with his countrymen in the
enemy's camp. Stung by their reproaches, Aremberg had the imprudence to
do what more than one brave man has been led to do, both before and
since; he surrendered his own judgment to the importunities of his
soldiers. Crying out that "they should soon see if he were a
traitor!"[1099] he put himself at the head of his little army, and
marched against the enemy. His artillery, meanwhile, which he had posted
on his right, opened a brisk fire on Louis's left wing, where, owing to
the nature of the ground, it did little execution.

Under cover of this fire the main body of the Spanish infantry moved
forward; but, as their commander had foreseen, the men soon became
entangled in the morass; their ranks were thrown into disorder; and when
at length, after long and painful efforts, they emerged on the firm
ground, they were more spent with toil than they would have been after a
hard day's march. Thus jaded, and sadly in disarray, they were at once
assailed in front by an enemy who, conscious of his own advantage, was
all fresh and hot for action. Notwithstanding their distressed
condition, Aremberg's soldiers maintained their ground for some time,
like men unaccustomed to defeat. At length, Louis ordered the cavalry on
his right to charge Aremberg's flank. This unexpected movement,
occurring at a critical moment, decided the day. Assailed in front and
in flank, hemmed in by the fatal morass in the rear, the Spaniards were
thrown into utter confusion. In vain their gallant leader, proof against
danger, though not against the taunts of his followers, endeavored to
rally them. His horse was killed under him; and as he was mounting
another, he received a shot from a foot-soldier, and fell mortally
wounded from his saddle.[1100] The rout now became general. Some took to
the morass, and fell into the hands of the victors. Some succeeded in
cutting their way through the ranks of their assailants, while many more
lost their lives in the attempt. The ground was covered with the wounded
and the dead. The victory was complete.

Sixteen hundred of the enemy were left on that fatal field. In the
imagination of the exile thirsting for vengeance, it might serve in some
degree to balance the bloody roll of victims whom the pitiless duke had
sent to their account. Nine pieces of artillery, with a large quantity
of ammunition and military stores, a rich service of plate belonging to
Aremberg, and a considerable sum of money lately received by him to pay
the arrears of the soldiers, fell into the hands of the patriots. Yet as
serious a loss as any inflicted on the Spaniards was that of their
brave commander. His corpse, disfigured by wounds, was recognized, amid
a heap of the slain, by the insignia of the Golden Fleece, which he wore
round his neck, and which Louis sent to the prince, his brother, as a
proud trophy of his victory.[1101] The joy of the conquerors was dimmed
by one mournful event, the death of Count Adolphus of Nassau, who fell
bravely fighting at the head of his troops, one of the first victims in
the war of the revolution. He was a younger brother of William, only
twenty-seven years of age. But he had already given promise of those
heroic qualities which proved him worthy of the generous race from which
he sprung.[1102]

The battle was fought on the twenty-third of May, 1568. On the day
following, Count Megen arrived with a reinforcement; too late to secure
the victory, but not, as it proved, too late to snatch the fruits of it
from the victors. By a rapid movement, he succeeded in throwing himself
into the town of Groningen, and thus saved that important place from
falling into the hands of the patriots.[1103]

The tidings of the battle of Heyligerlee caused a great sensation
through the country. While it raised the hopes of the malecontents, it
filled the duke of Alva with indignation,--the greater as he perceived
that the loss of the battle was to be referred mainly to the misconduct
of his own soldiers. He saw with alarm the disastrous effect likely to
be produced by so brilliant a success on the part of the rebels, in the
very beginning of the struggle. The hardy men of Friesland would rise to
assert their independence. The prince of Orange, with his German levies,
would unite with his victorious brother, and, aided by the inhabitants,
would be in condition to make formidable head against any force that
Alva could muster. It was an important crisis, and called for prompt and
decisive action. The duke, with his usual energy, determined to employ
no agent here, but to take the affair into his own hands, concentrate
his forces, and march in person against the enemy.

[Sidenote: ALVA's PROCEEDINGS.]

Yet there were some things he deemed necessary to be done, if it were
only for their effect on the public mind, before entering on the
campaign. On the twenty-eighth of May, sentence was passed on the prince
of Orange, his brother Louis, and their noble companions. They were
pronounced guilty of contumacy in not obeying the summons of the
council, and of levying war against the king. For this they were
condemned to perpetual banishment, and their estates confiscated to the
use of the crown. The sentence was signed by the duke of Alva.[1104]
William's estates had been already sequestrated, and a body of Spanish
troops was quartered in his town of Breda.

Another act, of a singular nature, intimated pretty clearly the
dispositions of the government. The duke caused the Hôtel de Culemborg,
where he had fixed his own residence before the regent's departure, and
where the Gueux had held their meetings on coming to Brussels, to be
levelled with the ground. On the spot a marble column was raised,
bearing on each side of the base the following inscription: "Here once
stood the mansion of Florence Pallant,"--the name of the count of
Culemborg,--"now razed to the ground for the execrable conspiracy
plotted therein against religion, the Roman Catholic Church, the king's
majesty, and the country."[1105] Alva by this act intended doubtless to
proclaim to the world, not so much his detestation of the
confederacy--that would have been superfluous--as his determination to
show no mercy to those who had taken part in it. Indeed, in his letters,
on more than one occasion, he speaks of the signers of the Compromise as
men who had placed themselves beyond the pale of mercy.

But all these acts were only the prelude to the dismal tragedy which was
soon to be performed. Nearly nine months had elapsed since the arrest of
the Counts Egmont and Hoorne. During all this time they had remained
prisoners of state, under a strong guard, in the castle of Ghent. Their
prosecution had been conducted in a deliberate, and indeed dilatory
manner, which had nourished in their friends the hope of a favorable
issue. Alva now determined to bring the trial to a close,--to pass
sentence of death on the two lords, and to carry it into execution
before departing on his expedition.

It was in vain that some of his counsellors remonstrated on the
impolicy, at a crisis like the present, of outraging the feelings of the
nation, by whom Egmont in particular was so much beloved. In vain they
suggested that the two nobles would serve as hostages for the good
behavior of the people during his absence, since any tumult must only
tend to precipitate the fate of the prisoners.[1106] Whether it was that
Alva distrusted the effect on his master of the importunities, from
numerous quarters, in their behalf; or, what is far more likely, that he
feared lest some popular rising, during his absence, might open the
gates to his prisoners, he was determined to proceed at once to their
execution. His appetite for vengeance may have been sharpened by
mortification at the reverse his arms had lately experienced; and he may
have felt that a blow like the present would be the most effectual to
humble the arrogance of the nation.

There were some other prisoners of less note, but of no little
consideration, who remained to be disposed of. Their execution would
prepare the public mind for the last scene of the drama. There were
nineteen persons who, at this time, lay in confinement in the castle of
Vilvoorde, a fortress of great strength, two leagues distant from
Brussels. They were chiefly men of rank, and for the most part members
of the Union. For these latter, of course, there was no hope. Their
trials were now concluded, and they were only waiting their sentences.
On the ominous twenty-eighth of May, a day on which the Council of Blood
seems to have been uncommonly alert, they were all, without exception,
condemned to be beheaded, and their estates were confiscated to the
public use.

On the first of June, they were brought to Brussels, having been
escorted there by nine companies of Spanish infantry, were conducted to
the great square in front of the Hôtel de Ville, and, while the drums
beat to prevent their last words from reaching the ears of the
by-standers, their heads were struck off by the sword of the
executioner. Eight of the number, who died in the Roman Catholic faith,
were graciously allowed the rites of Christian burial. The heads of the
remaining eleven were set upon poles, and their bodies left to rot upon
the gibbet, like those of the vilest malefactors.[1107]

On the second of June, ten or twelve more, some of them persons of
distinction, perished on the scaffold, in the same square in Brussels.
Among these was Villers, the companion of Hoogstraten in the ill-starred
expedition to Brabant, in which he was made prisoner. Since his
captivity he had made some disclosures respecting the measures of Orange
and his party, which might have entitled him to the consideration of
Alva. But he had signed the Compromise.

On the following day, five other victims were led to execution within
the walls of Vilvoorde, where they had been long confined. One of these
has some interest for us, Casembrot, lord of Backerzele, Egmont's
confidential secretary. That unfortunate gentleman had been put to the
rack more than once, to draw from him disclosures to the prejudice of
Egmont. But his constancy proved stronger than the cruelty of his
persecutors. He was now to close his sufferings by an ignominious death;
so far fortunate, however, that it saved him from witnessing the fate of
his beloved master.[1108] Such were the gloomy scenes which ushered in
the great catastrophe of the fifth of June.

[Sidenote: THE EXAMINATION.]




CHAPTER IV.

TRIALS OF EGMONT AND HOORNE.

The Examination.--Efforts in their Behalf.--Specification of
Charges.--Sentence of Death.--The Processes reviewed.

1568.


Nine months had now elapsed since the Counts Egmont and Hoorne had been
immured within the strong citadel of Ghent. During their confinement
they had met with even less indulgence than was commonly shown to
prisoners of state. They were not allowed to take the air of the castle,
and were debarred from all intercourse with the members of their
families. The sequestration of their property at the time of their
arrest had moreover reduced them to such extreme indigence, that but for
the care of their friends they would have wanted the common necessaries
of life.[1109]

During this period their enemies had not been idle. We have seen, at the
time of the arrest of the two nobles, that their secretaries and their
private papers had been also seized. "Backerzele," writes the duke of
Alva to Philip, "makes disclosures every day respecting his master Count
Egmont. When he is put to the torture, wonders may be expected from him
in this way!"[1110] But all that the rack extorted from the unhappy man
was some obscure intimation respecting a place in which Egmont had
secreted a portion of his effects. After turning up the ground in every
direction round the castle of Ghent, the Spaniards succeeded in
disinterring eleven boxes filled with plate, and some caskets of jewels,
and other precious articles,--all that now remained of Egmont's once
splendid fortune.[1111]

Meanwhile commissioners were sent into the provinces placed under the
rule of the two noblemen to collect information respecting their
government. The burgomasters of the towns were closely questioned, and,
where they showed reluctance, were compelled by menaces to answer. But
what Alva chiefly relied on was the examination of the prisoners
themselves.

On the twelfth of November, 1567, a commission composed of Vargas, Del
Rio, and the secretary Pratz, proceeded to Ghent, and began a personal
examination of Egmont. The interrogatories covered the whole ground of
the recent troubles. They were particularly directed to ascertain
Egmont's relations with the reformed party, but above all, his
connection with the confederates,--the offence of deepest dye in the
view of the commissioners. The examination continued through five days;
and a record, signed and sworn to by the several parties, furnished the
basis of the future proceedings against the prisoner. A similar course
was then taken in regard to Hoorne.[1112]

In the mean time the friends of the two nobles were making active
exertions in their behalf. Egmont, as we have already seen, was married
to a German princess, Sabina, sister of the elector of Bavaria,--a lady
who, from her rank, the charm of her manners, and her irreproachable
character, was the most distinguished ornament of the court of Brussels.
She was the mother of eleven children, the eldest of them still of
tender age. Surrounded by this numerous and helpless family, thus
suddenly reduced from affluence to miserable penury, the countess became
the object of general commiseration. Even the stern heart of Alva seems
to have been touched, as he notices her "lamentable situation," in one
of his letters to Philip.[1113]

The unhappy lady was fortunate in securing the services of Nicolas de
Landas, one of the most eminent jurists of the country, and a personal
friend of her husband. In her name, he addressed letters to several of
the German princes, and to the Emperor Maximilian, requesting their good
offices in behalf of her lord. He also wrote both to Alva and the king,
less to solicit the release of Egmont--a thing little to be
expected--than to obtain the removal of the cause from the Council of
Blood to a court consisting of the knights of the Golden Fleece. To this
both Egmont and Hoorne had a good claim, as belonging to that order, the
statutes of which, solemnly ratified by Philip himself, guarantied to
its members the right of being tried only by their peers. The frank and
independent tone with which the Flemish jurist, himself also one of the
order, and well skilled in the law, urged this claim on the Spanish
monarch, reflects honor on his memory.

Hoorne's wife, also a German lady of high connection, and his
step-mother, the countess-dowager, were unwearied in their exertions in
his behalf. They wrote to the knights of the Golden Fleece, in whatever
country residing, and obtained their written testimony to the
inalienable right of the accused to be tried by his brethren.[1114] This
was obviously a point of the last importance, since a trial by the
Council of Blood was itself equivalent to a condemnation.

Several of the electors, as well as other princes of the empire,
addressed Philip directly on the subject, beseeching him to deal with
the two nobles according to the statutes of the order. Maximilian wrote
two letters to the same purpose; and, touching on the brilliant services
of Egmont, he endeavored to excite the king's compassion for the
desolate condition of the countess and her children.[1115]

[Sidenote: SPECIFICATION OF CHARGES.]

But it was not foreigners only who interceded in behalf of the lords.
Mansfeldt, than whom Philip had not a more devoted subject in the
Netherlands, implored his sovereign to act conformably to justice and
reason in the matter.[1116] Count Barlaimont, who on all occasions had
proved himself no less stanch in his loyalty, found himself now in an
embarrassing situation,--being both a knight of the order and a member
of the Council of Troubles. He wrote accordingly to Philip, beseeching
his majesty to relieve him from the necessity of either acting like a
disloyal subject or of incurring the reproaches of his brethren.[1117]

Still more worthy of notice is the interference of Cardinal Granvelle,
who, forgetting his own disgrace, for which he had been indebted to
Egmont perhaps as much as to any other person, now generously interceded
in behalf of his ancient foe. He invoked the clemency of Philip, as more
worthy of a great prince than rigor. He called to mind the former good
deeds of the count, and declared, if he had since been led astray, the
blame was chargeable on others rather than on himself.[1118] But
although the cardinal wrote more than once to the king in this strain,
it was too late to efface the impression made by former communications,
in which he had accused his rival of being a party to the treasonable
designs of the prince of Orange.[1119] This impression had been deepened
by the reports from time to time received from the regent, who at one
period, as we have seen, withdrew her confidence altogether from Egmont.
Thus the conviction of that nobleman's guilt was so firmly settled in
the king's mind, that, when Alva received the government of the
Netherlands, there can be little doubt that Egmont was already marked
out as the first great victim to expiate the sins of the nation. The
arguments and entreaties, therefore, used on the present occasion to
dissuade Philip from his purpose, had no other effect than to quicken
his movements. Anxious to rid himself of importunities so annoying, he
ordered Alva to press forward the trial, adding, at the same time, that
all should be made so clear that the world, whose eyes were now turned
on these proceedings, might be satisfied of their justice.[1120]

Before the end of December the attorney-general Du Bois had prepared the
articles of accusation against Egmont. They amounted to no less than
ninety, some of them of great length. They chiefly rested on evidence
derived from the personal examination, sustained by information gathered
from other quarters. The first article, which, indeed, may be said to
have been the key to all the rest, charged Egmont with having conspired
with William and the other banished lords to shake off the Spanish rule,
and divide the government among themselves. With this view he had made
war on the faithful Granvelle, had sought to concentrate the powers of
the various councils into one, had resisted the Inquisition, had urged
the meeting of the states-general, in short, had thwarted, as far as
possible, in every particular, the intentions of the king. He was
accused, moreover, of giving encouragement to the sectaries. He had not
only refused his aid when asked to repress their violence, but had
repeatedly licensed their meetings, and allowed them to celebrate their
religious rites. Egmont was too stanch a Catholic to warrant his own
faith being called into question. It was only in connection with the
political movements of the country that he was supposed to have
countenanced the party of religious reform. Lastly he was charged, not
only with abetting the confederacy of the nobles, but with having, in
conjunction with the prince of Orange and his associates, devised the
original plan of it. It was proof of the good-will he bore the league,
that he had retained in his service more than one member of his
household after they had subscribed the Compromise. On these various
grounds, Egmont was declared to be guilty of treason.[1121]

The charges, which cover a great space, would seem at the first glance
to be crudely put together, confounding things trivial, and even
irrelevant to the question, with others of real moment.[1122] Yet they
must be admitted to have been so cunningly prepared as to leave an
impression most unfavorable to the innocence of the prisoner. The
attorney-general, sometimes audaciously perverting the answers of
Egmont,[1123] at other times giving an exaggerated importance to his
occasional admissions, succeeded in spreading his meshes so artfully,
that it required no slight degree of coolness and circumspection, even
in an innocent party, to escape from them.

The instrument was delivered to Egmont on the twenty-ninth of December.
Five days only were allowed him to prepare his defence,--and that too
without the aid of a friend to support, or of counsel to advise him. He
at first resolutely declined to make a defence at all, declaring that he
was amenable to no tribunal but that of the members of the order. Being
informed, however, that if he persisted he would be condemned for
contumacy, he consented, though with a formal protest against the
proceeding as illegal, to enter on his defence.

He indignantly disclaimed the idea of any design to subvert the existing
government. He admitted the charges in regard to his treatment of
Granvelle, and defended his conduct on the ground of expediency,--of its
being demanded by the public interest. On the same ground he explained
his course in reference to some of the other matters charged on him, and
especially in relation to the sectaries,--too strong in numbers, he
maintained, to be openly resisted. He positively denied the connection
imputed to him with the confederates; declaring that, far from
countenancing the league, he had always lamented its existence, and
discouraged all within his reach from joining it. In reply to the charge
of not having dismissed Backerzele after it was known that he had joined
the confederates, he excused himself by alleging the good services which
his secretary had rendered the government, more especially in repressing
the disorders of the iconoclasts. On the whole, his answers seem to have
been given in good faith, and convey the impression--probably not far
from the truth--of one who, while he did not approve of the policy of
the crown, and thought, indeed, some of its measures impracticable, had
no design to overturn the government.[1124]

[Sidenote: DEFENCE OF THE PRISONERS.]

The attorney-general next prepared his accusation of Count Hoorne,
consisting of sixty-three separate charges. They were of much the same
import with those brought against Egmont. The bold, impatient temper of
the admiral made him particularly open to the assault of his enemies.
He was still more peremptory than his friend in his refusal to
relinquish his rights as a knight of the Golden Fleece, and appear
before the tribunal of Alva. When prevailed on to waive his scruples,
his defence was couched in language so direct and manly as at once
engages our confidence. "Unskilled as I am in this sort of business," he
remarks, "and without the aid of counsel to guide me, if I have fallen
into errors, they must be imputed, not to intention, but to the want of
experience.... I can only beseech those who shall read my defence to
believe that it has been made sincerely and in all truth, as becomes a
gentleman of honorable descent."[1125]

By the remonstrances of the prisoners and their friends, the duke was at
length prevailed on to allow them counsel. Each of the two lords
obtained the services of five of the most eminent jurists of the
country; who, to their credit, seem not to have shrunk from a duty
which, if not attended with actual danger, certainly did not lie in the
road to preferment.[1126]

The counsel of the two lords lost no time in preparing the defence of
their clients, taking up each charge brought against them by the
attorney-general, and minutely replying to it. Their defence was
substantially the same with that which had been set up by the prisoners
themselves, though more elaborate, and sustained by a greater array both
of facts and arguments.[1127] Meanwhile the counsel did not remit their
efforts to have the causes brought before the tribunal of the _Toison
d'Or_. Unless this could be effected, they felt that all endeavors to
establish the innocence of their clients would be unavailing.

Alva had early foreseen the embarrassment to which he would be exposed
on this ground. He had accordingly requested Philip to stop all further
solicitations by making known his own decision in the matter.[1128] The
king in reply assured the duke that men of authority and learning, to
whom the subject had been committed, after a full examination, entirely
confirmed the decision made before Alva's departure, that the case of
treason did not come within the cognizance of the _Toison d'Or_.[1129]
Letters patent accompanied this note, empowering the duke to try the
cause.[1130] With these credentials Alva now strove to silence, if not
to satisfy, the counsel of the prisoners; and, by a formal decree, all
further applications for transferring the cause from his own
jurisdiction to that of the Golden Fleece were peremptorily forbidden.

Yet all were not to be thus silenced. Egmont's countess still continued
unwearied in her efforts to excite a sympathy in her lord's behalf in
all those who would be likely to have any influence with the government.
Early in 1568 she again wrote to Philip, complaining that she had not
been allowed so much as to see her husband. She implored the king to
take her and her children as sureties for Egmont, and permit him to be
removed to one of his own houses. If that could not be, she begged that
he might at least be allowed the air of the castle, lest, though
innocent, his confinement might cost him his life. She alludes to her
miserable condition, with her young and helpless family, and trusts in
the king's goodness and justice that she shall not be forced to seek a
subsistence in Germany, from which country she had been brought to
Flanders by his father the emperor.[1131] The letter, says a chronicler
of the time, was not to be read by any one without sincere commiseration
for the writer.[1132]

The German princes, at the same time, continued their intercessions with
the king for both the nobles; and the duke of Bavaria, and the duke and
duchess of Lorraine, earnestly invoked his clemency in their behalf.
Philip, wearied by this importunity but not wavering in his purpose,
again called on Alva to press the trial to a conclusion.[1133]

Towards the end of April, 1568, came that irruption across the borders
by Hoogstraten and the other lords, described in the previous chapter.
Alva, feeling probably that his own presence might be required to check
the invaders, found an additional motive for bringing the trials to a
decision.

On the sixth of May, the attorney-general presented a remonstrance
against the dilatory proceedings of Egmont's counsel, declaring that,
although so many months had elapsed, they had neglected to bring forward
their witnesses in support of their defence. He prayed that a day might
be named for the termination of the process.[1134]

[Sidenote: SENTENCE OF DEATH.]

In the latter part of May, news came of the battle won by Louis of
Nassau in the north. That now became certain which had before been only
probable,--that Alva must repair in person to the seat of war, and
assume the command of the army. There could be no further delay. On the
first of June, a decree was published declaring that the time allowed
for the defence of the prisoners had expired, and that no evidence could
henceforth be admitted.[1135] The counsel for the accused loudly
protested against a decision which cut them off from all means of
establishing the innocence of their clients. They had abundant testimony
at hand, they said, and had only waited until the government should have
produced theirs. This was plausible, as it was in the regular course for
the prosecuting party to take precedence. But one can hardly doubt that
the wary lawyers knew that too little was to be expected from a tribunal
like the Council of Blood to wish to have the case brought to a
decision. By delaying matters, some circumstance might occur,--perhaps
some stronger expression of the public sentiment,--to work a favorable
change in the mind of the king. Poor as it was, this was the only chance
for safety; and every day that the decision was postponed was a day
gained to their clients.

But no time was given for expostulation. On the day on which Alva's
decree was published, the affair was submitted to the decision of the
Council of Blood; and on the following morning, the second of June, that
body--or rather Vargas and Del Rio, the only members who had a voice in
the matter--pronounced both the prisoners guilty of treason, and doomed
them to death. The sentence was approved by Alva.

On the evening of the fourth, Alva went in person to the meeting of the
council. The sentences of the two lords, each under a sealed envelope,
were produced, and read aloud by the secretary. They were both of
precisely the same import. After the usual preamble, they pronounced the
Counts Egmont and Hoorne to have been proved parties to the abominable
league and conspiracy of the prince of Orange and his associates; to
have given aid and protection to the confederates; and to have committed
sundry malepractices in their respective governments in regard to the
sectaries, to the prejudice of the holy Catholic faith. On these grounds
they were adjudged guilty of treason and rebellion, and were sentenced
accordingly to be beheaded with the sword, their heads to be set upon
poles, and there to continue during the pleasure of the duke; their
possessions, fiefs, and rights, of every description, to be confiscated
to the use of the crown.[1136] These sentences were signed only with the
name of Alva, and countersigned with that of the secretary Pratz.[1137]

Such was the result of these famous trials, which, from the peculiar
circumstances that attended them, especially their extraordinary
duration and the illustrious characters and rank of the accused, became
an object of general interest throughout Europe. In reviewing them, the
first question that occurs is in regard to the validity of the grounds
on which the causes were removed from the jurisdiction of the _Toison
d'Or_. The decision of the "men of authority and learning," referred to
by the king, is of little moment considering the influences under which
such a decision in the court of Madrid was necessarily given. The only
authority of any weight in favor of this interpretation seems to have
been that of the president Viglius; a man well versed in the law, with
the statutes of the order before him, and, in short, with every facility
at his command for forming an accurate judgment in the matter.

His opinion seems to have mainly rested on the fact that, in the year
1473, a knight of the order, charged with a capital crime, submitted to
be tried by the ordinary courts of law. But, on the other hand, some
years later, in 1490, four knights accused of treason, the precise crime
alleged against Egmont and Hoorne, were arraigned and tried before the
members of the _Toison_. A more conclusive argument against Viglius was
afforded by the fact, that in 1531 a law was passed, under the Emperor
Charles the Fifth, that no knight of the Golden Fleece could be arrested
or tried, for any offence whatever, by any other body than the members
of his own order. This statute was solemnly confirmed by Philip himself
in 1550; and no law, surely, could be devised covering more effectually
the whole ground in question. Yet Viglius had the effrontery to set this
aside as of no force, being so clearly in contempt of all precedents and
statutes. A subterfuge like this, which might justify the disregard of
any law whatever, found no favor with the members of the order. Arschot
and Barlaimont, in particular, the most devoted adherents of the crown,
and among the few knights of the _Toison_ then in Brussels, openly
expressed their dissent. The authority of a jurist like Viglius was of
great moment, however, to the duke, who did not fail to parade it.[1138]
But sorely was it to the disgrace of that timid and time-serving
councillor, that he could thus lend himself, and in such a cause, to
become the tool of arbitrary power. It may well lead us to give easier
faith than we should otherwise have done to those charges of peculation
and meanness which the regent, in the heat of party dissensions, so
liberally heaped on him.[1139]

But whatever may be thought of the rights possessed by the _Toison d'Or_
in this matter, there can be no doubt as to the illegality of the court
before which the cause was brought;--a court which had no warrant for
its existence but the will of Alva; where the judges, contrary to the
law of the land, were foreigners; where the presiding officer was not
even necessarily present at the trial of the causes on which he alone
was to pass sentence.

[Sidenote: THE PROCESSES REVIEWED.]

If so little regard was paid to the law in the composition of this
tribunal, scarcely more was shown to it in the forms of proceeding. On
the present occasion it does not appear that any evidence was brought
forward by the prisoners. And as we are in possession of only a small
part of that which sustained the prosecution, it is not easy to form an
opinion how far the parties were or were not guilty of the crime
imputed to them; still less whether that crime, according to the laws of
the land, amounted to treason.[1140] The gravest charge made, with any
apparent foundation, was that of a secret understanding with the
confederates. The avowed object of the confederates was, in certain
contingencies, to resist the execution of a particular ordinance;[1141]
but without any design to overturn the government. This, by our law,
could hardly be construed into treason. But in the Netherlands, in the
time of the Spanish rule, the law may have been more comprehensive in
its import; nor is it likely that the word "treason" was limited in so
explicit a manner as by the English statute-book under the
Plantagenets.[1142]

We have information of a curious document of the time, that may throw
light on the matter. Peter d'Arset, president of Artois, was one of the
original members of the Council of Troubles, but had retired from office
before the trial of the two lords. It may have been from the high
judicial station he held in one of Egmont's provinces, that he was
consulted in regard to that nobleman's process. After an examination of
the papers, he returned an answer, written in Latin, at great length,
and with a purity of style that shows him to have been a scholar. In
this, he goes over the whole ground of the accusation, article by
article, showing the insufficiency of proof on every charge, and by
argument and legal reference fully establishing the innocence of the
accused. The president's opinion, so independently given, we may readily
believe, found too little favor with the duke of Alva to be cited as
authority.[1143]

But even though it were true that the two lords, in that season of
public excitement, had been seduced from their allegiance for a time,
some charity might have been shown to men who had subsequently broken
with their former friends, and displayed the utmost zeal in carrying out
the measures of the government; a zeal in the case of Egmont, at least,
which drew from the regent unqualified commendation.[1144] Something
more might have been conceded to the man who had won for his sovereign
the most glorious trophies of his reign. But Philip's nature, unhappily,
as I have had occasion to notice, was of that sort which is more
sensible to injuries than to benefits.

Under the circumstances attending this trial, it may seem to have been a
waste of time to inquire into the legality of the court which tried the
cause, or the regularity of the forms of procedure. The real trial took
place, not in Flanders, but in Castile. Who can doubt that, long before
the duke of Alva began his march, the doom of the two nobles had been
pronounced in the cabinet of Madrid?[1145]




CHAPTER V.

EXECUTION OF EGMONT AND HOORNE.

The Counts removed to Brussels.--Informed of the Sentence.--Procession
to the Scaffold.--The Execution.--Character of Egmont.--Fate of his
Family.--Sentiment of the People.

1568.


On the second of June, 1568, a body of three thousand men was ordered to
Ghent to escort the Counts Egmont and Hoorne to Brussels. No resistance
was offered, although the presence of the Spaniards caused a great
sensation among the inhabitants of the place, who too well foreboded the
fate of their beloved lord.

[Sidenote: INFORMED OF THE SENTENCE.]

The nobles, each accompanied by two officers, were put into separate
chariots. They were guarded by twenty companies of pikemen and
arquebusiers; and a detachment of lancers, among whom was a body of the
duke's own horse, rode in the van, while another of equal strength
protected the rear. Under this strong escort they moved slowly towards
Brussels. One night they halted at Dendermonde, and towards evening, on
the fourth of the month, entered the capital.[1146] As the martial array
defiled through its streets, there was no one, however stout-hearted he
might be, says an eye-witness, who could behold the funeral pomp of the
procession, and listen to the strains of melancholy music, without a
feeling of sickness at his heart.[1147]

The prisoners were at once conducted to the _Brodhuys_, or
"Bread-House," usually known as the _Maison du Roi_,--that venerable
pile in the market-place of Brussels, still visited by every traveller
for its curious architecture, and yet more as the last resting-place of
the Flemish lords. Here they were lodged in separate rooms, small, dark,
and uncomfortable, and scantily provided with furniture. Nearly the
whole of the force which had escorted them to Brussels was established
in the great square, to defeat any attempt at a rescue. But none was
made; and the night passed away without disturbance, except what was
occasioned by the sound of busy workmen employed in constructing a
scaffold for the scene of execution on the following day.[1148]

On the afternoon of the fourth, the duke of Alva had sent for Martin
Rithovius, bishop of Ypres; and, communicating to him the sentence of
the nobles, he requested the prelate to visit the prisoners, acquaint
them with their fate, and prepare them for their execution on the
following day. The bishop, an excellent man, and the personal friend of
Egmont, was astounded by the tidings. He threw himself at Alva's feet,
imploring mercy for the prisoners, and, if he could not spare their
lives, beseeching him at least to grant them more time for preparation.
But Alva sternly rebuked the prelate, saying that he had been summoned,
not to thwart the execution of the law, but to console the prisoners,
and enable them to die like Christians.[1149] The bishop, finding his
entreaties useless, rose and addressed himself to his melancholy
mission.

It was near midnight when he entered Egmont's apartment, where he found
the poor nobleman, whose strength had been already reduced by
confinement, and who was wearied by the fatigue of the journey, buried
in slumber. It is said that the two lords, when summoned to Brussels,
had indulged the vain hope that it was to inform them of the conclusion
of their trial and their acquittal![1150] However this may be, Egmont
seems to have been but ill prepared for the dreadful tidings he
received. He turned deadly pale as he listened to the bishop, and
exclaimed, with deep emotion: "It is a terrible sentence. Little did I
imagine that any offence I had committed against God or the king could
merit such a punishment. It is not death that I fear. Death is the
common lot of all. But I shrink from dishonor. Yet I may hope that my
sufferings will so far expiate my offences, that my innocent family will
not be involved in my ruin by the confiscation of my property. Thus
much, at least, I think I may claim in consideration of my past
services." Then, after a pause, he added, "Since my death is the will of
God and his majesty, I will try to meet it with patience."[1151] He
asked the bishop if there were no hope. On being answered, "None
whatever," he resolved to devote himself at once to preparing for the
solemn change.

He rose from his couch, and hastily dressed himself. He then made his
confession to the prelate, and desired that mass might be said, and the
sacrament administered to him. This was done with great solemnity; and
Egmont received the communion in the most devout manner, manifesting the
greatest contrition for his sins. He next inquired of the bishop to what
prayer he could best have recourse to sustain him in this trying hour.
The prelate recommended to him that prayer which our Saviour had
commended to his disciples. The advice pleased the count, who earnestly
engaged in his devotions. But a host of tender recollections crowded on
his mind; and the images of his wife and children drew his thoughts in
another direction, till the kind expostulations of the prelate again
restored him to himself.

Egmont asked whether it would be well to say anything on the scaffold
for the edification of the people. But the bishop discouraged him,
saying that he would be imperfectly heard, and that the people, in their
present excitement, would be apt to misinterpret what he said to their
own prejudice.

Having attended to his spiritual concerns, Egmont called for writing
materials, and wrote a letter to his wife, whom he had not seen during
his long confinement; and to her he now bade a tender farewell. He then
addressed another letter, written in French, in a few brief and touching
sentences, to the king,--which fortunately has been preserved to us.
"This morning," he says, "I have been made acquainted with the sentence
which it has pleased your majesty to pass upon me. And although it has
never been my intent to do aught against the person or the service of
your majesty, or against our true, ancient, and Catholic faith, yet I
receive in patience what it has pleased God to send me.[1152] If during
these troubles I have counselled or permitted aught which might seem
otherwise, I have done so from a sincere regard for the service of God
and your majesty, and from what I believed the necessity of the times.
Wherefore I pray your majesty to pardon it, and for the sake of my past
services to take pity on my poor wife, my children, and my servants. In
this trust, I commend myself to the mercy of God." The letter is dated
Brussels, "on the point of death," June 5, 1568.[1153]

[Sidenote: PROCESSION TO THE SCAFFOLD.]

Having time still left, the count made a fair copy of the two letters,
and gave them to the bishop, entreating him to deliver them according to
their destination. He accompanied that to Philip with a ring, to be
given at the same time to the monarch.[1154] It was of great value; and
as it had been the gift of Philip himself during the count's late visit
to Madrid, it might soften the heart of the king by reminding him of
happier days, when he had looked with an eye of favor on his unhappy
vassal.

Having completed all his arrangements, Egmont became impatient for the
hour of his departure; and he expressed the hope that there would be no
unnecessary delay.[1155] At ten in the morning the soldiers appeared who
were to conduct him to the scaffold. They brought with them cords, as
usual, to bind the prisoner's hands. But Egmont remonstrated, and showed
that he had, himself, cut off the collar of his doublet and shirt, in
order to facilitate the stroke of the executioner. This he did to
convince them that he meditated no resistance; and on his promising that
he would attempt none, they consented to his remaining with his hands
unbound.

Egmont was dressed in a crimson damask robe, over which was a Spanish,
mantle fringed with gold. His breeches were of black silk; and his hat,
of the same material, was garnished with white and sable plumes.[1156]
In his hand, which, as we have seen, remained free, he held a white
handkerchief. On his way to the place of execution, he was accompanied
by Julian de Romero, _maître de camp_, by the captain, Salinas, who had
charge of the fortress of Ghent, and by the bishop of Ypres. As the
procession moved slowly forward, the count repeated some portion of the
fifty-first psalm,--"Have mercy on me, O God!"--in which the good
prelate joined with him. In the centre of the square, on the spot where
so much of the best blood of the Netherlands has been shed, stood the
scaffold, covered with black cloth. On it were two velvet cushions with
a small table, shrouded likewise in black, and supporting a silver
crucifix. At the corners of the platform were two poles, pointed at the
end with steel, intimating the purpose for which they were
intended.[1157]

In front of the scaffold was the provost of the court, mounted on
horseback and bearing the red wand of office in his hand.[1158] The
executioner remained, as usual, below the platform, screened from view,
that he might not, by his presence before it was necessary, outrage the
feelings of the prisoners.[1159] The troops, who had been under arms
all night, were drawn up around in order of battle; and strong bodies of
arquebusiers were posted in the great avenues which led to the square.
The space left open by the soldiery was speedily occupied by a crowd of
eager spectators. Others thronged the roofs and windows of the buildings
that surrounded the market-place, some of which, still standing at the
present day, show, by their quaint and venerable architecture, that they
must have looked down on the tragic scene we are now depicting.

It was indeed a gloomy day for Brussels,--so long the residence of the
two nobles, where their forms were as familiar, and where they were held
in as much love and honor as in any of their own provinces. All business
was suspended. The shops were closed. The bells tolled in all the
churches. An air of gloom, as of some impending calamity, settled on the
city. "It seemed," says one residing there at the time, "as if the day
of judgment were at hand!"[1160]

As the procession slowly passed through the ranks of the soldiers,
Egmont saluted the officers--some of them his ancient companions--with
such a sweet and dignified composure in his manner as was long
remembered by those who saw it. And few even of the Spaniards could
refrain from tears, as they took their last look at the gallant noble
who was to perish by so miserable an end.[1161]

With a steady step he mounted the scaffold, and, as he crossed it, gave
utterance to the vain wish, that, instead of meeting such a fate, he had
been allowed to die in the service of his king and country.[1162] He
quickly, however, turned to other thoughts, and, kneeling on one of the
cushions, with the bishop beside him on the other, he was soon engaged
earnestly in prayer. With his eyes raised towards Heaven with a look of
unutterable sadness,[1163] he prayed so fervently and loud as to be
distinctly heard by the spectators. The prelate, much affected, put into
his hands the silver crucifix, which Egmont repeatedly kissed; after
which, having received absolution for the last time, he rose and made a
sign to the bishop to retire. He then stripped off his mantle and robe;
and again kneeling, he drew a silk cap, which he had brought for the
purpose, over his eyes, and repeating the words, "Into thy hands, O
Lord, I commend my spirit," he calmly awaited the stroke of the
executioner.

[Sidenote: THEIR LAST MOMENTS.]

The low sounds of lamentation, which from time to time had been heard
among the populace, were now hushed into silence,[1164] as the minister
of justice appearing on the platform, approached his victim, and with a
single blow of the sword severed the head from the body. A cry of horror
rose from the multitude, and some frantic with grief, broke through the
ranks of the soldiers, and wildly dipped their handkerchiefs in the
blood that streamed from the scaffold, treasuring them up, says the
chronicler, as precious memorials of love and incitements to
vengeance.[1165]--The head was then set on one of the poles at the end
of the platform, while a mantle thrown over the mutilated trunk hid it
from the public gaze.[1166]

It was near noon, when orders were sent to lead forth the remaining
prisoner to execution. It had been assigned to the curate of La Chapelle
to acquaint Count Hoorne with his fate. That nobleman received the awful
tidings with less patience than was shown by his friend. He gave way to
a burst of indignation at the cruelty and injustice of the sentence. It
was a poor requital, he said, for eight and twenty years of faithful
services to his sovereign. Yet, he added, he was not sorry to be
released from a life of such incessant fatigue.[1167] For some time he
refused to confess, saying he had done enough in the way of
confession.[1168] When urged not to throw away the few precious moments
that were left to him, he at length consented.

The count was dressed in a plain suit of black, and wore a Milanese cap
upon his head. He was, at this time, about fifty years of age. He was
tall, with handsome features, and altogether of a commanding
presence.[1169] His form was erect, and as he passed with a steady step
through the files of soldiers, on his way to the place of execution, he
frankly saluted those of his acquaintance whom he saw among the
spectators. His look had in it less of sorrow than of indignation, like
that of one conscious of enduring wrong. He was spared one pang, in his
last hour, which had filled Egmont's cup with bitterness; though, like
him, he had a wife, he was to leave no orphan family to mourn him.

As he trod the scaffold, the apparatus of death seemed to have no power
to move him. He still repeated the declaration, that, "often as he had
offended his Maker, he had never, to his knowledge, committed any
offence against the king." When his eyes fell on the bloody shroud that
enveloped the remains of Egmont, he inquired if it were the body of his
friend. Being answered in the affirmative, he made some remark in
Castilian, not understood. He then prayed for a few moments, but in so
low a tone, that the words were not caught by the by-standers, and,
rising, he asked pardon of those around if he had ever offended any of
them, and earnestly besought their prayers. Then, without further delay,
he knelt down, and, repeating the words "_In manus tuas, Domine_," he
submitted himself to his fate.[1170]

His bloody head was set up opposite to that of his fellow-sufferer. For
three hours these ghastly trophies remained exposed to the gaze of the
multitude. They were then taken down, and, with the bodies, placed in
leaden coffins, which were straightway removed,--that containing the
remains of Egmont to the convent of Santa Clara, and that of Hoorne to
the ancient church of St. Gudule. To these places, especially to Santa
Clara, the people now flocked, as to the shrine of a martyr. They threw
themselves on the coffin, kissing it and bedewing it with their tears,
as if it had contained the relics of some murdered saint;[1171] while
many of them, taking little heed of the presence of informers, breathed
vows of vengeance; some even swearing not to trim either hair or beard
till these vows were executed.[1172] The government seems to have
thought it prudent to take no notice of this burst of popular feeling.
But a funeral hatchment, blazoned with the arms of Egmont, which, as
usual after the master's death, had been fixed by his domestics on the
gates of his mansion, was ordered to be instantly removed; no doubt, as
tending to keep alive the popular excitement.[1173] The bodies were not
allowed to remain long in their temporary places of deposit, but were
transported to the family residences of the two lords in the country,
and laid in the vaults of their ancestors.[1174]

Thus by the hand of the common executioner perished these two
unfortunate noblemen, who, by their rank, possessions, and personal
characters, were the most illustrious victims that could have been
selected in the Netherlands. Both had early enjoyed the favor of Charles
the Fifth, and both had been intrusted by Philip with some of the
highest offices in the state. Philip de Montmorency, Count Hoorne, the
elder of the two, came of the ancient house of Montmorency in France.
Besides filling the high post of Admiral of the Low Countries, he was
made governor of the provinces of Gueldres and Zutphen, was a councillor
of state, and was created by the emperor a knight of the Golden Fleece.
His fortune was greatly inferior to that of Count Egmont; yet its
confiscation afforded a supply by no means unwelcome to the needy
exchequer of the duke of Alva.

[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF EGMONT.]

However nearly on a footing they might be in many respects, Hoorne was
altogether eclipsed by his friend in military renown. Lamoral, Count
Egmont, inherited through his mother, the most beautiful woman of her
time,[1175] the title of prince of Gavre,--a place on the Scheldt, not
far from Ghent. He preferred, however, the more modest title of count of
Egmont, which came to him by the father's side, from ancestors who had
reigned over the duchy of Gueldres. The uncommon promise which he early
gave served, with his high position, to recommend him to the notice of
the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who, in 1544, honored by his presence
Egmont's nuptials with Sabina, countess-palatine of Bavaria. In 1546,
when scarcely twenty-four years of age, he was admitted to the order of
the Golden Fleece,--and, by a singular coincidence, on the same day on
which that dignity was bestowed on the man destined to become his mortal
foe, the duke of Alva.[1176] Philip, on his accession, raised him to the
dignity of a councillor of state, and made him governor of the important
provinces of Artois and Flanders.

But every other title to distinction faded away before that derived from
those two victories, which left the deepest stain on the French arms
that they had received since the defeat at Pavia. "I have seen," said
the French ambassador, who witnessed the execution of Egmont, "I have
seen the head of that man fall who twice caused France to
tremble."[1177]

Yet the fame won by his success was probably unfortunate for Egmont. For
this, the fruit of impetuous valor and of a brilliant _coup-de-main_,
was very different from the success of a long campaign, implying genius
and great military science in the commander. Yet the _éclat_ it gave was
enough to turn the head of a man less presumptuous than Egmont. It
placed him at once on the most conspicuous eminence in the country;
compelling him, in some sort, to take a position above his capacity to
maintain. When the troubles broke out, Egmont was found side by side
with Orange, in the van of the malecontents. He was urged to this rather
by generous sensibility to the wrongs of his countrymen, than by any
settled principle of action. Thus acting from impulse, he did not, like
William, calculate the consequences of his conduct. When those
consequences came, he was not prepared to meet them; he was like some
unskilful necromancer, who has neither the wit to lay the storm which he
has raised, nor the hardihood to brave it. He was acted on by contrary
influences. In opposition to the popular movement came his strong
feeling of loyalty, and his stronger devotion to the Roman Catholic
faith. His personal vanity coöperated with these; for Egmont was too
much of a courtier willingly to dispense with the smiles of royalty.
Thus the opposite forces by which he was impelled served to neutralize
each other. Instead of moving on a decided one of conduct, like his
friend, William of Orange, he appeared weak and vacillating. He
hesitated where he should have acted. And as the storm thickened, he
even retraced his steps, and threw himself on the mercy of the monarch
whom he had offended. William better understood the character of his
master,--and that of the minister who was to execute his decrees.[1178]

Still, with all his deficiencies, there was much both in the personal
qualities of Egmont and in his exploits to challenge admiration. "I knew
him," says Brantôme, "both in France and in Spain, and never did I meet
with a nobleman of higher breeding, or more gracious in his
manners."[1179] With an address so winning, a heart so generous, and
with so brilliant a reputation, it is not wonderful that Egmont should
have been the pride of his court and the idol of his countrymen. In
their idolatry they could not comprehend that Alva's persecution should
not have been prompted by a keener feeling than a sense of public duty
or obedience to his sovereign. They industriously sought in the earlier
history of the rival chiefs the motives for personal pique. On Alva's
first visit to the Netherlands, Egmont, then a young man, was said to
have won of him a considerable sum at play. The ill-will thus raised in
Alva's mind was heightened by Egmont's superiority over him at a
shooting-match, which the people, regarding as a sort of national
triumph, hailed with an exultation that greatly increased the
mortification of the duke.[1180] But what filled up the measure of his
jealousy was his rival's military renown; for the Fabian policy which
directed Alva's campaigns, however it established his claims to the
reputation of a great commander, was by no means favorable to those
brilliant feats of arms which have such attraction for the multitude. So
intense, indeed, was the feeling of hatred, it was said, in Alva's
bosom, that, on the day of his rival's execution, he posted himself
behind a lattice of the very building in which Egmont had been confined,
that he might feast his eyes with the sight of his mortal agony.[1181]

The friends of Alva give a very different view of his conduct. According
to them, an illness under which he labored, at the close of Egmont's
trial, was occasioned by his distress of mind at the task imposed on him
by the king. He had written more than once to the court of Castile, to
request some mitigation of Egmont's sentence, but was answered, that
"this would have been easy to grant, if the offence had been against the
king; but against the faith, it was impossible."[1182] It was even said
that the duke was so much moved, that he was seen to shed tears as big
as peas on the day of the execution![1183]

[Sidenote: CONDUCT OF ALVA.]

I must confess, I have never seen any account that would warrant a
belief in the report that Alva witnessed in person the execution of his
prisoners. Nor, on the other hand, have I met with any letter of his
deprecating the severity of their sentence, or advising a mitigation of
their punishment. This, indeed, would be directly opposed to his policy,
openly avowed. The reader may, perhaps, recall the homely simile by
which he recommended to the queen-mother, at Bayonne, to strike at the
great nobles in preference to the commoners. "One salmon," he said, "was
worth ten thousand frogs."[1184] Soon after Egmont's arrest, some of the
burghers of Brussels waited on him to ask why it had been made. The duke
bluntly told them, "When he had got together his troops, he would let
them know."[1185] Everything shows that, in his method of proceeding in
regard to the two lords, he had acted on a preconcerted plan, in the
arrangement of which he had taken his full part. In a letter to Philip,
written soon after the execution, he speaks with complacency of having
carried out the royal views in respect to the great offenders.[1186] In
another, he notices the sensation caused by the death of Egmont; and
"the greater the sensation," he adds, "the greater will be the benefit
to be derived from it."[1187]--There is little in all this of
compunction for the act, or of compassion for its victims.

The truth seems to be, that Alva was a man of an arrogant nature, an
inflexible will, and of the most narrow and limited views. His doctrine
of implicit obedience went as far as that of Philip himself. In
enforcing it, he disdained the milder methods of argument or
conciliation. It was on force, brute force alone, that he relied. He was
bred a soldier, early accustomed to the stern discipline of the camp.
The only law he recognized was martial law; his only argument, the
sword. No agent could have been fitter to execute the designs of a
despotic prince. His hard, impassible nature was not to be influenced by
those affections which sometimes turn the most obdurate from their
purpose. As little did he know of fear; nor could danger deter him from
carrying out his work. The hatred he excited in the Netherlands was
such, that, as he was warned, it was not safe for him to go out after
dark. Placards were posted up in Brussels menacing his life if he
persisted in the prosecution of Egmont.[1188] He held such menaces as
light as he did the entreaties of the countess, or the arguments of her
counsel. Far from being moved by personal considerations, no power could
turn him from that narrow path which he professed to regard as the path
of duty. He went surely, though it might be slowly, towards the mark,
crushing by his iron will every obstacle that lay in his track. We
shudder at the contemplation of such a character, relieved by scarcely a
single touch of humanity. Yet we must admit there is something which
challenges our admiration in the stern, uncompromising manner, without
fear or favor, with which a man of this indomitable temper carries his
plans into execution.

It would not be fair to omit, in this connection, some passages from
Alva's correspondence, which suggest the idea that he was not wholly
insensible to feelings of compassion,--when they did not interfere with
the performance of his task. In a letter to the king, dated the ninth of
June, four days only after the death of the two nobles, the duke says:
"Your majesty will understand the regret I feel at seeing these poor
lords brought to such an end, and myself obliged to bring them to
it.[1189] But I have not shrunk from doing what is for your majesty's
service. Indeed, they and their accomplices have been the cause of very
great present evil, and one which will endanger the souls of many for
years to come. The Countess Egmont's condition fills me with the
greatest pity, burdened as she is with a family of eleven children, none
old enough to take care of themselves;--and she too a lady of so
distinguished rank, sister of the count-palatine, and of so virtuous,
truly Catholic, and exemplary life.[1190] There is no man in the country
who does not grieve for her! I cannot but commend her," he concludes,
"as I do now, very humbly, to the good grace of your majesty, beseeching
you to call to mind that if the count, her husband, came to trouble at
the close of his days, he formerly rendered great service to the
state."[1191] The reflection, it must be owned, came somewhat late.

In another letter to Philip, though of the same date, Alva recommends
the king to summon the countess and her children to Spain; where her
daughters might take the veil, and her sons be properly educated. "I do
not believe," he adds, "that there is so unfortunate a family in the
whole world. I am not sure that the countess has the means of procuring
a supper this very evening!"[1192]

Philip, in answer to these letters, showed that he was not disposed to
shrink from his own share of responsibility for the proceedings of his
general. The duke, he said, had only done what justice and his duty
demanded.[1193] He could have wished that the state of things had
warranted a different result; nor could he help feeling deeply that
measures like those to which he had been forced should have been
necessary in his reign. "But," continued the king, "no man has a right
to shrink from his duty.[1194]--I am well pleased," he concludes, "to
learn that the two lords made so good and Catholic an end. As to what
you recommend in regard to the countess of Egmont and her eleven
children, I shall give all proper heed to it."[1195]

[Sidenote: FATE OF EGMONT'S FAMILY.]

The condition of the countess might well have moved the hardest heart
to pity. Denied all access to her husband, she had been unable to
afford him that consolation which he so much needed during his long and
dreary confinement. Yet she had not been idle; and, as we have seen, she
was unwearied in her efforts to excite a sympathy in his behalf. Neither
did she rely only on the aid which this world can give; and few nights
passed during her lord's imprisonment in which she and her daughters
might not be seen making their pious pilgrimages, barefooted, to the
different churches of Brussels, to invoke the blessing of Heaven on
their labors. She had been supported through this trying time by a
reliance on the success of her endeavors, in which she was confirmed by
the encouragement she received from the highest quarters. It is not
necessary to give credit to the report of a brutal jest attributed to
the duke of Alva, who, on the day preceding the execution, was said to
have told the countess "to be of good cheer; for her husband would leave
the prison on the morrow!"[1196] There is more reason to believe that
the Emperor Maximilian, shortly before the close of the trial, sent a
gentleman with a kind letter to the countess, testifying the interest he
took in her affairs, and assuring her she had nothing to fear on account
of her husband.[1197] On the very morning of Egmont's execution, she was
herself, we are told, paying a visit of condolence to the countess of
Aremberg, whose husband had lately fallen in the battle of Heyligerlee;
and at her friend's house the poor lady is said to have received the
first tidings of the fate of her lord.[1198]

The blow fell the heavier, that she was so ill prepared for it. On the
same day she found herself, not only a widow, but a beggar,--with a
family of orphan children in vain looking up to her for the common
necessaries of life.[1199] In her extremity, she resolved to apply to
the king himself. She found an apology for it in the necessity of
transmitting to Philip her husband's letter to him, which, it seems, had
been intrusted to her care.[1200] She apologizes for not sooner sending
this last and most humble petition of her deceased lord, by the extreme
wretchedness of her situation, abandoned, as she is, by all, far from
kindred and country.[1201] She trusts in his majesty's benignity and
compassion[1202] to aid her sons by receiving them into his service when
they shall be of sufficient age. This will oblige her, during the
remainder of her sad days, and her children after her, to pray God for
the long and happy life of his majesty.[1203]--It must have given
another pang to the heart of the widowed countess, to have been thus
forced to solicit aid from the very hand that had smitten her. But it
was the mother pleading for her children.

Yet Philip, notwithstanding his assurances to the duke of Alva, showed
no alacrity in relieving the wants of the countess. On the first of
September the duke again wrote, to urge the necessity of her case,
declaring that, if it had not been for a "small sum that he had himself
sent, she and the children would have perished of hunger!"[1204]

The misfortunes of this noble lady excited commiseration not only at
home, but in other countries of Europe, and especially in Germany, the
land of her birth.[1205] Her brother, the elector of Bavaria, wrote to
Philip, to urge the restitution of her husband's estates to his family.
Other German princes preferred the same request, which was moreover
formally made by the emperor, through his ambassador at Madrid. Philip
coolly replied, that "the time for this had not yet come."[1206] A
moderate pension, meanwhile, was annually paid by Alva to the countess
of Egmont, who survived her husband ten years,--not long enough to see
her children established in possession of their patrimony.[1207] Shortly
before her death, her eldest son, then grown to man's estate, chafing
under the sense of injustice to himself and his family, took part in the
war against the Spaniards. Philip, who may perhaps have felt some
compunction for the ungenerous requital he had made for the father's
services, not only forgave this act of disloyalty in the son, but three
years later allowed the young man to resume his allegiance, and placed
him in full possession of the honors and estates of his ancestors.[1208]

Alva, as we have seen, in his letters to Philip, had dwelt on the
important effects of Egmont's execution. He did not exaggerate these
effects. But he sorely mistook the nature of them. Abroad, the elector
of Bavaria at once threw his whole weight into the scale of Orange and
the party of reform.[1209] Others of the German princes followed his
example; and Maximilian's ambassador at Madrid informed Philip that the
execution of the two nobles, by the indignation it had caused throughout
Germany, had wonderfully served the designs of the prince of
Orange.[1210]

[Sidenote: SENTIMENT OF THE PEOPLE.]

At home the effects were not less striking. The death of these two
illustrious men, following so close upon the preceding executions,
spread a deep gloom over the country. Men became possessed with the idea
that the reign of blood was to be perpetual.[1211] All confidence was
destroyed, even that confidence which naturally exists between parent
and child, between brother and brother.[1212] The foreign merchant
caught somewhat of this general distrust, and refused to send his
commodities to a country where they were exposed to confiscation.[1213]
Yet among the inhabitants indignation was greater than even fear or
sorrow;[1214] and the Flemings who had taken part in the prosecution of
Egmont trembled before the wrath of an avenging people.[1215] Such were
the effects produced by the execution of men whom the nation reverenced
as martyrs in the cause of freedom. Alva notices these consequences in
his letters to the king. But though he could discern the signs of the
times, he little dreamed of the extent of the troubles they portended.
"The people of this country," he writes, "are of so easy a temper, that,
when your majesty shall think fit to grant them a general pardon, your
clemency, I trust, will make them as prompt to render you their
obedience as they are now reluctant to do it."[1216]--The haughty
soldier, in his contempt for the peaceful habits of a burgher
population, comprehended as little as his master the true character of
the men of the Netherlands.




CHAPTER VI.

SECRET EXECUTION OF MONTIGNY.

Bergen and Montigny.--Their Situation in Spain.--Death of
Bergen.--Arrest of Montigny.--Plot for his Escape.--His
Process.--Removal to Simancas.--Closer Confinement.--Midnight Execution.

1567-1570.


Before bidding a long adieu to the Netherlands, it will be well to lay
before the reader an account of a transaction which has proved a
fruitful theme of speculation to the historian, but which, until the
present time, has been shrouded in impenetrable mystery.

It may be remembered that, in the year 1566, two noble Flemings, the
marquis of Bergen and the baron of Montigny, were sent on a mission to
the court of Madrid, to lay before the king the critical state of
affairs, imperatively demanding some change in the policy of the
government. The two lords went on the mission; but they never returned.
Many conjectures were made respecting their fate; and historians have
concluded that Bergen possibly,[1217] and certainly Montigny, came to
their end by violence.[1218] But, in the want of evidence, it was only
conjecture, while the greatest discrepancy has prevailed in regard to
details. It is not till very recently that the veil has been withdrawn
through the access that has been given to the Archives of Simancas, that
dread repository, in which the secrets of the Castilian kings have been
buried for ages. Independently of the interest attaching to the
circumstances of the present narrative, it is of great importance for
the light it throws on the dark, unscrupulous policy of Philip the
Second. It has, moreover, the merit of resting on the most authentic
grounds of the correspondence of the king and his ministers.

[Sidenote: BERGEN AND MONTIGNY.]

Both envoys were men of the highest consideration. The marquis of
Bergen, by his rank and fortune, was in the first class of the Flemish
aristocracy.[1219] Montigny was of the ancient house of the
Montmorencys, being a younger brother of the unfortunate Count Hoorne.
At the time of Charles the Fifth's abdication he had the honor of being
selected by the emperor as one of those Flemish nobles who were to
escort him to his monastic residence in Spain. He occupied several
important posts,--among others, that of governor of Tournay,--and, like
Bergen, was a knight of the Golden Fleece. In the political disturbances
of the time, although not placed in the front of disaffection, the two
lords had taken part with the discontented faction, had joined in the
war upon Granvelle, and had very generally disapproved of the policy of
the crown. They had, especially, raised their voices against the system
of religious persecution, with a manly independence which had secured
for them--it seems undeservedly--the reputation of being the advocates
of religious reform. This was particularly the case with Bergen, who, to
one that asked how heretics should be dealt with, replied, "If they were
willing to be converted, I would not trouble them. If they refused,
still I would not take their lives, as they might hereafter be
converted." This saying, duly reported to the ears of Philip, was
doubtless treasured up against the man who had the courage to utter
it.[1220]

The purpose of their embassy was to urge on the king the necessity of a
more liberal and lenient policy, to which Margaret, who had not yet
broken with the nobles, was herself inclined. It was not strange that
the two lords should have felt the utmost reluctance to undertake a
mission which was to bring them so directly within the power of the
monarch whom they knew they had offended, and who, as they also knew,
was not apt to forgive an offence. True, Egmont had gone on a similar
mission to Madrid, and returned uninjured to Brussels. But it was at an
earlier period, when the aspect of things was not so dangerous. His time
had not yet come.

It was not till after much delay that the other nobles, with the regent,
prevailed on Bergen and Montigny to accept the trust, by urging on them
its absolute importance for assuring the tranquillity of the country.
Even then, an injury which confined the marquis some weeks to his house
furnished him with a plausible excuse for not performing his engagement,
of which he would gladly have availed himself. But his scruples again
vanished before the arguments and entreaties of his friends; and he
consented to follow, as he could not accompany, Montigny.

The latter reached Madrid towards the middle of June, 1566, was
graciously received by the king, and was admitted to repeated audiences,
at which he did not fail to urge the remedial measures countenanced by
Margaret. Philip appeared to listen with complacency; but declined
giving an answer till the arrival of the other ambassador, who, having
already set out on his journey, was attacked, on his way through France,
by a fever. There Bergen halted, and again thought of abandoning the
expedition. His good genius seemed ever willing to interpose to save
him. But his evil genius, in the shape of Philip, who wrote to him, in
the most condescending terms, to hasten his journey, beckoned him to
Madrid.[1221]

Besides the two envoys there was another person of consequence from the
Low Countries at that time in the capital,--Simon Renard, once Charles's
minister at the English court, the inexorable foe of Granvelle. He had
been persuaded by Philip to come to Spain, although to do so, he knew,
was to put himself on trial for his manifold offences against the
government. He was arrested; proceedings were commenced against him; and
he was released only by an illness which terminated in his death. There
seems to have been a mysterious fascination possessed by Philip, that he
could thus draw within his reach the very men whom every motive of
self-preservation should have kept at an immeasurable distance.

The arrival of the marquis did not expedite the business of the mission.
Unfortunately, about that period news came to Madrid of the outbreak of
the iconoclasts, exciting not merely in Spain, but throughout
Christendom, feelings of horror and indignation. There was no longer a
question as to a more temperate policy. The only thought now was of
vengeance. It was in vain that the Flemish envoys interposed to mitigate
the king's anger, and turn him from those violent measures which must
bring ruin on the country. Their remonstrances were unheeded. They found
access to his person by no means so easy a thing as before. They felt
that somewhat of the odium of the late transactions attached to them.
Even the courtiers, with the ready instinct that detects a sovereign's
frown, grew cold in their deportment. The situation of the envoys became
every day more uncomfortable. Their mission was obviously at an end, and
all they now asked was leave to return to the Netherlands.

But the king had no mind to grant it. He had been long since advised by
Granvelle, and others in whom he trusted, that both the nobles had taken
a decided part in fostering the troubles of the country.[1222] To that
country they were never to return. Philip told them he had need of their
presence for some time longer, to advise with him on the critical state
of affairs in Flanders. So thin a veil could not impose on them, and
they were idled with the most serious apprehensions. They wrote to
Margaret, begging her to request the king to dismiss them; otherwise
they should have good cause to complain both of her and of the nobles,
who had sent them on a mission from which they would gladly have been
excused.[1223] But Margaret had already written to her brother to keep
them in Spain until the troubles in Flanders should be ended.[1224] On
the reception of the letter of her envoys, however, she replied that she
had already written to the king to request leave for them to
return.[1225] I have found no record of such a letter.

In the spring of 1567, the duke of Alva was sent to take command of the
Netherlands. Such an appointment, at such a crisis, plainly intimated
the course to be pursued, and the host of evils it would soon bring on
the devoted country. The conviction of this was too much for Bergen,
heightened as his distress was by his separation, at such a moment, from
all that was most dear to him on earth. He fell ill of a fever, and grew
rapidly worse, till at length, it was reported to Philip that there was
no chance for his recovery unless he were allowed to return to his
native land.[1226]

[Sidenote: DEATH OF BERGEN.]

This placed the king in a perplexing dilemma. He was not disposed to let
the marquis escape from his hands even by the way of a natural death. He
was still less inclined to assent to his return to Flanders. In this
emergency he directed Ruy Gomez, the prince of Eboli, to visit the sick
nobleman, who was his personal friend. In case Gomez found the marquis
so ill that his recovery was next to impossible, he was to give him the
king's permission to return home. If, however, there seemed a prospect
of his recovery, he was only to hold out the hope of such a
permission.[1227] In case of the sick man's death, Gomez was to take
care to have his obsequies performed in such a manner as to show the
sorrow of the king and his ministers at his loss, and their respect for
the lords of the Low Countries![1228] He was, moreover, in that event,
to take means to have the marquis's property in the Netherlands
sequestered, as, should rebellion be proved against him, it would be
forfeited to the crown.--This curious, and, as it must be allowed,
highly confidential epistle, was written with the king's own hand. The
address ran, "Ruy Gomez--to his hands. Not to be opened nor read in the
presence of the bearer."

Which part of the royal instruction the minister thought best to follow
for the cure of the patient,--whether he gave him an unconditional
permission to return, or only held out the hope that he would do so,--we
are not informed. It matters little, however. The marquis, it is
probable, had already learned not to put his trust in princes. At all
events, the promises of the king did as little for the patient as the
prescriptions of the doctor. On the twenty-first of May he
died,--justifying the melancholy presentiment with which he had entered
on his mission.

Montigny was the only victim that now remained to Philip; and he caused
him to be guarded with redoubled vigilance. He directed Ruy Gomez to
keep an eye on all his movements, and to write to the governors of
Navarre, Catalonia, and other frontier places, to take precautions to
intercept the Flemish lord, in case of his attempting to fly the
country.[1229] Montigny was in fact a prisoner, with Madrid for the
limits of his prison. Yet, after this, the regent could write to him
from Brussels, that she was pleased to learn from her brother that he
was soon to give him his _congé_.[1230]--If the king said this, he had a
bitter meaning in his words, beyond what the duchess apprehended.

It was not long, however, that Montigny was allowed to retain even this
degree of liberty. In September, 1567, arrived the tidings of the arrest
of the Counts Egmont and Hoorne. Orders were instantly issued for the
arrest of Montigny. He was seized by a detachment of the royal guard,
and borne off to the alcazar of Segovia.[1231] He was not to be allowed
to leave the fortress day or night; but as much indulgence was shown to
him as was compatible with this strict confinement; and he was permitted
to take with him the various retainers who composed his household, and
to maintain his establishment in prison. But what indulgence could
soften the bitterness of a captivity far from kindred and country, with
the consciousness, moreover, that the only avenue from his prison
conducted to the scaffold!

In his extremity, Montigny looked around for the means of effecting his
own escape; and he nearly succeeded. One, if not more, of the Spaniards
on guard, together with his own servants, were in the plot. It was
arranged that the prisoner should file through the bars of a window in
his apartment, and lower himself to the ground by means of a rope
ladder. Relays of horses were provided to take him rapidly on to the
seaport of Santander, in the north, whence he was to be transported in a
shallop to St. Jean de Luz. The materials for executing his part of the
work were conveyed to Montigny in the loaves of bread daily sent to him
by his baker. Everything seemed to promise success. The bars of the
window were removed.[1232] They waited only for a day when the alcayde
of the castle would not be likely to visit it. At this juncture the plot
was discovered through the carelessness of the _maître d'hôtel_.

This person neglected to send one of the loaves to his master, which
contained a paper giving sundry directions respecting the mode of
escape, and mentioning the names of several of the parties. The loaf
fell into the hands of a soldier.[1233] On breaking it, the paper was
discovered, and taken by him to the captain of the guard. The plot was
laid open; the parties were arrested, and sentenced to death or the
galleys. The king allowed the sentence to take effect in regard to the
Spaniards. He granted a reprieve to the Flemings, saying that what they
had done was in some sort excusable, as being for the service of their
master. Besides, they might be of use hereafter, in furnishing testimony
in the prosecution of Montigny.[1234] On this compound principle their
lives were spared. After languishing some time in prison, they were
allowed to return to the Low Countries, bearing with them letters from
Montigny, requesting his friends to provide for them in consideration of
their sacrifices for him. But they were provided for in a much more
summary manner by Alva, who, on their landing, caused them to be
immediately arrested, and banished them all from the country, under pain
of death if they returned to it![1235]

The greatest sympathy was felt for Montigny in the Netherlands, where
the nobles were filled with indignation at the unworthy treatment their
envoy had received from Philip. His step-mother, the dowager-countess of
Hoorne, was as untiring in her efforts for him as she had been for his
unfortunate brother. These were warmly seconded by his wife, a daughter
of the prince of Epinoy, to whom Montigny had been married but a short
time before his mission to Spain. This lady wrote a letter in the most
humble tone of supplication to Philip. She touched on the blight brought
on her domestic happiness, spoke with a strong conviction of the
innocence of Montigny, and with tears and lamentations implored the
king, by the consideration of his past services, by the passion of the
blessed Saviour, to show mercy to her husband.[1236]

[Sidenote: HIS PROCESS.]

Several months elapsed, after the execution of the Counts Egmont and
Hoorne, before the duke commenced proceedings against Montigny; and it
was not till February, 1569, that the licentiate Salazar, one of the
royal council, was sent to Segovia in order to interrogate the prisoner.
The charges were of the same nature with those brought against Egmont
and Hoorne. Montigny at first, like them, refused to make any
reply,--standing on his rights as a member of the Golden Fleece. He was,
however, after a formal protest, prevailed on to waive this privilege.
The examination continued several days. The various documents connected
with it are still preserved in the Archives of Simancas. M. Gachard has
given no abstract of their contents. But that sagacious inquirer, after
a careful perusal of the papers, pronounces Montigny's answers to be "a
victorious refutation of the charges of the attorney-general."[1237]

It was not a refutation that Philip or his viceroy wanted. Montigny was
instantly required to appoint some one to act as counsel in his behalf.
But no one was willing to undertake the business, till a person of
little note at length consented, or was rather compelled to undertake it
by the menaces of Alva.[1238] Any man might well have felt a
disinclination for an office which must expose him to the ill-will of
the government, with little chance of benefit to his client.

Even after this, Montigny was allowed to languish another year in prison
before sentence was passed on him by his judges. The proceedings of the
Council of Blood on this occasion were marked by a more flagitious
contempt of justice, if possible, than its proceedings usually were. The
duke, in a letter of the eighteenth of March, 1570, informed the king of
the particulars of the trial. He had submitted the case, not to the
whole court, but to a certain number of the councillors, _selected by
him for the purpose_.[1239] He does not tell on what principle the
selection was made. Philip could readily divine it. In the judgment of
the majority, Montigny was found guilty of high treason. The duke
accordingly passed sentence of death on him. The sentence was dated
March 4, 1570. It was precisely of the same import with the sentences of
Egmont and Hoorne. It commanded that Montigny be taken from prison, and
publicly beheaded with a sword. His head was to be stuck on a pole,
there to remain during the pleasure of his majesty. His goods and
estates were to be confiscated to the crown.[1240]

The sentence was not communicated even to the Council of Blood. The only
persons aware of its existence were the duke's secretary and his two
trusty councillors, Vargas and Del Rio. Alva had kept it thus secret
until he should learn the will of his master.[1241] At the same time he
intimated to Philip that he might think it better to have the execution
take place in Castile, as under existing circumstances more eligible
than the Netherlands.

Philip was in Andalusia, making a tour in the southern provinces, when
the despatches of his viceroy reached him. He was not altogether pleased
with their tenor. Not that he had any misgivings in regard to the
sentence; for he was entirely satisfied, as he wrote to Alva, of
Montigny's guilt.[1242] But he did not approve of a public execution.
Enough blood, it might be thought in the Netherlands, had been already
spilt; and men there might complain that, shut up in a foreign prison
during his trial, Montigny had not met with justice.[1243] There were
certainly some grounds for such a complaint.

Philip resolved to defer taking any decisive step in the matter till his
return to the north. Meanwhile he commended Alva's discretion in keeping
the sentence secret, and charged him on no account to divulge it, even
to members of the council.

Some months elapsed after the king's return to Madrid before he came to
a decision,--exhibiting the procrastination, so conspicuous a trait in
him, even among a people with whom procrastination was no miracle. It
may have been that he was too much occupied with an interesting affair
which pressed on him at that moment. About two years before, Philip had
had the misfortune to lose his young and beautiful queen, Isabella of
the Peace. Her place was now to be supplied by a German princess, Anne
of Austria, his fourth wife, still younger than the one he had lost. She
was already on her way to Castile; and the king may have been too much
engrossed by his preparations for the nuptial festivities, to have much
thought to bestow on the concerns of his wretched prisoner.

The problem to be solved was how to carry the sentence into effect, and
yet leave the impression on the public that Montigny died a natural
death. Most of the few ministers whom the king took into his confidence
on the occasion were of opinion that it would be best to bring the
prisoner's death about by means of a slow poison administered in his
drink, or some article of his daily food. This would give him time,
moreover, to provide for the concerns of his soul.[1244] But Philip
objected to this, as not fulfilling what he was pleased to call the ends
of justice.[1245] He at last decided on the _garrote_,--the form of
execution used for the meaner sort of criminals in Spain, but which,
producing death by suffocation, would be less likely to leave its traces
on the body.[1246]

[Sidenote: CLOSER CONFINEMENT.]

To accomplish this, it would be necessary to remove Montigny from the
town of Segovia, the gay residence of the court, and soon to be the
scene of the wedding ceremonies, to some more remote and less frequented
spot. Simancas was accordingly selected, whose stern, secluded fortress
seemed to be a fitting place for the perpetration of such a deed. The
fortress was of great strength, and was encompassed by massive walls,
and a wide moat, across which two bridges gave access to the interior.
It was anciently used as a prison for state criminals. Cardinal Ximenes
first conceived the idea of turning it to the nobler purpose of
preserving the public archives.[1247] Charles the Fifth carried this
enlightened project into execution; but it was not fully consummated
till the time of Philip, who prescribed the regulations, and made all
the necessary arrangements for placing the institution on a permanent
basis,--thus securing to future historians the best means for guiding
their steps through the dark and tortuous passages of his reign. But
even after this change in its destination, the fortress of Simancas
continued to be used occasionally as a place of confinement for
prisoners of state. The famous bishop of Zamora, who took so active a
part in the war of the _comunidades_, was there strangled by command of
Charles the Fifth. The quarter of the building in which he suffered is
still known by the name of "_el cubo del obispo_,"--"The Bishop's
Tower."[1248]

To this strong place Montigny was removed from Segovia, on the
nineteenth of August, 1570, under a numerous guard of alguazils and
arquebusiers. For greater security he was put in irons,--a superfluous
piece of cruelty, from which Philip, in a letter to Alva, thought it
necessary to vindicate himself, as having been done without his
orders.[1249] We might well imagine that the last ray of hope must have
faded away in Montigny's bosom, as he entered the gloomy portals of his
new abode. Yet hope, as we are assured, did not altogether desert him.
He had learned that Anne of Austria had expressed much sympathy for his
sufferings. It was but natural that the daughter of the emperor
Maximilian should take an interest in the persecuted people of the
Netherlands. It was even said that she promised the wife and step-mother
of Montigny to make his liberation the first boon she would ask of her
husband on coming to Castile.[1250] And Montigny cherished the fond hope
that the influence of the young bride would turn the king from his
purpose, and that her coming to Castile would be the signal for his
liberation. That Anne should have yielded to such an illusion is not so
strange, for she had never seen Philip; but that Montigny should have
been beguiled by it is more difficult to understand.

In his new quarters he was treated with a show of respect, if not
indulgence. He was even allowed some privileges. Though the guards were
doubled over him, he was permitted to have his own servants, and, when
it suited him, to take the fresh air and sunshine in the corridor.

Early in October the young Austrian princess landed on the northern
shores of the kingdom, at Santander. The tidings of this may have
induced the king to quicken his movements in regard to his prisoner,
willing perhaps to relieve himself of all chance of importunity from his
bride, as well as from the awkwardness of refusing the first favor she
should request. As a preliminary step, it would be necessary to abridge
the liberty which Montigny at present enjoyed, to confine him to his
apartment, and cutting off his communications even with those in the
castle, to spread the rumor of his illness, which should prepare the
minds of the public for a fatal issue.

To furnish an apology for his close confinement, a story was got up of
an attempt to escape, similar to what had actually occurred at Segovia.
Peralta, alcayde of the fortress, a trustworthy vassal, to whom was
committed the direction of the affair, addressed a letter to the king,
inclosing a note in Latin, which he pretended had been found under
Montigny's window, containing sundry directions for his flight. The fact
of such a design, the writer said, was corroborated by the appearance of
certain persons in the disguise of friars about the castle. The
governor, in consequence, had been obliged to remove his prisoner to
other quarters, of greater security. He was accordingly lodged in the
Bishop's Tower,--ominous quarters!--where he was no longer allowed the
attendance of his own domestics, but placed in strict confinement.
Montigny had taken this proceeding so ill, and with such vehement
complaints of its injustice, that it had brought on a fever, under which
he was now laboring. Peralta concluded by expressing his regret at being
forced by Montigny's conduct into a course so painful to himself, as he
would gladly have allowed him all the indulgence compatible with his own
honor.[1251]--This letter, which had all been concocted in the cabinet
at Madrid, was shown openly at court. It gained easier credit from the
fact of Montigny's former attempt to escape; and the rumor went abroad
that he was now lying dangerously ill.

Early in October, the licentiate Alonzo de Arellano had been summoned
from Seville, and installed in the office of alcalde of the chancery of
Valladolid, distant only two leagues from Simancas. Arellano was a
person in whose discretion and devotion to himself Philip knew he could
confide; and to him he now intrusted the execution of Montigny.
Directions for the course he was to take, as well as the precautions he
was to use to prevent suspicion, were set down in the royal instructions
with great minuteness. They must be allowed to form a remarkable
document, such as has rarely proceeded from a royal pen. The alcalde was
to pass to Simancas, and take with him a notary, an executioner, and a
priest. The last should be a man of undoubted piety and learning,
capable of dispelling any doubts or errors that might unhappily have
arisen in Montigny's mind in respect to the faith. Such a man appeared
to be Fray Hernando del Castillo, of the order of St. Dominic, in
Valladolid; and no better person could have been chosen, nor one more
open to those feelings of humanity which are not always found under the
robe of the friar.[1252]

[Sidenote: HIS LAST MOMENTS.]

Attended by these three persons, the alcalde left Valladolid soon after
nightfall on the evening of the fourteenth of October. Peralta had been
advised of his coming; and the little company were admitted into the
castle so cautiously as to attract no observation. The governor and the
judge at once proceeded to Montigny's apartment, where they found the
unhappy man lying on his pallet, ill not so much of the fever that was
talked of, as of that sickness of the heart which springs from hope
deferred. When informed of his sentence by Arellano, in words as kind as
so cruel a communication would permit, he was wholly overcome by it, and
for some time continued in a state of pitiable agitation. Yet one might
have thought that the warnings he had already received were such as
might have prepared his mind in some degree for the blow. For he seems
to have been in the condition of the tenant of one of those
inquisitorial cells in Venice, the walls of which, we are told, were so
constructed as to approach each other gradually every day, until the
wretched inmate was crushed between them. After Montigny had
sufficiently recovered from his agitation to give heed to it, the
sentence was read to him by the notary. He was still to be allowed a
day before the execution, in order to gain time, as Philip had said, to
settle his affairs with Heaven. And although, as the alcalde added, the
sentence passed on him was held by the king as a just sentence, yet, in
consideration of his quality, his majesty, purely out of his benignity
and clemency, was willing so far to mitigate it, in regard to the form,
as to allow him to be executed, not in public, but in secret, thus
saving his honor, and suggesting the idea of his having come to his end
by a natural death.[1253] For this act of grace Montigny seems to have
been duly grateful. How true were the motives assigned for it, the
reader can determine.

Having thus discharged their painful office, Arellano and the governor
withdrew, and, summoning the friar, left the prisoner to the spiritual
consolations he so much needed. What followed, we have from Castillo
himself. As Montigny's agitation subsided, he listened patiently to the
exhortations of the good father; and when at length restored to
something like his natural composure, he joined with him earnestly in
prayer. He then confessed and received the sacrament, seeming desirous
of employing the brief space that yet remained to him in preparation for
the solemn change. At intervals, when not actually occupied with his
devotions, he read the compositions of Father Luis de Granada, whose
spiritualized conceptions had often solaced the hours of his captivity.

Montigny was greatly disturbed by the rumor of his having been shaken in
his religious principles, and having embraced the errors of the
Reformers. To correct this impression, he briefly drew up, with his own
hand, a confession of faith, in which he avows as implicit a belief in
all the articles sanctioned by the Roman Catholic Church, and its head,
the Vicar of Christ, as Pius the Fifth himself could have desired.[1254]
Having thus relieved his mind, Montigny turned to settle some temporal
affairs which he was desirous to settle. They did not occupy much time.
For, as Philip had truly remarked, there was no occasion for him to make
a will, since he had nothing to bequeath,--all his property having been
confiscated to the crown.[1255] If, however, any debt pressed heavily on
his conscience, he was to be allowed to indicate it, as well as any
provision which he particularly desired to make for a special purpose.
This was on the condition, however, that he should allude to himself as
about to die a natural death.[1256]

Montigny profited by this to express the wish that masses, to the number
of seven hundred, might be said for his soul, that sundry sums might be
appropriated to private uses, and that some gratuities might be given to
certain of his faithful followers. It may interest the reader to know
that the masses were punctually performed. In regard to the pious
legacies, the king wrote to Alva, he must first see if Montigny's estate
would justify the appropriation; as for the gratuities to servants,
they were wholly out of the question.[1257]

One token of remembrance, which he placed in the hands of Castillo,
doubtless reached its destination. This was a gold chain of delicate
workmanship, with a seal or signet ring attached to it, bearing his
arms. This little token he requested might be given to his wife. It had
been his constant companion ever since they were married; and he wished
her to wear it in memory of him,--expressing at the same time his regret
that a longer life had not been granted him, to serve and honor her. As
a dying injunction he besought her not to be entangled by the new
doctrines, or to swerve from the faith of her ancestors.--If ever
Montigny had a leaning to the doctrines of the Reformation, it could
hardly have deepened into conviction; for early habit and education
reasserted their power so entirely, at this solemn moment, that the
Dominican by his side declared that he gave evidence of being as good
and Catholic a Christian as he could wish to be himself.[1258] The few
hours in which Montigny had thus tasted of the bitterness of death
seemed to have done more to wean him from the vanities of life than the
whole years of dreary imprisonment he had passed within the walls of
Segovia and Simancas. Yet we shall hardly credit the friar's assertion,
that he carried his resignation so far, that, though insisting on his
own innocence, he admitted the sentence of his judges to be just![1259]

At about two o'clock on the morning of the sixteenth of October, when
the interval allowed for this solemn preparation had expired, Father
Castillo waited on the governor and the alcalde, to inform them that the
hour had come, and that their prisoner was ready to receive them. They
went, without further delay, to the chamber of death, attended by the
notary and the executioner. Then, in their presence, while the notary
made a record of the proceedings, the grim minister of the law did his
work on his unresisting victim.[1260]

No sooner was the breath out of the body of Montigny, than the alcalde,
the priest, and their two companions were on their way back to
Valladolid, reaching it before dawn, so as to escape the notice of the
inhabitants. All were solemnly bound to secrecy in regard to the dark
act in which they had been engaged. The notary and the hangman were
still further secured by the menace of death, in case they betrayed any
knowledge of the matter; and they knew full well that Philip was not a
man to shrink from the execution of his menaces.[1261]

[Sidenote: HIS LAST MOMENTS.]

The corpse was arrayed in a Franciscan habit, which, coming up to the
throat, left the face only exposed to observation. It was thus seen by
Montigny's servants, who recognised the features of their master, hardly
more distorted than sometimes happens from disease, when the agonies of
death have left their traces. The story went abroad that their lord had
died of the fever with which he had been so violently attacked.

The funeral obsequies were performed, according to the royal orders,
with all due solemnity. The vicar and beneficiaries of the church of St.
Saviour officiated on the occasion. The servants of the deceased were
clad in mourning,--a token of respect recommended by Philip, who
remarked, the servants were so few, that mourning might as well be given
to them;[1262] and he was willing to take charge of this and the other
expenses of the funeral, provided Montigny had not left money sufficient
for the purpose. The place selected for his burial was a vault under one
of the chapels of the building; and a decent monument indicated the spot
where reposed the ashes of the last of the envoys who came from Flanders
on the ill-starred mission to Madrid.[1263]

Such is a true account of this tragical affair, as derived from the
king's own letters and those of his agents. Far different was the story
put in circulation at the time. On the seventeenth of October, the day
after Montigny's death, despatches were received at court from Peralta,
the alcayde of the fortress. They stated that, after writing his former
letter, his prisoner's fever had so much increased, that he had called
in the aid of a physician; and as the symptoms became more alarming, the
latter had entered into a consultation with the medical adviser of the
late regent, Joanna, so that nothing that human skill could afford
should be wanting to the patient. He grew rapidly worse, however, and
as, happily, Father Hernando del Castillo, of Valladolid, chanced to be
then in Simancas, he came and administered the last consolations of
religion to the dying man. Having done all that a good Christian at such
a time should do, Montigny expired early on the morning of the
sixteenth, manifesting at the last so Catholic a spirit, that good hopes
might be entertained of his salvation.[1264]

This hypocritical epistle, it is hardly necessary to say, like the one
that preceded it, had been manufactured at Madrid. Nor was it altogether
devoid of truth. The physician of the place, named Viana, had been
called in; and it was found necessary to intrust him with the secret.
Every day he paid his visit to the castle, and every day returned with
more alarming accounts of the condition of the patient; and thus the
minds of the community were prepared for the fatal termination of his
disorder. Not that, after all, this was unattended with suspicions of
foul play in the matter, as people reflected how opportune was the
occurrence of such an event. But suspicions were not proof. The secret
was too well guarded for any one to penetrate the veil of mystery; and
the few who were behind that veil loved their lives too well to raise
it.

Despatches written in cipher, and containing a full and true account of
the affair, were sent to the duke of Alva. The two letters of Peralta,
which indeed were intended for the meridian of Brussels rather than of
Madrid, were forwarded with them. The duke was told to show them
incidentally, as it were, without obtruding them on any one's
notice,[1265] that Montigny's friends in the Netherlands might be
satisfied of their truth.

In his own private communication to Alva, Philip, in mentioning the
orthodox spirit manifested by his victim in his last moments, shows that
with the satisfaction which he usually expressed on such occasions was
mingled some degree of scepticism. "If his inner man," he writes of
Montigny, "was penetrated with as Christian a spirit as he exhibited in
the outer, and as the friar who confessed him has reported, God, we may
presume, will have mercy on his soul."[1266] In the original draft of
the letter, as prepared by the king's secretary, it is further added:
"Yet, after all, who can tell but this was a delusion of Satan, who, as
we know, never deserts the heretic in his dying hour." This sentence--as
appears from the manuscript still preserved in Simancas--was struck out
by Philip, with the remark in his own hand, "Omit this, as we should
think no evil of the dead!"[1267]

Notwithstanding this magnanimous sentiment, Philip lost no time in
publishing Montigny to the world as a traitor, and demanding the
confiscation of his estates. The Council of Blood learned a good lesson
from the Holy Inquisition, which took care that even Death should not
defraud it of its victims. Proceedings were instituted against the
_memory_ of Montigny, as had before been done against the memory of the
marquis of Bergen.[1268] On the twenty-second of March, 1571, the duke
of Alva pronounced sentence, condemning the memory of Florence de
Montmorency, lord of Montigny, as guilty of high treason, and
confiscating his goods and estates to the use of the crown; "it having
come to his knowledge," the instrument went on to say, "that the said
Montigny had deceased by natural death in the fortress of Simancas,
where he had of late been held a prisoner!"[1269]

The proceedings of the Council of Blood against Montigny were
characterized, as I have already said, by greater effrontery and a more
flagrant contempt of the common forms of justice than were usually to be
met with even in that tribunal. A bare statement of the facts is
sufficient. The party accused was put on his trial--if trial it can be
called--in one country, while he was held in close custody in another.
The court before which he was tried--or rather the jury, for the council
seems to have exercised more of the powers of a jury than of a
judge--was on this occasion a packed body, selected to suit the purposes
of the prosecution. Its sentence, instead of being publicly pronounced,
was confided only to the party interested to obtain it,--the king. Even
the sentence itself was not the one carried into effect; but another was
substituted in its place, and a public execution was supplanted by a
midnight assassination. It would be an abuse of language to dignify such
a proceeding with the title of a judicial murder.

[Sidenote: NOTICE OF GACHARD.]

Yet Philip showed no misgivings as to his own course in the matter. He
had made up his mind as to the guilt of Montigny. He had been false to
his king and false to his religion; offences which death only could
expiate. Still we find Philip resorting to a secret execution, although
Alva, as we have seen, had supposed that sentence was to be executed on
Montigny in the same open manner as it had been on the other victims of
the bloody tribunal. But the king shrunk from exposing a deed to the
public eye, which, independently of its atrocity in other respects,
involved so flagrant a violation of good faith towards the party who had
come, at his sovereign's own desire, on a public mission to Madrid. With
this regard to the opinions of his own age, it may seem strange that
Philip should not have endeavored to efface every vestige of his
connection with the act, by destroying the records which established it.
On the contrary, he not only took care that such records should be made,
but caused them, and all other evidence of the affair, to be permanently
preserved in the national archives. There they lay for the inspection of
posterity, which was one day to sit in judgment on his conduct.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the part of this History which relates to the Netherlands, I have
been greatly indebted to two eminent scholars of that country. The first
of these, M. Gachard, who had the care of the royal archives of Belgium,
was commissioned by his government, in 1844, to visit the Peninsula for
the purpose of collecting materials for the illustration of the national
history. The most important theatre of his labors was Simancas, which,
till the time of his visit, had been carefully closed to natives as well
as foreigners. M. Gachard profited by the more liberal arrangements
which, under certain restrictions, opened its historical treasures to
the student. The result of his labors he is now giving to the world by
the publication of his "Correspondance de Philippe II.," of which two
volumes have already been printed. The work is published in a beautiful
form, worthy of the auspices under which it has appeared. It consists
chiefly of the correspondence carried on by the Spanish government and
the authorities of the Netherlands in the reign of Philip the
Second,--the revolutionary age, and of course the most eventful period
of their history. The official despatches, written in French, are, it is
true, no longer to be found in Simancas, whence they were removed to
Brussels on the accession of Albert and Isabella to the sovereignty of
the Low Countries. But a large mass of correspondence which passed
between the court of Castile and the Netherlands, is still preserved in
the Spanish archives. As it is, for the most part, of a confidential
nature, containing strictures on men and things intended only for the
eyes of the parties to it, it is of infinite value to the historian. Not
only has it never before been published, but, with the exception of a
portion which passed under the review of the Italian Strada, it has
never been submitted to the inspection of the scholar. With the aid of
this rich collection, the historian is enabled to enter into many
details, hitherto unknown, of a personal nature, relating to the actors
in the great drama of the revolution, as well as to disclose some of the
secret springs of their policy.

M. Gachard has performed his editorial duties with conscientiousness and
ability. In a subsequent volume he proposes to give the entire text of
the more important letters; but in the two already published he has
confined himself to an analysis of their contents, more or less
extended, according to circumstances. He has added explanatory notes,
and prefixed to the whole a copious dissertation, presenting a view of
the politics of the Castilian court, and of the characters of the king
and the great officers of state. As the writer's information is derived
from sources the most authentic as well as the least accessible to
scholars, his preliminary essay deserves to be carefully studied by the
historian of the Netherlands.

M. Gachard has further claims to the gratitude of every lover of letters
by various contributions in other forms which he has made to the
illustration of the national history. Among these his "Correspondance de
Guillaume le Taciturne," of which three volumes in octavo have already
appeared, has been freely used by me. It consists of a collection of
William's correspondence, industriously gathered from various quarters.
The letters differ from one another as widely in value as might
naturally be expected in so large and miscellaneous a collection.

The other scholar by whose editorial labors I have profited in this part
of my work is M. Groen van Prinsterer. His voluminous publication,
"Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau," the first series of which
embraces the times of William the Silent, is derived from the private
collection of the king of Holland. The contents are various, but consist
chiefly of letters from persons who took a prominent part in the conduct
of affairs. Their correspondence embraces a miscellaneous range of
topics, and with those of public interest combines others strictly
personal in their details, thus bringing into strong relief the
characters of the most eminent actors on the great political theatre. A
living interest attaches to this correspondence, which we shall look for
in vain in the colder pages of the historian. History gives us the acts,
but letters like these, in which the actors speak for themselves, give
us the thoughts, of the individual.

M. Groen has done his part of the work well, adhering to the original
text with scrupulous fidelity, and presenting us the letters in the
various languages in which they were written. The interstices, so to
speak, between the different parts of the correspondence, are skilfully
filled up by the editor, so as to connect the incongruous materials into
a well compacted fabric. In conducting what, as far as he is concerned,
may be termed the original part of his work, the editor has shown much
discretion, gathering information from collateral contemporary sources;
and, by the side-lights he has thus thrown over the path, has greatly
facilitated the progress of the student, and enabled him to take a
survey of the whole historical ground. The editor is at no pains to
conceal his own opinions; and we have no difficulty in determining the
religious sect to which he belongs. But it is not the less true, that he
is ready to render justice to the opinions of others, and that he is
entitled to the praise of having executed his task with impartiality.

One may notice a peculiarity in the criticisms of both Groen and
Gachard, the more remarkable considering the nations to which they
belong; that is, the solicitude they manifest to place the most
favorable construction on the conduct of Philip, and to vindicate his
memory from the wholesale charges so often brought against him, of a
systematic attempt to overturn the liberties of the Netherlands. The
reader, even should he not always feel the cogency of their arguments,
will not refuse his admiration to the candor of the critics.

There is a third publication, recently issued from the press in
Brussels, which contains, in the compass of a single volume, materials
of much importance for the history of the Netherlands. This is the
"Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche," by the late Baron
Reiffenberg. It is a part of the French correspondence which, as I have
mentioned above, was transferred, in the latter part of Philip the
Second's reign, from Simancas to Brussels; but which, instead of
remaining there, was removed, after the country had passed under the
Austrian sceptre, to the imperial library of Vienna, where it exists, in
all probability, at the present day. Some fragments of this
correspondence escaped the fate which attended the bulk of it; and it is
gleanings from these which Reiffenberg has given to the world.

That country is fortunate which can command the services of such men as
these for the illustration of its national annals,--men who with
singular enthusiasm for their task combine the higher qualifications of
scholarship, and a talent for critical analysis. By their persevering
labors the rich ore has been drawn from the mines where it had lain in
darkness for ages. It now waits only for the hand of the artist to
convert it into coin, and give it a popular currency.

[Sidenote: CONDITION OF TURKEY.]




BOOK IV.

CHAPTER I.

THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE.

Condition of Turkey.--African Corsairs.--Expedition against
Tripoli.--War on the Barbary Coast.

1559-1563.


There are two methods of writing history;--one by following down the
stream of time, and exhibiting events in their chronological order; the
other by disposing of these events according to their subjects. The
former is the most obvious; and where the action is simple and
continuous, as in biography, for the most part, or in the narrative of
some grand historical event, which concentrates the interest, it is
probably the best. But when the story is more complicated, covering a
wide field, and embracing great variety of incident, the chronological
system, however easy for the writer, becomes tedious and unprofitable to
the reader. He is hurried along from one scene to another without fully
apprehending any; and as the thread of the narrative is perpetually
broken by sudden transition, he carries off only such scraps in his
memory as it is hardly possible to weave into a connected and consistent
whole. Yet this method, as the most simple and natural, is one most
affected by the early writers,--by the old Castilian chroniclers more
particularly, who form the principal authorities in the present work.
Their wearisome pages, mindful of no order but that of time, are spread
over as miscellaneous a range of incidents, and having as little
relation to one another, as the columns of a newspaper.

To avoid this inconvenience, historians of a later period have preferred
to conduct their story on more philosophical principles, having regard
rather to the nature of the events described, than to the precise time
of their occurrence. And thus the reader, possessed of one action, its
causes and its consequences, before passing on to another, is enabled to
treasure up in his memory distinct impressions of the whole.

In conformity to this plan, I have detained the reader in the
Netherlands until he had seen the close of Margaret's administration,
and the policy which marked the commencement of her successor's. During
this period, Spain was at peace with her European neighbors, most of
whom were too much occupied with their domestic dissensions to have
leisure for foreign war. France, in particular, was convulsed by
religious feuds, in which Philip, as the champion of the Faith, took not
only the deepest interest, but an active part. To this I shall return
hereafter.

But while at peace with her Christian brethren, Spain was engaged in
perpetual hostilities with the Moslems, both of Africa and Asia. The
relations of Europe with the East were altogether different in the
sixteenth century from what they are in our day. The Turkish power lay
like a dark cloud on the Eastern horizon, to which every eye was turned
with apprehension; and the same people for whose protection European
nations are now willing to make common cause, were viewed by them, in
the sixteenth century, in the light of a common enemy.

It was fortunate for Islamism that, as the standard of the Prophet was
falling from the feeble grasp of the Arabs, it was caught up by a nation
like the Turks, whose fiery zeal urged them to bear it still onward in
the march of victory. The Turks were to the Arabs what the Romans were
to the Greeks. Bold, warlike, and ambitious, they had little of that
love of art which had been the dominant passion of their predecessors,
and still less of that refinement which, with the Arabs, had degenerated
into effeminacy and sloth. Their form of government was admirably suited
to their character. It was an unmixed despotism. The sovereign, if not
precisely invested with the theocratic character of the caliphs, was
hedged round with so much sanctity, that resistance to his authority was
an offence against religion as well as law. He was placed at an
immeasurable distance above his subjects. No hereditary aristocracy was
allowed to soften the descent, and interpose a protecting barrier for
the people. All power was derived from the sovereign, and, on the death
of its proprietor, returned to him. In the eye of the sultan, his
vassals were all equal, and all equally his slaves.

The theory of an absolute government would seem to imply perfection in
the head of it. But, as perfection is not the lot of humanity, it was
prudently provided by the Turkish constitution that the sultan should
have the benefit of a council to advise him. It consisted of three or
four great officers, appointed by himself, with the grand-vizier at
their head. This functionary was possessed of an authority far exceeding
that of the prime-minister of any European prince. All the business of
state may be said to have passed through his hands. The persons chosen
for this high office were usually men of capacity and experience; and in
a weak reign they served by their large authority to screen the
incapacity of the sovereign from the eyes of his subjects, while they
preserved the state from detriment. It might be thought that powers so
vast as those bestowed on the vizier might have rendered him formidable,
if not dangerous, to his master. But his master was placed as far above
him as above the meanest of his subjects. He had unlimited power of life
and death; and how little he was troubled with scruples in the exercise
of this power is abundantly shown in history. The bowstring was too
often the only warrant for the deposition of a minister.

But the most remarkable of the Turkish institutions, the one which may
be said to have formed the keystone of the system, was that relating to
the Christian population of the empire. Once in five years a general
conscription was made, by means of which all the children of Christian
parents who had reached the age of seven, and gave promise of excellence
in mind or body, were taken from their homes and brought to the capital.
They were then removed to different quarters, and placed in seminaries
where they might receive such instruction as would fit them for the
duties of life. Those giving greatest promise of strength and endurance
were sent to places prepared for them in Asia Minor. Here they were
subjected to a severe training, to abstinence, to privations of every
kind, and to the strict discipline which should fit them for the
profession of a soldier. From this body was formed the famous corps of
the janizaries.

Another portion were placed in schools in the capital, or the
neighboring cities, where, under the eye of the sultan, as it were, they
were taught various manly accomplishments, with such a smattering of
science as Turkish, or rather Arabian, scholarship could supply. When
their education was finished, some went into the sultan's body-guard,
where a splendid provision was made for their maintenance. Others,
intended for civil life, entered on a career which might lead to the
highest offices in the state.

[Sidenote: CONDITION OF TURKEY.]

As all these classes of Christian youths were taken from their parents
at that tender age when the doctrines of their own faith could hardly
have taken root in their minds, they were, without difficulty, won over
to the faith of the Koran; which was further commended to their choice
as the religion of the state, the only one which opened to them the path
of preferment. Thus set apart from the rest of the community, and
cherished by royal favor, the new converts, as they rallied round the
throne of their sovereign, became more stanch in their devotion to his
interests, as well as to the interests of the religion they had adopted,
than even the Turks themselves.

This singular institution bore hard on the Christian population, who
paid this heavy tax of their own offspring. But it worked well for the
monarchy, which, acquiring fresh vigor from the constant infusion of new
blood into its veins, was slow in exhibiting any signs of decrepitude or
decay.

The most important of these various classes was that of the janizaries,
whose discipline was far from terminating with the school. Indeed, their
whole life may be said to have been passed in war, or in preparation for
it. Forbidden to marry, they had no families to engage their affections,
which, as with the monks and friars in Christian countries, were
concentrated on their own order, whose prosperity was inseparably
connected with that of the state. Proud of the privileges which
distinguished them from the rest of the army, they seemed desirous to
prove their title to them by their thorough discipline, and by their
promptness to execute the most dangerous and difficult services. Their
post was always the post of danger. It was their proud vaunt, that they
had never fled before an enemy. Clad in their flowing robes, so little
suited to the warrior, armed with the arquebuse and the scymitar,--in
their hands more than a match for the pike or sword of the
European,--with the heron's plume waving above their heads, their dense
array might ever be seen bearing down in the thickest of the fight; and
more than once, when the fate of the empire trembled in the balance, it
was this invincible corps that turned the scale, and by their intrepid
conduct decided the fortune of the day. Gathering fresh reputation with
age, so long as their discipline remained unimpaired, they were a match
for the best soldiers of Europe. But in time this admirable organization
experienced a change. One sultan allowed them to marry; another, to
bring their sons into the corps; a third opened the ranks to Turks as
well as Christians; until, forfeiting their peculiar character, the
janizaries became confounded with the militia of the empire. These
changes occurred in the time of Philip the Second; but their
consequences were not fully unfolded till the following century.[1270]

It was fortunate for the Turks, considering the unlimited power lodged
in the hands of their rulers, that these should have so often been
possessed of the courage and capacity for using it for the advancement
of the nation. From Othman the First, the founder of the dynasty, to
Solyman the Magnificent, the contemporary of Philip, the Turkish throne
was filled by a succession of able princes, who, bred to war, were every
year enlarging the boundaries of the empire, and adding to its
resources. By the middle of the sixteenth century, besides their vast
possessions in Asia, they held the eastern portions of Africa. In
Europe, together with the countries at this day acknowledging their
sceptre, they were masters of Greece; and Solyman, overrunning
Transylvania and Hungary, had twice carried his victorious banners up
to the walls of Vienna. The battle-ground of the Cross and the Crescent
was transferred from the west to the east of Europe; and Germany in the
sixteenth century became what Spain and the Pyrenees had been in the
eighth, the bulwark of Christendom.

Nor was the power of Turkey on the sea less formidable than on the land.
Her fleet rode undisputed mistress of the Levant; for Venice, warned by
the memorable defeat at Prevesa, in 1538, and by the loss of Cyprus and
other territories, hardly ventured to renew the contest. That wily
republic found that it was safer to trust to diplomacy than to arms, in
her dealings with the Ottomans.

The Turkish navy, sweeping over the Mediterranean, combined with the
corsairs of the Barbary coast,--who, to some extent, owed allegiance to
the Porte,--and made frequent descents on the coasts of Italy and Spain,
committing worse ravages than those of the hurricane. From these ravages
France only was exempt; for her princes, with an unscrupulous policy
which caused general scandal in Christendom, by an alliance with the
Turks, protected her territories somewhat at the expense of her honor.

The northern coast of Africa, at this time, was occupied by various
races, who, however they may have differed in other respects, all united
in obedience to the Koran. Among them was a large infusion of Moors
descended from the Arab tribes who had once occupied the south of Spain,
and who, on its reconquest by the Christians, had fled that country
rather than renounce the religion of their fathers. Many even of the
Moors then living were among the victims of this religious persecution;
and they looked with longing eyes on the beautiful land of their
inheritance, and with feelings of unquenchable hatred on the Spaniards
who had deprived them of it.

The African shore was studded with towns,--some of them, like Algiers,
Tunis, Tripoli, having a large extent of territory adjacent,--which
owned the sway of some Moslem chief, who ruled them in sovereign state,
or, it might be, acknowledging, for the sake of protection, a qualified
allegiance to the sultan. These rude chiefs, profiting by their maritime
position, followed the dreadful trade of the corsair. Issuing from their
strongholds, they fell on the unprotected merchantmen, or, descending on
the opposite coasts of Andalusia and Valencia, sacked the villages, and
swept off the wretched inhabitants into slavery.

The Castilian government did what it could for the protection of its
subjects. Fortified posts were established along the shores.
Watch-towers were raised on the heights, to give notice of the approach
of an enemy. A fleet of galleys, kept constantly on duty, rode off the
coasts to intercept the corsairs. The war was occasionally carried into
the enemy's country. Expeditions were fitted out, to sweep the Barbary
shores, or to batter down the strongholds of the pirates. Other states,
whose territories bordered on the Mediterranean, joined in these
expeditions; among them Tuscany, Rome, Naples, Sicily,--the two last the
dependencies of Spain,--and above all Genoa, whose hardy seamen did good
service in these maritime wars. To these should be added the Knights of
St. John, whose little island of Malta, with its iron defences, boldly
bidding defiance to the enemy, was thrown into the very jaws, as it
were, of the African coast. Pledged by their vows to perpetual war with
the infidel, these brave knights, thus stationed on the outposts of
Christendom, were the first to sound the alarm of invasion, as they were
the foremost to repel it.

[Sidenote: AFRICAN CORSAIRS.]

The Mediterranean, in that day, presented a very different spectacle
from what it shows at present,--swarming, as it does, with the commerce
of many a distant land, and its shores glittering with towns and
villages, that echo to the sounds of peaceful and protected industry.
Long tracts of deserted territory might then be seen on its borders,
with the blackened ruins of many a hamlet, proclaiming too plainly the
recent presence of the corsair. The condition of the peasantry of the
south of Spain, in that day, was not unlike that of our New England
ancestors, whose rural labors might, at any time, be broken by the
warwhoop of the savage, as he burst on the peaceful settlement, sweeping
off its wretched inmates--those whom he did not massacre--to captivity
in the wilderness. The trader, instead of pushing out to sea, crept
timidly along the shore, under the protecting wings of its fortresses,
fearful lest the fierce enemy might dart on him unawares, and bear him
off to the dungeons of Africa. Or, if he ventured out into the open
deep, it was under a convoy of well-armed galleys, or, armed to the
teeth himself, prepared for war.

Scarcely a day passed without some conflict between Christian and Moslem
on the Mediterranean waters. Not unfrequently, instead of a Moor, the
command was intrusted to some Christian renegade, who, having renounced
his country and his religion for the roving life of a corsair, felt,
like most apostates, a keener hatred than even its natural enemies for
the land he had abjured.[1271] In these encounters, there were often
displayed, on both sides, such deeds of heroism as, had they been
performed on a wider theatre of action, would have covered the actors
with immortal glory. By this perpetual warfare a race of hardy and
experienced seamen was formed, in the countries bordering on the
Mediterranean; and more than one name rose to eminence for nautical
science as well as valor, with which it would not be easy to find a
parallel in other quarters of Christendom. Such were the Dorias of
Genoa,--a family to whom the ocean seemed their native element; and
whose brilliant achievements on its waters, through successive
generations, shed an undying lustre on the arms of the republic.

The corsair's life was full of maritime adventure. Many a tale of tragic
interest was told of his exploits, and many a sad recital of the
sufferings of the Christian captive, tugging at the oar, or pining in
the dungeons of Tripoli and Algiers. Such tales formed the burden of the
popular minstrelsy of the period, as well as of more elegant
literature,--the drama, and romantic fiction. But fact was stranger than
fiction. It would have been difficult to exaggerate the number of the
Christian captives, or the amount of their sufferings. On the conquest
of Tunis by Charles the Fifth, in 1535, ten thousand of these unhappy
persons, as we are assured, walked forth from its dungeons, and knelt,
with tears of gratitude and joy, at the feet of their liberator.
Charitable associations were formed in Spain, for the sole purpose of
raising funds to ransom the Barbary prisoners. But the ransom demanded
was frequently exorbitant, and the efforts of these benevolent
fraternities made but a feeble impression on the whole number of
captives.

Thus the war between the Cross and the Crescent was still carried on
along the shores of the Mediterranean, when the day of the Crusades was
past in most of the other quarters of Christendom. The existence of the
Spaniard--as I have often had occasion to remark--was one long crusade;
and in the sixteenth century he was still doing battle with the infidel,
as stoutly as in the heroic days of the Cid. The furious contests with
the petty pirates of Barbary engendered in his bosom feelings of even
keener hostility than that which grew up in his contests with the Arabs,
where there was no skulking, predatory foe, but army was openly arrayed
against army, and they fought for the sovereignty of the Peninsula. The
feeling of religious hatred rekindled by the Moors of Africa extended
in some degree to the Morisco population, who still occupied those
territories on the southern borders of the monarchy which had belonged
to their ancestors, the Spanish Arabs. This feeling was increased by the
suspicion, not altogether without foundation, of a secret correspondence
between the Moriscos and their brethren on the Barbary coast. These
mingled sentiments of hatred and suspicion sharpened the sword of
persecution, and led to most disastrous consequences, which before long
will be unfolded to the reader.

Among the African corsairs was one by the name of Dragut, distinguished
for his daring spirit, and the pestilent activity with which he pursued
the commerce of the Spaniards. In early life he had been made prisoner
by Andrew Doria; and the four years during which he was chained to the
oar in the galleys of Genoa did not serve to mitigate the feelings of
hatred which he had always borne to the Christians. On the recovery of
his freedom, he resumed his desperate trade of a corsair with renewed
activity. Having made himself master of Tripoli, he issued out, with his
galleys, from that stronghold, fell on the defenceless merchantman,
ravaged the coasts, engaged boldly in fight with the Christian
squadrons, and made his name as terrible, throughout the Mediterranean,
as that of Barbarossa had been in the time of Charles the Fifth.

The people of the southern provinces, smarting under their sufferings,
had more than once besought Philip to send an expedition against
Tripoli, and, if possible, break up this den of thieves, and rid the
Mediterranean of the formidable corsair. But Philip, who was in the
midst of his victorious campaigns against the French, had neither the
leisure nor the resources, at that time, for such an enterprise. In the
spring of 1559, however, he gave orders to the duke of Medina Celi,
viceroy of Sicily, to fit out an armament for the purpose, to obtain the
coöperation of the Italian states, and to take command of the
expedition.

A worse choice for the command could not have been made; and this not so
much from the duke's inexperience; for an apprenticeship to the sea was
not deemed necessary to form a naval commander, in an age when men
passed indifferently from the land-service to the sea-service. But, with
the exception of personal courage, the duke of Medina Celi seems to have
possessed none of the qualities requisite in a commander, whether by
land or sea.

The different Italian powers--Tuscany, Rome, Naples, Sicily, Genoa--all
furnished their respective quotas. John Andrew Doria, nephew of the
great Andrew, and worthy of the name he bore, had command of the galleys
of the republic. To these was added the reinforcement of the
grand-master of Malta. The whole fleet amounted to more than a hundred
sail, fifty-four of which were galleys; by much the larger part being
furnished by Spain and her Italian provinces. Fourteen thousand troops
embarked on board the squadron. So much time was consumed in
preparation, that the armament was not got ready for sea till late in
October, 1559,--too late for acting with advantage on the stormy African
coast.

[Sidenote: EXPEDITION AGAINST TRIPOLI.]

This did not deter the viceroy, who, at the head of the combined fleet,
sailed out of the port of Syracuse in November. But the elements
conspired against this ill-starred expedition. Scarcely had the squadron
left the port, when it was assailed by a tempest, which scattered the
vessels, disabled some, and did serious damage to others. To add to the
calamity, an epidemic broke out among the men, caused by the bad quality
of the provisions furnished by the Genoese contractors. In his distress,
the duke of Medina Celi put in at the island of Malta. He met with a
hospitable reception from the grand-master; for hospitality was one of
the obligations of the order. Fall two mouths elapsed before the duke
was in a condition to reëmbark, with his force reduced nearly one third
by disease and death.

Meanwhile Dragut, having ascertained the object of the expedition, had
made every effort to put Tripoli in a posture of defence. At the same
time he sent to Constantinople, to solicit the aid of Solyman. The
Spanish admiral, in the crippled condition of his armament, determined
to postpone the attack on Tripoli to another time, and to direct his
operations for the present against the island of Jerbah, or, as it was
called by the Spaniards, Gelves. This place, situated scarcely a league
from the African shore, in the neighborhood of Tripoli, had long been
known as a nest of pirates, who did great mischief in the Mediterranean.
It was a place of ill-omen to the Spaniards, whose arms had met there
with a memorable reverse in the reign of Ferdinand the Catholic.[1272]
The duke, however, landing with his whole force, experienced little
resistance from the Moors, and soon made himself master of the place. It
was defended by a fortress fallen much out of repair; and, as the
Spanish commander proposed to leave a garrison there, he set about
restoring the fortifications, or rather constructing new ones. In this
work the whole army actively engaged; but nearly two months were
consumed before it was finished. The fortress was then mounted with
artillery, and provided with ammunition, and whatever was necessary for
its defence. Finally, a garrison was introduced into it, and the command
intrusted to a gallant officer, Don Alonzo de Sandé.

Scarcely had these arrangements been completed, and the troops prepared
to reëmbark, when advices reached the duke that a large Turkish fleet
was on its way from Constantinople to the assistance of Dragut. The
Spanish admiral called a council of war on board of his ship. Opinions
were divided. Some, among whom was Doria, considering the crippled
condition of their squadron, were for making the best of their way back
to Sicily. Others, regarding this as a course unworthy of Spaniards,
were for standing out to sea, and giving battle to the enemy. The duke,
perplexed by the opposite opinions, did not come to a decision. He was
soon spared the necessity of it by the sight of the Ottoman fleet, under
full sail, bearing rapidly down on him. It consisted of eighty-six
galleys, each carrying a hundred janizaries; and it was commanded by the
Turkish admiral, Piali, a name long dreaded in the Mediterranean.

At the sight of this formidable armament, the Christians were seized
with a panic. They scarcely offered any resistance to the enemy; who,
dashing into the midst of them, sent his broadsides to the right and
left, sinking some of the ships, disabling others, while those out of
reach of his guns shamefully sought safety in flight. Seventeen of the
combined squadron were sunk; four-and-twenty, more or less injured,
struck their colors; a few succeeded in regaining the island, and took
shelter under the guns of the fortress. Medina Celi and Doria were among
those who thus made their way to the shore; and under cover of the
darkness, on the following night, they effected their escape in a
frigate, passing, as by a miracle, without notice, through the enemy's
fleet, and thus securing their retreat to Sicily. Never was there a
victory more humiliating to the vanquished, or one which reflected less
glory on the victors.[1273]

Before embarking, the duke ordered Sandé to defend the place to the last
extremity, promising him speedy assistance. The garrison, thus left to
carry on the contest with the whole Turkish army, amounted to about
five thousand men; its original strength being considerably augmented by
the fugitives from the fleet.

On the following morning, Piali landed with his whole force, and
instantly proceeded to open trenches before the citadel. When he had
established his batteries of cannon, he sent a summons to the garrison
to surrender. Sandé returned for answer, that, "if the place were won,
it would not be, like Piali's late victory, without bloodshed." The
Turkish commander waited no longer, but opened a lively cannonade on the
ramparts, which he continued for some days, till a practicable breach
was made. He then ordered a general assault. The janizaries rushed
forward with their usual impetuosity, under a murderous discharge of
artillery and small arms from the fortress as well as from the shipping,
which was so situated as to support the fire of the besieged. Nothing
daunted, the brave Moslems pushed forward over the bodies of their
fallen comrades; and, scrambling across the ditch, the leading files
succeeded in throwing themselves into the breach. But here they met with
a spirit as determined as their own, from the iron array of warriors,
armed with pike and arquebuse, who, with Sandé at their head, formed a
wall as impenetrable as the ramparts of the fortress. The contest was
now carried on man against man, and in a space too narrow to allow the
enemy to profit by his superior numbers. The besieged, meanwhile, from
the battlements, hurled down missiles of every description on the heads
of the assailants. The struggle lasted for some hours. But Spanish valor
triumphed in the end, and the enemy was driven back in disorder across
the moat, while his rear files were sorely galled, in his retreat, by
the incessant fire of the fortress.

Incensed by the failure of his attack and the slaughter of his brave
followers, Piali thought it prudent to wait till he should be reinforced
by the arrival of Dragut with a fresh supply of men and of battering
ordnance. The besieged profited by the interval to repair their works,
and when Dragut appeared they were nearly as well prepared for the
contest as before.

On the corsair's arrival, Piali, provided with a heavier battering
train, opened a more effective fire on the citadel. The works soon gave
way, and the Turkish commander promptly returned to the assault. It was
conducted with the same spirit, was met with the same desperate courage,
and ended, like the former, in the total discomfiture of the assailants,
who withdrew, leaving the fosse choked up with the bodies of their
slaughtered comrades. Again and again the attack was renewed, by an
enemy whose numbers allowed the storming parties to relieve one another,
while the breaches made by an unintermitting cannonade gave incessant
occupation to the besieged in repairing them. Fortunately, the number of
the latter enabled them to perform this difficult service; and though
many were disabled, and there were few who were not wounded, they still
continued to stand to their posts, with the same spirit as on the first
day of the siege.

[Sidenote: DESPERATE DEFENCE OF GELVES.]

But the amount of the garrison, so serviceable in this point of view,
was fatal in another. The fortress had been provisioned with reference
to a much smaller force. The increased number of mouths was thus doing
the work of the enemy. Notwithstanding the strictest economy, there was
already a scarcity of provisions; and, at the end of six weeks, the
garrison was left entirely without food. The water too had failed. A
soldier had communicated to the Spanish commander an ingenious process
for distilling fresh water from salt.[1274] This afforded a most
important supply, though in a very limited quantity. But the wood which
furnished the fuel necessary for the process was at length exhausted,
and to hunger was added the intolerable misery of thirst.

Thus reduced to extremity, the brave Sandé was not reduced to despair.
Calling his men together, he told them that liberty was of more value
than life. Anything was better than to surrender to such an enemy. And
he proposed to them to sally from the fortress that very night, and cut
their way, if possible, through the Turkish army, or fall in the
attempt. The Spaniards heartily responded to the call of their heroic
leader. They felt, like him, that the doom of slavery was more terrible
than death.

That night, or rather two hours before dawn on the twenty-ninth of June,
Don Alvaro sallied out of the fortress, at the head of all those who
were capable of bearing arms. But they amounted to scarcely more than a
thousand men, so greatly had the garrison been diminished by death, or
disabled by famine and disease. Under cover of the darkness, they
succeeded in passing through the triple row of intrenchments, without
alarming the slumbering enemy. At length, roused by the cries of their
sentinels, the Turks sprang to their arms, and, gathering in dark masses
round the Christians, presented an impenetrable barrier to their
advance. The contest now became furious; but it was short. The heroic
little band were too much enfeebled by their long fatigues, and by the
total want of food for the last two days, to make head against the
overwhelming number of their assailants. Many fell under the Turkish
scymitars, and the rest, after a fierce struggle, were forced back on
the path by which they had come, and took refuge in the fort. Their
dauntless leader, refusing to yield, succeeded in cutting his way
through the enemy, and threw himself into one of the vessels in the
port. Here he was speedily followed by such a throng as threatened to
sink the bark, and made resistance hopeless. Yielding up his sword,
therefore, he was taken prisoner, and led off in triumph to the tent of
the Turkish commander.

On the same day the remainder of the garrison, unable to endure another
assault, surrendered at discretion. Piali had now accomplished the
object of the expedition; and, having reëstablished the Moorish
authorities in possession of the place, he embarked, with his whole
army, for Constantinople. The tidings of his victory had preceded him;
and, as he proudly sailed up the Bosphorus, he was greeted with thunders
of artillery from the seraglio and the heights surrounding the capital.
First came the Turkish galleys, in beautiful order, with the banners
taken from the Christians ignominiously trailing behind them through the
water. Then followed their prizes,--the seventeen vessels taken in the
action,--the battered condition of which formed a striking contrast to
that of their conquerors. But the prize greater than all was the
prisoners, amounting to nearly four thousand, who, manacled like so many
malefactors, were speedily landed, and driven through the streets,
amidst the shouts and hootings of the populace, to the slave-market of
Constantinople. A few only, of the higher order, were reserved for
ransom. Among them were Don Alvaro de Sandé and a son of Medina Celi.
The young nobleman did not long survive his captivity. Don Alvaro
recovered his freedom, and lived to take ample vengeance for all he had
suffered on his conquerors.[1275]

Such was the end of the disastrous expedition against Tripoli, which
left a stain on the Spanish arms that even the brave conduct of the
garrison at Gelves could not wholly wipe away. The Moors were greatly
elated by the discomfiture of their enemies; and the Spaniards were
filled with a proportionate degree of despondency, as they reflected to
what extent their coasts and their commerce would be exposed to the
predatory incursions of the corsairs. Philip was especially anxious in
regard to the safety of his possessions on the African coast. The two
principal of these were Oran and Mazarquivir, situated not far to the
west of Algiers. They were the conquests of Cardinal Ximenes. The former
place was won by an expedition fitted out at his own expense. The
enterprises of this remarkable man were conducted on a gigantic scale,
which might seem better suited to the revenues of princes. Of the two
places Oran was the more considerable; yet hardly more important than
Mazarquivir, which possessed an excellent harbor,--a thing of rare
occurrence on the Barbary shore. Both had been cherished with care by
the Castilian government, and by no monarch more than by Philip the
Second, who perfectly understood the importance of these possessions,
both for the advantages of a commodious harbor, and for the means they
gave him of bridling the audacity of the African cruisers.[1276]

In 1562, the king ordered a squadron of four and twenty galleys, under
the command of Don Juan de Mendoza, to be got ready in the port of
Malaga, to carry supplies to the African colonies. But in crossing the
Mediterranean, the ships were assailed by a furious tempest, which
compelled them to take refuge in the little port of Herradura. The fury
of the storm, however, continued to increase; and the vessels, while
riding at anchor, dashed against one another with such violence, that
many of them foundered, and others, parting their cables, drifted on
shore, which was covered far and wide with the dismal wrecks. Two or
three only, standing out to sea, and braving the hurricane on the deep,
were so fortunate as to escape. By this frightful shipwreck, four
thousand men, including their commander, were swallowed up by the waves.
The southern provinces were filled with consternation at this new
calamity, coming so soon after the defeat at Gelves. It seemed as if the
hand of Providence was lifted against them in their wars with the
Mussulmans.[1277]

[Sidenote: WAR ON THE BARBARY COAST.]

The Barbary Moors, encouraged by the losses of the Spanish navy, thought
this a favorable time for recovering their ancient possessions on the
coast. Hassem, the dey of Algiers, in particular, a warlike prince, who
had been engaged in more than one successful encounter with the
Christians, set on foot an expedition against the territories of Oran
and Mazarquivir. The government of these places was intrusted, at that
time, to Don Alonzo de Cordova, count of Alcaudete. In this post he had
succeeded his father, a gallant soldier, who, five years before, had
been slain in battle by this very Hassem, the lord of Algiers. Eight
thousand Spaniards had fallen with him on the field, or had been made
prisoners of war.[1278] Such were the sad auspices under which the
reign of Philip the Second began, in his wars with the Moslems.[1279]

Oran, at this time, was garrisoned by seventeen hundred men; and
twenty-seven pieces of artillery were mounted on its walls. Its
fortifications were in good repair; but it was in no condition to stand
a siege by so formidable a force as that which Hassem was mustering in
Algiers. The count of Alcaudete, the governor, a soldier worthy of the
illustrious stock from which he sprang, lost no time in placing both
Oran and Mazarquivir in the best state of defence which his means
allowed, and in acquainting Philip with the peril in which he stood.

Meanwhile, the Algerine chief was going briskly forward with his
preparations. Besides his own vassals, he summoned to his aid the petty
princes of the neighboring country; and in a short time he had assembled
a host in which Moors, Arabs, and Turks were promiscuously mingled, and
which, in the various estimates of the Spaniards, rose from fifty to a
hundred thousand men.

Little reliance can be placed on the numerical estimates of the
Spaniards in their wars with the infidel. The gross exaggeration of the
numbers brought by the enemy into the field, and the numbers he was sure
to leave there, with the corresponding diminution of their own in both
particulars, would seem to infer that, in these religious wars, they
thought some miracle was necessary to show that Heaven was on their
side, and the greater the miracle the greater the glory. This
hyperbolical tone, characteristic of the old Spaniards, and said to have
been imported from the East, is particularly visible in the accounts of
their struggles with the Spanish Arabs, where large masses were brought
into the field on both sides, and where the reports of a battle took
indeed the coloring of an Arabian tale. The same taint of exaggeration,
though somewhat mitigated, continued to a much later period, and may be
observed in the reports of the contests with the Moslems, whether Turks
or Moors, in the sixteenth century.

On the fifteenth of March, 1563, Hassem left Algiers, at the head of his
somewhat miscellaneous array, sending his battering train of artillery
round by water, to meet him at the port of Mazarquivir. He proposed to
begin by the siege of this place, which, while it would afford a
convenient harbor for his navy, would, by its commanding position,
facilitate the conquest of Oran. Leaving a strong body of men,
therefore, for the investment of the latter, he continued his march on
Mazarquivir, situated at only two leagues' distance. The defence of this
place was intrusted by Alcaudete to his brother, Don Martin de Cordova.
Its fortifications were in good condition, and garnished with near
thirty pieces of artillery. It was garrisoned by five hundred men, was
well provided with ammunition, and was victualled for a two months'
siege. It was also protected by a detached fort, called St. Michael,
built by the count of Alcaudete, and, from its commanding position, now
destined to be the first object of attack. The fort was occupied by a
few hundred Spaniards, who, as it was of great moment to gain time for
the arrival of succors from Spain, were ordered to maintain it to the
last extremity.

Hassem was not long in opening trenches. Impatient, however, of the
delay of his fleet, which was detained by the weather, he determined not
to wait for the artillery, but to attempt to carry the fort by escalade.
In this attempt, though conducted with spirit, he met with so decided a
repulse, that he abandoned the project of further operations till the
arrival of his ships. No sooner did this take place, than, landing his
heavy guns, he got them into position as speedily as possible, and
opened a lively cannonade on the walls of the fortress. The walls were
of no great strength. A breach was speedily made; and Hassem gave orders
for the assault.

No sooner was the signal given, than Moor, Turk, Arab,--the various
races in whose veins glowed the hot blood of the south,--sprang
impetuously forward. In vain the leading files, as they came on, were
swept away by the artillery of the fortress, while the guns of
Mazarquivir did equal execution on their flank. The tide rushed on, with
an enthusiasm that overleaped every obstacle. Each man seemed emulous of
his comrade, as if desirous to show the superiority of his own tribe or
race. The ditch, choked up with the _débris_ of the rampart and the
fascines that had been thrown into it, was speedily crossed; and while
some sprang fearlessly into the breach, others endeavored to scale the
walls. But everywhere they were met by men as fresh for action as
themselves, and possessed of a spirit as intrepid. The battle raged
along the parapet, and in the breach, where the struggle was deadliest.
It was the old battle, so often fought, of the Crescent and the Cross,
the fiery African and the cool, indomitable European. Arquebuse and
pike, sabre and scymitar, clashed fearfully against each other; while
high above the din rose the war-cries of "Allah!" and "St. Jago!"
showing the creeds and countries of the combatants.

At one time it seemed as if the enthusiasm of the Moslems would prevail;
and twice the standard of the Crescent was planted on the walls. But it
was speedily torn down by the garrison, and the bold adventurers who had
planted it thrown headlong into the moat.

Meanwhile an incessant fire of musketry was kept up from the ramparts;
and hand-grenades, mingled with barrels of burning pitch, were hurled
down on the heads of the assailants, whose confusion was increased, as
their sight was blinded by the clouds of smoke which rose from the
fascines that had taken fire in the ditch. But although their efforts
began to slacken, they were soon encouraged by fresh detachments sent to
their support by Hassem, and the fight was renewed with redoubled fury.
These efforts, however, proved equally ineffectual. The Moors were
driven back on all points; and, giving way before the invincible courage
of the Spaniards, they withdrew in such disorder across the fosse, now
bridged over with the bodies of the slain, that, if the garrison had
been strong enough in numbers, they might have followed the foe to his
trenches, and inflicted such a blow as would at once have terminated the
siege. As it was, the loss of the enemy was fearful; while that of the
Spaniards, screened by their defences, was comparatively light. Yet a
hundred lives of the former, so overwhelming were their numbers, were of
less account than a single life among the latter. The heads of fifty
Turks, who had fallen in the breach or in the ditch, were cut off, as we
are told, by the garrison, and sent, as the grisly trophies of their
victory, to Oran;[1280] showing the feelings of bitter hatred--perhaps
of fear--with which this people was regarded by the Christians.

[Sidenote: WAR ON THE BARBARY COAST.]

The Moorish chief, chafing under this loss, reopened his fire on the
fortress with greater fury than ever. He then renewed the assault, but
with no better success. A third and a fourth time he returned to the
attack, but in vain. In vain too Hassem madly tore off his turban, and,
brandishing his scymitar, with imprecations on his men, drove them
forward to the fight. There was no lack of spirit in his followers, who
poured out their blood like water. But it could not shake the constancy
of the Spaniards, which seemed even to grow stronger as their situation
became more desperate; and as their defences were swept away, they threw
themselves on their knees, and from behind the ruins still poured down
their volleys of musketry on the assailants.

Yet they could not have maintained their ground so long, but for a
seasonable reinforcement received from Mazarquivir. But, however high
the spirit, there is a limit to the powers of endurance; and the
strength of the garrison was rapidly giving way under incessant vigils
and want of food. Their fortifications, moreover, pierced through and
through by the enemy's shot, were no longer tenable; and a mine, which
Hassem was now prepared to run under the ramparts, would complete the
work of destruction. They had obeyed their orders, and stood to their
defence gallantly to the last; and they now obtained leave to abandon
the fort. On the seventh of May, after having sustained eight assaults
and a siege of three weeks, from a host so superior to them in numbers,
the garrison marched out of the fortress of St. Michael. Under cover of
the guns of Mazarquivir, they succeeded in rejoining their comrades
there with but little loss, and were gladly welcomed by their commander,
Don Martin de Cordova, who rendered them the honor due to their heroic
conduct. That same day Hassem took possession of the fortress. He found
only a heap of ruins.[1281]

The Moorish prince, stung with mortification at the price he had paid
for his victory, and anxious, moreover, to anticipate the arrival of
succors from Spain, now eagerly pressed forward the siege of
Mazarquivir. With the assistance of his squadron, the place was closely
invested by sea and land. Batteries of heavy guns were raised on
opposite sides of the castle; and for ten days they thundered, without
interruption, on its devoted walls. When these had been so far shaken as
to afford an opening to the besiegers, Hassem, willing to spare the
further sacrifice of his men, sent a summons to Don Martin to surrender,
intimating, at the same time, that the works were in too ruinous a
condition to be defended. To this the Spaniard coolly replied, that, "if
they were in such a condition, Hassem might come and take them."

On the signal from their chief, the Moors moved rapidly forward to the
attack, and were soon brought face to face with their enemy. A bloody
conflict followed, in the breach and on the ramparts. It continued more
than five hours. The assailants found they had men of the same mettle to
deal with as before, and with defences yet stronger than those they had
encountered in the fortress of St. Michael. Here again the ardor of the
African proved no match for the cool and steady courage of the European;
and Hassem's forces, repulsed on every quarter, withdrew in so mangled a
condition to their trenches, that he was in no state for several days to
renew the assault.[1282]

It would be tedious to rehearse the operations of a siege so closely
resembling in its details that of the fortress of St. Michael. The most
conspicuous figure in the bloody drama was the commander of the
garrison, Don Martin de Cordova. Freely exposing himself to hardship and
danger with the meanest of his followers, he succeeded in infusing his
own unconquerable spirit into their bosoms. On the eve of an assault he
might be seen passing through the ranks with a crucifix in his hand,
exhorting his men, by the blessed sign of their redemption, to do their
duty, and assuring them of the protection of Heaven.[1283] Every
soldier, kindling with the enthusiasm of his leader, looked on himself
as a soldier of the Cross, and felt assured that the shield of the
Almighty must be stretched over those who were thus fighting the battles
of the Faith. The women caught somewhat of the same generous ardor, and,
instead of confining themselves to the feminine occupations of nursing
the sick and the wounded, took an active part in the duties of the
soldiers, and helped to lighten their labors.

Still the condition of the garrison became daily more precarious, as
their strength diminished, and their defences crumbled around them under
the incessant fire of the besiegers. The count of Alcaudete in vain
endeavored to come to their relief, or at least to effect a diversion in
their favor. Sallying out of Oran, he had more than one sharp encounter
with the enemy. But the odds against him were too great; and though he
spread carnage among the Moslem ranks, he could ill afford the sacrifice
of life that it cost him. In the mean time, the two garrisons were
assailed by an enemy from within, more inexorable than the enemy at
their gates. Famine had begun to show itself in some of its hideous
forms. They were already reduced to the necessity of devouring the flesh
of their horses and asses;[1284] and even that was doled out so
scantily, as too plainly intimated that this sustenance, wretched as it
was, was soon to fail them. Under these circumstances, their spirits
would have sunk, had they not been sustained by the expectation of
succor from Spain; and they cast many a wistful glance on the
Mediterranean, straining their eyes to the farthest verge of the
horizon, to see if they could not descry some friendly sail upon the
waters.

But Philip was not unmindful of them. Independently of the importance of
the posts, he felt his honor to be deeply concerned in the protection of
the brave men, who were battling there, for the cause not merely of
Castile, but of Christendom. No sooner had he been advised by Alcaudete
of the peril in which he stood, than he gave orders that a fleet should
be equipped to go to his relief. But such orders, in the disabled
condition of the navy, were more easily given than executed. Still,
efforts were made to assemble an armament, and get it ready in the
shortest possible time. Even the vessels employed to convoy the India
galleons were pressed into the service. The young cavaliers of the
southern provinces eagerly embarked as volunteers in an expedition which
afforded them an opportunity for avenging the insults offered to the
Spanish arms. The other states bordering on the Mediterranean, which
had, in fact, almost as deep an interest in the cause as Spain herself,
promptly furnished their contingents. To these were to be added, as
usual, the galleys of the Knights of Malta, always foremost to unfurl
the banner in a war with the infidel. In less than two months an
armament consisting of forty-two large galleys, besides smaller vessels,
well manned and abundantly supplied with provisions and military stores,
was assembled in the port of Malaga. It was placed under the command of
Don Antonio de Mendoza; who, on the sixth of June, weighed anchor, and
steered directly for the Barbary coast.

[Sidenote: WAR ON THE BARBARY COAST.]

On the morning of the eighth, at early dawn, the sentinels on the
ramparts of Mazarquivir descried the fleet like a dark speck on the
distant waters. As it drew nearer, and the rising sun, glancing on the
flag of Castile, showed that the long-promised succor was at hand, the
exhausted garrison, almost on the brink of despair, gave themselves up
to a delirium of joy. They embraced one another, like men rescued from a
terrible fate, and, with swelling hearts, offered up thanksgivings to
the Almighty for their deliverance. Soon the cannon of Mazarquivir
proclaimed the glad tidings to the garrison of Oran, who replied, from
their battlements, in thunders which carried dismay into the hearts of
the besiegers. If Hassem had any doubt of the cause of these rejoicings,
it was soon dispelled by several Moorish vessels, which, scudding before
the enemy, like the smaller birds before the eagle, brought report that
a Spanish fleet under full sail was standing for Mazarquivir.

No time was to be lost. He commanded his ships lying in the harbor to
slip their cables and make the best of their way to Algiers. Orders were
given at once to raise the siege. Everything was abandoned. Whatever
could be of service to the enemy was destroyed. Hassem caused his guns
to be overcharged, and blew them to pieces.[1285] He disencumbered
himself of whatever might retard his movements, and, without further
delay, began his retreat.

No sooner did Alcaudete descry the army of the besiegers on its march
across the hills, than he sallied out, at the head of his cavalry, to
annoy them on their retreat. He was soon joined by his brother from
Mazarquivir, with such of the garrison as were in condition for service.
But the enemy had greatly the start of them. When the Spaniards came up
with his rear-guard, they found it entirely composed of janizaries; and
this valiant corps, maintaining its usual discipline, faced about and
opposed so determined a front to the assailants, that Alcaudete, not
caring to risk the advantages he had already gained, drew off his men,
and left a free passage to the enemy. The soldiers of the two garrisons
now mingled together, and congratulated one another on their happy
deliverance, recounting their exploits, and the perils and privations
they had endured; while Alcaudete, embracing his heroic brother, could
hardly restrain his tears, as he gazed on his wan, emaciated
countenance, and read there the story of his sufferings.

The tidings of the repulse of the Moslems were received with unbounded
joy throughout Spain. The deepest sympathy had been felt for the brave
men who, planted on the outposts of the empire, seemed to have been
abandoned to their fate. The king shared in the public sentiment, and
showed his sense of the gallant conduct of Alcaudete and his soldiers,
by the honors and emoluments he bestowed on them. That nobleman, besides
the grant of a large annual revenue, was made viceroy of Navarre. His
brother, Don Martin de Cordova, received the _encomienda_ of Hornachos,
with the sum of six thousand ducats. Officers of inferior rank obtained
the recompense due to their merits. Even the common soldiers were not
forgotten; and the government, with politic liberality, settled pensions
on the wives and children of those who had perished in the siege.[1286]

Philip now determined to follow up his success; and, instead of
confining himself to the defensive, he prepared to carry the war into
the enemy's country. His first care, however, was to restore the
fortifications of Mazarquivir, which soon rose from their ruins in
greater strength and solidity than before. He then projected an
expedition against Peñon de Velez de la Gomera, a place situated to the
west of his own possessions on the Barbary coast. It was a rocky island
fortress, which, from the great strength of its defences, as well as
from its natural position, was deemed impregnable. It was held by a
fierce corsair, whose name had long been terrible in these seas. In the
summer of 1564, the king, with the aid of his allies, got together a
powerful armament, and sent it at once against Peñon de Velez. This
fortress did not make the resistance to have been expected; and, after a
siege of scarcely a week's duration, the garrison submitted to the
superior valor--or numbers--of the Christians.[1287]

This conquest was followed up, the ensuing year, by an expedition under
Don Alvaro Bazan, the first marquis of Santa Cruz,--a name memorable in
the naval annals of Castile. The object of the expedition was to block
up the entrance to the river Tetuan, in the neighborhood of the late
conquest. The banks of this river had long been the refuge of a horde of
pestilent marauders, who, swarming out of its mouth, spread over the
Mediterranean, and fell heavily on the commerce of the Christians. Don
Alvaro accomplished his object in the face of a desperate enemy, and,
after some hard fighting, succeeded in sinking nine brigantines laden
with stones in the mouth of the river, and thus effectually obstructed
its navigation.[1288]

These brilliant successes caused universal rejoicing through Spain and
the neighboring countries. They were especially important for the
influence they exerted on the spirits of the Christians, depressed as
these had been by a long series of maritime reverses. The Spaniards
resumed their ancient confidence, as they saw that victory had once more
returned to their banner; and their ships, which had glided like
spectres under the shadow of the coast, now, losing their apprehensions
of the corsair, pushed boldly out upon the deep. The Moslems, on the
other hand, as they beheld their navies discomfited, and one strong
place after another wrested from their grasp, lost heart, and for a
time, at least, were in no condition for active enterprise.

But while the arms of Spain were thus successful in chastising the
Barbary corsairs, rumors reached the country of hostile preparations
going forward in the East, of a more formidable character than any on
the shores of Africa. The object of these preparations was not Spain
itself, but Malta. Yet this little island, the bulwark of Christendom,
was so intimately connected with the fortunes of Spain, that an account
of its memorable siege can hardly be deemed an episode in the history of
Philip the Second.

[Sidenote: MASTERS OF RHODES.]




CHAPTER II.

THE KNIGHTS HOSPITALLERS OF ST. JOHN.

Masters of Rhodes.--Driven from Rhodes.--Established at Malta.--Menaced
by Solyman.--La Valette.--His Preparations for Defence.

1565.


The order of the Knights of Malta traces its origin to a remote
period--to the time of the first crusade, in the eleventh century. A
religious association was then formed in Palestine, under the title of
Hospitallers of St. John the Baptist, the object of which, as the name
imports, was to minister to the wants of the sick. There was a good
harvest of these among the poor pilgrims who wandered from all parts of
Europe to the Holy Land. It was not long before the society assumed
other duties, of a military nature, designed for the defence of the
pilgrim no less than his relief; and the new society, under the name of
the Knights Hospitallers of St. John, besides the usual monastic vows,
pledged themselves to defend the Holy Sepulchre, and to maintain
perpetual war against the infidel.[1289]

In its new form, so consonant with the spirit of the age, the
institution found favor with the bold crusaders, and the accession of
members from different parts of Christendom greatly enlarged its power
and political consequence. It soon rivalled the fraternity of the
Templars, and, like that body, became one of the principal pillars of
the throne of Jerusalem. After the fall of that kingdom, and the
expulsion of the Christians from Palestine, the Knights of St. John
remained a short while in Cyprus, when they succeeded in conquering
Rhodes from the Turks, and thus secured to themselves a permanent
residence.

Placed in the undisputed sovereignty of this little island, the Knights
of Rhodes, as they were now usually called, found themselves on a new
and independent theatre of action, where they could display all the
resources of their institutions, and accomplish their glorious
destinies. Thrown into the midst of the Mussulmans, on the borders of
the Ottoman Empire, their sword was never in the scabbard. Their galleys
spread over the Levant, and, whether alone or with the Venetians,--the
rivals of the Turks in those seas,--they faithfully fulfilled their vow
of incessant war with the infidel. Every week saw their victorious
galleys returning to port with the rich prizes taken from the enemy; and
every year the fraternity received fresh accessions of princes and
nobles from every part of Christendom, eager to obtain admission into so
illustrious an order. Many of these were possessed of large estates,
which, on their admission, were absorbed in those of the community.
Their manors, scattered over Europe, far exceeded in number those of
their rivals, the Templars, in their most palmy state.[1290] And on the
suppression of that order, such of its vast possessions as were not
seized by the rapacious princes in whose territories they were lodged,
were suffered to pass into the hands of the Knights of St. John. The
commanderies of the latter--those conventual establishments which
faithfully reflected the parent institution in their discipline--were so
prudently administered, that a large surplus from their revenues was
annually remitted to enrich the treasury of the order.

The government of this chivalrous fraternity, as provided by the
statutes which formed its written constitution, was in its nature
aristocratical. At the head was the grand-master, elected by the knights
from their own body, and, like the doge of Venice, holding his office
for life, with an authority scarcely larger than that of this dignitary.
The legislative and judicial functions were vested in councils, in which
the grand-master enjoyed no higher privilege than that of a double vote.
But his patronage was extensive, for he had the nomination to the most
important offices, both at home and abroad. The variety and
high-sounding titles of these offices may provoke a smile in the reader,
who might fancy himself occupied with the concerns of a great empire,
rather than those of a little brotherhood of monks. The grand-master,
indeed, in his manner of living, affected the state of a sovereign
prince. He sent his ambassadors to the principal European courts; and a
rank was conceded to him next to that of crowned heads,--above that of
any ducal potentate.[1291]

He was enabled to maintain this position by the wealth which, from the
sources already enumerated, flowed into the exchequer. Great sums were
spent in placing the island in the best state of defence, in
constructing public works, palaces for the grand-master, aad ample
accommodations for the various _languages_,--a technical term, denoting
the classification of the members according to their respective nations;
finally, in the embellishment of the capital, which vied in the splendor
of its architecture with the finest cities of Christendom.

Yet, with this show of pomp and magnificence, the Knights of Rhodes did
not sink into the enervating luxury which was charged on the Templars,
nor did they engage in those worldly, ambitious schemes which provoked
the jealousy of princes, and brought ruin on that proud order. In
prosperity as in poverty, they were still true to the principles of
their institution. Their galleys still spread over the Levant, and came
back victorious from their _caravans_, as their cruises against the
Moslems were termed. In every enterprise set on foot by the Christian
powers against the enemies of the Faith, the red banner of St. John,
with his eight-pointed cross of white, was still to be seen glittering
in the front of battle. There is no example of a military institution
having religion for its object which, under every change of condition,
and for so many centuries, maintained so inflexibly the purity of its
principles, and so conscientiously devoted itself to the great object
for which it was created.

[Sidenote: MASTERS OF RHODES.]

It was not to be expected that a mighty power, like that of the Turks,
would patiently endure the existence of a petty enemy on its borders,
which, if not formidable from extent of population and empire, like
Venice, was even more annoying by its incessant hostilities, and its
depredations on the Turkish commerce. More than one sultan, accordingly,
hoping to rid themselves of the annoyance, fitted out expeditions
against the island, with the design of crushing the hornets in their
nest. But in every attempt they were foiled by the valor of this little
band of Christian chivalry. At length, in 1522, Solyman the Second led
an expedition in person against Rhodes. For six months the brave
knights, with their own good swords, unaided by a single European power,
withstood the whole array of the Ottoman empire; and when at length,
compelled to surrender, they obtained such honorable terms from Solyman
as showed he knew how to respect valor, though in a Christian foe.

Once more without a home, the Knights of St. John were abroad on the
world. The European princes, affecting to consider the order as now
extinct, prepared to confiscate whatever possessions it had in their
several dominions. From this ruin it was saved by the exertions of
L'Isle Adam, the grand-master, who showed, at this crisis, as much skill
in diplomacy as he had before shown prowess in the field. He visited the
principal courts in person, and by his insinuating address, as well as
arguments, not only turned the sovereigns from their purpose, but
secured effectual aid for his unfortunate brethren. The pope offered
them a temporary asylum in the papal territory; and Charles the Fifth
was induced to cede to the order the island of Malta, and its
dependencies, with entire jurisdiction over them, for their permanent
residence.

Malta, which had been annexed by Charles's predecessors to Sicily, had
descended to that monarch as part of the dominions of the crown of
Aragon. In thus ceding it to the Knights of St. John, the politic prince
consulted his own interests quite as much as those of the order. He drew
no revenue from the rocky isle, but, on the contrary, was charged with
its defence against the Moorish corsairs, who made frequent descents on
the spot, wasting the country, and dragging off the miserable people
into slavery. By this transfer of the island to the military order of
St. John, he not only relieved himself of all further expense on its
account, but secured a permanent bulwark for the protection of his own
dominions.

It was wise in the emperor to consent that the gift should be burdened
with no other condition than the annual payment of a falcon in token of
his feudal supremacy. It was also stipulated, that the order should at
no time bear arms against Sicily; a stipulation hardly necessary with
men who, by their vows, were pledged to fight in defence of Christendom,
and not against it.[1292]

In October, 1530, L'Isle Adam and his brave associates took possession
of their new domain. Their hearts sunk within them, as their eyes
wandered over the rocky expanse, forming a sad contrast to the beautiful
"land of roses" which had so long been their abode.[1293] But it was not
very long before the wilderness before them was to blossom like the rose
under their diligent culture.[1294] Earth was brought in large
quantities, and at great cost, from Sicily. Terraces to receive it were
hewn in the steep sides of the rock; and the soil, quickened by the
ardent sun of Malta, was soon clothed with the glowing vegetation of the
south. Still, it did not raise the grain necessary for the consumption
of the island. This was regularly imported from Sicily, and stored in
large pits or caverns, excavated in the rock, which, hermetically
closed, preserved their contents unimpaired for years. In a short time,
too, the island bristled with fortifications, which, combined with its
natural defences, enabled its garrison to defy the attacks of the
corsair. To these works was added the construction of suitable dwellings
for the accommodation of the order. But it was long after, and not until
the land had been desolated by the siege on which we are now to enter,
that it was crowned with the stately edifices which eclipsed those of
Rhodes itself, and made Malta the pride of the Mediterranean.[1295]

In their new position the knights were not very differently situated
from what they had been in the Levant. They were still encamped amongst
the infidel, with the watch-fires of the enemy blazing around them.
Again their galleys sailed forth to battle with the corsairs, and
returned laden with the spoils of victory. Still the white cross of St.
John was to be seen in the post of danger. In all the expeditions of
Charles the Fifth and Philip the Second against the Barbary Moors, from
the siege of Tunis to the capture of Peñon de Velez, they bore a
prominent part. With the bravery of the soldier, they combined the skill
of the mariner; and on that disastrous day when the Christian navy was
scattered before Algiers, the Maltese galleys were among the few that
rode out the tempest.[1296] It was not long before the name of the
Knights of Malta became as formidable on the southern shores of the
Mediterranean, as that of the Knights of Rhodes had been in the East.

[Sidenote: LA VALETTE.]

Occasionally their galleys, sweeping by the mouth of the Adriatic,
passed into the Levant, and boldly encountered their old enemy on his
own seas, even with odds greatly against them.[1297] The Moors of the
Barbary coast, smarting under the losses inflicted on them by their
indefatigable foe, more than once besought the sultan to come to their
aid, and avenge the insults offered to his religion on the heads of the
offenders. At this juncture occurred the capture of a Turkish galleon in
the Levant. It was a huge vessel, richly laden, and defended by twenty
guns and two hundred janizaries. After a desperate action, she was taken
by the Maltese galleys, and borne off, a welcome prize, to the island.
She belonged to the chief eunuch of the imperial harem, some of the fair
inmates of which were said to have had an interest in the precious
freight.[1298] These persons now joined with the Moors in the demand for
vengeance. Solyman shared in the general indignation at the insult
offered to him under the walls, as it were, of his own capital; and he
resolved to signalize the close of his reign by driving the knights from
Malta, as he had the commencement of it by driving them from Rhodes.

As it was not improbable that the Christian princes would rally in
support of an order which had fought so many battles for Christendom,
Solyman made his preparations on a formidable scale. Rumors of these
spread far and wide; and, as their object was unknown, the great powers
on the Mediterranean, each fancying that its own dominions might be the
point of attack, lost no time in placing their coasts in a state of
defence. The king of Spain sent orders to his viceroy in Sicily to equip
such a fleet as would secure the safety of that island.

Meanwhile, the grand-master of Malta, by means of spies whom he secretly
employed in Constantinople, received intelligence of the real purpose of
the expedition. The post of grand-master, at this time, was held by Jean
Parisot de la Valette, a man whose extraordinary character, no less than
the circumstances in which he was placed, has secured him an
imperishable name on the page of history. He was of an ancient family
from the south of France, being of the _language_ of Provence. He was
now in the sixty-eighth year of his age.[1299] In his youth he had
witnessed the memorable siege of Rhodes, and had passed successively
through every post in the order, from the humblest to the highest, which
he now occupied. With large experience he combined a singular
discretion, and an inflexible spirit, founded on entire devotion to the
great cause in which he was engaged. It was the conviction of this
self-devotion which, in part, at least, may have given La Valette that
ascendancy over the minds of his brethren, which was so important at a
crisis like the present. It may have been the anticipation of such a
crisis that led to his election as grand-master in 1557, when the
darkness coming over the waters showed the necessity of an experienced
pilot to weather the storm.

No sooner had the grand-master learned the true destination of the
Turkish armament, than he sent his emissaries to the different Christian
powers, soliciting aid for the order in its extremity. He summoned the
knights absent in foreign lands to return to Malta, and take part with
their brethren in the coming struggle. He imported large supplies of
provisions and military stores from Sicily and Spain. He drilled the
militia of the island, and formed an effective body of more than three
thousand men; to which was added a still greater number of Spanish and
Italian troops, raised for him by the knights who were abroad. This
force was augmented by the extraordinary addition of five hundred
galley-slaves, whom La Valette withdrew from the oar, promising to give
them their freedom if they served him faithfully. Lastly, the
fortifications were put in repair, strengthened with outworks, and
placed in the best condition for resisting the enemy. All classes of the
inhabitants joined in this work. The knights themselves took their part
in the toilsome drudgery; and the grand-master did not disdain to labor
with the humblest of his followers. He not only directed, but, as hands
were wanted, he set the example of carrying his own orders into
execution. Wherever his presence was needed, he was to be
found,--ministering to the sick, cheering the desponding, stimulating
the indifferent, chiding the dilatory, watching over the interests of
the little community intrusted to his care with parental solicitude.

While thus employed, La Valette received a visit from the Sicilian
viceroy, Don Garcia de Toledo, the conqueror of Peñon de Velez. He came,
by Philip's orders, to concert with the grand-master the best means of
defence. He assured the latter that, so soon as he had assembled a
fleet, he would come to his relief; and he left his natural son with
him, to learn the art of war under so experienced a commander. La
Valette was comforted by the viceroy's promises of succor. But he well
knew that it was not to the promises of others he was to trust, in his
present exigency, but to his own efforts and those of his brave
companions.

The knights, in obedience to his call, had for the most part now
arrived, each bringing with him a number of servants and other
followers. Some few of the more aged and infirm remained behind; but
this not so much from infirmity and age, as from the importance of
having some of its members to watch over the interests of the community
at foreign courts. La Valette was touched by the alacrity with which his
brethren repaired to their posts, to stand by their order in the dark
hour of its fortunes. He tenderly embraced them; and soon afterwards,
calling them together, he discoursed with them on the perilous position
in which they stood, with the whole strength of the Moorish and Turkish
empires mustering against them. "It was the great battle of the Cross
and the Koran," he said, "that was now to be fought. They were the
chosen soldiers of the Cross; and, if Heaven required the sacrifice of
their lives, there could be no better time than this glorious occasion."
The grand-master then led the way to the chapel of the convent, where he
and his brethren, after devoutly confessing, partook of the sacrament,
and, at the foot of the altar, solemnly renewed their vows to defend the
Church against the infidel. With minds exalted by these spiritual
exercises, all worldly interests seemed, from that moment, says their
historian, to lose their hold on their affections. They stood like a
company of martyrs,--the forlorn hope of Christendom, prepared, as their
chief had said, to offer up their lives a sacrifice to the great cause
in which they were engaged. Such were the feelings with which La Valette
and his companions, having completed their preparations, now calmly
awaited the coming of the enemy.[1300]




CHAPTER III.

SIEGE OF MALTA.

Condition of Malta.--Arrival of the Turks.--They reconnoitre the
Island.--Siege of St. Elmo.--Its Heroic Defence.--Its Fall.

1565.


[Sidenote: CONDITION OF THE ISLAND.]

Before entering on the particulars of this memorable siege, it will be
necessary to make the reader somewhat acquainted with the country which
was the scene of operations. The island of Malta is about seventeen
miles long and nine broad. At the time of the siege it contained some
twelve thousand inhabitants, exclusive of the members of the order. They
were gathered, for the most part, into wretched towns and villages, the
principal one of which was defended by a wall of some strength, and was
dignified with the title of Civita Notable--"Illustrious City." As it
was situated in the interior, near the centre of the island, the knights
did not take up their residence there, but preferred the north-eastern
part of Malta, looking towards Sicily, and affording a commodious harbor
for their galleys.

The formation of the land in this quarter is very remarkable. A narrow,
rocky promontory stretches out into the Mediterranean, dividing its
waters into two small gulfs,--that on the west being called _Marza
Musiette_, or Port Musiette, and that towards the east, which now bears
the name of Valetta Harbor, being then known as the Great Port. The
extreme point of the promontory was crowned by the Castle of St. Elmo,
built by the order, soon after its arrival in the island, on the spot
which commanded the entrance into both harbors. It was a fortress of
considerable strength, for which it was chiefly indebted to its
position. Planted on the solid rock, and washed, for the greater part of
its circuit, by the waters of the Mediterranean, it needed no other
defence on that quarter. But towards the land it was more open to an
enemy; and, though protected by a dry ditch and a counterscarp, it was
thought necessary to secure it still further, by means of a ravelin on
the south-west, which La Valette had scarcely completed before the
arrival of the Turks.

Port Musiette, on the west, is that in which vessels now perform
quarantine. The Great Port was the most important; for round that was
gathered the little community of knights. Its entrance, which is not
more than a quarter of a mile in width, is commanded by two headlands,
one of them crested, as above mentioned, by the fort of St. Elmo. The
length of the harbor may be nearly two miles; and the water is of
sufficient depth for ships of the greatest burden to ride there in
security, sheltered within the encircling arms of the coast from the
storms of the Mediterranean.

From the eastern side of this basin shoot out two projecting headlands,
forming smaller harbors within the Great Port. The most northerly of
these strips of land was defended by the Castle of St. Angelo, round
which clustered a little town, called by way of eminence _Il Borgo_,
"The Burgh,"--now more proudly styled "The Victorious City." It was here
that the order took up its residence,--the grand-masters establishing
themselves in the castle; and great pains were taken to put the latter
in a good state of defence, while the town was protected by a wall. On
the parallel strip of land, known as the island of La Sangle, from a
grand-master of that name, stood a fort, called the fort of St. Michael,
with a straggling population gathered around it, now busily employed in
strengthening the defences. Between the two headlands lay the Port of
Galleys, serving, as its name imports, as a haven for the little navy of
the order. This port was made more secure by an iron chain drawn across
its entrance, from the extreme point of one headland to the other.

Such were the works constructed by the knights in the brief period
during which they had occupied the island. They were so far imperfect,
that many a commanding eminence, which the security of the country
required to be strongly fortified, still remained as naked and exposed
as at the time of their arrival. This imperfect state of its defences
presented a strong contrast to the present condition of Malta, bristling
all over with fortifications, which seem to form part of the living rock
out of which they spring, and which, in the hands of a power that holds
possession of the sea, might bid defiance to the world.

The whole force which La Valette could muster in defence of the island
amounted to about nine thousand men. This included seven hundred
knights, of whom about six hundred had already arrived. The remainder
were on their way, and joined him at a later period of the siege.
Between three and four thousand were Maltese, irregularly trained, but
who had already gained some experience of war in their contests with the
Barbary corsairs. The rest of the army, with the exception of five
hundred galley slaves, already noticed, and the personal followers of
the knights, was made up of levies from Spain and Italy, who had come
over to aid in the defence. The useless part of the population--the
infirm and the aged--had for the most part been shipped off to Sicily.
There still remained, however, numbers of women and children; and the
former, displaying the heroic constancy which, in times of trouble, so
often distinguishes the sex, did good service during the siege, by
tending the sick and by cheering the flagging spirits of the
soldier.[1301]

This little army La Valette distributed on the several stations,
assigning each to some one of the _languages_, or nations, that the
spirit of emulation might work its effects on the chivalry of the order.
The castle of St. Elmo was the point of first importance. It covered so
contracted a piece of ground, that it scarcely afforded accommodation
for a thousand men; and not more than eight hundred were shut up within
its walls at the commencement of the siege.[1302] Its dimensions did not
admit of its being provided with magazines capable of holding any large
quantity of provisions, or military stores, for which it was
unfortunately obliged to rely on its communication with Il Borgo, the
town across the harbor. The masonry of the fort was not in the best
repute: though the works were lined with at least thirty pieces of
artillery, looking chiefly towards the land. Its garrison, which usually
amounted to sixty soldiers, was under the command of an aged knight,
named De Broglio. The grand-master reinforced this body with sixty
knights under the bailiff of Negropont, a veteran in whose well-tried
valor La Valette placed entire confidence. He was strengthened by two
companies of foreign levies, under the command of a Spanish cavalier
named La Cerda.[1303]

Various other points were held by small detachments, with some one of
the order at the head of each. But the strength of the force, including
nearly all the remainder of the knights, was posted in the castle of St.
Angelo and in the town at its base. Here La Valette took his own
station, as the spot which, by its central position, would enable him to
watch over the interests of the whole. All was bustle in this quarter,
as the people were busily employed in strengthening the defences of the
town, and in razing buildings in the suburbs, which the grand-master
feared might afford a lodgement to the enemy. In this work their labors
were aided by a thousand slaves, taken from the prison, and chained
together in couples.[1304]

[Sidenote: ARRIVAL OF THE TURKS.]

On the morning of the eighteenth of May, 1565, the Turkish fleet was
descried by the sentinels of St. Elmo and St. Angelo, about thirty miles
to the eastward, standing directly for Malta. A gun, the signal agreed
on, was fired from each of the forts, to warn the inhabitants of the
country to withdraw into their villages. The fleet amounted to one
hundred and thirty royal galleys with fifty of lesser size, besides a
number of transports with the cannon, ammunition, and other military
stores.[1305] The breaching artillery consisted of sixty-three guns, the
smallest of which threw a ball of fifty-six pounds, and some few, termed
_basilicas_, carried marble bullets of a hundred and twelve pounds'
weight.[1306] The Turks were celebrated for the enormous calibre of
their guns, from a very early period; and they continued to employ those
pieces long after they had given way, in the rest of Europe, to cannon
of more moderate and manageable dimensions.

The number of soldiers on board, independently of the mariners, and
including six thousand janizaries, was about thirty thousand,--the
flower of the Ottoman army.[1307] Their appointments were on the most
perfect scale, and everything was provided requisite for the prosecution
of the siege. Never, probably, had there been so magnificent an armament
in the waters of the Mediterranean. It was evident that Solyman was bent
on the extermination of the order which he had once driven into exile,
but which had now renewed its strength, and become the most formidable
enemy of the Crescent.

The command of the expedition was intrusted to two officers. One of
these, Piali, was the same admiral who defeated the Spaniards at Gelves.
He had the direction of the naval operations. The land forces were given
to Mustapha, a veteran nearly seventy years of age, whose great
experience, combined with military talents of a high order, had raised
him to the head of his profession. Unfortunately, his merits as an
officer were tarnished by his cruelty. Besides the command of the army,
he had a general authority over the whole expedition, which excited the
jealousy of Piali, who thought himself injured by the preference given
to his rival. Thus feelings of mutual distrust arose in the bosoms of
the two chiefs, which to some extent paralyzed the operations of each.

The Turkish armada steered for the south-eastern quarter of the island,
and cast anchor in the port of St. Thomas. The troops speedily
disembarked, and spread themselves in detached bodies over the land,
devastating the country, and falling on all stragglers whom they met in
the fields. Mustapha, with the main body of the army, marching a short
distance into the interior, occupied a rising ground, only a few miles
from Il Borgo. It was with difficulty that the inhabitants could be
prevented from issuing from the gates, in order to gaze on the show
presented by the invaders, whose magnificent array stretched far beyond
the hills, with their bright arms and banners glittering in the sun, and
their warlike music breathing forth notes of defiance to the Christians.
La Valette, in his turn, caused the standard of St. John to be unfurled
from the ramparts of the castle, and his trumpets to answer in a similar
strain of defiance to that of the enemy.[1308]

Meanwhile the grand marshal, Coppier, had sallied from the town at the
head of a small troop, and fallen upon some of the detachments which
were scouring the country. The success of his arms was shown by the gory
heads of the slaughtered Turks, which he sent back to Il Borgo as the
trophies of victory.[1309] La Valette's design, in permitting these
encounters, was to familiarize his men with the novel aspect and
peculiar weapons of their enemies, as well as with the fierce war-cries
which the Turks raised in battle. But the advantages gained in these
skirmishes did not compensate the losses, however light, on the part of
the Christians; and after two knights and a number of the common file
had been slain, the grand-master ordered his followers to remain quietly
within the walls of the town.

It was decided, in the Turkish council of war, to begin operations with
the siege of the castle of St. Elmo; as the possession of this place was
necessary to secure a safe harbor for the Turkish fleet. On the
twenty-fourth of May, the trenches were opened, if that can be said
where, from the rocky, impenetrable nature of the ground, no trenches
could be dug, and the besiegers were obliged to shelter themselves
behind a breastwork formed of planks, having the space between them
filled with earth brought from a distance, and held together by straw
and rushes. At certain intervals Mustapha indicated the points for
batteries. The principal of these was a battery where ten guns were
mounted, some of them of the largest calibre; and although artillery
practice was very different from what it is in our times, with so much
greater experience and more manageable engines, yet masonry stronger
than that of St. Elmo might well have crumbled under the masses of stone
and iron that were now hurled against it.

As the works began to give way, it seemed evident that the garrison must
rely more on their own strength than on that of their defences. It was
resolved, therefore, to send to the grand-master and request
reinforcements. The Chevalier de la Cerda was intrusted with the
mission. Crossing over to Il Borgo, he presented himself before La
Valette, and insisted on the necessity of further support if the fort
was to be maintained against the infidel. The grand-master listened,
with a displeasure which he could not conceal, to this application for
aid so early in the siege; especially as it was made in the presence of
many of the knights, who might well be disheartened by it. He coldly
asked La Cerda what loss the garrison had suffered. The knight, evading
the question, replied, that St. Elmo was in the condition of a sick man
who requires the aid of the physician. "I will be the physician," said
La Valette, "and will bring such aid that, if I cannot cure your fears,
I may at least hope to save the place from falling into the hands of the
enemy." So impressed was he with the importance of maintaining this post
to the last extremity, if it were only to gain time for the Sicilian
succors, that he was prepared, as he said, to throw himself into the
fortress, and, if need were, to bury himself in its ruins.

[Sidenote: OPERATIONS AGAINST ST. ELMO.]

From this desperate resolution he was dissuaded by the unanimous voice
of the knights, who represented to him that it was not the duty of the
commander-in-chief to expose himself like a common soldier, and take his
place in the forlorn hope. The grand-master saw the justice of these
remonstrances; and, as the knights contended with one another for the
honor of assuming the post of danger, he allowed fifty of the order,
together with two companies of soldiers, to return with La Cerda to the
fort. The reinforcement was placed under command of the Chevalier de
Medran, a gallant soldier, on whose constancy and courage La Valette
knew he could rely. Before its departure, the strength of the force was
increased by the arrival of several knights from Sicily, who obtained
the grand-master's leave to share the fortunes of their brethren in St.
Elmo. The troops were sent across the harbor, together with supplies of
food and ammunition, in open boats, under cover of a heavy fire from the
guns of St. Angelo. A shot happened to fall on a stone near the
trenches, in which Piali, the Turkish admiral, was standing; and, a
splinter striking him on the head, he was severely, though not mortally
wounded. La Valette took advantage of the confusion created by this
incident to despatch a galley to Sicily, to quicken the operations of
the viceroy, and obtain from him the promised succors. To this Don
Garcia de Toledo replied by an assurance that he should come to his
relief by the middle of June.[1310]

It was now the beginning of that month. Scarcely had De Medran entered
St. Elmo, when he headed a sally against the Turks, slew many in the
trenches, and put the remainder to flight. But they soon returned in
such overwhelming force as compelled the Christians to retreat and take
refuge within their works. Unfortunately, the smoke of the musketry,
borne along by a southerly breeze, drifted in the direction of the
castle; and under cover of it, the Turks succeeded in getting possession
of the counterscarp. As the smoke cleared away, the garrison were
greatly dismayed at seeing the Moslem standard planted on their own
defences. It was in vain they made every effort to recover them. The
assailants, speedily intrenching themselves behind a parapet formed of
gabions, fascines, and wool-sacks, established a permanent lodgement on
the counterscarp.

From this point, they kept up a lively discharge of musketry on the
ravelin, killing such of its defenders as ventured to show themselves.
An untoward event soon put them in possession of the ravelin itself. A
Turkish engineer, reconnoitring that outwork from the counterscarp, is
said to have perceived a sentinel asleep on his post. He gave notice to
his countrymen; and a party of janizaries succeeded, by means of their
ladders, in scaling the walls of the ravelin. The guard, though few in
number and taken by surprise, still endeavored to maintain the place. A
sharp skirmish ensued. But the Turks, speedily reinforced by their
comrades, who flocked to their support, overpowered the Christians, and
forced them to give way. Some few succeeded in effecting their retreat
into the castle. The janizaries followed close on the fugitives. For a
moment it seemed as if Moslem and Christian would both be hurried along
by the tide of battle into the fort itself. But fortunately the bailiff
of Negropont, De Medran, and some other cavaliers, heading their
followers, threw themselves on the enemy, and checked the pursuit. A
desperate struggle ensued, in which science was of no avail, and victory
waited on the strongest. In the end the janizaries were forced to
retreat in their turn. Every inch of ground was contested; until the
Turks, pressed hard by their adversaries, fell back into the ravelin,
where, with the aid of their comrades, they made a resolute stand
against the Christians. Two cannon of the fortress were now brought to
bear on the outwork. But, though their volleys told with murderous
effect, the Turks threw themselves into the midst of the fire, and
fearlessly toiled, until, by means of gabions, sand-bags, and other
materials, they had built up a parapet which secured them from
annoyance. All further contest was rendered useless; and the knights,
abandoning this important outwork to the assailants, sullenly withdrew
into the fortress.[1311]

While this was going on, a fresh body of Turks, bursting into the ditch,
through a breach in the counterscarp, endeavored to carry the fortress
by escalade. Fortunately, their ladders were too short; and the
garrison, plying them with volleys of musketry, poured down, at the same
time, such a torrent of missiles on their heads as soon strewed the
ditch with mangled limbs and carcasses. At this moment a party, sallying
from the fort, fell on the enemy with great slaughter, and drove
them--such as were in condition to fly--back into their trenches.

The engagement, brought on, as we have seen, by accident, lasted several
hours. The loss of the Turks greatly exceeded that of the garrison,
which amounted to less than a hundred men, twenty of whom were members
of the order. But the greatest loss of the besieged was that of the
counterscarp and ravelin. Thus shorn of its outworks, the castle of St.
Elmo stood like some bare and solitary trunk exposed to all the fury of
the tempest.[1312]

The loss of the ravelin gave the deepest concern to La Valette, which
was not mitigated by the consideration that it was to be charged, in
part at least, on the negligence of its defenders. It made him the more
solicitous to provide for the security of the castle; and he sent his
boats over to remove the wounded, and replace them by an equal number of
able-bodied knights and soldiers. It was his intention that the garrison
should not be encumbered with any who were unable to assist in the
defence. Among the new recruits was the Chevalier de Miranda,--one of
the most illustrious members of the order, who had lately arrived from
Sicily,--a soldier whose personal authority, combined with great
military knowledge, proved eminently useful to the garrison.

The loss which the besiegers had sustained in the late encounter was
more than counterbalanced by the arrival, at this time, of Dragut, the
famous pasha of Tripoli, with thirteen Moorish galleys. He was welcomed
by salvos of artillery and the general rejoicing of the army; and this
not so much on account of the reinforcement which he brought--the want
of which was not then felt--as of his reputation; for he was no less
celebrated as an engineer than as a naval commander. The sultan, who had
the highest opinion of his merits, had ordered his generals to show him
the greatest deference; and they, at once, advised with him as to the
best means of prosecuting the siege. The effect of his counsel was soon
seen in the more judicious and efficient measures that were adopted. A
battery of four culverins was established on the western headland
commanding the entrance of Port Musiette. It was designed to operate on
the western flank of the fortress; and the point of land on which it
stood is still known by the name of the redoubtable corsair.

Another battery, much more formidable from the number and size of the
pieces, was raised on an eminence to the south of St. Elmo, and played
both upon that fort and upon the castle of St. Angelo. The counterscarp
of the former fortress was shaved away, so as to allow a free range to
the artillery of the besiegers;[1313] and two cannon were planted on the
ravelin, which directed a searching fire on the interior of the
fortress, compelling the garrison to shelter themselves behind
retrenchments constructed under the direction of Miranda.[1314]

[Sidenote: HEROIC DEFENCE OF ST. ELMO.]

The artillery of the Turks now opened with dreadful effect, as they
concentrated their fire on the naked walls of St. Elmo. No masonry could
long withstand the tempest of iron and ponderous marble shot which was
hurled from the gigantic engines of the besiegers. Fragments of the wall
fell off as if it had been made of plaster; and St. Elmo trembled to its
foundations under the thunders of the terrible ordnance. The heart of
the stoutest warrior might well have faltered as he saw the rents each
day growing wider and wider, as if gaping to give entrance to the fierce
multitude that was swarming at the gates.

In this extremity, with the garrison wasted by the constant firing of
the enemy, worn down by excessive toil, many of the knights wounded, all
of them harassed by long-protracted vigils, it was natural that the
greater part should feel that they had done all that duty required of
them, and that, without loss of honor, they might retire from a post
that was no longer tenable. They accordingly resolved to apply to the
grand-master to send his boats at once to transport them and the rest of
the garrison to Il Borgo. The person whom they chose for the mission was
the Chevalier de Medran, who, as La Valette would know, was not likely
to exaggerate the difficulties of their situation.

De Medran accordingly crossed the harbor, and, in an interview with the
grand-master, explained the purpose of his visit. He spoke of the
dilapidated state of the fortifications, and dwelt on the forlorn
condition of the garrison, which was only to be sustained by constant
reinforcements from Il Borgo. But this was merely another mode of
consuming the strength of the order. It would be better, therefore,
instead of prolonging a desperate defence, which must end in the ruin of
the defenders, to remove them at once to the town, where they could make
common cause with their brethren against the enemy.

La Valette listened attentively to De Medran's arguments, which were
well deserving of consideration. But, as the affair was of the last
importance to the interests of his little community, he chose to lay it
before the council of _Grand Crosses_,--men who filled the highest
stations in the order. They were unanimously of the same opinion as De
Medran. Not so was La Valette. He felt that with the maintenance of St.
Elmo was connected the very existence of the order. The viceroy of
Sicily, he told his brethren, had declared that, if this strong post
were in the hands of the enemy, he would not hazard his master's fleet
there to save the island. And, next to their own good swords, it was on
the Sicilian succors that they must rely. The knights must maintain the
post at all hazards. The viceroy could not abandon them in their need.
He himself would not desert, them. He would keep them well supplied with
whatever was required for their defence; and, if necessary, would go
over and take the command in person, and make good the place against the
infidel, or die in the breach.

The elder knights, on learning the grand-master's decision, declared
their resolution to abide by it. They knew how lightly he held his life
in comparison with the cause to which it was consecrated; and they
avowed their determination to shed the last drop of their blood in
defence of the post intrusted to them. The younger brethren were not so
easily reconciled to the decision of their superiors. To remain there
longer was a wanton sacrifice of life, they said. They were penned up
in the fort, like sheep, tamely waiting to be devoured by the fierce
wolves that were thirsting for their blood. This they could not endure;
and, if the grand-master did not send to take them off at once, they
would sally out against the enemy, and find an honorable death on the
field of battle. A letter signed by fifty of the knights, expressing
their determination, was accordingly despatched by one of their number
to Il Borgo.

La Valette received the communication with feelings in which sorrow was
mingled with indignation. It was not enough, he said, for them to die
the honorable death which they so much coveted. They must die in the
manner he prescribed. They were bound to obey his commands. He reminded
them of the vows taken at the time of their profession, and the
obligation of every loyal knight to sacrifice his life, if necessary,
for the good of the order. Nor would they gain anything, he added, by
abandoning their post and returning to the town. The Turkish army would
soon be at its gates, and the viceroy of Sicily would leave them to
their fate.

That he might not appear, however, to pass too lightly by their
remonstrances, La Valette determined to send three commissioners to
inspect St. Elmo, and report on its condition. This would at least have
the advantage of gaining time, when every hour gained was of importance.
He also sent to Sicily to remonstrate on the tardiness of the viceroy's
movements, and to urge the necessity of immediate succors if he would
save the castle.

The commissioners were received with joy by the refractory knights, whom
they found so intent on their departure that they were already beginning
to throw the shot into the wells, to prevent its falling into the hands
of the Turks. They eagerly showed the commissioners every part of the
works, the ruinous condition of which, indeed, spoke more forcibly than
the murmurs of the garrison. Two of the body adopted the views of the
disaffected party, and pronounced the fort no longer tenable. But the
third, an Italian cavalier, named Castriot, was of a different way of
thinking. The fortifications, he admitted, were in a bad state; but it
was far from a desperate one. With fresh troops and the materials that
could be furnished from the town, they might soon be put in condition to
hold out for some time longer. Such an opinion, so boldly avowed, in
opposition to the complaints of the knights, touched their honor. A hot
dispute arose between the parties; and evil consequences might have
ensued, had not the commander, De Broglio, and the bailiff of Negropont,
to stop the tumult, caused the alarm-bell to be rung, which sent every
knight to his post.

Castriot, on his return, made a similar report to the grand-master, and
boldly offered to make good his words. If La Valette would allow him to
muster a force, he would pass over to St. Elmo, and put it in condition
still to hold out against the Ottoman arms.

La Valette readily assented to a proposal which he may perhaps have
originally suggested. No compulsion was to be used in a service of so
much danger. But volunteers speedily came forward, knights, soldiers,
and inhabitants of both town and country. The only difficulty was in
making the selection. All eagerly contended for the glory of being
enrolled in this little band of heroes.

[Sidenote: HEROIC DEFENCE OF ST. ELMO.]

La Valette was cheered by the exhibition of this generous spirit in his
followers. It gave assurance of success stronger than was to be derived
from any foreign aid. He wrote at once to the discontented knights in
St. Elmo, and informed them of what had been done. Their petition was
now granted. They should be relieved that very evening. They had only to
resign their posts to their successors. "Return, my brethren," he
concluded, "to the convent. There you will be safe for the present; and
I shall have less apprehension for the fate of the fortress, on which
the preservation of the island so much depends."

The knights, who had received some intimation of the course the affair
was taking in Il Borgo, were greatly disconcerted by it. To surrender to
others the post committed to their own keeping, would be a dishonor they
could not endure. When the letter of the grand-master arrived, their
mortification was extreme; and it was not diminished by the cool and
cutting contempt but thinly veiled under a show of solicitude for their
personal safety. They implored the bailiff of Negropont to write in
their name to La Valette, and beseech him not to subject them to such a
disgrace. They avowed their penitence for the course they had taken, and
only asked that they might now be allowed to give such proofs of
devotion to the cause as should atone for their errors.

The letter was despatched by a swimmer across the harbor. But the
grand-master coldly answered, that veterans without subordination were
in his eyes of less worth than raw recruits who submitted to discipline.
The wretchedness of the knights at this repulse was unspeakable; for in
their eyes dishonor was far worse than death. In their extremity they
addressed themselves again to La Valette, renewing their protestations
of sorrow for the past, and in humble terms requesting his forgiveness.
The chief felt that he had pushed the matter far enough. It was perhaps
the point to which he had intended to bring it. It would not be well to
drive his followers to despair. He felt now they might be trusted. He
accordingly dismissed the levies, retaining only a part of these brave
men to reinforce the garrison; and with them he sent supplies of
ammunition, and materials for repairing the battered works.[1315]

During this time, the Turkish commander was pressing the siege with
vigor. Day and night, the batteries thundered on the ramparts of the
devoted fortress. The ditch was strewed with fragments torn from the
walls by the iron tempest; and a yawning chasm, which had been gradually
opening on the south-western side of the castle, showed that a
practicable breach was at length effected. The uncommon vivacity with
which the guns played through the whole of the fifteenth of June, and
the false alarms with which the garrison was harassed on the following
night, led to the belief that a general assault was immediately
intended. The supposition was correct. On the sixteenth, at dawn, the
whole force of the besiegers was under arms. The appointed signal was
given by the discharge of a cannon; when a numerous body of janizaries,
formed into column, moved swiftly forward to storm the great breach of
the castle.

Meanwhile the Ottoman fleet, having left its anchorage on the eastern
side of the island, had moved round, and now lay off the mouth of the
Great Port, where its heavy guns were soon brought to bear on the
seaward side of St. Elmo. The battery on Point Dragut opened on the
western flank of the fortress; and four thousand musketeers in the
trenches swept the breach with showers of bullets, and picked off those
of the garrison who showed their heads above the parapet.

The guns of the besieged, during this time, were not idle. They boldly
answered the cannonade of the vessels; and on the land side the play of
artillery and musketry was incessant. The besieged now concentrated
their aim on the formidable body of janizaries, who, as already
noticed, were hurrying forward to the assault. Their leading files were
mowed down, and their flank cruelly torn, by the cannon of St. Angelo,
at less than half a mile's distance. But though staggered by this double
fire on front and flank, the janizaries were not stayed in their career,
nor even thrown into disarray. Heedless of those who fell, the dark
column came steadily on, like a thundercloud; while the groans of the
dying were drowned in the loud battle-cries with which their comrades
rushed to the assault. The fosse, choked up with the ruins of the
ramparts, afforded a bridge to the assailants, who had no need of the
fascines with which their pioneers were prepared to fill up the chasm.
The approach of the breach, however, was somewhat steep; and the breach
itself was defended by a body of knights and soldiers, who poured
volleys of musketry thick as hail on the assailants. Still they pushed
forward through the storm, and, after a fierce struggle, the front rank
found itself at the summit, face to face with its enemies. But the
strength of the Turks was nearly exhausted by their efforts. They were
hewn down by the Christians, who came fresh into action. Yet others
succeeded those who fell; till, thus out-numbered, the knights began to
lose ground, and the forces were more equally matched. Then came the
struggle of man against man, where each party was spurred on by the fury
of religious hate, and Christian and Moslem looked to paradise as the
reward of him who fell in battle against the infidel. No mercy was
asked; none was shown; and long and hard was the conflict between the
flower of the Moslem soldiery and the best knights of Christendom. In
the heat of the fight an audacious Turk planted his standard on the
rampart. But it was speedily wenched away by the Chevalier de Medran,
who cut down the Mussulman, and at the same moment received a mortal
wound from an arquebuse.[1316] As the contest lasted far into the day,
the heat became intense, and added sorely to the distress of the
combatants. Still neither party slackened their efforts. Though several
times repulsed, the Turks returned to the assault with the same spirit
as before; and when sabre and scymitar were broken, the combatants
closed with their daggers, and rolled down the declivity of the breach,
struggling in mortal conflict with each other.

[Sidenote: HEROIC DEFENCE OF ST. ELMO.]

While the work of death was going on in this quarter, a vigorous attempt
was made in another to carry the fortress by escalade. A body of Turks,
penetrating into the fosse, raised their ladders against the walls, and,
pushed forward by their comrades in the rear, endeavored to force an
ascent, under a plunging fire of musketry from the garrison. Fragments
of rook, logs of wood, ponderous iron shot, were rolled over the
parapet, mingled with combustibles and hand-grenades, which, exploding
as they descended, shattered the ladders, and hurled the mangled bodies
of the assailants on the rocky bottom of the ditch. In this contest one
invention proved of singular use to the besieged. It was furnished them
by La Valette, and consisted of an iron hoop, wound round with cloth
steeped in nitre and bituminous substances, which, when ignited, burned
with inextinguishable fury. These hoops, thrown on the assailants,
inclosed them in their fiery circles. Sometimes two were thus imprisoned
in the same hoop; and, as the flowing dress of the Turks favored the
conflagration, they were speedily wrapped in a blaze which scorched them
severely, if it did not burn them to death.[1317] This invention, so
simple,--and rude, as in our day it might be thought,--was so disastrous
in its effects, that it was held in more dread by the Turks than any
other of the fireworks employed by the besieged.

A similar attempt to scale the walls was made on the other side of the
castle, but was defeated by a well-directed fire from the guns of St.
Angelo across the harbor,--which threw their shot with such precision as
to destroy most of the storming party, and compel the rest to abandon
their design.[1318] Indeed, during the whole of the assault, the
artillery of St. Angelo, St. Michael, and Il Borgo kept up so irritating
a fire on the exposed flank and rear of the enemy as greatly embarrassed
his movements, and did good service to the besieged.

Thus the battle raged along the water and on the land. The whole circuit
of the Great Port was studded with fire. A din of hideous noises rose in
the air; the roar of cannon, the rattle of musketry, the hissing of
fiery missiles, the crash of falling masonry, the shrieks of the dying,
and, high above all, the fierce cries of those who struggled for
mastery! To add to the tumult, in the heat of the fight, a spark falling
into the magazine of combustibles in the fortress, it blew up with a
tremendous explosion, drowning every other noise, and for a moment
stilling the combat. A cloud of smoke and vapor, rising into the air,
settled heavily, like a dark canopy, above St. Elmo. It seemed as if a
volcano had suddenly burst from the peaceful waters of the
Mediterranean, belching out volumes of fire and smoke, and shaking the
island to its centre!

The fight had lasted for some hours; and still the little band of
Christian warriors made good their stand against the overwhelming odds
of numbers. The sun had now risen high in the heavens, and as its rays
beat fiercely on the heads of the assailants, their impetuosity began to
slacken. At length, faint with heat and excessive toil, and many
staggering under wounds, it was with difficulty that the janizaries
could be brought back to the attack; and Mustapha saw with chagrin that
St. Elmo was not to be won that day. Soon after noon, he gave the signal
to retreat; and the Moslem host, drawing off under a galling fire from
the garrison, fell back in sullen silence into their trenches, as the
tiger, baffled in his expected prey, takes refuge from the spear of the
hunter in his jungle.[1319]

As the Turks withdrew, the garrison of St. Elmo raised a shout of
victory that reached across the waters, and was cheerily answered from
both St. Angelo and the town, whose inhabitants had watched with intense
interest the current of the fight, on the result of which their own fate
so much depended.

The number of Moslems who perished in the assault can only be
conjectured. But it must have been very large. That of the garrison is
stated as high as three hundred men. Of these, seventeen were knights of
the order. But the common soldier, it was observed, did his duty as
manfully throughout the day as the best knight by whose side he
fought.[1320] Few, if any, of the survivors escaped without wounds.
Suck as were badly injured were transferred at once to the town, and an
equal number of able-bodied troops sent to replace them, together with
supplies of ammunition, and materials for repairing, as far as possible,
the damage to the works. Among those who suffered most from their wounds
was the bailiff of Negropont. He obstinately refused to be removed to
the town; and when urged by La Valette to allow a substitute to be sent
to relieve him, the veteran answered, that he was ready to yield up his
command to any one who should be appointed in his place; but he trusted
he should be allowed still to remain in St. Elmo, and shed the last drop
of his blood in defence of the Faith.[1321]

A similar heroic spirit was shown in the competition of the knights, and
even of the Maltese soldiers, to take the place of those who had fallen
in the fortress. It was now not merely the post of danger, but, as might
be truly said, the post of death. Yet these brave men eagerly contended
for it, as for the palm of glory; and La Valette was obliged to refuse
the application of twelve knights of the _language_ of Italy, on the
ground that the complement of the garrison was full.

The only spark of hope now left was that of receiving the succors from
Sicily. But the viceroy, far from quickening his movements, seemed
willing to play the part of the _matador_ in one of his national
bull-fights,--allowing the contending parties in the arena to exhaust
themselves in the struggle, and reserving his own appearance till a
single thrust from his sword should decide the combat.

Still, some chance of prolonging its existence remained to St. Elmo
while the communication could be maintained with St. Angelo and the
town, by means of which the sinking strength of the garrison was
continually renewed with the fresh life-blood that was poured into its
veins. The Turkish commander at length became aware that, if he would
end the siege, this communication must be cut off. It would have been
well for him had he come to this conclusion sooner.

By the advice of Dragut, the investment of the castle was to be
completed by continuing the lines of intrenchment to the Great Port,
where a battery mounted with heavy guns would command the point of
debarkation. While conducting this work, the Moorish captain was wounded
on the head, by the splinter from a rock struck by a cannon-shot, which
laid him senseless in the trenches. Mustapha, commanding a cloak to be
thrown over the fallen chief, had him removed to his tent. The wound
proved mortal; and though Dragut survived to learn the fate of St. Elmo,
he seems to have been in no condition to aid the siege by his counsels.
The loss of this able captain was the severest blow that could have been
inflicted on the besiegers.

[Sidenote: HEROIC DEFENCE OF ST. ELMO.]

While the intrenchments were in progress, the enemy kept up an
unintermitting fire on the tottering ramparts of the fortress. This was
accompanied by false alarms, and by night attacks, in which the flaming
missiles, as they shot through the air, cast a momentary glare over the
waters, that showed the dark outlines of St. Elmo towering in ruined
majesty above the scene of desolation. The artillery-men of St. Angelo,
in the obscurity of the night, were guided in their aim by the light of
the enemy's fireworks.[1322] These attacks were made by the Turks, not
so much in the expectation of carrying the fort, though they were often
attended with a considerable loss of life, as for the purpose of wearing
out the strength of the garrison. And dreary indeed was the condition of
the latter: fighting by day, toiling through the livelong night to
repair the ravages in the works, they had no power to take either the
rest or the nourishment necessary to recruit their exhausted strength.
To all this was now to be added a feeling of deeper despondency, as they
saw the iron band closing around them which was to sever them for ever
from their friends.

On the eighteenth of the month, the work of investment was completed,
and the extremity of the lines was garnished with a redoubt mounting two
large guns, which, with the musketry from the trenches, would sweep the
landing-place, and effectually cut off any further supplies from the
other side of the harbor. Thus left to their own resources, the days of
the garrison were numbered.

La Valette, who had anxiously witnessed these operations of the enemy,
had done all he could to retard them, by firing incessantly on the
laborers in the hope of driving them from the trenches. When the work
was completed, his soul was filled with anguish; and his noble features,
which usually wore a tinge of melancholy, were clouded with deeper
sadness, as he felt he must now abandon his brave comrades to their
fate.

On the twentieth of the month was the festival of Corpus Christi, which,
in happier days, had been always celebrated with great pomp by the
Hospitallers. They did not fail to observe it, even at this time. A
procession was formed, with the grand-master at its head; and the
knights walked clad in the dark robes of the order, embroidered with the
white cross of Malta. They were accompanied by the whole population of
the place, men, women, and children. They made the circuit of the town,
taking the direction least exposed to the enemy's fire. On reaching the
church, they prostrated themselves on the ground, and, with feelings
rendered yet more solemn by their own situation, and above all by that
of their brave comrades in St. Elmo, they implored the Lord of Hosts to
take pity on their distress, and not to allow his enemies to triumph
over the true soldiers of the Cross.[1323]

During the whole of the twenty-first, the fire of the besiegers was kept
up with more than usual severity, until in some places the crumbling
wall was shot away, down to the bare rock on which it stood.[1324] Their
pioneers, who had collected loads of brushwood for the purpose, filled
up the ditch with their fascines; which, as they were covered with wet
earth, defied the efforts of the garrison to set them on fire.
Throughout the following night a succession of false alarms kept the
soldiers constantly under arms. All this prognosticated a general
assault. It came the next day.

With the earliest streak of light, the Turkish troops were in motion.
Soon they came pouring in over the fosse, which, choked up as it was,
offered no impediment. Some threw themselves on the breach. The knights
and their followers were there to receive them. Others endeavored to
scale the ramparts, but were driven back by showers of missiles. The
musketry was feeble, for ammunition had begun to fail. But everywhere
the assailants were met with the same unconquerable spirit as before. It
seemed as if the defenders of St. Elmo, exhausted as they had been by
their extraordinary sufferings, had renewed their strength as by a
miracle. Thrice the enemy returned to the assault; and thrice he was
repulsed. The carnage was terrible; Christian and Mussulman grappling
fiercely together, until the ruins on which they fought were heaped with
the bodies of the slain.

The combat had lasted several hours. Amazed at the resistance which he
met with from this handful of warriors, Mustapha felt that, if he would
stop the waste of life in his followers, he must defer the possession of
the place for one day longer. Stunned as his enemies must be by the blow
he had now dealt, it would be beyond the powers of nature for them to
stand another assault. He accordingly again gave the signal for retreat;
and the victors again raised the shout--a feeble shout--of triumph;
while the banner of the order, floating from the ramparts, proclaimed
that St. Elmo was still in the hands of the Christians! It was the last
triumph of the garrison.[1325]

They were indeed reduced to extremity; with their ammunition nearly
exhausted; their weapons battered and broken; their fortifications
yawning with breaches, like some tempest-tossed vessel with its seams
opening in every direction, and ready to founder; the few survivors
covered with wounds; and many of them so far crippled as to be scarcely
able to drag their enfeebled body along the ramparts. One more attack,
and the scene would be closed.

In this deplorable state, they determined to make an effort to
communicate with their friends on the other side of the harbor, and
report to them their condition. The distance was not great; and among
the Maltese were many excellent swimmers, who, trained from childhood to
the sea, took to it as to their native element. One of these offered to
bear a message to the grand-master. Diving and swimming long under
water, he was fortunate enough to escape the enemy's bullets, and landed
safe on the opposite shore.

La Valette was deeply affected by this story, though not surprised by
it. With the rest of the knights he had watched with straining eyes the
course of the fight; and though marvelling that, in spite of odds so
great, victory should have remained with the Christians, he knew how
dearly they must have bought it. Though with little confidence in his
success, he resolved to answer their appeal by making one effort to aid
them. Five large barges were instantly launched, and furnished with a
reinforcement of troops and supplies for the garrison. The knights
thronged to the quay, each eagerly contending for the perilous right to
embark in them. They thought only of their comrades in St. Elmo.

It turned out as La Valette had foreseen. The landing-place was
commanded by a battery of heavy guns, and by hundreds of musketeers,
menacing instant death to whoever should approach the shore. But the
knights were not allowed to approach it; for the Turkish admiral, lying
off the entrance of the Great Port, and aware of the preparations that
were making, sent a flotilla of his lighter vessels into the harbor, to
intercept the convoy. And so prompt were their movements, that unless
the Christians had put back again with all speed, they would have been
at once surrounded and captured by the enemy.

The defenders of St. Elmo, who had watched from the ramparts the boats
coming to their assistance, saw the failure of the attempt; and the last
ray of hope faded away in their bosoms. Their doom was sealed. Little
more was left but calmly to await the stroke of the executioner. Yet
they did not abandon themselves to an unmanly despair; but, with heroic
constancy, they prepared to die like martyrs for the good cause to which
they had consecrated their lives.

[Sidenote: Fall of St. Elmo.]

That night was passed, not in vain efforts to repair the defences, with
the hope of protracting existence some few hours longer, but in the
solemn preparation of men who felt themselves standing on the brink of
eternity. They prayed, confessed, received the sacrament, and, exhorting
one another to do their duty, again renewed their vows, which bound them
to lay down their lives, if necessary, in defence of the Faith. Some,
among whom Miranda and the bailiff of Negropont were especially noticed,
went about encouraging and consoling their brethren, and, though covered
with wounds themselves, administering such comfort as they could to the
sick and the dying;--and the dying lay thick around, mingled with the
dead, on the ruins which were soon to become their common
sepulchre.[1326]

Thus passed away the dreary night; when, tenderly embracing one another,
like friends who part for ever, each good knight repaired to his post,
prepared to sell his life as dearly as he could. Some of the more aged
and infirm, and those crippled by their wounds, were borne in the arms
of their comrades to the spot, where, seated on the ruins, and wielding
their ineffectual swords, they prepared, like true and loyal knights, to
die upon the breach.

They did not wait long. The Turks, so often balked of their prey, called
loudly to be led to the assault. Their advance was not checked by the
feeble volleys thrown at random against them from the fortress; and they
were soon climbing the ascent of the breach, still slippery with the
carnage of the preceding day. But with all their numbers, it was long
before they could break the little line of Maltese chivalry which was
there to receive them. Incredible as it may seem, the struggle lasted
for some hours longer, while the fate of St. Elmo hung suspended in the
balance. At length, after a short respite, the Turkish host rallied for
a last assault; and the tide of battle, pouring through the ample breach
with irresistible fury, bore down cavalier and soldier, leaving no
living thing upon the ramparts. A small party of knights, escaping in
the tumult, threw themselves into the chapel; but, finding that no
quarter was given to those who surrendered, they rushed out, and
perished on the swords of the enemy. A body of nine cavaliers, posted
near the end of the fosse, not far from the ground occupied by Dragut's
men, surrendered themselves as prisoners of war to the corsairs; and the
latter, who, in their piratical trade, had learned to regard men as a
kind of merchandise, happily refused to deliver up the Christians to the
Turks, holding them for ransom. These were the only members of the order
who survived the massacre.[1327] A few Maltese soldiers, however,
experienced swimmers, succeeded, amidst the tumult, in reaching the
opposite side of the harbor, where they spread the sad tidings of the
loss of St. Elmo. This was speedily confirmed by the volleys of the
Turkish ordnance; and the standard of the Crescent, planted on the spot
so lately occupied by the banner of St. John, showed too plainly that
this strong post, the key of the island, had passed from the Christians
into the hands of the infidel.[1328]

The Ottoman fleet, soon afterward doubling the point, entered Port
Musiette, on the west, with music playing, and gay with pennons and
streamers; while the rocks rang with the shouts of the Turkish soldiery,
and the batteries on shore replied in thunders to the artillery of the
shipping.

The day on which this occurred, the twenty-third of June, was that of
the festival of St. John the Baptist, the patron of the order. It had
been always celebrated by the knights with greater splendor than any
other anniversary. Now, alas! it was to them a day of humiliation and
mourning, while they had the additional mortification to see it observed
as a day of triumphant jubilee by the enemies of the Faith.[1329]

To add to their distress, Mustapha sullied his victory by some brutal
acts, which seem to have been in keeping with his character. The heads
of four of the principal knights, among them those of Miranda and the
bailiff of Negropont, were set high on poles looking towards the town. A
spectacle yet more shocking was presented to the eyes of the besieged.
The Turkish general caused the bodies of several cavaliers--some of
them, it is said, while life was yet palpitating within, them--to be
scored on the bosoms with gashes in the form of a cross. Thus defaced,
they were lashed to planks, and thrown into the water. Several of them
drifted to the opposite shore, where they were easily recognized by
their brethren; and La Valette, as he gazed on the dishonored remains of
his dear companions, was melted to tears. But grief soon yielded to
feelings of a sterner nature. He commanded the heads of his Turkish
prisoners to be struck off, and shot from the large guns into the
enemy's lines,--by way of teaching the Moslems, as the chronicler tells
us, a lesson of humanity![1330]

The number of Christians who fell in this siege amounted to about
fifteen hundred. Of these one hundred and twenty-three were members of
the order, and among them several of its most illustrious
warriors.[1331] The Turkish loss is estimated at eight thousand, at the
head of whom stood Dragut, of more account than a legion of the common
file. He was still living, though speechless, when the fort was stormed.
He was roused from his lethargy by the shouts of victory, and when, upon
turning with inquiring looks to those around, he was told the cause, he
raised his eyes to Heaven, as if in gratitude for the event, and
expired.[1332]

The Turkish commander, dismantling St. Elmo,--which, indeed, was little
better than a heap of ruins,--sent some thirty cannon that had lined the
works, as the trophies of victory, to Constantinople.[1333]

Thus ended the memorable siege of St. Elmo, in which a handful of
warriors withstood, for the space of a month, the whole strength of the
Turkish army. Such a result, while it proves the unconquerable valor of
the garrison, intimates that the Turks, however efficient they may have
been in field operations, had little skill as engineers, and no
acquaintance with the true principles of conducting a siege. It must
have been obvious, from the first, that, to bring the siege to a speedy
issue, it was necessary to destroy the communications of St. Elmo with
the town. Yet this was not attempted till the arrival of Dragut, who
early recommended the construction of a battery for this purpose on some
high land on the opposite side of the Great Port. In this he was
overruled by the Turkish commander. It was not till some time later that
the line of investment, at the corsair's suggestion, was continued to
the water's edge,--and the fate of the fortress was decided.

St. Elmo fell. But precious time had been lost,--an irreparable loss, as
it proved, to the besiegers; while the place had maintained so long and
gallant a resistance as greatly to encourage the Christians, and in some
degree to diminish the confidence of the Moslems. "What will not the
parent cost," exclaimed Mustapha,--alluding to St. Angelo,--"when the
child has cost us so dear!"[1334]




CHAPTER IV.

SIEGE OF MALTA.

Il Borgo invested.--Storming of St. Michael.--Slaughter of the
Turks.--Incessant Cannonade.--General Assault.--The Turks
repulsed.--Perilous Condition of Il Borgo.--Constancy of La Valette.

1565.


The strength of the order was now concentrated on the two narrow slips
of land which run out from the eastern side of the Great Port. Although
some account of these places has been given to the reader, it will not
be amiss to refresh his recollection of what is henceforth to be the
scene of operations.

The northern peninsula, occupied by the town of Il Borgo, and at the
extreme point by the castle of St. Angelo, was defended by works
stronger and in better condition than the fortifications of St. Elmo.
The care of them was divided among the different _languages_, each of
which gave its own name to the bastion it defended. Thus the Spanish
knights were intrusted with the bastion of Castile, on the eastern
corner of the peninsula,--destined to make an important figure in the
ensuing siege.

The parallel slip of land was crowned by the fort of St. Michael,--a
work of narrower dimensions than the castle of St. Angelo,--at the base
of which might be seen a small gathering of houses, hardly deserving the
name of a town. This peninsula was surrounded by fortifications scarcely
yet completed, on which the grand-master, La Sangle, who gave his name
to the place, had generously expended his private fortune. The works
were terminated, on the extreme point, by a low bastion, or rather
demi-bastion, called the Spur.

The precious interval gained by the long detention of the Turks before
St. Elmo had been diligently employed by La Valette in putting the
defences of both La Sangle and Il Borgo in the best condition possible
under the circumstances. In this good work all united,--men, women, and
children. All were animated by the same patriotic feeling, and by a
common hatred of the infidel. La Valette ordered the heavy guns to be
taken from the galleys which were lying at anchor, and placed on the
walls of the fortresses. He directed that such provisions as were in the
hands of individuals should be delivered up for a fair compensation, and
transferred to the public magazines.[1335] Five companies of soldiers,
stationed in the Notable City, in the interior of the island, he now
ordered to Il Borgo, where their services would be more needed. Finally,
as there were no accommodations for prisoners, who, indeed, could not be
maintained without encroaching on the supplies necessary for the
garrison, La Valette commanded that no prisoners should be made, but
that all who fell into the hands of the victors should be put to the
sword.[1336] It was to be on both sides a war of extermination.

[Sidenote: ENVOY FROM THE TURKS.]

At this juncture, La Valette had the satisfaction of receiving a
reinforcement from Sicily, which, though not large, was of great
importance in the present state of affairs. The viceroy had, at length,
so far yielded to the importunities of the Knights of St. John who were
then at his court, impatiently waiting for the means of joining their
brethren, as to fit out a squadron of four galleys,--two of his own, and
two belonging to the order. They had forty knights on board, and seven
hundred soldiers, excellent troops, drawn chiefly from the Spanish
garrisons in Italy. The vessels were placed under command of Don Juan de
Cardona, who was instructed to return without attempting to land, should
he find St. Elmo in the hands of the enemy. Cardona, who seems to have
had a good share of the timid, vacillating policy of his superior,
fearful of the Ottoman fleet, stood off and on for some days, without
approaching the island. During this time St. Elmo was taken. Cardona,
ignorant of the fact, steered towards the south, and finally anchored
off Pietra Negra, on the opposite side of the island. Here one of the
knights was permitted to go on shore to collect information. He there
learned the fate of St. Elmo; but, as he carefully concealed the
tidings, the rest of the forces were speedily landed, and Cardona, with
his galleys, was soon on the way to Sicily.

The detachment was under the command of the Chevalier de Robles, a brave
soldier, and one of the most illustrious men of the order. Under cover
of night, he passed within gunshot of the Turkish lines without being
discovered, and was so fortunate as to bring his men in safety to the
side of the English harbor opposite to Il Borgo, which it washes on the
north. There he found boats awaiting his arrival. They had been provided
by the grand-master, who was advised of his movements. A thick fog lay
upon the waters; and under its friendly mantle Robles and his troops
crossed over in safety to the town, where they were welcomed by the
knights, who joyfully greeted the brave companions that had come to
share with them the perils of the siege.[1337]

While this was going on, Mustapha, the Turkish commander, had been
revolving in his mind, whether it were not possible to gain his ends by
negotiation instead of war, and thus be spared the waste of life which
the capture of St. Elmo had cost him. He flattered himself that La
Valette, taking warning by the fate of that fortress, might be brought
to capitulate on fair and honorable terms. He accordingly sent a
messenger with a summons to the grand-master to deliver up the island,
on the assurance of a free passage for himself and his followers, with
all their effects, to Sicily.

The envoy chosen was a Greek slave,--an old man, who had lived from
boyhood in captivity. Under protection of a flag of truce, the slave
gained admission into St. Angelo, and was conducted blindfold to the
presence of the grand-master. He there delivered his message. La Valette
calmly listened, but without deigning to reply; and when the speaker had
ended, the stern chief ordered him to be taken from his presence, and
instantly hanged. The wretched man threw himself at the feet of the
grand-master, beseeching him to spare his life, and protesting that he
was but a poor slave, and had come, against his will, in obedience to
the commands of the Turkish general. La Valette, who had probably no
intention from the first to have his order carried into execution,
affected to relent, declaring, however, that, should any other messenger
venture hereafter to insult him with the like proposals, he should not
escape so easily. The terrified old man was then dismissed. As he left
the presence, he was led through long files of the soldiery drawn up in
imposing array, and was shown the strong works of the castle of St.
Angelo. "Look," said one of the officers, pointing to the deep ditch
which surrounded the fortress, "there is all the room we can afford your
master; but it is deep enough to bury him and his followers!" The slave,
though a Christian, could not be persuaded to remain and take his chance
with the besieged. They must be beaten in the end, he said, and, when
retaken by the Turks, his case would be worse than ever.[1338]

There was now no alternative for Mustapha but to fight; and he had not
lost a moment since the fall of St. Elmo in pushing forward his
preparations. Trenches had been opened on the heights at the foot of
Mount Coradin, at the southern extremity of the Great Port, and
continued on a line that stretched to Mount St. Salvador. Where the soil
was too hard to be readily turned up, the defences were continued by a
wall of stone. Along the heights, on different points of the line,
batteries were established, and mounted with guns of the heaviest
calibre. Batteries were also raised on the high ground which, under the
name of Mount Sceberras, divides Port Musiette from the Great Port,
terminating in the point of land crowned by St. Elmo. A few cannon were
even planted by the Turks on the ruins of this castle.

Thus the Christian fortresses were menaced on every point; and while the
lines of the besiegers cut off all communication on the land side, a
detachment of the fleet, blocking up the entrance to the Great Port,
effectually cut off intercourse by sea. The investment by land and by
sea was complete.

Early in July the wide circle of batteries, mounting between sixty and
seventy pieces of artillery, opened their converging fire on the
fortresses, the towns, and the shipping, which lay at anchor in the Port
of Galleys. The cannonade was returned with spirit by the guns of St.
Angelo and St. Michael, well served by men acquainted with their duty.
So soon as the breaches were practicable, Mustapha proposed to begin by
storming St. Michael, the weaker of the two fortresses; and he
determined to make the assault by sea as well as by land. It would not
be possible, however, to bring round his vessels lying in Port Musiette
into the Great Port, without exposing them to the guns of St. Angelo. He
resorted, therefore, to an expedient startling enough, but not new in
the annals of warfare. He caused a large number of boats to be dragged
across the high land which divides the two harbors. This toilsome work
was performed by his Christian slaves; and the garrison beheld with
astonishment the Turkish flotilla descending the rugged slopes of the
opposite eminence, and finally launched on the waters of the inland
basin. No less than eighty boats, some of them of the largest size, were
thus transported across the heights.

Having completed this great work, Mustapha made his preparations for the
assault. At this time, he was joined by a considerable reinforcement
under Hassem, the Algerine corsair, who commanded at the memorable
sieges of Oran and Mazarquivir. Struck with the small size of the castle
of St. Elmo, Hassem intimated his surprise that it should have held out
so long against the Turkish arms; and he besought Mustapha to intrust
him with the conduct of the assault that was to be made on Fort St.
Michael. The Turkish general, not unwilling that the presumptuous young
chief should himself prove the temper of the Maltese swords, readily
gave him the command, and the day was fixed for the attack.

[Sidenote: STORMING OF ST. MICHAEL.]

Fortunately, at this time, a deserter, a man of some consequence in the
Turkish army, crossed over to Il Borgo, and acquainted the grand-master
with the designs of the enemy. La Sangle was defended on the north, as
already noticed, by a strong iron chain, which, stretching across the
Port of Galleys at its mouth, would prevent the approach of boats in
that direction. La Valette now caused a row of palisades to be sunk in
the mud, at the bottom of the harbor, in a line extending from the
extreme point of La Sangle to the foot of Mount Coradin. These were
bound together by heavy chains, so well secured as to oppose an
effectual barrier to the passage of the Turkish flotilla. The length of
this barricade was not great. But it was a work of much difficulty,--not
the less so that it was necessary to perform it in the night, in order
to secure the workmen from the enemy's guns. In little more than a week,
it was accomplished. Mustapha sent a small body of men, excellent
swimmers, armed with axes, to force an opening in the barrier. They had
done some mischief to the work, when a party of Maltese, swimming out,
with their swords between their teeth, fell on the Turks, beat them off,
and succeeded in restoring the palisades.[1339]

Early in the morning, on the fifteenth of July, two cannon in the
Ottoman lines, from opposite sides of the Great Port, gave the signal
for the assault. Hassem prepared to lead it, in person, on the land
side. The attack by water he intrusted to an Algerine corsair, his
lieutenant. Before the report of the cannon had died away, a great
number of boats were seen by the garrison of St. Michael putting off
from the shore. They were filled with troops, and among these, to judge
from their dress, were many persons of condition. The account is given
by the old soldier so often quoted, who, stationed on the bastion of the
Spur, had a full view of the enemy. It was a gay spectacle, these Moslem
chiefs, in their rich Oriental costumes, with their gaudy-colored
turbans, and their loose, flowing mantles of crimson, or of cloth of
gold and silver; the beams of the rising sun glancing on their polished
weapons,--their bows of delicate workmanship, their scymitars from the
forges of Alexandria and Damascus, their muskets of Fez.[1340] "It was a
beautiful sight to see," adds the chronicler with some _naïveté_, "if
one could have looked on it without danger to himself."[1341]

In advance of the squadron came two or three boats, bearing persons
whose venerable aspect and dark-colored robes proclaimed them to be the
religious men of the Moslems. They seemed to be reciting from a volume
before them, and muttering what might be prayers to Allah,--possibly
invoking his vengeance on the infidel. But these soon dropped astern,
leaving the way open for the rest of the flotilla, which steered for the
palisades, with the intention evidently of forcing a passage. But the
barrier proved too strong for their efforts; and, chafed by the musketry
which now opened on them from the bastion, the Algerine commander threw
himself into the water, which was somewhat above his girdle, and,
followed by his men, advanced boldly towards the shore.

Two mortars were mounted on the rampart. But, through some
mismanagement, they were not worked; and the assailants were allowed to
reach the foot of the bastion, which they prepared to carry by escalade.
Applying their ladders, they speedily began to mount; when they were
assailed by showers of stones, hand-grenades, and combustibles of
various kinds; while huge fragments of rock were rolled over the
parapet, crushing men and ladders, and scattering them in ruin below.
The ramparts were covered with knights and soldiers, among whom the
stately form of Antonio de Zanoguerra, the commander of the post, was
conspicuous, towering above his comrades, and cheering them on to the
fight. Meantime the assailants, mustering like a swarm of hornets to the
attack, were soon seen replacing the broken ladders, and again
clambering up the walls. The leading files were pushed upward by those
below; yet scarcely had the bold adventurers risen above the parapet,
when they were pierced by the pikes of the soldiers, or struck down by
the swords and battle-axes of the knights. At this crisis, a spark
unfortunately falling into the magazine of combustibles, it took fire,
and blew up with a terrific explosion, killing or maiming numbers of the
garrison, and rolling volumes of blinding smoke along the bastion. The
besiegers profited by the confusion to gain a footing on the ramparts;
and when the clouds of vapor began to dissipate, the garrison were
astonished to find their enemies at their side, and a number of small
banners, such as the Turks usually bore into the fight, planted on the
walls. The contest now raged fiercer than ever, as the parties fought on
more equal terms;--the Mussulmans smarting under their wounds, and the
Christians fired with the recollection of St. Elmo, and the desire of
avenging their slaughtered brethren. The struggle continued long after
the sun, rising high in the heavens, poured down a flood of heat on the
combatants; and the garrison, pressed by superior numbers, weary and
faint with wounds, were hardly able to keep their footing on the
slippery ground, saturated with their own blood and that of their
enemies. Still the cheering battle-cry of St. John rose in the air; and
their brave leader, Zanoguerra, at the head of his knights, was to be
seen in the thickest of the fight. There too was Brother Robert, an
ecclesiastic of the order, with a sword in one hand and a crucifix in
the other, though wounded himself, rushing among the ranks, and
exhorting the men "to fight for the faith of Jesus Christ, and to die in
its defence."[1342]

At this crisis the commander, Zanoguerra, though clad in armor of proof,
was hit by a random musket-shot, which stretched him lifeless on the
rampart. At his fall the besiegers set up a shout of triumph, and
redoubled their efforts. It would now have gone hard with the garrison,
had it not been for a timely reinforcement which arrived from Il Borgo.
It was sent by La Valette, who had learned the perilous state of the
bastion. He had, not long before this, caused a floating bridge to be
laid across the Port of Galleys,--thus connecting the two peninsulas
with each other, and affording a much readier means of communication
than before existed.

[Sidenote: SLAUGHTER OF THE TURKS.]

While this was going on, a powerful reinforcement was on its way to the
support of the assailants. Ten boats of the largest size, having a
thousand janizaries on board, were seen advancing across the Great
Harbor from the opposite shore. Taking warning by the fate of their
countrymen, they avoided the palisades, and, pursuing a more northerly
course, stood for the extreme point of the Spur. By so doing, they
exposed themselves to the fire of a battery in St. Angelo, sunk down
almost to the water's level. It was this depressed condition of the work
that secured it from the notice of the Turks. The battery, mounted with
five guns, was commanded, by the Chevalier de Guiral, who coolly waited
until the enemy had come within range of his shot, when he gave the word
to fire. The pieces were loaded with heavy balls, and with bags filled
with chain and bits of iron. The effect of the discharge was terrible.
Nine of the barges were shattered to pieces, and immediately sunk.[1343]
The water was covered with the splinters of the vessels, with mutilated
trunks, dissevered limbs, fragments of clothes, and quantities of
provisions; for the enemy came prepared to take up their quarters
permanently in the fortress. Amidst the dismal wreck a few wretches were
to be seen, struggling with the waves, and calling on their comrades for
help. But those in the surviving boat, when they had recovered from the
shock of the explosion, had no mind to remain longer in so perilous a
position, but made the best of their way back to the shore, leaving
their companions to their fate. Day after day the waves threw upon the
strand the corpses of the drowned men; and the Maltese divers long
continued to drag up from the bottom rich articles of wearing apparel,
ornaments, and even purses of money, which had been upon the persons of
the janizaries. Eight hundred are said to have perished by this
disaster, which may, not improbably, have decided the fate of the
fortress; for the strength of the reinforcement would have been more
than a match for that sent by La Valette to the support of the
garrison.[1344]

Meanwhile the succors detached by the grand-master had no sooner entered
the bastion, than, seeing their brethren so hard beset, and the Moslem
flags planted along the parapet, they cried their war-cry, and fell
furiously on the enemy. In this they were well supported by the
garrison, who gathered strength at the sight of the reinforcement. The
Turks, now pressed on all sides, gave way. Some succeeded in making
their escape by the ladders, as they had entered. Others were hurled
down on the rocks below. Most, turning on their assailants, fell
fighting on the rampart which they had so nearly won. Those who escaped
hurried to the shore, hoping to gain the boats, which lay off at some
distance; when a detachment, sallying from the bastion, intercepted
their flight. Thus at bay, they had no alternative but to fight. But
their spirit was gone; and they were easily hewed down by their
pursuers. Some, throwing themselves on their knees, piteously begged for
mercy. "Such mercy," shouted the victors, "as you showed at St.
Elmo!"[1345] and buried their daggers in their bodies.

While this bloody work was going on below, the knights and soldiers,
gathered on the exposed points of the bastion above, presented an
obvious mark to the Turkish guns across the water, which had not been
worked during the assault, for fear of injuring the assailants. Now that
the Turks had vanished from the ramparts, some heavy shot were thrown
among the Christians, with fatal effect. Among others who were slain was
Frederic de Toledo, a son of the viceroy of Sicily. He was a young
knight of great promise, and was under the especial care of the
grand-master, who kept him constantly near his person. But when the
generous youth learned the extremity to which his brethren in La Sangle
were reduced, he secretly joined the reinforcement which was going to
their relief, and did his duty like a good knight in the combat which
followed. While on the rampart, he was struck down by a cannon-shot; and
a splinter from his cuirass mortally wounded a comrade to whom he was
speaking at the time.

While the fight was thus going on at the Spur, Hassem was storming the
breach of Fort St. Michael, on the opposite quarter. The storming-party,
consisting of both Moors and Turks, rushed to the assault with their
usual intrepidity. But they found a very different enemy from the
spectral forms which, wasted by toil and suffering, had opposed so
ineffectual a resistance in the last days of St. Elmo. In vain did the
rushing tide of assailants endeavor to force an opening through the
stern array of warriors, which, like a wall of iron, now filled up the
breach. Recoiling in confusion, the leading files fell back upon the
rear, and all was disorder. But Hassem soon re-formed his ranks, and
again led them to the charge. Again they were repulsed with loss; but as
fresh troops came to their aid, the little garrison must have been borne
down by numbers, had not their comrades, flushed with their recent
victory at the bastion, hurried to their support, and, sweeping like a
whirlwind through the breach, driven the enemy with dreadful carnage
along the slope, and compelled him to take refuge in his trenches.

Thus ended the first assault of the besiegers since the fall of St.
Elmo. The success of the Christians was complete. Between three and four
thousand Mussulmans, including those who were drowned,--according to the
Maltese statements,--fell in the two attacks on the fortress and the
bastion. But the arithmetic of an enemy is not apt to be exact.[1346]
The loss of the Christians did not exceed two hundred. Even this was a
heavy loss to the besieged, and included some of their best knights, to
say nothing of others disabled by their wounds. Still it was a signal
victory; and its influence was felt in raising the spirits of the
besieged, and in inspiring them with confidence. La Valette was careful
to cherish these feelings. The knights, followed by the whole population
of Il Borgo, went in solemn procession to the great church of St.
Lawrence, where _Te Deum_ was chanted, while the colors taken from the
infidel were suspended from the walls as glorious trophies of the
victory.[1347]

Mustapha now found that the spirit of the besieged, far from being
broken by their late reverses, was higher than ever, as their resources
were greater, and their fortifications stronger, than those of St. Elmo.
He saw the necessity of proceeding with greater caution. He resolved to
level the defences of the Christians with the ground, and then,
combining the whole strength of his forces, make simultaneous assaults
on Il Borgo and St. Michael. His first step was to continue his line of
intrenchments below St. Salvador to the water's edge, and thus cut off
the enemy's communication with the opposite side of the English Port, by
means of which the late reinforcement from Sicily had reached him. He
further strengthened the battery on St. Salvador, arming it with sixteen
guns,--two of them of such enormous calibre, as to throw stone bullets
of three hundred pounds' weight.

[Sidenote: INCESSANT CANNONADE.]

From this ponderous battery he now opened a crushing fire on the
neighboring bastion of Castile, and on the quarter of Il Borgo lying
nearest to it. The storm of marble and metal that fell upon the houses,
though these were built of stone, soon laid many of than in ruins; and
the shot, sweeping the streets, killed numbers of the inhabitants,
including women and children. La Valette caused barriers of solid
masonry to be raised across the streets for the protection of the
citizens. As this was a work of great danger, he put his slaves upon it,
trusting, too, that the enemy might be induced to mitigate his fire from
tenderness for the lives of his Moslem brethren. But in such an
expectation he greatly erred. More than five hundred slaves fell under
the incessant volleys of the besiegers; and it was only by the most
severe, indeed cruel treatment, that these unfortunate beings could be
made to resume their labors.[1348]

La Valette, at this time, in order to protect the town against assault
on the side of the English Port, caused a number of vessels laden with
heavy stones to be sunk not far from shore. They were further secured by
anchors bound to one another with chains, forming altogether an
impenetrable barrier against any approach by water.

The inhabitants of Il Borgo, as well as the soldiers, were now active in
preparations for defence. Some untwisted large ropes and cables to get
materials for making bags to serve as gabions. Some were busy with
manufacturing different sorts of fireworks, much relied on as a means of
defence by the besieged. Others were employed in breaking up the large
stones from the ruined buildings into smaller ones, which proved
efficient missiles when hurled on the heads of the assailants below. But
the greatest and most incessant labor was that of repairing the
breaches, or of constructing retrenchments to defend them. The sound of
the hammer and the saw was everywhere to be heard. The fires of the
forges were never suffered to go out. The hum of labor was as
unintermitting throughout the city as in the season of peace;--but with
a very different end.[1349]

Over all these labors the grand-master exercised a careful
superintendence. He was always on the spot where his presence was
needed. His eye seemed never to slumber. He performed many of the duties
of a soldier, as well as of a commander. He made the rounds constantly
in the night, to see that all was well, and that the sentinels were at
their posts. On these occasions he freely exposed himself to danger,
showing a carelessness of his own safety that called forth more than
once the remonstrances of his brethren. He was indeed watchful over all,
says the old chronicler who witnessed it; showing no sign of
apprehension in his valiant countenance, but by his noble presence
giving heart and animation to his followers.[1350]

Yet the stoutest heart which witnessed the scene might well have
thrilled with apprehension. Far as the eye could reach, the lines of the
Moslem army stretched over hill and valley; while a deafening roar of
artillery from fourteen batteries shook the solid earth, and, borne
across the waters for more than a hundred miles, sounded to the
inhabitants of Syracuse and Catania live the mutterings of distant
thunder.[1351] In the midst of this turmoil, and encompassed by the
glittering lines of the besiegers, the two Christian fortresses might be
dimly discerned amidst volumes of fire and smoke, which, rolling darkly
round their summits, almost hid from view the banner of St. John,
proudly waving in the breeze, as in defiance of the enemy.

But the situation of the garrison, as the works crumbled under the
stroke of the bullet, became every day more critical. La Valette
contrived to send information of it to the viceroy of Sicily, urging him
to delay his coming no longer, if he would save the island. But, strange
to say, such was the timid policy that had crept into the viceroy's
councils, that it was seriously discussed whether it was expedient to
send aid at all to the Knights of Malta! Some insisted that there was no
obligation on Spain to take any part in the quarrel, and that the
knights should be left to fight out the battle with the Turks in Malta,
as they had before done in Rhodes. Others remonstrated against this,
declaring it would be an eternal blot on the scutcheon of Castile, if
she should desert in their need the brave chivalry who for so many years
had been fighting the battles of Christendom. The king of Spain, in
particular, as the feudatory sovereign of the order, was bound to
protect the island from the Turks, who, moreover, once in possession of
it, would prove the most terrible scourge that ever fell on the commerce
of the Mediterranean. The more generous, happily the more politic,
counsel prevailed; and the viceroy contrived to convey an assurance to
the grand-master, that, if he could hold out till the end of the
following month, he would come with sixteen thousand men to his
relief.[1352]

But this was a long period for men in extremity to wait. La Valette saw
with grief how much deceived he had been in thus leaning on the viceroy.
He determined to disappoint his brethren no longer by holding out
delusive promises of succor. "The only succor to be relied on," he said,
"was that of Almighty God. He who has hitherto preserved his children
from danger will not now abandon them."[1353] La Valette reminded his
followers, that they were the soldiers of Heaven, fighting for the
Faith, for liberty and life. "Should the enemy prevail," he added, with
a politic suggestion, "the Christians could expect no better fate than
that of their comrades in St. Elmo." The grand-master's admonition was
not lost upon the soldiers. "Every man of us," says Balbi, "resolved to
die rather than surrender, and to sell his life as dearly as possible.
From that hour no man talked of succors."[1354]

One of those spiritual weapons from the papal armory, which have
sometimes proved of singular efficacy in times of need, came now most
seasonably to the aid of La Valette. A bull of Pius the Fourth granted
plenary indulgence for all sins which had been committed by those
engaged in this holy war against the Moslems. "There were few," says the
chronicler, "either women or men, old enough to appreciate it, who did
not strive to merit this grace by most earnest devotion to the cause,
and who did not have entire faith that all who died in the good work
would be at once received into glory."[1355]

[Sidenote: GENERAL ASSAULT.]

More than two weeks had elapsed since the attempt, so disastrous to the
Turks, on the fortress of St. Michael. During this time they had kept up
an unintermitting fire on the Christian fortifications; and the effect
was visible in more than one fearful gap, which invited the assault of
the enemy. The second of August was accordingly fixed on as the day for
a general attack, to be made on both Port St. Michael, and on the
bastion of Castile, which, situated at the head of the English Port,
eastward of Il Borgo, flanked the line of defence on that quarter.
Mustapha was to conduct in person the operations against the fort; the
assault on the bastion he intrusted to Piali;--a division of the command
by which the ambition of the rival chiefs would be roused to the utmost.

Fortunately, La Valette obtained notice, through some deserters, of the
plans of the Turkish commanders, and made his preparations accordingly.
On the morning of the second, Piali's men, at the appointed signal,
moved briskly forward to the assault. They soon crossed the ditch, but
partially filled with the ruins of the rampart, scaled the ascent in
face of a sharp fire of musketry, and stood at length, with ranks
somewhat shattered, on the summit of the breach. But here they were
opposed by retrenchments within, thrown up by the besieged, from behind
which they now poured such heavy volleys among the assailants as
staggered the front of the column, and compelled it to fall back some
paces in the rear. Here it was encountered by those pushing forward from
below; and some confusion ensued. This was increased by the vigor with
which the garrison now plied their musketry from the ramparts, hurling
down at the same time heavy logs, hand-grenades, and torrents of
scalding pitch on the heads of the assailing column, which, blinded and
staggering under the shock, reeled to and fro like a drunken man. To add
to their distress, the feet of the soldiers were torn and entangled
among the spikes which had been thickly set in the ruins of the breach
by the besieged. Woe to him who fell! His writhing body was soon
trampled under the press. In vain the Moslem chiefs endeavored to
restore order. Their voices were lost in the wild uproar that raged
around. At this crisis the knights, charging at the head of their
followers, cleared the breach, and drove the enemy with loss into his
trenches.

There the broken column soon re-formed, and, strengthened by fresh
troops, was again brought to the attack. But this gave a respite to the
garrison, which La Valette improved by causing refreshments to be served
to the soldiers. By his provident care, skins containing wine and water,
with rations of bread, were placed near the points of attack, to be
distributed among the men.[1356] The garrison, thus strengthened, were
enabled to meet the additional forces brought against them by the enemy;
and the refreshments on the one side were made, in some sort, to
counterbalance the reinforcements on the other. Vessels filled with salt
and water were also at hand, to bathe the wounds of such as were injured
by the fireworks. "Without these various precautions," says the
chronicler, "it would have been impossible for so few men as we were to
keep our ground against such a host as now assailed us on every
quarter."[1357]

Again and again the discomfited Turks gathered strength for a new
assault, and as often they were repulsed with the same loss as before;
till Piali drew off his dispirited legions, and abandoned all further
attempts for that day.

It fared no better on the other quarter, where the besiegers, under the
eye of the commander-in-chief, were storming the fortress of St.
Michael. On every point the stout-hearted chivalry of St. John were
victorious. But victory was bought at a heavy price.

The Turks returned to the attack on the day following, and on each
succeeding day. It was evidently their purpose to profit by their
superior numbers to harass the besieged, and reduce them to a state of
exhaustion. One of these assaults was near being attended with fatal
consequences.

A mine which ran under the bastion of Castile was sprung, and brought
down a wide extent of the rampart. The enemy, prepared for the event,
mounting the smoking ruins, poured through the undefended breach,--or
defended only by a handful of the garrison, who were taken unawares. The
next minute, the great standard of the Ottomans was planted on the
walls. The alarm was raised. In a few moments the enemy would have been
in the heart of the town. An ecclesiastic of the order, Brother William
by name, terrified at the sight, made all haste to the grand-master,
then at his usual station in the public square. Rushing into his
presence, the priest called on him to take refuge, while he could, in
the castle of St. Angelo, as the enemy had broken into the town. But the
dauntless chief, snatching up his pike, with no other protection than
his helmet, and calling out to those around him, "Now is the time! let
us die together!"[1358] hurried to the scene of action, where, rallying
his followers, he fell furiously on the enemy. A sharp struggle ensued.
More than one knight was struck down by La Valette's side. He himself
was wounded in the leg by the splinter of a hand-grenade. The alarm-bell
of the city rang violently. The cry was raised that the grand-master was
in danger. Knights, soldiers, and townsmen came rushing to the spot.
Even the sick sprang from their beds, and made such haste as they could
to the rescue. The Moslems, pressed on all sides, and shaken by the
resolute charge, fell back slowly on the breach.

The cavaliers would now fain have persuaded the grand-master, who was
still standing among a heap of the slain, to retire to some place of
safety, and leave the issue of the battle to his companions. But, fixing
his eye on the Ottoman standard, still floating above the walls, he
mournfully shook his head, in token of his resolution to remain. The
garrison, spurred on by shame and indignation, again charged the
Moslems, with greater fury than before. The colors, wrenched from the
ramparts, were torn to shreds in the struggle. The Christians prevailed;
and the Turks, quailing before their invincible spirit, were compelled,
after a long and bloody contest, to abandon the works they had so nearly
won.

Still the grand-master, far from retiring, took up his quarters for the
night in the neighborhood of the breach. He had no doubt that the enemy
would return under cover of the darkness, and renew the assault before
the garrison had time to throw up retrenchments. It was in vain his
companions besought him to withdraw, to leave the fight to them, and not
to risk a life so precious to the community. "And how can an old man
like me," he said, "end his life more gloriously, than when surrounded
by his brethren and fighting the battles of the Cross?"[1359]

[Sidenote: THE TURKS REPULSED.]

La Valette was right in his conjecture. No sooner had the darkness
fallen, than the Turkish host, again under arms, came surging on across
the ruins of the rampart towards the breach. But it was not under cover
of the darkness; for the whole bay was illumined by the incessant flash
of artillery, by the blaze of combustibles, and the fiery track of the
missiles darting through the air. Thus the combat was carried on as by
the light of day. The garrison, prepared for the attack, renewed the
scenes of the morning, and again beat off the assailants, who, broken
and dispirited, could not be roused, even by the blows of their
officers, to return to the assault.[1360]

On the following morning, La Valette caused _Te Deum_ to be sung in the
church of St. Lawrence, and thanks to be offered at the throne of grace
for their deliverance. And if the ceremonies were not conducted with the
accustomed pomp of the order of St. John, they were at least
accompanied, says the chronicler, who bore his part in them, by the
sacrifice of contrite hearts,--as was shown by the tears of many a man,
as well as woman, in the procession.[1361]

There was indeed almost as much cause for sorrow as for joy. However
successful the Christians had been in maintaining their defence, and
however severe the loss they had inflicted on the enemy, they had to
mourn the loss of some of their most illustrious knights, while others
lay disabled in their beds. Among the latter was De Monti, admiral of
the order, now lying seriously ill of wounds received in the defence of
St. Michael, of which he was commander. Among the deaths was one which
came home to the bosom of La Valette. A young cavalier, his nephew, had
engaged in a perilous enterprise with a comrade of his own age. The
handsome person and gilded armor of the younger La Valette made him a
fatal mark for the enemy;[1362] and he fell, together with his friend,
in the ditch before the bastion, under a shower of Turkish bullets. An
obstinate struggle succeeded between Christians and Turks for the bodies
of the slain. The Christians were victorious; and La Valette had the
melancholy satisfaction of rendering the last offices to the remains of
his gallant kinsman. The brethren would have condoled with him on his
loss. But his generous nature shrank from the indulgence of a selfish
sorrow. "All are alike dear to me," he said; "all of you I look on as my
children. I mourn for Polastra" (the friend of the young La Valette) "as
I do for my own nephew. And after all, it matters little. They have gone
before us but for a short time."[1363]

It was indeed no season for the indulgence of private sorrows, when
those of a public nature pressed so heavily on the heart. Each day the
condition of the besieged was becoming more critical. The tottering
defences both of Il Borgo and La Sangle were wasting away under the
remorseless batteries of the besiegers. Great numbers, not merely of the
knights and the soldiers, but of the inhabitants, had been slain. The
women of the place had shown, throughout the whole siege, the same
heroic spirit as the men. They not only discharged the usual feminine
duties of tending and relieving the sick, but they were often present in
the battle, supplying the garrison with refreshments, or carrying the
ammunition, or removing the wounded to the hospital. Thus sharing in the
danger of their husbands and fathers, they shared too in their fate.
Many perished by the enemy's fire; and the dead bodies of women lay
mingled among those of the men, on the ramparts and in the
streets.[1364] The hospitals were filled with the sick and wounded,
though fortunately no epidemic had as yet broken out to swell the bills
of mortality. Those of the garrison who were still in a condition to do
their duty were worn by long vigils and excessive toil. To fight by day,
to raise intrenchments or to repair the crumbling works by night, was
the hard duty of the soldier. Brief was the respite allowed him for
repose,--a repose to be broken at any moment by the sound of the
alarm-bell, and to be obtained only amidst so wild an uproar, that it
seemed, in the homely language of the veteran so often quoted, "as if
the world were coming to an end."[1365]

Happily, through the provident care of the grand-master, there was still
a store of provisions in the magazines. But the ammunition was already
getting low. Yet the resolution of the besieged did not fail them. Their
resolution had doubtless been strengthened by the cruel conduct of the
Turks at St. Elmo, which had shown that from such a foe there was no
mercy to be expected. The conviction of this had armed the Christians
with the courage of despair. On foreign succor they no longer relied.
Their only reliance was where their chief had taught them to place
it,--on the protection of Heaven; and La Valette, we are assured, went
every day during the siege to the church of St. Lawrence, and there
solemnly invoked that protection for the brave men who, alone and
unaided, were thus fighting the battles of the Faith.[1366]

The forlorn condition of the defences led, at length, the Council of
Grand Crosses, after much deliberation, to recommend to La Valette to
abandon Il Borgo, and to withdraw with the troops and the inhabitants
into the castle of St. Angelo. The grand-master saw at once the
disastrous consequences of such a step, and he rejected it without a
moment's hesitation. To withdraw into the castle, he said, would be to
give up all communication with St. Michael, and to abandon its brave
garrison to their fate. The inhabitants of the town would fare no
better. The cistern which supplied St. Angelo with water would be wholly
inadequate to the demands of such a multitude; and they would soon be
reduced to extremity. "No, my brethren," he concluded; "here we must
make our stand; and here we must die, if we cannot maintain ourselves
against the infidel."[1367]

He would not even consent to have the sacred relics, or the archives of
the order, removed thither, as to a place of greater security. It would
serve to discourage the soldiers, by leading them to suppose that he
distrusted their power of maintaining the town against the enemy. On the
contrary, he caused a bridge communicating with the castle to be broken
down, after calling off the greater part of the garrison to assist in
the defence of Il Borgo. By these measures, he proclaimed his
unalterable determination to maintain the town to the last, and if need
were, to die in its defence.[1368]

[Sidenote: THE TURKS DISPIRITED.]




CHAPTER V.

SIEGE OF MALTA.

The Turks dispirited.--Reinforcement from Sicily.--Siege
raised.--Mustapha defeated.--Rejoicings of the
Christians.--Mortification of Solyman.--Review of the Siege.--Subsequent
History of La Valette.

1565.


While the affairs of the besieged wore the gloomy aspect depicted in the
last chapter, those of the besiegers were not much better. More than
half their original force had perished. To the bloody roll of those who
had fallen in the numerous assaults were now to be added the daily
victims of pestilence. In consequence of the great heat, exposure, and
bad food, a dysentery had broken out in the Moslem army, and was now
sweeping off its hundreds in a day. Both ammunition and provisions were
running low. Ships bringing supplies were constantly intercepted by the
Sicilian cruisers. Many of the heavy guns were so much damaged by the
fire of the besieged, as to require to be withdrawn and sent on board
the fleet,--an operation performed with a silence that contrasted
strongly with the noisy shouts with which the batteries had been
raised.[1369] But these movements could not be conducted so silently as
to escape the notice of the garrison, whose spirits were much revived by
the reports daily brought in by deserters of the condition of the enemy.

Mustapha chafed not a little under the long-protracted resistance of the
besieged. He looked with apprehension to the consequences of a failure
in an expedition for which preparations had been made on so magnificent
a scale by his master, and with so confident hopes of success. He did
not fail to employ every expedient for effecting his object that the
military science of that day--at least Turkish science--could devise. He
ordered movable wooden towers to be built, such as were used under the
ancient system of besieging fortified places, from which, when brought
near to the works, his musketeers might send their volleys into the
town. But the besieged, sallying forth, set fire to his towers, and
burnt them to the ground. He caused a huge engine to be made, of the
capacity of a hogshead; filled with combustibles, and then swung, by
means of machinery, on the rampart of the bastion. But the garrison
succeeded in throwing it back on the heads of the inventors, where it
exploded with terrible effect. Mustapha ran his mines under the
Christian defences, until the ground was perforated like a honeycomb,
and the garrison seemed to be treading on the crust of a volcano. La
Valette countermined in his turn. The Christians, breaking into the
galleries of the Turks, engaged them boldly underground; and sometimes
the mine, exploding, buried both Turk and Christian under a heap of
ruins.

Baffled on every point, with their ranks hourly thinned by disease, the
Moslem troops grew sullen and dispirited; and now that the bastion of
Castile, with its dilapidated works, stood like some warrior stripped of
his armor, his defenceless condition inviting attack, they were in no
heart to make it. As their fire slackened, and their assaults became
fewer and more feeble, the confidence of the Christians was renewed;
until they even cherished the hope of beating off the enemy without the
long-promised succors from Sicily. Fortunately for the honor of Spain,
the chivalry of St. John were not driven to this perilous attempt.

Yielding, at length, to the solicitations of the knights and the
enthusiasm of the army, the viceroy, Don Garcia de Toledo, assembled his
fleet in the port of Syracuse, and on the 25th of August weighed anchor.
The fleet consisted of twenty-eight galleys, and carried eleven thousand
troops, chiefly Spanish veterans, besides two hundred knights of the
order, who had arrived from other lands, in time to witness the closing
scene of the drama. There was also a good number of adventurers from
Spain, France, and Italy, many of them persons of rank, and some of high
military renown, who had come to offer their services to the knights of
Malta, and share in their glorious defence.

Unfortunately, in its short passage, the fleet encountered a violent
gale, which did so much damage, that the viceroy was compelled to return
to Sicily, and repair his galleys. He then put to sea again, with better
fortune. He succeeded in avoiding the notice of the enemy, part of whose
armament lay off the mouth of the Great Port, to prevent the arrival of
succors to the besieged,--and on the 6th of September, under cover of
the evening, entered the Bay of Melecca, on the western side of the
island.[1370]

The next morning, having landed his forces, with their baggage and
military stores, the viceroy sailed again for Sicily, to bring over an
additional reinforcement of four thousand troops, then waiting in
Messina. He passed near enough to the beleaguered fortresses to be
descried by the garrisons, whom he saluted with three salvos of
artillery, that sent joy into their hearts.[1371] It had a very
different effect on the besiegers. They listened with nervous credulity
to the exaggerated reports that soon reached them, of the strength of
the reinforcement landed in the island, by which they expected to be
speedily assaulted in their trenches. Without delay, Mustapha made
preparations for his departure. His heavy guns and camp equipage were
got on board the galleys and smaller vessels, lying off the entrance of
the Great Port,--and all as silently and expeditiously as possible. La
Valette had hoped that some part of the Spanish reinforcement would be
detached during the night to the aid of the garrison, when he proposed
to sally on the enemy, and, if nothing better came of it, to get
possession of their cannon, so much needed for his own fortifications.
But no such aid arrived; and, through the long night, he impatiently
listened to the creaking of the wheels that bore off the artillery to
the ships.[1372]

[Sidenote: MUSTAPHA DEFEATED.]

With the first light of morning the whole Ottoman force was embarked on
board the vessels, which, weighing anchor, moved round to Port Musiette,
on the other side of St. Elmo, where the Turkish fleet, the greater part
of which lay there, was now busily preparing for its departure. No
sooner had the enemy withdrawn, than the besieged poured out into the
deserted trenches. One or two of those huge pieces of ordnance, which,
from their unwieldy size, it was found impossible to remove, had been
abandoned by the Turks, and remained a memorable trophy of the
siege.[1373] The Christians were not long in levelling the Moslem
entrenchments; and very soon the flag of St. John was seen cheerily
waving in the breeze, above the ruins of St. Elmo. The grand-master now
called his brethren together to offer up their devotions in the same
church of St. Lawrence where he had so often invoked the protection of
Heaven during the siege. "Never did music sound sweeter to human ears,"
exclaims Balbi, "than when those bells summoned us to mass, at the same
hour at which, for three months past, they had sounded the alarm against
the enemy."[1374] A procession was formed of all the members of the
order, the soldiers, and the citizens. The services were performed with
greater solemnity, as well as pomp, than could be observed in the hurry
and tumult of the siege; and, with overflowing hearts, the multitude
joined in the _Te Deum_, and offered up thanks to the Almighty and the
Blessed Virgin for their deliverance from their enemies.[1375] It was
the eighth of September, the day of the Nativity of the Virgin,--a
memorable day in the annals of Malta, and still observed by the
inhabitants as their most glorious anniversary.

Hardly had the Turkish galleys, with Mustapha on board, joined the great
body of the fleet in Port Musiette, than that commander received such
intelligence as convinced him that the report of the Spanish numbers had
been greatly exaggerated. He felt that he had acted precipitately, thus,
without a blow, to abandon the field to an enemy his inferior in
strength. His head may well have trembled on his shoulders, as he
thought of returning thus dishonored to the presence of his indignant
master. Piali, it is said, was not displeased at the mortification of
his rival. The want of concert between them had, in more than one
instance, interfered with the success of their operations. It was now,
however, agreed that Mustapha should disembark, with such of the troops
as were in fighting order, and give battle to the Spaniards. Piali,
meanwhile, would quit the port, which lay exposed to St. Elmo,--now in
his enemy's hands,--and anchor farther west, in the roads of St. Paul.

The troops from Sicily, during this time, had advanced into the
interior, in the neighborhood of _Citta Notable_,--or, as it is now
called, _Citta Vecchia_. They were commanded by Ascanio de la Corña, an
officer who had gained a name in the Italian wars. Alvaro de Sandé was
second in command, the same captain who made so heroic a defence in the
isle of Gelves against the Turks. The chivalrous daring of the latter
officer was well controlled by the circumspection of the former.

La Valette, who kept a vigilant eye on the movements of the Turks, was
careful to advise Don Ascanio that they had again disembarked, and were
on their march against him. The Spanish general took up a strong
position on an eminence, the approach, to which was rugged and
difficult in the extreme. Thus secured, the prudent chief proposed to
await the assault of the Moslems. But the Knights of St. John, who had
accompanied the Sicilian succors, eager for vengeance on the hated
enemies of their order, called loudly to be led against the infidel. In
this they were joined by the fiery De Sandé and the greater part of the
troops. When the Moslem banners, therefore, came in sight, and the dense
columns of the enemy were seen advancing across the country, the
impatience of the Christians was not to be restrained. The voices of the
officers were unheeded. Don Ascanio saw it was not wise to balk this
temper of the troops. They were hastily formed in order of battle, and
then, like a mountain torrent, descended swiftly against the foe.

On their left was a hill, crowned by a small tower that commanded the
plain. The Turks had succeeded in getting possession of this work. A
detachment of Spaniards scaled the eminence, attacked the Turks, and,
after a short struggle, carried the fort. Meanwhile the Maltese
chivalry, with Sandé and the great body of the army, fell with fury on
the front and flanks of the enemy. The Turkish soldiers, disgusted by
the long and disastrous siege, had embarked with great alacrity; and
they had not repressed their murmurs of discontent, when they were again
made to land and renew the conflict. Sullen and disheartened, they were
in no condition to receive the shock of the Spaniards. Many were borne
down by it at once, their ranks were broken, and their whole body; was
thrown into disarray. Some few endeavored to make head against their
assailants. Most thought only of securing safety by-flight. The knights
followed close on the fugitives. Now was the hour of vengeance. No
quarter was given. Their swords were reddened with the blood of the
infidel.[1376]

Mustapha, careless of his own life, made the most intrepid efforts to
save his men. He was ever in the hottest of the action. Twice he was
unhorsed, and had nearly fallen into the hands of his enemies. At
length, rallying a body of musketeers, he threw himself into the rear,
to cover the retreat of the army. Facing about, he sent such a
well-directed volley among his pursuers, who were coming on in disorder,
that they were compelled to halt. Don Alvaro's horse was slain under
him. Several knights were wounded or brought to the ground. But as those
in the rear came up, Mustapha was obliged to give way, and was soon
swept along with the tide of battle in the direction of the port of St.
Paul, where the fleet was at anchor. Boats were in readiness to receive
the troops; and a line of shallops, filled with arquebusiers, was drawn
up alongside of them, to cover the embarkation. But the Spaniards,
hurried forward by the heat of the pursuit, waded up to their girdles
into the sea, and maintained an incessant fire on the fugitives, many of
whom fell under it, while others, vainly endeavoring to swim to the
ships, perished in the waves; and their bodies, tossed upon the sands,
continued for many a day to poison the atmosphere.[1377]--This was the
last effort of Mustapha; and the Turkish admiral, gathering together the
wreck of his forces, again weighed anchor, and spreading his sails to
the breeze, steered his course for the Levant.[1378]

[Sidenote: REJOICINGS OF THE CHRISTIANS.]

The principal officers of the Spanish array, together with the knights,
then crossed over to Il Borgo.[1379] They met there with a cordial
welcome; but the knights, as they embraced their comrades, were greatly
shocked by their appearance,--their wan and care-worn countenances,
their emaciated figures, their long and matted hair, and their squalid
attire. Many were disfigured by honorable scars; some were miserably
maimed; others wore bandages over wounds not yet healed. It was a
piteous sight, too plainly intimating the extremity of suffering to
which they had been reduced; and as the knights gazed on their brethren,
and called to mind the friends they had lost, their hearts were filled
with unspeakable anguish.[1380]

On the fourteenth of September, the viceroy reappeared with the fleet,
bearing the remainder of the reinforcement from Sicily. The admiral's
pennant displayed a cross, intimating that it was a holy war in which
they were engaged.[1381] As the squadron came proudly up the Great Port,
with pennons and streamers gayly flying from its masts, it was welcomed
by salvos of artillery from the fortresses and bastions around; and the
rocky shores, which had so long reverberated only with the din of war,
now echoed to the sounds of jubilee.

The grand-master came down to the landing-place below St. Angelo, to
receive the viceroy, with the nobles and cavaliers who followed in his
train. They had come too late to share the dangers of the besieged, but
not too late to partake of their triumph. They were courteously
conducted by La Valette, across the scene of desolation, to his own
palace, which, though in an exposed quarter of the town, had so far
escaped as to be still habitable. As the strangers gazed on the remains
of the fortifications, nearly levelled to the ground, they marvelled
that the shadowy forms which they saw gliding among the ruins could have
so long held out against the Moslem armies. Well had they earned for
their city the title of _Vittoriosa_, "The Victorious," which,
supplanting that of Il Borgo, still commemorates its defence against the
infidel.

La Valette had provided an entertainment for his illustrious guests, as
good as his limited resources would allow; but it is said that the
banquet was reinforced by a contribution from the viceroy's own
stores.[1382] On the departure of the Spaniards, he showed his
gratitude, while he indulged his munificent spirit, by bestowing
handsome presents on the captains and a liberal largess of money on the
soldiers.[1383]

On his way, the viceroy had discovered the Ottoman fleet formed in
compact order, and standing under press of sail towards the east. He was
too far inferior in strength to care to intercept its course;[1384] and
the squadron reached in safety the port of Constantinople. Solyman had
already received despatches preparing him for the return of the fleet,
and the failure of the expedition. It threw him into one of those
paroxysms of ungovernable passion to which the old sultan seems to have
been somewhat addicted in the latter years of his life. With impotent
fury, he stamped on the letters, it is said, and, protesting that there
were none of his officers whom he could trust, he swore to lead an
expedition against Malta the coming year, and put every man in the
island to the sword.[1385] He had the magnanimity, however, not to wreak
his vengeance on the unfortunate commanders. The less to attract public
notice, he caused the fleet bearing the shattered remains of the army to
come into port in the night-time; thus affording a contrast sufficiently
striking to the spectacle presented by the brilliant armament which a
few months before had sailed from the Golden Horn amidst the joyous
acclamations of the multitude.

The arms of Solyman the Second, during his long and glorious reign, met
with no reverse so humiliating as his failure in the siege of Malta. To
say nothing of the cost of the maritime preparations, the waste of life
was prodigious, amounting to more than thirty thousand men, Moors
included, and comprehending the very best troops in the empire. This was
a loss of nearly three fourths of the original force of the besieging
army,--an almost incredible amount, showing that pestilence had been as
actively at work as the sword of the enemy.[1386]

Yet the loss in this siege fell most grievously on the Christians. Full
two hundred knights, twenty-five hundred soldiers, and more than seven
thousand inhabitants,--men, women, and children, are said to have
perished.[1387] The defences of the island were razed to the ground. The
towns were in ruins; the villages burnt; the green harvests cut down
before they had time to ripen. The fiery track of war was over every
part of Malta. Well might the simple inhabitants rue the hour when the
Knights of St. John first set foot upon their shores. The military
stores were exhausted, the granaries empty; the treasury was at the
lowest ebb. The members of the order had now to begin the work of
constructing their fortunes over again. But still they enjoyed the glory
of victory. They had the proud consciousness of having baffled, with
their own good swords, the whole strength of the Ottoman empire. The
same invincible spirit still glowed in their bosoms, and they looked
forward with unshaken confidence to the future.

[Sidenote: REVIEW OF THE SIEGE.]

Such were the results of this memorable siege,--one of the most
memorable sieges, considering the scale of the preparations, the amount
of the forces, and the spirit of the defence, which are recorded on the
pages of history. It would not be easy, even for a military man, after
the lapse of three centuries, to criticize with any degree of confidence
the course pursued by the combatants, so as to determine to what causes
may be referred the failure of the besiegers. One obvious fault, and of
the greatest moment, was that already noticed, of not immediately
cutting off the communications with St. Elmo, by which supplies were
constantly thrown into that fortress from the opposite side of the
harbor. Another, similar in its nature, was, that, with so powerful a
navy as the Turks had at their command, they should have allowed
communications to be maintained by the besieged with Sicily, and
reinforcements thus introduced into the island. We find Mustapha and
Piali throwing the blame of this mutually on each other, especially in
the case of Cardona, whose most seasonable succors might easily have
been intercepted, either by land or sea, with proper vigilance on the
part of the Turkish commanders. A serious impediment in the way of the
besiegers was the impossibility of forcing a subsistence for the troops
from a barren spot like Malta, and the extreme difficulty of obtaining
supplies from other quarters, when so easily intercepted by the enemy's
cruisers. Yet the Turkish galleys lying idle in the western port might
have furnished a ready convoy, one might suppose, for transports
bringing provisions from the Barbary coast. But we find no such thing
attempted. To all these causes of failure must be added the epidemic,
which, generated under the tropical heats of a Maltese summer, spread
like a murrain through the camp of the besiegers, sweeping them off by
thousands.

It operated well for the besieged, that the great advance made in the
science of fortification was such, in the latter half of the sixteenth
century, as in a great degree to counterbalance the advantages secured
to the besiegers by the use of artillery,--especially such clumsy
artillery, and so awkwardly served, as that of the Turks. But these
advantages would have proved of little worth, had it not been for the
character of the men who were to profit by them. It was the character of
the defenders that constituted the real strength of the defence. This
was the true bulwark that resisted every effort of the Ottoman arms,
when all outward defences were swept away. Every knight was animated by
a sentiment of devotion to his order, and that hatred to the infidel in
which he had been nursed from his cradle, and which had become a part of
his existence. These sentiments he had happily succeeded in
communicating to his followers, and even to the people of the island.
Thus impelled by an unswerving principle of conduct, the whole body
exhibited that unity and promptness of action which belongs to an
individual. From the first hour of the siege to the last, all idea of
listening to terms from the enemy was rejected. Every man was prepared
to die rather than surrender. One exception only occurred,--that of a
private soldier in La Sangle, who, denying the possibility of holding
out against the Turks, insisted on the necessity of accepting the terms
offered to the garrison. The example of his cowardice might have proved
contagious; and the wretched man expiated his offence on the
gallows.[1388]

Above all, the strength of the besieged lay in the character of their
chief. La Valette was one of those rare men whom Providence seems to
raise up for special occasions, so wonderfully are their peculiar
qualities suited to the emergency. To that attachment to his order which
he had in common with his brethren, he united a strong religious
sentiment, sincere and self-sacrificing, which shone through every act
of his life. This gave him an absolute ascendancy over his followers,
which he had the capacity to turn to full account. He possessed many of
the requisites for success in action; great experience, a quick eye, a
cool judgment. To these was united a fixedness of purpose not to be
shaken by menace or entreaty; and which was only to be redeemed from the
imputation of obstinacy by the extraordinary character of the
circumstances in which he was placed. The reader will recall a memorable
example, when La Valette insisted on defending St. Elmo to the last, in
defiance not only of the remonstrance, but the resistance, of its
garrison. Another equally pertinent is his refusal, though in opposition
to his council, to abandon the town and retire to St. Angelo. One can
hardly doubt that on his decision, in both these cases, rested the fate
of Malta.

La Valette was of a serious turn, and, as it would seem, with a tendency
to sadness in his temperament. In the portraits that remain of him, his
noble features are touched with a shade of melancholy, which, taken in
connection with his history, greatly heightens the interest of their
expression. His was not the buoyant temper, the flow of animal spirits,
which carries a man over every obstacle in his way. Yet he could comfort
the sick, and cheer the desponding; not by making light of danger, but
by encouraging them like brave men fearlessly to face it. He did not
delude his followers by the promises--after he had himself found them to
be delusive--of foreign succor. He taught them, instead, to rely on the
succor of the Almighty, who would never desert those who were fighting
in his cause. He infused into them the spirit of martyrs,--that brave
spirit which, arming the soul with contempt of death, makes the weak man
stronger than the strongest.

There is one mysterious circumstance in the history of this siege which
has never been satisfactorily explained,--the conduct of the viceroy of
Sicily. Most writers account for it by supposing that he only acted in
obedience to the secret instructions of his master, unwilling to hazard
the safety of his fleet by interfering in behalf of the knights, unless
such interference became absolutely necessary. But even on such a
supposition the viceroy does not stand excused; for it was little less
than a miracle that the knights were not exterminated before he came to
their relief; and we can hardly suppose that an astute, far-sighted
prince, like Philip, who had been so eager to make conquests from the
Moslems in Africa, would have consented that the stronghold of the
Mediterranean should pass into the hands of the Turks. It seems more
probable that Don Garcia, aware of the greater strength of the Turkish
armament, and oppressed by the responsibility of his situation as
viceroy of Sicily, should have shrunk from the danger to which that
island would be exposed by the destruction of his fleet. On any view of
the case, it is difficult to explain a course so irreconcilable with the
plan of operations concerted with the grand-master, and the promises of
support given to him by Don Garcia at the beginning of the siege.

La Valette, we are told, subsequently complained of the viceroy's
conduct to Pius the Fifth; and that pontiff represented the affair to
the king of Spain. Don Garcia had, soon after, the royal permission to
retire from the government of Sicily. He withdrew to the kingdom of
Naples, where he passed the remainder of his days, without public
employment of any kind, and died in obscurity.[1389]--Such a fate may
not be thought, after all, conclusive evidence that he had not acted in
obedience to the private instructions of his sovereign.

[Sidenote: SUBSEQUENT HISTORY OF LA VALETTE.]

The reader, who has followed La Valette through the siege of Malta, may
perhaps feel some curiosity to learn the fate of this remarkable
man.--The discomfiture of the Turks caused a great sensation throughout
Europe. In Rome the tidings were announced by the discharge of cannon,
illuminations, and bonfires. The places of public business were closed.
The shops were shut. The only places opened were the churches; and
thither persons of every rank--the pope, the cardinals, and the
people--thronged in procession, and joined in public thanksgiving for
the auspicious event. The rejoicing was great all along the shores of
the Mediterranean, where the inhabitants had so severely suffered from
the ravages of the Turks. The name of La Valette was on every tongue, as
that of the true champion of the cross. Crowned heads vied with one
another in the honors and compliments which they paid him. The king of
Spain sent him a present of a sword and poniard, the handles of which
were of gold superbly mounted with diamonds. The envoy, who delivered
these in presence of the assembled knights, accompanied the gift with a
pompous eulogy on La Valette himself, whom he pronounced the greatest
captain of the age, beseeching him to continue to employ his sword in
defence of Christendom. Pius the Fifth sent him--what, considering the
grand-master's position, may be thought a singular compliment--a
cardinal's hat. La Valette, however, declined it, on the ground that his
duties as a cardinal would interfere with those which devolved on him as
head of the order. Some referred his refusal to modesty; others, with
probably quite as much reason, to his unwillingness to compromise his
present dignity by accepting a subordinate station.[1390]

But La Valette had no time to dally with idle compliments and honors.
His little domain lay in ruins around him; and his chief thought now was
how to restore its fortunes. The first year after the siege, the knights
had good reason to fear a new invasion of the Moslems; and Philip
quartered a garrison of near fifteen thousand troops in the island for
its protection.[1391] But Solyman fortunately turned his arms against a
nearer enemy, and died in the course of the same year, while carrying on
the war against Hungary.[1392] Selim, his successor, found another
direction for his ambition. Thus relieved of his enemies, the
grand-master was enabled to devote all his energies to the great work of
rebuilding his fallen capital, and placing the island in a more perfect
state of defence than it had ever been. He determined on transferring
the residence of the order to the high land of Mount Sceberras, which
divides the two harbors, and which would give him the command of both.
His quick eye readily discerned those advantages of the position, which
time has since fully proved. Here he resolved to build his capital, to
surround it with fortifications, and, at the same time, to enlarge and
strengthen those of St. Elmo.

But his treasury was low. He prepared a plan of his improvements, which
he sent to the different European princes, requesting their coöperation,
and urging the importance to them all of maintaining Malta as the best
bulwark against the infidel. His plan met with general approbation. Most
of the sovereigns responded to his appeal by liberal contributions,--and
among them the French king; notwithstanding his friendly relations with
the sultan. To these funds the members of the order freely added
whatever each could raise by his own credit. This amount was still
further swelled by the proceeds of prizes brought into port by the
Maltese cruisers,--an inexhaustible source of revenue.

Funds being thus provided, the work went forward apace. On the
twenty-eighth of March, 1566, the grand-master, clad in his robes of
ceremony, and in the presence of a vast concourse of knights and
inhabitants, laid the first stone of the new capital. It was carved with
his own arms; and a Latin inscription recorded the name of "Valetta,"
which the city was to bear in honor of its founder.[1393] More than
eight thousand men were employed on the work; and a bull of Pius the
Fifth enjoined that their labors should not be suspended on
fête-days.[1394] It seemed to be regarded as a Christian duty to provide
for the restoration of Malta.[1395] La Valette superintended the
operations in person. He was ever to be seen on the spot, among the
workmen. There he took his meals, discussed affairs of state with his
council, and even gave audience to envoys from abroad.[1396]

In the midst of these quiet occupations, there were some occurrences
which distracted the attention, and greatly disturbed the tranquillity,
of La Valette. One of these was the disorderly conduct of some of the
younger knights. Another was a dispute in which he was involved with the
pope, who, in the usual encroaching spirit of the Vatican, had
appropriated to himself the nomination to certain benefices belonging to
the order.

[Sidenote: SUBSEQUENT HISTORY OF LA VALETTE.]

These unpleasant affairs weighed heavily on the grand-master's mind; and
he often sought to relieve his spirits by the diversion of hawking, of
which he was extremely fond. While engaged in this sport, on a hot day
in July, he received a stroke of the sun. He was immediately taken to Il
Borgo. A fever set in; and it soon became apparent that his frame,
enfeebled by his unparalleled fatigues and hardships, was rapidly
sinking under it. Before dying, he called around his bed some of the
brethren to whom the management of affairs was chiefly committed, and
gave them his counsel in respect to the best method of carrying out his
plans. He especially enjoined on them to maintain a spirit of unity
among themselves, if they would restore the order to its ancient
prosperity and grandeur. By his testament, he liberated his slaves, some
fifty in number; and he obtained the consent of his brethren to bequeath
a sum sufficient to endow a chapel he had built in Valetta, to
commemorate his victory over the infidels. It was dedicated to the
Blessed Virgin; and in this chapel he desired that his body might be
laid. Having completed these arrangements, he expired on the
twenty-first of August, 1568.

La Valette's dying commands were punctually executed by his brethren.
The coffin inclosing his remains was placed on board of the admiral's
galley, which, with four others that escorted it, was shrouded in black.
They bore the household of the deceased, and the members of the order.
The banners taken by him in battle with the Moslems were suspended from
the sterns of the vessels, and trailed through the water. The
procession, on landing, took its way through the streets of the embryo
capital, where the sounds of labor were now hushed, to the chapel of Our
Lady of Victory. The funeral obsequies were there performed with all
solemnity; and the remains of the hero were consigned to the tomb,
amidst the tears of the multitude, who had gathered from all parts of
the island, to pay this sad tribute of respect to his memory.[1397]

The traveller who visits Malta at the present day finds no object more
interesting than the stately cathedral of Valetta, still rich in
historical memorials and in monuments of art, of which even French
rapacity could not despoil it. As he descends into its crypts, and
wanders through its subterranean recesses, he sees the niche where still
repose the remains of La Valette, surrounded by the brave chivalry who
fought, side by side with him, the battles of the Faith. And surely no
more fitting place could be found for his repose, than the heart of the
noble capital which may be said to have been created by his
genius.[1398]

The Knights of St. John continued, in the main, faithful to the maxims
of La Valette and to the principles of their institution. For more than
two centuries after his death, their sword was ever raised against the
infidel. Their galleys still returned to port freighted with the spoils
of the barbarian. They steadily continued to advance in power and
opulence; and while empires rose and crumbled around them, this little
brotherhood of warlike monks, after a lapse of more than seven centuries
from its foundation, still maintained a separate and independent
existence.

In the long perspective of their annals, there was no event which they
continued to hold in so much honor as the defence of Malta by La
Valette. The eighth of September--the day of the nativity of the
Virgin--continued to the last to be celebrated as their proudest
anniversary. On that day the whole body of the knights, and the people
of the capital, walked in solemn procession, with the grand-master at
their head, to the church of St. John. A knight, wearing the helmet and
mailed armor of the ancient time, bore on high the victorious standard
of the order. A page by his side carried the superb sword and poniard
presented by Philip the Second. As the procession passed into the
church, and the standard was laid at the foot of the altar, it was
announced by flourishes of trumpets and by peals of artillery from the
fortresses. The services were performed by the prior of St. John's; and,
while the Gospel was read, the grand-master held the naked sword aloft,
in token that the knights were ever ready to do battle for the
Cross.[1399] When the ceremony was concluded, a fine portrait of La
Valette was exhibited to the people; and the brethren gazed, with
feelings of reverence, on his majestic lineaments, as on those of the
saviour of their order.[1400]

But all this is changed. The Christians, instead of being banded against
the Turk, now rally in his defence. There are no longer crusades against
the infidel. The age of chivalry has passed. The objects for which the
Knights Hospitallers were instituted have long since ceased to exist;
and it was fitting that the institution, no longer needed, should die
with them. The knights who survived the ruin of their order became
wanderers in foreign lands. Their island has passed into the hands of
the stranger; and the flag of England now waves from the ramparts on
which once floated the banner of St. John.




CHAPTER VI.

DON CARLOS.

His Education and Character.--Dangerous Illness.--Extravagant
Behavior.--Opinions respecting him.--His Connection with the
Flemings.--Project of Flight.--Insane Conduct.--Arrest.

1567, 1568.


We must now, after a long absence, return to the shores of Spain, where
events were taking place of the highest importance to the future
fortunes of the monarchy. At the time when the tragic incidents
described in the preceding Book were passing in the Netherlands, others,
not less tragic, if we may trust to popular rumor, were occurring in the
very palace of the monarch. I allude to the death of Don Carlos, prince
of Asturias, and that of Isabella of Valois, Philip's young and
beautiful queen. The relations in which the two parties stood to each
other, their untimely fate, and the mystery in which it was enveloped,
have conspired with the sombre, unscrupulous character of Philip to
suggest the most horrible suspicions of the cause of their death. The
mystery which hung over them in their own time has not been dissipated
by the researches of later chroniclers. For that very reason, it has
proved an inexhaustible theme for fiction, until it might be thought to
have passed from the domain of history into that of romance. It has been
found especially suited to the purposes of the drama; and the dramatic
literature of Europe contains more than one masterpiece from the hand of
genius, which displays in sombre coloring the loves and the misfortunes
of Carlos and Isabella.[1401]

[Sidenote: HIS EDUCATION AND CHARACTER.]

The time for discussing so dark and intricate a subject had not arrived
while the Spanish archives were jealously locked up even from native
scholars. But now that happily a more liberal system has prevailed, and
access has been given to the dread repositories of the secrets of the
Spanish sovereigns, the time seems to have come for investigating this
mysterious story. And if I cannot boast that I have been able to dispel
the doubts that have so long gathered around the subject, I may at least
flatter myself that, with the materials at my command, I have the means
of placing the reader in a better point of view than has yet been
enjoyed, for surveying the whole ground, and forming his own
conclusions.

Don Carlos was born on the eighth of July, 1545. His mother, Mary of
Portugal, then only eighteen years of age, died a few days after giving
birth to her ill-fated child. Thus deprived from the cradle of a
mother's watchful care, he experienced almost as little of his father's;
for, until Carlos was fourteen years old, Philip was absent most of the
time, either in the Low Countries or in England. The care of the child
was intrusted, during the greater part of this period, to Philip's
sister, the Regent Joanna,--an excellent woman, but who, induced
probably by the feeble constitution of Carlos, is said to have shown too
much indulgence to the boy, being more solicitous to secure his bodily
health than to form his character. In our easy faith in the miracles
claimed for education, it sometimes happens that we charge on the
parent, or the preceptor, the defects that may be more reasonably
referred to the vicious constitution of the child.

As Carlos grew older, Philip committed the care of his instruction to
Honorato Juan, a member of the emperor's household. He was a
well-trained scholar, and a man of piety as well as learning; and soon
after assuming the task of the prince's preceptor, he embraced the
religious profession. The correspondence of Honorato Juan with Philip,
then in Flanders, affords a view of the proficiency of Carlos when
eleven or twelve years old. The contentment which the king evinces in
the earlier letters diminishes as we advance; and anxious doubts are
expressed, as he gathers the unwelcome information from his tutor of his
pupil's indifference to his studies.[1402]

In the year 1556, Charles the Fifth stopped some time at Valladolid, on
his way to his cloistered retreat at Yuste. He there saw his grandson,
and took careful note of the boy, the heir to the vast dominions which
he had himself so recently relinquished. He told over his campaigns to
Carlos, and how he had fled at Innsbruck, where he barely escaped
falling into the hands of the enemy. Carlos, who listened eagerly,
interrupted his grandfather, exclaiming, "I never would have fled!"
Charles endeavored to explain the necessity of the case; but the boy
sturdily maintained, that he never would have fled,--amusing and indeed
delighting the emperor, who saw in this the mettle of his own earlier
days.[1403] Yet Charles was not blind to the defects of his
grandson,--to the wayward, overbearing temper, which inferred too much
indulgence on the part of his daughter the regent. He reprehended Carlos
for his want of deference to his aunt; and he plainly told the latter,
that, if she would administer more wholesome correction to the boy, the
nation would have reason to thank her for it.[1404]

After the emperor had withdrawn to his retreat, his mind, which kept its
hold, as we have seen, on all matters of public interest beyond the
walls of the monastery, still reverted to his grandson, the heir of his
name and of his sceptre. At Simancas the correspondence is still
preserved which he carried on with Don Garcia de Toledo, a brother of
the duke of Alva, who held the post of _ayo_, or governor of the prince.
In one of that functionary's letters, written in 1557, when Carlos was
twelve years old, we have a brief chronicle of the distribution of the
prince's time, somewhat curious, as showing the outlines of a royal
education in that day.

Before seven in the morning Carlos rose, and by half-past eight had
breakfasted, and attended mass. He then went to his studies, where he
continued till the hour of dinner. What his studies were we are not
told. One writer of the time says, among other things, he read Cicero's
Offices, in order the better to learn to control his passions.[1405] At
eleven he dined. He then amused himself with his companions, by playing
at quoits, or at _trucos_, a kind of billiards, or in fencing, and
occasionally riding. At half-past three came a light repast, the
_merienda_; after which he listened to reading, or, if the weather was
fine, strolled in the fields. In the evening he supped; and at half-past
nine, having gone through the prayers of his rosary, he went to bed,
where, as his _ayo_ says, he usually made but one nap of it till the
morning.--It was certainly a primitive way of life, in which more regard
seems to have been had to the cravings of the body than of the mind, and
as regular in its routine as the monastic life of his grandfather at
Yuste. Yet Don Garcia does not fail to intimate his discontent with the
want of interest shown by his pupil, not merely in his studies, but in
fencing, cane-playing, and other manly exercises, so essential to the
education of a cavalier of that day.[1406] He notices, at the same time,
the first symptoms of those bilious attacks which already menaced the
prince's constitution, and so effectually undermined it in later
years.[1407]

In another epistle, Don Garcia suggests that it might be well for the
emperor to allow Carlos to visit him at Yuste, trusting that his
grandfather's authority would accomplish what his own had failed to
do.[1408] But this suggestion found no favor, apparently, with the royal
recluse, who probably was not disposed to do penance himself by
receiving so troublesome an inmate in his family. The emperor's own
death, which occurred shortly after this, spared him the misery of
witnessing the disastrous career of his grandson.

[Sidenote: HIS EDUCATION AND CHARACTER.]

The reports of the Venetian ministers--those precious documents that
contain so much instruction in respect to matters both of public and
domestic interest--make occasional allusions to the prince, at this
period. Their notices are by no means flattering. They describe Carlos
as of a reckless, impatient temper, fierce, and even cruel, in his
disposition,[1409] and so arrogant as to be unwilling to stand with his
head uncovered, for any long time, in the presence of the emperor or
his father.[1410] Yet this harsh picture is somewhat redeemed by other
traits; for he was generous, though to a degree of prodigality,--giving
away his trinkets and jewels, even his clothes, in default of money. He
had a fearless heart, with a strong passion for a military life. He was
far from frivolous in his tastes, despising buffoons, and saying himself
so many good things that his tutor carefully made a collection of
them.[1411] This portrait of a youth scarcely fourteen years old seems
as highly overcharged, whether for good or for evil, as portraits of
princes usually are.

Yet the state of the prince's health may be fairly mentioned in
extenuation of his defects,--at least of his infirmity of temper. For
his bilious temperament already began to show itself in the form of
intermittent fever, with which he continued to be afflicted for the
remainder of his life. Under this depressing disorder, his spirits sank,
his body wasted away, and his strength failed to such a degree, that it
was feared he might not reach the age of manhood.[1412]

In the beginning of 1560, Isabella of France came to Castile, and on the
second of February was united to Philip. By the preliminaries of the
treaty of Cateau-Cambresis, her hand had been assigned to Don Carlos;
but Mary Tudor having died before the ratification of the treaty, the
name of the father was substituted for that of the son, and the royal
maiden was affianced to Philip.

The marriage ceremony was performed with great splendor, at Toledo.
Carlos was present; and, as he gazed on the beautiful bride, it is not
improbable that some feelings of resentment may have mingled with
regret, when he thought of the unceremonious manner in which her hand
had been transferred from him to his father. But we should be slow to
believe that Isabella could have felt anything like the tender sentiment
that romantic historians have attributed to her, for a boy of fourteen,
who had so few personal attractions to recommend him.

On the twenty-second of the same month, Carlos was formally recognized
by the cortes of Castile as heir to the crown. On this occasion, the
different members of the royal family were present, together with the
great nobles and the representatives of the commons. The prince rode in
the procession on a white horse, superbly caparisoned while his dress,
resplendent with jewels, formed a sad contrast to the sallow and sickly
countenance of its wearer.[1413] He performed his part of the ceremony
with dignity and feeling. When Joanna, his aunt, and his uncle, Don John
of Austria, after taking the oath, would have knelt, according to
custom, to kiss his hand, he would not allow it, but affectionately
raised and embraced them. But when the duke of Alva inadvertently
omitted the latter act of obeisance, the prince received him so coldly,
that the haughty nobleman, rebuked by his manner, perceived his error,
and humbly acknowledged it.[1414]

In the autumn of the following year, with the hope of mending his health
by change of air, Carlos removed to Alcalá de Henares, famous for its
university founded by the great Ximenes. He had for his companions two
youths, both destined to a conspicuous part in the history of the times.
One was Philip's illegitimate brother, Don John of Austria, the hero of
Lepanto; the other was the prince's cousin, Alexander Farnese, son of
Margaret of Parma, who was now in the course of training which was one
day to make him the greatest captain of his time. The three boys were
nearly of the same age; but in their accomplishments and personal
appearance the uncle and the cousin afforded as strong a contrast to
their royal kinsman, as in the brilliant fortunes that awaited
them.[1415]

Carlos had not been at Alcalá many months, before he met with an
accident, which was attended with most disastrous consequences. One
evening in April, 1562, as he was descending a flight of stairs, he made
a misstep, and fell headlong down five or six stairs against a door at
the bottom of the passage. He was taken up senseless, and removed to his
chamber, where his physicians were instantly summoned, and the necessary
remedies applied.[1416] At first it seemed only a simple contusion on
the head, and the applications of the doctors had the desired effect.
But soon the symptoms became more alarming. Fever set in. He was
attacked by erysipelas; his head swelled to an enormous size; he became
totally blind; and this was followed by delirium. It now appeared that
the skull was fractured. The royal physicians were called in; and after
a stormy consultation, in which the doctors differed, as usual, as to
the remedies to be applied, it was determined to trepan the patient. The
operation was carefully performed; a part of the bone of the skull was
removed; but relief was not obtained.[1417]

[Sidenote: DANGEROUS ILLNESS AND RECOVERY.]

Meanwhile the greatest alarm spread through the country, at the prospect
of losing the heir apparent. Processions were everywhere made to the
churches, prayers were put up, pilgrimages were vowed, and the
discipline was unsparingly administered by the fanatical multitude, who
hoped by selfinflicted penance to avert the wrath of Heaven from the
land. Yet all did not avail.

We have a report of the case from the pen of Dr. Olivares, the prince's
own physician. Some of the remedies were of a kind that would look
strangely enough if reported by a medical journal of our own day. After
all efforts of professional skill had failed, and the unguent of a
Moorish doctor, famous among the people, had been rubbed on the body
without success, it was resolved to make a direct appeal to Heaven. In
the monastery of Jesus Maria lay the bones of a holy Franciscan, Fray
Diego, who had died a hundred years before, in the reign of Henry the
Fourth, in the odor of sanctity. King Philip and his court went in
solemn procession to the church; and in their presence, the mouldering
remains of the good father, still sweet to the nostrils, as we are told,
were taken from their iron coffin, and transported to the prince's
apartment. They were there laid on his bed; and the cloth that wrapped
the skull of the dead man was placed on the forehead of Carlos.[1418]
Fortunately the delirious state of the patient prevented the shock that
might otherwise have been given to his senses. That very night the friar
appeared to Carlos in his sleep. He was muffled in his Franciscan robe,
with a green girdle about his waist, and a cross of reeds in his hand;
and he mildly bade him "be of good cheer, for that he would certainly
recover." From this time, as the physician who reports the case admits,
the patient began speedily to mend. The fever subsided, his head
returned to its natural dimensions, his eyes were restored to sight. At
the end of something less than two months from the date of the accident,
Carlos, who had shown a marvellous docility throughout his
illness,[1419] was enabled to walk into the adjoining apartment, and
embrace his father, who, during the critical period of his son's
illness, had established his residence at Alcalá, showing the solicitude
natural to a parent in such an extremity.

The merit of the cure was of course referred to Fray Diego.[1420] An
account of the miracle, duly authenticated, was transmitted to Rome; and
the holy man, on the application of Philip, received the honors of
canonization from the pontiff. The claims of the new saint to the credit
of achieving the cure were confidently asserted by the Castilian
chroniclers of that and succeeding ages; nor have I met with any one
hardy enough to contest them, unless it be Dr. Olivares himself, who,
naturally jealous of his professional honor, intimated his
conviction,--this was before the canonization,--that with some
allowance for the good wrought by Fray Diego's intercession and the
prayers of the righteous, the recovery of the prince was mainly to be
referred to the skill of his physicians.[1421]

But the recovery of Carlos does not seem to have been so complete as was
at first thought. There is good reason to suppose that the blow on his
head did some permanent injury to the brain. At least this may be
inferred from the absurd eccentricities of his subsequent conduct, and
the reckless manner in which he abandoned himself to the gratification
of his passions. In 1565, on his recovery from one of those attacks of
quartan-fever which still beset him, Philip remarked, with a sigh, to
the French minister, St. Sulpice, "that he hoped his repeated warnings
might restrain the prince, for the future, from making such fatal
inroads on his health."[1422] But the unfortunate young man profited as
little by such warnings as by his own experience. Persons about the
court at this period have left us many stories of his mad humors, which
formed the current scandal at Madrid. Brantôme, who was there in 1564,
says that Carlos would patrol the streets with a number of young nobles,
of the same lawless habits with himself, assaulting the passengers with
drawn swords, kissing the women, and insulting even ladies of the
highest rank with the most opprobrious epithets.[1423]

It was the fashion for the young gallants of the court to wear very
large boots. Carlos had his made even larger than usual, to accommodate
a pair of small pistols. Philip, in order to prevent the mischievous
practice, ordered his son's boots to be made of smaller dimensions. But
when the bootmaker brought them to the palace, Carlos, in a rage, gave
him a beating; and then, ordering the leather to be cut in pieces and
stewed, he forced the unlucky mechanic to swallow this unsavory
fricassee--as much as he could get down of it--on the spot.[1424]

On one occasion, he made a violent assault on his governor, Don Garcia
de Toledo, for some slight cause of offence. On another, he would have
thrown his chamberlain, Don Alonzo de Cordova, out of the window. These
noblemen complained to Philip, and besought him to release them from a
service where they were exposed to affronts which they could not resent.
The king consented, transferring them to his own service, and appointed
Ruy Gomez de Silva, prince of Eboli, his favorite minister, the governor
of Carlos.[1425]

[Sidenote: HIS DISPOSITION.]

But the prince was no respecter of persons. Cardinal Espinosa, president
of the Council of Castile, and afterwards grand-inquisitor, banished a
player named Cisneros from the palace, where he was to have performed
that night for the prince's diversion. It was probably by Philip's
orders. But however that may be, Carlos, meeting the cardinal, seized
him roughly by the collar, and, laying his hand on his poniard,
exclaimed, "You scurvy priest, do you dare to prevent Cisneros from
playing before me? By the life of my father, I will kill you!"[1426] The
trembling prelate, throwing himself on his knees, was too happy to
escape with his life from the hands of the infuriated prince. Whether
the latter had his way in the end, in regard to the comedian, is not
stated. But the stuff of which a grand-inquisitor is made is not apt to
be of the yielding sort.

A more whimsical anecdote is told us by Nobili, the Tuscan ambassador,
then resident at the court. Carlos, having need of money, requested a
merchant, named Grimaldo, to advance him the sum of fifteen hundred
ducats. The money-lender readily consented, thanking the prince for the
favor done him, and adding, in the usual grandiloquent vein of the
Castilian, that "all he had was at his disposal."[1427] Carlos took him
at his word, and forthwith demanded a hundred thousand ducats. In vain
poor Grimaldo, astounded by the request, protested that "it would ruin
his credit; that what he had said was only words of compliment." Carlos
replied, "he had no right to bandy compliments with princes; and if he
did not in four and twenty hours pay the money to the last _real_, he
and his family would have cause to rue it." It was not till after much
negotiation that Ruy Gomez succeeded in prevailing on the prince to be
content with the more modest sum of sixty thousand ducats, which was
accordingly furnished by the unfortunate merchant.[1428] The money thus
gained, according to Nobili, was squandered as suddenly as it was got.

There are happily some touches of light to relieve the shadows with
which the portrait is charged. Tiepolo, who was ambassador from Venice
at the court of Madrid in 1567, when Carlos was twenty-two years old,
gives us some account of the prince. He admits his arrogant and fiery
temper, but commends his love of truth, and, what we should hardly have
expected, the earnestness with which he engaged in his devotions. He was
exceedingly charitable, asking, "Who would give, if princes did
not?"[1429] He was splendid in his way of living, making the most
liberal recompense, not only to his own servants, but to the king's, who
were greatly attached to him.[1430] He was ambitious of taking part in
the conduct of public affairs, and was sorely discontented when excluded
from them--as seems to have been usually the case--by his father.[1431]

It was certainly to the prince's credit, that he was able to inspire
those who approached him most nearly with strong feelings of personal
attachment. Among these were his aunt Joanna, the regent, and the queen,
Isabella, who, regarding him with an interest justified by the
connection, was desirous of seeing him married to her own sister. His
aunt Mary and her husband, the Emperor Maximilian, also held Carlos,
whom they had known in early days, in the kindest remembrance, and
wished to secure his hand for their eldest daughter. A still more
honorable testimony is borne by the relations in which he stood to his
preceptor, Honorato Juan, who, at the prince's solicitation, had been
raised to the bishopric of Osma. Carlos would willingly have kept this
good man near his own person. But he was detained in his diocese; and
the letters from time to time addressed to him by his former pupil,
whatever may be thought of them as pieces of composition, do honor to
the prince's heart. "My best friend in this life," he affectionately
writes at the close of them, "I will do all that you desire."[1432]
Unfortunately, this good friend and counsellor died in 1566. By his
will, he requested Carlos to select for himself any article among his
effects that he preferred. He even gave him authority to change the
terms of the instrument, and make any other disposition of his property
that he thought right![1433] It was a singular proof of confidence in
the testator, unless we are to receive it merely as a Spanish
compliment,--somewhat perilous, as the case of Grimaldo proves, with a
person who interpreted compliments as literally as Carlos.

From all this, there would seem to have been the germs of generous
qualities in the prince's nature, which, under a happier culture, might
have been turned to some account. But he was placed in that lofty
station which exposed him to the influence of parasites, who flattered
his pride, and corrupted his heart, by ministering to his pleasures.
From the eminence which he occupied, even the smallest errors and
eccentricities became visible to the world, and the objects of unsparing
criticism. Somewhat resembling his father in person, he was different
from him both in his good qualities and his defects, so that a complete
barrier was raised between them. Neither party could comprehend the
other; and the father was thus destitute of the means which he might
else have had of exerting an influence over the son. The prince's
dissipated way of life, his perpetual lapses from decorum, or, to speak
more properly, his reckless defiance of decency, outraged his father, so
punctilious in his own observance of the outward decencies of life. He
may well have dwelt on such excesses of Carlos with pain; but it may be
doubted if the prince's more honorable desire to mingle in public
affairs was to the taste of Philip, who was too tenacious of power
willingly to delegate it, beyond what was absolutely necessary, to his
own ministers. The conduct of his son, unhappily, furnished him with a
plausible ground for distrusting his capacity for business.

[Sidenote: HIS CONNECTION WITH THE FLEMINGS.]

Thus distrusted, if not held in positive aversion, by his father;
excluded from any share in the business of the state, as well as from a
military life, which would seem to have been well suited to his
disposition; surrounded by Philip's ministers, whom Carlos, with too
much reason, regarded as spies on his actions,--the unhappy young man
gave himself up to a reckless course of life, equally ruinous to his
constitution and to his character; until the people, who had hailed with
delight the prospect of a native-born prince, now felt a reasonable
apprehension as to his capacity for government.[1434]

But while thus an object of distrust at home, abroad more than one
sovereign coveted an alliance with the heir of the Spanish monarchy.
Catharine de Medicis would gladly have secured his hand for a younger
sister of Isabella, in which project she was entirely favored by the
queen. This was in 1565; but Philip, in his usual procrastinating
spirit, only replied, "They must reflect upon it."[1435] He looked with
a more favorable eye on the proposals warmly pressed by the emperor and
empress of Germany, who, as we have seen, still cherished a kindly
remembrance of Carlos, and wished his union with their daughter Anne.
That princess, who was a year younger than her cousin, claimed Spain as
her native land, having been born there during the regency of
Maximilian. But although the parties were of suitable age, and Philip
acquiesced in the proposals for their marriage, his want of confidence
in his son, if we may credit the historians, still moved him to defer
the celebration of it.[1436] Anne did indeed live to mount the throne of
Castile, but as the wife, not of Carlos, but of Philip, after the death
of Isabella. Thus, by a singular fatality, the two princesses who had
been destined for the son were each of them married to the father.

The revolutionary movement in the Netherlands was at this time the great
subject that engaged the attention of the Spaniards; and Carlos is
reported to have taken a lively interest in it. According to Antonio
Perez, the Flemings then at the court made positive overtures to the
prince to head the revolt.[1437] Strada speaks of Bergen and Montigny,
then at Madrid, as the channel of communication through which Carlos
engaged to settle the affairs of that distracted country.[1438] That a
person of his ardent temper should have felt sympathy with a people thus
bravely struggling for its liberties, is not improbable; nor would one
with whom "to think and to speak was the same thing,"[1439] be at all
unlikely to express himself on the subject with much more freedom than
discretion. And it may have been in allusion to this that his almoner,
Suarez, in a letter without date, implores the prince "to abandon his
dangerous designs, the illusion of the Evil One, which cannot fail to
bring mischief to himself and disquiet to the monarchy!"[1440] The
letter concludes with a homily, in which the good doctor impresses on
the prince the necessity of filial obedience, by numerous examples, from
sacred and profane story, of the sad end of those who had impiously
rejected the counsels of their parents.[1441]

But although it is true that this hypothesis would explain much that is
enigmatical in the subsequent history of Carlos, I must confess I have
met with no confirmation of it in the correspondence of those who had
the direction of affairs in the Low Countries, nor in the charges
alleged against Montigny himself,--where an attempt to suborn the
heir-apparent, one might suppose, would have been paraded as the most
heinous offence. Still, that Carlos regarded himself as the proper
person to be intrusted with the mission to the Netherlands is evident
from his treatment of Alva, when that nobleman was appointed to the
command of the army.

On that occasion, as the duke came to pay his respects to him previous
to his departure, the prince fiercely said, "You are not to go to
Flanders; I will go there myself." Alva endeavored to pacify him, saying
that it was too dangerous a mission for the heir to the throne; that he
was going to quiet the troubles of the country, and prepare it for the
coming of the king, when the prince could accompany his father, if his
presence could be spared in Castile. But this explanation served only to
irritate Carlos the more; and, drawing his dagger, he turned suddenly on
the duke, exclaiming, "You shall not go; if you do, I will kill you." A
struggle ensued,--an awkward one for Alva, as to have injured the
heir-apparent might have been construed into treason. Fortunately, being
much the stronger of the two, he grappled with Carlos, and held him
tight, while the latter exhausted his strength in ineffectual struggles
to escape. But no sooner was the prince released, than he turned again,
with the fury of a madman, on the duke, who again closed with him, when
the noise of the fray brought in one of the chamberlains from an
adjoining room; and Carlos, extricating himself from the iron grasp of
his adversary, withdrew to his own apartment.[1442]

Such an outrage on the person of his minister was regarded by Philip as
an indignity to himself. It widened the breach, already too wide,
between father and son; and so great was this estrangement, that, when
living in the same palace, they seem to have had no communication with
each other.[1443] Much of Philip's time, however, at this period, was
passed at the Escorial, where he was watching over the progress of the
magnificent pile which was to commemorate the victory of St. Quentin.
But, while in his retreat, the ministers placed about his son furnished
the king with faithful reports of his proceedings.

[Sidenote: PROJECT OF FLIGHT.]

Such was the deplorable state of things, when Carlos came to the fatal
determination to escape from the annoyances of his present position by
flying to some foreign land. To what country is not certainly known;
some say to the Netherlands, others to Germany. The latter, on the
whole, seems the most probable; as in the court of Vienna he would meet
with his promised bride, and friends who would be sure to welcome him.

As he was destitute of funds for such a journey, he proposed to raise
them through a confidential agent, one of his own household, by
obtaining loans from different cities. Such a reckless mode of
proceeding, which seemed at once to proclaim his purpose, intimated too
plainly the heedlessness of his character, and his utter ignorance of
affairs.

But while these negotiations were in progress, a circumstance occurred,
exhibiting the conduct of Carlos in such a light that it may claim the
shelter of insanity. The story is told by one of the prince's household,
an _ayuda de camara_, or gentleman of the chamber, who was present at
the scene, which he describes with much simplicity.

For some days his master, he tells us, had no rest, frequently
repeating, that "he desired to kill a man with whom he had a
quarrel!"[1444] The same thing he said--without, however, intimating who
the man was--to his uncle, Don John of Austria, in whom he seems to have
placed unbounded confidence. This was near Christmas, in 1567. It was
customary on the twenty-eighth of December, the day of the Innocents,
for the members of the royal family to appear together, and take the
sacrament in public. Carlos, in order to prepare for this, on the
preceding evening went to the church of St. Jerome, to confess and
receive absolution. But the confessor, when he heard the strange avowal
of his murderous appetite, refused to grant absolution. Carlos applied
to another ecclesiastic, but with as little success. In vain he
endeavored to argue the case. They recommended him to send for more
learned divines, and take their opinion. He did so forthwith; and no
less than fourteen monks from the convent of Our Lady of Atocha, and two
from another quarter, were brought together to settle this strange point
of casuistry. Greatly shocked, they were unanimous in their opinion,
that, under the circumstances, absolution could not be granted. Carlos
next inquired whether he might not be allowed to receive an
unconsecrated wafer, which would obviate the scandal that his omitting
to take the sacrament would infallibly occasion in the court. The
reverend body were thrown into fresh consternation by this proposal. The
prior of Atocha, who was among the number, wishing to draw from Carlos
the name of his enemy, told him that this intelligence might possibly
have some influence on the judgment of the divines. The prince replied,
that "his father was the person, and that he wished to have his
life!"[1445] The prior calmly inquired, if any one was to aid him in the
designs against his father. But Carlos only repeated his former
declaration; and two hours after midnight the conclave broke up in
unspeakable dismay. A messenger was despatched to the Escorial, where
the king then was, to acquaint him with the whole affair.[1446]

Such is the report of the _ayuda de camara_, who says he was in
attendance on the prince that night. The authority is better for some
parts of the story than for others. There is nothing very improbable in
the supposition that Carlos--whose thoughts, as we have seen, lay very
near the surface--should have talked, in the wild way reported of him,
to his attendants. But that he should have repeated to others what had
been drawn from him so cunningly by the prior, or that this appalling
secret should have been whispered within earshot of the attendants, is
difficult to believe. It matters little, however, since, whichever way
we take the story, it savors so much of downright madness in the prince
as in a manner to relieve him from moral responsibility.

By the middle of January, 1568, the prince's agent had returned,
bringing with him a hundred and fifty thousand ducats. It was not more
than a fourth of the amount he had demanded. But it answered for the
present, and the remainder he proposed to have sent after him in bills
of exchange.[1447] Having completed his preparations, he communicated
his intentions to his uncle, Don John, and besought him to accompany him
in his flight. But the latter, after fruitlessly expostulating with his
kinsman on the folly of his proceeding, left Madrid for the Escorial,
where he doubtless reported the affair to the king, his brother.

On the seventeenth, Carlos sent an order to Don Ramon de Tassis, the
director-general of the posts, to have eight horses in readiness for
him, that evening. Tassis, suspecting all was not right, returned an
answer that the horses were out. On the prince repeating his orders in a
more peremptory manner, the postmaster sent all the horses out, and
proceeded himself in all haste to the Escorial.[1448]

[Sidenote: HIS ARREST.]

The king was not long in taking his measures. Some days previous, "this
very religious prince," says the papal nuncio, "according to his wont,
had caused prayers to be put up, in the different monasteries, for the
guidance of Heaven in an affair of great moment."[1449] Such prayers
might have served as a warning to Carlos. But it was too late for
warnings. Philip now proceeded, without loss of time, to Madrid, where
those who beheld him in the audience-chamber, on the morning of the
eighteenth, saw no sign of the coming storm in the serenity of his
countenance.[1450] That morning, he attended mass in public, with the
members of the royal family. After the services, Don John visited Carlos
in his apartment, when the prince, shutting the doors, demanded of his
uncle the subject of his conversation with the king at the Escorial. Don
John evaded the questions as well as he could, till Carlos, heated by
his suspicions, drew his sword, and attacked his uncle, who, retreating,
with his back to the door, called loudly on the prince to desist, and
threw himself into a posture of defence. The noise made by the skirmish
fortunately drew the notice of the attendants, who, rushing in, enabled
Don John to retreat, and Carlos withdrew in sullen silence to his
chamber.[1451]

The prince, it seems, had for some time felt himself insecure in his
father's palace. He slept with as many precautions as a highwayman, with
his sword and dagger by his side, and a loaded musket within reach,
ready at any moment for action.[1452] For further security, he had
caused an ingenious artisan to construct a bolt, in such a way that by
means of pulleys he could fasten or unfasten the door of his chamber
while in bed. With such precautions, it would be a perilous thing to
invade the slumbers of a desperate man like Carlos. But Philip was aware
of the difficulties; and he ordered the mechanic to derange the
machinery so that it should not work: and thus the door was left without
the usual means for securing it.[1453] The rest is told by the _ayuda de
camara_ above mentioned, who was on duty that night, and supped in the
palace.

It was about eleven o'clock, on the evening of the eighteenth, when he
observed the king coming down stairs, wearing armor over his clothes,
and his head protected by a helmet. He was accompanied by the duke of
Feria, captain of the guard, with four or five other lords, and twelve
privates of the guard. The king ordered the valet to shut the door, and
allow no one to enter. The nobles and the guard then passed into the
prince's chamber; and the duke of Feria, stealing softly to the head of
the bed, secured a sword and dagger which lay there, as well as a musket
loaded with two balls. Carlos, roused by the noise, started up, and
demanded who was there. The duke, having got possession of the weapons,
replied, "It is the council of state." Carlos, on hearing this, leaped
from his bed, and, uttering loud cries and menaces, endeavored to seize
his arms. At this moment, Philip, who had prudently deferred his
entrance till the weapons were mastered, came forward, and bade his son
return to bed and remain quiet. The prince exclaimed, "What does your
majesty want of me?" "You will soon learn," said his father, and at the
same time ordered the windows and doors to be strongly secured, and the
keys of the latter to be delivered to him. All the furniture of the
room, with which Carlos could commit any violence, even the andirons,
were removed.[1454] The king, then turning to Feria, told him that "he
committed the prince to his especial charge, and that he must guard him
well." Addressing next the other nobles, he directed them "to serve the
prince with all proper respect, but to execute none of his orders
without first reporting them to himself; finally, to guard him
faithfully, under penalty of being held as traitors."

At these words Carlos exclaimed, "Your majesty had better kill me than
keep me a prisoner. It will be a great scandal to the kingdom. If you do
not kill me, I will make away with myself." "You will do no such thing,"
said the king; "for that would be the act of a madman." "Your majesty,"
replied Carlos, "treats me so ill that you force me to this extremity. I
am not mad, but you drive me to despair!"[1455] Other words passed
between the monarch and his son, whose voice was so broken with sobs as
to be scarcely audible.[1456]

Having completed his arrangements, Philip, after securing a coffer which
contained the prince's papers, withdrew from the apartment. That night,
the duke of Feria, the count of Lerma, and Don Rodrigo de Mendoza,
eldest son of Ruy Gomez, remained in the prince's chamber. Two lords,
out of six named for the purpose, performed the same duty in rotation
each succeeding night. From respect to the prince, none of them were
allowed to wear their swords in his presence. His meat was cut up before
it was brought into his chamber, as he was allowed no knife at his
meals. The prince's attendants were all dismissed, and most of them
afterwards provided for in the service of the king. A guard of twelve
halberdiers were stationed in the passages leading to the tower in which
the apartment of Carlos was situated. Thus all communication from
without was cut off; and, as he was unable to look from his strongly
barricaded windows, the unhappy prisoner from that time remained as dead
to the world as if he had been buried in the deepest dungeon of
Simancas.

The following day, the king called the members of his different councils
together, and informed them of the arrest of his son, declaring that
nothing but his duty to God, and the welfare of the monarchy, could have
moved him to such an act. The tears, according to one present, filled
his eyes, as he made this avowal.[1457]

He then summoned his council of state, and commenced a process against
the prisoner. His affliction did not prevent him from being present all
the while, and listening to the testimony, which, when reduced to
writing, formed a heap of paper half a foot in thickness.--Such is the
account given of this extraordinary proceeding by the _ayuda de
camara_.[1458]

[Sidenote: CAUSES OF HIS IMPRISONMENT.]





CHAPTER VII.

DEATH OF DON CARLOS.

Causes of his Imprisonment.--His Rigorous Confinement.--His
Excesses.--His Death.--Llorente's Account.--Various
Accounts.--Suspicious Circumstances.--Quarrel in the Palace.--Obsequies
of Carlos.

1568.


The arrest of Don Carlos caused a great sensation throughout the
country, much increased by the mysterious circumstances which had
attended it. The wildest rumors were afloat as to the cause. Some said
the prince had meditated a design against his father's life; others,
that he had conspired against that of Ruy Gomez. Some said that he was
plotting rebellion, and had taken part with the Flemings; others
suspected him of heresy. Many took still a different view of the
matter,--censuring the father rather than the son. "_His dagger followed
close upon his smile_," says the historian of Philip; "hence some called
him wise, others severe."[1459] Carlos, they said, never a favorite,
might have been rash in his thoughts and words; but he had done no act
which should have led a father to deal with his son so harshly. But
princes are too apt to be jealous of their successors. They distrusted
the bold and generous spirit of their offspring, whom it would be wiser
to win over by admitting them to some reasonable share in the
government.--"But others there were," concludes the wise chronicler of
the times, "who, more prudent than their neighbors, laid their finger on
their lips, and were silent."[1460]

For some days, Philip would allow no post to leave Madrid, that he might
be the first to send intelligence of this event to foreign courts.[1461]
On the twenty-fourth, he despatched circular letters to the great
ecclesiastics, the grandees, and the municipalities of the chief cities
of the kingdom. They were vague in their import, stating the fact of the
arrest, and assigning much the same general grounds with those he had
stated to the councils. On the same day he sent despatches to the
principal courts of Europe. These, though singularly vague and
mysterious in their language, were more pregnant with suggestions, at
least, than the letters to his subjects. The most curious, on the whole,
and the one that gives the best insight into his motives, is the letter
he addressed to his aunt, the queen of Portugal. She was sister to the
emperor, his father,--an estimable lady, whom Philip had always held in
great respect.

"Although," he writes, "it has long been obvious that it was necessary
to take some order in regard to the prince, yet the feelings of a father
have led me to resort to all other means before proceeding to extremity.
But affairs have at length come to such a pass, that, to fulfil the duty
which, as a Christian prince, I owe both to God and to my realm, I have
been compelled to place my son in strict confinement. Thus have I been
willing to sacrifice to God my own flesh and blood, preferring his
service and the welfare of my people to all human considerations.[1462]
I will only add, that this determination has not been brought about by
any misconduct on the part of my son, or by any want of respect to me;
nor is this treatment of him intended by way of chastisement,--for that,
however just the grounds of it, would have its time and its limit.[1463]
Neither have I resorted to it as an expedient for reforming his
disorderly life. The proceeding rests altogether on another foundation;
and the _remedy I propose is not one either of time or expedients_, but
is of the greatest moment, as I have already remarked, to satisfy my
obligations to God and my people."[1464]

In the same obscure strain, Philip addressed Zuñiga, his ambassador at
the papal court,--saying, that, "although the disobedience which Carlos
had shown through life was sufficient to justify any demonstration of
severity, yet it was not this, but the stern pressure of necessity, that
could alone have driven him to deal in this way with his first-born, his
only son."[1465]

This ambiguous language--implying that the imprisonment of Carlos was
not occasioned by his own misconduct, and yet that both the interests of
religion and the safety of the state demanded his perpetual
imprisonment--may be thought to intimate that the cause referred to
could be no other than insanity. This was plainly stated by the prince
of Eboli, in a communication which, by the king's order, he made to the
French minister, Fourquevaulx. The king, Gomez said, had for three years
past perceived that the prince's head was the weakest part of him, and
that he was, at no time, in complete possession of his understanding. He
had been silent on the matter, trusting that time would bring some
amendment. But it had only made things worse; and he saw, with sorrow,
that to commit the sceptre to his son's hands would be to bring
inevitable misery on his subjects and ruin on the state. With
unspeakable anguish, he had therefore resolved, after long deliberation,
to place his son under constraint.[1466]

[Sidenote: CAUSES OF HIS IMPRISONMENT.]

This at least is intelligible, and very different from Philip's own
despatches,--where it strikes us as strange, if insanity were the true
ground of the arrest, that it should be covered up under such vague and
equivocal language, with the declaration, moreover, usually made in his
letters, that, "at some future time, he would explain the matter more
fully to the parties." One might have thought that the simple plea of
insanity would have been directly given, as furnishing the best apology
for the son, and at the same time vindicating the father for imposing a
wholesome restraint upon his person. But, in point of fact, the
excessive rigor of the confinement, as we shall have occasion to see,
savored much more of the punishment dealt out to some high offender,
than of the treatment of an unfortunate lunatic. Neither is it probable
that a criminal process would have been instituted against one who, by
his very infirmity, was absolved from all moral responsibility.

There are two documents, either of which, should it ever be brought to
light, would probably unfold the true reasons of the arrest of Carlos.
The Spanish ambassador, Zuñiga, informed Philip that the pope,
dissatisfied with the account which he had given of the transaction,
desired a further explanation of it from his majesty.[1467] This, from
such a source, was nearly equivalent to a command. For Philip had a
peculiar reverence for Pius the Fifth, the pope of the Inquisition, who
was a pontiff after his own heart. The king is said never to have passed
by the portrait of his holiness, which hung on the walls of the palace,
without taking off his hat.[1468] He at once wrote a letter to the pope
containing a full account of the transaction. It was written in cipher,
with the recommendation that it should be submitted to Granvelle, then
in Rome, if his holiness could not interpret it. This letter is
doubtless in the Vatican.[1469]

The other document is the process. The king, immediately after the
arrest of his son, appointed a special commission to try him. It
consisted of Cardinal Espinosa, the prince of Eboli, and a royal
councillor, Bribiesca de Muñatones, who was appointed to prepare the
indictment. The writings containing the memorable process instituted by
Philip's ancestor, John the Second of Aragon, against his amiable and
unfortunate son, who also bore the name of Carlos, had been obtained
from the Archives of Barcelona. They were translated from the Catalan
into Castilian, and served for the ominous model for the present
proceedings, which took the form of a trial for high treason. In
conducting this singular prosecution, it does not appear that any
counsel or evidence appeared on behalf of the prisoner, although a
formidable amount of testimony, it would seem, was collected on the
other side. But, in truth, we know little of the proceedings. There is
no proof that any but the monarch, and the secret tribunal that presided
over the trial,--if so it can be called,--ever saw the papers. In 1592,
according to the historian Cabrera, they were deposited, by Philip's
orders, in a green box, strongly secured, in the Archives of
Simancas,[1470]--where, as we have no later information, they may still
remain, to reward the labors of some future antiquary.[1471]

In default of these documents, we must resort to conjecture for the
solution of this difficult problem; and there are several circumstances
which may assist us in arriving at a conclusion. Among the foreign
ministers at that time at the court of Madrid, none took more pains to
come at the truth of this affair,--as his letters abundantly
prove,--than the papal nuncio, Castaneo, archbishop of Rossano. He was a
shrewd, sagacious prelate, whose position and credit at the court gave
him the best opportunities for information. By Philip's command,
Cardinal Espinosa gave the nuncio the usual explanation of the grounds
on which Carlos had been arrested. "It is a strange story," said the
nuncio, "that which we everywhere hear, of the prince's plot against his
father's life." "It would be of little moment," replied the cardinal,
"if the danger to the king were all; as it would be easy to protect his
person. But the present case is worse,--if worse can be; and the king,
who has seen the bad course which his son has taken for these two years
past, has vainly tried to remedy it; till, finding himself unable to
exercise any control over the hair-brained young man, he has been forced
to this expedient."[1472]

Now, in the judgment of a grand-inquisitor, it would probably be thought
that heresy, or any leaning to heresy, was a crime of even a deeper dye
than parricide. The cardinal's discourse made this impression on the
nuncio, who straightway began to cast about for proofs of apostasy in
Don Carlos. The Tuscan minister also notices, in his letters, the
suspicions that Carlos was not a good Catholic.[1473] A confirmation of
this view of the matter may be gathered from the remarks of Pius the
Fifth on Philip's letter in cipher, above noticed. "His holiness,"
writes the Spanish ambassador, "greatly lauds the course taken by your
majesty; for he feels that the preservation of Christianity depends on
your living many years, and on your having a successor who will tread in
your footsteps."[1474]

[Sidenote: CAUSES OF HIS IMPRISONMENT.]

But though all this seems to intimate pretty clearly that the religious
defection of Carlos was a predominant motive for his imprisonment, it is
not easy to believe that a person of his wayward and volatile mind could
have formed any settled opinions in matters of faith, or that his
position would have allowed the Reformers such access to his person as
to have greatly exposed him to the influence of their doctrines. Yet it
is quite possible that he may have taken an interest in those political
movements abroad, which, in the end, were directed against the Church. I
allude to the troubles in the Low Countries, which he is said to have
looked upon with no unfriendly eye. It is true, there is no proof of
this, so far as I am aware, in the correspondence of the Flemish
leaders. Nor is there any reason to suppose that Carlos entered
directly into a correspondence with them himself, or indeed committed
himself by any overt act in support of the cause.[1475] But this was not
necessary for his condemnation; it would have been quite enough, that he
had felt a sympathy for the distresses of the people. From the residence
of Egmont, Bergen, and Montigny at the court, he had obvious means of
communication with those nobles, who may naturally have sought to
interest him in behalf of their countrymen. The sympathy readily kindled
in the ardent bosom of the young prince would be as readily expressed.
That he did feel such a sympathy may perhaps be inferred by his strange
conduct to Alva, on the eve of his departure for the Netherlands. But
the people of that country were regarded at Madrid as in actual
rebellion against the crown. The reformed doctrines which they avowed
gave to the movement the character of a religious revolution. For a
Spaniard to countenance it in any way was at once to prove himself false
both to his sovereign and his faith. In such a light, we may be quite
sure, it would be viewed both by Philip and his minister, the
grand-inquisitor. Nor would it be thought any palliation of the crime,
that the offender was heir to the monarchy.[1476]

As to a design on his father's life, Philip, both in his foreign
despatches and in the communications made by his order to the resident
ministers at Madrid, wholly acquitted Carlos of so horrible a
charge.[1477] If it had any foundation in truth, one might suppose that
Philip, instead of denying, would have paraded it, as furnishing an
obvious apology for subjecting him to so rigorous a confinement. It is
certain, if Carlos had really entertained so monstrous a design, he
might easily have found an opportunity to execute it. That Philip would
have been silent in respect to his son's sympathy with the Netherlands
may well be believed. The great champion of Catholicism would naturally
shrink from publishing to the world that the taint of heresy infected
his own blood.

But, whatever may have been the motives which determined the conduct of
Philip, one cannot but suspect that a deep-rooted aversion to his son
lay at the bottom of them. The dissimilarity of their natures placed the
two parties, from the first, in false relations to each other. The
heedless excesses of youth were regarded with a pitiless eye by the
parent, who, in his own indulgences, at least did not throw aside the
veil of decorum. The fiery temper of Carlos, irritated by a
long-continued system of distrust, exclusion, and _espionnage_, at
length broke out into such senseless extravagances as belong to the
debatable ground of insanity. And this ground afforded, as already
intimated, a plausible footing to the father for proceeding to
extremities against the son.

Whatever were the offences of Carlos, those who had the best
opportunities for observation soon became satisfied that it was intended
never to allow him to regain his liberty, or to ascend the throne of
his ancestors.[1478] On the second of March, a code of regulations was
prepared by Philip relative to the treatment of the prince, which may
give some idea of the rigor of his confinement. He was given in especial
charge to Ruy Gomez, who was placed at the head of the establishment;
and it was from him that every person employed about Carlos was to
receive his commission. Six other nobles were appointed both to guard
the prince and render him service. Two of the number were to remain in
his apartment every night,--the one watching, while the other slept;
reminding us of an ingenious punishment among the Chinese, where a
criminal is obliged to be everywhere followed by an attendant, whose
business it is to keep an unceasing watch upon the offender, that,
wherever he turns, he may still find the same eye riveted upon him!

During the day, it was the duty of these nobles to remain with Carlos
and lighten by their conversation the gloom of his captivity. But they
were not to talk on matters relating to the government, above all to the
prince's imprisonment, on which topic, if he addressed them, they were
to remain obdurately silent. They were to bring no messages to him, and
bear none from him to the world without; and they were to maintain
inviolable secrecy in regard to all that passed within the walls of the
palace, unless when otherwise permitted by the king. Carlos was provided
with a breviary and some other books of devotion; and no works except
those of a devotional character were to be allowed him.[1479]--This last
regulation seems to intimate the existence of certain heretical
tendencies in Carlos, which it was necessary to counteract by books of
an opposite character,--unless it might be considered as an ominous
preparation for his approaching end. Besides the six nobles, no one was
allowed to enter the apartment but the prince's physician, his
_barbero_, or gentleman of the chamber, and his valet. The last was
taken from the _monteros_, or body-guard of the king.[1480] There were
seven others of this faithful corps who were attached to the
establishment, and whose duty it was to bring the dishes for his table
to an outer hall, whence they were taken by the _montero_ in waiting to
the prince's chamber. A guard of twelve halberdiers was also stationed
in the passages leading to the apartment, to intercept all communication
from without. Every person employed in the service, from the highest
noble to the meanest official, made solemn oath, before the prince of
Eboli, to conform to the regulations. On this nobleman rested the whole
responsibility of enforcing obedience to the rules, and of providing for
the security of Carlos. The better to effect this, he was commanded to
remove to the palace, where apartments were assigned to him and the
princess his wife, adjoining those of his prisoner. The arrangement may
have been commended by other considerations to Philip, whose intimacy
with the princess I shall have occasion to notice hereafter.[1481]

[Sidenote: HIS RIGOROUS CONFINEMENT.]

The regulations, severe as they were, were executed to the letter.
Philip's aunt, the queen of Portugal, wrote in earnest terms to the
king, kindly offering herself to remain with her grandson in his
confinement, and take charge of him like a mother in his
affliction.[1482] "But they were very willing," writes the French
minister, "to spare her the trouble."[1483] The emperor and empress
wrote to express the hope that the confinement of Carlos would work an
amendment in his conduct, and that he would soon be liberated. Several
letters passed between the courts, until Philip closed the
correspondence by declaring that his son's marriage with the princess
Anne could never take place, and that he would never be liberated.[1484]

Philip's queen, Isabella, and his sister Joanna, who seem to have been
deeply afflicted by the course taken with the prince, made ineffectual
attempts to be allowed to visit him in his confinement; and when Don
John of Austria came to the palace dressed in a mourning suit, to
testify his grief on the occasion, Philip coldly rebuked his brother,
and ordered him to change his mourning for his ordinary dress.[1485]

Several of the great towns were prepared to send their delegates to
condole with the monarch under his affliction. But Philip gave them to
understand, that he had only acted for the good of the nation, and that
their condolence on the occasion would be superfluous.[1486] When the
deputies of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia were on their way to court,
with instructions to inquire into the cause of the prince's
imprisonment, and to urge his speedy liberation, they received, on the
way, so decided an intimation of the royal displeasure, that they
thought it prudent to turn back, without venturing to enter the
capital.[1487]

In short, it soon came to be understood, that the affair of Don Carlos
was a subject not to be talked about. By degrees, it seemed to pass out
of men's minds, like a thing of ordinary occurrence. "There is as little
said now on the subject of the prince," writes the French ambassador,
Fourquevaulx, "as if he had been dead these ten years."[1488] His name,
indeed, still kept its place, among those of the royal family, in the
prayers said in the churches. But the king prohibited the clergy from
alluding to Carlos in their discourses. Nor did any one venture, says
the same authority, to criticize the conduct of the king. "So complete
is the ascendancy which Philip's wisdom has given him over his subjects,
that, willing or unwilling, all promptly obey him: and if they do not
love him, they at least appear to do so."[1489]

Among the articles removed from the prince's chamber was a coffer, as
the reader may remember, containing his private papers. Among these were
a number of letters intended for distribution after his departure from
the country. One was addressed to his father, in which Carlos avowed
that the cause of his flight was the harsh treatment he had received
from the king.[1490] Other letters, addressed to different nobles, and
to some of the great towns, made a similar statement; and, after
reminding them of the oath they had taken to him as successor to the
crown, he promised to grant them various immunities when the sceptre
should come into his hands.[1491] With these papers was also found one
of most singular import. It contained a list of all those persons whom
he deemed friendly, or inimical to himself. At the head of the former
class stood the names of his step-mother, Isabella, and of his uncle Don
John of Austria,--both of them noticed in terms of the warmest
affection. On the catalogue of his enemies, "to be pursued to the
death," were the names of the king, his father, the prince and princess
of Eboli, Cardinal Espinosa, the duke of Alva, and others.[1492]--Such
is the strange account of the contents of the coffer given to his court
by the papal nuncio. These papers, we are told, were submitted to the
judges who conducted the process, and formed, doubtless, an important
part of the testimony against the prince. It may have been from one of
the parties concerned that the nuncio gathered his information. Yet no
member of that tribunal would have ventured to disclose its secrets
without authority from Philip; who may possibly have consented to the
publication of facts that would serve to vindicate his course. If these
facts are faithfully reported, they must be allowed to furnish some
evidence of a disordered mind in Carlos.

[Sidenote: HIS EXCESSES.]

The king, meanwhile, was scarcely less a prisoner than his son; for,
from the time of the prince's arrest, he had never left the palace, even
to visit his favorite residences of Aranjuez and the Prado; nor had he
passed a single day in the occupation, in which he took such delight, of
watching the rising glories of the Escorial. He seemed to be constantly
haunted by the apprehension of some outbreak among the people, or at
least among the partisans of Carlos, to effect his escape; and when he
heard any unusual noise in the palace, says his historian, he would go
to the window, to see if the tumult were not occasioned by an attempt
to release the prisoner.[1493] There was little cause for apprehension
in regard to a people so well disciplined to obedience as the Castilians
under Philip the Second. But it is an ominous circumstance for a
prisoner, that he should become the occasion of such apprehension.

Philip, however, was not induced by his fears to mitigate in any degree
the rigor of his son's confinement, which produced the effect to have
been expected on one of his fiery, ungovernable temper. At first he was
thrown into a state bordering on frenzy, and, it is said, more than once
tried to make away with himself. As he found that thus to beat against
the bars of his prison-house was only to add to his distresses, he
resigned himself in sullen silence to his fate,--the sullenness of
despair. In his indifference to all around him, he ceased to take an
interest in his own spiritual concerns. Far from using the religious
books in his possession, he would attend to no act of devotion, refusing
even to confess, or to admit his confessor into his presence.[1494]
These signs of fatal indifference, if not of positive defection from the
Faith, gave great alarm to Philip, who would not willingly see the soul
thus perish with the body.[1495] In this emergency he employed Suarez,
the prince's almoner, who once had some influence over his master, to
address him a letter of expostulation. The letter has been preserved,
and is too remarkable to be passed by in silence.

Suarez begins with reminding Carlos that his rash conduct had left him
without partisans or friends. The effect of his present course, instead
of mending his condition, could only serve to make it worse. "What will
the world say," continues the ecclesiastic, "when it shall learn that
you now refuse to confess; when, too, it shall discover other dreadful
things of which you have been guilty, some of which are of such a
nature, that, did they concern any other than your highness, _the Holy
Office would be led to inquire whether the author of them were in truth
a Christian_?[1496] It is in the bitterness and anguish of my heart that
I must declare to your highness, that you are not only in danger of
forfeiting your worldly estate, but, what is worse, your own soul." And
he concludes by imploring Carlos, as the only remedy, to return to his
obedience to God, and to the king, who is his representative on earth.

But the admonitions of the honest almoner had as little effect on the
unhappy youth as the prayers of his attendants. The mental excitement
under which he labored, combined with the want of air and exercise,
produced its natural effect on his health. Every day he became more and
more emaciated; while the fever which had so long preyed on his
constitution now burned in his veins with greater fury than ever. To
allay the intolerable heat, he resorted to such desperate expedients as
seemed to intimate, says the papal nuncio, that, if debarred from laying
violent hands on himself, he would accomplish the same end in a slower
way, but not less sure. He deluged the floor with water, not a little to
the inconvenience of the companions of his prison, and walked about for
hours, half naked, with bare feet, on the cold pavement.[1497] He caused
a warming-pan filled with ice and snow to be introduced several times in
a night into his bed, and let it remain there for hours together.[1498]
As if this were not enough, he would gulp down such draughts of
snow-water as distance any achievement on record in the annals of
hydropathy. He pursued the same mad course in respect to what he ate. He
would abstain from food an incredible number of days,[1499] and then,
indulging in proportion to his former abstinence, would devour a pastry
of four partridges, with all the paste, at a sitting, washing it down
with three gallons or more of iced water![1500]

No constitution could long withstand such violent assaults as these. The
constitution of Carlos gradually sank under them. His stomach,
debilitated by long inaction, refused to perform the extraordinary tasks
that were imposed on it. He was attacked by incessant vomiting;
dysentery set in; and his strength rapidly failed. The physician,
Olivares, who alone saw the patient, consulted with his brethren in the
apartments of Ruy Gomez.[1501] Their remedies failed to restore the
exhausted energies of nature; and it was soon evident that the days of
Charles were numbered.

[Sidenote: HIS LAST MOMENTS.]

To no one could such an announcement have given less concern than to
Carlos; for he had impatiently looked to death as to his release. From
this hour he seemed to discard all earthly troubles from his mind, as he
fixed his thoughts steadfastly on the future. At his own request his
confessor, Chavres and Suarez, his almoner, were summoned, and assisted
him with their spiritual consolations. The closing scenes are recorded
by the pen of the nuncio.

"Suddenly a wonderful change seemed to be wrought by divine grace in the
heart of the prince. Instead of vain and empty talk, his language became
that of a sensible man. He sent for his confessor, devoutly confessed,
and, as his illness was such that he could not receive the host, he
humbly adored it; showing throughout great contrition, and, though not
refusing the proffered remedies, manifesting such contempt for the
things of this world, and such a longing for heaven, that one would have
said, God had reserved for this hour the sum of all his grace."[1502]

He seemed to feel an assurance that he was to survive till the vigil of
St. James, the patron saint of his country. When told that this would be
four days later, he said, "So long will my misery endure."[1503] He
would willingly have seen his father once more before his death. But his
confessor, it is said, dissuaded the monarch, on the ground that Carlos
was now in so happy a frame of mind, that it were better not to disturb
it by drawing off his attention to worldly objects. Philip, however,
took the occasion, when Carlos lay asleep or insensible, to enter the
chamber; and, stealing softly behind the prince of Eboli and the
grand-prior, Antonio de Toledo, he stretched out his hand towards the
bed, and, making the sign of the cross, gave the parting benediction to
his dying son.[1504]

Nor was Carlos allowed the society of his amiable step-mother, the
queen, nor of his aunt Joanna, to sweeten by their kind attentions the
bitterness of death.[1505] It was his sad fate to die, as he had lived
throughout his confinement, under the cold gaze of his enemies. Yet he
died at peace with all; and some of the last words that he uttered were
to forgive his father for his imprisonment, and the ministers--naming
Ruy Gomez and Espinosa in particular--who advised him to it.[1506]

Carlos now grew rapidly more feeble, having scarce strength enough left
to listen to the exhortations of his confessor, and with low, indistinct
murmurings to adore the crucifix which he held constantly in his hand.
On the twenty-fourth of July, soon after midnight, he was told it was
the Vigil of St. James. Then suddenly rousing, with a gleam of joy on
his countenance, he intimated his desire for his confessor to place the
holy taper in his hand: and feebly beating his breast, as if to invoke
the mercy of Heaven on his transgressions, he fell back, and expired
without a groan.[1507]--"No Catholic," says Nobili, "ever made a more
Catholic end."[1508]

Such is the account given us of the last hours of this most unfortunate
prince, by the papal nuncio and the Tuscan minister, and repeated with
slight discrepancies by most of the Castilian writers of that and the
following age.[1509] It is a singular circumstance, that, although we
have such full reports, both of what preceded and what followed the
death of Carlos, from the French ambassador, the portion of his
correspondence, which embraces his death has been withdrawn, whether by
accident or design, from the archives.[1510] But probably no one without
the walls of the palace had access to better sources of information than
the two ministers first mentioned, especially the papal nuncio. Their
intelligence may well have been derived from some who had been about the
person of Carlos. If so, it could not have been communicated without the
approbation of Philip, who may have been willing that the world should
understand that his son had died true to the Faith.

A very different account of the end of Carlos is given by Llorente. And
as this writer, the secretary of the Inquisition, had access to very
important materials; and as his account, though somewhat prolix, is
altogether remarkable, I cannot pass it by in silence.

[Sidenote: LLORENTE'S ACCOUNT.]

According to Llorente, the process already noticed as having been
instituted against Carlos was brought to a close only a short time
before his death. No notice of it, during all this time, had been given
to the prisoner, and no counsel was employed in his behalf. By the ninth
of July the affair was sufficiently advanced for a "summary judgment."
It resulted from the evidence, that the accused was guilty of treason in
both the first and second degree,--as having endeavored to compass the
death of the king, his father, and as having conspired to usurp the
sovereignty of Flanders. The counsellor Muñatones, in his report, which
he laid before the king, while he stated that the penalty imposed by the
law on every other subject for these crimes was death, added, that his
majesty, by his sovereign authority, might decide that the heir apparent
was placed by his rank above the reach of ordinary laws. And it was
further in his power to mitigate or dispense with any penalty whatever,
when he considered it for the good of his subjects.--In this judgment
both the ministers, Ruy Gomez and Espinosa, declared their concurrence.

To this the king replied, that, though his feelings moved him to follow
the suggestions of his ministers, his conscience would not permit it. He
could not think that he should consult the good of his people by placing
over them a monarch so vicious in his disposition, and so fierce and
sanguinary in his temper, as Carlos. However agonizing it might be to
his feelings as a father, he must allow the law to take its course. Yet,
after all, he said, it might not be necessary to proceed to this
extremity. The prince's health was in so critical a state, that it was
only necessary to relax the precautions in regard to his diet, and his
excesses would soon conduct him to the tomb! One point only was
essential, that he should be so well advised of his situation that he
should be willing to confess, and make his peace with Heaven before he
died. This was the greatest proof of love which he could give to his son
and to the Spanish nation.

Ruy Gomez and Espinosa both of them inferred from this singular
ebullition of parental tenderness, that they could not further the real
intentions of the king better than by expediting as much as possible the
death of Carlos. Ruy Gomez accordingly communicated his views to
Olivares, the prince's physician. This he did in such ambiguous and
mysterious phrase as, while it intimated his meaning, might serve to
veil the enormity of the crime from the eyes of the party who was to
perpetrate it. No man was more competent to this delicate task than the
prince of Eboli, bred from his youth in courts, and trained to a life of
dissimulation. Olivares readily comprehended the drift of his
discourse,--that the thing required of him was to dispose of the
prisoner, in such a way that his death should appear natural, and that
the honor of the king should not be compromised. He raised no scruples,
but readily signified his willingness faithfully to execute the will of
his sovereign. Under these circumstances, on the twentieth of July, a
purgative dose was administered to the unsuspecting patient, who, as may
be imagined, rapidly grew worse. It was a consolation to his father,
that, when advised of his danger, Carlos consented to receive his
confessor. Thus, though the body perished, the soul was saved.[1511]

Such is the extraordinary account given us by Llorente, which, if true,
would at once settle the question in regard to the death of Carlos. But
Llorente, with a disingenuousness altogether unworthy of an historian in
a matter of so grave import, has given us no knowledge of the sources
whence his information was derived. He simply says, that they are
"certain secret memoirs of the time, full of curious anecdote, which,
though not possessing precisely the character of authenticity, are
nevertheless entitled to credit, as coming from persons employed in the
palace of the king!"[1512] Had the writer condescended to acquaint us
with the names, or some particulars of the characters, of his authors,
we might have been able to form some estimate of the value of their
testimony. His omission to do this may lead us to infer, that he had not
perfect confidence in it himself. At all events it compels us to trust
the matter entirely to his own discretion, a virtue which those familiar
with his inaccuracies in other matters will not be disposed to concede
to him in a very eminent degree.[1513]

His narrative, moreover, is in direct contradiction to the authorities I
have already noticed, especially to the two foreign ministers so often
quoted, who, with the advantages--not a few--that they possessed for
obtaining correct information, were indefatigable in collecting it. "I
say nothing," writes the Tuscan envoy, alluding, to the idle rumors of
the town, "of gossip unworthy to be listened to. It is a hard thing to
satisfy the populace. It is best to stick to the truth, without caring
for the opinion of those who talk wildly of improbable matters, which
have their origin in ignorance and malice."[1514]

Still, it cannot be denied, that suspicions of foul play to Carlos were
not only current abroad, but were entertained by persons of higher rank
than the populace at home,--where it could not be safe to utter them.
Among others, the celebrated Antonio Perez, one of the household of the
prince of Eboli, informs us, that, "as the king had found Carlos guilty,
he was condemned to death by casuists and inquisitors. But in order that
the execution of this sentence might not be brought too palpably before
the public, they mixed for four months together a slow poison in his
food."[1515]

This statement agrees, to a certain extent, with that of a noble
Venetian, Pietro Giustiniani, then in Castile, who assured the historian
De Thou, that "Philip having determined on the death of his son,
obtained a sentence to that effect from a lawful judge. But in order to
save the honor of the sovereign, the sentence was executed in secret,
and Carlos was made to swallow some poisoned broth, of which he died
some hours afterwards."[1516]

Some of the particulars mentioned by Antonio Perez may be thought to
receive confirmation from an account given by the French minister,
Fourquevaulx, in a letter dated about a month after the prince's arrest.
"The prince," he says, "becomes visibly thinner and more dried up; and
his eyes are sunk in his head. They give him sometimes strong soups and
capon broths, in which amber and other nourishing things are dissolved,
that he may not wholly lose his strength and fall into decrepitude.
These soups are prepared privately in the chamber of Ruy Gomez, through
which one passes into that of the prince."

[Sidenote: VARIOUS ACCOUNTS.]

It was not to be expected that a Castilian writer should have the
temerity to assert that the death of Carlos was brought about by
violence. Yet Cabrera, the best informed historian of the period, who,
in his boyhood, had frequent access to the house of Ruy Gomez, and even
to the royal palace, while he describes the excesses of Carlos as the
cause of his untimely end, makes some mysterious intimations, which,
without any forced construction, seem to point to the agency of others
in bringing about that event.[1517]

Strada, the best informed, on the whole, of the foreign writers of the
period, and who, as a foreigner, had not the same motives for silence as
a Spaniard, qualifies his account of the prince's death as having taken
place in the natural-way, by saying, "if indeed he did not perish by
violence."[1518]--The prince of Orange, in his bold denunciation of
Philip, does not hesitate to proclaim him the murderer of his son.[1519]
And that inquisitive gossip-monger, Brantôme, amidst the bitter jests
and epigrams which, he tells us, his countrymen levelled at Philip for
his part in this transaction, quotes the authority of a Spaniard of rank
for the assertion that, after Carlos had been condemned by his
father,--in opposition to the voice of his council,--the prince was
found dead in his chamber, smothered with a towel![1520] Indeed, the
various modes of death assigned to him are sufficient evidence of the
uncertainty as to any one of them.[1521] A writer of more recent date
does not scruple to assert, that the only liberty granted to Carlos was
that of selecting the manner of his death out of several kinds that were
proposed to him;[1522]--an incident which has since found a more
suitable place in one of the many dramas that have sprang from his
mysterious story.

In all this the historian must admit there is but little evidence of
positive value. The authors--with the exception of Antonio Perez, who
had his account, he tells us, from the prince of Eboli--are by no means
likely to have had access to sure sources of information; while their
statements are contradictory to one another, and stand in direct
opposition to those of the Tuscan minister and of the nuncio, the latter
of whom had, probably, better knowledge of what was passing in the
councils of the monarch, than any other of the diplomatic body. Even the
declaration of Antonio Perez, so important on many accounts, is to a
considerable degree neutralized by the fact, that he was the mortal
enemy of Philip, writing in exile, with a price set upon his head by the
man whose character he was assailing. It is the hard fate of a person so
situated, that even truth from his lips fails to carry with it
conviction.[1523]

[Sidenote: SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES.]

If we reject his explanation of the matter, we shall find ourselves
again thrown on the sea of conjecture, and may be led to account for the
rumors of violence on the part of Philip by the mystery in which the
whole of the proceedings was involved, and the popular notion of the
character of the monarch who directed them. The same suspicious
circumstances must have their influence on the historian of the present
day, as with insufficient, though more ample light than was enjoyed by
contemporaries, he painfully endeavors to grope his way through this
obscure passage in the life of Philip. Many reflections of ominous
import naturally press upon his mind. From the first hour of the
prince's confinement it was determined, as we have seen, that he was
never to be released from it. Yet the preparations for keeping him a
prisoner were on so extraordinary a scale, and imposed such a burden on
men of the highest rank in the kingdom, as seemed to argue that his
confinement was not to be long. It is a common saying,--as old as
Machiavelli,--that to a deposed prince the distance is not great from
the throne to the grave. Carlos, indeed, had never worn a crown. But
there seemed to be the same reasons as if he had, for abridging the term
of his imprisonment. All around the prince regarded him with distrust.
The king, his father, appeared to live, as we have seen, in greater
apprehension of him after his confinement, than before.[1524] "The
ministers, whom Carlos hated," says the nuncio, "knew well that it would
be their ruin, should he ever ascend the throne."[1525] Thus, while the
fears and the interests of all seemed to tend to his removal, we find
nothing in the character of Philip to counteract the tendency. For when
was he ever known to relax his grasp on the victim once within his
power, or to betray any feeling of compunction as to sweeping away an
obstacle from his path? One has only to call to mind the long
confinement, ending with the midnight execution, of Montigny, the open
assassination of the prince of Orange, the secret assassination of the
secretary Escovedo, the unrelenting persecution of Perez, his agent in
that murder, and his repeated attempts to despatch him also by the hand
of the bravo. These are passages in the history of Philip which yet
remain to be presented to the reader, and the knowledge of which is
necessary before we can penetrate into the depths of his dark and
unscrupulous character.

If it be thought that there is a wide difference between these deeds of
violence and the murder of a son, we must remember that, in affairs of
religion, Philip acted avowedly on the principle, that the end justifies
the means; that one of the crimes charged upon Carlos was defection from
the Faith; and that Philip had once replied to the piteous appeal of a
heretic whom they were dragging to the stake, "Were my son such a wretch
as thou art, I would myself carry the fagots to burn him!"[1526]

But in whatever light we are to regard the death of Carlos,--whether as
caused by violence, or by those insane excesses in which he was allowed
to plunge during his confinement,--in either event the responsibility,
to a great extent, must be allowed to rest on Philip, who, if he did not
directly employ the hand of the assassin to take the life of his son,
yet by his rigorous treatment drove that son to a state of desperation
that brought about the same fatal result.[1527]

While the prince lay in the agonies of death, scarcely an hour before he
breathed his last, a scene of a very different nature was passing in an
adjoining gallery of the palace. A quarrel arose there between two
courtiers,--one of them a young cavalier, Don Antonio de Leyva, the
other Don Diego de Mendoza, a nobleman who had formerly filled, with
great distinction, the post of ambassador at Rome. The dispute arose
respecting some _coplas_, of which Mendoza claimed to be the author.
Though at this time near sixty years old, the fiery temperament of youth
had not been cooled by age. Enraged at what he conceived an insult on
the part of his companion, he drew his dagger. The other as promptly
unsheathed his sword. Thrusts were exchanged between the parties; and
the noise of the fracas at length reached the ears of Philip himself.
Indignant at the outrage thus perpetrated within the walls of the
palace, and at such an hour, he ordered his guards instantly to arrest
the offenders. But the combatants, brought to their senses, had
succeeded in making their escape, and taken refuge in a neighboring
church. Philip was too much incensed to respect this asylum; and an
alcalde, by his command, entered the church at midnight, and dragged the
offenders from the sanctuary. Leyva was put in irons, and lodged in the
fortress of Madrid; while his rival was sent to the tower of Simancas.
"It is thought they will pay for this outrage with their lives," writes
the Tuscan minister, Nobili. "The king," he adds, "has even a mind to
cashier his guard for allowing them to escape." Philip, however,
confined the punishment of the nobles to banishment from court; and the
old courtier, Mendoza, profited by his exile to give to the world those
remarkable compositions, both in history and romance, that form an epoch
in the national literature.[1528]

A few days before his death, Carlos is said to have made a will, in
which, after imploring his father's pardon and blessing, he commended
his servants to his care, gave away a few jewels to two or three
friends, and disposed of the rest of his property in behalf of sundry
churches and monasteries.[1529] Agreeably to his wish, his body was
wrapped in a Franciscan robe, and was soon afterward laid in a coffin
covered with black velvet and rich brocade. At seven o'clock, that same
evening, the remains of Carlos were borne from the chamber where he
died, to their place of interment.[1530]

The coffin was supported on the shoulders of the prince of Eboli, the
dukes of Infantado and Bio Seco, and other principal grandees. In the
court-yard of the palace was a large gathering of the members of the
religious fraternities, dignitaries of the church, foreign ambassadors,
nobles and cavaliers about the court, and officers of the royal
household. There were there also the late attendants of Carlos,--to some
of whom he had borne little love,--who, after watching him through his
captivity, were now come to conduct him to his final resting-place.
Before moving, some wrangling took place among the parties on the
question of precedence. Such a spirit might well have been rebuked by
the solemn character of the business they were engaged in, which might
have reminded them, that in the grave, at least, there are no
distinctions. But the perilous question was happily settled by Philip
himself, who, from an open window of the palace, looked down on the
scene, and, with his usual composure, gave directions for forming the
procession.[1531]

[Sidenote: HIS OBSEQUIES.]

The king did not accompany it. Slowly it defiled through the crowded
streets, where the people gave audible utterance to their grief, as they
gazed on the funeral pomp, and their eyes fell on the bier of the
prince, who, they had fondly hoped, would one day sway the sceptre of
Castile; and whose errors, great as they were, were all forgotten in his
unparalleled misfortunes.[1532]

The procession moved forward to the convent of San Domingo Real, where
Carlos had desired that his ashes might be laid. The burial service was
there performed, with great solemnity, in presence of the vast
multitude. But whether it was that Philip distrusted the prudence of the
preachers, or feared some audacious criticism on his conduct, no
discourse was allowed to be delivered from the pulpit. For nine days
religious services were performed in honor of the deceased; and the
office for the dead continued to be read, morning and evening, before an
audience among whom were the great nobles and the officers of state,
clad in full mourning. The queen and the princess Joanna might be seen,
on these occasions, mingling their tears with the few who cherished the
memory of Carlos. A niche was excavated in the wall of the church,
within the choir, in which the prince's remains were deposited. But they
did not rest there long. In 1573, they were removed, by Philip's orders,
to the Escorial; and in its gloomy chambers they were left to mingle
with the kindred dust of the royal line of Austria.[1533]

Philip wrote to Zuñiga, his ambassador in Rome, to intimate his wish
that no funeral honors should be paid there to the memory of Carlos,
that no mourning should be worn, and that his holiness would not feel
under the necessity of sending him letters of condolence.[1534] Zuñiga
did his best. But he could not prevent the obsequies from being
celebrated with the lugubrious pomp suited to the rank of the departed.
A catafalque was raised in the church of Saint James; the services were
performed in presence of the ambassador and his attendants, who were
dressed in the deepest black; and twenty-one cardinals, one of whom was
Granvelle, assisted at the solemn ceremonies.[1535] But no funeral
panegyric was pronounced, and no monumental inscription recorded the
imaginary virtues of the deceased.[1536]

Soon after the prince's death, Philip retired to the monastery of St.
Jerome, in whose cloistered recesses he remained some time longer
secreted from the eyes of his subjects. "He feels his loss like a
father," writes the papal nuncio, "but he bears it with the patience of
a Christian."[1537] He caused despatches to be sent to foreign courts,
to acquaint them with his late bereavement. In his letter to the duke
of Alva, he indulges in a fuller expression of his personal feelings.
"You may conceive," he says, "in what pain and heaviness I find myself,
now that it has pleased God to take my dear son, the prince, to himself.
He died in a Christian manner, after having, three days before, received
the sacrament, and exhibited repentance and contrition,--all which
serves to console me under this affliction. For I hope that God has
called him to himself, that he may be with him evermore; and that he
will grant me his grace, that I may endure this calamity with a
Christian heart and patience."[1538]

Thus, in the morning of life, at little more than twenty-three years of
age, perished Carlos, prince of Asturias. No one of his time came into
the world under so brilliant auspices; for he was heir to the noblest
empire in Christendom; and the Spaniards, as they discerned in his
childhood some of the germs of future greatness in his character, looked
confidently forward to the day when he should rival the glory of his
grandfather, Charles the Fifth. But he was born under an evil star,
which counteracted all the gifts of fortune, and turned them into a
curse. His naturally wild and headstrong temper was exasperated by
disease; and, when encountered by the distrust and alienation of him who
had the control of his destiny, was exalted into a state of frenzy, that
furnishes the best apology for his extravagances, and vindicates the
necessity of some measures, on the part of his father, to restrain them.
Yet can those who reject the imputation of murder acquit that father of
inexorable rigor towards his child in the measures which he employed, or
of the dreadful responsibility which attaches to the consequences of
them?




CHAPTER VIII.

DEATH OF ISABELLA.

Queen Isabella.--Her Relations with Carlos.--Her Illness and Death.--Her
Character.

1568.


Three months had not elapsed after the young and beautiful queen of
Philip the Second had wept over the fate of her unfortunate step-son,
when she was herself called upon to follow him to the tomb. The
occurrence of these sad events so near together, and the relations of
the parties, who had once been designed for each other, suggested the
idea that a criminal passion subsisted between them, and that, after her
lover's death, Isabella was herself sacrificed to the jealousy of a
vindictive husband.

[Sidenote: HER RELATIONS WITH CARLOS.]

One will in vain look for this tale of horror in the native historians
of Castile. Nor does any historian of that day, native or foreign, whom
I have consulted, in noticing the rumors of the time, cast a reproach on
the fair fame of Isabella; though more than one must be allowed to
intimate the existence of the prince's passion for his
step-mother.[1539] Brantôme tells us that, when Carlos first saw the
queen, "he was so captivated by her charms, that he conceived from that
time, a mortal spite against his father, whom he often reproached for
the great wrong he had done him, in ravishing from him this fair prize."
"And this," adds the writer, "was said in part to have been the cause of
the prince's death; for he could not help loving the queen at the bottom
of his soul, as well as honoring and reverencing one who was so truly
amiable and deserving of love."[1540] He afterwards gives us to
understand that many rumors were afloat in regard to the manner of the
queen's death; and tells a story, not very probable, of a Jesuit, who
was banished to the farthest Indies, for denouncing, in his pulpit, the
wickedness of those who could destroy so innocent a creature.[1541]

A graver authority, the prince of Orange, in his public vindication of
his own conduct, openly charges Philip with the murder of both his son
and his wife. It is to be noticed, however, that he nowhere intimates
that either of the parties was in love with the other; and he refers the
queen's death to Philip's desire to open the way to a marriage with the
Princess Anne of Austria.[1542] Yet these two authorities are the only
ones of that day, so far as I am aware, who have given countenance to
these startling rumors. Both were foreigners, far removed from the scene
of action; one of them a light, garrulous Frenchman, whose amusing
pages, teeming with the idle gossip of the court, are often little
better than a _Chronique Scandaleuse_; the other, the mortal enemy of
Philip, whose character--as the best means of defending his own--he was
assailing with the darkest imputations.

No authority, however, beyond that of vulgar rumor, was required by the
unscrupulous writers of a later time, who discerned the capabilities of
a story like that of Carlos and Isabella, in the situations of romantic
interest which it would open to the reader. Improving on this hint, they
have filled in the outlines of the picture with the touches of their own
fancy; until the interest thus given to this tale of love and woe has
made it as widely known as any of the classic myths of early Grecian
history.[1543]

Fortunately, we have the power, in this case, of establishing the truth
from unsuspicious evidence,--that of Isabella's own countrymen, whose
residence at the court of Madrid furnished them with ample means of
personal observation. Isabella's mother, the famous Catherine de
Medicis, associated with so much that is terrible in our imaginations,
had at least the merit of watching over her daughter's interests with
the most affectionate solicitude. This did not diminish when, at the age
of fifteen, Elizabeth of France left her own land and ascended the
throne of Spain. Catherine kept up a constant correspondence with her
daughter, sometimes sending her instructions as to her conduct, at other
times, medical prescriptions in regard to her health. She was careful
also to obtain information respecting Isabella's mode of life from the
French ambassadors at the court of Castile; and we may be quite sure
that these loyal subjects would have been quick to report any injurious
treatment of the queen by her husband.

A candid perusal of their despatches dispels all mystery,--or rather,
proves there never was any cause for mystery. The sallow, sickly boy of
fourteen--for Carlos was no older at the time of Isabella's
marriage--was possessed of too few personal attractions to make it
probable that he could have touched the heart of his beautiful
step-mother, had she been lightly disposed. But her intercourse with him
from the first seems to have been such as naturally arose from the
relations of the parties, and from the kindness of her disposition,
which led her to feel a sympathy for the personal infirmities and
misfortunes of Carlos. Far from attempting to disguise her feelings in
this matter, she displayed them openly in her correspondence with her
mother, and before her husband and the world.

Soon after Isabella's arrival at Madrid, we find a letter from the
bishop of Limoges to Charles the Ninth, her brother, informing him that
"his sister, on entering the palace of Madrid, gave the prince so
gracious and affectionate a reception, that it afforded singular
contentment to the king, and yet more to Carlos, as appeared by his
frequent visits to the queen,--as frequent as the etiquette of a court,
much stiffer than that of Paris, would permit."[1544] Again, writing in
the following month, the bishop speaks of the queen as endeavoring to
amuse Carlos, when he came to see her in the evening, with such innocent
games and pastimes as might cheer the spirits of the young prince, who
seemed to be wasting away under his malady.[1545]

[Sidenote: HER RELATIONS WITH CARLOS.]

The next year we have a letter to Catherine de Medicis from one of
Isabella's train, who had accompanied her from France. After speaking of
her mistress as sometimes supping in the garden with the Princess
Joanna, she says they were often joined there by "the prince, who loves
the queen singularly well, and, as I suspect, would have no objection to
be more nearly related to her."[1546]--There is nothing improbable in
the supposition that Carlos, grateful for kindness to which he had not
been too much accustomed, should, as he grew older, have yielded to the
influence of a princess whose sweet disposition and engaging manners
seem to have won the hearts of all who approached her; or that feelings
of resentment should have mingled with his regret, as he thought of the
hard fate which had placed a barrier between them. It is impossible,
too, when we consider the prince's impetuous temper, that the French
historian, De Thou, may have had good authority for asserting that
Carlos, "after long conversation in the queen's apartment, was often
heard, as he came out, to complain loudly of his father's having robbed
him of her."[1547] But it could have been no vulgar passion that he felt
for Isabella, and certainly it received no encouragement from her, if,
as Brantôme tells us, "insolent and audacious as he was in his
intercourse with all other women, he never came into the presence of his
step-mother without such a feeling of reverence as seemed to change his
very nature."

Nor is there the least evidence that the admiration excited by the
queen, whether in Carlos or in the courtiers, gave any uneasiness to
Philip, who seems to have reposed entire confidence in her discretion.
And while we find Isabella speaking of Philip to her mother as "so good
a husband, and rendering her so happy by his attentions, that it made
the dullest spot in the world agreeable to her,"[1548] we meet with a
letter from the French minister, Guibert, saying that "the king goes on
loving the queen more and more, and that her influence has increased
threefold within the last few months."[1549] A few years later, in 1565,
St. Sulpice, then ambassador in Madrid, writes to the queen-mother in
emphatic terms of the affectionate intercourse that subsisted between
Philip and his consort. "I can assure you, madam," he says, "that the
queen, your daughter, lives in the greatest content in the world, by
reason of the perfect friendship which ever draws her more closely to
her husband. He shows her the most unreserved confidence, and is so
cordial in his treatment of her as to leave nothing to be
desired."[1550] The writer quotes a declaration made to him by Philip,
that "the loss of his consort would be a heavier misfortune than had
ever yet befallen him."[1551]

Nor was this an empty profession in the king, as he evinced by his
indulgence of Isabella's tastes,--even those national tastes which were
not always in accordance with the more rigid rules of Castilian
etiquette. To show the freedom with which she lived, I may perhaps be
excused for touching on a few particulars, already noticed in a previous
chapter. On her coming into the country, she was greeted with balls and
other festivities, to which she had been accustomed in the gay capital
of France. Her domestic establishment was on a scale of magnificence
suited to her station; and the old courtier, Brantôme, dwells with
delight on the splendid profusion of her wardrobe, and the costly jewels
with which it was adorned. When she went abroad, she dispensed with her
veil, after the fashion of her own country, though so much at variance
with the habits of the Spanish ladies. Yet it made her a greater
favorite with the people, who crowded around her wherever she appeared,
eager to catch a glimpse of her beautiful features. She brought into the
country a troop of French ladies and waiting-women, some of whom
remained, and married in Castile. Such as returned home, she provided
with liberal dowries. To persons of her own nation she was ever
accessible,--receiving the humblest as well as the highest, says her
biographer, with her wonted benignity. With them she conversed in her
native tongue. But, in the course of three months, her ready wit had so
far mastered the Castilian, that she could make herself understood in
that language, and in a short time spoke it with elegance, though with a
slight foreign accent, not unpleasing. Born and bred among a people so
different from that with whom her lot was now cast, Isabella seemed to
unite in her own person the good qualities of each. The easy vivacity of
the French character was so happily tempered by the gravity of the
Spanish, as to give an inexpressible charm to her manners.[1552] Thus
richly endowed with the best gifts of nature and of fortune, it is no
wonder that Elizabeth of France should have been the delight of the
courtly circle over which she presided, and of which she was the
greatest ornament.

Her gentle nature must have been much disturbed, by witnessing the wild,
capricious temper of Carlos, and the daily increasing estrangement of
his father. Yet she did not despair of reclaiming him. At least, we may
infer so from the eagerness with which she seconded her mother in
pressing the union of her sister, Catherine de Medicis' younger
daughter, with the prince. "My sister is of so excellent a disposition,"
the queen said to Ruy Gomez, "that no princess in Christendom would be
more apt to moderate and accommodate herself to my step-son's humors, or
be better suited to the father, as well as the son, in their relations
with each other."[1553] But although the minister readily adopted the
queen's views in the matter, they met with little encouragement from
Philip, who, at that time, seemed more inclined to a connection with the
house of Austria.

[Sidenote: HER ILLNESS.]

In the preceding chapter, we have seen the pain occasioned to Isabella
by the arrest of Carlos. Although so far a gainer by it as it opened to
her own posterity the way to the succession, she wept, as the ambassador
Fourquevaulx tells us, for two days, over the misfortune of her
step-son, until forbidden by Philip to weep any longer.[1554] During his
confinement, as we have seen, she was not permitted to visit him,--not
even to soften the bitterness of his dying hour. And how much her
presence would have soothed him, at such a time, may be inferred from
the simple memorandum found among his papers, in which he assigns her
the first place among his friends, as having been ever the most loving
to him.[1555] The same affection, however we may define it, which he had
borne her from the first, he retained to the last hour of his life. All
that was now granted to Isabella was the sad consolation of joining with
the Princess Joanna, and the few friends who still cherished the memory
of Carlos, in celebrating his funeral obsequies.

Not long after that event, it was announced that the queen was pregnant;
and the nation fondly hoped that it would find a compensation for the
loss of its rightful prince, in the birth of a new heir to the throne.
But this hope was destined soon to be destroyed. Owing to some
mismanagement on the part of the physicians, who, at an early period,
misunderstood the queen's situation, the medicines they gave her had an
injurious effect on her constitution.[1556] It is certain that Isabella
placed little confidence in the Spanish doctors, or in their
prescriptions.[1557] There may have been good ground for her distrust;
for their vigorous applications savor not a little of the Sangrado
school of practice, directed quite as much against the constitution of
the patient as against his disease. About the middle of September a
fever set in, which, though not violent, was so obstinate as to defy all
the efforts of the physicians to reduce it. More alarming symptoms soon
followed. The queen frequently swooned. Her extremities became torpid.
Medicines were of no avail, for her stomach refused to retain
them.[1558] Processions were everywhere made to the churches, and young
and old joined in prayers for her recovery. But these prayers were not
heard. The strength of Isabella continued rapidly to decline, and by the
last of September her life was despaired of. The physicians declared
that science could go no further, and that the queen's only hope must be
in Heaven.[1559]--In Heaven she had always trusted; nor was she so
wedded to the pomps and glories of the world, that she could not now
willingly resign them.

As her ladies, many of them her countrywomen, stood weeping around her
bed, she endeavored to console them under their affliction, kindly
expressing the interest she took in their future welfare, and her regret
that she had not made them a bitter mistress;--"as if," says a
contemporary, who has left a minute record of her last moments, "she had
not been always more of a mother than a mistress to them all!"[1560]

On the evening of the second of October, as Isabella felt herself
drawing near her end, she made her will. She then confessed, partook of
the sacrament, and, at her desire, extreme unction was administered to
her. Cardinal Espinosa and the king's confessor, the bishop of Cuenca,
who were present, while they offered her spiritual counsel and
consolation, were greatly edified by her deportment; and, giving her
their parting benediction, they went away deeply affected by the spirit
of Christian resignation which she displayed.[1561]

Before daybreak, on the following morning, she had her last interview
with Philip. We have the account of it from Fourquevaulx. "The queen
spoke to her husband very naturally," says the ambassador, "and like a
Christian. She took leave of him for ever, and never did princess show
more goodness and piety. She commended to him her two daughters, and her
principal attendants, beseeching him to live in amity with the king of
France, her brother, and to maintain peace,--with other discourse, which
could not fail to touch the heart of _a good husband, which the king was
to her_. He showed, in his replies, the same composure as she did, and
promised to obey all her requests, but added, he did not think her end
so near. He then withdrew,--as I was told,--in great anguish, to his own
chamber."[1562] Philip sent a fragment of the true cross, to comfort his
wife in her last moments. It was the most precious of his relics, and
was richly studded with pearls and diamonds.[1563] Isabella fervently
kissed the sacred relic, and held it, with the crucifix, in her hand,
while she yet lived.

Not long after the interview with her husband, the ambassador was
summoned to her bedside. He was the representative of her native land,
and of the dear friends there she was never more to see. "She knew me,"
writes Fourquevaulx, "and said, 'You see me in the act of quitting this
vain world, to pass to a more pleasant kingdom; there, as I hope, to be
for ever with my God. Tell my mother, the queen, and the king, my
brother, to bear my death with patience, and to comfort themselves with
the reflection, that no happiness on earth has ever made me so content,
as the prospect now does of approaching my Creator. I shall soon be in a
better situation to do them service, and to implore God to take them and
my brothers under his holy protection. Beseech them, in my name, to
watch over their kingdom, that an end may be put to the heresies which
have spread there. And I will pray Heaven, in its mercy, to grant that
they may take my death with patience, and hold me for happy.'"[1564]

The ambassador said a few words of comfort, endeavoring to give her, if
possible, some hopes of life. But she answered, "You will soon know how
near I am to my end. God has given me grace to despise the world and its
grandeur, and to fix all my hopes on him and Jesus Christ. Never did a
thought occasion me less anxiety than that of death."

[Sidenote: HER OBSEQUIES.]

"She then listened to the exhortations of her confessor, remaining in
full possession of her consciousness, till a few minutes before her
death. A slight restlessness seemed to come over her, which soon
subsided, and she expired so tranquilly that it was impossible to fix
the moment when she gave up the ghost. Yet she opened her eyes once,
bright and glancing, and it seemed as if she would address me some
further commands,--at least, her looks were fixed on me."[1565]

Not long before Isabella's death, she was delivered of a daughter. Its
birth was premature, and it lived only to be baptized. The infant was
laid in the same coffin with its mother; and, that very evening, their
remains were borne in solemn procession to the royal chapel.[1566] The
tolling of the bells in the churches and monasteries throughout the city
announced the sad tidings to the people, who filled the air with their
cries, making everywhere the most passionate demonstrations of
grief;[1567] for the queen, says Brantôme, "was regarded by them not
merely with feelings of reverence, but of idolatry."[1568]

In the chapel were gathered together whatever was illustrious in the
capital,--the high ecclesiastics, and the different religious bodies,
the grandees and cavaliers of the court, and the queen's ladies of
honor. At the head of these stood the duchess of Alva, the mistress of
the robes, with the duchess of Feria--an English lady, married to the
Spanish ambassador at the court of Mary Tudor--and the princess of
Eboli, a name noted in history. The coffin of the deceased queen,
covered with its gorgeous pall of brocade, was placed on a scaffold
shrouded in black, and surrounded with numerous silver sconces bearing
wax tapers, that shed a gloomy lustre over the scene.[1569] The services
were performed amidst the deepest stillness of the audience, unless when
broken by the wailings of the women, which mingled in sad harmony with
the chant of the priests and the sweet and solemn music that accompanied
the office for the dead.[1570]

Early on the following morning the coffin was opened in presence of the
duchess of Alva and the weeping ladies of her train, who gazed for the
last time on features still beautiful in death.[1571] The duchess then
filled the coffin with flowers and sweet-scented herbs; and the remains
of mother and child were transported by the same sorrowing company to
the convent of the barefooted Carmelites. Here they reposed till the
year 1573, when they were borne, with the remains of Carlos, to the
stately mausoleum of the Escorial; and the populace, as they gazed on
the funeral train, invoked the name of Isabella as that of a
saint.[1572]

In the course of the winter, Cardinal Guise arrived from France with
letters of condolence from Charles the Ninth to his royal
brother-in-law. The instructions to the cardinal do not infer any
distrust, on the part of the French monarch, as to the manner of his
sister's death. The more suspicious temper of the queen-mother,
Catherine de Medicis, is seen in her directions to Fourquevaulx to find
out what was said on the subject of her daughter's death, and to report
it to her.[1573]--It does not seem that the ambassador gathered any
information of consequence, to add to his former details.

Philip himself may have had in his mind the possible existence of such
suspicions, when he told the cardinal that "his best consolation for his
loss was derived from his reflection on the simple and excellent life of
the queen. All her attendants, her ladies and maids, knew how well he
had treated her, as was sufficiently proved by the extraordinary sorrow
which he felt at her death. Hereupon," continues the cardinal, "he broke
forth into a panegyric on her virtues, and said, were he to choose
again, he could wish nothing better than to find just such
another."[1574]--It was not long before Philip made the attempt. In
eighteen months from the date of his conversation with the cardinal, the
thrice-widowed husband led to the altar his fourth and last wife, Anne
of Austria,--like her predecessor, as we have seen, the destined bride
of his son. The facility with which her imperial parents trusted the
young princess to the protection of Philip maybe thought to intimate
pretty clearly that they, at least, had no misgivings as to the king's
treatment of his former wife.

Isabella, at her decease, was but twenty-three years of age, eight of
which she had been seated on the throne of Spain. She left two children,
both daughters;--Catherine, afterwards married to the duke of Savoy; and
Clara Eugenia, who became with her husband, the Archduke Albert, joint
ruler of the Netherlands, and who seems to have enjoyed a greater share
of both the love and the confidence of Philip, than he ever vouchsafed
to any other being.

Such is the story of Queen Isabella, stripped of the coloring of
romance, for which, in truth, it has been quite as much indebted to the
pen of the historian as to that of the poet. From the whole account, it
appears, that, if Carlos, at any time, indulged a criminal passion for
his step-mother, such a passion was never requited or encouraged by
Isabella, who seems to have felt for him only the sentiments that were
justified by their connection, and by the appeal which his misfortunes
made to her sympathy. Notwithstanding some feelings of resentment, not
unnatural, when, in the words of Brantôme, "he had been defrauded of so
fair a prize," there is yet little evidence that the prince's passion
for her rose higher than the sentiments of love and gratitude which her
kindness might well have awakened in an affectionate nature.[1575] And
that such, with all his errors, was the nature Carlos, is shown, among
other examples, by his steady attachment to Don John of Austria, his
uncle, and by his devotion to his early preceptor, the bishop of Osma.

[Sidenote: HER CHARACTER.]

There is no proof that Philip was, at any time, displeased with the
conduct of his queen, or that he regarded his son in the light of a
rival. Least of all is there anything in the history of the time to show
that he sacrificed his wife to his jealousy.[1576] The contrary is well
established by those of her own countrymen who had free access to her
during her lifetime,--some of them in the hour of her death,--whose
correspondence with her family would not have failed to intimate their
suspicions, had there been anything to suspect.

Well would it be for the memory of Philip the Second, could the
historian find no heavier sin to lay to his charge than his treatment of
Isabella. From first to last, he seems to have regarded her with the
indulgence of an affectionate husband. Whether she ever obtained such an
ascendancy over his close and cautious nature as to be allowed to share
in his confidence and his counsels, may well be doubted. Her temper
would seem to have been too gentle, too devoid of worldly ambition, to
prompt her to meddle with affairs for which she was fitted neither by
nature nor education. Yet Brantôme assures us, that she exercised a most
salutary influence over her lord in his relations with France, and that
the value of this influence was appreciated in later times, when the
growing misunderstandings between the two courts were left to rankle,
without any friendly hand to heal them.[1577] "Her death," he continues,
"was as bitter to her own nation as it was to the Spaniards; and if the
latter called her 'the Queen of Peace and Goodness,' the former with no
less reason styled her 'the Olive-branch.'"[1578] "But she has passed
away," he exclaims, "in the sweet and pleasant April of her age,--when
her beauty was such that it seemed as if it might almost defy the
assaults of time."[1579]

The queen occupies an important place in that rich gallery of portraits
in which Brantôme has endeavored to perpetuate the features of his
contemporaries. In no one of them has he traced the lineaments with a
more tender and delicate hand. Even the breath of scandal has had no
power to dim the purity of their expression. Of all that illustrious
company which the artist has brought in review before the eyes of
posterity, there is no one to whom he has so truly rendered the homage
of the heart, as to Elizabeth of France.

But from these scenes of domestic sorrow, it is time that we should turn
to others of a more stirring and adventurous character.

END OF VOLS. I. AND II.

LONDON C. WHITING, BEAUFORT-HOUSE, DUKE-STREET, LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is gratifying to learn that before long such a history may be
expected,--if, indeed, it should not appear before the publication of
this work,--from the pen of our accomplished countryman, Mr. J. Lothrop
Motley, who, during the last few years, for the better prosecution of
his labors, has established his residence in the neighborhood of the
scenes of his narrative. No one acquainted with the fine powers of mind
possessed by this scholar, and the earnestness with which he has devoted
himself to his task, can doubt that he will do full justice to his
important, but difficult subject.

[2] "Post annum ætatis quinquagesimum, prementitras morbis, tantopere
negotiorum odium cepit, ut diutius interdum nec se adiri aut conveniri
præterquam ab intimis pateretur, nec libellis subscribere animum
induceret, _non sine suspicione mentis imminutæ_; itaque constat novem
mensibus nulli nec libello nec diplomati subscripsisse, quod cum magno
incommodo reipublicæ populariumque dispendio fiebat, cum a tot
nationibus, et quibusdam longissime jus inde poteretur, et certe summa
negotia ad ipsum fere rejicerentur." (Sepulvedæ Opera, (Matriti, 1780,)
vol. II. p. 539.) The author, who was in the court at the time, had
frequent access to the royal presence, and speaks, therefore, from
personal observation.

[3] A minute account of this imposing ceremony is to be found in a MS.
in the Archives of Simancas, now published in the Coleccion de
Documentos Inéditos para la Historia de España, (Madrid, 1845,) tom.
VII. p. 534 et seq.

An official report of these proceedings, prepared by order of the
government, and preserved at Brussels, in the Archives du Royaume, has
been published by M. Gachard in his valuable collection, Analectes
Belgiques, (Paris, 1830,) pp. 75-81.

[4] A copy of the original deed of abdication was preserved among the
papers of Cardinal Granvelle, at Besançon, and is incorporated in the
valuable collection of documents published by order of the French
government under the direction of the learned Weiss, Papiers d'Etat du
Cardinal de Granvelle, d'après les Manuscrits de la Bibliothèque de
Besançon, (Paris, 1843,) tom. IV. p. 486.

[5] It is strange that the precise date of an event of such notoriety as
the abdication of Charles the Fifth should be a matter of discrepancy
among historians. Most writers of the time assign the date mentioned in
the text, confirmed moreover by the Simancas MS. above cited, the author
of which enters into the details of the ceremony with the minuteness of
an eye-witness.

[6] "Erat Carolus statura mediocri, sed brachiis et cruribus crassis
compactisque, et roboris singularis, ceteris membris proportione
magnoque commensu respondentibus, colore albus, crine barbaque ad flavum
inclinante; facie liberali, nisi quod mentum prominens et parum
cohærentia labra nonnihil eam deturpabant." Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p.
527.

[7] The speech is given, with sufficient conformity, by two of the
persons who heard it;--a Flemish writer, whose MS., preserved in the
Archives du Royaume, has lately been published by Gachard, in the
Analectes Belgiques (p. 87); and Sir John Mason, the British minister at
the court of Charles, who describes the whole ceremony in a
communication to his government, (The Order of the Cession of the Low
Countries to the King's Majesty, MS.) The historian Sandoval also gives
a full report of the speech, on the authority of one who heard it.
Historia de la Vida y Hechos del Emperador Carlos V., (Amberes, 1681,)
tom. II. p. 599.

[8] Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II. pp. 597-599.--Leti, Vita del
Catolico Rè Filippo II., (Coligni, 1679,) tom. I. pp. 240-242.--Vera y
Figueroa, Epitome de la Vida y Hechos del invicto Emperador Carlos
Quinto, (Madrid, 1649,) pp. 119, 120.

Sir John Mason thus describes the affecting scene:--"And here he broke
into a weeping, whereunto, besides the dolefulness of the matter, I
think he was much provoked by seeing the whole company to do the like
before, being, in mine opinion, not one man in the whole assembly,
stranger or other, that during the time of a good piece of his oration
poured not out abundantly tears, some more, some less. And yet he prayed
them to bear with his imperfection, proceeding of sickly age, and of the
mentioning of so tender a matter as the departing from such a sort of
dear and most loving subjects."--The Order of the Cession of the Low
Countries to the King's Majesty, MS.

[9] The date of this renunciation is also a subject of disagreement
among contemporary historians, although it would seem to be settled by
the date of the instrument itself, which is published by Sandoval, in
his Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II. pp. 603-606.

[10] Lanz, Correspondenz des Kaisers Karl V., B. III. s. 708.

Five years before this period Charles had endeavored to persuade
Ferdinand to relinquish to Philip the pretensions which, as king of the
Romans, he had to the empire. This negotiation failed, as might have
been expected. Ferdinand was not weary of the world; and Charles could
offer no bribe large enough to buy off an empire. See the account given
by Marillac, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, (London,
1835, Eng. trans.,) vol. I. p. 28 et seq.

[11] "Favor sin duda del Cielo," says Sandoval, who gives quite a
miraculous air to the event, by adding that the emperor's vessel
encountered the brunt of the storm, and foundered in port. (Hist. de
Carlos V., tom. II. p. 607.) But this and some other particulars told by
the historian of Charles's landing, unconfirmed as they are by a single
eye-witness, may be reckoned among the myths of the voyage.

[12] The last of Philip's letters, dated September 8, is given entire in
the MS. of Don Tomas Gonzales, (Retiro, Estancia, y Muerte del Emperador
Carlos Quinto en el Monasterio de Yuste,) which forms the basis of
Mignet's interesting account of Charles the Fifth.

[13] Among other disappointments was that of not receiving four thousand
ducats which Joanna had ordered to be placed at the emperor's
disposition on his landing. This appears from a letter of the emperor's
secretary, Gaztelu, to Vazquez de Molina, October 6, 1556. "El emperador
tovo por cierto que llegado aqui, hallaria los cuatro mil ducados que el
rey le dijo habia mandado proveer, y visto que no se ha hecho, me ha
mandado lo escribiese luego à Vuestra Merced, para que se haya, porque
son mucho menester." MS.

[14] Sandoval makes no allusion to the affair, which rests on the report
of Strada, (De Bello Belgico (Antverpiæ, 1640,) tom. I. p. 12,) and of
Cabrera,--the latter, as one of the royal household and the
historiographer of Castile, by far the best authority. In the narration
he does not spare his master. "En Jarendilla ameno lugar del Conde de
Oropesa, espero treinta dias treinta mil escudos con que pagar y
dispedir sus criados que llegaron con tarda provision y mano; terrible
tentacion para no dar todo su aver antes de la muerte." Filipe Segundo
Rey de España, (Madrid, 1619,) lib. II. cap. 11.

The letters from Jarandilla at this time show the embarrassments under
which the emperor labored from want of funds. His exchequer was so low,
indeed, that on one occasion he was obliged to borrow a hundred reals
for his ordinary expenses from his major-domo. "Los ultimos dos mil
ducados que trujo el criado de Hernando Ochoa se han acabo, porque
cuando llegáron, se debian ya la mitad, de manera que no tenemos un real
para el gasto ordinario, que para socorrer hoy he dado yo cien reales,
ni se sabe de donde haberlo." Carta de Luis Quixada à Juan Vazquez, ap.
Gachard, Retraite et Mort de Charles-Quint, (Bruxelles, 1554,) tom. I.
p. 76.

[15] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 1.--Vanderhammen, Don Felipe
el Prudente, (Madrid, 1625,) p. 1.--Breve Compendio de la Vida Privada
del Rey D. Felipe Segundo atribuido à Pedro Mateo Coronista mayor del
Reyno de Francia, MS.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 69 et seq.

"Andauano sussurando per le strade, cauando da questa proibitione di
solennità pronostici di cattivi augurii; gli vni diceuano, che questo
Prencipe doueua esser causa di grandi afflittione alla Chiesa; gli
altri; Che cominciando a nascere colle tenebre, non poteua portar che
ombra alla Spagna." Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 73.

[16] Ibid., tom. I. p. 74.--Noticia de los Ayos y Maestros de Felipe
Segundo y Carlos su Hijo, MS.

"Et passò i primi anni et la maggior parte dell'eta sua in quel regno,
onde per usanza del paese, et per la volantà della madre che era di
Portogallo fu allevato con quella riputatione et con quel rispetto che
parea convenirsi ad un figliuolo del maggior Imperatore che fosse mai
fra Christiani." Relatione di Spagna del Cavaliere Michele Soriano,
Ambasciatore al Re Filipo, MS.

[17] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap 1.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II.,
tom. I. p. 97--Noticia de los Ayos, MS.--Relatione di Michele Soriano,
MS.--Relatione di Federico Badoaro, MS.

Charles's letter, of which I have a manuscript copy, has been published
in the Seminario Erudito, (Madrid, 1778,) tom. XIV. p. 156 et seq.

[18] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap 1.

[19] Florez, Memorias de las Reynas Catholicas, (Madrid, 1770,) tom. II.
p. 869.

[20] Ibid., tom. II. p. 877.

[21] "Tomo la posta vestido en luto come viudo," says Sandoval, Hist. de
Carlos Quinto, tom. II. p. 285.

[22] The letter is given by Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 2.

[23] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 2.--Leti, Vita di Filippo
II., tom. I. p. 132.--Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos Quinto, tom. II. p. 299
et seq.--Breve Compendio, MS.--Charles's letter, in the Seminario
Erudito, tom. XIV. p. 156.

[24] Florez, Reynas Catolicas, tom. II. pp. 883-889.--Cabrera, Filipe
Segundo, lib. I. cap. 2.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p.
142.--Breve Compendio, MS.--Relazione Anonimo, MS.

For the particulars relating to the wedding, I am chiefly indebted to
Florez, who was as minute in his account of court pageants as any master
of ceremonies.

[25] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 2.--Leti, Vita di Filippo
II., tom. L pp. 166, 185 et seq.--Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p. 346.

[26] "Non rispose che in sensi ambigui circa al punto essenziale, ma
molto ampi ne'complimenti." Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I, p. 189.

[27] Estrella, El Felicissimo Viaje del Principe Don Phelipe desde
España à sus Tierras de la Baxa Alemania, (Anveres, 1552,) pp. 1-21,
32.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 190.--Breve Compendio. MS.

[28] "Sua altezza si trova hora in XXIII. anni, di complessione
delicatissima e di statura minore che mediocre, nella faccia simiglia
assai al Padre e nel mento." Relatione del Clarissimo Monsig. Marino
Cavallo tornato Ambasciatore del Imperatore Carlo Quinto l'anno 1551,
MS.

"Et benche sia picciola di persona, e però cosi ben fatto et con ogni
parte del corpo cosi ben proportionato et corrispondente al tutti, et
veste con tanta politezza et con tanto giudicio che non si può vedere
cosa piu perfetta." Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS.

[29] Marino Cavallo, the ambassador at the imperial court, who states
the facts mentioned in the text, expresses a reasonable doubt whether
Philip, with all his training, would ever equal his father: "Nelle cose
d'importanza, facendolo andare l'imperatore ogni giornio per due o tre
hore nella sua camera, parte in Consiglio et parte per ammaestrarlo da
solo a solo, dicesi che fin hora a fatto profitto assai, et da speranza
di proceder piu oltre, ma la grandezza di suo padre et l'esser nato
grande et non haver fin qui provato travaglio alcuno, non lo farà mai
comparirse à gran giunta eguale all'Imperatore." Relatione di Marino
Cavallo, MS.

[30] This is the work by Estrella already quoted, (El Felicissimo Viage
del Principe Don Phelipe,)--the best authority for this royal progress.
The work, which was never reprinted, has now become extremely rare.

[31] Take the following samples, the former being one of the
inscriptions at Arras, the latter, one over the gate of Dordrecht:--

"Clementia firmabitur thronus ejus." "Te duce libertas tranquilla pace
beabit."


[32] "Assi fueron a palacio siendo ya casi la media noche, quando se
vuieron apeado muy contentos de la fiesta y Vanquete que la villa les
hiziera." Estrella, Viage del Principe Phelipe, p. 73.

[33] "Ictum accepit in capite galeaque tam vehementem, ut vecors ac
dormienti similis parumper invectus ephippio delaberetur, et in caput
armis superiorem corporis partem gravius deprimentibus caderet. Itaque
semianimis pulvere spiritum intercludente jacuit, donec a suis
sublevatus est." Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p. 381.

[34] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 24.

Von Raumer's abstract of the MSS. in the Royal Library at Paris contains
some very curious particulars of the illustration of the reigns both of
Charles the Fifth and of Philip.

[35] "E S.M. di complessione molto delicata, et per questo vive sempre
con regola, usando per l'ordinario cibi di gran nodrimento, lasciando i
pesci, frutti et simili cose che generano cattivi humori; dorme molto,
fa però essercitio, et i suoi trattenimenti domestici sono tutti quieti;
et benche nell'essercitio habbi mostrato un poco di prontezza et di
vivacità, pero si vede che ha sforzato la natura, la quale inclina piu
alla quiete che all'essercitio, piu al reposo che al travaglio."
Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS.

[36] "Rarissime volte va fuora in Campagna, ha piacere di starsi in
Camera, co suoi favoriti, a ragionare di cose private; et se tall'hora
l'Imperatore lo manda in visita, si scusa per godere la solità quiete."
Relatione di Marino Cavallo, MS.

[37] "Pare che la natura l'habbia fatto atto con la familiarità e
domestichezza a gratificare a Flammenghi et Borgognoni, con l'ingegno et
prudentia a gl'Italiani, con la riputatione et severità alli Spagnuoli;
vedendo hora in suo figliulo altrimente sentono non picciolo dispiacere
di questo cambio." Ibid. MS.

[38] "Philippus ipse Hispaniæ desiderio magnopere æstuabat, nec aliud
quam Hispaniam loquebatur." Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p. 401.

[39] "Si fa giudicio, che quando egli succederà al governo delli stati
suoi debba servirsi in tutto et per delli ministri Spagnuoli, alla qual
natione è inclinato più di quello, che si convenga a prencipe, che
voglia dominare a diverse." Relatione di Marino Cavallo, MS.

[40] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 3.--Leti, Vita di Filippo
II., tom. I. pp. 195-198.--Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. pp.
399-401.--Marillac, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,
vol. I. p. 28 et seq.

[41] Marillac, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I.
p. 30.

[42] Ranke, Ottoman and Spanish Empires in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth
Centuries, (Eng. trans., London, 1843,) p. 31.

[43] "Da cosi fatta educatione ne segui quando S. M. usci la prima volta
da Spagna, et passò per Italia et per Germania in Fiandra, lasciò
impressione da per tutto che fosse d'animo severo et intrattabile; et
però fu poco grato a Italiani, ingratissimo a Fiamenghi et a Tedeschi
odioso." Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS.

[44] Marillac, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I.
p. 32.

See also the characteristic letter of Charles to his sister, the regent
of the Netherlands, (December 16, 1550,) full of angry expressions
against Ferdinand for his ingratitude and treachery. The scheme,
according to Charles's view of it, was calculated for the benefit of
both parties,--"_ce que convenoit pour establir noz maisons_." Lanz,
Correspondenz des Kaisers Karl V., (Leipzig, 1846,) B. III. p. 18.

[45] A copy of the instrument containing this agreement, dated March 9,
1551, is preserved in the archives of Belgium. See Mignet,
Charles-Quint, p. 42, note.

[46] Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 199.--Mémorial et Recueil des
Voyages du Roi des Espagnes, escript par le Controleur de Sa Majesté,
MS.

[47] The letter, of which I have a manuscript copy, taken from one in
the rich collection of Sir Thomas Phillips, is published at length by
Sandoval, in his Hist. de Carlos V., where it occupies twelve pages
folio. Tom. II. p. 475 et seq.

[48] "Quanto alla religione, sia certa V'ra Senta che ogni cosa può in
loro l'essempio et l'autorita del Principe, che in tanto gl'Inglesi
stimano la religione, et si muovono per essa, in quanto sodisfanno
all'obligo de'sudditi verso il Principe, vivendo com'ci vive, credendo
cioche ei crede, et finalmente facendo tutto quel che comanda
conservirsene, più per mostra esteriore, per non incorrere in sua
disgratia, che per zelo interiore; perche il medesimo faciano della
Maumettana o della Giudea, pur che 'l Re mostrasse di credere, et
volesse così; et s'accommodariano a tutte, ma a quella piu facilmente
dalla quale sperassero o ver'maggior licentia et libertà, di vivere, o
vero qualche utile." Relatione del Clarissimo M. Giovanni Micheli,
ritornato Ambasciatore alla Regina d'Inghilterra l'anno 1557, MS.

[49] Soriano notices the courteous bearing and address of his countryman
Micheli as rendering him universally popular at the courts where he
resided. "Il Michiel e gratissimo a tutti fino al minore, per la
dimestichezza che havea con grandi, et per la dolcezza et cortesia che
usava con gl'altri, et per il guidicio che mostrava con tutti."
Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS. Copies of Micheli's interesting
Relation are to be found in different public libraries of Europe; among
others, in the collection of the Cottonian MSS., and of the Lansdowne
MSS., in the British Museum; and in the Barberini Library, at Rome. The
copy in my possession is from the ducal library at Gotha. Sir Henry
Ellis, in the Second Series of his "Original Letters," has given an
abstract of the Cottonian MS.

[50] This agrees with the Lansdowne MS. The Cottonian, as given by Sir
Henry Ellis, puts the population at 150,000.

[51] "Essendo cavalli deboli, et di poca lena, nutriti solo d'erba,
vivendo como la pecore, et tutti gli altri animali, per la temperie
dell'aere da tutti i tempi ne i pascoli a la campagna, non possono
far'gran'pruove, ne sono tenuti in stima." Relatione di Gio. Micheli,
MS.

[52] "Non solo non sono in essere, ma non pur si considerano gravezze di
sorte alcuna, non di sale, non di vino o de bira, non di macina, non di
carne, non di far pane, et cose simili necessarie al vivere, che in
tutti gli altri luoghi d'Italia specialmente, et in Fiandra, sono di
tanto maggior utile, quanto è più grande il numero dei sudditi che le
consumano." Ibid. MS.

[53] "Sì come servi et sudditi son quelli che v'intervengono, così servi
et sudditi son l'attione che si trattano in essi." Ibid. MS.

[54] "E donna di statura piccola, più presta che mediocre; è di persona
magra et delicata, dissimile in tutto al padre, che fù grande et grosso;
et alla madre, che se non era grande era peró massiccia; et ben formata
di faccia, per quel che mostrano le fattezze et li lineamenti che si
veggono da i ritratti, quando era più giovane, non pur'tenuta honesta,
ma più che mediocremente bella; al presente se li scoprono qualche
crespe, causate piu da gli affanni che dall'etá, che la mostrano
attempata di qualche anni di piu." Ibid. MS.

[55] "Quanto se li potesse levare delle bellezze del corpo, tanto con
verita, et senza adulatione, se li puó aggiunger'di quelle del animo,
perche oltra la felicita et accortezza del ingegno, atto in capir tutto
quel che possa ciascun altro, dico fuor del sesso suo, quel che in una
donna parera maraviglioso, é instrutta di cinque lingue, le quali non
solo intende, ma quattro ne parla speditamente; questi sono altre la sua
materna et naturale inglese, la franzese, la spagnola, et l'italiana."
Ibid. MS.

[56] "E in tutto coragiosa, et cosi resoluta, che per nessuna adversità,
ne per nessun pericolo nel qual si sia ritrovata, non ha mai pur
mostrato, non che commesso atto alcuno di viltà ne di pusillanimità; ha
sempre tenuta una grandezza et dignità mirabile, cosi ben conoscendo
quel che si convenga al decoro del Re, come il più consummato
consigliero che ella habbia; in tanto che dal procedere, et dalle
maniere che da tenuto, et tiene tuttavia, non si può negare, che non
mostri d'esser nata di sangue veramente real." Ibid. MS.

[57] "Della qual humilità, pieta, et religion sua, non occorre
ragionare, ne renderne testimonio, perche son da tutti non solo
conosciute, ma sommamente predicate con le prove.... Fosse come un debol
lume combattuto da gran venti per estinguerlo del tutto, ma sempre
tenuto vivo, et difeso della sua innocentia et viva fede, accioche
havesse a risplender nel modo che hora fa." Ibid. MS.

[58] Burnet, History of the Reformation, (Oxford, 1816,) vol. II. part
ii. p. 557.

[59] Strype, Memorials, (London, 1721,) vol. III. p. 93.

[60] "Non si scopri mai congiura alcuna, nella quale, o giusta o
ingiustamente, ella non sia nominata.... Ma la Regina sforza quando seno
insieme di riceverla in publico con ogni sorte d'humanitá et d'honore,
ne mai gli parla, se non di cosa piacevole." Relatione di Gio. Micheli.
MS.

[61] Hall, Chronicle, (London, 1809,) pp. 692, 711.--Sepulvedæ Opera,
vol. II. pp. 46-48.

Sepulveda's account of the reign of Mary becomes of the more authority
from the fact that he submitted this portion of his history to the
revision of Cardinal Pole, as we learn from one of his epistles to that
prelate. Opera, tom. III. p. 309.

[62] Yet the emperor seems to have written in a somewhat different style
to his ambassador at the English court. "Desfaillant la force pour
donner assistance à nostre-dicte cousine comme aussy vous sçavez qu'elle
deffault pour l'empeschement que l'on nous donne du coustel de France,
nous ne véons aulcun apparent moyen pour assheurer la personne de
nostre-dicte cousine." L'Empereur à ses Ambassadeurs en Angleterre, 11
juillet, 1553, Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. IV, p. 25.

[63] Charles, in a letter to his ambassador in London, dated July 22,
1553, after much good counsel which he was to give Queen Mary, in the
emperor's name, respecting the government of her kingdom, directs him to
hint to her that the time had come when it would be well for the queen
to provide herself with a husband, and if his advice could be of any use
in the affair, she was entirely welcome to it. "Et aussy lui direz-vous
qu'il sera besoin que pour etre seustenue audit royaulme, emparée et
deffendue, mesmes en choses que ne sont de la profession de dames, il
sera très-requis que tost elle prenne party de mariaige avec qui il luy
semblera estre plus convenable, tenant regard à ce que dessus; et que
s'il lui plaît nous faire part avant que s'y déterminer, nous ne
fauldrons de, avec la sincérité de l'affection que lui portons, luy
faire entendre libéralement, sur ce qu'elle voudra mettre en avant,
nostre advis, et de l'ayder et favoriser en ce qu'elle se déterminera."
L'Empereur à ses Ambassadeurs en Angleterre, 22 juillet, 1553, Ibid., p.
56.

[64] Granvelle, who owed no good-will to the minister for the part which
he afterwards took in the troubles of Flanders, frequently puns on
Kenard's name, which he seems to have thought altogether significant of
his character.

[65] "Quant à Cortenay, vous pourriez bien dire, pour éviter au propoz
mencionné en voz lettres, que l'on en parle, pour veoir ce qu'elle dira;
mais gardez-vous de luy tout desfaire et mesmes qu'elle n'aye descouvert
plus avant son intention; car si elle y avoit fantasie, elle ne layroit
(si elle est du naturel des aultres femmes) de passer oultre, et si se
ressentiroit à jamais de ce que vous luy en pourriés avoir dit. Bien luy
pourriés-vous toucher des commoditez plus grandes que pourroit recepvoir
de mariaige estrangier, sans trop toucher à la personne où elle pourroit
avoir affection." L'Evêque d'Arras à Renard. 14 août, 1553, Ibid., p.
77.

[66] "Quant je luy fiz l'ouverture de mariaige, elle se print à rire,
non une foys ains plusieurs foys, me regardant d'un œil signifiant
l'ouverture luy estre fort aggréable, me donnant assez à cognoistre
qu'elle ne taichoit ou désiroit mariaige d'Angleterre." Renard à
l'Evêque d'Arras, 15 août, 1558, Ibid., p. 78.

[67] "Et, sans attendre la fin de ces propoz, elle jura que jamais elle
n'avoit senti esguillon de ce que l'on appelle amor, ny entré en
pensement de volupté, et qu'elle n'avoit jamais pensé à mariaige sinon
depuys que a pieu à Dieu la promovoir à la couronne, et que celluy
qu'elle fera sera contre sa propre affection, pour le respect de la
chose publicque; qu'elle se tient toute assurée sa majesté aura
considération à ce qu'elle m'a dict et qu'elle désire l'obéir et
complaire en tout et par tout comme son propre père; qu'elle n'oseroit
entrer en propoz de mariaige avec ceulx de son conseil, que fault, le
cas advenant, que vienne de la meute de sa majesté." Renard à l'Evêque
d'Arras, 8 septembre, 1553, Ibid., p. 98.

[68] "Vous la pourrez asseurer que, si nous estions en caige et
disposition telle qu'il conviendroit, et que jugissions que de ce peut
redonder le bien de ses affaires, nous ne vouldrions choysir aultre
party en ce monde plus tost que de nous alier nous-mesmes avec elle, et
seroit bien celle que nous pourrait donner austant de satisfaction."
L'Empereur à Renard, 20 septembre, 1553, Ibid., p. 112.

[69] Ibid., pp. 108-116.

Simon Renard, the imperial ambassador at this time at the English court,
was a native of Franche Comté, and held the office of _maître aux
requêtes_ in the household of the emperor. Renard, though a man of a
factious turn, was what Granvelle's correspondent, Morillon, calls "_un
bon politique_," and in many respects well suited to the mission on
which he was employed. His correspondence is of infinite value, as
showing the Spanish moves in this complicated game, which ended in the
marriage of Mary with the heir of the Castilian monarchy. It is
preserved in the archives of Brussels. Copies of these MSS., amounting
to five volumes folio, were to be found in the collection of Cardinal
Granvelle at Besançon. A part of them was lent to Griffet for the
compilation of his "Nouveaux Eclaircissemens sur l'Histoire de Marie
Reine d'Angleterre." Unfortunately, Griffet omitted to restore the MSS.;
and an hiatus is thus occasioned in the series of the Renard
correspondence embraced in the Granvelle Papers now in process of
publication by the French Government. It were to be wished that this
hiatus had been supplied from the originals, in the archives of
Brussels. Mr. Tytler has done good service by giving to the world a
selection from the latter part of Renard's correspondence, which had
been transcribed by order of the Record Commission from the MSS. in
Brussels.

[70] "Car si, quant à soy, il luy semble estre chose que ne luy convînt
ou ne fût faisable, il ne seroit à propoz, comme elle l'entend
tres-bien, d'en faire déclaracion à qui que ce soit; mais, en cas aussi
qu'elle jugea le party luy estre convenable et qu'elle y print
inclinacion, si, à son advis, la difficulté tumba sur les moyens, et que
en iceulx elle ne se peut résoldre sans la participation d'aulcuns de
son conseil, vous la pourriez en ce cas requérir qu'elle voulût prendre
de vous confiance pour vous déclairer à qui elle en vouldroit tenir
propoz, et ce qu'elle en vouldroit communicquer et par quelz moyens."
L'Empereur à Renard, 20 septembre, 1553, Ibid., p. 114.

[71] The Spanish match seems to have been as distasteful to the
Portuguese as it was to the English, and probably for much the same
reasons. See the letter of Granvelle, of August 14, 1553, Ibid., p. 77.

[72] "Les estrangiers, qu'ilz abhorrissent plus que nulle aultre
nacion." L'Empereur à Renard, 20 septembre, 1553, Ibid., p. 113.

[73] "Et si la difficulté se treuvoit aux conseillers pour leur intéretz
particulier, comme plus ilz sont intéressez, il pourroit estre que l'on
auroit meilleur moyen de les gaigner, assheurant ceulz par le moyen
desquelz la chose se pourroit conduyre, des principaulz offices et
charges dudict royaulme, voyre et leur offrant appart sommes notables de
deniers ou accroissance de rentes, priviléges et prérogatives."
L'Empereur à Renard, 20 septembre, 1553, Ibid., p. 113.

[74] In order to carry on the negotiation with greater secrecy, Renard's
colleagues at the English court, who were found to intermeddle somewhat
unnecessarily with the business, were recalled; and the whole affair was
intrusted exclusively to that envoy, and to Granvelle, the bishop of
Arras, who communicated to him the views of the emperor from
Brussels.--"Et s'est résolu taut plus l'empereur rappeler voz collègues,
afin que aulcung d'iceulx ne vous y traversa ou bien empescha s'y estans
montrez peu affectionnez, et pour non si bien entendre le cours de ceste
négociation, et pour aussi que vous garderez mieulx le secret qu'est
tant requis et ne se pourroit faire, passant ceste négociation par
plusieurs mains." L'Evêque d'Arras à Renard, 13 septembre, 1553, Ibid.,
p. 103.

[75] "Pour la requerir et supplier d'eslire ung seigneur de son pays
pour estre son mary, et ne vouloir prendre personnaige en mariaige, ny
leur donner prince qui leur puisse commander aultre que de sa nation."
Ambassades de Noailles, (Leyde, 1763,) tom. II. p. 234.

[76] "Le soir du 30 octobre, la reine fit venir en sa chambre, où étoit
exposé le saint sacrement, l'ambassadeur de l'empereur, et, après avoir
dit le _Veni creator_, lui dit qu'elle lui donnoit en face dudit
sacrement sa promesse d'épouser le prince d'Espagne, laquelle elle ne
changeroit jamais; qu'elle avoit feint d'être malade les deux jours
précédents, mais que sa maladie avoit été causée par le travail qu'elle
avoit eu pour prendre cette résolution." MS. in the Belgian archives,
cited by Mignet, Charles-Quint, p. 78, note.

[77] "Qu'elle tenoit de dieu la couronne de son royaulme, et que en luy
seul esperoit se conseiller de chose si importante." Ambassades de
Noailles, tom. II. p. 269.

[78] "Le dit Lieutenant a fait fondre quatre mil escuz pour chaines, et
les autres mil se repartiront en argent, comme l'on trouvera mieulx
convenir." Renard, ap. Tytler, Edward VI. and Mary, vol. II. p. 325.

[79] Strype, Memorials, vol. III. pp. 58, 59.--Holinshed, Chronicles,
(London, 1808,) vol. IV. pp. 10, 34, 41.

[80] Strype, (Memorials, vol. III. p. 196,) who quotes a passage from a
MS. of Sir Thomas Smith, the application of which, though the queen's
name is omitted, cannot be mistaken.

[81] "Si est-ce qu'elle verra assez par icelle sa ressemblance, la
voyant à son jour et de loing, comme sont toutes peinctures dudict
Titian que de près ne se recongnoissent." Marie, Reine de Hongrie, à
l'Ambassadeur Renard, novembre 19, 1553, Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle,
tom. IV. p. 150.

It may be from a copy of this portrait that the engraving was made which
is prefixed to this work.

[82] See the treaty in Rymer, Fœdera, vol. XV. p. 377.

[83] "Par là," adds Noailles, who tells the story, "vous pouvez veoir
comme le prince d'Espagne sera le bien venu en ce pays, puisque les
enfans le logent au gibet." Ambassades de Noailles, tom. III. p. 130.

[84] Holinshed, vol. IV. p. 16.--The accounts of this insurrection are
familiar to the English reader, as given at more or less length, in
every history of the period.

[85] "L'on a escript d'Espaigne que plusieurs sieurs deliberoient amener
leurs femmes avec eulx pardeça. Si ainsi est, vostre Majesté pourra
preveoir ung grand desordre en ceste court." Renard, ap. Tytler, Edward
VI. and Mary, vol. II. p. 351.

[86] "Seullement sera requis que les Espaignolez qui suyvront vostre
Alteze comportent les façons de faire des Angloys, et soient modestes,
confians que vostre Alteze les aicarassera par son humanité costumiere."
Ibid., p. 335.

[87] The particulars of this interview are taken from one of Renard's
despatches to the emperor, dated March 8, 1554, ap. Tytler, England
under the Reigns of Edward VI. and Mary, (vol. II. pp. 326-329,)--a work
in which the author, by the publication of original documents, and his
own sagacious commentary, has done much for the illustration of this
portion of English history.

[88] Florez, Reynas Catholicas, tom. II. p. 890.

[89] Philip would have preferred that Charles should carry out his
original design, by taking Mary for his own wife. But he acquiesced,
without a murmur, in the choice his father made for him. Mignet quotes a
passage from a letter of Philip to the emperor on this subject, which
shows him to have been a pattern of filial obedience. The letter is
copied by Gonzales in his unpublished work, Retiro y Estancia de Carlos
Quinto.--"Y que pues piensan proponer su matrimonio con Vuestra
Magestad, hallandose en disposicion para ello, esto seria lo mas
acertado. Pero en caso que Vuestra Magestad está en lo que me escribe y
le pareciere tratar de lo que à mi toca, ya Vuestra Magestad sabe que,
como tan obediente hijo, no he tener mas voluntad que la suya; cuanto
mas siendo este negocio de importancia y calidad que es. Y asi me ha
parecido remitirlo à Vuestra Magestad para que en toda haya lo que le
parecierá, y fuere servido." Mignet, Charles-Quint, p. 76.

[90] "Higo en esto lo que un Isaac dexandose sacrificar por hazer la
voluntad de su padre, y por el bien de la Iglesia." Sandoval, Hist. de
Carlos V., tom. II. p. 557.

[91] A single diamond in the ornament which Philip sent his queen was
valued at eighty thousand crowns.--"Una joya que don Filipe le enbiaba,
en que avia un diamante de valor de ochenta mil escudos." Cabrera,
Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 4.

[92] Letter of Lord Edmund Dudley to the Lords of the Council, MS. This
document, with other MSS. relating to this period, was kindly furnished
to me by the late lamented Mr. Tytler, who copied them from the
originals in the State Paper Office.

The young Lord Herbert mentioned in the text became afterwards that earl
of Pembroke who married, for his second wife, the celebrated sister of
Sir Philip Sidney, to whom he dedicated the "Arcadia,"--less celebrated,
perhaps, from this dedication, than from the epitaph on her monument, by
Ben Jonson, in Salisbury Cathedral.

[93] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 4.--Florez, Reynas
Catholicas, tom. II. p. 873.--Memorial des Voyages du Roi, MS.

[94] "Y prevenida de que los Embajadores se quejaban, pretextando que no
sabian si hablaban con la Princesa; levantaba el manto al empezar la
Audiencia, preguntando _¿Soy la Princesa?_ y en oyendo responder que si;
volvia à echarse el velo, como que ya cessaba el inconveniente de
ignorar con quien hablaban, y que para ver no necessitaba tener la cara
descubierta." Florez, Reynas Catholicas, tom. II. p. 873.

[95] Letter of Bedford and Fitzwaters to the Council, ap. Tytler, Edward
VI. and Mary, vol. II. p. 410.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 4,
5.--Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. pp. 496, 497.

[96] "Il appelle les navires de la flotte de vostre Majesté coquilles de
moules, et plusieurs semblables particularitez." Letter of Renard, ap.
Tytler, Edward VI. and Mary, vol. II. p. 414.

[97] "L'ordre de la Jaretiere, que la Royne et les Chevaliers ont
concludz luy donner et en a fait faire une la Royne, qu'est estimée sept
ou huict mil escuz, et joinctement fait faire plusieurs riches
habillemens pour son Altese." Ibid., p. 416.

[98] Salazar de Mendoza, Monarquia de España, (Madrid, 1770,) tom. II.
p. 118.--Ambassades de Noailles, tom. III. pp. 283-286.--Sepulvedsæ
Opera, vol. II. p. 498.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. I. cap. 5.--Leti,
Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 231.--Holinshed, vol. IV. p.
57.--Memorial des Voyages du Roi, MS.

[99] Strype, Memorials, vol. III. pp. 127, 128.

[100] The change in Philip's manners seems to have attracted general
attention. We find Wotton, the ambassador at the French court, speaking,
in one of his letters, of the report of it, as having reached his ears
in Paris. Wotton to Sir W. Petre, August 10, 1554, MS.

[101] According to Noailles, Philip forbade the Spaniards to leave their
ships, on pain of being hanged when they set foot on shore. This was
enforcing the provisions of the marriage treaty _en rigueur_. "Apres que
ledict prince fust descendu, il fict crier et commanda aux Espaignols
que chascun se retirast en son navire et que sur la peyne d'estre pendu,
nul ne descendist à terre." Ambassades de Noailles, tom. III. p. 287.

[102] Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. pp. 231, 232.

"Lors il appella les seigneurs Espaignols qui estoient pres de luy et
leur dict qu'il falloit desormais oublier toutes les coustumes
d'Espaigne, et vifvre de tous poincts à l'Angloise, à quoy il voulloit
bien commancer et leur monstrer le chemin, puis se fist apporter de la
biere de laquelle il beut." Ambassades de Noailles, tom. III. p. 287.

[103] According to Sepulveda, Philip gave a most liberal construction to
the English custom of salutation, kissing not only his betrothed, but
all the ladies in waiting, matrons and maidens, without distinction.
"Intra ædes progressam salutans Britannico more suaviavit habitoque
longiore et jucundissimo colloquio, Philippus matronas etiam et Regias
virgines sigillatim salutat osculaturque." Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p.
499.

[104] "Poco dopo comparve ancora la Regina pomposamente vestita,
rilucendo da tutte le parti pretiosissime gemme, accompagnata da tante e
cosi belle Principesse, che pareva ivi ridotta quasi tutta la bellezza
del mondo, onde gli Spagnoli servivano con il loro Olivastro, trà tanti
soli, come ombre." Leti. Vita di Filippo II. tom. I. p. 232.

[105] The sideboard of the duke of Albuquerque, who died about the
middle of the seventeenth century, was mounted by forty silver ladders!
And, when he died, six weeks were occupied in making out the inventory
of the gold and silver vessels. See Dunlop's Memoirs of Spain during the
reigns of Philip IV. and Charles II. (Edinburgh, 1834,) vol. I. p. 384.

[106] Strype, Memorials, vol. III. p. 130.

[107] Some interesting particulars respecting the ancient national
dances of the Peninsula are given by Ticknor, in his History of Spanish
Literature, (New York, 1849,) vol. II. pp. 445-448; a writer who, under
the title of a History of Literature, has thrown a flood of light on the
social and political institutions of the nation, whose character he has
evidently studied under all its aspects.

[108] "Relation of what passed at the Celebration of the Marriage of our
Prince with the Most Serene Queen of England,"--from the original at
Louvain, ap. Tytler, Edward VI. and Mary, vol. II. p. 430.--Salazar de
Mendoza, Monarquia de España, tom. II. p. 117.--Sandoval, Historia de
Carlos V., tom. II. pp. 560-563.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. pp.
231-233.--Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II, p. 500.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo,
lib. I. cap. 5.--Memorial de Voyages, MS.--Miss Strickland, Lives of the
Queens of England, vol. V. pp 389-396.

To the last writer I am especially indebted for several particulars in
the account of processions and pageants which occupies the preceding
pages. Her information is chiefly derived from two works, neither of
which is in my possession;--the Book of Precedents of Ralph Brook, York
herald, and the narrative of an Italian, Baoardo, an eye-witness of the
scenes he describes. Miss Strickland's interesting volumes are
particularly valuable to the historian for the copious extracts they
contain from curious unpublished documents, which had escaped the notice
of writers too exclusively occupied with political events to give much
heed to details of a domestic and personal nature.

[109] Holinshed, vol. IV. p. 62.

[110] Ibid., p. 63.

[111] The Spaniards must have been quite as much astonished as the
English at the sight of such an amount of gold and silver in the coffers
of their king,--a sight that rarely rejoiced the eyes of either Charles
or Philip, though lords of the Indies. A hundred horses might well have
drawn as many tons of gold and silver,--an amount, considering the value
of money in that day, that taxes our faith somewhat heavily, and not the
less that only two wagons were employed to carry it.

[112] Holinshed, ubi supra.

[113] Relatione di Gio. Micheli, MS.

Michele Soriano, who represented Venice at Madrid, in 1559, bears
similar testimony, in still stronger language, to Philip's altered
deportment while in England. "Essendo avvertito prima dal Cardinale di
Trento, poi dalla Regina Maria, et con più efficaccia dal padre, che
quella riputatione et severità non si conveniva a lui, che dovea dominar
nationi varie et popoli di costumi diversi, si mutò in modo che passando
l'altra volta di Spagna per andar in Inghilterra, ha mostrato sempre una
dolcezza et humanità così grande che non è superato da Prencipe alcuno
in questa parte, et benchè servi in tutte l'attioni sue riputatione et
gravità regie alle quali e per natura inclinato et per costume, non è
però manco grato anzi fano parere la cortesia maggiore che S. M. usa con
tutti." Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS.

[114] "Lasciando l'essecution delle cose di giustitia alla Regina, et a
i Ministri quand'occorre di condannare alcuno, o nella robba, o nella
vita, per poter poi usarli impetrando, come fa, le gratie, et le mercedi
tutte; le quai cose fanno, che quanto alla persona sua, non solo sia ben
voluto, et amato da ciascuno, ma anco desiderato." Relatione di Gio.
Micheli, MS.

[115] Letter of Nicholas Wotton to Sir William Petre, MS.

[116] See the remarks of John Elder, ap. Tytler, Edward VI. and Mary,
vol. II. p. 258.

[117] "Nella religione,.... per quel che dall'esterior si vede, non si
potria giudicar meglio, et più assiduo, et attentissimo alle Messe, a i
Vesperi, et alle Prediche, come un religioso, molto più che a lo stato,
et età sua, a molte pare che si convenga. Il medisimo conferiscono
dell'intrinseco oltra certi frati Theologi suoi predicatori huomini
certo di stima, et anco altri che ogni di trattano con lui, che nelle
cose della conscientia non desiderano nè più pia, nè miglior
intentione." Relatione di Gio. Micheli, MS.

[118] Ibid.

[119] Ibid.

Mason, the English minister at the imperial court, who had had much
intercourse with Pole, speaks of him in terms of unqualified admiration.
"Such a one as, for his wisdom, joined with learning, virtue, and
godliness, all the world seeketh and adoreth. In whom it is to be
thought that God hath chosen a special place of habitation. Such is his
conversation adorned with infinite godly qualities, above the ordinary
sort of men. And whosoever within the realm liketh him worst, I would he
might have with him the talk of one half-hour. It were a right stony
heart that in a small time he could not soften." Letter of Sir John
Mason to the Queen, MS.

[120] If we are to credit Cabrera, Philip not only took his seat in
parliament, but on one occasion, the better to conciliate the good-will
of the legislature to the legate, delivered a speech which the historian
gives _in extenso_. If he ever made the speech, it could have been
understood only by a miracle. For Philip could not speak English, and of
his audience not one in a hundred, probably, could understand Spanish.
But to the Castilian historian the occasion might seem worthy of a
miracle,--_dignus vindice nodus._

[121] "Obraron de suerte Don Felipe con prudencia, agrado, honras, y
mercedes, y su familia con la cortesía natural de España, que se reduxo
Inglaterra toda à la obediencia de la Iglesia Catolica Romana, y se
abjuraron los errores y heregias que corrían en aquel Reyno," says
Vanderhammen, Felipe el Prudente, p. 4.

[122] Strype, Memorials, vol. III. p. 209.

[123] Philip, in a letter to the Regent Joanna, dated Brussels, 1557,
seems to claim for himself the merit of having extirpated heresy in
England by the destruction of the heretics. "Aviendo apartado deste
Reyno las sectas, i reduzidole à la obediencia de la Inglesia, i aviendo
ido sempre en acrecentamiento con el castigo de los Ereges tan sin
contradiciones como se haze en Inglaterra." (Cabrera, Filipe Segundo,
lib. II. cap. 6.) The emperor, in a letter from Yuste, indorses this
claim of his son to the full extent. "Pues en Ynglaterra se han hecho y
hacen tantas y tan crudas justicias hasta obispos, por la orden que alli
ha dado, como si fuera su Rey natural, y se lo permiten." Carta del
Emperador a la Princesa, Mayo 25, 1558, MS.

[124] Micheli, whose testimony is of the more value, as he was known to
have joined Noailles in his opposition to the Spanish match, tells us
that Philip was scrupulous in his observance of every article of the
marriage treaty. "Che non havendo alterato cosa alcuna dello stile, et
forma del governo, non essendo uscito un pelo della capitolatione del
matrimonio, ha in tutto tolta via quella paura che da principio fù
grandissima, che egli non volesse con imperio, et con la potentia,
disporre, et comandare delle cose à modo suo." Relatione di Gio.
Micheli, MS.

[125] "D'amor nasce l'esser inamorata come è et giustamente del marito
per quel che s'ha potuto conoscer nel tempo che è stata seco dalla
natura et modi suoi, certo da innamorar ognuno, non che chi havesse
havuto la buona compagnia et il buon trattamento ch'ell'ha havuto. Tale
in verità che nessun'altro potrebbe essergli stato nè migliore nè più
amorevol marito.... Se appresso al martello s'aggiungesse la gelosia,
della qual fin hora non si sa che patisca, perche se non ha il Re per
casto, almanco dice ella so che è libero dell'amor d'altra donna; se
fosse dico gelosa, sarebbe veramente misera." Relatione di Gio. Micheli,
MS.

[126] Holinshed, vol. IV. pp. 70, 82.

[127] Soriano notices the little authority that Philip seemed to possess
in England, and the disgust which it occasioned both to him and his
father.

"L'imperatore, che dissegnava sempre cose grandi, pensò potersi
acquistare il regno con occasione di matrimonio di quella regina nel
figliuolo; ma non gli successe quel che desiderava, perche questo Re
trovò tant'impedimenti et tante difficolta che mi ricordo havere inteso
da un personaggio che S. M^{ta.} si trova ogni giorno più mal contenta
d'haver atteso a quella prattica perchè non haver nel regno ne autorità
nè obedienza, nè pure la corona, ma solo un certo nome che serviva più
in apparenza che in effetto." Relatione di Michele Soriano, MS.

[128] "Hispani parum humane parumque hospitaliter a Britannis
tractabantur, ita ut res necessarias longe carius communi pretio emere
cogerentur." Sepulvedæ Opera, vol. II. p. 501.

[129] "Quando occorre disparere tra un Inglese et alcun di questi, la
giustitia non procede in quel modo che dovria..... Son tanti le
cavillationi, le lunghezze, et le spese senza fine di quei lor'giuditii,
che al torto, o al diritto, conviene ch'il forestiero soccumba; ne
bisogna pensar che mai si sottomettessero l'Inglesi come l'altre nationi
ad uno che chiamano l'Alcalde della Corte, spagnuole di natione, che
procede sommariamente contra ogn'uno, per vie però, et termini
Spagnuoli; havendo gl'Inglesi la lor legge, dalla quale non solo non si
partiriano, ma vogliano obligar a quella tutti gl'altre." Relatione di
Gio. Micheli, MS.

[130] Holinshed, vol. IV. p. 80.--Strype, Memorials, vol. III. p.
227.--Memorial de Voyages, MS.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p.
236.

[131] Relazione di Roma di Bernardo Navagero, 1558, published in
Relazioni degli Ambasciatori Veneti, Firenze, 1846, vol. VII. p. 378.

Navagero, in his report to the senate, dwells minutely on the personal
qualities as well as the policy of Paul the Fourth, whose character
seems to have been regarded as a curious study by the sagacious
Venetian.

"Ritornato a Roma, rinuncio la Chiesa di Chieti, che aveva prima, e
quella di Brindisi, ritirandosi affatto, e menando sempre vita privata,
aliena da ogni sorte di publico affare, anzi, lasciata dopo il saco Roma
stessa, passó a Verona e poi a Venezia, quivi trattenendosi lungo tempo
in compagnia di alcuni buoni Religiosi della medesima inclinazione, che
poi crescendo di numero, ed in santità di costumi, fondarono la
Congregazione, che oggi, dal Titolo che aveva Paolo allora di Vescovo
Teatino, de Teatini tuttavia ritiene il nome."

See also Relazione della Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, di
Pietro Nores, MS.

[132] Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

[133] Ibid.--Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo,
MS.--Giannone, Istoria Civile del Regno di Napoli, (Milano, 1823,) tom.
X. pp. 11-13.

[134] "Vuol essere servito molto delicatamente; e nel principio del suo
pontificato non bastavano venticinque piatti; beve molto più di quello
che mangia; il vino è possente e gagliardo, nero e tanto spesso, che si
potria quasi tagliare, e dimandasi mangiaguerra, il quale si conduce dal
regno di Napoli." Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

[135] "Nazione Spagnuola, odiata da lui, e che egli soleva chiamar vile,
ed abieta, seme di Giudei, e feccia del Mondo." Nores, Guerra fra Paolo
Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.

"Dicendo in presenza di molti: che era venuto il tempo, che sarebbero
castigati dei loro peccati; che perderebbero li stati, e che l'Italia
saria liberata." Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

At another time we find the pope declaiming against the Spaniards, now
the masters of Italy, who had once been known there only as its cooks.
"Dice..... di sentire infinito dispiacere, che quelli che solevano
essere cuochi o mozzi di stalla in Italia, ora comandino." Relazione di
Bernardo Navagero.

[136] "Cammina che non pare che tocchi terra; è tutto nervo con poca
carne." Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

[137] "Servì lungo tempore l'Imperatore, ma con infelicissimo evento,
non avendo potuto avere alcuna ricompensa, come egli stesso diceva, in
premio della sua miglior etá, e di molte fatiche, e pericoli sostenuti,
se non spese, danni, disfavore, esilio ed ultimamente un ingiustissima
prigionia." Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo,
MS.--Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

[138] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Summonte,
Historia della Città e Regno di Napoli, (Napoli, 1675,) tom. IV. p.
278.--Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 20.

[139] Brantôme, who has introduced the constable into his gallery of
portraits, has not omitted this characteristic anecdote. "On disait
qu'il se falloit garder des patenostres de M. le connestable, car en les
disant et marmottant lors que les ocasions se presentoient, comme force
desbordemens et desordres y arrivent maintenant, il disoit: Allez moy
pendre un tel; attachez celuy là à cet arbre; faictes passer cestuy là
par les picques tout à ceste heure, ou les harquebuses tout devant moy;
taillez moy en pieces tous ces marauts," etc. Brantôme Œuvres (Paris,
1822,) tom. II. p. 372.

[140] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Summonte,
Historia di Napoli, tom. IV. p. 280.--Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom.
X. p. 21.--De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p. 23 et seq.

[141] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli tom. X. p. 19.

[142] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Carta del
Duque de Alba à la Gobernadora, 28 de Julio, 1556, MS.--Giannone,
Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. pp. 15, 16.

[143] I have three biographies of the duke of Alva, which give a view of
his whole career. The most important is one in Latin, by a Spanish
Jesuit named Ossorio, and entitled Ferdinandi Toletani Albæ Ducis Vita
et Res Gestæ (Salmanticiæ, 1669). The author wrote nearly a century
after the time of his hero. But as he seems to have had access to the
best sources of information, his narrative may be said to rest on a good
foundation. He writes in a sensible and business-like manner, more often
found among the Jesuits than among the members of the other orders. It
is not surprising that the harsher features of the portrait should be
smoothed down under the friendly hand of the Jesuit commemorating the
deeds of the great champion of Catholicism.

A French life of the duke, printed some thirty years later, is only a
translation of the preceding, Histoire de Ferdinand-Alvarez de Toledo,
Duc d'Albe (Paris, 1699). A work of more pretension is entitled Resultas
de la Vida de Fernando Alvarez tercero Duque de Alva, escrita por Don
Juan Antonio de Vera y Figueroa, Conde de la Roca (1643). It belongs,
apparently, to a class of works not uncommon in Spain, in which vague
and uncertain statements take the place of simple narrative, and the
writer covers up his stilted panegyric with the solemn garb of moral
philosophy.

[144] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 27.--Consulta hecha a
varios letrados y téologos relativamente a las desavenencias con el
Papa, MS. This document is preserved in the archives of Simancas.

[145] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Andrea,
Guerra da Campaña de Roma, (Madrid, 1589,) p. 14.--Summonte, Historia di
Napoli, tom. IV. p. 270.

The most circumstantial printed account of this war is to be found in
the work of Alessandro Andrea, a Neapolitan. It was first published in
Italian, at Venice, and subsequently translated by the author into
Castilian, and printed at Madrid. Andrea was a soldier of some
experience, and his account of these transactions is derived partly from
personal observation, and partly, as he tells us, from the most
accredited witnesses. The Spanish version was made at the suggestion of
one of Philip's ministers,--pretty good evidence that the writer, in his
narrative, had demeaned himself like a loyal subject.

[146] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 25.--Carta del Duque de
Alba à la Gobernadora, 8 de Setiembre, 1556, MS.

"In tal mode, non solo veniva a mitigar l'asprezze, che portava seco
l'occupar le Terre dello stato ecclesiastico, ma veniva a sparger semi
di discordia, e di sisma, fra li Cardinali, ed il Papa, tentando
d'alienarli da lui, e mostrargli verso di loro riverenza, e rispetto."
Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.

[147] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.

[148] "Stava intrepido, parlando delle cose appartenenti a quel'uffizio,
come se non vi fusse alcuna sospezione di guerra, non che gl'inimici
fussero vicini alle porte." Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

[149] "Pontifex eam conditionem ad se relatam aspernatus in eo
persistebat, ut Albanus copias domum reduceret, deinde quod vellet, a se
supplicibus precibus postularet." Sepulveda, De Rebus Gestis Philippi
II., lib. I. cap. 17.

[150] Sismondi, Histoire des Français, tom. XVIII. p. 17.

[151] "Quel Pontefice, che per ciascuna di queste cose che fosse cascata
in un processo, avrebbe condannato ognuno alla morte ed al fuoco, le
tollerava in questi, come in suoi defensori." Relazione di Bernardo
Navagero.

[152] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.

[153] The details of the siege of Ostia are given with more or less
minuteness by Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.;
Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 72 et seq.; Campana, Vita del Catholico Don
Filippo Secondo, con le Guerre de suoi Tempi, (Vicenza, 1605,) tom. II.
fol. 146, 147; Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. II. cap. 15.

[154] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Andrea,
Guerra de Roma, p. 86 et seq.

The Emperor Charles the Fifth, when on his way to Yuste, took a very
different view from Alva's of the truce, rating the duke roundly for not
having followed up the capture of Ostia by a decisive blow, instead of
allowing the French time to enter Italy and combine with the pope.--"El
emperador oyó todo lo que v. md. dize del duque y de Italia, y ha
tornado muy mal el haver dado el duque oidos à suspension de armas, y
mucho mas de haver prorrogado el plazo, por parecelle que será
instrumento para que la gente del Rey que baxava à Piamonte se juntasse
con la del Papa, ó questa dilacion sera necessitar al duque, y
estorvalle el effecto que pudiera hazer, si prosiguiera su vitoria
despues de haber ganado à Ostia, y entredientes dixo otras cosas que no
pude comprehender." Carta de Martin de Gaztelu à Juan Vazquez, Enero 10,
1557, MS.

[155] Sepulveda, De Rebus Gestis Philippi II., p. 13.

[156] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Andrea,
Guerra de Roma, p. 165.

[157] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Andrea,
Guerra de Roma, p. 220.--De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p.
86.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. III. cap. 9.

[158] Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 226.

[159] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 40.

[160] Sismondi, Histoire des Français, tom. XVIII. p. 39.

[161] "Encendido de colera, vino a dezir, Que Dios se auia buelto
Español." Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 228.

[162] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 35.

[163] Norres, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Flippo Secondo, MS.--Andrea,
Guerra de Roma, p. 237.--Ossorio, Albæ Vita, tom. II. p. 64.

[164] The particulars of the siege of Civitella may be found in Nores,
Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.; Andrea, Guerra de Roma,
p. 222 et seq.; Ossorio, Albæ Vita, tom. II. pp. 53-59; Cabrera, Filipe
Segundo, lib. III. cap. 9; De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p.
87 et seq., &c.

[165] "Quiso guardar el precepto de guerra que es: Hazer la puente de
plata al enemigo, que se va." Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 285.

[166] "No pensava jugar el Reyno de Napoles contra una casaca de brocado
del Duque de Guisa." Vera y Figueroa, Resultas de la Vida del Duque de
Alva, p. 66.

[167] "Quiso usar alli desta sexeridad, no por crueza, sino para dar
exemplo a los otros, que no se atreuiesse un lugarejo a defenderse de un
exercito real." Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 292.

[168] Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 302.--Ossorio, Albæ Vita, tom. II. p.
96.--Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.

[169] "Los enemigos han tomado a Seña con saco, muerte, y fuego......
Entraran en Roma, y la saqueran, y prenderan a mi persona; y yo, que
desseo ser cō Christo, aguardo sin miedo la corona del martirio."
Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 303.

"Si mostró prontissimo e disposto di sostenere il martirio." Nores,
Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.

[170] Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 306.

[171] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Andrea,
Guerra de Roma, pp. 306-311.--Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.--Ossorio,
Albæ Vita, tom. II. p. 117 et seq.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV.
cap. 11.

[172] "Dixo a Don Fernando de Toledo su hijo estas palabras: Temo que
hemos de saquear a Roma, y no querria." Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 312.

[173] Ibid., ubi supra.

[174] "Il Cardinal Sangiacomo, suo zio, dopo la tregua di quaranta
giorni, fu a vecerlo e gli disse: Figliuol mio, avete fatto bene a non
entrare in Roma, come so che avete potuto; e vi esorto che non lo
facciate mai; perchè, tutti quelli della nostra nazione che si trovarono
all'ultimo sacco, sono capitati male." Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

[175] Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

[176] Sismondi, Histoire des Français, tom. XVIII. p. 41.

[177] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 43.

[178] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Andrea,
Guerra de Roma, p. 314.--De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p.
128.--Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 45.--Ossorio, Albæ Vita,
tom. II. p. 131.

[179] "Hoggi il mio Rè ha fatto una gran sciocchezza, e se io fossi
stato in suo luogo, et egli nel mio, il Cardinal Carafa sarebbe andato
in Fiandra à far quelle stesse sommissioni à sua Maestà che io vengo
hora di fare à sua Santità." Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 293.

[180] Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

[181] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 45.--Nores, Guerra fra
Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I.
p. 293.--Andrea, Guerra de Roma, p. 316.

[182] Charles the Fifth, who received tidings of the peace at Yuste, was
as much disgusted with the terms of it as the duke himself. He even
vented his indignation against the duke, as if he had been the author of
the peace. He would not consent to read the despatches which Alva sent
to him, saying that he already knew enough; and for a long time after
"he was heard to mutter between his teeth," in a tone which plainly
showed the nature of his thoughts. Retiro y Estancia, ap. Mignet,
Charles-Quint, p. 307.

[183] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 46.

[184] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 50.--Nores, Guerra fra
Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.

[185] Nores, Guerra fra Paolo Quarto e Filippo Secondo, MS.--Giannone,
Istoria di Napoli, tom. X. p. 50.

[186] "Della quale se altri non voleva aver cura, voleva almeno averla
esso; e sebbene i suoi consigli non fossero uditi, avrebbe almeno la
consolazione di avere avuto quest'animo, e che si dicesse un giorno: che
un vecchio italiano che, essendo vicino alla morte, doveva attendere a
riposare e a piangere i suoi peccati, avesse avuto tanto alti disegni."
Relazione di Bernardo Navagero.

[187] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 2.--Carta del Rey Don
Felipe Segundo a Ruy Gomez de Silva a XI. de Março, 1557, MS.--Papiers
d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. V. pp. 61, 63.

[188] Tytler, in his England under Edward VI. and Mary, (vol. II. p.
483,) has printed extracts from the minutes of the council, with the
commentaries of Philip by the side of them. The commentaries, which are
all in the royal autograph, seem to be as copious as the minutes
themselves.

[189] Herrera, Historia General del Mundo, de XV. Años del Tiempo del
Señor Rey Don Felipe II., (Valladolid, 1606,) lib. IV. cap.
13.--Gaillard, Histoire de la Rivalité de la France et de l'Espagne,
(Paris, 1801,) tom. V. p. 243.

[190] See Tytler's valuable work, Reigns of Edward VI. and Mary. The
compilation of this work led its candid author to conclusions eminently
favorable to the personal character of Queen Mary.

[191] Conf. De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p. 148; Cabrera,
Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 4; Campana, Vita del Re Filippo Secondo,
parte II. lib. 9; Herrera, Historia General, lib. IV. cap. 14.

The historian here, as almost everywhere else where numerical estimates
are concerned, must content himself with what seems to be the closest
approximation to the truth. Some writers carry the Spanish foot to fifty
thousand. I have followed the more temperate statement of the
contemporary De Thou, who would not be likely to underrate the strength
of an enemy.

[192] See the letters of the duke published in the Papiers d'Etat de
Granvelle, (tom. V., passim,)--business-like documents, seasoned with
lively criticisms on the characters of those he had to deal with.

[193] Relazione della Corte di Savoja di Gio Francesco Morosini, 1570,
ap. Relazioni degli Ambasciatori Veneti, vol. iv.

[194] See the letter of the queen to Philip, in Strype, Catalogue of
Originals, No. 56.

[195] Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. V. p. 115.

[196] De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p. 147.--Commentaires de
François de Rabutin, ap. Nouvelle Collection des Mémoires pour servir à
l'Histoire de France, par MM. Michaud et Poujoulat, (Paris, 1838,) tom.
VII. p. 535.--Herrera, Historia General, lib. IV. cap. 14.--Cabrera,
Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 5.

[197] "Ils furent tous deux, dans leur jeunes ans,..... sy grands
compagnons, amis et confederez de court, que j'ay ouy dire à plusieurs
qui les ont veus habiller le plus souvant de mesmes parures, mesmes
livrées,..... tous deux fort enjoüez et faisant des follies plus
extravagantes que tous les autres; et sur tout ne faisoient nulles
follies qu'ils ne fissent mal, tant ils etoient rudes joüeurs et
malheureux en leurs jeux." Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. III. p. 265.

[198] "Il falloit les nourrir ou les faire mourir de faim, qui eust peu
apporter une peste dans la ville." Mémoires de Gaspard de Coligni, ap.
Collection Universelle des Mémoires particuliers relatifs à l'Histoire
de France, (Paris, 1788,) tom. XL. p. 252.

[199] Ibid.--De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p. 151.--Rabutin,
ap. Nouvelle Collection des Mémoires, tom. VII. p. 540.--Garnier,
Histoire de France, (Paris, 1787,) tom. XXVII. p. 358.

[200] There is not so much discrepancy in the estimates of the French as
of the Spanish force. I have accepted the statements of the French
historians, Garnier, (Histoire de France, tom. XXVII. p. 354,) and De
Thou, (tom. III. p. 148,) who, however, puts the cavalry at one thousand
less. For authorities on the Spanish side, see Cabrera, Filipe Segundo,
lib. IV. cap. 7.--Herrera, Historia General, lib. IV. cap. 15.--Campana,
Vita del Re Filippo Secondo, parte II. lib. 9.

[201] Rabutin, ap. Nouvelle Collection des Mémoires, tom. VII. p. 548.

[202] Ibid., ubi supra.--Monpleinchamp, Histoire d'Emmanuel Philibert
Duc de Savoie, (Amsterdam, 1699,) p. 146.--De Thou, Histoire
Universelle, tom. III. p. 157.

The first of these writers, François de Rabutin, is one of the best
authorities for these transactions, in which he took part as a follower
of the duc de Nevers.

[203] "Encore à sortir des bateaux, à cause de la presse, les soldats ne
pouvoient suivre les addresses et sentes qui leur estoient appareillées;
de façon qu'ils s'escartoient et se jettoient à costé dans les creux des
marets, d'où ils ne pouvoient sortir, et demeuroient là embourbez et
noyez." Rabutin, ap. Nouvelle Collection des Mémoires, tom. VII. p. 549.

[204] Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 361.

[205] I quote the words of Monpleinchamp, (Histoire du Duc de Savoie, p.
147,) who, however, speaks of the fire as coming from the
artillery,--hardly probable, as the French batteries were three miles
distant, up the river. But accuracy does not appear to be the chief
virtue of this writer.

[206] "Manda au prince, pour toute réponse, qu'il étoit bien jeune pour
vouloir lui apprendre son metier, qu'il commandoit les armées avant que
celui-ci fût au monde, et qu'il comptoit bien en vingt ans lui donner
encore des leçons." Garnier, Histoire de France, tom. XXVII. p. 364.

[207] Rabutin, who gives this account, says it would be impossible to
tell how the disorder began. It came upon them so like a thunderclap,
that no man had a distinct recollection of what passed. Rabutin, ap.
Nouvelle Collection des Mémoires, tom. VII. p. 550.

[208] "Appellant à lui dans ce trouble le vieux d'Oignon, officier
expérimenté, il lui demanda: Bon homme, que faut-il faire? Monseigneur,
répondit d'Oignon, il y a deux heures que je vous l'aurois bien dit,
maintenant je n'en sais rien." Garnier, Histoire de France, tom. XXVII.
p. 368.

[209] "Noirs comme de beaux diables." Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. III. p.
185.

[210] "Icelles compagnies de fantrie, en ce peu qu'elles se
comportoient, autant belles, bien complettes et bien armées, que l'on en
avoit veu en France il y avoit long-temps." Rabutin, ap. Nouvelle
Collection des Mémoires, tom. VII. p. 551.

[211] "A ces nouvelles s'esleverent tellement leurs esprits et courages,
qu'ils recoururent incontinent aux armes, et n'oyoit-on plus partout que
demander harnois et chevaux, et trompettes sonner à cheval, ayant chacun
recouvert ses forces et sentimens pour venger la honte précédente;
toutefois ce murmure se trouva nul, et demeura assoupi en peu d'heure."
Ibid., p. 552.

[212] Campana, Vita del Re Filippo Secondo, parte II. lib. 9.

According to some accounts, the loss did not exceed fifty. This,
considering the spirit and length of the contest, will hardly be
credited. It reminds one of the wars with the Moslems in the Peninsula,
where, if we are to take the account of the Spaniards, their loss was
usually as one to a hundred of the enemy.

[213] For the preceding pages, see Rabutin, ap. Nouvelle Collection des
Mémoires, tom. VII. pp. 548-552.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap.
7.--Campana, Vita del Re Filippo Secondo, parte II. lib.
9.--Monpleinchamp, Vie du Duc de Savoie, pp. 146-150.--Herrera, Historia
General, lib. IV. cap. 15.--De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. pp.
154-160.--Garnier, Histoire de France, tom. XXVII. pp. 361-372.--Carta
de Felipe 2do à su padre anunciandole la victoria de San Quentin, MS.

[214] "Pues yo no me hallé alli, de que me pesa lo que V. M. no puede
pensar, no puedo dar relaçion de lo que paso sino de oydas." Carta de
Felipe 2do à su padre, 11 de Agosto, 1557, MS.

[215] This appears by a letter of the major-domo of Charles, Luis
Quixada, to the secretary, Juan Vazquez de Molina, MS.

"Siento que no se puede conortar de que su hijo no se hallase en ello."

[216] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 7

[217] De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p. 246.

[218] It is Brantôme who tells the anecdote, in his usual sarcastic way.
"Encor, tout religieux, demy sainct qu'il estoit, il ne se peut en
garder que quant le roy son fils eut gaigné la bataille de
Sainct-Quentin de demander aussi tost que le courrier luy apporta des
nouvelles, s'il avoit bien poursuivi la victoire, et jusques aux portes
de Paris." Œuvres, tom. I. p. 11.

Luis Quixada, in a letter written at the time from Yuste, gives a
version of the story, which, if it has less point, is probably more
correct. "S. Magd. está con mucho cuidado por saber que camino arrá
tomado el Rey despues de acabada aquella empresa de San Quintin." Carta
de 27 de Setiembre, 1557, MS.

[219] "Para no entrar en Francia como su padre comiendo pabos, i salir
comiendo raizes." Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 8.

[220] "Si l'on m'oyoit tenir quelque langage, qui approchast de faire
composition, je les suppliois tous qu'ils me jettassent, comme un
poltron, dedans le fossé par dessus les murailles: que s'il y avoit
quelqu'un qui m'en tint propos, _je ne lui en ferois pas moins_."
Coligni, Mémoires, ap. Collection Universelle des Mémoires, tom. XL. p.
272.

[221] Gaillard, Rivalité, tom. V. p. 253.

[222] Burnet, Reformation, vol. III. p. 636.

[223] For notices of the taking of St. Quentin, in greater or less
detail, see Coligni, Mémoires, ap. Collection Universelle des Mémoires,
tom. XL.; Rabutin, Mémoires, ap. Nouvelle Collection des Mémoires, tom.
VII. p. 556 et seq.; De Thou. Histoire Universelle, tom. III. pp.
164-170; Campana, Vita del Re Filippo Secondo, parte II. lib. 9;
Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 9; Monpleinchamp, Vie du Duc de
Savoie, p. 152.

Juan de Pinedo, in a letter to the secretary Vazquez, (dated St.
Quentin, August 27,) speaking of the hard fighting which took place in
the assault, particularly praises the gallantry of the English: "Esta
tarde entre tres y quatro horas se ha entrado San Quentin à pura fuerça
peleando muy bien los de dentro y los de fuera, muy escogidamente todos,
y por estremo los Ingleses." MS.

[224] Letter of the earl of Bedford to Sir William Cecil, (dated "from
our camp beside St. Quentin, the 3rd of Sept. 1557,") ap. Tytler, Edward
VI. and Mary, vol. II p. 493.

[225] According to Sepulveda, (De Rebus Gestis Philippi II., lib. I.
cap. 30,) no less than four thousand women. It is not very probable that
Coligni would have consented to cater for so many useless mouths.

[226] "The Swartzrotters, being masters of the king's whole army, used
such force, as well to the Spaniards, Italians, and all other nations,
as unto us, that there was none could enjoy nothing but themselves. They
had now showed such cruelty, as the like hath not been seen for
greediness: the town by them was set a-fire, and a great piece of it
burnt." Letter of the earl of Bedford to Cecil, ap. Tytler, Edward VI.
and Mary, vol. II. p. 493.

[227] Rabutin, Mémoires, ap. Nouvelle Collection des Mémoires, tom. VII.
pp. 537-564.--De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. pp.
149-170.--Campana, Vita di Filippo Secondo, parte II. lib. 9.

The best account of the siege of St. Quentin is to be found in Coligni's
Mémoires, (ap. Collection Universelle des Mémoires, tom. XL. pp.
217-290,) written by him in his subsequent captivity, when the events
were fresh in his memory. The narrative is given in a simple,
unpretending manner, that engages our confidence, though the author
enters into a minuteness of detail which the general historian may be
excused from following.

[228] De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. pp. 173-177.--Cabrera,
Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 13.--Sepulveda, De Rebus Gestis Philippi
II., lib. I. cap. 32.

[229] De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III, pp. 163, 176.--Garnier,
Histoire de France, tom. XXVII. p. 377 et seq.

[230] "C'etoit un proverbe reçu en France pour désigner un mauvais
général, un guerrier sans mérite, de dire: _il ne chassera pas les
Anglois de la France_." Gaillard, Rivalité de France et de l'Espagne,
tom. V. p. 260

[231] "Aussi les Anglois furent si glorieux (car ils le sont assez de
leur naturel) de mettre sur les portes de la ville que, lors que les
François assiegeront Calais, l'on verra le plomb et le fer nager sur
l'eau comme le liege." Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. III. p. 203.

[232] Burnet, History of the Reformation, vol. III. p. 646.

[233] Ibid., p. 650.

[234] De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p. 238.--Garnier,
Histoire de France, tom. XXVII. p. 512.--Rabutin, ap. Nouvelle
Collection des Mémoires, tom. VII. p. 598.--Campana, Vita del Re Filippo
Secondo, parte II. lib. 10.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap.
21.--Herrera, Historia General, lib. V. cap. 5.--Monpleinchamp, Vie du
Duc de Savoie, p. 154.

[235] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 21.

[236] "Nous sommes vainqueurs; que ceux qui aiment la gloire et leur
patrie me suivent." De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p. 240.

[237] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 21.

[238] De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p. 240.--Garnier,
Histoire de France, tom. XXVII. p. 516.

[239] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 21.--De Thou, Histoire
Universelle, tom. III. p. 241.

[240] "Ma della caualleria niuno fu quasi, ch'ò non morisse combattendo,
ò non restasse prigione, non potendosi saluar fuggendo in quei luoghi
paludosi, malageuoli." Campana, Vita del Re Filippo Secondo, parte II.
lib. 10.

[241] For the accounts of this battle, see Campana, Vita del Re Filippo
Secondo, parte II. lib. 10.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap.
21.--De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. pp. 239-241.--Garnier,
Histoire de France, tom. XXVII. p. 513 et seq.--Rabutin, ap. Nouvelle
Collection des Mémoires, tom. VII. p. 598.--Herrera, Historia General,
lib. V. cap. 5.--Ferreras, Histoire Générale d'Espagne, tom. IX. p.
396.--Monpleinchamp, Vie du Duc de Savoie, p. 155.

I know of no action of which the accounts are so perfectly
irreconcilable in their details as those of the battle of Gravelines.
Authorities are not even agreed as to whether it was an English fleet
that fired on the French troops. One writer speaks of it as a Spanish
squadron from Guipuscoa. Another says the marines landed, and engaged
the enemy on shore. It is no easy matter to extract a probability from
many improbabilities. There is one fact, however, and that the most
important one, in which all agree,--that Count Egmont won a decisive
victory over the French at Gravelines.

[242] There is an interesting letter of Philip's sister, the Regent
Joanna, to her father, the emperor, then in the monastery at Yuste. It
was written nearly a year before this period of our history. Joanna
gives many good reasons, especially the disorders of his finances, which
made it expedient for Philip to profit by his successful campaign to
conclude a peace with France,--the same which now presented themselves
with such force to both Philip and his ministers. The capture of Calais,
soon after the date of Joanna's letter, and the great preparations made
by Henry, threw a weight into the enemy's scale which gave new heart to
the French to prolong the contest, until it ended with the defeat at
Gravelines.--Carta de la Princesa Juana al Emperador, 14 de Diciembre,
1557, MS.--Carta del Emperador à la Princesa, 26 de Diciembre, 1557, MS.

[243] Relatione di Giovanni Micheli, MS.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib.
IV. cap. 2, 4.--Campana, Vita di Filippo Secundo, parte II. lib. 11.

[244] Relatione di Giovanni Micheli, MS.

[245] "Yo os digo que yo estoy de todo punto imposibilitado à sostener
la guerra.... Estos términos me parecen tan aprestados que so pena de
perderme no puedo dejar de concertarme." Letter of Philip to the Bishop
of Arras, (February 12. 1559,) ap. Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. V.
p. 454, et alibi.

Philip told the Venetian minister he was in such straits, that, if the
French king had not made advances towards an accommodation, he should
have been obliged to do so himself. Campana, Vita di Filippo Secondo,
parte II. lib. 11.

[246] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 16.--Ferreras, Histoire
Générale d'Espagne, tom. VII. p. 397.

[247] "Habló que era de tener en mas la pressa del Condestable, que si
fuera la misma persona del Rey, porque faltando el, falta el govierno
jeneral todo." Carta del Mayordomo Don Luis Mendez Quixada al Secretario
Juan Vazquez de Molina, MS.

[248] The French government had good reasons for its distrust. It
appears from the correspondence of Granvelle, that that minister
employed a _respectable_ agent to take charge of the letters of St.
André, and probably of the other prisoners, and that these letters were
inspected by Granvelle before they passed to the French camp. See
Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. V. p. 178.

[249] Some historians, among them Sismondi, seem to have given more
credit to the professions of the politic Frenchman than they deserve,
(Histoire des Français, tom. XVIII. p. 73.). Granvelle, who understood
the character of his antagonist better, was not so easily duped. A
memorandum among his papers thus notices the French cardinal: "Toute la
démonstration que faisoit ledict cardinal de Lorraine de désirer paix,
estoit chose faincte à la françoise et pour nous abuser." Papiers d'Etat
de Granvelle, tom. V. p. 168.

[250] "Adjoustant que, si Calaix demeuroit aux François, ny luy ny ses
collègues n'oseroyent retourner en Angleterre, et que certainement le
peuple les lapideroit." Ibid., p. 319.

[251] "Were I to die this moment, want of frigates would be found
written on my heart." The original of this letter of Nelson is in the
curious collection of autograph letters which belonged to the late Sir
Robert Peel.

[252] Philip's feelings in this matter may be gathered from a passage in
a letter to Granvelle, in which he says that the death of the young
queen of Scots, then very ill, would silence the pretensions which the
French made to England, and relieve Spain from a great embarrassment.
"Si la reyna moça se muriesse, que diz que anda muy mala, nos quitaria
de hartos embaraços y del derecho que pretenden à Inglaterra." Papiers
d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. V. p. 643.

[253] "Tras esto véola muy indignada de las cosas que se han hecho
contra ella en vida de la Reina: muy asida al pueblo, y muy confiada que
lo tiene todo de su parte (como es verdad), y dando à entender que el
Pueblo la ha puesto en el estado que está: y de esto no reconoce nada à
V. M. ni à la nobleza del Reino, aunque dice que la han enviado à
prometer todos que la serán fieles." Memorias de la Real Academia de la
Historia, (Madrid, 1832,) tom. VII. p. 254.

[254] "Non manco bella d'animo che sia di corpo; ancor'che di faccia si
puó dir' che sia piu tosto gratiosa che bella." Relatione di Giovanni
Micheli, MS.

[255] "Della persona è grande, et ben formata, di bella carne, ancor che
olivastra, begl'occhi, et sopra tutto bella mano, di che fa professione,
d'un spirito, et ingegno mirabile: il che ha saputo molto ben
dimostrare, con l'essersi saputa ne i sospetti, et pericoli ne i quali
s'è ritrovata cosi ben governare.... Si tien superba, et gloriosa per il
padre; del quale dicono tutti che è anco più simile, et per cio gli fu
sempre cara." Ibid.

[256] The Spanish minister, Feria, desired his master to allow him to
mention Mary's jealousy, as an argument to recommend his suit to the
favor of Elizabeth. But Philip had the good feeling--or good taste--to
refuse. Memorias de la Real Academia, tom. VII. p. 260.

[257] "Dijo que convendria consultarlo con el Parlamento; bien que el
Rey Católico debia estar seguro que en caso de casarse, seria él
preferido á todos." Ibid., p. 264.

[258] "Paresceme que seria bien que el conde le hablasse claro en estas
cosas de la religion, y la amonestasse y rogasse de mi parte que no
hiziesse en este parlamento mudança en ella, y que si la hiciesse que yo
no podria venir en lo del casamiento, como en effecto no vendria." Carta
del Rey Phelipe al Duque de Alba, 7 de Febrero, 1559, MS.

[259] "Convendría que hablasse claro á la Reyna, y le dixesse rasamente
que aunque yo desseo mucho este negocio, (y por aquí envanesçella quanto
pudiesse,) pero que entendiesse que si haria mudança en la religion, yo
lo hacia en este desseo y voluntad por que despues no pudiesse dezir que
no se le avia dicho antes." Ibid.

[260] "Dijo que pensaba estar sin casarse, porque tenia mucho escrúpulo
en lo de la dispensa del Papa." Memorias de la Real Academia, tom. VII.
p. 265.

[261] Ibid., p. 266.

[262] "Aunque habia recibido pena de no haberse concluido cosa que tanto
deseaba, y parecía convenir al bien público, pues á ella no le habia
parecido tan necessario, y que con buena amistad se conseguiria el mismo
fin, quedaba satisfecho y contento." Ibid., ubi supra.

[263] The duke of Savoy, in a letter to Granvelle, says that the king is
in arrears more than a million of crowns to the German troops alone;
and, unless the ministers have some mysterious receipt for raising
money, beyond his knowledge, Philip will be in the greatest
embarrassment that any sovereign ever was. "No ay un real y devéseles á
la gente alemana, demas de lo que seles a pagado aora de la vieja deuda,
mas d'un mylion d'escudos..... Por esso mirad como hazeys, que sino se
haze la paz yo veo el rey puesto en el mayor trance que rey s'a visto
jamas, si él no tiene otros dineros, que yo no sé, á que el señor Eraso
alle algun secretto que tiene reservado para esto." Papiers d'Etat de
Granvelle, tom. V. p. 458.

[264] The minister in London was instructed to keep up the same show of
confidence to the English. "Todavía mostramos rostro á los Franceses,
como tambien es menester que alla se haga con los Ingleses, que no se
puede confiar que no vengan Franceses á saber dellos lo que alli podrian
entender." Ibid., p. 479.

[265] Ibid., p. 468.

"That the said Dolphin's and Queen of Scott's eldest daughter shall
marry with your highnes eldest sonne, who with her shall have Callice."
Forbes, State Papers of Elizabeth, vol. I. p. 54.

It seemed to be taken for granted that Elizabeth was not to die a maiden
queen, notwithstanding her assertions so often reiterated to the
contrary.

[266] "Hablando con la reyna sin persuadirla, ny á la paz, ny á que dexe
Calaix, by tampoco á que venga bien á las otras condiciones propuestas
por los Franceses, paraque en ningun tiempo pueda dezir que de parte de
S. M. la hayan persuadido á cosa que quiçá despues pensasse que no le
estuviesse bien, V. S. tenga respecto á proponerle las razones en
balança, de manera que pesen siempre mucho mas las que la han de
inclinar al concierto."--Ibid., p. 479.

[267] See the treaty, in Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, (Amsterdam, 1728,)
tom. V. p. 31.

[268] Garnier, Histoire de France, tom. XXVII. p. 570.

[269] "Mettez-moi, sire, dans la plus mauvaise des places qu'on vous
propose d'abandonner, et que vos ennemis tâchent de m'en déloger."
Gaillard, Rivalité de la France et d'Espagne, tom. V. p. 294.

[270] Garnier, Histoire de France, tom. XXVII. p. 567.

[271] "Pour tant de restitutions ou de concessions que revenoit-il à la
France? moins de places qu'elle ne cédoit de provinces." Gaillard,
Rivalité de la France et d'Espagne, tom. V. p. 292.

[272] Charles the Fifth, who in his monastic seclusion at Yuste, might
naturally have felt more scruples at a collision with Rome than when, in
earlier days, he held the pope a prisoner in his capital, decidedly
approved of his son's course. It was a war of necessity, he said, in a
letter to Juan Vazquez de Molina, and Philip would stand acquitted of
the consequences before God and man.

"Pues no se puede hazer otra cosa, y el Rey se ha justificado en tantas
maneras cumpliendo con Dios y el mundo, por escusar los daños que dello
se seguiran, forzado sera usar del ultimo remedio." Carta del Emperador
á Juan Vazquez de Molina, 8 de Agosto, 1557, MS.

[273] "Il nous a semblé mieulx de leur dire rondement, que combien
vostre majesté soit tousjours esté dure et difficile à recepvoir
persuasions pour se remarier, que toutesfois, aiant représenté à icelle
le désir du roi très-chrestien et le bien que de ce mariage pourra
succéder, et pour plus promptement consolider ceste union et paix, elle
s'estoit résolue, pour monstrer sa bonne et syncère affection, d'y
condescendre franchement." Granvelle, Papiers d'Etat, tom. V. p. 580.

[274] "El Conde la dijo, que aunque las negativas habían sido en cierto
modo indirectas, él no habia querido apurarla hasta el punto de decir
redondamente que no, por no dar motivo à indignaciones entre dos tan
grandes Príncipes." Mem. de la Academia, tom. VII. p. 268.

[275] "Osservando egli l'usanza Francese nel baciar tutte l'altre Dame
di Corte, nell'arriuar alla futura sua Reina, non solo intermise quella
famigliare cerimonia, ma non uolle nè anche giamai coprirsi la testa,
per istanza, che da lei ne gli fusse fatta; il che fu notato per
nobilissimo, e degno atto di creäza Spagnuola." Campana, Filippo
Secondo, parte II. lib. 11.

[276] The work of extermination was to cover more ground than Henry's
capital or country, if we may take the word of the English
commissioners, who, in a letter dated January, 1559, advised the queen,
their mistress, that "there was an appoinctment made betwene the late
pope, the French king, and the king of Spaine, for the joigning of their
forces together for the suppression of religion, ... th'end whereof was
to constraine the rest of christiendome, being Protestants, to receive
the pope's authorité and his religione." (Forbes, State Papers, vol. I.
p. 296.) Without direct evidence of such a secret understanding,
intimations of it, derived from other sources, may be found in more than
one passage of this history.

[277] Brantôme, who repays the favors he had received from Henry the
Second by giving him a conspicuous place in his gallery of portraits,
eulogizes his graceful bearing in the tourney and his admirable
horsemanship.

"Mais sur tout ils l'admiroient fort en sa belle grace qu'il avoit en
ses armes et à cheval; comme de vray, c'estoit le prince du monde qui
avait la meilleure grace et la plus belle tenuë, et qui sçavoit aussi
bien monstrer la vertu et bonté d'un cheval, et en cacher le vice."
Œuvres tom. II. p. 353.

[278] Ibid, p. 351.--De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. III. p.
367.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 20.--Campagna Filippo
Secondo, parte II. lib. 11.--Forbes, State Papers, vol. I. p. 151.

[279] The English commissioner, Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, bears
testimony to the popularity of Henry.--"Their was marvailous great
lamentation made for him, and weaping of all sorts, both men and women."
Forbes, State Papers, vol. I. p. 151.

[280] This pleasing anticipation is not destined to be realised. Since
the above was written, in the summer of 1851, the cloister life of
Charles the Fifth, then a virgin topic, has become a thrice-told
tale,--thanks to the labors of Mr. Stirling, M. Amédée Pichot, and M.
Mignet; while the publication of the original documents from Simancas,
by M. Gachard, will put it in the power of every scholar to verify their
statements.--See the postscript at the end of this chapter.

[281] Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II. p. 611.

[282] "Una sola silla de caderas, que mas era media silla, tan vieja y
ruyn que si se pusiera en venta no dieran por ella quatro reales."
Ibid., tom. II. p. 610.--See also El Perfecto Desengaño, por el Marqués
de Valparayso, MS.

The latter writer, in speaking of the furniture, uses precisely the same
language, with the exception of a single word, as Sandoval. Both claim
to have mainly derived their account of the cloister life of Charles the
Fifth from the prior of Yuste, Fray Martin de Angulo. The authority,
doubtless, is of the highest value, as the prior, who witnessed the
closing scenes of Charles's life, drew up his relation for the
information of the Regent Joanna, and at her request. Why the good
father should have presented his hero in such a poverty-stricken aspect,
it is not easy to say. Perhaps he thought it would redound to the credit
of the emperor, that he should have been willing to exchange the
splendors of a throne for a life of monkish mortification.

[283] The reader will find an extract from the inventory of the royal
jewels, plate, furniture, &c, in Stirling's Cloister Life of Charles the
Fifth, (London, 1852,) Appendix, and in Pichot's Chronique de
Charles-Quint, (Paris, 1854,) p. 537 et seq.

[284] Mignet has devoted a couple of pages to an account of this
remarkable picture of which an engraving is still extant, executed under
the eyes of Titian himself. Charles-Quint, pp. 214, 215.

[285] Vera y Figueroa, Vida y Hechos de Carlos V., p. 127.

A writer in Fraser's Magazine for April and May, 1851, has not omitted
to notice this remarkable picture, in two elaborate articles on the
cloister life of Charles the Fifth. They are evidently the fruit of a
careful study of the best authorities, some of them not easy of access
to the English student. The author has collected some curious
particulars in respect to the persons who accompanied the emperor in his
retirement; and on the whole, though he seems not to have been aware of
the active interest which Charles took in public affairs, he has
presented by far the most complete view of this interesting portion of
the imperial biography that has yet been given to the world.

[I suffer this note to remain as originally written, before the
publication of Mr. Stirling's "Cloister Life" had revealed him as the
author of these spirited essays.]

[286] Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II. p. 610.--Siguença, Historia
de la Orden de San Geronimo, (Madrid, 1595-1605,) parte III. p.
190.--Ford, Handbook of Spain, (London, 1845,) p. 551.

Of the above authorities, Father Siguença has furnished the best account
of the emperor's little domain as it was in his day, and Ford as it is
in our own.

[287] See the eloquent conclusion of Stirling's Cloister Life of Charles
the Fifth.

Ford, in his admirable Handbook, which may serve as a manual for the
student of Spanish in his closet, quite as well as for the traveller in
Spain, has devoted a few columns to a visit which he paid to this
sequestered spot, where, as he says, the spirit of the mighty dead
seemed to rule again in his last home. A few lines from the pages of the
English tourist will bring the scene more vividly before the reader than
the colder description in the text. "As the windows were thrown wide
open to admit the cool thyme-scented breeze, the eye in the clear
evening swept over the boundless valley; and the nightingales sang
sweetly, in the neglected orange-garden, to the bright stars reflected
like diamonds in the black tank below us. How often had Charles looked
out, on a stilly eve, on this selfsame and unchanged scene, where he
alone was now wanting!" Handbook of Spain, p. 553.

[288] Carta de Martin de Gaztelu al Secretario Vazquez, 5 de Febrero,
1557, MS.

[289] Their names and vocations are specified in the codicil executed by
Charles a few days before his death. See the document entire, ap.
Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II. p. 662.

A more satisfactory list has been made out by the indefatigable Gachard
from various documents which he collected, and which have furnished him
with the means of correcting the orthography of Sandoval, miserably
deficient in respect to Flemish names. See Retraite et Mort de
Charles-Quint, tom. I. p. 1.

[290] "Las vistas de las pieças de su magestad no son muy largas, sino
cortas, y las que se véen, o es una montaña de piedras grandes, ó unos
montes de robles no muy altos. Campo llano no le ay, ni como podesse
pasear, que sea por un camino estrecho y lleno de piedra. Rio yo no vi
ninguno, sino un golpe de agua que baza de la montana: huerta en casa ay
una pequeña y de pocos naranjos....... El aposento baxo no es nada
alegre, sino muy triste, y como es tan baxo, creo será humido.......
Esto es lo que me parece del aposento y sitio de la casa y grandissima
soledad." Carta de Luis Quixada á Juan Vazquez, 30 de Noviembre, 1556,
MS.

The major-domo concludes by requesting Vazquez not to show it to his
mistress, Joanna, the regent, as he would not be thought to run counter
to the wishes of the emperor in anything.

[291] "Plegue á Dios que los pueda sufrir, que no será poco, segun
suelen ser todos muy importunos, y mas los que saben menos." Carta de
Martin de Gaztelu, MS.

[292] "Llamando al Emperador _paternidad_, de que luego fué advertido de
otro frayle que estava á su lado, y acudió con _magestad_." Ibid.

[293] "Emperador semper augusto de Alemania."

[294] His teeth seem to have been in hardly better condition than his
fingers.--"Era amigo de cortarse el mismo lo que comia, aunque ni tenia
buenas ni desembueltas las manos, ni los dientes." Siguença, Orden de
San Geronimo, parte III. p. 192.

[295] De Thou, Hist. Universelle, tom. III. p. 293.

[296] "Quando comia, leya el confesor una leccion de San Augustin." El
Perfecto Desengaño, MS.

[297] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 15.--Vera y Figueroa, Vida y
Hechos de Carlos V., p. 123.--Siguença, Orden de San Geronimo, parte
III. p. 195.

The last writer is minute in his notice of the imperial habits and
occupations at Yuste. Siguença was prior of the Escorial; and in that
palace-monastery of the Jeronymites he must have had the means of
continually conversing with several of his brethren who had been with
Charles in his retirement. His work, which appeared at the beginning of
the following century, has become rare,--so rare that M. Gachard was
obliged to content himself with a few manuscript extracts, from the
difficulty of procuring the printed original. I was fortunate enough to
obtain a copy, and a very fine one, through my booksellers, Messrs.
Rich, Brothers, London,--worthy sons of a sire who for thirty years or
more stood preëminent for sagacity and diligence among the collectors of
rare and valuable books.

[298] "Mandò pregonar en los lugares comarcanos que so pena de cien
açotes muger alguna no passasse de un humilladero que estasa como dos
tiros de ballesta del Monasterio." Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V., tom.
II. p. 612; and Sandoval's _double_, Valparayso, El Perfecto Desengaño,
MS.

[299] "Si alguno se errava dezía consigo mismo: O _hideputa bermejo_,
que aquel erro, ò otro nombre semejante." Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V.,
tom. II. p. 613.

I will not offend ears polite by rendering it in English into
corresponding Billingsgate. It is but fair to state that the author of
the Perfecto Desengaño puts no such irreverent expression into Charles's
mouth. Both, however, profess to follow the MS. of the Prior Angulo.

[300] "Non aspernatur exercitationes campestres, in quem usum paratam
habet tormentariam rhedam, ad essedi speciem, præcellenti arte, et miro
studio proximis hisce mensibus a se constructam." Lettres sur la Vie
Intérieure de l'Empereur Charles-Quint, écrites par Guillaume van Male,
gentilhomme de sa chambre, et publiées, pour la première fois, par le
Baron de Reiffenberg, (Bruxelles, 1843, 4to,) ep. 8.

[301] "Interdum ligneos passerculos emisit cubículo volantes
revolantesque." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 15.

[302] Ford, Handbook of Spain, p. 552.

[303] "A nemine, ne a proceribus quidem quacumque ex causa se adiri, aut
conveniri, nisi ægre admodum patiebatur." Sepulveda, Opera, tom. II. p.
541.

[304] "Le hizo mas preguntas que se pudieran hazer á la donzella
Theodor, de que todo dió buena razon y de lo que vió yoy ó en Francia,
provisiones de obispados, cargos de Italia, y de la infantería y
caballeria, artilleria, gastadores, armas de mano y de otras cosas."
Carta de Martin de Gaztelu á Juan Vazquez, 18 de Mayo, 1558, MS.

[305] "Retirose tanto de los negocios del Reyno y cosas de govierno,
como si jamas uviera tenido parte en ellos." Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos
V., tom. II. p. 614.--See also Valparayso, (El Perfecto Desengaño, MS.,)
who uses the same words, probably copying Angulo, unless, indeed, we
suppose him to have stolen from Sandoval.

[306] "Ut neque aurum, quod ingenti copia per id tempus Hispana classis
illi advexit ab India, neque strepitus bellorum, ... quidquam potuerint
animum ilium flectere, tot retro annis assuetum armorum sono."--Strada,
De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 14.

[307] It is singular that Sepulveda, who visited Charles in his retreat,
should have been the only historian, as far as I am aware, who
recognized the truth of this fact, so perfectly established by the
letters from Yuste.--"Summis enim rebus, ut de bello et pace se consuli,
deque fratris, liberorum et sororum salute, et statu rerum certiorem
fieri non recusabat." Opera, tom. II. p. 541.

[308] "Supplicando con toda humildad e instancia á su Magestad tenga por
bien de esforzarse en esta coyuntura, socorréindome y ayudandome, no
solo con su parecer y consejo que es el mayor caudal que puedo tener,
pero con la presencia de su persona y autoridad, saliendo del
monasterio, á la parte y lugar que mas comodo sea á su salud." Retiro,
Estancia, etc., ap. Mignet, Charles-Quint, p. 256, note.

[309] "Siempre, en estas cosas, pregunta si no hay mas." Carta de Martin
de Gaztelu á Juan Vazquez, 8 de Noviembre, 1556, MS.

[310] "Pues no se puede hazer otra cosa, y el Rey se ha justificado en
tantas maneras cumpliendo con Dios y el mundo, por escusar los daños que
dello se seguiran, forzado sera usar del ultimo remedio." Carta del
Emperador á Vazquez, 8 de Agosto, 1557, MS.

[311] "Del Papa y de Caraffa se siente aquí que no haya llegado la nueva
de que se han muerto." Carta de Martin de Gaztelu á Juan Vazquez, 8 de
Noviembre, 1556, MS.

[312] "Sobre que su magestad dizo algunas cosas con mas colera de la que
para su salud conviene." Carta de Martin de Gaztelu á Juan Vazquez, 10
de Enero, 1558, MS.

[313] See, in particular, Carta del Emperador á Su Alteza, 4 de Febrero,
1558. MS.

[314] "Su Magestad está con mucho cuidado por saber que camino ará
tomado el Rey despues de acabada aquella empresa." Carta de Luis de
Quixada á Juan Vazquez, 27 de Setiembre, 1557, MS.

[315] Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 11.

Whether Charles actually made the remark or not, it is clear from a
letter in the Gonzalez collection that this was uppermost in his
thoughts.--"Su Magestad tenia gran deseo de saber que partido tomaba el
rey su hijo despues de la victoria, y que estaba impacientissimo
formando cuentas de que ya deberia estar sobre Paris." Carta de Quixada,
10 de Setiembre, 1557, ap. Mignet, Charles-Quint, p. 279.

It is singular that this interesting letter is neither in M. Gachard's
collection nor in that made for me from the same sources.

[316] Cartas del Emperador á Juan Vazquez, de Setiembre 27 y Octubre 31,
1557, MS.

[317] The Emperor intimates his wishes in regard to his grandson's
succession in a letter addressed, at a later period, to Philip. (Carta
del Emperador al Rey, 31 de Marzo, 1558, MS.) But a full account of the
Portuguese mission is given by Cienfuegos, Vida de S. Francisco de
Borja, (Barcelona, 1754,) p. 269. The person employed by Charles in this
delicate business was no other than his friend Francisco Borja, the
ex-duke of Gandia, who, like himself, had sought a retreat from the
world in the shades of the cloister. The biographers who record the
miracles and miraculous virtues of the sainted Jesuit, bestow several
chapters on his visits to Yuste. His conversations with the emperor are
reported with a minuteness that Boswell might have envied, and which may
well provoke our scepticism, unless we suppose them to have been
reported by Borja himself. One topic much discussed in them was the
merits of the order which the emperor's friend had entered. It had not
then risen to that eminence which, under its singular discipline, it
subsequently reached; and Charles would fain have persuaded his visitor
to abandon it for the Jeronymite society with which he was established.
But Borja seems to have silenced, if not satisfied, his royal master, by
arguments which prove that his acute mind already discerned the germ of
future greatness in the institutions of the new order.--Ibid., pp.
273-279.--Ribadeneira, Vita Francisci Borgiæ, (Lat. trans., Antverpiæ,
1598,) p. 110 et seq.

[318] Carta del Emperador al Rey, 25 de Mayo, 1558, MS.

On the margin of this letter we find the following memoranda of Philip
himself, showing how much importance he attached to his father's
interposition in this matter. "Volvérselo a suplicar con gran instancia,
pues quedamos in tales términos que, si me ayudan con dinero, los
podríamos atraer à lo que conviniesse." "Besalle las manos por lo que en
esto ha mandado y suplicalle lo lleve adelante y que de acá se hará lo
mismo, y avisarle de lo que se han hecho hasta agora."

[319] Carta del Emperador á Juan Vazquez, 31 de Marzo, 1557, MS.

[320] Carta del Emperador á la Princesa, 31 de Marzo, 1557, MS.--The
whole letter is singularly characteristic of Charles. Its authoritative
tone shows that, though he had parted with the crown, he had not parted
with the temper of a sovereign, and of an absolute sovereign too.

[321] "Es tal su indignacion y tan sangrientas las palabras y vehemencia
con que manda escribir á v.m. que me disculpará sino lo hago con mas
templança y modo." Carta de Martin de Gaztelu á Juan Vazquez, 12 de
Mayo, 1557, MS.

[322] "His majesty was so well," writes Gaztelu, early in the summer of
1557, "that he could rise from his seat, and support his arquebuse,
without aid." He could even do some mischief with his fowling-piece to
the wood-pigeons. Carta de Gaztelu, á Vazquez, 5 de Junio, 1557, MS.

[323] "Porque desde tantos de noviembre hasta pocos dias hame ha dado
[la gota] tres vezes y muy rezio, y me ha tenido muchos días en la cama,
y hestado hasta de poco acá tan trabajado y flaco que en toda esta
quaresma no he podido oyr un sermon, y esto es la causa porque no os
escribo esta de mi mano." Carta del Emperador al Rey, 7 de Abril, 1558,
MS.

[324] "Sintiólo cierto mucho, y se le arrasáron los ojos, y me dijo lo
mucho que él y la de Francia se habian siempre querido, y por cuan buena
cristiana la tenia, y que le llevaba quince meses de tiempo, y que,
según él se iba sintiendo, de poco acá podria ser que dentro de ellos le
hiciese compañía." Carta de Gaztelu á Vazquez, 21 de Febrero, 1558, ap.
Gachard, Retraite et Mort, tom. I, p. 270.--See also Mignet,
Charles-Quint, p. 339.

[325] "Y que para ello les deis y mandeis dar todo el favor y calor que
fuere necenario y para que los que fueren culpados sean punidos y
castigados con la demostracion y rigor que la cualidad de sus culpas
mereceran y esto sin exception de persona alguna." Carta del Emperador á
la Princesa, 3 de Mayo, 1558, MS.

[326] "No se si toviera sufrimiento para no salir de aqui arremediallo."
Carta del Emperador á la Princesa, 25 de Mayo, 1568, MS.

[327] The history of this affair furnishes a good example of the
_crescit eundo_. The author of the MS. discovered by M. Bakhuizen,
noticed more fully in the next note, though present at the ceremony,
contents himself with a general outline of it. Siguença, who follows
next in time and in authority, tells us of the lighted candle which
Charles delivered to the priest. Strada, who wrote a generation later,
concludes the scene by leaving the emperor in a swoon upon the floor.
Lastly, Robertson, after making the emperor perform in his shroud, lays
him in his coffin, where, after joining in the prayers for the rest of
his own soul, not yet departed, he is left by the monks to his
meditations!--Where Robertson got all these particulars it would not be
easy to tell; certainly not from the authorities cited at the bottom of
his page.

[328] "Et j'assure que le cœur nous fendait de voir qu'un homme voulût
en quelque sorte s'enterrer vivant, et faire ses obsèques avant de
mourir." Gachard, Retraite et Mort, tom. I. p lvi.

M. Gachard has given a translation of the chapter relating to the
funeral, from a curious MS. account of Charles's convent life,
discovered by M. Bakhuizen in the archives at Brussels. As the author
was one of the brotherhood who occupied the convent at the time of the
emperor's residence there, the MS. is stamped with the highest
authority; and M. Gachard will doubtless do a good service to letters by
incorporating it in the second volume of his "Retraite et Mort."

[329] Siguença, Hist. de la Orden de San Geronimo, parte III. pp. 200,
201.

Siguença's work, which combines much curious learning with a simple
elegance of style, was the fruit of many years of labor. The third
volume, containing the part relating to the emperor, appeared in 1605,
the year before the death of its author, who, as already noticed, must
have had daily communication with several of the monks, when, after
Charles's death, they had been transferred from Yuste to the gloomy
shades of the Escorial.

[330] Such, for example, were Vera y Figueroa, Conde de la Roca, whose
little volume appeared in 1613; Strada, who wrote some twenty years
later; and the marquis of Valparayso, whose MS. is dated 1638. I say
nothing of Sandoval, often quoted as authority for the funeral, for, as
he tells us that the money which the emperor proposed to devote to a
mock funeral was after all appropriated to his real one, it would seem
to imply that the former never took place.

It were greatly to be wished that the MS. of Fray Martin de Angulo could
be detected and brought to light. As prior of Yuste while Charles was
there, his testimony would be invaluable. Both Sandoval and the marquis
of Valparayso profess to have relied mainly on Angulo's authority. Yet
in this very affair of the funeral they disagree.

[331] Siguença's composition may be characterized as _simplex
munditiis_. The MS. of the monk of Yuste, found in Brussels, is stamped,
says M. Gachard, with the character of simplicity and truth. Retraite et
Mort, tom. I. p. xx.

[332] Mignet, Charles-Quint, p. 1.

[333] "Estuvo un poco contemplandole, devia de pedirle, que le
previniesse lugar en el Alcazar glorioso que habitava." Vera y Figueroa,
Carlos Quinto, p. 127.

[334] This famous picture, painted in the artist's best style, forms now
one of the noblest ornaments of the Museo of Madrid. See Ford, Handbook
of Spain, p. 758.

[335] For the above account of the beginning of Charles's illness, see
Siguença, Orden de San Geronimo, parte III. p. 201; Vera y Figueroa,
Carlos Quinto, p. 127; Valparayso, el Perfecto Desengaño, MS.

[336] Vera y Figueroa, Carlos Quinto, p. 127.--Siguença, Orden de San
Geronimo, parte III. p. 201.--Carta de Luis Quixada al Rey, 17 de
Setiembre, 1558, MS.

[337] The Regent Joanna, it seems, suspected, for some reason or other,
that the boy in Quixada's care was in fact the emperor's son. A few
weeks after her father's death she caused a letter to be addressed to
the major-domo, asking him directly if this were the case, and
intimating a desire to make a suitable provision for the youth. The wary
functionary, who tells this in his private correspondence with Philip,
endeavored to put the regent off the scent by stating that the lad was
the son of a friend, and that, as no allusion had been made to him in
the emperor's will, there could be no foundation for the rumor. "Ser
ansy que yo tenya un muchacho de hun caballero amygo myo que me abia
encomendado años a, y que pues S. M. en su testamento ni codecilyo, no
azia memorya del, que hera razon tenello por burla." Carta de Luis
Quixada al Rey, 28 de Noviembre, 1558, MS.

[338] Codicilo del Emperador, ap. Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II.
p. 657.

[339] "Si bien no sea necessario no os parece, que es buena compañía
para jornada tan larga." Ibid., p. 617.

[340] Carta sobre los últimos momentos del Emperador Carlos V., escrita
en Yuste, el 27 de Setiembre, 1558, ap. Documentos Inéditos, tom. VI. p.
668.

[341] Carta de Luis Quixada á Juan Vazquez, 25 de Setiembre, 1558,
MS.--Carta del mismo al Rey, 30 de Setiembre, 1558, MS.--Carta del
Arzobispo de Toledo á la Princesa, 21 de Setiembre, 1558, MS.

[342] "Tomo la candela en la mano derecha la qual yo tenya y con la
yzquyerda tomo el crucifixo deziendo, ya es tiempo, y con dezir Jesus
acabo." Carta de Luis Quixada á Juan Vazquez, 25 de Setiembre, 1558, MS.

For the accounts of this death-bed scene, see Carta del mismo al mismo,
21 de Setiembre, MS.--Carta del mismo al Rey, 21 de Setiembre,
MS.--Carta del mismo al mismo, 30 de Setiembre, MS.--Carta del Arzobispo
de Toledo á la Princesa, 21 de Setiembre, MS.--Carta del Medico del
Emperador (Henrico Matisio) á Juan Vazquez, 21 de Setiembre, MS.--Carta
sobre los ultimos momentos del Emperador, 27 de Setiembre, ap.
Documentos Inéditos, vol. VI. p. 667.--Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V.,
tom. II. p. 618.

The MSS. referred to may now be all found in the printed collection of
Gachard.

[343] "Temiendo siempre no lo poder tener en aquel tiempo." Carta de
Luis Quixada al Rey, 30 de Setiembre, MS.

[344] Documentos Inéditos, tom. VI. p. 669.

[345] Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II. p. 620.

[346] At least, such were the images suggested to my mind, as I wandered
through the aisles of this fine old cathedral, on a visit which I made
to Brussels a few years since,--in the summer of 1850. Perhaps the
reader will excuse, as germaine to this matter, a short sketch relating
to it, from one of my letters written on the spot to a distant friend:--

"Then the noble cathedral of Brussels, dedicated to one Saint
Gudule,--the superb organ filling its long aisles with the most
heart-thrilling tones, as the voices of the priests, dressed in their
rich robes of purple and gold, rose in a chant that died away in the
immense vaulted distance of the cathedral. It was the service of the
dead, and the coffin of some wealthy burgher probably, to judge from its
decorations, was in the choir. A number of persons were kneeling and
saying their prayers in rapt attention, little heeding the Protestant
strangers who were curiously gazing at the pictures and statues with
which the edifice was filled. I was most struck with one poor woman, who
was kneeling before the shrine of the saint, whose marble corpse,
covered by a decent white gauze veil, lay just before her, separated
only by a light railing. The setting sun was streaming in through the
rich colored panes of the magnificent windows, that rose from the floor
to the ceiling of the cathedral, some hundred feet in height. The glass
was of the time of Charles the Fifth, and I soon recognized his familiar
face,--the protruding jaw of the Austrian line. As I heard the glorious
anthem rise up to heaven in this time-honored cathedral, which had
witnessed generation after generation melt away, and which now
displayed, in undying colors, the effigies of those who had once
worshipped within its walls, I was swept back to a distant period, and
felt I was a contemporary of the grand old times when Charles the Fifth
held the chapters of the Golden Fleece in this very building."

[347] "De Rege vero Cæsare ajunt, qui ab eo veniunt, barbatum jam esse."
Petri Martyris Opus Epistolarum, (Amstelodami, 1670, fol.,) ep. 734.

[348] In this outline of the character of Charles the Fifth, I have not
hesitated to avail myself of the masterly touches which Ranke has given
to the portrait of this monarch, in the introduction to that portion of
his great work on the nations of Southern Europe which he has devoted to
Spain.

[349] "Qualche fiate io son fermo in le cattive." Contarini, cited by
Ranke, Ottoman and Spanish Empires, p. 29.

[350] See Bradford, Correspondence of the Emperor Charles the Fifth and
his Ambassadors at the Courts of England and France, with a connecting
Narrative and Biographical Notices of the Emperor, (London, 1850,) p.
367,--a work which contains some interesting particulars, little known,
respecting Charles the Fifth.

[351] "Nel mangiare ha S. Maestà sempre eccesso...... La mattina
svegliata ella pigliava una scodella di pesto cappone con latte,
zucchero et spezierie, popoi il quale tornava a riposare. A mezzo giorno
desinava molte varietà di vivande, et poco da poi vespro merendava, et
all'hora di notte se n'andava alla cena mangiando cose tutte da generare
humori grossi et viscosi." Badovaro, Notizie delli Stati et Corti di
Carlo Quinto Imperatore et del Re Cattolico, MS.

[352] "Disse una volta al Maggior-domo Monfalconetto con sdegno,
ch'aveva corrotto il giudicio a dare ordine a'cuochi, perche tutti i
cibi erano insipidi, dal quale le fu risposto: Non so come dovere
trovare pin modi da compiacere alla maestà V. se io non fo prova di
farle una nuova vivanda di pottaggio di rogoli, il che la mosse a quel
maggiore et più lungo riso che sia mai stato veduto in lei." Ibid.

[353] Briefe an Kaiser Karl V., geschrieben von seinem Beichtvater,
(Berlin, 1848,) p. 159 et al.

These letters of Charles's confessor, which afford some curious
particulars for the illustration of the early period of his history, are
preserved in the archives of Simancas. The edition above referred to
contains the original Castilian, accompanied by a German translation.

[354] "Si hallais," said the royal author with a degree of humility
rarely found in brethren of the craft, "que alguna vanidad secreta puede
mover la pluma (que siempre es prodigioso Panegerista en causa propria),
la arrojaré de la mano al punto, para dar al viento lo que es del
viento." Cienfuegos, Vida de Borja, p. 269.

[355] "Factus est anagnostes insatiabilis, audit legentem me singulis
noctibus facta cœnula sua, mox librum repeti jubet, si forte ipsum
torquet insomnia." Lettres sur la Vie Intérieure de Charles-Quint,
écrites par G. Van Male, ep. 7.

[356] "Scripsi ... liberalissimas ejus occupationes in navigatione
fluminis Rheni, dum ocii occasione invitatus, scriberet in navi
peregrinationes et expeditiones quas ab anno XV. in præsentem usque
diem, suscepisset." Ibid., ep. 5.

[357] "Statui novum quoddam scribendi temperatum effingere, mixtum ex
Livio, Cæsare, Suetonio, et Tacito." Ibid.

[358] At the emperor's death, these Memoirs were in possession of Van
Male, who afterwards used to complain, with tears in his eyes, that
Quixada had taken them away from him. But he remembered enough of their
contents, he said, to make out another life of his master, which he
intended to do. (Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VI. p. 29.) Philip,
thinking that Van Male might have carried his intention into execution,
ordered Granvelle to hunt among his papers, after the poor gentleman's
death, and if he found any such MS. to send it to him, that he might
throw it into the fire! (Ibid., p. 273.) Philip, in his tenderness for
his father's memory, may have thought that no man could be a hero to his
own valet-de-chambre. On searching, however, no memoirs were found.

[359] "Bono jure, ait, fructus ille ad Gulielmum redeat, ut qui plurimum
in opere illo sudarit." Ibid., ep. 6.

[360] "Ne in proemio quidem passus est ullam solertiæ suæ laudem
adscribí." Ibid.

Van Male's Latin correspondence, from which this amusing incident is
taken, was first published by the Baron Reiffenberg for the society of
_Bibliophiles Belgiques_, at Brussels, in 1843. It contains some
interesting notices of Charles the Fifth's personal habits during the
five years preceding his abdication. Van Male accompanied his master
into his retirement; and his name appears in the codicil, among those of
the household who received pensions from the emperor. This doubtless
stood him in more stead than his majesty's translation, which, although
it passed through several editions in the course of the century,
probably put little money into the pocket of the chamberlain, who died
in less than two years after his master.

A limited edition only of Van Male's correspondence was printed, for the
benefit of the members of the association. For the copy used by me, I am
indebted to Mr. Van de Weyer, the accomplished Belgian minister at the
English court, whose love of letters is shown not more by the library he
has formed--one of the noblest private collections in Europe--than by
the liberality with which he accords the use of it to the student.

[361] Paulo Giovio got so little in return for his honeyed words, that
his eyes were opened to a new trait in the character of Charles, whom he
afterwards stigmatized as parsimonious. See Sepulveda, De Rebus Gestis
Caroli V., lib. XXX. p. 534.

[362] "Haud mihi gratum est legere vel audire quæ de me scribuntur;
legent alii cum ipse a vita discessero; tu siquid ex me scire cupis,
percunctare, nec enim respondere gravabor." Ibid., p. 533.

[363] Charles, however willing he might be to receive those strangers
who brought him news from foreign parts, was not very tolerant, as the
historian tells us, of visits of idle ceremony. Ibid., p. 541.

[364] Carta del Emperador al Secretario Vazquez, 9 de Julio, 1558, MS.

[365] "Si me hallara con fuerças y dispusicion de podello hacer tambien
procurara de enforçarme en este caso á tomar cualquier trabajo para
procurar por mi parte el remedio y castigo de lo sobre dicho sin embargo
de los que por ello he padescido." Carta del Emperador á la Princesa, 3
de Mayo, 1558, MS.

[366] "Yo erré en no matar a Luthero, ... porque yo no era obligado á
guardalle la palabra por ser la culpa del hereje contra otro mayor
Señor, que era Dios." Sandoval, Hist. de Carlos V., tom. II. p. 613.

See also Vera y Figueroa, Carlos Quinto, p. 124.

[367] "Vocatur quoque synechdochice, per universam ferme Europam,
Flandria, idque ob ejus Provinciæ potentiam atque splendorem: quamvis
sint, qui contendant, vocabulum ipsum Flandria, à frequenti exterorum in
ea quondam Provincia mercatorum commercio, derivatum, atque inde in
omnes partes diffusum; alii rursus, quod hæc ipsa Flandria, strictius
sumta, Gallis, Anglis, Hispanis, atque Italis sit vicinior, ideoque et
notior simul et celebrior, totam Belgiam eo nomine indigitatam
perhibent." Guicciardini, Belgicæ, sive Inferioris Germaniæ Descriptio,
(Amstelodami, 1652,) p. 6.

[368] These provinces were the duchies of Brabant, Limburg, Luxembourg,
and Gueldres; the counties of Artois, Hainault, Flanders, Namur,
Zütphen, Holland, and Zealand; the margraviate of Antwerp; and the
lordships of Friesland, Mechlin, Utrecht, Overyssel, and Groningen.

[369] Basnage, Annales des Provinces-Unies, avec la Description
Historique de leur Gouvernement, (La Haye, 1719,) tom. I. p.
3.--Guicciardini, Belgicæ Descriptio, p. 81 et seq.

The Venetian minister Tiepolo warmly commends the loyalty of these
people to their princes, not to be shaken so long as their
constitutional privileges were respected. "Sempre si le sono mostrati
quei Popoli molto affettionati, et amorevoli contentandosi de esser
gravati senza che mai facesse alcun resentimento forte più de l'honesto.
Ma così come in questa parte sempre hanno mostrato la sua prontezza così
sono stati duri et difficili, che ponto le fossero sminuiti li loro
privilegii et autorità, nè che ne iloro stati s'introducessero nuove
leggi, et nuova ordini ad instantia massime, et perricordo di gente
straniera." Relatione di M. A. Tiepolo, ritornato Ambasciatore dal Sermo
Rè Cattolico, 1567, MS.

[370] Basnage, Annales des Provinces-Unies, tom. I. p. 8.

[371] Ibid., loc. cit.--Bentivoglio, Guerra di Fiandra, (Milano, 1806,)
p. 9 et seq.--Ranke, Spanish Empire, p. 79.

The last writer, with his usual discernment, has selected the particular
facts that illustrate most forcibly the domestic policy of the
Netherlands under Charles the Fifth.

[372] "Urbes in ea sive mœnibus clausæ, sive clausis magnitudine
propemodum pares, supra trecentas et quinquaginta censeantur; pagi verò
majores ultra sex millia ac trecentos numerentur, ut nihil de minoribus
vicis arcibusque loquar, quibus supra omnem numerum consitus est
Belgicus ager." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 32.

[373] Guicciardini, Belgicæ Descriptio, p. 207 et seq.

The geographer gives us the population of several of the most
considerable capitals in Europe in the middle of the sixteenth century.
That of Paris, amounting to 300,000, seems to have much exceeded that of
every other great city except Moscow.

[374] "Atque hinc adeo fit, ut isti opera sua ea dexteritate,
facilitate, ordineque disponant, ut et parvuli, ac quadriennes modo aut
quinquennes eorum filioli, victum illico sibi incipiant quærere."
Guicciardini, Belgicæ Descriptio, p. 55.

[375] Relatione di M. Cavallo tornato Ambasciatore dal Imperatore, 1551,
MS.

The ambassador does not hesitate to compare Antwerp, for the extent of
its commerce, to his own proud city of Venice. "Anversa corrisponde di
mercantia benissimo a Venetia, Lavania di studio a Padova, Gante per
grandezza a Verona, Brussellis per il sito a Brescia."

[376] "Liquido enim constat, eorum, anno annum pensante, et carisæis
aliisque panniculis ad integros pannos reductis, ducenta et amplius
millia annuatim nobis distribui, quorum singuli minimum æstimentur
vicenis quinis scutatis, ita ut in quinque et amplius milliones ratio
tandem excrescat." Guicciardini, Belgicæ Descriptio, p. 244.

[377] "Quæ verò ignota marium litora, quásve desinentis mundi oras
scrutata non est Belgarum nautica? Nimirum quantò illos natura intra
fines terræ contractiores inclusit, tantò ampliores ipsi sibi aperuere
oceani campos." Strada, De Bello Belgico, lib. I. p. 32.

[378] Schiller, Abfall der Niederlande, (Stuttgart, 1838,) p. 44.

[379] Ibid., ubi supra.

[380] Burgon, Life of Sir Thomas Gresham, (London, 1839,) vol. I. p. 72.

[381] "In quorum (Brabantinorum) Provinciam scimus transferre se solitas
e vicinis locis parituras mulieres, ut Brabantinas immunitates filiis eo
solo genitis acquierent, crederes ab agricolis eligi plantaría, in
quibus enatæ arbusculæ, primoque illo terræ velut ab ubere lactentes,
aliò dein secum auferant dotes hospitalis soli." Strada, De Bello
Belgico, lib. II. p. 61.

[382] Histoire des Provinces-Unies des Païs-Bas, (La Haye, 1704,) tom.
I. p. 88

[383] Guicciardini, Belgicæ Descriptio, p. 225 et seq.

[384] "Ut in multis terræ Provinciis, Hollandia nominatim atque
Zelandia, viri omnium fere rerum suarum curam uxoribus sæpe relinquant."
Ibid., p. 58.

[385] "Majori gentis parti nota Grammaticæ rudimenta, et vel ipsi etiam
rustici legendi scribendique periti sunt." Ibid., p. 53.

Guicciardini, who states this remarkable fact, had ample opportunity for
ascertaining the truth of it, since, though an Italian by birth, he
resided in the Netherlands for forty years or more.

[386] Schiller, Abfall der Niederlande, p. 53.--Vandervynckt, Histoire
des Troubles des Pays-Bas, (Bruxelles, 1822,) tom. II. p. 6.--Groen Van
Prinsterer, Archives ou Correspondance Inédite de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, (Leide, 1841,) tom. I. p. 164*

[387] The whole number of "placards" issued by Charles the Fifth
amounted to eleven. See the dates in Gachard, Correspondance de Philippe
II. sur les Affaires des Pays-Bas, (Bruxelles, 1848,) tom. I. pp. 105,
106.

[388] "Le _fer_, la _fosse_, et le _feu_." Ibid., ubi supra.

[389] Meteren, Histoire des Pays-Bas, ou Recueil des Guerres et Choses
memorables, depuis l'An 1315, jusques à l'An 1612, traduit de Flamend,
(La Haye, 1618,) fol. 10.--Brandt, History of the Reformation in the Low
Countries, translated from the Dutch, (London, 1720,) vol. I. p. 88.

[390] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 108.--Grotius, Annales
et Historiæ de Rebus Belgicis, (Amstelædami, 1657,) p. 11.--Brandt,
Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p. 88.

[391] Viglius, afterwards president of the privy council, says plainly,
in one of his letters to Granvelle, that the name of _Spanish_
Inquisition was fastened on the Flemish, in order to make it odious to
the people. "Queruntur autem imprimis, a nobis novam inductam
inquisitionem, quam vocant Hispanicam. Quod falsò populo a quibusdam
persuadetur, ut nomine ipso rem odiosam reddant, cùm nulla alia ab
Cæsare sit instituta inquisitio, quam ea, quæ cum jure scripto scilicet
Canonico, convenit, et usitata antea fuit in hac Provincia." Viglii
Epistolæ Selectæ, ap. Hoynck, Analecta Belgica, (Hagæ Comitum, 1743,)
tom. II. pars I. p. 349.

[392] Grotius swells the number to one hundred thousand! (Annales, p.
12.) It is all one; beyond a certain point of the incredible, one ceases
to estimate probabilities.

[393] Histoire de l'Inquisition d'Espagne, (Paris, 1818,) tom. I. p.
280.

[394] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 123. 124.

[395] "Donde che l'Imperatore ha potuto cavare in 24 millioni d'oro _in
pochi anni_." Relatione di Soriano, MS.

[396] "Questi sono li tesori del Re di Spagna, queste le minere, queste
l'Indie che hanno sostenuto l'imprese dell'Imperatore tanti anni nelle
guerre di Francia, d'Italia et d'Alemagna, et hanno conservato et
diffeso li stati, la dignità et la riputatione sua." Ibid.

[397] "Et però in ogni luogo corrono tanto i denari et tanto il
spacciamento d'ogni cosa che non vi è huomo per basso et inerte, che
sia, che per il suo grado non sia ricco." Relatione di Cavallo, MS.

[398] See an extract from the original letter of Charles, dated
Brussels, January 27 1555, ap. Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I.
p. cxxii.

[399] It is the fine expression of Schiller, applied to Philip on
another occasion. Abfall der Niederlande, p. 61.

[400] "Il se cachait ordinairement dans le fond de son carosse, pour se
dérober à la curiosité d'un peuple qui courait audevant de lui et
s'empressait à le voir; le peuple se crut dédaigné et méprisé."
Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 17.

Coaches were a novelty then in Flanders, and indeed did not make their
appearance till some years later in London. Sir Thomas Gresham writes
from Antwerp in 1560, "The Regent ys here still; and every other day
rydes abowght this town in her cowche, _brave come le sol_, trymmed
after the Itallione fasshone." Burgon, Life of Gresham, vol. I. p. 305.

[401] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 108,
126.--Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 10.--Brandt,
Reformation in the Low Countries, tom. I. p. 107.

[402] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 94.

[403] Ibid., ubi supra.--Historia de los Alborotos de Flandes, por el
Caballero Renom de Francia, Señor de Noyelles, y Presidente de Malinas,
MS.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 31.

[404] See, in particular, the king's letter, in which he proposes to
turn to his own account the sinking fund provided by the states for the
discharge of the debt they had already contracted for him, Papiers
d'Etat, de Granvelle, tom. V. p. 594.

[405] "Il Duca di Sessa et il Conte d'Egmont hano acquistato il nome di
Capitano nuovamente perche una giornata vinta o per vertu o per fortuna,
una sola fattione ben riuscita, porta all'huomini riputatione et
grandezza." Relatione di Soriano, MS.

[406] Strada, De Bello Belgico, lib. I. p. 42.--Francia, Alborotos de
Flandes, MS.--Bentivoglio, Guerra di Fiandra, p. 25.

[407] Strada, De Bello Belgico, lib. I. p. 52.

[408] "Sed etiam habitus quidam corporis incessusque, quo non tam femina
sortita viri spiritus, quàm vir ementitus veste feminam videretur."
Ibid., ubi supra.

[409] "Nec deerat aliqua mento superiorique labello barbula: ex qua
virilis ei non magis species, quàm auctoritas conciliabatur. Immò, quod
rarò in mulieres, nec nisi in prævalidas cadit, podagrâ idemtidem
laborabat." Ibid., p. 53.

[410] "Ob eam causam singulis annis, tum in sanctiori hebdomada,
duodenis pauperibus puellis pedes (quos a sordibus purgatos antè
vetuerat) abluebat." Ibid., ubi supra.

[411] Ibid., pp. 46-53, 543.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V. cap.
2.--Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 13.

[412] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 21.

[413] Bentivoglio, Guerra di Fiandra, p. 27 et seq.--Cabrera, Filipe
Segundo, lib. V. cap. 2.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, lib. I. p.
57.--Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bays, tom. II. p. 22.--Meteren,
Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 24.--Schiller, Abfall der Niederlande, p. 84.

[414] "Je confesse que je fus tellement esmeu de pitié et de compassion
que dès lors j'entrepris à bon escient d'ayder à faire chasser cette
vermine d'Espaignols hors de ce Pays." Apology of the Prince of Orange,
ap. Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. V. p. 392.

[415] "Que le Roi et son Conseil avoyent arresté que tous ceux qui
avoient consenti et signé la Requeste, par laquelle on demandoit que la
Gendarmerie Espaignolle s'en allast, qu'on auroit souvenance de les
chastier avec le temps, et quand la commodité s'en presenteroit, et
qu'il les en advertissoit comme amy." Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol.
25.

[416] "Che egli voleva piuttosto restar senza regni, che possedergli con
l'eresia." Bentivoglio, Guerra di Fiandra, p. 31.

[417] Ranke, Spanish Empire, p. 81.--Schiller, Abfall der Niederlande,
p. 85.--Bentivoglio, Guerra di Fiandra, p. 27.--- Strada, De Bello
Belgico, p. 57.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 25.

[418] The existence of such a confidential body proved a fruitful source
of disaster. The names of the parties who composed it are not given in
the instructions to the regent, which leave all to her discretion.
According to Strada, however, the royal will in the matter was plainly
intimated by Philip. (De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 57.) Copies of the
regent's commission, as well as of two documents, the one indorsed as
"private," the other as "secret" instructions, and all three bearing the
date of August 8, 1559, are to be found entire in the Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. II., Appendix, Nos. 2-4.

[419] "Ma non dal tanto alcuno dell'altri nè tutt'insieme quanto
Mons^{r.} d'Aras solo, il quale per il gran giudicio che ha et per la
longa prattica del governo del mondo et nel tentar l'imprese grandi più
accorto et più animoso di tutti più destro et più sicuro nel maneggiarle
et nel finirle più constante et più risoluto." Relatione di Soriano, MS.

[420] "Mio figliuolo et io e voi habbiamo perso un buon letto di
riposo,"--literally a good bed to repose on. Leti, Vita di Filippo II.,
tom. I. p. 195.

[421] principal motive of Philip the Second in founding this university,
according to Hopper, was to give Flemings the means of getting a
knowledge of the French language without going abroad into foreign
countries for it. Recueil et Mémorial des Troubles des Pays-Bas, cap. 2,
ap. Hoynck, Analecta Belgica, tom. II.

[422] "On remarque de lui ce qu'on avoit remarqué de César, et même
d'une façon plus singulière, c'est qu'il occupoit cinq secrétaires à la
fois, en leur dictant des lettres en différentes langues." Levesque,
Mémoires pour servir à l'Histoire du Cardinal de Granvelle, (Paris,
1753,) tom. I. p. 215.

[423] "Di modo che ogni sera sopra un foglio di carta che lor chiamono
beliero esso Granvela, manda all'Imperatore il suo parere del quale
sopra li negotii del seguente giorno sua maestà ha da fare." Relatione
di Soriano, MS.

[424] "Havendo prima luí senza risolvere cosa alcuna mandata
ogn'informatione et ogni particolare negotiatíone con gli Ambasciatori
et altri ad esso Monsignore, di modo che et io et tutti gl'altri
Ambasciatori si sono avveduti essendo rimesse a Monsignor Granvela che
sua Eccellenza ha inteso ogni particolare et quasi ogni parola passata
fra l'Imperatore et loro." Ibid.

[425] A striking example of the manner in which Granvelle conveyed his
own views to the king is shown by a letter to Philip dated Brussels,
July 17, 1559, in which the minister suggests the arguments that might
be used to the authorities of Brabant for enforcing the edicts. The
letter shows, too, that Granvelle, if possessed naturally of a more
tolerant spirit than Philip, could accommodate himself so far to the
opposite temper of his master as to furnish him with some very plausible
grounds for persecution. Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. V. p. 614.

[426] Levesque, Mémoires de Granvelle, tom. I. p. 207 et
seq.--Courchetet, Histoire du Cardinal de Granvelle, (Bruxelles, 1784,)
tom. I. passim.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, p. 85.--Burgon, Life of
Gresham, vol. I. p. 267.

The author of the Mémoires de Granvelle was a member of a Benedictine
convent in Besançon, which, by a singular chance, became possessed of
the manuscripts of Cardinal Granvelle, more than a century after his
death. The good Father Levesque made but a very indifferent use of the
rich store of materials placed at his disposal, by digesting them into
two duodecimo volumes, in which the little that is of value seems to
have been pilfered from the unpublished MS. of a previous biographer of
the Cardinal. The work of the Benedictine, however, has the merit of
authenticity. I shall take occasion, hereafter, to give a more
particular account of the Granvelle collection.

[427] "En considération des bons, léaux, notables et agréables services
faits par lui, pendant plusieurs années, à feu l'Empereur, et depuis au
Roi." Correspondance de Philippe II, tom. I. p. 184.

[428] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 69 et
seq.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, p. 40.--Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial,
cap. 2.--Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, MS.

[429] The royal larder seems to have been well supplied in the article
of poultry, to judge from one item, mentioned by Meteren, of fifteen
thousand capons. Hist. des Pays-Bas, tom. I. fol. 25.

[430] "Le Roi le prenant par le poignet, et le lui secoüant, repliqua en
Espagnol, _No los Estados, mas vos, vos, vos_, repetant ce _vos_ par
trois fois, terme de mépris chez les Espagnols, qui veut dire toy, toy
en François." Aubéri, Mémoires pour servir à l'Histoire d'Hollande et
des autres Provinces-Unies, (Paris, 1711,) p. 7.

[431] One might wish the authority for this anecdote better than it is,
considering that it is contradicted by the whole tenor of Philip's life,
in which self-command was a predominant trait. The story was originally
derived from Aubéri (loc. cit.). The chronicler had it, as he tells us,
from his father, to whom it was told by an intimate friend of the prince
of Orange, who was present at the scene. Aubéri, though a dull writer,
was, according to Voltaire's admission, well informed,--"écrivain
médiocre, mais fort instruit."

[432] "Carlo V. haueua saccheggiato la Terra, per arrichirne il Mare."
Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 335.

[433] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V. cap. 3.--Sepulveda, De Rebus
Gestis Philippi II., Opera, tom. III. p. 53.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II.,
tom. I. p. 335.

[434] The editors of the "Documentos Inéditos para la Historia de
España," in a very elaborate notice of the prosecution of Archbishop
Carranza, represent the literary intercourse between the German and
Spanish Protestants as even more extensive than it is stated to be in
the text. According to them, a regular _dépôt_ was established at Medina
del Campo and Seville, for the sale of the forbidden books at very low
rates. "De las imprentas de Alemania se despachaban á Flandes, y desde
alli á España, al principio por los puertos de mar, y después cuando ya
hubo mas vigilancia de parte del gobierno, los enviaban á Leon de
Francia desde donde se introducían en la península por Navarra y Aragon.
Un tal Vilman librero de Amberes tenia tienda en Medina del Campo y en
Sevilla donde vendia las obras de los protestantes en español y latin.
Estos libros de Francfort se daban á buen mercado para que circulasen
con mayor facilidad." Documentos Inéditos, tom. V. p. 399.

[435] For the preceding pages see Llorente, Histoire de l'Inquisition
d'Espagne, tom. II p. 282; tom. III. pp. 191, 258.--Montanus, Discovery
and playne Declaration of sundry subtill Practises of the Holy
Inquisition of Spayne, (London, 1569,) p. 73.--Sepulveda, Opera, tom.
III. p. 54.

[436] Llorente, Hist, de l'Inquisition d'Espagne, tom. I. pp. 470, 471;
tom. II. pp. 183, 184, 215-217.

[437] McCrie, History of the Reformation in Spain, (Edinburgh, 1829,) p.
243.--Relacion del Auto que se hiço en Valladolid el dia de la
Sanctissima Trinidad, Año de 1559, MS.

[438] The reader curious in the matter will find a more particular
account of the origin and organization of the modern Inquisition in the
"History of Ferdinand and Isabella," part I. cap. 9.

[439] See the Register of such as were burned at Seville and Valladolid,
in 1559, ap. Montanus, Discovery of sundry subtill Practises of the
Inquisition.--Relacion del Auto que se hiço en Valladolid el dia de la
Sanctissima Trinidad, 1559, MS.--Sepulveda, Opera, tom. III. p. 58.

[440] McCrie, Reformation in Spain, p. 274.

[441] De Castro, Historia de los Protestantes Españoles, (Cadiz, 1851,)
p. 177.

[442] "Nous recommandons de le traiter avec bonté et miséricorde."
Llorente, Inquisition d'Espagne, tom. II. p. 253.

[443] Colmenares, Historia de Segovia, cap. XLII. sec. 3.--Cabrera,
Filipe Segundo, lib. V. cap 3.

[444] Llorente, Inquisition d'Espagne, tom. II. p. 236.

[445] The anecdote is well attested. (Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V.
cap. 3.) Father Agustin Davila notices what he styles this _sentencia
famosa_ in his funeral discourse on Philip, delivered at Valladolid soon
after that monarch's death. (Sermones Funerales, en las Honras del Rey
Don Felipe II., fol. 77.) Colmenares still more emphatically eulogizes
the words thus uttered in the cause of the true faith, as worthy of such
a prince. "El primer sentenciado al fuego en este Auto fué Don Carlos de
Seso de sangre noble, que osó dezir al Rey, como consentia que le
quemasen, y severo respondio, Yo trahere la leña para quemar á mi hijo,
si fuere tan malo como vos. Accion y palabras dignas de tal Rey en causa
de la suprema religion." Historia de Segovia, cap. XLII. sec. 3.

[446] Llorente, Inquisition d'Espagne, tom. II. p. 237.

[447] Montanus, Discovery of sundry subtill Practises of the
Inquisition, p. 52.--Llorente, Inquisition d'Espagne, tom. II. p.
239.--Sepulveda, Opera, tom. III. p. 58.

[448] Puigblanch, The Inquisition Unmasked, (London, 1816,) vol. I. p.
336.

[449] "Hallóse por esto presente a ver llevar i entregar al fuego muchos
delinquentes aconpañados de sus guardas de a pie i de a cavallo, que
ayudaron a la execucion." Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V. cap. 3.

It may be doubted whether the historian means anything more than that
Philip saw the unfortunate man led to execution, at which his own guards
assisted. Dávila, the friar who, as I have noticed, pronounced a funeral
oration on the king, speaks of him simply as having assisted at this act
of faith,--"Assistir a los actos de Fe, como se vio en esta Ciudad."
(Sermones Funerales, fol. 77.) Could the worthy father have ventured to
give Philip credit for being present at the death, he would not have
failed to do so. Leti, less scrupulous, tells us that Philip saw the
execution from the windows of his palace, heard the cries of the dying
martyrs, and enjoyed the spectacle! The picture he gives of the scene
loses nothing for want of coloring. Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 342.

[450] How little sympathy, may be inferred from the savage satisfaction
with which a wise and temperate historian at the time dismisses to
everlasting punishment one of the martyrs at the first _auto_ at
Valladolid. "Jureque vivus flammis corpore cruciatus miserrimam animam
efflavit ad supplicia sempiterna." Sepulveda, Opera, tom. III. p. 58.

[451] Balmes, one of the most successful champions of the Romish faith
in our time, finds in the terrible apathy thus shown to the sufferings
of the martyrs a proof of a more vital religious sentiment than exists
at the present day! "We feel our hair grow stiff on our heads at the
mere idea of burning a man alive. Placed in society where the religious
sentiment is considerably diminished; accustomed to live among men who
have a different religion, and sometimes none at all; we cannot bring
ourselves to believe that it could be, at that time, quite an ordinary
thing to see heretics or the impious led to punishment." Protestantism
and Catholicity compared in their Effects on the Civilization of Europe,
Eng. trans., (Baltimore, 1851,) p. 217.

According to this view of the matter, the more religion there is among
men, the harder will be their hearts.

[452] The zeal of the king and the Inquisition together in the work of
persecution had wellnigh got the nation into more than one difficulty
with foreign countries. Mann, the English minister, was obliged to
remonstrate against the manner in which the independence of his own
household was violated by the agents of the Holy Office. The complaints
of St. Sulpice, the French ambassador, notwithstanding the gravity of
the subject, are told in a vein of caustic humor that may provoke a
smile in the reader: "I have complained to the king of the manner in
which the Marseillese, and other Frenchmen, are maltreated by the
Inquisition. He excused himself by saying that he had little power or
authority in matters which depended on that body; he could do nothing
further than recommend the grand-inquisitor to cause good and speedy
justice to be done to the parties. The grand-inquisitor promised that
they should be treated no worse than born Castilians, and the 'good and
speedy justice'came to this, that they were burnt alive in the king's
presence." Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 111.

[453] The archbishop of Toledo, according to Lucio Marineo Siculo, who
wrote a few years before this period, had jurisdiction over more than
fifteen large towns, besides smaller places, which of course made the
number of his vassals enormous. His revenues also, amounting to eighty
thousand ducats, exceeded those of any grandee in the kingdom. The
yearly revenues of the subordinate beneficiaries of his church were
together not less than a hundred and eighty thousand ducats. Cosas
Memorables de España, (Alcalá de Henares, 1539,) fol. 13.

[454] Salazar, Vida de Carranza, (Madrid, 1788,) cap. 1-11.--Documentos
Inéditos, tom. V. p. 389 et seq.--Llorente, Inquisition d'Espagne, tom.
II. p. 163; tom. III. p. 183 et seq.

[455] "En que se quemaron mas de 400 casas principales, y ricas, y
algunas en aquel barrio donde él estaba; no solo no lo entendió el
Arzobispo, pero ni lo supo hasta muchos años despues de estár en Roma."
Salazar, Vida de Carranza cap. 15.

[456] Salazar, Vida de Carranza, cap. 12-35.--Documentos Inéditos, tom.
V. pp. 453-463.--Llorente, Inquisition d'Espagne, tom. III. p. 218 et
seq.

[457] The persecution of Carranza has occupied the pens of several
Castilian writers. The most ample biographical notice of him is by the
Doctor Salazar de Miranda, who derived his careful and trustworthy
narrative from the best original sources. Llorente had the advantage of
access to the voluminous records of the Holy Office, of which he was the
secretary; and in his third volume he has devoted a large space to the
process of Carranza which, with the whole mass of legal documents
growing out of the protracted prosecution, amounted, as he assures us,
to no less than twenty-six thousand leaves of manuscript. This enormous
mass of testimony leads one to suspect that the object of the
Inquisition was not so much to detect the truth as to cover it up. The
learned editors of the "Documentos Inéditos" have profited by both these
works, as well as by some unpublished manuscripts of that day, relating
to the affair, to exhibit it fully and fairly to the Castilian reader,
who in this brief history may learn the value of the institutions under
which his fathers lived.

[458] So says McCrie, whose volume on the Reformation in Spain presents
in a reasonable compass a very accurate view of that interesting
movement. The historian does not appear to have had access to any rare
or recondite materials; but he has profited well by those at his
command, comprehending the best published works, and has digested them
into a narrative distinguished for its temperance and truth.

[459] A full account of this duke of Infantado is to be found in the
extremely rare work of Nuñez de Castro, Historia Ecclesiastica y Seglar
de Guadalajara, (Madrid, 1653,) p. 180 et seq. Oviedo, in his curious
volumes on the Castilian aristocracy, which he brings down to 1556,
speaks of the dukes of Infantado as having a body-guard of two hundred
men, and of being able to muster a force of thirty thousand!
Quincuagenas, MS.

[460] "Avia gualdrapas de dos mil ducados de costa sin conputar valor de
piedras." Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V. cap. 7.

[461] "Elle répondit d'un air riant, et avec des termes pleins tout
ensemble de douceur et de majesté." De Thou, tom. III. p. 426.

[462] We have a minute account of this interview from the pens of two of
Isabella's train, who accompanied her to Castile, and whose letters to
the cardinal of Lorraine are to be found in the valuable collection of
historical documents, the publication of which was begun under the
auspices of Louis Philippe. Documents Inédits sur l'Histoire de France,
Négociations etc. relatives au Règne de François II., p. 171 et seq.

[463] Lucio Marineo, in his curious farrago of notable matters, speaks
of the sumptuous residence of the dukes of Infantado in Guadalajara.
"Los muy magníficos y sumpticosos palacios que alli estan de los muy
illustres duques de la casa muy antigua de los Mendoças." Cosas
Memorables, fol. 13.

[464] "J'ay ouy conter à une de ses dames que la premiere fois qu'elle
vist son mary, elle se mit à le contempler si fixement, que le Roy, ne
le trouvant pas bon, luy demanda: _Que mirais, si tengo canas?_
c'est-à-dire, 'Que regardez-vous, si j'ai les cheveux blancs?'Ces mots
luy toucherent si fort au cœur que depuis on augura mal pour elle."
Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. V. p. 131.

[465] In this statement I conform to Sismondi's account. In the present
instance, however, there is even more uncertainty than is usual in
regard to a lady's age. According to Cabrera, Isabella was eighteen at
the time of her marriage; while De Thou makes her only eleven when the
terms of the alliance were arranged by the commissioners at
Cateau-Cambresis. These are the extremes, but within them there is no
agreement amongst the authorities I have consulted.

[466] "Elizabeth de France, et vraye fille de France, en tout belle,
sage, vertueuse, spirituelle et bonne, s'il en fust oncques." Brantôme,
Œuvres, tom. V. p. 126.

[467] "Son visage estoit beau, et ses cheveux et yeux noirs, qui
adombroient son teint...... Sa taille estoit tres belle, et plus grande
que toutes ses sœurs, qui la rendoit fort admirable en Espagne, d'autant
que les tailles hautes y sont rares, et pour ce fort estimables." Ibid.,
p. 128.

[468] "Les seigneurs ne l'osoient regarder de peur d'en estre espris, et
en causer jalousie au roy son mary, et par consequent eux courir fortune
de la vie." Ibid., p. 128.

[469] "La regina istessa parue non so come sorpressa da vn sentimento di
malinconica passione, nel vedersi abbracciare da vn rè di 33 anni, di
garbo ordinario alla presenza d'vn giouine prencipe molto ben fatto, e
che prima dell'altro l'era stato promesso in sposo." Leti, Vita di
Filippo II., tom. I. p. 345.

[470] Brantôme, who was certainly one of those who believed in the
jealousy of Philip, if not in the passion of Isabella, states the
circumstance of the king's supplanting his son in a manner sufficiently
_naïve_. "Mais le roy d'Espagne son pere, venant à estre veuf par le
trespas de la reyne d'Angleterre sa femme et sa cousine germaine, ayant
veu le pourtraict de madame Elizabeth, et la trouvant fort belle et fort
à son gré, en coupa l'herbe soubs le pied à son fils, et la prit pour
luy, commençant cette charité à soy mesme." Œuvres, tom. V. p. 127.

[471] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V. cap. 6.--Florez, Reynas
Catolicas, p. 897.

"A la despedida presentó el Duque del Ynfantado al Rey, Reyna, Damas,
Dueñas de honor, y á las de la Cámara ricas joyas de oro y plata, telas,
guantes, y otras preseas tan ricas, por la prolixidad del arte, como por
lo precioso de la materia." De Castro, Hist. de Guadalajara, p. 116.

[472] "Danças de hermosisimas donzellas de la Sagra, i las de espadas
antigua invencion de Españoles." Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V. cap.
6.

[473] "Por la mucha hermosura que avia en las damas de la ciudad i
Corte, el adorno de los miradores i calles, las libreas costosas i
varias i muchas, que todo hazia un florido campo o lienço de Flandres."
Ibid., ubi supra.

[474] The royal nuptials were commemorated in a Latin poem, in two
books, "De Pace et Nuptiis Philippi et Isabellæ." It was the work of
Fernando Ruiz de Villegas, an eminent scholar of that day, whose
writings did not make their appearance in print till nearly two
centuries later,--and then not in his own land, but in Italy. In this
_epithalamium_, if it may be so called, the poet represents Juno as
invoking Jupiter to interfere in behalf of the French monarchy, that it
may not be crushed by the arms of Spain. Venus, under the form of the
duke of Alva,--as effectual a disguise as could be imagined,--takes her
seat in the royal council, and implores Philip to admit France to terms,
and to accept the hand of Isabella as the pledge of peace between the
nations. Philip graciously relents; peace is proclaimed; the marriage
between the parties is solemnized, with the proper Christian rites; and
Venus appears, in her own proper shape, to bless the nuptials! One might
have feared that this jumble of Christian rites and heathen mythology
would have scandalized the Holy Office, and exposed its ingenious author
to the honors of a _san benito_. But the poet wore his laurels
unscathed, and, for aught I know to the contrary, died quietly in his
bed. See Opera Ferdinandi Ruizii Villegatis, (Venetiis, 1736,) pp.
30-70.

[475] The sovereign remedy, according to the curious Brantôme, was
new-laid eggs. It is a pity the prescription should be lost. "On luy
secourust son visage si bien par des sueurs d'œufs frais, chose fort
propre pour cela, qu'il n'y parut rien; dont j'en vis la Reyne sa mere
fort curieuse à luy envoyer par force couriers beaucoup de remedes, mais
celui de la sueur d'œuf en estoit le souverain." Œuvres, tom. V. p. 129.

[476] "Aussi l'appelloit-on _la Reyna de la paz y de la bondad_,
c'est-à-dire la Reyne de la paix et de la bonté; et nos François
l'appelloient l'olive de paix." Ibid., ubi supra.

[477] "Et bien heureux et heureuse estoit celuy ou celle qui pouvoit le
soir dire 'J'ay veu la Reyne.'" Ibid., ubi supra.

[478] The difficulty began so soon as Isabella had crossed the borders.
The countess of Ureña, sister of the duke of Albuquerque, one of the
train of the duke of Infantado, claimed precedence of the countess of
Rieux and Mademoiselle de Montpensier, kinswomen of the queen. The
latter would have averted the discussion by giving the Castilian dame a
seat in her carriage; but the haughty countess chose to take the affair
into her own hands; and her servants came into collision with those of
the French ladies, as they endeavored to secure a place for their
mistress's litter near the queen. Isabella, with all her desire to
accommodate matters, had the spirit to decide in favor of her own
followers, and the aspiring lady was compelled--with an ill grace--to
give way to the blood royal of France. It was easier, as Isabella, or
rather as her husband, afterwards found, to settle disputes between
rival states than between the rival beauties of a court. The affair is
told by Lansac, Négociations relatives au Règne de François II., p. 171.

[479] "Elle ne porta jamais une robe deux fois, et puis la donnoit à ses
femmes et ses filles: et Dieu sçait quelles robbes, si riches et si
superbes, que la moindre estoit de trois ou quatre cens escus; car le
Roy son mary l'entretenoit fort superbement de ces choses là." Brantôme,
Œuvres, tom. V. p. 140.

[480] The MS., which is in Italian, is in the Royal Library at Paris.
See the extracts from it in Raumer's Sixteenth and Seventeenth
Centuries, vol. I. p. 104 et seq.

[481] "Don Felipe Segundo nuestro señor, el cual con muy suntuosas, y
exquisitas fábricas dignas de tan grande Principe, de nuevo le ilustra,
de manera que es, consideradas todas sus calidades, la mas rara casa que
ningun Principe tiene en el mundo, á dicho de los estrangeros." Juan
Lopez, ap. Quintana, Antiguëdad, Nobleza y Grandeza de la Villa y Corte
de Madrid, p. 331.

[482] Ibid., ubi supra.--Sylva, Poblacion de España, (Madrid, 1675,)
cap. 4.--Estrada, Poblacion de España, (Madrid, 1748,) tom. I. p. 123.

[483] I quote the words of a work now become very scarce. "De dos mil y
quinientas y veinte casas que tenia Madrid quando su Magestad traxo
desde Toledo á ella la Corte, en las quales quando mucho avria de doce
mil a catorce mil personas,.... avia el año de mil y quinientos y
noventa y ocho, repartidas en trece Parroquias doce mil casas, y en
ellas trescientas mil personas y mas." Quintana, Antiguëdad de Madrid,
p. 331.

[484] "No hay sino un Madrid."

[485] "Donde Madrid está, calle el mundo."

[486] "No se conoce cielo mas benevolo, mas apacible clima, influso mas
favorable, con que sobresalen hermosos rostros, disposiciones gallardas,
lucidos ingenios, coraçones valientes, y generosos animos." Sylva,
Poblacion de España, cap 4.

[487]

"El aire de Madrid es tan sotil Que mata a un hombre, y no apaga a un
candil."


[488] Lucio Marineo gives a very different view of the environs of
Madrid in Ferdinand and Isabella's time. The picture, by the hand of a
contemporary, affords so striking a contrast to the present time that it
is worth quoting. "Corren por ella los ayres muy delgados: por los
quales siēpre bive la gēte muy sana. Tiene mas este lugar grādes
términos y campos muy fertiles: los quales llamā lomos de Madrid. Por
que cojen en ellos mucho pan y vino, y otras cosas necessarias y
mātenimientos muy sanos." Cosas Memorables de España, fol. 13.

[489] Such at least is Ford's opinion. (See the Handbook of Spain, p.
720 et seq.) His clever and caustic remarks on the climate of Madrid
will disenchant the traveller whose notions of the capital have been
derived only from the reports of the natives.

[490] "Solo Madrid es corte."

Ford, who has certainly not ministered to the vanity of the Madrileño,
has strung together these various proverbs with good effect.

[491] Balmes, Protestantism and Catholicity compared, p. 215.

[492] "Il y avoit bien 30. ans que ceux de Brusselles avoyent commencé,
et avoyent percé des collines, des champs et chemins, desquels ils
avoient achapté les fonds des proprietaires, on y avoit faict 40.
grandes escluses..... et cousta dix huits cent mille florins." Meteren,
Hist. des Pays-Bas, tom. I. fol. 26.

[493] "Je vois une grande jeunesse en ces pays, avec les mœurs desquelz
ne me sçaurois ny ne voudrois accommoder; la fidélité du monde et
respect envers Dieu et son prince si corrompuz,..... que ne désirerois
pas seullement de les pas gouverner,.... mais aussy me fasche de le
veoir, congnoistre et de vivre.... entre telles gens." Papiers d'Etat de
Granvelle, tom. IV. p. 476.

[494] Gerlache, Histoire du Royaume des Pays-Bas, (Bruxelles, 1842,)
tom. I. p. 71.

[495] "Es menester ver como la nobleza se ha desde mucho tiempo
desmandada y empeñada por usura y gastos superfluos, gastando casi mas
que doble de lo que tenían en edificios, muebles, festines, danzas,
mascaradas, fuegos de dados, naipes, vestidos, libreas, seguimiento de
criados y generalmente en todas suertes de deleytes, luxuria, y
superfluidad, lo que se avia comenzado antes de la yda de su magestad á
España. Y desde entonces uvo un descontento casi general en el país y
esperanza de esta gente asi alborotada de veer en poco tiempo una
mudanza." Renom de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, MS.

[496] Apologie de Guillaume IX. Prince d'Orange contre la Proscription
de Philippe II. Roi d'Espagne, presentée aux Etats Généraux des
Pays-Bas, le 13 Decembre, 1580, ap. Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. V.
p. 384.

[497] M. Groen Van Prinsterer has taken some pains to explain the
conduct of William's parents, on the ground, chiefly, that they had
reason to think their son, after all, might he allowed to worship
according to the way in which he had been educated (p. 195). But
whatever concessions to the Protestants may have been wrung from Charles
by considerations of public policy, we suspect few who have studied his
character will believe that he would ever have consented to allow one of
his own household, one to whom he stood in the relation of a guardian,
to be nurtured in the faith of heretics.

[498] See particularly Margaret's letter to the king, of March 13, 1560,
Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 260 et seq.

[499] M. Groen Van Prinsterer has industriously collated the
correspondence of the several parties, which must be allowed to form an
edifying chapter in the annals of matrimonial diplomacy. See Archives de
la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 202.

[500] Mémoires de Granvelle, tom. I. p. 251.

[501] Raumer, Hist. Tasch., p. 109, ap. Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 115.

[502] Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 284.

[503] It may give some idea of the scale of William's domestic
establishment to state, that, on reducing it to a more economical
standard, twenty-eight head-cooks were dismissed. (Van der Haer, De
Initiis Tumult., p. 182, ap. Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom.
I. p. 200*.) The same contemporary tells us that there were few princes
in Germany who had not one cook, at least, that had served an
apprenticeship in William's kitchen,--the best school in that day for
the noble science of gastronomy.

[504] "Audivi rem domesticam sic splendide habuisse ut ad ordinarium
domus ministerium haberet 24 Nobiles, pueros vero Nobiles (Pagios
nominamus) 18." Ibid., ubi supra.

[505] "Rei domesticæ splendor, famulorumque et asseclarum multitudo
magnis Principibus par. Nec ulla toto Belgio sedes hospitalior, ad quam
frequentiùs peregrini Proceres Legatique diverterent, exciperenturque
magnificentiùs, quàm Orangii domus." Strada, De Bello Belgico, p. 99.

[506] "Le prince d'Orange, qui tient un grand état de maison, et mène à
sa suite des comtes, des barons et beaucoup d'autres gentilshommes
d'Allemagne, doit, pour le moins, 900,000 fl." Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. I. p. 239.

[507] In January, 1564, we find him writing to his brother, "Puis qu'il
ne reste que à XV. cens florins par an, que serons bien tost délivré des
debtes." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 196.

[508] "Il estoit d'une éloquence admirable, avec laquelle il mettoit en
évidence les conceptions sublimes de son esprit, et faisoit plier les
aultres seigneurs de la court, ainsy que bon luy sembloit." Gachard,
(Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II., Préface, p. 3,) who
quotes a manuscript of the sixteenth century, preserved in the library
of Arras, entitled, "Commencement de l'Histoire des Troubles des
Pays-Bas, advenuz soubz le Gouvernement de Madame la Duchesse de Parme."

[509] "Sy estoit singulièrement aimé et bien vollu de la commune, pour
une gracieuse façon de faire qu'il avoit de saluer, caresser, et
arraisonner privément et familièrement tout le monde." Ibid., ubi supra.

[510] "Il ne l'occuperoit point de ces choses mélancoliques, mais il lui
feroit lire, au lieu des Saintes-Ecritures, Amadis de Gaule et d'autres
livres amusants du même genre." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau,
tom. I. p. 203*.

[511] "Il estoit du nombre de ceulx qui pensent que la religion
chrestienne soit une invention politique, pour contenir le peuple en
office par voie de Dieu, non plus ni moins que les cérémonies,
divinations et superstitions que Numa Pompilius introduisit à Rome."
Commencement de l'Hist. des Troubles, MS., ap. Gachard, Cor. de
Guillaume, tom. II., Préface, p. 5.

[512] "Tantôt Catholique, tantôt Calviniste ou Luthérien selon les
différentes occasions, et selon ses divers desseins." Mémoires de
Granvelle, tom. II. p. 54.

[513] "Estimant, ainsy que faisoient lors beaucoup de catholiques, que
c'estoit chose cruelle de faire mourir ung homme, pour seulement avoir
soustenu une opinion, jasoit qu'elle fût erronée." MS. quoted by
Gachard, Cor. de Guillaume, tom. II., Préface, p. 4.

[514] "No se vee que puedan quedar aquí mas tiempo sin grandissimo
peligro de que dende agora las cosas entrassen en alboroto." Papiers
d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VI. p. 166.

[515] "Harto se declaran y el Principe d'Oranges y Monsr d'Egmont que
aunque tuviessen la mayor voluntad del mundo para servir en esto á V. M.
de tener cargo mas tiempo de los Españoles, no lo osarian emprender si
bolviessen, por no perderse y su crédito y reputacion con estos
estados." Ibid., p. 197.

[516] Some notion of the extent of these embarrassments may be formed
from a schedule prepared by the king's own hand, in September, 1560.
From this it appears that the ordinary sources of revenue were already
mortgaged: and that, taking into view all available means, there was
reason to fear there would be a deficiency at the end of the following
year of no less than nine millions of ducats. "Where the means of
meeting this are to come from," Philip bitterly remarks, "I do not know,
unless it be from the clouds, for all usual resources are exhausted."
This was a sad legacy, entailed on the young monarch by his father's
ambition. The document is to be found in the Papiers d'Etat de
Granvelle, tom. VI. pp. 156-165.

[517] "Dizen todos los de aquella isla que ántes se dexarán ahogar con
ellos, que de poner la mano mas adelante en el reparo tan necessario de
los diques." Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VI. p. 200.

[518] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 192.--Strada, De Bello
Belgico, p. 111.

[519] "Hase con industria persuadido á los pueblos que V. M. quiere
poner aquí á mi instancia la inquisicion de España so color de los
nuevos obispados." Granvelle to Philip, Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle,
tom. VI. p. 554. See also Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I.,
passim.

[520] "Los quales, aunque pueden ser á proposito para administrar sus
abadias, olvidan el beneficio recebido del principe y en las cosas de su
servicio y beneficio comun de la provincia son durissimos, y tan rudes
para que se les pueda persuadir la razon, como seria qualquier menor
hombre del pueblo." Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VI. p. 18.

The intention of the crown appears more clearly from the rather frank
avowal of Granvelle to the duchess of Parma, made indeed some twenty
years later, 1582, that it was a great object with Philip to afford a
counterpoise in the states to the authority of William and his
associates. Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. VIII. p. 96.

[521] Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VI. p. 17.

[522] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 71.

[523] Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VI. p. 612.--Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. I. p. 263.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 31.

By another arrangement the obligations of Afflighen and the other abbeys
of Brabant were commuted for the annual payment of eight thousand ducats
for the support of the bishops. This agreement, as well as that with
Antwerp, was afterwards set aside by the unscrupulous Alva, who fully
carried out the original intentions of the crown.

[524] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 77.

[525] "En ce qui concerne les nouveaux évêchés, le Roi déclare que
jamais Granvelle ne lui en conseilla l'érection; qu'il en fit même dans
le principe un mystère au cardinal, et que celui-ci n'en eut
connaissance que lorsque l'affaire était déjà bien avancée."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 207.

[526] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. VIII. p. 54.

[527] "Il serait prêt à y contribuer de sa fortune, de son sang et de sa
propre vie." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 189.

[528] "Veo el odio de los Estados cargar sobre mi, mas pluguiesse á Dios
que con sacrificarme fuesse todo remediado.... Que plugiera á Dios que
jamas se huviera pensado en esta ereccion destas yglesias; _amen_,
_amen_." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 117.

[529] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 63.

[530] Strada, de Bello Belgico, p. 88.

[531] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 52.

[532] Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. p. 15.

[533] The nobles, it appears, had complained to Philip that they had
been made to act this unworthy part in the cabinet of the duke of Savoy,
when regent of the Netherlands. Granvelle, singularly enough, notices
this in a letter to the Regent Mary, in 1555, treating it as a mere
suspicion on their part. (See Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne,
tom. II., Préface, p. ix.) The course of things under the present
regency may be thought to show there was good ground for this suspicion.

[534] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 195.

[535] Ibid., p. 197.

[536] "Que bien claro muestran muchos que no les pesaria de que fuessen
mal, y que, si lo de allé diesse al través, bien brevemente se yria por
acá el mismo camino. Y ha sido muestra dicha, que ninguno destos señores
se haya declarado, que si lo hiziera alguno, otro que Dios no pudiera
estorvar que lo de aqui no siguiera el camino de Francia."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 230.

[537] "Ce méchant animal nommé le peuple;"--the cardinal's own words, in
a letter to the king. Ibid., p. 290.

[538] Strada, De Bello Belgico, p. 145.--Correspondance de Philippe II.,
tom. I. p. 202.

[539] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 210, 214.

[540] "A qui ils imputent d'avoir écrit au Roi qu'il fallait couper une
demi-douzaine de têtes et venir en force, pour conquérir le pays."
Ibid., p. 203.

[541] "Lo principal es que venga con dinero y crédito, que con esto no
faltará gente para lo que se huviesse de hazer coa los vezinos, y su
presencia valdra mucho para assossegar todo lo de sus súbditos." Papiers
d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VI. p. 562.

[542] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 91.--Mémoires de
Granvelle, tom. II. p. 24,--a doubtful authority, it must be admitted.

[543] "It is not true," Philip remarks, in a letter to the duchess dated
July 17, 1562, "that Granvelle ever recommended me to cut off half a
dozen heads. Though," adds the monarch, "it may perhaps be well enough
to have recourse to this measure." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom.
I. p. 207.

[544] Strada, De Bello Belgico, pp. 78, 79, 133, 134.--Renom de Francia.
Alborotos de Flandes, MS.--Meteren. Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 31, 32.

[545] "Qu'il n'étoit ni de son caractère ni de son honneur d'être le
Bourreau des Hérétiques." Mémoires de Granvelle, tom. I. p. 304.

[546] Strada, De Bello Belgico, pp. 136, 137.--Renom de Francia,
Alborotos de Flandes, MS.--Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries,
vol. I. pp. 137, 138.

[547] "En las [cosas] de la religion no se çufre temporizar, sino
castigarlas con todo rigor y severidad, que estos villacos sino es por
miedo no hazen cosa buena, y aun con él, no todas vezes." Papiers d'Etat
de Granvelle, tom. VI. p. 421.

[548] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 207.

[549] Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VI. p. 280.

[550] "Quoiqu'elle ne puisse dire qu'aucun des seigneurs ne soit pas bon
catholique, elle ne voit pourtant pas qu'ils procèdent, dans les
matières religieuses, avec toute la chaleur qui serait nécessaire."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 240.

[551] Ibid., p. 202.

[552] Ibid., ubi supra.

[553] "C'est une grande confusion de la multitude des nostres qui sont
icy fuis pour la religion. On les estime en Londres, Sandvich, et
comarque adjacente, de xviij à xx mille testes." Letter of Assonleville
to Granvelle, Ibid., p. 247.

[554] "Et qu'aussy ne se feroit rien par le Cardinal sans l'accord des
Seigneurs et inquisiteurs d'Espaigne, dont necessairement s'ensuyvroit,
que tout se mettroit en la puissance et arbitrage d'iceulx Seigneurs
inquisiteurs d'Espaigne." Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, p. 24.

[555] "Que, pour l'amour de Dieu, le Roi se dispose à venir aux
Pays-Bas!.... ce serait une grande charge pour sa conscience, que de ne
le pas faire." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 213.

[556] "Des choses de cette cour nous ne savons pas plus que ceux qui
sont aux Indes..... Le délai que le Roi met à répondre aux lettres qu'on
lui adresse cause un grand préjudice aux affaires; il pourra coûter cher
un jour." Ibid., p. 199.

[557] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 236, 242.

[558] Philip's answer to the letter of the duchess in which she stated
Granvelle's proposal was eminently characteristic. If Margaret could not
do better, she might enter into negotiations with the malecontents on
the subject; but she should take care to delay sending advice of it to
Spain; and the king, on his part, would delay as long as possible
returning his answers. For the measure, Philip concludes, is equally
repugnant to justice and to the interests of the crown. (Correspondance
de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 237.) This was the royal policy of
procrastination!

[559] "Conclusero una lega contra 'l Cardenal p'detto à diffesa commune
contra chi volesse offendere alcun di loro, laqual confortorono con
solennisso giuramento, ne si curarono che se non li particolari fossero
secreti per all'hora; ma publicorono questa loro unione, et questa lega
fatta contra il Cardle." Relatione di Tiepolo, MS.

[560] Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. pp. 36-38.

[561] "Que en otros tiempos por menor causa se havia mondado a Fiscales
proceder." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 151.

[562] "Que solos los de España sean legitimos, que son las palabras de
que aqui y en Italia se usa." Ibid., p. 153.

[563] "Car ce n'est ma coustume de grever aucuns de mes ministres sans
cause." Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. p. 42.

[564] "S'estant le comte d'Egmont advanché aujourd'huy huict jours _post
pocula_ dire à Hoppérus, avec lequel il fut bien deux heures en devises,
que ce n'estoit point à Granvelle que l'on en vouloit, mais au Roy, qui
administre tres-mal le public et mesmes ce de la Religion, comme l'on
luy at assez adverty." Morillon, Archdeacon of Mechlin, to Granvelle,
Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 247.

[565] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 256, 258, 259.

[566] "Il n'est pas icy question de grever ledict cardinal, ains
plustost de le descharger, voire d'une charge laquelle non-seulement lui
est peu convenable et comme extraordinaire, mais aussi ne peult plus
estre en ses mains, sans grand dangier d'inconvéniens et troubles."
Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. p. 45.

[567] "Quant il n'y auroit que le désordre, mescontentement et confusion
qui se trouve aujourd'huy en vos pays de par deçà, ce seroit assez
tesmoinage de combien peu sert icy sa présence, crédit et auctorité."
Ibid., p. 46.

[568] "Que ne sommes point de nature grans orateurs ou harangueurs, et
plus accoustumez à bien faire qu'à bien dire, comme aussy il est mieulx
séant à gens de nostre qualité." Ibid., p. 47.

[569] "Faisans cesser l'umbre dont avons servy en iceluy quatre ans."
Ibid., p. 50.

[570] Mémoires de Granvelle, tom. II. p. 39 et seq.--Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. I. p. 256.

[571] "Elle connait tout le mérite du cardinal, sa haute capacité, son
expérience des affaires d'Etat, le zèle et le dévouement qu'il montre
pour le service de Dieu et du Roi." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom.
I. p. 266.

[572] "D'un autre côté, elle reconnaît que vouloir le maintenir aux
Pays-Bas, contre le gré des seigneurs, pourrait entraîner de grands
inconvénients, et même le soulèvement du pays." Ibid., ubi supra.

[573] Reiffenberg, Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 26, note.

[574] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 58.

[575] "Vous ne me reconnaîtriez plus, tant mes cheveux ont blanchi."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 268.

[576] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 274.

[577] "Moi, qui ne suis qu'un ver de terre, je suis menacé de tant de
côtés, que beaucoup doivent me tenir déjà pour mort; mais je tâcherai,
avec l'aide de Dieu, de vivre autant que possible, et si l'on me tue,
j'espère qu'on n'aura pas gagné tout par là." Ibid., p. 284.

[578] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 190.

[579] "Hablándole yo en ello," writes the secretary Perez to Granvelle,
"como era razon, me respondió que por su fee ántes aventuraría á perder
essos estados que hazer esse agravio á V. S. en lo qual conoscerá la
gran voluntad que le tiene." Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VII. p.
102.

[580] "Cada vez que veo los despachos de aquellos tres señores de
Flandes me mueven la colera de manera que, sino procurasse mucho
templarla, creo parecia á V. Magd mi opinion de hombre frenetico." Carta
del Duque de Alba al Rey, á 21 de Octobre de 1563, MS.

[581] "A los que destos meriten, quiten les las caveças, hasta poder lo
hacer, dissimular con ellos." Ibid.

[582] "Comme je l'ai toujours trouvé plein d'empressement et de zèle
pour tout ce qui touche le service da V. M. et l'avantage du pays, je
supplie V. M. de faire au comte d'Egmont une réponse affectueuse, afin
qu'il ne désespère pas de sa bonté." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom
I. p. 281.

[583] The letter--found among the MSS. at Besançon--is given by Dom
Prosper Levesque in his life of the cardinal. (Mémoires de Granvelle,
tom. II. p. 52.) The worthy Benedictine assures us, in his preface, that
he has always given the text of Granvelle's correspondence exactly as he
found it; an assurance to which few will give implicit credit who have
read this letter, which bears the marks of the reviser's hand in every
sentence.

[584] Mémoires de Granvelle, tom. II. p. 55.

[585] "Le prince d'Orange est un homme dangereux, fin, rusé, affectant
de soutenir le peuple..... Je pense qu'un pareil génie qui a des vûes
profondes est fort difficile à ménager, et qu'il n'est guères possible
de le faire changer." Ibid., pp. 53, 54.

[586] "Causant l'autre jour avec elle, le comte d'Egmont lui montra un
grand mécontentement de ce que le Roi n'avait daigné faire un seul mot
de réponse ni à lui, ni aux autres. Il dit que, voyant cela, ils étaient
décidés à ordonner à leur courrier qu'il revint, sans attendre
davantage." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 283.

[587] "Il a pensé, d'après ce que le cardinal lui a écrit, qu'il serait
très à propos qu'il allât voir sa mère, avec la permission de la
duchesse de Parme. De cette manière, l'autorité du Roi et la réputation
du cardinal seront sauvées." Ibid., p. 285.

[588] That indefatigable laborer in the mine of MSS., M. Gachard,
obtained some clew to the existence of such a letter in the Archives of
Simancas. For two months it eluded his researches, when in a happy hour
he stumbled on this pearl of price. The reader may share the enthusiasm
of the Belgian scholar. "Je redoublai d'attention; et enfin, après deux
mois de travail, je découvris, sur un petit chiffon de papier, la minute
de la fameuse lettre dont faisait mention la duchesse de Parme: elle
avait été classée, par une méprise de je ne sais quel officiai, avec les
papiers de l'année 1562. On lisait en tête: _De mano del Rey; secreta._
Vous comprendrez, monsieur le Ministre, la joie que me fit éprouver
cette découverte: ce sont là des jouissances qui dédommagent de bien des
fatigues, de bien des ennuis!" Rapport à M. le Ministre de l'Intérieur,
Ibid., p. clxxxv.

[589] "M'esbayz bien que, pour chose quelconque, vous ayez délaissé
d'entrer au conseil où je vous avois laissé." Correspondance de
Guillaume le Taciturne tom. II. p. 67.

[590] "Ne faillez d'y rentrer, et monstrer de combien vous estimez plus
mon service et le bien de mes pays de delà, que autre particularité
quelconque." Ibid., p. 68.

[591] Abundant evidence of Philip's intentions is afforded by his
despatches to Margaret, together with two letters which they inclosed to
Egmont. These letters were of directly opposite tenor; one dispensing
with Egmont's presence at Madrid,--which had been talked of,--the other
inviting him there. Margaret was to give the one which, under the
circumstances, she thought expedient. The duchess was greatly distressed
by her brother's manœuvring. She saw that the course she must pursue was
not the course which he would prefer. Philip did not understand her
countrymen so well as she did.

[592] "En effet, le prince d'Orange et le comte d'Egmont, les seuls qui
se trouvassent à Bruxelles, montrèrent tant de tristesse et de
mécontentement de la courte et sèche réponse du Roi, qu'il était à
craindre qu'après qu'elle aurait été communiquée aux autres seigneurs,
il ne fût pris quelque résolution contraire au service du Roi."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 294.

[593] "Con la venida de Mons. de Chantonnay, mi hermano, á Bruxelles, y
su determinacion de encaminarse á estas partes, me paresció tomar color
de venir hazia acá, donde no havia estado en 19 años, y ver á madama de
Granvella, mi madre, que ha 14 que no la havia visto." Ibid., p. 298.

Granvelle seems to have fondly trusted that no one but Margaret was
privy to the existence of the royal letter,--"secret, and written with
the king's own hand." So he speaks of his departure in his various
letters as a spontaneous movement to see his venerable parent. The
secretary Perez must have smiled, as he read one of these letters to
himself, since an abstract of the royal despatch appears in his own
handwriting. The Flemish nobles also--probably through the regent's
secretary, Armenteros--appear to have been possessed of the true state
of the case. It was too good a thing to be kept secret.

[594] Schiller, Abfall der Niederlande, p. 147.

Among other freaks was that of a masquerade, at which a devil was seen
pursuing a cardinal with a scourge of foxes'tails. "Deinde sequebatur
diabolus, equum dicti cardinalis caudis vulpinis fustigans, magna cum
totius populi admiratione et scandalo." (Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle,
tom. VIII. p. 77.) The fox's tail was a punning allusion to Renard, who
took a most active and venomous part in the paper war that opened the
revolution. Renard, it may be remembered, was the imperial minister to
England in Queen Mary's time. He was the implacable enemy of Granvelle,
who had once been his benefactor.

[595] Strada, De Bello Belgico, pp. 161-164.--Vander Haer, De Initiis
Tumultuum Belgicorum, p. 166.--Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom.
II. p. 53.--Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 294, 295.

[596] The date is given by the prince of Orange in a letter to the
landgrave of Hesse, written a fortnight after the cardinal's departure.
(Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 226.) This fact,
public and notorious as it was, is nevertheless told with the greatest
discrepancy of dates. Hopper, one of Granvelle's own friends, fixes the
date of his departure at the latter end of May. (Recueil et Mémorial, p.
36.) Such discrepancies will not seem strange to the student of history.

[597] "Ejus inimici, qui in senatu erant, non aliter exultavêre quam
pueri abeunte ludimagistro." Vita Viglii, p. 38.

Hoogstraten and Brederode indulged their wild humor, as they saw the
cardinal leaving Brussels, by mounting a horse,--one in the saddle, the
other _en croupe_,--and in this way, muffled in their cloaks,
accompanying the traveller along the heights for half a league or more.
Granvelle tells the story himself, in a letter to Margaret, but
dismisses it as the madcap frolic of young men. Papiers d'Etat de
Granvelle, tom. VII. p. 410, 426.

[598] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 226.

[599] "Le comte d'Egmont lui a dit, entre autres, que, si le cardinal
revenait, indubitablement il perdrait la vie, et mettrait le Roi en
risque de perdre les Pays-Bas." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I.
p. 295.

[600] "Je n'ay entendu de personne chose dont je peusse concevoir
quelque doubte que vous ne fussiez, à l'endroit de mon service, tel que
je vous ay cogneu, ny suis si légier de prester l'oreille à ceulx qui me
tascheront de mettre en umbre d'ung personage de vostre qualité, et que
je cognois si bien." Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II.
p. 76.

[601] "Quiero de aquí adelante hazerme ciego y sordo, y tractar con mis
libros y negocios particulares, y dexar el público á los que tanto saben
y pueden, y componerme quanto al reposo y sossiego." Papiers d'Etat de
Granvelle, tom. VIII, p. 91.--A pleasing illusion, as old as the time of
Horace's "_Beatus ille_," &c.

[602] Gerlache, Royaume des Pays-Bas, tom. I. p. 79.

[603] "Vélà ma philosophie, et procurer avec tout cela de vivre le plus
joyeusement que l'on peut, et se rire du monde, des appassionnez, et de
ce qu'ilz dient sans fondement." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau,
tom. I. p. 240.

[604] "Ilz auront avant mon retour, que ne sera, à mon compte, plus tost
que d'icy à deux mois, partant au commencement de juing." Ibid., p. 236.

[605] This remarkable letter, dated Madrid, May 6, is to be found in the
Supplément à Strada, tom. II. p. 346.

[606] Hopper does not hesitate to regard this circumstance as a leading
cause of the discontents in Flanders. "Se voyans desestimez ou pour
mieux dire opprimez par les Seigneurs Espaignols, qui chassant les
autres hors du Conseil du Roy, participent seulz avecq iceluy, et
présument de commander aux Seigneurs et Chevaliers des Pays d'embas: ny
plus ni moins qu'ilz font à aultres de Milan, Naples, et Sicille; ce que
eulx ne veuillans souffrir en manière que ce soit, à esté et est la
vraye ou du moins la principale cause de ces maulx et altérations."
Recueil et Mémorial, p. 79.

[607] Viglius makes many pathetic complaints on this head, in his
letters to Granvelle. See Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I.
p. 319 et alibi.

[608] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 312, 332, et alibi.

[609] "Il faudrait envoyer le cardinal à Rome." Ibid., p. 329.

[610] Ibid., p. 295.

[611] Morillon, in a letter to Granvelle, dated July 9, 1564, tells him
of the hearty hatred in which he is held by the duchess; who, whether
she has been told that the minister only made her his dupe, or from
whatever cause, never hears his name without changing color. Papiers
d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VIII. p. 131.

[612] "Viglius lui fait souffrir les peines de l'enfer, en traversant
les mesures qu'exige le service du Roi." Ibid., p. 314.

[613] "Ils espèrent alors pêcher, comme on dit, en eau trouble, et
atteindre le but qu'ils poursuivent depuis longtemps: celui de s'emparer
de toutes les affaires. C'est pourquoi ils out été et sont encore
contraires à l'assemblée des états généraux.... Le cardinal, le
président et leur séquelle craignent, si la tranquillité se rétablit
dans le pays, qu'on ne lise dans leurs livres, et qu'on ne découvre
leurs injustices, simonies, et rapines." Ibid., p. 311.

[614] Ibid., p. 320 et alibi.

[615] "Ce qu'elle se résent le plus contre v. i. S. et contre moy, est
ce que l'avons si longuement gardé d'en faire son prouffit, qu'elle fait
maintenant des offices et bénéfices et aultres grâces." Archives de la
Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 406.

[616] "Ipsam etiam Ducissam in suam pertraxêre sententiam, honore etiam
majore quam antea ipsam afficientes, quo muliebris sexus facilè
capitur."--This remark, however, is taken, not from his correspondence
with Granvelle, but from his autobiography. See Vita Viglii, p. 40.

[617] The extortions of Margaret's secretary, who was said to have
amassed a fortune of seventy thousand ducats in her service, led the
people, instead of Armenteros, punningly to call him _Argenterios_. This
piece of scandal is communicated for the royal ear in a letter addressed
to one of the king's secretaries by Fray Lorenzo de Villacancio, of whom
I shall give a full account elsewhere. Gachard, Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. II., Rapport, p. xliii.

[618] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I., p. 273 et alibi.

[619] Granvelle regarded such a step as the only effectual remedy for
the disorders in the Low Countries. In a remarkable letter to Philip,
dated July 20, 1565, he presents such a view of the manner in which the
government is conducted as might well alarm his master. Justice and
religion are at the lowest ebb. Public offices are disposed of at
private sale. The members of the council indulge in the greatest freedom
in their discussions on matters of religion. It is plain that the
Confession of Augsburg would be acceptable to some of them. The truth is
never allowed to reach the king's ears; as the letters sent to Madrid
are written to suit the majority of the council, and so as not to give
an unfavorable view of the country. Viglius is afraid to write. There
are spies at the court, he says, who would betray his correspondence,
and it might cost him his life. Granvelle concludes by urging the king
to come in person, and with money enough to subsidize a force to support
him. Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VIII. p. 620 et seq.

[620] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 317.

[621] Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, p. 39.--Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 222.--Correspondance de Philippe II., tom.
I. p. 347 et alibi.

[622] The Spanish ambassador to England, Guzman de Silva, in a letter
dated from the Low Countries, refers this tendency among the younger
nobles to their lax education at home, and to their travels abroad. "La
noblesse du pays est généralement catholique: il n'y a que les jeunes
gens dont, à cause de l'éducation relachée qu'ils out reçue, et de leur
frequentation dans les pays voisins, les principes soient un peu
équivoques." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 383.

[623] "Se dice publico que ay medios para descargar todas las deudas del
Rey sin cargo del pueblo tomando los bienes de la gente de yglesia ó
parte conforme al ejemplo que se ha hecho en ynglaterra y francia y
tambien que ellos eran muy ricos y volberian mas templados y hombres de
bien." Renom de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, MS.

[624] "Leur office est devenu odieux au peuple; ils rencontrent tant de
résistances et de calomnies, qu'ils ne peuvent l'exercer sans danger
pour leurs personnes." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 353.

[625] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, tom. I. p. 147.

[626] Ibid., ubi supra.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, p.
174.--Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 321-327.

[627] Strada, De Bello Belgico, p. 172.--Correspondance de Philippe II.,
tom. I. p. 327 et alibi.

[628] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, tom. I. pp. 146-149.

[629] "La dépense excède annuellement les revenus, de 600,000 florins."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 328.

[630] "Quant à la moyenne noblesse des Pays-Bas, les Seigneurs l'auront
tantost à leur cordelle." Chantonnay to Granvelle, October 6, 1565,
Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 426.

[631] That Granvelle understood well these consequences of convening the
states-general is evident from the manner in which he repeatedly speaks
of this event in his correspondence with the king. See, in particular, a
letter to Philip, dated as early as August 20, 1563, where he sums up
his remarks on the matter by saying: "In fine, they would entirely
change the form of government, so that there would be little remaining
for the regent to do, as the representative of your majesty, or for your
majesty yourself to do, since they would have completely put you under
guardianship." Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VII. p. 186.

[632] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 329.

[633] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 14, 16.--Strada, De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 176.

[634] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 179.

[635] "Si, après avoir accepté le concile sans limitations dans tous ses
autres royaumes et seigneuries, il allait y opposer des réserves aux
Pays-Bas, cela produirait un fâcheux effet." Correspondance de Philippe
II., tom. I. p. 328.

[636] Yet whatever slight Philip may have put upon the lords in this
respect, he showed William, in particular, a singular proof of
confidence. The prince's _cuisine_, as I have elsewhere stated, was
renowned over the Continent; and Philip requested of him his _chef_, to
take the place of his own, lately deceased. But the king seems to lay
less stress on the skill of this functionary than on his
trustworthiness,--a point of greater moment with a monarch. This was a
compliment--in that suspicious age--to William, which, we imagine, he
would have been slow to return by placing his life in the hands of a
cook from the royal kitchens of Madrid. See Philip's letter in the
Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II p. 89.

[637] Margaret would fain have settled the dispute by giving the
countess of Egmont precedence at table over her fair rival. (Archives de
la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 445.) But both Anne of Saxony and
her household stoutly demurred to this decision,--perhaps to the right
of the regent to make it. "Les femmes ne se cédent en rien et se
tiegnent par le bras, _ingredientes pari passu_, et si l'on rencontre
une porte trop estroicte, l'on se serre l'ung sur l'aultre pour passer
également par ensamble, affin que il n'y ayt du devant ou derrière."
Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, Supplément, p. 22.

[638] There is a curious epistle, in Groen's collection, from William to
his wife's uncle, the elector of Saxony, containing sundry charges
against his niece. The termagant lady was in the habit, it seems, of
rating her husband roundly before company. William, with some _naïveté_,
declares he could have borne her ill-humor to a reasonable extent in
private, but in public it was intolerable. Unhappily, Anne gave more
serious cause of disturbance to her lord than that which arose from her
temper, and which afterwards led to their separation. On the present
occasion, it may be added, the letter was not sent,--as the lady, who
had learned the nature of it, promised amendment. Ibid., tom. II. p. 31.

[639] "Au cas que le Roi s'en excuse, il doit demander que S. M. donne à
la duchesse des instructions précises sur la conduite qu'elle a à
tenir." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 337.

The original instructions prepared by Viglius were subsequently modified
by his friend Hopper, at the suggestion of the prince of Orange. See
Vita Viglii, p. 41.

[640] Ibid., ubi supra.

[641] "Non posse ei placere, velle Principes animis hominum imperare,
libertatemque Fidei et Religionis ipsis adimere." Ibid., p. 42.

[642] Burgundius puts into the mouth of William on this occasion a fine
piece of declamation, in which he reviews the history of heresy from the
time of Constantine the Great downwards. This display of schoolboy
erudition, so unlike the masculine simplicity of the prince of Orange,
may be set down among those fine things, the credit of which may be
fairly given to the historian rather than to the hero.--Burgundius,
Hist. Belgica, (Ingolst., 1633,) pp. 126-131.

[643] "Itaque mane de lecto surgens, inter vestiendum apoplexiâ attactus
est, ut occurrentes domestici amicique in summo cum discrimine versari
judicarent." Vita Viglii, p. 42.

[644] "Elle conseille au Roi d'ordonner à Viglius de rendre ses comptes,
et de restituer les meubles des neuf maisons de sa prévôté de
Saint-Bavon, qu'il a dépouillées." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom.
I. p. 350.

[645] "Lui promettons, en foy de gentilhomme et chevalier d'honeur, si
durant son aller et retour lui adviene quelque inconvénient, que nous en
prendrons la vengeance sur le Cardinal de Granvelle ou ceux qui en
seront participans ou penseront de l'estre, et non sur autre." Archives
de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 345.

[646] This curions document, published by Arnoldi, (Hist. Denkw., p.
282,) has been transferred by Groen to the pages of his collection. See
Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, ubi supra.

[647] "Ibi tum offensus conviva, arreptam argenteam pelvim (quæ manibus
abluendis mensam fuerat imposita) injicere Archiepiscopo in caput
conatur: retinet pelvim Egmondanus: quod dum facit, en alter conviva
pugno in frontem Archiepiscopo eliso, pileum de capite deturbat." Vander
Haer, De Initiis Tumult, p. 190.

[648] If we are to trust Morillon's report to Granvelle, Egmont denied,
to some one who charged him with it, having recommended to Philip to
soften the edicts. (Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, Supplément,
p. 374.) But Morillon was too much of a gossip to be the best authority;
and, as this was understood to be one of the objects of the count's
mission, it will be but justice to him to take the common opinion that
he executed it.

[649] "Negavit accitos à se illos fuisse, ut docerent an permittere id
posset, sed an sibi necessariò permittendum præscriberent." Strada, De
Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 185.

[650] "Tum Rex in eorum conspectu, humi positus ante Christi Domini
simulacrum, 'Ego verò, inquit, Divinam Majestatem tuam oro, quæsoque,
Rex omnium Deus, hanc ut mihi mentem perpetuam velis, ne illorum, qui te
Dominum respuerint, uspiam esse me aut dici Dominum acquiescam.'" Ibid.,
ubi supra.

[651] "Il retourne en Flandre, l'homme le plus satisfait du monde."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 349.

[652] "En ce qui touche la religion, il déclare qu'il ne peut consentir
à ce qu'il y soit fait quelque changement; qu'il aimerait mieux perdre
cent mille vies, s'il les avait." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom.
I. p. 347.

[653] Ibid., ubi supra.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 187.

[654] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 347.

[655] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 92.

[656] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 364.

[657] "And everywhere great endeavors were used to deliver the
imprisoned, as soon as it was known how they were privately made away in
the prisons: for the inquisitors not daring any longer to carry them to
a public execution, this new method of despatching them, which the king
himself had ordered, was now put in practice, and it was commonly
performed thus: They bound the condemned person neck and heels, then
threw him into a tub of water, where he lay till he was quite
suffocated." Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p. 155.

[658] Ibid., tom. I. p. 154.

[659] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 361 et alibi.

[660] "Tout vat de demain à demain, et la principale résolution en
telles choses est de demeurer perpétuellement irrésolu." Archives de la
Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 426.

[661] "Il y en a qui sont plus Roys que le Roy." Ibid., ubi supra.

[662] "Le Roi aura bien de la peine à se montrer homme." Ibid., ubi
supra.

[663] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 358.

[664] "Le Roi peut être certain que, s'il accorde que les édits ne
s'exécutent pas, jamais plus le peuple ne souffrira qu'on châtie les
hérétiques; et les choses iront ainsi aux Pays-Bas beaucoup plus mal
qu'en France." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 323.

[665] Ibid., tom. I. p. 371.

[666] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 246.

[667] "Entendant seullement à mez affaires, ne bougeant de ma chambre
synon pour proumener, à faire exercice à l'église, et vers Madame, et
faisant mes dépesches où je doibtz correspondre, sans bruyct." Papiers
d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. IX. p. 639.

[668] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 326.

[669] "Il lui suffit, pour se contenter d'être ou il est, de savoir que
c'est la volonté du Roi, et cela lui suffira pour aller aux Indes, on en
quelque autre lieu que ce soit, et même pour se jeter dans le feu."
Ibid., p. 301.

[670] Ibid., p. 380.

[671] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 396.

[672] Ibid., p. 372.--Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, p. 57.

[673] "Car, quant à l'inquisition, mon intention est qu'elle se face par
les inquisiteurs, comm'elle s'est faicte jusques à maintenant, et
comm'il leur appertient par droitz divins et humains." Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. I., "Rapport," p. cxxix, note.

[674] Ibid., ubi supra.

[675] This letter was dated the twentieth of October. All hesitation
seems to have vanished in a letter addressed to Granvelle only two days
after, in which Philip says, "As to the proposed changes in the
government, there is not a question about them." "Quant aux changements
qu'on lui a écrit devoir se faire dans le gouvernement, il n'en est pas
question." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 375.

[676] Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 333.

[677] "Dieu sçait qué visaiges ils ont monstrez, et qué mescontentement
ils ont, voyans l'absolute volunté du Roy." Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I. p. 442.

[678] Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, p. 59.

[679] "Quâ conclusione acceptâ, Princeps Auriacencis cuidam in aurem
dixit (qui pòst id retulit) quasi lætus gloriabundusque: visuros nos
brevi egregiæ tragediæ initium." Vita Viglii, p. 45.

[680] "Une déclaration de guerre n'aurait pas fait plus d'impression sur
les esprits, que ces dépêches, quand la connaissance en parvint au
public." Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 94.

[681] "Se comienza á dar esperanza al pueblo de la libertad de
conciencia, de las mudanzas del gobierno." Renom de Francia, Alborotos
de Flandes, MS.

"Some demand a mitigation of the edicts; others," as Viglius peevishly
complains to Granvelle, "say that they want at least as much toleration
as is vouchsafed to Christians by the Turks, who do not persecute the
enemies of their faith as we persecute brethren of our own faith, for a
mere difference in the interpretation of Scripture!" (Archives de la
Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. I, p. 287.) Viglius was doubtless of the
opinion of M. Gerlache, that for Philip to have granted toleration would
have proved the signal for a general massacre. Vide Hist. du Royaume des
Pays-Bas, tom. I. p. 83.

[682] "On défiait les Espagnols de trouver aux Pays-Bas ces stupides
Américains et ces misérables habitans du Pérou, qu'on avait égorgés par
millions, quand on avait vu qu'ils ne savaient pas se défendre."
Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. I. p. 97

[683] See a letter of Morillon to Granvelle, January 27, 1566, Archives
de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, Supplément, p. 22.

[684] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 390.

[685] "Il a appris avec peine que le contenu de sa lettre, datée du bois
de Ségovie, a été mal accueilli aux Pays-Bas, ses intentions ne tendant
qu'au service de Dieu et au bien de ces Etats, comme l'amour qu'il leur
porte l'y oblige." Ibid., p. 400.

[686] Historians have usually referred the origin of the "Union" to a
meeting of nine nobles at Breda, as reported by Strada. (De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 208.) But we have the testimony of Junius himself to
the fact, as stated in the text; and this testimony is accepted by
Groen, who treads with a caution that secures him a good footing even in
the slippery places of history. (See Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 2.) Brandt also adopts the report of
Junius. (Reformation in the Low Countries, tom. I. p. 162.)

[687] "Inique et contraire à toutes loix divines et humaines, surpassant
la plus grande barbarie que oncques fut practiquée entre les tirans."
Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 3.

One might imagine that the confederates intended in the first part of
this sentence to throw the words of Philip back upon himself,--"Comme il
leur appertient par droitz divins et humains." Dépêche du Bois de
Ségovie, Octobre 17, 1565.

[688] "Affin de n'estre exposéz en proye à ceulx qui, soubs ombre de
religion, voudroient s'enrichir aux despens de nostre sang et de nos
biens." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 4.

[689] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 134.

[690] "De sorte que si un Prestre, un Espagnol, ou quelque mauvais
garnement veut mal, ou nuyre à autruy, par le moyen de l'Inquisition, il
pourra l'accuser, faire apprehender, voire faire mourir, soit à droit,
soit à tort." Supplément à Strada, tom. II. p. 300.

[691] "L'un des beaux caractères de ce temps." Borguet, Philippe II. et
la Belgique, p. 43.

[692] Ibid., ubi supra.

[693] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 209.

[694] "Mettant le tout en hazard de venir ès mains de nos voisins."
Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. p. 109.

[695] "J'aimerois mieulx, en cas que Sadicte Majesté ne le veuille
dilaier jusques à là, et dès à présent persiste sur cette inquisition et
exécution, qu'elle commisse quelque autre en ma place, mieulx entendant
les humeurs du peuple, et plus habile que moi à les maintenir en paix et
repos, plustost que d'encourir la note dont moi et les miens porrions
estre souillés, si quelque inconvénient advînt au pays de mon
gouvernement, et durant ma charge." Ibid., ubi supra.

[696] "Addidere aliqui, nolle se in id operam conferre, ut quinquaginta
aut sexaginta hominum millia, se Provincias administrantibus, igni
concrementur." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 203.

[697] Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. p. 112.

[698] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 378.

[699] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 33.

[700] "A ce propos le duc d'Albe répondit que dix mille grenouilles ne
valoient pas la tête d'un saumon." Sismondi, Hist. des Français, tom.
XVIII. p. 447.

Davila, in telling the same story, reports the saying of the duke in
somewhat different words:--"Diceva che ... besognava pescare i pesci
grossi, e non si curare di prendere le ranocchie." Guerre Civili di
Francia, (Milano, 1807,) tom. I. p. 341.

[701] Henry the Fourth, when a boy of eleven years of age, was in the
train of Catherine, and was present at one of her interviews with Alva.
It is said that he overheard the words of the duke quoted in the text,
and that they sank deep into the mind of the future champion of
Protestantism. Henry reported them to his mother, Jeanne d'Albret, by
whom they were soon made public. Sismondi, Hist. des Français, tom.
XVIII. p. 447.--For the preceding paragraph see also De Thou, Hist.
Universelle, tom. V. p. 34 et seq.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI.
cap. 23.--Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. V. p. 58 et seq.

[702] It is a common opinion that, at the meeting at Bayonne, it was
arranged between the queen-mother and Alva to revive the tragedy of the
Sicilian Vespers in the horrid massacre of St. Bartholomew. I find,
however, no warrant for such an opinion in the letters of either the
duke or Don Juan Manrique de Lara, major-domo to Queen Isabella, the
originals of which are still preserved in the Royal Library at Paris. In
my copy of these MSS. the letters of Alva to Philip the Second cover
much the larger space. They are very minute in their account of his
conversation with the queen-mother. His great object seems to have been,
to persuade her to abandon her temporizing policy, and, instead of
endeavoring to hold the balance between the contending parties, to
assert, in the most uncompromising manner, the supremacy of the Roman
Catholics. He endeavored to fortify her in this course by the example of
his own master, the king of Spain, repeating Philip's declaration, so
often quoted, under various forms, that "he would surrender his kingdom,
nay life itself, rather than reign over heretics."

While the duke earnestly endeavored to overcome the arguments of
Catherine de Medicis in favor of a milder, more rational, and, it may be
added, more politic course in reference to the Huguenots, he cannot
justly be charged with having directly recommended those atrocious
measures which have branded her name with infamy. Yet, on the other
hand, it cannot be denied that this bloody catastrophe was a legitimate
result of the policy which he advised.

[703] "On voit journellement gens de ce pays aller en Angleterre, avec
leurs familles et leurs instruments; et jà Londres, Zandvich et le pays
allenviron est si plain, que l'on dit que le nombre surpasse 30,000
testes." Assonleville to Granvelle, January 15, 1565, Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. I. p. 392.

[704] "Il y a longtemps que ces Païs-Bas sont les Indes d'Angleterre,
et, tant qu'ilz les auront, ilz n'en ont besoing d'aultres." Ibid., p.
382.

[705] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, tom. I. fol. 39, 40.--Correspondance
de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 17.

[706] Supplèment à Strada, tom. II. p. 293.

[707] Ibid., ubi supra.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 212.

[708] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 402.--Strada, De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 212.--Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne. tom.
II. p. 132.

[709] Supplément à Strada, tom. II. p. 294.

[710] "Ostant l'Inquisition, qui en ce temps est tant odieuse ... et ne
sert quasi de riens, pour estre les Sectaires assez cognuz; modérant
quant et quant la rigeur des Placcarts ... publiant aussy quant et quant
pardon general pour ceulx qui se sont meslez de laditte Ligue." Ibid.,
p. 295.

[711] "Le Prince d'Oranges et le Comte de Hornes disoyent en plain
conseil qu'ils estoyent d'intention de se voulloir retirer en leurs
maisons, ... se deuillans mesmes le dit Prince, que l'on le tenoit pour
suspect et pour chief de ceste Confédération." Extract from the Procès
d'Egmont, in the Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 42.

[712] "De laquelle estant advertis quelques quinze jours après, devant
que les confédérés se trouvassent en court, nous déclarames ouvertement
et rondemen qu'elle ne nous plaisoit pas, et que ce ne nous sambloit
estre le vray moyen pour maintenir le repos et tranquillité publique."
Extract from the "Justification" of William, (1567,) in the Archives de
la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 11.

[713] This fact rests on the authority of a MS. ascribed to Junius.
(Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p. 162.) Groen,
however, distrusts the authenticity of this MS. (Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 12.) Yet, whatever may be thought of the
expedition against Antwerp, it appears from William's own statement that
the confederates did meditate some dangerous enterprise, from which he
dissuaded them. See his "Apology," in Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom.
V. p. 392.

[714] "Les estatz-généraulx ayans pleine puissance, est le seul remède à
nos maulx; nous avons le moyen en nostre povoir sans aucune doubte de
les faire assembler, mais on ne veult estre guéri." Archives de la
Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 37.

[715] "Ils veullent que à l'obstination et endurcissement de ces loups
affamez nous opposions remonstrances, requestes et en fin parolles, là
où de leur costé ils ne cessent de brusler, coupper testes, bannir et
exercer leur rage en toutes façons. Nous avons le moyen de les refrener
sans trouble, sans difficulté, sans effusion de sang, sans guerre, et on
ne le veult. Soit donques, prenons la plume et eux l'espée, nous les
parolles, eux le faict." Ibid., p. 36.

[716] "Ire Ma^{t.} gar ernstlich bevelt das man nitt allain die sich in
andere leren so begeben, sol verbrennen, sonder auch die sich widderumb
bekeren, sol koppen lasen; welges ich wahrlich im hertzen hab gefült,
dan bei mir nit finden kan das cristlich noch thunlich ist." Ibid., tom.
I. p. 440.

[717] Ibid., tom. II. p. 30.

[718] Ibid., tom. I. p. 432.

[719] Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, p. 67.

[720] "Tant y a que craignant qu'il n'en suivit une très dangereuse
issue et estimant que cette voye estoit la plus douce et vrayment
juridique, je confesse n'avoir trouvé mauvais que la Requeste fut
presentée." Apology, in Dumont, tom. V. p. 392.

[721] "He escripto diversas vezes que era bien ganar á M. d'Aigmont; él
es de quien S. M. puede hechar mano y confiar mas que de todos los
otros, y es amigo de humo, y haziéndole algun favor extraordinario
señalado que no se haga á otros, demas que será ganarle mucho, pondrá
zelos á los otros." Granvelle to Gonzalo Perez, June 27, 1563, Papiers
d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VII. p. 115.

[722] "Il est tant lyé avec les Seigneurs, qu'il n'y a moien de le
retirer et pour dire vray, _nutat in religione_, et ce qu'il dira en ce
aujourd'huy, il dira tout le contraire lendemain." Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, Supplément, p. 25.

[723] "Ce seigneur est à présent celui qui parle le plus, et que les
autres mettent en avant, pour dire les choses qu'ils n'oseraient dire
eux-mêmes." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 391.

[724] "Le prince d'Orange procède avec plus de finesse que M. d'Egmont:
il a plus de crédit en général et en particulier, et, si l'on pouvait le
gagner, on s'assurerait de tout le reste." Ibid., ubi supra.

[725] Correspondance de Philippe II, tom. I. pp. 399, 401.

[726] "Libello ab Orangio cæterisque in lenius verborum genus
commutato." Vander Haer, De Initiis Tumultuum, p. 207.

Alonzo del Canto, the royal _contador_, takes a different, and by no
means so probable a view of William's amendments. "Quand les seigneurs
tenaient leurs assemblées secrètes à Bruxelles, c'était en la maison du
prince d'Orange, où ils entraient de nuit par la porte de derrière: ce
fut là que la requête des confédérés fut modifiée et rendue pire."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 411.

[727] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 59 et seq.

[728] Strade, De Bello Belico, tom. I. p. 213.

[729] "Hommes genti Nassaviæ infensissimos de nece ipsius, deque
fortunarum omnium publicatione agitavisse cum Rege." Ibid., p. 215. See
also Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 403.

[730] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 404.

[731] "Ils répondirent qu'ils ne voulaient pas se battre pour le
maintien de l'inquisition et des placards, mais qu'ils le feraient pour
la conservation du pays." Ibid., ubi supra.

[732] "Eo ipso die sub vesperam conjurati Bruxellas advenere. Erant illi
in equis omnino ducenti, forensi veste ornati, gestabantque singuli bina
ante ephippium sclopeta, præibat ductor Brederodius, juxtàque Ludovicus
Nassavius." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 221.

[733] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. pp. 74, 75.

[734] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 221.

[735] Ibid., ubi supra.

[736] Ibid., pp. 222, 226.--Vandervynckt, Troubles de Pays-Bas, tom. II.
p. 138.--Meteren, Hist. de Pays-Bas, fol. 40.

[737] "Nobiles enixi eam rogare, ut proferat nomina eorum qui hoc
detulere: cogatque illos accusationem legitimè ac palàm adornare."
Strada, De Bello Belgico tom. I. p. 222.

[738] "Quando nonnisi Regis dignitatem, patriæque salutem spectabant,
haud dubiè postulatis satisfacturam." Ibid., ubi supra.

[739] The copy of this document given by Groen is from the papers of
Count Louis of Nassau. Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II.
pp. 80-84.

[740] "Lesquels ne doibvent espérer, sinon toute chose digne et conforme
à _sa bénignité naifve et accoustumée_." Ibid., p. 84.

The phrase must have sounded oddly enough in the ears of the
confederates.

[741] "Pendant que s'attend sa responce, Son Alteze donnera ordre, que
tant par les inquisiteurs, où il y en a eu jusques ores, que par les
officiers respectivement, soit procédé discrètement et modestement."
Ibid. p. 85.

[742] "Ne desirons sinon d'ensuyvre tout ce que par Sa Ma^{té}. avecq
l'advis et consentement des éstats-généraulx assambléz serat ordonné
pour le maintenement de l'anchienne religion." Ibid., p. 86.

[743] "Vous prians de ne passer plus avant par petites practicques
secrètes et de attirer plus personne." Ibid., p. 88.

[744] "De bonne part et pour le service du Roy." Ibid., p. 89.

[745] "Et comme ma dite dame respondit qu'elle le croyt ainsy,
n'affermant nullement en quelle part elle recevoit nostre assemblée, luy
fut replicqué par le dit S^r de Kerdes: Madame, il plairast à V. A. en
dire ce qu'elle en sent, à quoy elle respondit qu'elle ne pouvoit
juger." Ibid., ubi supra.--See also Strada, (De Bello Belgico, tom. I.
p. 225,) who, however, despatches this interview with the Seigneur de
Kerdes in a couple of sentences.

[746] Count Louis drew up a petition to the duchess, or rather a
remonstrance, requesting her to state the motives of this act, that
people might not interpret it into a condemnation of their proceedings.
To this Margaret replied, with some spirit, that it was her own private
affair, and she claimed the right that belonged to every other
individual, of managing her own household in her own way.--One will
readily believe that Louis did not act by the advice of his brother in
this matter. See the correspondence as collected by the diligent Groen,
Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. pp. 100-105.

[747] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bays fol. 41.

[748] "Illum quidem, ut Gubernatricis animum firmaret, ita locutum,
quasi nihil ei à mendicis ac nebulonibus pertimescendum esset." Strada,
De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 226.

[749] "Se verò libenter appellationem illam, quæ ea cumque esset,
accipere, ac Regis patriæque causâ Gheusios se mendicosque re ipsâ
futuros." Ibid., ubi supra.

[750] Ibid., ubi supra.--Vander Haer, De Initiis Tumultuum, p.
211.--Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 149.--Vandervynckt,
Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 142 et seq.--This last author tells
the story with uncommon animation.

[751] So says Strada. (De Bello Belgico, tom. II. p. 227.) But the
duchess, in a letter written in cipher to the king, tells him that the
three lords pledged the company in the same toast of "_Vivent les
Gueux_," that had been going the rounds of the table. "Le prince
d'Oranges et les comtes d'Egmont et de Hornes vinrent à la maison de
Culembourg après de dîner; ils burent avec les confédérés, et crièrent
aussi _vivent les gueux_!" Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p.
409.

[752] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 227.--Vandervynckt Troubles
des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 143.

The word _gueux_ is derived by Vander Haer from _Goth_, in the old
German form, _Geute_. "Eandem esse eam vocem gallicam quæ esset Teutonum
vox, Geuten, quam maiore vel Gothis genti Barbaræ tribuissent, vel odio
Gothici nominis convicium fecissent." De Initiis Tumultuum, p. 212.

[753] Vander Haer, De Initiis Tumultuum, loc. cit.--Strada, De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 228.

Arend, in his Algemeene Geschiedenis des Vaderlands, has given
engravings of these medals, on which the devices and inscriptions were
not always precisely the same. Some of these mendicant paraphernalia are
still to be found in ancient cabinets in the Low Countries, or were in
the time of Vandervynckt. See his Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p.
143.

[754] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 228.--Vander Haer, De Initiis
Tumultuum, p. 212.

[755] "En sortant de la porte de la ville, ils ont fait une grande
décharge de leurs pistolets." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p.
408.

[756] "Vos si mecum in hoc preclaro opere consentitis, agite, et qui
vestrum salvam libertatem, me duce volent, propinatum hoc sibi poculum,
benevolentiæ meæ significationem genialiter accipiant, idque manûs
indicio contestentur." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 231.

[757] "Estans mesmes personnages si prudes, discrets et tant imbus de
tout ce que convient remonstrer a V. M., outre l'affection que j'ay
toujours trouvé en eux, tant adonnez au service d'icelle."
Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 24.

[758] "Crederes id ab illius accidisse genio, qui non contentus
admonendo aurem ei vellicasse, nunc quasi compedibus injectis, ne
infaustum iter ingrederetur, attineret pedes." Strada, de Bello Belgico,
tom. I. p. 235.

[759] "Les seules réponses qu'il ait obtenues de S. M., sont qu'elle y
pensera, que ces affaires sont de grande importance, etc."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 426.

[760] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 41.--Hopper, Recueil et
Mémorial, p. 78.--Vander Haer, De Initiis Tumultuum, p. 216.

[761] "Ceste moderation, que le comun peuple apelloit meurderation."
Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 41.

[762] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. pp. 233, 234, 239.--Brandt,
Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p. 170.--See the forged
document mentioned in the text in the Supplément à Strada, tom. II. p.
330.

[763] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 150 et
seq.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. pp. 239, 240.--Correspondance de
Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 127.

[764] Languet, Epist. secr., quoted by Groen, Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 180.--See also Strada, De Bello Belgico,
tom. I. p. 241.--Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, tom. I. p.
172.

[765] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, ubi supra.

[766] Ibid., p. 173.

[767] Ibid., p. 171.

[768] "Se y sont le dimanche dernier encoires faict deux presches, l'une
en françois l'autre en flamand, en plein jour, et estoient ces deux
assemblées de 13 à 14 mille personnes." Correspondance de Marguerite
d'Autriche, p. 65.

[769] Ibid., pp. 80-88.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p.
243.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 42.--Correspondance de Philippe
II., tom. I. p. 433.

A Confession of Faith, which appeared in 1563, was revised by a
Calvinistic synod, and reprinted in Antwerp, in May of the present year,
1566. The prefatory letter addressed to King Philip, in which the
Reformers appealed to their creed and to their general conduct as
affording the best refutation of the calumnies of their enemies, boldly
asserted that their number in the Netherlands at that time was at least
a hundred thousand. Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p.
158.

[770] "La Duquesa, ya demasiado informada de las platicas inclinaciones
y disimulaciones de este Principe, defirió á resolverse en ello." Renom
de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, cap. 15, MS.

[771] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 244.

[772] A mob of no less than thirty thousand men, according to William's
own statement. "A mon semblant, trouvis, tant hors que dedans la ville,
plus de trente mil hommes." Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne,
tom. II. p. 136.

[773] "Viderent, per Deum, quid agerent: ne, si pergerent, eos aliquando
pœniteret." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 244.

[774] For the account of the proceedings at Antwerp, see Correspondance
de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. pp. 136, 138, 140 et seq.--Strada,
De Bello Belgico, tom. I. pp. 244-248.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas,
fol. 42.--Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, pp. 90, 91.--Brandt, Reformation
in the Low Countries, vol. I. pp. 173-176.--Renom de Francia, Alborotos
de Flandes, MS.

[775] "Insignia etiam à mercatoribus usurpari cœpta." Strada, De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 238.

[776] "Ils auraient prêché hors de Bruxelles, si Madame n'y avait
pourvu, allant jusqu'à dire qu'avec sa personne, sa maison et sa garde,
elle s'y opposerait, et ferait pendre en sa présence les ministres."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 447.

[777] "So pena de proceder contra los Predicadores ministros y
semejantes con el ultimo suplicio y confiscacion de hacienda por
aplicarlo al provecho de los que havian la apprehension de ellos y por
falta de hacienda, su magestad madará librar del suyo seiscientos
florines." Renom de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, MS.

[778] "Je suis forcée avecq douleur et angoisse d'esprit lui dire de
rechief que nonobstant tous les debvoirs que je fais journellement, ...
je ne puis remédier ny empescher les assemblées des presches
publicques." Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 72.

[779] "Sains aide et sans ordres, de manière que, dans tout ce qu'elle
fait, elle doit aller en tâtonnant et au hasard." Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. II. p. 428.

[780] "Le prince se prépare de longue main à la défense qu'il sera forcé
de faire contre le Roi." Ibid., p. 431.

It was natural that the relations of William with the party of reform
should have led to the persuasion that he had returned to the opinions
in which ha had been early educated. These were Lutheran. There is no
reason to suppose that at the present time he had espoused the doctrines
of Calvin. The intimation of Armenteros respecting the prince's change
of religion seems to have made a strong impression on Philip. On the
margin of the letter he wrote against the passage, "No one has said this
so unequivocally before;"--"No lo ha escrito nadie así claro."

[781] "Vos os engañariades mucho en pensar que yo no tubiese toda
confianza de vos, y quando hubiese alguno querido hazer oficio con migo
en contrario á esto, no soy tan liviano que hubiese dado credito á ello,
teniendo yo tanta esperiencia de vuestra lealtad y de vuestros
servicios." Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. p. 171.

[782] "Que le roi, résolu de les tromper tous, commençait par tromper sa
sœur." Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bays, tom. II. p. 148.

[783] This responsibility is bluntly charged on them by Renom de
Francia. "El dia de las predicaciones oraciones y cantos estando
concertado, se acordó con las principales villas que fuese el San Juan
siguiente y de continuar en adelante, primero en los Bosques y montañas,
despues en los arrabales y Aldeas y pues en las villas, por medida que
el numero, la andacia y sufrimiento creciese." Alborotos de Flandes, MS.

[784] "Qui vulgari joco duodecim Apostoli dicebantur." Strada, De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 248.

[785] "S'est mise en une telle colère contre nous, qu'elle a pensé
crever." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 178.

[786] "Alioqui externa remedia quamvis invitos postremò quæsituros."
Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 248.

[787] The memorials are given at length by Groen, Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. pp. 159-167.

[788] See the letter of Louis to his brother dated July 26, 1566, Ibid.,
p. 178.

[789] The person who seems to have principally served her in this
respectable office was a "doctor of law," one of the chief counsellors
of the confederates. Count Megen, her agent on the occasion, bribed the
doctor by the promise of a seat in the council of Brabant.
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 435.

[790] "Le tout est en telle désordre," she says in one of her letters,
"que, en la pluspart du païs, l'on est sans loy, foy, ni roy."
Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 91.

Anarchy could not be better described in so few words.

[791] "Il ne reste plus sinon qu'ils s'assemblent et que, joincts
ensemble, ils se livrent à faire quelque sac d'églises villes, bourgs,
ou païs, de quoy je suis en merveilleusement grande crainte;"
Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 121.

[792] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 432.

[793] The fullest account of the doings of the council is given by
Hopper, one of its members. Recueil et Mémorial, pp. 81-87.

[794] "Ceux du conseil d'Etat sont étonnés du délai que le Roi met à
répondre." Montigny to Margaret, July 21. Correspondance de Philippe
II., tom. I. p. 434.

[795] "Pour l'inclination naturelle que j'ay toujours eu de traieter mes
vassaulx et subjects plus par voye d'amour et clémence, que de crainte
et de rigeur, je me suis accommodé à tout ce que m'a esté possible."
Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 100.

[796] "Ay treuvé convenir et nécessaire que l'on conçoive certaine
aultre forme de modération de placcart par delà, ayant égard que la
saincte foy catholique et mon authorité soyent gardées ... et y feray
tout ce que possible sera." Ibid., p. 103.

[797] "N'abhorrissant riens tant que la voye de rigeur." Ibid., ubi
supra.

[798] "Y assí vos no lo consentais, ni yo lo consentiré tan poco."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 439.

[799] "Pero no conviene que esto se entienda allá, ni que vos teneis
esta órden mia, sino es para lo de agora, pero que la esperais para
adelante, no desesperando ellos para entonces dello." Ibid., ubi supra.

[800] Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, pp. 106, 114.

[801] "Comme il ne l'a pas fait librement, ni spontanément, il n'entend
être lié par cette autorisation, mais au contraire il se réserve de
punir les coupables, et principalement ceux qui ont été les auteurs et
fauteurs des séditions." Correspondance de Philippe II, tom. I. p. 443.

One would have been glad to see the original text of this protest, which
is in Latin, instead of M. Gachard's abstract.

[802] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 236.

Among those who urged the king to violent measures, no one was so
importunate as Fray Lorenzo de Villacancio, an Augustin monk, who
distinguished himself by the zeal and intrepidity with which he ventured
into the strongholds of the Reformers, and openly denounced their
doctrines. Philip, acquainted with the uncompromising temper of the man,
and his devotion to the Catholic Church, employed him both as an agent
and an adviser in regard to the affairs of the Low Countries. where Fray
Lorenzo was staying in the earlier period of the troubles. Many of the
friar's letters to the king are still preserved in Simancas, and
astonish one by the boldness of their criticisms on the conduct of the
ministers, and even of the monarch himself, whom Lorenzo openly accuses
of a timid policy towards the Reformers.

In a memorial on the state of the country, prepared, at Philip's
suggestion, in the beginning of 1566, Fray Lorenzo urges the necessity
of the most rigorous measures towards the Protestants in the
Netherlands. "Since your majesty holds the sword which God has given to
you, with the divine power over our lives, let it be drawn from the
scabbard, and plunged in the blood of the heretics, if you do not wish
that the blood of Jesus Christ, shed by these barbarians, and the blood
of the innocent Catholics whom they have oppressed, should cry aloud to
Heaven for vengeance on the sacred head of your majesty!... The holy
king David showed no pity for the enemies of God. He slew them, sparing
neither man nor woman. Moses and his brother, in a single day, destroyed
three thousand of the children of Israel. An angel, in one night, put to
death more than sixty thousand enemies of the Lord. Your majesty is a
king, like David; like Moses, a captain of the people of Jehovah; an
angel of the Lord,--for so the Scriptures style the kings and captains
of his people;--and these heretics are the enemies of the living God!"
And in the same strain of fiery and fanatical eloquence he continues to
invoke the vengeance of Philip on the heads of his unfortunate subjects
in the Netherlands.

That the ravings of this hard-hearted bigot were not distasteful to
Philip may be inferred from the fact that he ordered a copy of his
memorial to be placed in the hands of Alva, on his departure for the Low
Countries. It appears that he had some thoughts of sending Fray Lorenzo
to join the duke there,--a project which received little encouragement
from the latter, who probably did not care to have so meddlesome a
person as this frantic friar to watch his proceedings.

An interesting notice of this remarkable man is to be found in Gachard,
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II., Rapport, pp. xvi.-1.

[803] "Y por la priesa que dieron en esto, no ubo tiempo de consultarlo
á Su Santidad, como fuera justo, y quiza avra sido así mejor, pues no
vale nada, sino quitandola Su Santidad que es que la pone; pero en esto
conviene que aya el secreto que puede considerar." Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. I. p. 445.

[804] "Y en esto conviene el mismo secreto que en lo de arriba." Ibid.,
ubi supra.

These injunctions of secrecy are interpolations in the handwriting of
the "prudent" monarch himself.

[805] "Perderé todos mis estados, y cien vidas que tuviesse, porque yo
no pienso ni quiero ser señor de hereges." Ibid., p. 446.

[806] "Et, au regard de la convocation des dicts Estats généraulx, comme
je vous ay escript mon intention, je ne treuve qu'il y a matière pour la
changer ne qu'il conviengne aulcunement qu'elle se face en mon absence,
mesmes comme je suis si prest de mon partement." Correspondance de
Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 165.

[807] Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. III. p. 321.

[808] "Accendunt animos Ministri, fugienda non animo modò, sed et
corpore idola: eradicari, extirpari tantam summi Dei contumeliam
opportere affirmant." Vander Haer, De Initiis Tumultuum, p. 236.

[809] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. pp. 250-252.--Vander Haer, De
Initiis Tumultuum, p. 232 et seq.--Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, p.
96.--Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, pp. 183, 185.

[810] "Si Mariette avait peur, qu'elle se retirât sitôt en son nid."
Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II., Préface, p. lii.

[811] Ibid., ubi supra.

[812] "Nullus ex eo numero aut casu afflictus, aut ruinâ oppressus
decidentium ac transvolantium fragmentorum, aut occursu collisuque
festinantium cum fabrilibus armis levissimè sauciatus sit." Strada, De
Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 257.

"No light argument," adds the historian, "that with God's permission the
work was done under the immediate direction of the demons of Hell!"

[813] Ibid., pp. 255-258.--Vander Haer, De Initiis Tumultuum, p. 237 et
seq.--Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p.
193.--Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II., Préface, pp.
liii, liv.

[814] "Pro focis pugnatur interdum acriùs quàm pro aris." Strada, De
Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 260.

[815] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p. 201.

[816] But the Almighty, to quote the words of a contemporary, jealous of
his own honor, took signal vengeance afterwards on all those towns and
villages whose inhabitants had stood tamely by, and seen the profanation
of his temples.--"Dios que es justo y zelador de su honra por caminos y
formas incomprehensibles, lo ha vengado despues cruelmente, por que
todos esos lugares donde esas cosas han acontecido ban sido tomados,
saqueados, despojados y arruinados por guerra, pillage, peste y
incomodidades, en que, asi los males y culpados, como los buenos por su
sufrimiento y connivencia, han conocido y confesado que Dios ha sido
corrido contra ellos." Renom de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, MS.

[817] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 259.

[818] "En tous ces monastères et cloistres, ils abattent touttes
sépultures des comtes et comtesses de Flandres et aultres."
Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 183.

[819] "Hic psittaco sacrosanctum Domini corpus porrigerent: Hic ex
ordine collocatis imaginibus ignem subijeerent, cadentibus insultarent:
Hic statuis arma induerent, in armatos depugnarent, deiectos, Viuant
Geusij clamare imperarent, ut ad scopum sic ad Christi imaginem
iaculaturi collimarent, libros bibliothecarum butiro inunctos in ignem
conijcerent, sacris vestibus summo ludibrio per vicos palàm vterentur."
Vander Haer, De Initiis Tumultuum, p. 238.

[820] Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, p. 98.

[821] Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 182.

[822] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 260.

[823] "Y de lo que venia del saco de la plateria y cosas sagradas de la
yglesia (que algunos ministros y los del consistorio juntavan en una)
distribuyendo á los fieles reformados algunos frutos de su reformacion,
para contentar á los hambrientos." Renom de Francia, Alborotos de
Flandes, MS.

[824] "Haciéndoles pagar el precio de los azotes con que fueron
azotados." Ibid.

[825] "Il répondit que la première chose à faire était de conserver
l'Etat; que, ensuite on s'occuperait des choses de la religion. Elle
répliqua, non sans humeur, qu'il lui paraissait plus nécessaire de
pourvoir d'abord à ce qu'exigeait le service de Dieu, parce que la ruine
de la religion serait un plus grand mal, que la perte du pays."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 449.

[826] "Il repartit que tous ceux qui avaient quelque chose à perdre, ne
l'entendaient pas de cette manière." Ibid., p. 450.

[827] Vide ante, p. 265.

[828] "Et me disoient..... que les sectaires voulloient venir tuer, en
ma présence, tous les prestres, gens d'église et catholicques."
Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 188.

[829] "La duchesse se trouve sans conseil ni assistance, pressée par
l'ennemi au dedans et au dehors." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom.
I. p. 455.

[830] "Nonobstant touttes ces raisons et remonstrances, par plusieurs et
divers jours, je n'y ay voullu entendre, donnant par plusieurs fois
soupirs et signe de douleur et angoisse de cœur, jusques à là que, par
aulcuns jours, la fiebvre m'a détenue, et ay passé plusieurs nuiets sans
repos." Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 194.

[831] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 454.

[832] "Egmont a tenu le même langage, en ajoutant qu'on lèverait 40,000
hommes, pour aller assiéger Mons." Ibid., ubi supra.

[833] Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 196.--Strada, De Bello
Belgico tom. I. p. 266.--Vita Viglii, p. 48.--Hopper, Recueil et
Mémorial, p. 99.

[834] At Margaret's command, a detailed account of the circumstances
under which these concessions were extorted from her was drawn up by the
secretary Berty. This document is given by Gachard, Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. II., Appendix, p. 588.

[835] The particulars of the agreement are given by Meteren, Hist. des
Pays-Bas, fol. 45. See also Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries,
vol. I. p. 204.--Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. pp.
455, 459.--Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. cxliv.

[836] "Elle le supplie d'y venir promptement, à main armée, afin de le
conquérir de nouveau." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 453.

[837] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. II. p. 177.

[838] Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. pp. 220, 223,
231, 233; Préface, pp. lxii.-lxiv.

[839] The document is given entire by Groen, Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 429 et seq.

[840] Tiepolo, the Venetian minister at the court of Castile at this
time, in his report made on his return, expressly acquits the French
nobles of what had been often imputed to them, having a hand in these
troubles. Their desire for reform only extended to certain crying
abuses; but, in the words of his metaphor, the stream which they would
have turned to the irrigation of the ground soon swelled to a terrible
inundation.--"Contra l'opinion de'principali della lega, che volevano
indur timore et non tanto danno.... Dico che questo fu perchè essi non
hebbero mai intentione di ribellarsi dal suo sigre ma solamente con
questi mezzi di timore impedir che non si introducesse in quei stati il
tribunal dell'Inquisitione." Relatione di M. A. Tiepolo, 1567, MS.

[841] "En supposant que le Roi voulût admettre deux religions (ce
qu'elle ne pouvait croire), elle ne voulait pas, elle, être l'exécutrice
d'une semblable détermination; qu'elle se laisserait plutôt mettre en
pièces." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 453.

[842] The report of this curious dialogue, somewhat more extended than
in these pages, is to be found in the Vita Viglii, p. 47.

[843] "En paroles et en faits, ils se sont déclarés contre Dieu et
contre le Roi." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 453.

[844] Ibid., ubi supra.

[845] "Le président, qu'on menace de tous côtés d'assommer et de mettre
en pièces, est devenu d'une timidité incroyable." Ibid., p. 460.

Viglius, in his "Life," confirms this account of the dangers with which
he was threatened by the people, but takes much more credit to himself
for presence of mind than the duchess seems willing to allow. Vita
Viglii, p. 48.

[846] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 255, 260.

[847] "Disant n'avoir aulcun d'elle, mais bien de Vostre Majesté,
laquelle n'avoit esté content me laisser en ma maison, mais m'avoit
commandé me trouver à Bruxelles vers Son Altesse, ou avoie receu tant de
facheries." Supplément à Strada, tom. II. p. 505.

[848] "Ne me samblant debvoir traicter affaires de honneur avecq Dames."
Ibid., ubi supra.

[849] "They tell me," writes Morillon to Granvelle, "it is quite
incredible how old and gray Egmont has become. He does not venture to
sleep at night without his sword and pistols by his bedside!" (Archives
de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, Supplément, p. 36.) But there was no
pretence that at this time Egmont's life was in danger. Morillon, in his
eagerness to cater for the cardinal's appetite for gossip, did not
always stick at the improbable.

[850] "Il leur en coûtera cher (s'écria-t-il en se tirant la barbe), il
leur en coûtera cher; j'en jure par l'âme de mon père." Gachard,
Analectes Belgiques, p. 254.

[851] "De tout cela (disje) ne se perdit un seul moment en ce temps, non
obstant la dicte maladie de Sa Majte, la quelle se monstra semblablement
selon son bon naturel, en tous ces negoces et actions tousjours tant
modeste, et temperée et constante en iceulx affaires, quelques extremes
qu'ilz fussent, que jamais l'on n'a veu en icelle signal, ou de passion
contre les personnes d'une part, ou de relasche en ses negoces de
l'aultre." Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, p. 104.

[852] At this period stops the "Recueil et Mémorial des Troubles des
Pays-Bas" of Joachim Hopper, which covers a hundred quarto pages of the
second volume (part second) of Hoynck van Papendrecht's "Analecta
Belgica." Hopper was a jurist, a man of learning and integrity. In 1566
he was called to Madrid, raised to the post of keeper of the seals for
the affairs of the Netherlands, and made a member of the council of
state. He never seems to have enjoyed the confidence of Philip in
anything like the degree which Granvelle and some other ministers could
boast; for Hopper was a Fleming. Yet his situation in the cabinet made
him acquainted with the tone of sentiment as well as the general policy
of the court; while, as a native of Flanders, he could comprehend,
better than a Spaniard, the bearing this policy would have on his
countrymen. His work, therefore, is of great importance as far as it
goes. It is difficult to say why it should have stopped _in mediis_, for
Hopper remained still in office, and died at Madrid ten years after the
period to which he brings his narrative. He may have been discouraged by
the remarks of Viglius, who intimates, in a letter to his friend, that
the chronicler should wait to allow time to disclose the secret springs
of action. See the Epistolæ ad Hopperum, p. 419.

[853] Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 206.

[854] "Questo è il nuvolo che minaccia ora i nostri paesi; e n'uscirà la
tempesta forse prima che non si pensa. Chi la prevede ne dà l'avviso; e
chi n'è avvisato, o con intrepidezza l'incontri, o con avvedimento la
sfugga." Bentivoglio, Guerra di Fiandra, p. 118.

[855] "Nullum prodire è Regis ore verbum seu privatè seu publicè, quin
ad ejus aures in Belgium fideliter afferatur." Strada, De Bello Belgico,
tom. I. p. 281.

[856] An abstract of the letter is given by Gachard, Correspondance de
Philippe II. tom. I. p. 485.

[857] "Sa Ma^té et ceulx du Conseil seront bien aise que sur le prétext
de la religion ils pourront parvenir à leur pretendu, de mestre le pais,
nous aultres, et nous enfans en la plus misérable servitude qu'on
n'auroit jamais veu, et come on ast tousjours craint cela plus que chose
que soit." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 324.

[858] Egmont's deposition at his trial confirms the account given in the
text--that propositions for resistance, though made at the meeting, were
rejected. Hoorne in his "Justification," refers the failure to Egmont.
Neither one nor the other throws light on the course of discussion.
Bentivoglio, in his account of the interview, shows no such reserve; and
he gives two long and elaborate speeches from Orange and Egmont, in as
good set phrase as if they had been expressly reported by the parties
themselves for publication. The Italian historian affects a degree of
familiarity with the proceedings of this secret conclave by no means
calculated to secure our confidence. Guerra di Fiandra, pp. 123-128.

[859] "Siesse qu'elle jure que s'et la plus grande vilagnerie du
monde..... et que s'et ung vray pasquil fameulx et qui doit ettre forgé
pardechà, et beaucoup de chozes semblables." Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 400.

[860] "En fin s'et une femme nourie en Rome, il n'y at que ajouter foy."
Ibid., p. 401.

Yet Egmont, on his trial, affirmed that he regarded the letter as
spurious! (Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 327.) One who
finds it impossible that the prince of Orange could lend himself to such
a piece of duplicity, may perhaps be staggered when he calls to mind his
curious correspondence with the elector and with King Philip in relation
to Anne of Saxony, before his marriage with that princess. Yet Margaret,
as Egmont hints, was of the Italian school; and Strada, her historian,
dismisses the question with a doubt,--"in medio ego quidem relinquo." A
doubt from Strada is a decision against Margaret.

[861] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom I. p. 474.

[862] Ibid., p. 491.

[863] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 282.

[864] Ibid., ubi supra.

[865] Hopper, Recueil et Mémorial, p. 109.

[866] Ibid., p. 113.

[867] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. p. 391.

[868] "Prætereà consistoria, id est senatus ac cœtus, multis in urbibus,
sicuti jam Antverpiæ cæperant, instituerunt: creatis Magistratibus,
Senatoribusque, quorum consiliis (sed anteà cum Antverpianâ curiâ, quam
esse principem voluere, communicatis) universa hæreticorum Resput.
temperaretur." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I p. 283.

[869] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. II. pp. 455, 456.

[870] Ibid., p. 496.

[871] I quote almost the words of William in his famous Apology, which
suggests the same explanation of his conduct that I have given in the
text.--"Car puis que dès le berceau j'y avois esté nourry, Monsieur mon
Pere y avoit vescu, y estoit mort, ayant chassé de ses Seigneuries les
abus de l'Eglise, qui est-ce qui trouvera estrange si cette doctrine
estoit tellement engravée en mon cœur, et y avoit jetté telles racines,
qu'en son temps elle est venuë à apporter ses fruits." Dumont, Corps
Diplomatique, tom. V. part i. p. 392.

[872] "Il y a plus de trois mois, qu'elle se lève avant le jour, et que
le plus souvent elle tient conseil le matin et le soir; et tout le
reste, de la journée et de la nuit, elle le consacre à donner des
audiences, à lire les lettres et les avis qui arrivent de toutes parts,
et à déterminer les résponses à y faire." Correspondance de Philippe
II., tom. I. p. 496.

Sleep seems to have been as superfluous to Margaret as to a hero of
romance.

[873] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. pp. 289, 290.

[874] "J'aimerais mieux que my langue fût attachée au palais, et devenir
muet, comme un poisson, que d'ouvrir la bouche pour persuader au peuple
chose tant cruelle et déraisonnable." Chronique contemporaine, cited by
Gachard. Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 561, note.

[875] "Suadere itaque illis, ut à publicis certè negotiis abstineant, ac
res quique suas in posterum curent: néve Regem brevi affecturum ingenitæ
benignitatis oblivisci cogant. Se quidem omni ope curaturam, ne, quam
ipsi ruinam comminentur, per hæc vulgi turbamenta Belgium patiatur."
Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 295.

[876] "Nec ullis conditionibus flecti te patere ad clementiam; sed
homines scelestos, atque indeprecabile supplicium commeritos, ferro et
igni quamprimùm dele." Ibid., p. 300.

[877] "Periere in eâ pugnâ quæ prima cum rebellibus commissa est in
Belgio, Gheusiorum mille ac quingenti: capti circiter trecenti,
jugulatique pænè omnes Beavorii jussu, quod erupturi Antverpienses,
opemque reliquiis victæ factionis allaturi crederentur." Ibid., p. 301.

[878] For the account of the troubles in Antwerp, see Correspondance de
Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 226 et seq.--Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Naussau, tom. III. p. 59.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. pp
300-303.--Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p.
247.--Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 526, 527.--Vander
Haer, De Initiis Tumultuum, pp. 314-317.--Renom de Francia, Alborotos de
Flandes, MS.

[879] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 310.

[880] Strada gives an extract from the letter: "Deinde si deditio non
sequeretur, invaderent quidem urbem, quodque militum est, agerent; à
cædibus tamen non puerorum modò, senúmque ac mulierum abstinerent; sed
civium nullus, nisi dum inter propugnandum se hostem gereret,
enecaretur." Ibid., p. 311.

[881] "Quasi verò, inquit, vestra conditio eadem hodie sit, ac
nudiustertius. Serò sapitis Valencenates: ego certè conditionibus non
transigo cadente cum hoste." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 314.

[882] "Feruntque ter millies explosas murales machinas, mœnium quàm
hominum majori strage." Ibid., ubi supra.

[883] So states Margaret's historian, who would not be likely to
exaggerate the number of those who suffered. The loyal president of
Mechlin dismisses the matter more summarily, without specifying any
number of victims. "El señor de Noilcarmes se aseguró de muchos
prisioneros principales Borgeses y de otros que avian sido los autores
de la rebelion, á los quales se hizo luego en diligencia su pleyto."
(Renom de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, MS.) Brandt, the historian of
the Reformation, (vol. I. p. 251,) tells us that two hundred _were said_
to have perished by the hands of the hangman at Valenciennes, on account
of the religious troubles, in the course of this year.

[884] For information, more or less minute, in regard to the siege of
Valenciennes, see Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. pp. 303-315.--Vander
Haer, De Initiis Tumultuum, pp. 319-322.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas,
fol. 49.--Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II. p.
501.--Renom de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, MS.

[885] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. pp. 315-323 et seq.

[886] "Il ne comprenait pas pourquoi la gouvernante insistait, après
qu'il lui avait écrit une lettre de sa main, contenant tout ce que S. A.
pouvait désirer d'un gentilhomme d'honneur, chevalier de l'Ordre,
naturel vassal du Roi, et qui toute sa vie avait fait le devoir d'homme
de bien, comme il le faisait encore journellement." Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. I. p. 321.

[887] "Ferez cesser les calumnies que dictes se semer contre vous,
ensamble tous ces bruits que scavez courrir de vous, encoires que en mon
endroict je les tiens faulx et que à tort ils se dyent; ne pouvant
croire que en ung cœur noble et de telle extraction que vous estes,
successeur des Seigneurs," etc. Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau,
tom. III. p. 44.

[888] "Servir et m'employer envers et contre tous, et comme me sera
ordonné de sa part, sans limitation ou restrinction." Ibid., ubi supra.

[889] "Je seroys aulcunement obligé et constrainct, le cas advenant, que
on me viendroict à commander chose qui pourroit venir contre ma
conscience ou au déservice de Sa Ma^{té} et du pays." Ibid., p. 46.

[890] "Vous asseurant que, où que seray, n'espargneray jamais mon corps
ni mon bien pour le service de Sa Ma^{té} et le bien commun de ces
pays." Ibid., p. 47.

[891] Ibid., p. 42.

[892] "In ansehung das wir in dissen länden allein seindt, und in
höchsten nöten und gefehrden leibs und lebens stecken, und keinen
vertrauwen freundt umb uns haben, deme wir unser gemüthe und hertz recht
eröffnen dörffen." Ibid., p. 39.

[893] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 319.

[894] "Orasse ilium, subduceret sese, gravidamque cruore tempestatem ab
Hispaniâ impendentem Belgarum Procerum capitibus ne opperiretur." Ibid.,
p. 321.

[895] "Perdet te, inquit Orangius, hæc quam jactas dementia Regis,
Egmonti; ac videor mihi providere animo, utinam falso, te pontem
scilicet futurum, quo Hispani calcato, in Belgium transmittant." Ibid.,
ubi supra.

[896] The secretary Pratz, in a letter of the 14th of April, thus kindly
notices William's departure: "The prince has gone, taking along with him
half a dozen heretical doctors and a good number of other seditious
rogues." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 526.

[897] "Tibi vero hoc persuade amiciorem me te habere neminem cui quidvis
libere imperare potes. Amor enim tui eas egit radices in animo meo ut
minui nullo temporis aut locorum intervallo possit." Archives de la
Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. III. p. 70.

It is not easy to understand why William should have resorted to Latin
in his correspondence with Egmont.

[898] "Ayant tousjours porté en vostre endroit l'affection que je
pourrois faire pour ung mien fils, ou parent bien proche. Et vous vous
povez de ce confier, toutes les fois que les occasions se présenteront,
que feray le mesme." Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. II.
p. 371.

[899] William's only daughter was maid of honor to the regent, who made
no objection to her accompanying her father, saying that, on the young
lady's return she would find no diminution of the love that had been
always shown to her. Ibid., ubi supra.

[900] According to Strada, some thought that William knew well what he
was about when he left his son behind him at Louvain; and that he would
have had no objection that the boy should be removed to
Madrid,--considering that, if things went badly with himself, it would
be well for the heir of the house to have a hold on the monarch's favor.
This is rather a cool way of proceeding for a parent, it must be
admitted. Yet it is not very dissimilar from that pursued by William's
own father, who, a stanch Lutheran himself, allowed his son to form part
of the imperial household, and to be there nurtured in the Roman
Catholic faith. See Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 373.

[901] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. III. p. 100.

[902] "Pour ne le jecter d'advantaige en désespoir et perdition, aussy
en contemplation de ses parens et alliez, je n'ai peu excuser luy dire
qu'il seroit doncques aînsy qu'il avoit faict, et qu'il revinst au
conseil." Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 238.

[903] William was generous enough to commend Hoorne for this step,
expressing the hope that it might induce such a spirit of harmony in the
royal council as would promote the interests of both king and country.
See the letter, written in Latin, dated from Breda, April 14, in
Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau tom. III. p. 71.

[904] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 322.

[905] Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 235.

[906] "Egit ipsa privatim magnæ Virgini grates, quòd ejus ope tantam
urbem sine prælio ac sanguine, Religioni Regique reddidisset." Strada,
De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 328.

[907] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, tom. I. p. 254.

[908] Gachard has transferred to his notes the whole of this sanguinary
document. See Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. pp. 550, 551.

[909] "La peine et le mécontentement qu'il a éprouvés, de ce que l'on a
fait une chose si illicite, si indécente, et si contraire à la religion
chrétienne." Ibid., ubi supra.

[910] Viglius was not too enlightened to enter his protest against the
right to freedom of conscience, which, in a letter to his friend Hopper,
he says may lead every one to set up his own gods--"lares aut
lemures"--according to his fancy. Yet the president was wise enough to
see that sufficient had been done at present in breaking up the
preachings. "Time and Philip's presence must do the rest." (Epistolæ ad
Hopperum, p. 433.) "Those," he says in another letter, "who have set the
king against the edict have greatly deceived him. They are having their
ovation before they have gained the victory. They think they can dispose
of Flemish affairs as they like at Toledo, when hardly a Spaniard dares
to show his head in Brussels." Ibid., p. 428.

[911] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. III. pp.
80-93.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 329.

[912] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 332.

[913] Groen's inestimable collection contains several of Brederode's
letters, which may remind one in their tone of the dashing cavalier of
the time of Charles the First. They come from the heart, mingling the
spirit of daring enterprise with the careless gayety of the _bon
vivant_, and throw far more light than the stiff, statesmanlike
correspondence of the period on the character, not merely of the writer,
but of the disjointed times in which he lived.

[914] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p.
255.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 50.--Vander Haer, De Initiis
Tumultuum, p. 327.--Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 533.

[915] Margaret's success draws forth an animated tribute from the
president of Mechlin. "De manera que los negocios de los payses bajos
por la gracia de Dios y la prudencia de esta virtuosa Dama y Princesa
con la asistencia de los buenos consejeros y servidores del Rey en
buenos terminos y en efecto remediados, las villas reveldes y alteradas
amazadas, los gueuses reducidos ó huidos; los ministros y predicantes
echados fuera ó presos; y la autoridad de su Magestad establecida otra
vez." Renom de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, MS.

[916] This was fulfilling the prophecy of the prince of Orange, who in
his letter to Hoorne tells him, "In a short time we shall refuse neither
bridle nor saddle. For myself," he adds, "I have not the strength to
endure either." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. III. p. 72.

[917] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 333.

[918] See Meteren, (Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 49,) who must have drawn
somewhat on his fancy for these wholesale executions, which, if taken
literally, would have gone nigh to depopulate the Netherlands.

[919] "Thus the gallowses were filled with carcasses, and Germany with
exiles." Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, tom. I. p. 257.

[920] "Ex trabibus decidentium templorum, infelicia conformarent
patibula, ex quibus ipsi templorum fabri cultoresque pendêrent." Strada,
De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 333.

[921] "Le bruit de l'arrivée prochaine du duc, à la tête d'une armée,
fait fuir de toutes parts des gens, qui se retirent en France, en
Angleterre, au pays de Clèves, en Allemagne et ailleurs." Correspondance
de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 546.

[922] Ibid., ubi supra.

[923] "Par les restrictions extraordinaires que V. M. a mises à mon
autorité, elle m'a enlevé tout pouvoir et m'a privée des moyens
d'achever l'entier rétablissement des affaires de ce pays: à présent
qu'elle voit ces affaires en un bon état, elle en veut donner l'honneur
à d'autres, tandis que, moi seule, j'ai eu les fatigues et les dangers."
Ibid., p. 523.

[924] "Où l'autorité du Roi est plus assurée qu'elle ne l'était au temps
de l'Empereur." Ibid., p. 532.

[925] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, tom. I. p. 258.

[926] "Ledit évêque, dans la première audience qu'il lui a donnée, a usé
d'ailleurs de termes si étranges, qu'il l'a mis en colère, et que, s'il
eût eu moins d'amour et de respect pour S. S., cela eût pu le faire
revenir sur les résolutions qu'il a prises." Correspondance de Philippe
II., tom. I. p. 488.

The tart remonstrance of Philip had its effect. Granvelle soon after
wrote to the king, that his holiness was greatly disturbed by the manner
in which his majesty had taken his rebuke. The pope, Granvelle added,
was a person of the best intentions, but with very little knowledge of
the world, and easily kept in check by those who show their teeth to
him;--"_reprimese quando se le muestran los dientes._" Ibid., tom. II.
p. lviii.

[927] "Que lui et le temps en valaient deux autres." Vandervynckt,
Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 199.

The hesitation of the king drew on him a sharp rebuke from the audacious
Fray Lorenzo Villavicencio, who showed as little ceremony in dealing
with Philip as with his ministers. "If your majesty," he says,
"consulting only your own ease, refuses to make this visit to Flanders,
which so nearly concerns the honor of God, his blessed Mother, and all
the saints, as well as the weal of Christendom, what is it but to
declare that you are ready to accept the regal dignity which God has
given you, and yet leave to him all the care and trouble that belong to
that dignity? God would take this as ill of your majesty, as you would
take it of those of your vassals whom you had raised to offices of trust
and honor, and who took the offices, but left you to do the work for
them! To offend God is a rash act, that must destroy both soul and
body." Gachard, Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II., Rapport, p.
xlviii.

[928] "Ne extingui quidem posse sine ruinâ victoris." Strada, De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 338.

Better expressed by the old Castilian proverb, "El vencido vencido, y el
vencidor perdido."

[929] "At illos non armis sed beneficiis expugnari." Strada, De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 339.

[930] Ibid., p. 340.

[931] "Ouy, et que plus est, oserions presques asseurer Vostre Majesté
plusieurs des mauvais et des principaulx, voiant ledit prince de Heboli,
se viendront réconcilier à luy, et le supplier avoir, par son moien,
faveur vers Vostre Majesté." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p.
519.

[932] The debate is reported with sufficient minuteness both by Cabrera
(Filipe Segundo, lib. VII. cap. 7,) and Strada (De Bello Belgico, tom.
I. p. 338). They agree, however, neither in the names of the parties
present, nor in the speeches they made. Yet their disagreement in these
particulars is by no means so surprising as their agreement in the most
improbable part of their account,--Philip's presence at the debate.

[933] "Comme si c'eust esté une saincte guerre." Meteren, Hist. des
Pays-Bas, fol. 52.

[934] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 350.

[935] "Il répète," says Gachard, "dans une dépêche du 1er septembre,
qu'au milieu des bruits contradictoires qui circulent à la cour, il est
impossible de démêler la vérité." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom.
I., Rapport, p. clvi.

[936] "Ceterùm, ut jam jamque iturus, legit comites, conquisivit
impedimenta, adornavit naves: mox hiemem, aut negotia variè causatus,
primó prudentes, dein vulgum, diutissimè provincias fefellit." Taciti
Annales, I. xlvii.

[937] "Es la primera que se me da en mi vida de cosas desta cualidad en
cuantas veces he servido, ni de su Magestad Cesárea que Dios tenga, ni
de V. M." Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 354.

[938] A magnanimous Castilian historian pronounces a swelling panegyric
on this little army in a couple of lines: "Los Soldados podian ser
Capitanes, los Capitanes Maestros de Campo, y los Maestros de Campo
Generales." Hechos de Sancho Davila, (Valladolid, 1713,) p. 26.

The chivalrous Brantôme dwells with delight on the gallant bearing and
brilliant appointments of these troops, whom he saw in their passage
through Lorraine. "Tous vieux et aguerrys soldatz, tant bien en poinct
d'habillement et d'armes, la pluspart dorées, et l'autre gravees, qu'on
les prenoit plustost pour capitanes que soldats." Œuvres, tom. I. p. 60.

[939]

"Corpus in Italia est, tenet intestina Brabantus; Ast animam nemo. Cur?
quia non habuit."

Borgnet, Philippe II. et la Belgique, p. 60.

[940] No two writers, of course, agree in the account of Alva's forces.
The exact returns of the amount of the whole army, as well as of each
company, and the name of the officer who commanded it, are to be found
in the Documentos Inéditos (tom. IV. p. 382). From this it appears that
the precise number of horse was 1,250, and that of the foot 8,800,
making a total of 10,050.

[941] A poem in _ottava rima_, commemorating Alva's expedition, appeared
at Antwerp the year following, from the pen of one Balthazar de Vargas.
It has more value in a historical point of view than in a poetical one.
A single stanza, which the bard devotes to the victualling of the army,
will probably satisfy the appetite of the reader:--

"Y por que la Savoya es montañosa, Y an de passar por ella las legiones,
Seria la passada trabajosa Si a la gente faltassen provisiones, El real
comissario no reposa. Haze llevar de Italia municiones Tantas que
proveyo todo el camino Que jamas falto el pan, y carno, y vino."


[942] Ossorio, Albæ Vita, tom. II. p. 237.--Trillo, Rebelion y Guerras
de Flandes, (Madrid, 1592,) fol. 17.--Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I.
p. 490.

[943] So say Schiller, (Abfall der Niederlande, s. 363,). Cabrera,
(Filipe Segundo, lib. VII. cap. 15,) _et auct. al._ But every schoolboy
knows that nothing is more unsettled than the route taken by Hannibal
across the Alps. The two oldest authorities, Livy and Polybius, differ
on the point, and it has remained a vexed question ever since,--the
criticism of later years, indeed, leaning to still another route, that
across the Little St. Bernard. The passage of Hannibal forms the subject
of a curious discussion introduced into Gibbon's journal, when the young
historian was in training for the mighty task of riper years. His
reluctance, even at the close of his argument, to strike the balance, is
singularly characteristic of his sceptical mind.

[944] "A suidar da quel nido di Demoni, le sceleraggini di tanti
Appostati." Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p. 487.

[945] The Huguenots even went so far as to attempt to engage the
reformed in the Low Countries to join them in assaulting the duke in his
march through Savoy. Their views were expressed in a work which
circulated widely in the provinces, though it failed to rouse the people
to throw off the Spanish yoke. Sec Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas,
tom. II. p. 194.

[946] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. pp. 350-354.--Ossorio, Albæ
Vita, tom. II. p. 232 et seq.--Hechos de Sancho Davila, p. 26.--Trillo,
Rebelion y Guerras de Flandes, fol. 16, 17.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo,
lib. VII. cap. 15.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 52.--Lanario,
Guerras de Flandes, fol. 15.--Renom de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes,
MS.

Chronological accuracy was a thing altogether beneath the attention of a
chronicler of the sixteenth century. In the confusion of dates in regard
to Alva's movements, I have been guided as far as possible by his own
despatches. See Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 349 et seq.

[947] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 354.--Ossorio, Albæ Vita,
tom. I. p. 241.

[948] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 52.--Old Brantôme warms as he
contemplates these Amazons, as beautiful and making as brave a show as
princesses! "Plus il y avoit quatre cents courtisanes à cheval, belles
et braves comme princesses, et huict cents à pied, bien en point aussi."
Œuvres, tom. I. p. 62.

[949] "Ninguna Historia nos enseña haya passado un Exercito por Pais tan
dilatado y marchas tan continuas, sin cometer excesso: La del Duque es
la unica que nos la hace ver. Encantò à todo el mundo." Rustant,
Historia del Duque de Alva, tom. II. p. 124.--So also Herrera, Historia
General, tom. I. p. 650.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VII. cap.
15.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 354.

[950] "Comme le Duc le vid de long, il dit tout haut; Voicy le grand
hereticque, dequoq le Comte s'espouvanta: neantmoins, pource qu'on le
pouvoit entendre en deux façons, il l'interpreta de bonne part."
Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 53.

[951] "Vimos los que allí estábamos que el Duque de Alba usó de
grandísimos respetos y buenas crianzas, y que Madama estuvo muy severa y
mas que cuando suelen negociar con ella Egmont y estos otros Señores de
acá, cosa que fué muy notada de los que lo miraban."

A minute account of this interview, as given in the text, was sent to
Philip by Mendivil, an officer of the artillery, and is inserted in the
Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 397 et seq.

[952] This document, dated December 1, 1566, is not to be found in the
Archives of Simancas, as we may infer from its having no place in the
Documentos Inéditos, which contains the succeeding commission. A copy of
it is in the Belgian Archives, and has been incorporated in Gachard's
Correspondance de Philippe II. (tom. II., Appendix, No. 88.) It is
possible that a copy of this commission was sent to Margaret, as it
agrees so well with what the king had written to her on the subject.

[953] To this second commission, dated January 31, 1567, was appended a
document, signed also by Philip, the purport of which seems to have been
to explain more precisely the nature of the powers intrusted to the
duke,--which it does in so liberal a fashion, that it may be said to
double those powers. Both papers, the originals of which are preserved
in Simancas, have been inserted in the Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. pp.
388-396.

[954] "Par quoy requerrons à ladicte dame duchesse, nostre seur, et
commandons à tous nos vassaulx et subjectz, de obéyr audict duc d'Alve
en ce qu'il leur commandera, et de par nous, come aïant telle charge, et
comme à nostre propre personne."--This instrument, taken from the
Belgian archives, is given entire by Gachard, Correspondance de Philippe
II., tom. II., Appendix, No. 102.

[955] "Despues que los han visto han quedado todos muy lastimados, y á
todos cuantos Madama habla les dice que se quierre ir á su casa por los
agravios que V. M. le ha hecho." Carta de Mendivil, ap. Documentos
Inéditos, tom. IV p. 399.

[956] Ibid., p. 403.

[957] Ibid., p. 400.

[958] "En todo el sermon no trató cuasi de otra cosa sino de que los
españoles eran traidores y ladrones, y forzadores de mugeres, y que
totalmente el pais que los sufria era destruido, con tanto escándolo y
maldad que merescia ser quemado." Ibid., p. 401.

[959] Yet there was danger in it, if, as Armenteros warned the duke, to
leave his house would be at the risk of his life. "Tambien me ha dicho
Tomás de Armenteros que diga al Duque de Alba que en ninguna manera como
fuera de su casa porque si lo hace será con notable peligro de la vida."
Ibid., ubi supra.

[960] "Despues de haberse sentado le dijo el contentamiento que tenia de
su venida y que ningún otro pudiera venir con quien ella mas se
holgara." Ibid., p. 404.

[961] "Que lo que principalmente traia era estar aquí con esta gente
para que la justicia fuese obedecida y respetada, y los mandamientos de
S. E. ejecutadas, y que S. M. á su venida hallase esto en la paz,
tranquilidad y sosiego que era razon." Ibid., p. 406.

[962] "Podráse escusar con estos diciéndoles que yo soy cabezudo y que
he estado muy opinatre en sacar de aquí esta gente, que yo huelgo de que
á mí se me eche la culpa y de llevar el odio sobre mí á trueque de que
V. E. quede descargada." Ibid., p. 408.

[963] Supplément à Strada, tom. II. p. 524.

[964] "Tenendo per certo che V. M. non vorrà desautorizarmi, per
autorizare altri, poi che questo non e giusto, ne manco saria servitio
suo, se non gran danno et inconveniente per tutti li negotii."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 505.

[965] "Il y est si odieux qu'il suffirait à y faire haïr toute la nation
espagnole." Ibid., p. 556.

[966] Ibid., ubi supra.

[967] "Elle est affectée, jusqu'au fond de l'âme, de la conduite du Roi
à son égard." Ibid., p. 567.

[968] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pay-Bas, tom. II. p. 207.

[969] "Seu vera seu ficta, facilè Gandavensibus credita, ab iisque in
reliquum Belgium cum Albani odio propagata." Strada, De Bello Belgico,
tom. I. p. 368.

[970] See his remarkable letter to the king, of October 21, 1563: "A los
que destos merecen, quítenles las caveças, hasta poderlo hacer
dissimular con ellos." Papiers d'Etat de Granvelle, tom. VII. p. 233.

[971] "Les Espaignols font les plus grandes foulles qu'on ne sçauroit
escryre; ils confisquent tout, à tort, à droit, disant que touts sont
hérétiques, qui ont du bien, et ont à perdre."

The indignant writer does not omit to mention the "two thousand"
strumpets who came in the duke's train; "so," he adds, "with what we
have already, there will be no lack of this sort of wares in the
country." Lettre de Jean de Hornes, Aug. 25, 1567, Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. I. p. 565.

[972] Clough, Sir Thomas Gresham's agent, who was in the Low Countries
at this time, mentions the licence of the Spaniards. It is but just to
add, that he says the government took prompt measures to repress it, by
ordering some of the principal offenders to the gibbet. Burgon, Life of
Gresham, vol. II. pp. 229, 230.

[973] The duchess, in a letter to Philip, September 8, 1567, says that a
hundred thousand people fled the country on the coming of Alva! (Strada,
De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 357.) If this be thought a round
exaggeration, dictated by policy or by fear, still there are positive
proofs that the emigration at this period was excessive. Thus, by a
return made of the population of London and its suburbs, this very year
of 1567, it appears that the number of Flemings was as large as that of
all other foreigners put together. See Bulletins de l'Académie Royale de
Bruxelles, tom. XIV. p. 127.

[974] Thus Jean de Hornes, Baron de Boxtel, writes to the prince of
Orange: "J'ay prins une résolution pour mon faict et est que je fay tout
effort de scavoir si l'on poulrast estre seurement en sa maison: si
ainsy est, me retireray en une des miennes le plus abstractement que
possible sera; sinon, regarderay de chercher quelque résidence en
desoubs ung aultre Prince." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom.
III. p. 125.

[975] Göthe, in his noble tragedy of "Egmont," seems to have borrowed a
hint from Shakespeare's "blanket of the dark," to depict the gloom of
Brussels,--where he speaks of the heavens as wrapt in a dark pall from
the fatal hour when the duke entered the city. Act IV. Scene I.

[976] Vera y Figueroa, Vida de Alva, p. 89.

[977] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 578.

[978] Ibid., p. 563.

[979] "Qu'il lui avait peiné infiniment que le Roi n'eût tenu compte de
monseigneur et de ses services, comme il le méritait." Ibid., ubi supra.

[980] "Que s'il voyait M. de Hornes, il lui dirait des choses qui le
satisferaient, et par lesquelles celui-ci connaîtrait qu'il n'avait pas
été oublié de ses amis." Ibid., p. 564.

[981] According to Strada, Hoogstraten actually set out to return to
Brussels, but, detained by illness or some other cause on the road, he
fortunately received tidings of the fate of his friends in season to
profit by it and make his escape. De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 358.

[982] Ibid., p. 359.--Ossorio, Albæ Vita, tom. II. p. 248. Also the
memoirs of that "Thunderbolt of War," as his biographer styles him,
Sancho Davila himself. Hechos de Sancho Davila, p. 29.

A report, sufficiently meagre, of the affair, was sent by Alva to the
king. In this no mention is made of his having accompanied Egmont when
he left the room where they had been conferring together. See Documentos
Inéditos, tom. II. p. 418.

[983] "Et tamen hoc ferro sæpè ego Regis causam non infeliciter
defendí." Strada, de Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 359.

[984] Clough, Sir Thomas Gresham's correspondent, in a letter from
Brussels, of the same date as the arrest of Egmont, gives an account of
his bearing on the occasion, which differs somewhat from that in the
text; not more, however, than the popular rumors of any strange event of
recent occurrence are apt to differ. "And as touching the county of
Egmond, he was (as the saying ys) apprehendyd by the Duke, and comyttyd
to the offysers: whereuppon, when the capytane that had charge [of him]
demandyd hys weapon, he was in a grett rage; and tooke hys sword from
hys syde, and cast it to the grounde." Burgon, Life of Gresham, vol. II.
p. 234.

[985] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 574.

[986] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 359.--Meteren, Hist. des
Pays-Bas, fol. 54.--Hechos de Sancho Davila, p. 29.--Ossorio, Albæ Vita,
tom. II. p. 248.--Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p.
223.--Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 418.

[987] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 226.

[988] "Toutes ces mesures étaient nécessaires, vu la grande autorité du
comte d'Egmont en ces pays, qui ne connaissaient d'autre roi que lui."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 582.

[989] Ibid., ubi supra.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 54.

[990] "L'emprisonnement des deux comtes ne donne lieu à aucune rumeur;
au contraire, la tranquillité est si grande, que le Roi ne le pourrait
croire." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 575.

[991] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 359.

[992] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p. 260.

[993] "Que, s'il apprenait que quelques-uns en fissent, encore même que
ce fût pour dire le _credo_, il les châtierait; que, quant aux
priviléges de l'Ordre, le Roi, après un mûr examen de ceux-ci, avait
prononcé, et qu'on devait se soumettre." Correspondance de Philippe II.,
tom. I. p. 578.

[994] "Adeò contracto ac penè nullo cum imperio moderari, an utile Regi,
an decorum ei quam Rex sororem appellare non indignatur, iliius
meditationi relinquere." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 360.

[995] "Il vaut mieux que le Roi attende, pour venir, que tous les actes
de rigueur aient été faits; il entrera alors dans le pays comme prince
benin et clément, pardonnant, et accordant des faveurs à ceux qui
l'auront mérité." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 577.

[996] "An captus quoque fuisset Taciturnus, (sic Orangium nominabat,)
atque eo negante dixisse fertur, Uno illo retibus non incluso, nihil ab
Duce Albano captum." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 360.

[997] "Grace à Dieu, tout est parfaitement tranquille aux Pays-Bas."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 589.

[998] "Le repos aux Pays-Bas ne consiste pas à faire couper la tête à
des hommes qui se sont laissé persuader par d'autres." Ibid., p. 576.

[999] "Os habemos hecho entender que nuestra intencion era de no usar de
rigor contra nuestros subegetos que durante las revueltas pasadas
pudiesen haber ofendido contra Nos, _sino de toda dulzura y clemencia
segun nuestra inclinacion natural_." Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p.
440.

[1000] The ordinance, dated September 18, 1567, copied from the Archives
of Simancas, is to be found in the Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 489
et seq.

[1001] "Statimque mercatores decem primarios Tornacenses è portu
Flissingano fugam in Britanniam adornantes capi, ac bonis exutos
custodiri jubet." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 361.

[1002] "Mais l'intention de S. M. n'est pas de verser le sang de ses
sujets, et moi, de mon naturel, je ne l'aime pas davantage."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 576.

[1003] "Novum igitur consessum judicum instituit, exteris in eum
plerisque adscitis; quem Turbarum ille; plebes, Sanguinis appellabat
Senatum." Reidani Annales, (Lugdunum Batavorum, 1633,) p. 5.

[1004] "Les plus savants et les plus intègres du pays, et de la
meilleure vie." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 576.

[1005] Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 300.

[1006] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 54.

[1007] Viglius, who had not yet seen the man, thus mentions him in a
letter to his friend Hopper: "Imperium ac rigorem metuunt cujusdam
Vergasi, qui apud eum multum posse, et nescio quid aliud, dicitur."
Epist. ad Hopperum, p. 451.

[1008] "Une activité toute juvénile." Correspondance de Philippe II.,
tom. I. p. 583.

[1009] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1010] Bulletins de l'Académie Royale de Belgique, tom. XVI. par. ii. p.
58.

[1011] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 242. Hessels was
married to a niece of Viglius. According to the old councillor, she was
on bad terms with her husband, because he had not kept his promise of
resigning the office of attorney-general, in which he made himself so
unpopular in Flanders. (Epist. ad Hopperum, p. 495.) In the last chapter
of this Book the reader will find some mention of the tragic fate of
Hessels.

[1012] "Letrados no sentencian sino en casos probados; y como V. M.
sabe, los negocios de Estado son muy diferentes de las leyes que ellos
tienen." Bulletins de l'Académie Royale de Belgique, tom. XVI. par. ii.
p. 52, note.

[1013] "En siendo el aviso de condemnar á muerte, se decia que estaba
muy bien y no habia mas que ver; empero, si el aviso era de menor pena,
no se estaba á lo que ellos decian, sino tornabase á ver el proceso, y
decianles sobre ello malas palabras, y hacianles ruin tratamiento."
Gachard cites the words of the official document. Bulletins de
l'Académie Royale de Belgique, tom. XVI. par. ii. p. 67.

[1014] Ibid., p. 68 et seq.

[1015] "Qu'ils seraient et demeureraient à jamais bons catholiques,
selon que commandait l'Eglise catholique romaine; que, par haine, amour,
pitié ou crainte de personne, ils ne laisseraient de dire franchement et
sincèrement leur avis, selon qu'en bonne justice ils trouvaient convenir
et appartenir; qu'ils tiendraient secret tout ce qui se traiterait au
conseil, et qu'ils accuseraient ceux qui feraient le contraire."
Bulletins de l'Académie Royale de Belgique, tom. XVI. par. ii. p. 56.

[1016] Ibid., p. 57.

[1017] Belin, in a letter to his patron, Cardinal Granvelle, gives full
vent to his discontent with "three or four Spaniards in the duke's
train, who would govern all in his name. They make but one head under
the same hat." He mentions Vargas and Del Rio in particular. Granvelle's
reply is very characteristic. Far from sympathizing with his querulous
follower, he predicts the ruin of his fortunes by this mode of
proceeding. "A man who would rise in courts must do as he is bidden,
without question. Far from taking umbrage, he must bear in mind that
injuries, like pills, should he swallowed without chewing, that one may
not taste the bitterness of them;"--a noble maxim, if the motive had
been noble. See Levesque, Mémoires de Granvelle, tom. II. pp. 91-94.

[1018] The historians of the time are all more or less diffuse on the
doings of the Council of Troubles, written as they are in characters of
blood. But we look in vain for any account of the interior organization
of that tribunal, or of its mode of judicial procedure. This may be
owing to the natural reluctance which the actors themselves felt, in
later times, to being mixed up with the proceedings of a court so
universally detested. For the same reason, as Gachard intimates, they
may not improbably have even destroyed some of the records of its
proceedings. Fortunately that zealous and patriotic scholar has
discovered in the Archives of Simancas sundry letters of Alva and his
successor, as well as some of the official records of the tribunal,
which in a great degree supply the defect. The result he has embodied in
a luminous paper prepared for the Royal Academy of Belgium, which has
supplied me with the materials for the preceding pages. See Bulletins de
l'Académie Royale des Sciences, des Lettres et des Beaux Arts de
Belgique, tom. XVI. par. ii. pp. 50-78.

[1019] "Hasta que vean en que para este juego que se comiença."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 598.

[1020] "Car l'incertitude où celles-ci se trouvent du sort qu'on leur
réserve, les fera plus aisément à consentir aux moyens de finances
justes et honnêtes qui seront établis par le Roi." Ibid., p. 590.

[1021] "Porqué creo yo que, con la voluntad de los Estados, no se
hallarán estas, que es menester ponerlos de manera que no sea menester
su voluntad y consentimiento para ello.... Esto irá en cifra, y aun creo
que seria bien que fuese en una cartilla á parte que descifrase el mas
confidente." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 590.

[1022] Ibid., p. 610.

[1023] "Para que cada uno piense que á la noche, ó á la mañana, se le
puede caer la casa encima." Ibid., tom. II. p. 4.

[1024] "Esto se ha de proponer en la forma que yo propuse á los de
Anvers los cuatrocientos mill florines para la ciudadela, y que ellos
entiendan que aunque se les propone y se les pide, es en tal manera que
lo que se propusiere no se ha de dejar de hacer." Documentos Inéditos,
tom. IV. p. 492.

[1025] Thus, for example, when Alva states that the council had declared
all those who signed the Compromise guilty of treason, Philip notes, in
his own handwriting, on the margin of the letter, "The same should he
done with all who aided and abetted them, as in fact the more guilty
party." (Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 590.) These private
memoranda of Philip are of real value to the historian, letting him
behind the curtain, where the king's own ministers could not always
penetrate.

[1026] Cornejo, Disension de Flandes, fol. 63 et seq.--Hist. des
Troubles et Guerres Civiles des Pays-Bas, pp. 133-136.--Documentos
Inéditos, tom. IV. pp. 428-439.--Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau,
tom. III. p. 119.

[1027] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 13.

[1028] "Non-seulement afin qu'il servît d'ôtage pour ce que son père
pourrait fairs en Allemagne, mais pour qu'il fût élevé catholiquement."
Ibid., tom. I. p. 596.

[1029] Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 372.--Vandervynckt, Troubles
de Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 261.

[1030] Strada, ubi supra.--Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II.
p. 243.--Aubéri, Histoire de Hollande, p. 25.

[1031] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. III. p. 159.

[1032] "Or, il vaut beaucoup mieux avoir un royaume ruiné, en le
conservant pour Dieu et le roi, au moyen de la guerre, que de l'avoir
tout entier sans celle-ci, au profit du démon et des hérétiques, ses
sectateurs." Correspondance de Philippe II. tom. I. p. 609.

[1033] This appears not merely from the king's letters to the duke, but
from a still more unequivocal testimony, the minutes in his own
handwriting on the duke's letters to him. See, in particular, his
summary approval of the reply which Alva tells him he has made to
Catherine de Medicis. "Yo lo mismo, todo lo demas que dice en este
capitulo, que todo ha sido muy á proposito." Ibid., p. 591.

[1034] Ranke, Civil Wars and Monarchy in France in the Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries, (Eng. trans.,) vol. I. p. 349.

[1035] The cardinal of Lorraine went so far as to offer, in a certain
contingency, to put several strong frontier places into Alva's hands. In
case the French king and his brothers should die without heirs the king
of Spain might urge his own claim through his wife, as nearest of blood,
to the crown of France. "The Salic law," adds the duke, "is but a jest.
All difficulties will be easily smoothed away with the help of an army."
Philip, in a marginal note to this letter, intimates his relish for the
proposal. See Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 593.

[1036] The municipality of Brussels, alarmed at the interpretation which
the duke, after Margaret's departure, might put on certain equivocal
passages in their recent history, obtained a letter from the regent, in
which she warmly commends the good people of the capital as zealous
Catholics, loyal to their king, and, on all occasions, prompt to show
themselves the friends of public order. See the correspondence, ap.
Gachard, Analectes Belgiques, p. 343 et seq.

[1037] Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 481 et seq.

[1038] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 583.

[1039] The king's acknowledgments to his sister are condensed into the
sentence with which he concludes his letter, or, more properly, his
billet. This is dated October 13, 1568, and is published by Gachard, in
the Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II., Appendix No. 119.

[1040] "Elle reçut," says De Thou with some humor, "enfin d'Espagne une
lettre pleine d'amitié et de tendresse, telle qu'on a coûtume d'écrire à
une personne qu'on remercie après l'avoir dépouillée de sa dignité."
Hist. Universelle, tom. V. p. 439.

[1041] A copy of the original is to be found in the Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. II., Appendix No. 118.

[1042] The letter has been inserted by Gachard in the Analectes
Belgiques, pp. 295-300.

[1043] "Suplicar muy humilmente, y con toda afeccion, que V. M. use de
clemencia y misericordia con ellos, conforme á la esperanza que tantas
vezes les ha dado, y que tenga en memoria que cuanto mas grandes son los
reyes, y se acercan mas á Dios, tanto mas deben ser imitadores de esta
grande divina bondad, poder, y clemencia." Correspondance de Philippe
II., tom. I. p. 603.

[1044] Ibid., loc. cit.

[1045] Ibid., tom. II. p. 6.

[1046] "Superavitque omnes Elizabetha Angliæ Regina, tam bonæ caræque
sororis, uci scribebat, vicinitate in posterum caritura;" "sive," adds
the historian, with candid scepticism, "is amor fuit in Margaritam, sive
sollicitudo ex Albano successore." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p.
365.

[1047] Historians vary considerably as to the date of Margaret's
departure. She crossed the frontier of the Netherlands probably by the
middle of January, 1568. At least, we find a letter from her to Philip
when she had nearly reached the borders, dated at Luxembourg, on the
twelfth of that month.

[1048] See, among others, Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 128;
Guerres Civiles du Pays-Bas, p. 128; De Thou, Hist. Gen., tom. V. p.
439; and Renom de Francia, Alborotos de Flandes, MS., who, in these
words, concludes his notice of Margaret's departure: "Dejando gran
reputacion de su virtud y un sentimiento de su partida en los corazones
de los vasallos de por acá el qual crecio mucho despues ansi continuo
quando se describio el gusto de los humores y andamientos de su
succesor."

[1049] De Thou, Hist. Gen., tom. V. p. 437.--Meteren, Hist. des
Pays-Bas, fol. 54.--The latter historian cites the words of the original
instrument.

[1050] "Voulans et ordonnans qu'ainsi en soit faict, afin que ceste
serieuse sentence serve d'exemple, et donne crainte pour l'advenir, sans
aucune esperance de grace." Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 54.

[1051] Among contemporary writers whom I have consulted, I find no
authorities for this remarkable statement except Meteren and De Thou.
This might seem strange to one who credited the story, but not so
strange as that a proceeding so extraordinary should have escaped the
vigilance of Llorente, the secretary of the Holy Office, who had all its
papers at his command. I have met with no allusion whatever to it in his
pages.

[1052] "Au moyen de la patente de gouverneur général que le duc aura
reçue, il pourra faire cesser les entraves que mettait le conseil des
finances à ce qu'il disposât des deniers des confiscations."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 609.

[1053] Bulletins de l'Académie Royale de Belgique, tom. XVI. par. ii. p.
62.

[1054] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1055] Ibid., p. 63.

[1056] "Le magistrat s'est plaint de l'infraction de ses privilèges, à
cause de l'envoi dudit prévôt; mais il faudra bien qu'il prenne
patience." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 13.

[1057] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. pp. 243-247.

The author tells us he collected these particulars from the memoirs and
diaries of eye-witnesses,--confirmed, moreover, by the acts and public
registers of the time. The authenticity of the statement, he adds, is
incontestable.

[1058] See the circular of Alva to the officers charged with these
arrests, in the Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II., Appendix, p.
660.

[1059] "Et, affin que ledict duc d'Alve face apparoir de plus son
affection sanguinaire et tyrannicque, il a, passé peu de temps, faict
appréhender, tout sur une nuict, [le 3 mars, 1568,] en toutes les villes
des pays d'embas, ung grand nombre de ceulx qu'il a tenu suspect en leur
foy, et les faict mectre hors leurs maisons et lictz en prison, pour en
après, à sa commodité, faire son plaisir et volunté avecque lesdicts
prisonniers." Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. III. p. 9.

The extract is from a memorial addressed by William to the emperor,
vindicating his own course, and exposing, with the indignant eloquence
of a patriot, the wrongs and calamities of his country. This document,
printed by Gachard, is a version from the German original by the hand of
a contemporary. A modern translation--so ambitious in its style that one
may distrust its fidelity--is also to be found in the Archives de la
Maison d'Orange-Nassau, Supplément, p. 91 et seq.

[1060] "Se prendieron cerca de quinientos.... He mandado justiciar
todos," says Alva to the king, in a letter written in cipher, April, 13.
1568. (Documentos inéditos, tom. IV. p. 488.) Not one escaped! It is
told with an air of _nonchalance_ truly appalling.

[1061] "Que cada dia me quiebran la cabeza con dudas de que si el que
delinquió desta manera meresce la muerte, ó si el que delinquió desta
otra meresce destierro, que no me dejan vivir, y no basta con ellos."
Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 488.

[1062] "En este castigo que agora se hace y en el que vendrá despues, de
Pascua tengo que pasará de ochocientas cabezas." Ibid., p. 489.

[1063] "Les Bourgeois qui estoyët riches de quarante, soixante, et cent
mille florins, il les faysoit attacher à la queuë d'un cheval, et ainsi
les faysoit trainer, ayant les mains liées sur les dos, jusques au lieu
où on les debvoit pendre." Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 55.

[1064] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1065] "Ille [Vargas] promiscuè laqueo, igne, homines enecare."
Reidanus, Annales, p. 6.

[1066] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p. 274.

[1067] "Hark how they sing!" exclaimed a friar in the crowd; "should
they not be made to dance too?" Brandt, Reformation in the Low
Countries, vol. I. p. 275.

[1068] It will be understood that I am speaking of the period embraced
in this portion of the history, terminating at the beginning of June,
1568, when the Council of Blood had been in active operation about four
months,--the period when the sword of legal persecution fell heaviest.
Alva, in the letter above cited to Philip, admits eight
hundred--including three hundred to be examined after Easter--as the
number of victims. (Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 489.) Viglius, in a
letter of the twenty-ninth of March, says fifteen hundred had been
already cited before the tribunal, the greater part of whom--they had
probably fled the country--were condemned for contumacy. (Epist. ad
Hopperum, p. 415.) Grotius, alluding to this period, speaks even more
vaguely of the multitude of the victims, as _innumerable_. "Stipatæ reis
custodiæ, innumeri mortales necati: ubique una species ut captæ
civitatis." (Annales, p. 29.) So also Hooft, cited by Brandt: "The
gallows, the wheels, stakes, and trees in the highways, were loaden with
carcasses or limbs of such as had been hanged, beheaded, or roasted; so
that the air, which God had made for respiration of the living, was now
become the common grave or habitation of the dead." (Reformation in the
Low Countries, vol. I. p. 261.) Language like this, however expressive,
does little for statistics.

[1069] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 4.

[1070] Sentences passed by the Council of Blood against a great number
of individuals--two thousand or more--have been collected in a little
volume, (Sententien en Indagingen van Alba,) published at Amsterdam, in
1735. The parties condemned were for the most part natives of Holland,
Zealand, and Utrecht. They would seem, with very few exceptions, to have
been absentees, and, being pronounced guilty of contumacy, were
sentenced to banishment and the confiscation of their property. The
volume furnishes a more emphatic commentary on the proceedings of Alva
than anything which could come from the pen of the historian.

[1071] "Acabando este castigo comenzaré á prender algunos particulares
de los mas culpados y mas ricos para moverlos á que vengan á
composición." Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 489.

[1072] "Destos tales se saque todo el golpe de dinero que sea possible."
Ibid., ubi supra.

[1073] Sententien van Alva, bl. 122-124.

[1074] "Combien d'Hospitaux, Vefues, et Orphelins, estoyent par ce moyen
privés de leur rentes, et moyës de vivre!" Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas,
fol. 55

[1075] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. p. 265.

[1076] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 247.

[1077] Ibid., p. 245.

[1078] "Par laquelle auparavant jamais ouye tyrannie et persécution,
ledict duc d'Albe a causé partout telle peur, que aulcuns milles
personnes, et mesmement ceulx estans principaulx papistes, se sont
retirez en dedens peu de temps hors les Pays-Bas, en considération que
ceste tyrannie s'exerce contre tous, sans aulcune distinction de la
religion." Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne, tom. III. p. 14.

[1079] "Que temo no venga á ser mayor la espesa de los ministros que el
útil que dello se sacará." Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 495.

[1080] "El tribunal todo que hice para estas cosas no solamente no me
ayuda, pero estórbame tanto que tengo mas que hacer con ellos que con
los delincuentes." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1081] Vargas passed as summary a judgment on the people of the
Netherlands as that imputed to the Inquisition, condensing it into a
memorable sentence, much admired for its Latinity. "_Hæretici fraxerunt
templa, boni nihil faxerunt contrà, ergo debent omnes patibulare._"
Reidanus, Annales, p. 5.

[1082] "Quand on l'éveilloit pour dire son avis. il disoit tout endormi,
en se frottant ces veux, _ad patibulum_, _ad patibulum_, c'est-à-dire,
au gibet, au gibet." Aubéri, Mem. pour servir à l'Hist. de Hollande, p.
22.

[1083] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 12.

[1084] Brandt, Reformation in the Low Countries, vol. I. pp. 263, 264;
et alibi.

[1085] Grotius, Annales, p. 29.--Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas,
tom. II. p. 450.

[1086] Campana, Guerra de Fiandra, fol. 38.--Ferreras, Hist. d'Espagne,
tom. IX. p. 555.

[1087] "Valde optaremus tandem aliquam funesti hujus temporis,
criminaliumque processuum finem, qui non populum tantum nostrum, sed
vicinos omnes exasperant." Viglii, Epist. ad Hopperum, p. 482.

[1088] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 15.

[1089] "Y quando por esta causa se aventurassen los Estados, y me
viniesse á caer el mundo encima." Ibid., p. 27.

Philip seems to have put himself in the attitude of the "justum et
tenacem" of Horace. His concluding hyperbole is almost a literal version
of the Roman bard:--

"Si fractus illabatur orbis, Impavidum ferient ruinæ."


[1090] Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, Supplément, p. 87.

[1091] "Il n'est pas seulement content de s'employer à la nécessité
présente par le moyen par eulx proposé touchant sa vasselle, ains de sa
propre personne, et de tout ce que reste en son pouvoir." Ibid., p. 88.

[1092] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1093] The funds were chiefly furnished, as it would seem, by Antwerp,
and the great towns of Holland, Zealand, Friesland, and Groningen, the
quarter of the country where the spirit of independence was always high.
The noble exiles with William contributed half the amount raised. This
information was given to Alva by Villers, one of the banished lords,
after he had fallen into the duke's hands in a disastrous affair, of
which some account will be given in the present chapter. Correspondance
de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 27.

[1094] "Ipse Arausionensis monilia, vasa algentea, tapetes, cætera
supellectilis divendit, digna regio palatio ornamenta, sed exigui ad
bellum momenti." Reidanus, Annales, p. 6.

[1095] The "Justification" has been very commonly attributed to the pen
of the learned Languet, who was much in William's confidence, and is
known to have been with him at this time. But William was too practised
a writer, as Groen well suggests, to make it probable that he would
trust the composition of a paper of such moment to any hand but his own.
It is very likely that he submitted his own draft to the revision of
Languet, whose political sagacity he well understood. And this is the
most that can be fairly inferred from Languet's own account of the
matter: "Fui Dillemburgi per duodecim et tredecim dies, ubi Princeps
Orangiæ mihi et aliquot aliis curavit prolixe explicari causas et initia
tumultuum in inferiore Germania et suam responsionem ad accusationes
Albani." It fared with the prince's "Justification" as it did with the
famous "Farewell Address" of Washington, so often attributed to another
pen than his, but which, however much it may have been benefited by the
counsels and corrections of others, bears on every page unequivocal
marks of its genuineness.

The "Justification" called out several answers from the opposite party.
Among them were two by Vargas and Del Rio. But in the judgment of
Viglius--whose bias certainly did not lie on William's side--these
answers were a failure. See his letter to Hopper (Epist. ad Hopperum, p.
458). The reader will find a full discussion of the matter by Groen, in
the Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. III. p. 187.

[1096] "En quoy ne gist pas seulement le bien de ce faict, mais aussi
mon honeur et réputation, pour avoir promis aus gens de guerre leur
paier le dict mois, et que j'aymerois mieulx morir que les faillir à ma
promesse." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, Supplément, p. 89.

[1097] Mendoza, Comentarios, p. 42 et seq.--Cornejo, Disension de
Flandres, p. 63.

[1098] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 56.--De Thou, Hist.
Universelle, tom. V. p. 443.

[1099] "Ains, comme gens predestinez à leur malheur et de leur general,
crierent plus que devant contre luy jusques à l'appeller traistre, et
qu'il s'entendoit avec les ennemis. Luy, qui estoit tout noble et
courageux, leur dit: 'Ouy, je vous monstreray si je le suis.'" Brantôme,
Œuvres, tom. I. p. 382.

[1100] Brantôme has given us the portrait of this Flemish nobleman, with
whom he became acquainted on his visit to Paris, when sent thither by
Alva to relieve the French monarch. The chivalrous old writer dwells on
the personal appearance of Aremberg, his noble mien and high-bred
courtesy, which made him a favorite with the dames of the royal circle.
"Un tres beau et tres agreable seigneur, surtout de fort grande et haute
taille et de tres belle apparence." (Œuvres, tom. I. p. 383.) Nor does
he omit to mention, among other accomplishments, the fluency with which
he could speak French and several other languages. Ibid., p. 384.

[1101] See a letter written, as seems probable, by a councillor of
William to the elector of Saxony, the week after the battle. Archives de
la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. III. p. 221.

[1102] It is a common report of historians, that Adolphus and Aremberg
met in single combat in the thick of the fight, and fell by each other's
hands. See Cornejo, Disension de Flandes, fol. 63; Strada, De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 282, _et al._ An incident so romantic found easy
credit in a romantic age.

[1103] The accounts of the battle of Heyligerlee, given somewhat
confusedly, may be found in Herrera, Hist. del Mundo, tom. I. p. 688 et
seq.; Campana, Guerra di Fiandra, (Vicenza, 1602,) p. 42 et seq.;
Mendoza, Comentarios, (Madrid, 1592,) p. 43 et seq.; Cornejo, Disension
de Flandes, fol. 66 et seq.; Carnero, Guerras de Flandes, (Brusselas,
1625,) p. 24 et seq.; Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 382 et seq.;
Bentivoglio, Guerra di Fiandra, p. 192 et seq.

The last writer tells us he had heard the story more than once from the
son and heir of the deceased Count Aremberg, who sorely lamented that
his gallant father should have thrown away his life for a mistaken point
of honor.

In addition to the above authorities, I regret it is not in my power to
cite a volume published by M. Gachard since the present chapter was
written. It contains the correspondence of Alva relating to the invasion
by Louis.

[1104] Viglii, Epist. ad Hopperum, p. 481.--The sentence of the prince
of Orange may be found in the Sententien van Alba, p. 70.

[1105] Ibid.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 373.--Vera y
Figueroa, Vida de Alva, p. 101.

The Hotel de Culemborg, so memorable for its connection with the early
meetings of the Gueux, had not been long in possession of Count
Culemborg, who purchased it as late as 1556. It stood on the Place du
Petit Sablon. See Reiffenberg, Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche,
p. 363.

[1106] "His tamen Albanus facilè contemptis, quippe à diuternâ rerum
experientiâ suspicax, et suopte ingenio ab aliorum consiliis, si ultrò
præsertim offerrentur aversus." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p.
386.

[1107] Ibid., ubi supra.--Guerres Civiles du Pays-Bas, p. 171.--Meteren,
Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 57.

The third volume of the Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau contains a
report of this execution from an eye-witness, a courier of Alva, who
left Brussels the day after the event, and was intercepted on his route
by the patriots. One may imagine the interest with which William and his
friends listened to the recital of the tragedy; and how deep must have
been their anxiety for the fate of their other friends,--Hoorne and
Egmont in particular,--over whom the sword of the executioner hung by a
thread. We may well credit the account of the consternation that reigned
throughout Brussels. "Il affirme que c'estoit une chose de l'autre
monde, le crys, lamentation et juste compassion qu'aviont tous ceux de
la ville du dit Bruxelles, nobles et ignobles, pour ceste barbare
tyrannie, mais que nonobstant, ce cestuy Nero d'Alve se vante en ferat
le semblable de tous ceulx quy potra avoir en mains." P. 241.

[1108] If we are to believe Bentivoglio, Backerzele was torn asunder by
horses. "Da quattro cavalli fu smembrato vivo in Brusselles il Casembrot
già segretario dell'Agamonte." (Guerra di Fiandra, p. 200.) But Alva's
character, hard and unscrupulous as he may have been in carrying out his
designs, does not warrant the imputation of an act of such wanton
cruelty as this. Happily it is not justified by historic testimony; no
notice of the fact being found in Strada, or Meteren, or the author of
the Guerres Civiles du Pays-Bas, not to add other writers of the time,
who cannot certainly be charged with undue partiality to the Spaniards.
If so atrocious a deed had been perpetrated, it would be passing strange
that it should not have found a place in the catalogue of crimes imputed
to Alva by the prince of Orange. See, in particular, his letter to
Schwendi, written in an agony of grief and indignation, soon after he
had learned the execution of his friends. Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, tom. III. p. 244.

[1109] Bor, the old Dutch historian, contemporary with these events,
says that, "if it had not been for the countess-dowager, Hoorne's
step-mother, that noble would actually have starved in prison from want
of money to procure himself food!" Arend, Algemeene Geschiedenis des
Vaderlands, D. II. St. v. bl. 37.

[1110] "Ce dernier fait chaque jour des aveux, et on peut s'attendre
qu'il dira des merveilles, lorsqu'il sera mis à la torture."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 589.

[1111] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 247.

[1112] The _Interrogatoires_, filling nearly fifty octavo pages, were
given to the public by the late Baron Reiffenberg, at the end of his
valuable compilation of the correspondence of Margaret. Both the
questions and answers, strange as it may seem, were originally drawn up
in Castilian. A French version was immediately made by the secretary
Pratz,--probably for the benefit of the Flemish councillors of the
bloody tribunal. Both the Castilian and French MSS. were preserved in
the archives of the house of Egmont until the middle of the last
century, when an unworthy heir of this ancient line suffered them to
pass into other hands. They were afterwards purchased by the crown, and
are now in a fitting place of deposit,--the Archives of the Kingdom of
Holland. The MS. printed by Reiffenberg is in French.

[1113] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 14.

[1114] Supplément à Strada, tom. I. p. 244.

[1115] Ibid., p. 219.--Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 588.

[1116] "La suppliant de prendre en cette affaire la détermination que la
raison et l'équité réclament." Ibid., p. 607.

[1117] Ibid., p. 614.

[1118] Ibid., p. 599.

[1119] "Le Comte d'Egmont," said Granvelle, in a letter so recent as
August 17, 1567, "disait au prince que leurs menées étaient découvertes;
que le Roi faisait des armements; qu'ils ne sauraient lui résister;
qu'ainsi il leur fallait dissimuler, et s'accommoder le mieux possible,
en attendant d'autres circonstances, pour réaliser leurs desseins."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 56

[1120] "Tout ce qui s'est passé doit être tiré au clair, pour qu'il soit
bien constant que dans une affaire sur laquelle le monde entier a les
yeux fixés, le Roi et lui ont procédé avec justice." Ibid., p. 669.

[1121] This tedious instrument is given _in extenso_ by Foppens,
Supplément à Strada, tom. I. pp. 44-63.

[1122] Indeed, this seems to have been the opinion of the friends of the
government. Councillor Belin writes to Granvelle, December 14, 1567:
"They have arrested Hoorne and Egmont, but in their accusations have not
confined themselves to individual charges, but have accumulated a
confused mass of things." Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,
vol. I. p. 182.

[1123] For example, see the thirty-eighth article, in which the
attorney-general accuses Egmont of admitting, on his examination, that
he had parted with one of his followers, suspected of heretical
opinions, for a short time only, when, on the contrary, he had expressly
stated that the dismissal was final, and that he had never seen the man
since. Supplément à Strada, tom. I. p. 40.

[1124] Egmont's defence, of which extracts, wretchedly garbled, are
given by Foppens, has been printed _in extenso_ by M. de Bavay, in his
useful compilation, Procès du Comte d'Egmont, (Bruxelles, 1854,) pp.
121-153.

[1125] "Suppliant à tous ceux qui la verront, croire qu'il a respondu à
tous les articles sincerement et en toute vérité, comme un Gentilhomme
bien né est tenu et obligé de faire." Supplément à Strada, tom. I. p.
209.

[1126] Foppens has devoted nearly all the first volume of his
"_Supplément_" to pieces illustrative of the proceedings against Egmont
and Hoorne. The articles of accusation are given at length. His
countrymen are under obligations to this compiler, who thus early
brought before them so many documents of great importance to the
national history. The obligations would have been greater, if the editor
had done his work in a scholar-like way,--instead of heaping together a
confused mass of materials, without method, often without dates, and
with so little care, that the titles of the documents are not seldom at
variance with the contents.

[1127] At least such is the account which Foppens gives of the
"Justification," as it is termed, of Hoorne, of which the Flemish editor
has printed only the preamble and the conclusion, without so much as
favoring us with the date of the instrument. (Supplément à Strada, tom.
I. pp. 241-243.) M. de Bavay, on the other hand, has given the defence
set up by Egmont's counsel _in extenso_. It covers seventy printed
pages, being double the quantity occupied by Egmont's defence of
himself. By comparing the two together, it is easy to see how closely
the former, though with greater amplification, is fashioned on the
latter. Procès du Comte d'Egmont, pp. 153-223.

[1128] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. I. p. 582.

[1129] "Quoique, avant le départ du duc, il ait été reconnu, dans les
délibérations qui ont eu lieu à Madrid en sa présence, que cette
prétention n'était pas fondée, le Roi, vu la gravité de l'affaire, a
ordonné que quelques personnes d'autorité et de lettres se réunissent de
nouveau, pour examiner la question.--Il communique au duc les
considérations qui ont été approuvées dans cette junte, et qui
confirment l'opinion précédemment émise." Ibid., p. 612.

[1130] The letters patent were antedated, as far back as April 15, 1567,
probably that they might not appear to have been got up for the nonce.
Conf. Ibid., p. 528.

[1131] "J'espère en la bonté, clémence et justice de Votre Majesté
qu'icelle ne voudra souffrir que je sorte vos pays, avec mes onze
enfants, pour aller hors d'iceux chercher moyen de vivre, ayant été
amenée par feu de bonne mémoire l'Empereur, votre père." Ibid., tom. II.
p. 5.

[1132] "Haud facilè sine commiseratione legi à quoquam potest." Strada,
De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 387.

According to Alva's biographer, Ossorio, the appeal of the countess
would _probably_ have softened the heart of Philip, and inclined him to
an "ill-timed clemency," had it not been for the remonstrance of
Cardinal Espinosa, then predominant in the cabinet, who reminded the
king that "clemency was a sin when the outrage was against religion."
(Albæ Vita, p. 282.) To one acquainted with the character of Philip the
"probability" of the historian may seem somewhat less than probable.

[1133] Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 18.

[1134] Supplément à Strada, tom. I. p. 90.

[1135] Ibid., p. 252.--By a decree passed on the eighteenth of May,
Egmont had been already excluded from any further right to bring
evidence in his defence. The documents connected with this matter are
given by Foppens, Ibid., tom. I. pp. 90-103.

[1136] Among the documents analyzed by Gachard is one exhibiting the
revenues of the great lords of the Low Countries, whose estates were
confiscated. No one except the prince of Orange had an income nearly so
great as that of Egmont, amounting to 63,000 florins. He had a palace at
Brussels, and other residences at Mechlin, Ghent, Bruges, Arras, and the
Hague.

The revenues of Count Hoorne amounted to about 8,500 florins. Count
Culemborg, whose hotel was the place of rendezvous for the Gueux, had a
yearly income exceeding 31,000 florins. William's revenues, far greater
than either, rose above 152,000. Correspondance de Philippe II., tom.
II. p. 116.

[1137] Supplément à Strada, tom. I. pp. 252-257.

[1138] In a letter dated January 6, 1568, Alva tells the king that
Viglius, after examining into the affair, finds the evidence so clear on
the point, that nothing more could be desired. Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. II. p. 4.

[1139] For the facts connected with the constitution of the _Toison
d'Or_, I am indebted to a Dutch work, now in course of publication in
Amsterdam (Algemeene Geschiedenis des Vaderlands, van de vroegste tijden
tot op heden, door Dr. J. P. Arend). This work, which is designed to
cover the whole history of the Netherlands, may claim the merits of a
thoroughness rare in this age of rapid bookmaking, and of a candor rare
in any age. In my own ignorance of the Dutch, I must acknowledge my
obligations to a friend for enabling me to read it. I must further add,
that for the loan of the work I am indebted to the courtesy of B. Homer
Dixon, Esq., Consul for the Netherlands in Boston.

[1140] M. de Bavay has devoted seventy pages or more of his publication
to affidavits of witnesses in behalf of the prosecution. (Procès du
Comte d'Egmont, pp. 267-322.) But their testimony bears almost
exclusively on the subject of Egmont's dealings with the
sectaries,--scarcely warranting the Flemish editor's assertion in his
preface, that he has been able to furnish "all the elements of the
conviction of the accused by the duke of Alva."

M. de Bavay's work is one of the good fruits of that patriotic zeal
which animates the Belgian scholars of our time for the illustration of
their national history. It was given to the public only the last year,
after the present chapter had been written. In addition to what is
contained in former publications, it furnishes us with complete copies
of the defence of Egmont, as prepared both by himself and his counsel,
and with the affidavits above noticed of witnesses on the part of the
government. It has supplied me, therefore, with valuable materials,
whether for the correction or the corroboration of my previous
conclusions.

[1141] The resistance, to which those who signed the Compromise were
pledged, was to the Inquisition, in case of its attempt to arrest any
member of their body. Ante, Book II.

[1142] By the famous statute, in particular, of Edward the Third, the
basis of all subsequent legislation on the subject. Some reflections,
both on this law and the laws which subsequently modified it, made with
the usual acuteness of their author, may be found in the fifteenth
chapter of Hallam's Constitutional History of England.

[1143] The original document is to be found in the archives of Brussels,
or was in the time of Vandervynckt, who, having examined it carefully,
gives a brief notice of it. (Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. pp. 256,
257.) The name of its author should be cherished by the historian, as
that of a magistrate who, in the face of a tyrannical government, had
the courage to enter his protest against the judicial murders
perpetrated under its sanction.

[1144] Among other passages, see one in a letter of Margaret to the
king, dated March 23, 1567. "Ceulx de son conseil icy, qui s'employent
tout fidèlement et diligemment en son service, et entre aultres le comte
d'Egmont dont je ne puis avoir synon bon contentement." Correspondance
de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 235.

[1145] M. de Gerlache, in a long note to the second edition of his
history, enters into a scrutiny of Egmont's conduct as severe as that by
the attorney-general himself,--and with much the same result. (Hist. du
Royaume des Pays-Bas, tom. I. pp. 99-101.) "Can any one believe," he
asks, "that if, instead of having the 'Demon of the South'for his
master, it had been Charles the Fifth or Napoleon, Egmont would have
been allowed to play the part he did with impunity so long?" This kind
of Socratic argument, as far as it goes, proves only that Philip did no
worse than Charles or Napoleon would have done. It by no means proves
Egmont to have deserved his sentence.

[1146] Relacion de la Justicia que se hizo de los Contes Agamont y Orne,
MS.

[1147] "Marcharent dans la ville en bataille, et avecques une batterie
de tambourins et de phiffres si pitieuse qu'il n'y avoit spectateur de
si bon cœur qui ne palist et ne pleurast d'une si triste pompe funebre."
Mondoucet, ap. Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 363.

[1148] De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom V. p. 450.--Guerres Civiles du
Pays-Bas, p. 172.--Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 57.--Relacion de la
Justicia que se hizo de los Contes Agamont y Orne, MS.

[1149] "Sur quoy le Duc lui repondit fort vivement et avec une espece de
colere, qu'il ne l'avoit pas fait venir à Brusselle pour mettre quelque
empechement à l'execution de leur sentence, mais bien pour les consoler
et les assister à mourir chretiennement." Supplement à Strada, tom. I.
p. 259.

[1150] "Venian en alguna manera contentos de pensar que sus causas
andaban al cabo, y que havian de salir presto y bien despachados este
dia." Relacion de la Justicia, MS.

[1151] "Voicy une sentence bien rigoureuse, je ne pense pas d'avoir tant
offencé Sa Majesté, pour meriter un tel traittement; neanmoins je le
prens en patience et prie le Seigneur, que ma mort soit une expiation de
mes pechés, et que par là, ma chere Femme et mes Enfans n'encourent
aucun blame, ny confiscation. Car mes services passez meritent bien
qu'on me fasse cette grace. Puis qu'il plait à Dieu et au Roy, j'accepte
la mort avec patience." Supplément à Strada, tom. I. p. 259.--These
remarks of Egmont are also given, with very little discrepancy, by
Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 56; in the Relacion de la Justicia que
se hizo de los Contes Agamont y Orne, MS.; and in the relation of
Mondoucet, ap. Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 364.

[1152] "Et combien que jamais mon intention n'ait esté de riens
traicter, ni faire contre la Personne, ni le service de Vostre Majesté,
ne contre nostre vraye, ancienne, et catholicque Religion, si est-ce que
je prens en patience, ce qu'il plaist à mon bon Dieu de m'envoyer."
Supplément à Strada, tom. I. p. 261.

[1153] "Parquoy, je prie a Vostre Majesté me le pardonner, et avoir
pitié de ma pauvre femme, enfans et serviteurs, vous souvenant de mes
services passez. Et sur cest espoir m'en vois me recommander à la
miséricorde de Dieu. De Bruxelles prest à mourir, ce 5 de Juing 1568."
Ibid., ubi supra.

[1154] "Et luy donna une bague fort riche que le roy d'Espaigne luy
avoit donné lors qu'il fut en Espaigne, en signe d'amitié, pour la luy
envoyer et faire tenir." Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 361.

[1155] "En après, le comte d'Aiguemont commença à soliciter fort
l'advancement de sa mort, disant que puis qu'il devoit mourir qu'on ne
le devoit tenir si longuement en ce travail." Mondoucet, Ibid., p. 366.

[1156] "Il estoit vestu d'une juppe de damas cramoisy, et d'un manteau
noir avec du passement d'or, les chausses de taffetas noir et le bas de
chamois bronzé, son chapeau de taffetas noir couvert de force plumes
blanches et noires." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1157] Ossorio, Albæ Vita, p. 287.--Guerres Civiles du Pays-Bas, p.
177.--Relacion de la Justicia, MS.

[1158] This personage, whose name was Spel, met with no better fate than
that of the victims whose execution he now superintended. Not long after
this he was sentenced to the gallows by the duke, to the great
satisfaction of the people, as Strada tells us, for the manifold crimes
he had committed. De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 387.

[1159] The executioner was said to have been formerly one of Egmont's
servants. "El verdugo, que hasta aquel tiempo no se havia dejado ver,
por que en la forma de morir se le tuvo este respeto, hizo su oficio con
gran presteza, al qual havia hecho dar aquel maldito oficio el dicho
Conde, y dicen aver sido lacayo suyo." Relacion de la Justicia,
MS.--This _relacion_ forms part of a curious compilation in MS.,
entitled "Cartas y Papeles varios," in the British Museum. The compiler
is supposed to have been Pedro de Gante, secretary of the duke of
Naxera, who amused himself with transcribing various curious "relations"
of the time of Charles the Fifth and Philip the Second.

[1160] "Todas las boticas se cerraron, y doblaron por ellos todo el dia
las campanas de las Yglesias, que no parecia otra cosa si no dia de
juicio." Relacion de la Justicia, MS.

[1161] "Lesquelz pleuroient et regrettoient de voir un si grand
capitaine mourir ainsi." Mondoucet, ap. Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p.
367.

[1162] "II se pourmena quelque peu, souhaytant de pouvoir finir sa vie
au service de son Prince et du pais." Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol.
58.

[1163] "Alzò los ojos al cielo por un poco espacio con un semblante tan
doloroso, como se puede pensar le tenia en aquel transito un hombre tan
discreto." Relacion de la Justicia, MS.

[1164] "En gran silencio, con notable lastima, sin que por un buen
espacio se sintiese rumor ninguno." Ibid.

[1165] "Fuere, qui linteola, contemplo periculo, Egmontii cruore
consparserint, servaverintque, seu monumentum amoris, seu vindictæ
irritamentum." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 394.

[1166] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 58.--Guerres Civiles du
Pays-Bas, p. 177--Relacion de la Justicia, MS.

M. de Bavay has published a letter from one of the bishop of Ypres's
household, giving an account of the last hours of Egmont, and written
immediately after his death. (Procès du Comte d'Egmont, pp. 232-234.)
The statements in the letter entirely corroborate those made in the
text. Indeed, they are so nearly identical with those given by Foppens
in the Supplément à Strada, that we can hardly doubt that the writer of
the one narrative had access to the other.

[1167] "Que avia servido á su magestad veinte y ocho años y no pensaba
tener merecido tal payo, pero que se consolaba que con dar su cuerpo á
la tierra, saldria de los continuos trauajos en que havia vivido."
Relacion de la Justicia, MS.

[1168] "Se despita, maugreant et regrettant fort sa mort, et se trouva
quelque peu opiniastre en la confession, la regrettant fort, disant
qu'il estoit assez confessé." Mondoucet, ap. Brantôme, tom. I. p. 365.

[1169] "Il étoit agé environ cinquante ans, et étoit d'une grande et
belle taille, et d'une phisionomie revenante." Supplément à Strada, tom.
I. p. 264.

[1170] "The death of this man," says Strada, "would have been
immoderately mourned, had not all tears been exhausted by sorrow for
Egmont." De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 396.

For the account of Hoorne's last moments, see Relacion de la Justicia,
MS.; Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 58; Supplément à Strada, tom. I.
pp. 265, 266; Mondoucet, ap. Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 367; De Thou,
Hist. Universelle, tom. I. p. 451; Ossorio, Albæ Vita, p. 287.

[1171] "Plusieurs allarent à l'église Saincte Claire où gisoit son
corps, baisant le cercueil avec grande effusion de larmes, comme si ce
fust esté les saincts ossemens et reliques de quelque sainct."
Mondoucet, ap. Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 367.

[1172] Arend, Algemeene Geschiedenis des Vaderlands, D. II. St. v. bl.
66.--Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 395.

[1173] "Les gens du comte d'Aiguemont plantèrent ses armes et enseignes
de deuil à sa porte du palais; mais le duc d'Albe en estant adverty, les
en fit bien oster bientost et emporter dehors." Mondoucet, ap. Brantôme,
Œuvres, tom. I. p. 367.

[1174] Mondoucet, the French ambassador at the court of Brussels, was
among the spectators who witnessed the execution of the two nobles. He
sent home to his master a full account of the tragic scene, the most
minute, and perhaps the most trustworthy, that we have of it. It luckily
fell into Brantôme's hands, who has incorporated it into his notice of
Egmont.

[1175] "La comtesse d'Aiguemont, qui emporta en cette assemblée le bruit
d'être la plus belle de toutes les Flamandes." Correspondance de
Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 364.

[1176] Gerlache, Hist. du Royaume des Pays-Bas, tom. I. p. 96.

[1177] "Qu'il avoit vu tomber la tête de celui qui avoit fait trembler
deux fois la France." Supplément à Strada, tom. I. p. 266.

[1178] Morillon, in a letter to Granvelle, dated August 3, 1567, a few
weeks only before Egmont's arrest, gives a graphic sketch of that
nobleman, which, although by no friendly hand, seems to be not wholly
without truth. "Ce seigneur, y est-il dit, est haut et présumant de soy,
jusques à vouloir embrasser le faict de la république et le redressement
d'icelle et de la religion, que ne sont pas de son gibier, et est plus
propre peur conduire une chasse ou volerie, et, pour dire tout, une
bataille, s'il fut esté si bien advisé que de se cognoistre et se
mesurer de son pied; mais les flatteries perdent ces gens, et on leur
fait accroire qu'ilz sont plus saiges qu'ilz ne sont, et ilz le croient
et se bouttent sy avant, que aprèz ilz ne se peuvent ravoir, et il est
force qu'ilz facent le sault." Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau,
tom. I. p. lxix.

[1179] "Je diray de lui que c'estoit le seigneur de la plus belle façon
et de la meilleure grace que j'aye veu jamais, fust ce parmy les grandz,
parmy ses pairs, parmy les gens de guerre, et parmy les dames, l'ayant
veu en France et en Espagne, et parlé à luy." Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I.
p. 369.

An old lady of the French court, who in her early days had visited
Flanders, assured Brantôme that she had often seen Egmont, then a mere
youth, and that at that time he was excessively shy and awkward, so much
so, indeed, that it was a common jest with both the men and women of the
court. Such was the rude stock from which at a later day was to spring
the flower of chivalry!

[1180] "Posteà in publicâ lætitiâ dum uterque explodendo ad signum
sclopo ex provocatione contenderent, superatus esset Albanus, ingenti
Belgarum plausu ad nationis suæ decus referentium victoriam ex Duce
Hispano." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 391.

[1181] Schiller, in his account of the execution of the two nobles,
tells us that it was from a window of the Hôtel de Ville, the fine old
building on the opposite side of the market-place, that Alva watched the
last struggles of his victims. The _cicerone_, on the other hand, who
shows the credulous traveller the _memorabilia_ of the city, points out
the very chamber in the Maison du Roi in which the duke secreted
himself.--_Valeat quantum._

[1182] "Qu'il avoit procuré de tout son povoir la mitigation, mais que
l'on avoit répondu que, si il n'y eut esté aultre offence que celle qui
touchoit S. M., le pardon fut esté facille, mais qu'elle ne pouvoit
remettre l'offense faicte si grande à Dieu." Archives de la Maison
d'Orange-Nassau, Supplément, p. 81.

[1183] "J'entendz d'aucuns que son Exc. at jecté des larmes aussi
grosses que poix en temps que l'on estoit sur ces exécutions." Ibid.,
ubi supra.

They must have been as big as crocodiles'tears.

[1184] Ante, Book II.

[1185] "Je suis occupé à réunir mes troupes, Espagnoles, Italiennes, et
Allemandes; quand je serai prêt, vous recevrez ma réponse." Archives de
la Maison d'Orange-Nassau, tom. III. p. xx.

[1186] "Il lui rend compte de ce qu'il a fait pour l'exécution des
ordres que le Roi lui donna à son départ, et qui consistaient à arrêter
et à châtier exemplairement les principaux du pays qui s'étaient rendus
coupables durant les troubles." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II.
p. 29.

[1187] "C'a été une chose de grand effet en ce pays, que l'exécution
d'Egmont; et plus grand a été l'effet, plus l'exemple qu'on a voulu
faire sera fructueux." Ibid., p. 28.

[1188] Ossorio, Albæ Vita, p. 278.

[1189] "V. M. peult considérer le regret que ça m'a esté de voir ces
pauvres seigneurs venus à tels termes, et qu'il ayt fallut que moy en
fusse l'exécuteur." Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche, p. 252.

[1190] "Madame d'Egmont me faict grand pitié et compassion, pour la voir
chargée de unze enfans et nuls addressez, et elle, dame sy principale,
comme elle est, sœur du comte palatin, et de si bonne, vertueuse,
catholicque et exemplaire vie, qu'il n'y a homme qui ne la regrette."
Ibid., ubi supra.

[1191] The duke wrote no less than three letters to the king, of this
same date, June 9. The _precis_ of two is given by Gachard, and the
third is published entire by Reiffenberg. The countess and her
misfortunes form the burden of two of them.

[1192] "Il ne croit pas qu'il y ait aujourd'hui sur la terre une maison
aussi malheureuse; il ne sait même si la contesse aura de quoi souper ce
soir." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 28.

[1193] "Je treuve ce debvoir de justice estre faict comme il convient et
vostre considération très-bonne." Correspondance de Marguerite
d'Autriche, p. 255.

[1194] "Mais personne ne peult délaisser de se acquitter en ce en quoy
il est obligé." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1195] "Quant à la dame d'Egmont et ses unze enfans, et ce que me y
représentez, en me les recommandant, je y auray tout bon regard." Ibid.,
ubi supra.

[1196] Arend, (Algemeene Geschiedenis des Vaderlands, D. II. St. v. bl.
66,) who gets the story, to which he attaches no credit himself, from a
contemporary, Hooft.

[1197] Supplément à Strada, tom. I. p. 252.

[1198] "Laquelle, ainsi qu'elle estoit en sa chambre et sur ces propos,
on luy vint annoncer qu'on alloit trancher la teste à son mary."
Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 368.

Under all the circumstances, one cannot insist strongly on the
probability of the anecdote.

[1199] One of her daughters, in a fit of derangement brought on by
excessive grief for her father's fate, attempted to make away with
herself by throwing herself from a window. Relacion de la Justicia, MS.

[1200] This was the duplicate, no doubt, of the letter given to the
bishop of Ypres, to whom Egmont may have intrusted a copy, with the idea
that it would be more certain to reach the hands of the king than the
one sent to his wife.

[1201] "La misère où elle se trouve, étant devenue veuve avec onze
enfans, abandonnée de tous, hors de son pays et loin de ses parents, l'a
empêchée d'envoyer plus tôt au Roi la dernière et très-humble requête de
son défunt mari." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 31.

[1202] "De la bénignité et pitié du Roi." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1203] "Ce que m'obligerat, le reste de mes tristes jours, et toute ma
postérité, à prier Dieu pour la longue et heureuse vie de V. M." Ibid.,
ubi supra.

[1204] "S'il ne leur avait pas donné quelque argent, ils mourraient de
faim." Ibid., p. 38.

[1205] It seems strange that Göthe, in his tragedy of "Egmont," should
have endeavored to excite what may be truly called a meretricious
interest in the breasts of his audience, by bringing an imaginary
mistress, named Clara, on the stage, instead of the noble-hearted wife,
so much better qualified to share the fortunes of her husband and give
dignity to his sufferings. Independently of other considerations, this
departure from historic truth cannot be defended on any true principle
of dramatic effect.

[1206] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 183.

[1207] After an annual grant, which rose from eight to twelve thousand
livres, the duke settled on her a pension of two thousand gulden, which
continued to the year of his death, in 1578. (Arend, Algemeene
Geschiedenis des Vaderlands, D. II. St. v. bl. 66.) The gulden, or
guilder, at the present day, is equivalent to about one shilling and
ninepence sterling, or thirty-nine cents.

[1208] Philip, Count Egmont, lived to enjoy his ancestral honors till
1590, when he was slain at Ivry, fighting against Henry the Fourth and
the Protestants of France. He died without issue, and was succeeded by
his brother Lamoral, a careless prodigal, who with the name seems to
have inherited few of the virtues of his illustrious father. Arend,
Algemeene Geschiedenis des Vaderlands, D. II. St. v. bl. 66.

[1209] Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 259.

[1210] "La mort des comtes d'Egmont et de Hornes, et ce qui s'est passé
avec l'électeur de Trèves, servent merveilleusement ses desseins."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 37.

[1211] "Les exécutions faites ont imprimé dans les esprits une terreur
si grande, qu'on croit qu'il s'agit de gouverner par le sang à
perpétuité'." Ibid., p. 29.

[1212] "Il n'y a plus de confiance du frère au frère, et du père au
fils." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1213] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1214] "Funestum Egmontii finem doluere Belgæ odio majore, quàm luctu."
Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 394.

[1215] The Flemish councillor, Hessels, who, it may be remembered, had
particular charge of the provincial prosecutions, incurred still greater
odium by the report of his being employed to draft the sentences of the
two lords. He subsequently withdrew from the bloody tribunal, and
returned to his native province, where he became vice-president of the
council of Flanders. This new accession of dignity only made him a more
conspicuous mark for the public hatred. In 1577, in a popular
insurrection which overturned the government of Ghent, Hessels was
dragged from his house, and thrown into prison. After lying there a
year, a party of ruffians broke into the place, forced him into a
carriage, and, taking him a short distance from town, executed the
summary justice of _Lynch law_ on their victim by hanging him to a tree.
Some of the party, after the murder, were audacious enough to return to
Ghent, with locks of the gray hair of the wretched man displayed in
triumph on their bonnets.

Some years later, when the former authorities were reëstablished, the
bones of Hessels were removed from their unhallowed burial-place, and
laid with great solemnity and funeral pomp in the church of St. Michael.
Prose and verse were exhausted in his praise. His memory was revered as
that of a martyr. Miracles were performed at his tomb; and the popular
credulity went so far, that it was currently reported in Ghent that
Philip had solicited the pope for his canonization! See the curious
particulars in Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. pp.
451-456.

[1216] "Este es un pueblo tan fácil, que espero que con ver la clemencia
de V. M., haciendose el pardon general, se ganarán los ánimos á que de
buena gana lleven la obediencia que digo, que ahora sufren de malo."
Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 29.

[1217] "Le bruit public qui subsiste encore, divulgue qu'il est mort
empoisonné." Vandervynckt, Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 285.--The
author himself does not indorse the vulgar rumor.

[1218] Meteren tells us that Montigny was killed by poison, which his
page, who afterwards confessed the crime, put in his broth. (Hist. des
Pays-Bas, fol. 60.) Vandervynckt, after noticing various rumors,
dismisses them with the remark, "On n'a pu savoir au juste ce qu'il
était devenu." Troubles des Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 237.

[1219] His revenues seem to have been larger than those of any other
Flemish lord, except Egmont and Orange, amounting to something more than
fifty thousand florins annually. Correspondance de Philippe II., tom.
II. p. 115.

[1220] Ibid., Rapport, p. xxxvii.

It was reported to Philip's secretary, Erasso, by that mischievous
bigot, Fray Lorenzo Villavicencio; not, as may be supposed, to do honor
to the author of it, but to ruin him.

[1221] Correspondance de Philippe II. tom. I. p. 439.

[1222] See the letters of the royal _contador_, Alonzo del Canto, from
Brussels. (Ibid., tom. I. pp. 411, 425.) Granvelle, in a letter from
Rome, chimes in with the same tune,--though, as usual with the prelate,
in a more covert manner. "Le choix de Berghes et Montigny n'est pas
mauvais, si le but de leur mission est d'informer le Roi de l'état des
choses: car ils sont ceux qui en ont le mieux connaissance, et qui
peut-être y ont pris le plus de part." Ibid., p. 417.

[1223] "Autrement, certes, Madame, aurions juste occasion de nous doloir
et de V. A. et des seigneurs de par delà, pour nous avoir commandé de
venir ici, pour recevoir honte et desplaisir, estantz forcés
journellement de véoir et oyr choses qui nous desplaisent jusques à
l'âme, et de veoir aussy le peu que S. M. se sert de nous." Ibid. p.
498.

[1224] This letter is dated November 18, 1566. (Ibid., p. 486.) The
letter of the two lords was written on the last day of the December
following.

[1225] Her letter is dated March 5, 1567. Ibid., p. 516.

[1226] Ibid., p. 535.

[1227] "De lui dire (mais seulement après qu'il se sera assuré qu'une
guérison est à peu près impossible) que le Roi lui permet de retourner
aux Pays-Bas: si, au contraire, il lui paraissait que le marquis pût se
rétablir, il se contenterait de lui faire espérer cette permission."
Ibid., ubi supra.

[1228] "Il sera bien, en cette occasion, de montrer le regret que le Roi
et ses ministres ont de sa mort, et le cas qu'ils font des seigneurs des
Pays-Bas!" Ibid., p. 536.

[1229] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1230] "Elle espère le voir sous peu, puisque le Roi lui a fait dire que
son intention était de lui donner bientôt son congé." Ibid., p.
558.--The letter is dated July 13.

[1231] The order for the arrest, addressed to the conde de Chinchon,
alcayde of the castle of Segovia, is to be found in the Documentos
Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 526.

[1232] This fact is mentioned in a letter of the alcayde of the
fortress, giving an account of the affair to the king. Correspondance de
Philippe II., tom. II. p. 3.

[1233] The contents of the paper secreted in the loaf are given in the
Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. pp. 527-533.--The latter portion of the
fourth volume of this valuable collection is occupied with documents
relating to the imprisonment and death of Montigny, drawn from the
Archives of Simancas, and never before communicated to the public.

[1234] "Il ne les fera point exécuter, mais il les retiendra en prison,
car ils peuvent servir à la vérification de quelque point du procès de
Montigny lui-même." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 37.

[1235] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 60.

[1236] "Et _consommée en larmes et pleurs_ afin que, en considération
des services passés de sondit mari, de son jeune âge à elle, qui n'a été
en la compagnie de son mari qu'environ quatre mois, et de la passion de
Jésus Christ, S. M. veuille lui pardonner les fautes qu'il pourrait
avoir commises." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 94.

[1237] Ibid., p. 123, note.

[1238] Ibid., p. 90.

[1239] "Visto el proceso por algunos de Consejo de S. M. destos sus
Estados por mí nombrados para el dicho efecto." Documentos Inéditos,
tom. IV. p. 535.

[1240] The sentence may be found, Ibid., pp. 535-537.

[1241] "Porque no viniese á noticia de ninguno de los otros hasta saber
la voluntad de V. M." Ibid., p. 533.

[1242] "Así que constando tan claro de sus culpas y delictos, en cuanto
al hecho da la justicia no habia que parar mas de mandarla ejecutar."
Ibid., p. 539

[1243] "Por estar acá el delincuento que dijeran que se habia hecho
entre compadres, y como opreso, sin se poder defender jurídicamente."
Ibid., p. 561.

[1244] "Parescia á los mas que era bien darle un bocado ó echar algun
género de veneno en la comida ó bebida con que se fuese muriendo poco á
poco, y pudiese componer las cosas de su ánima como enfermo." Ibid., ubi
supra.

[1245] "Mas á S. M. paresció que desta manera no se cumplía con la
justicia." Ibid. ubi supra.--These particulars are gathered from a full
report of the proceedings sent, by Philip's orders, to the duke of Alva,
November 2, 1570.

[1246] The _garrote_ is still used in capital punishments in Spain. It
may be well to mention, for the information of some of my readers, that
it is performed by drawing a rope tight round the neck of the criminal,
so as to produce suffocation. This is done by turning a stick to which
the rope is attached behind his head. Instead of this apparatus, an iron
collar is more frequently employed in modern executions.

[1247] This is established by a letter of the cardinal himself, in which
he requests the king to command all officials to deliver into his hands
their registers, instruments, and public documents of every
description,--to be placed in these archives, that they may hereafter be
preserved from injury. His biographer adds, that few of these
documents--such only as could be gleaned by the cardinal's
industry--reach as far back as the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella.
Quintinilla, Vida de Ximenes, p. 264.

[1248] M. Gachard, who gives us some interesting particulars of the
ancient fortress of Simancas, informs us that this tower was the scene
of some of his own labors there. It was an interesting circumstance,
that he was thus exploring the records of Montigny's sufferings in the
very spot which witnessed them.

[1249] "Así lo cumplió poniéndole grillos para mayor seguridad, aunque
esto fué sin órden, porque ni esto era menester ni quisiera S. M. que se
hubiera hecho." Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 561.

[1250] Meteren, Hist. des Pays-Bas, fol. 60.

[1251] This lying letter, dated at Simancas, October 10, with the scrap
of mongrel Latin which it enclosed, may be found in the Documentos
Inéditos, tom. IV. pp. 550-552.

[1252] The instructions delivered to the licentiate Don Alonzo de
Arellano are given in full, Ibid., pp. 542-549.

[1253] "Aunque S. M. tenia por cierto que era muy jurídica, habida
consideracion á la calidad de su persona y usando con él de su Real
clemencia y benignidad habia tenido por bien de moderarla en cuanto á la
forma mandando que no se ejecutase en público, sino allí en secreto por
su honor, y que se daria á entender haber muerto de aquella enfermedad."
Ibid., p. 563.

[1254] The confession of faith may be found in the Documentos Inéditos,
tom. IV. p. 553.

[1255] "Si el dicho Flores de Memorancí quisiese ordenar testamento no
habrá para que darse á esto lugar, pues siendo confiscados todos sus
bienes y por tales crímines, ni puede testar ni tiene de qué." Ibid., p.
548.

[1256] "Empero si todavía quisiere hacer alguna memoria de deudas ó
descargos se le podrá permitir como en esto no se haga mencion alguna de
la justicia y ejecucion que se hace, sino que sea hecho como memorial de
hombre enfermo y que se temia morir." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1257] "Quant aux mercèdes qu'il a accordées, il n'y a pas lieu d'y
donner suite." Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 169.

[1258] "En lo uno y en lo otro tuvo las demostraciones de católico y
buen cristiano que yo deseo para mí." See the letter of Fray Hernando
del Castillo, Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. pp. 554-559.

[1259] "Fuéle creciendo por horas el desengaño de la vida, la paciencia,
el sufrimiento, y la conformidad con la voluntad de Dios y de su Rey,
cuya sentencia siempre alabó por justa, mas siempre protestando de su
inocencia." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1260] "Y acabada su plática y de encomendarse á Dios todo el tiempo que
quiso, e verdugo hizo su oficio dándole garrote." See the account of
Montigny's death despatched to the duke of Alva. It was written in
cipher, and dated November 2, 1570. Ibid., p. 560 et seq.

[1261] "Poniendo pena de muerte á los dichos escribano y verdugo si lo
descubriesen." Ibid., p. 564.

[1262] "Y no será inconveniente que se dé luto á sus criados pues son
pocos." La órden que ha de tener el Licenciado D. Alonzo de Arellano,
Ibid., p. 542 et seq.

[1263] Ibid., p. 549. Correspondance de Philippe II., tom. II p. 159.

[1264] Carta de D. Eugenio de Peralta á S. M., Simancas, 17 de Octubre,
1570, Documentos Inéditos, tom. IV. p. 559.

[1265] "No las mostrando de propósito sino descuidadamente á las
personas que paresciere, para que por ellas se divulgue haber fallescido
de su muerte natural." Ibid., p. 564.

[1266] "El cual si en lo interior acabó tan cristianamente como lo
mostró en lo exterior y lo ha referido el fraile que le confesó, es de
creer que se habrá apiadado Dios de su ánima." Carta de S. M. al Duque
de Alba, del Escurial, á 3 de Noviembre, 1570, Ibid., p. 565.

[1267] "Esto mismo borrad de la cifra, que de los muertos no hay que
hacer sino buen juico." Ibid., ubi supra, note.

[1268] The confiscated estates of the marquis of Bergen were restored by
Philip to that nobleman's heirs, in 1577. See Vandervynckt, Troubles des
Pays-Bas, tom. II. p. 235.

[1269] "Attendu que est venu à sa notice que ledict de Montigny seroit
allé de vie à trespas, par mort naturelle, en la forteresse de
Symancques, où il estoit dernièrement détenu prisonier." Correspondance
de Philippe II., tom. II. p. 171.

[1270] For the preceding pages I have been indebted, among other
sources, to Sagredo, "Memorias Historicas de los Monarcas Othomanos,"
(trad. Cast., Madrid, 1684,) and to Ranke, "Ottoman and Spanish
Empires;" to the latter in particular. The work of this eminent scholar,
resting as it mainly does on the contemporary reports of the Venetian
ministers, is of the most authentic character; while he has the rare
talent of selecting facts so significant for historical illustration,
that they serve the double purpose of both facts and reflections.

[1271] Cervantes, in his story of the Captive's adventures in Don
Quixote, tells us that it was common with a renegado to obtain a
certificate from some of the Christian captives of his desire to return
to Spain; so that if he were taken in arms against his countrymen, his
conduct would be set down to compulsion, and he would thus escape the
fangs of the Inquisition.

[1272] See the History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, vol. III.
part ii. chap. 21.

[1273] Ferreras, Hist. d'Espagne, tom. IX. p. 415 et seq.--Herrera,
Historia General, lib. V. cap. 18.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V.
cap. 8.--Segrado, Monarcas Othomanos, p. 234 et seq.

[1274] "Halló Don Alvaro un remedio para la falta del agua que en parte
ayudó á la necessidad, y fué, que uno de su campo le mostró, que el agua
salada se podía destilar por alambique, y aunque salió buena, y se
bevia, no se hazia tanta que bastasse, y se gastava mucha leña, de que
tenían falta." Herrera, Historia General, tom. I. p. 434.

[1275] For the account of the heroic defence of Gelves, see--and
reconcile, if the reader can--Herrera, ubi supra; Ferreras, Hist.
d'Espagne, tom. IX. pp. 416-421; Leti, Filippo II., tom. I. pp. 349-352;
Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V. cap. 11, 12; Campana, Vita di Filippo
II., par. II. lib. 12; Segrado, Monarcas Othomanos, p. 237 et
seq.--Sepulveda, De Rebus Gestis Philippi II., pp. 63-87.

[1276] "Questa sola utilità ne cava il Re di quei luoghi per
conservatione de quali spende ogni anno gran somma di denari delle sue
entrate." Relatione de Soriano, 1560, MS.

[1277] Ferreras, Hist. d'Espagne, tom. IX. p. 426.--Sepulveda, De Rebus
Gestis Philippi II. p. 90.

[1278] The details of the battle were given in a letter, dated September
5, 1558, by Don Alonzo to the king. His father fell, it seems, in an
attempt to rescue his younger son from the hands of the enemy. Though
the father died, the son was saved. It was the same Don Martin de
Cordova who so stoutly defended Mazarquivir against Hassem afterwards,
as mentioned in the text. Carta De Don Alonso de Córdova al Rey, de
Toledo, MS.

[1279] The tidings of this sad disaster, according to Cabrera, hastened
the death of Charles the Fifth (Filipe Segundo, lib. IV. cap. 13). But a
letter from the imperial secretary, Gaztelu, informs us that care was
taken that the tidings should not reach the ear of his dying master. "La
muerte del conde de Alcaudete y su desbarato se entendió aquí por carta
de Don Alonso su hijo que despachó un correo desde Toledo con la nueva y
por ser tan ruyn y estar S. Magd. en tal disposicion no se le dixo, y se
tendra cuydado de que tampoco la sepa hasta que plazca á Dios esté
libre; porque no sé yo si hay ninguno en cuyo tiempo haya sucedido tan
gran desgracia como esta." Carta de Martin de Gaztelu al Secretario
Molina, de Yuste, Set. 12, 1558, MS.--The original of this letter, like
that of the preceding, is in the Archives of Simancas.

[1280] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI cap. 10.

[1281] For this siege, the particulars of which are given in a manner
sufficiently confused by most of the writers, see Ferreras, Hist.
d'Espagne, tom. IX. p. 431 et seq.; Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI.
cap. 10; Sepulveda, De Rebus Gestis Philippi II., p. 94; Salazar de
Mendoza, Monarquia de España, (Madrid, 1770,) tom. II. p. 127; Miniana,
Historia de España, pp. 341, 342; Caro de Torres, Historia de las
Ordenes Militares, fol. 154.

[1282] According to Cabrera, (Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 12,) two
thousand infidels fell on this occasion, and only ten Christians; a fair
proportion for a Christian historian to allow. _Ex uno,_ etc.

[1283] Ferreras, Hist. d'Espagne, tom. IX. p. 455.

[1284] Campana, Vita di Filippo II., tom. II. p. 138.

[1285] Ferreras, Hist. d'Espagne, tom. IX. p. 461.

[1286] Ibid., p. 442 et seq.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap.
13.--Campana, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. pp. 137-139.--Herrera, Hist.
General, lib. X cap. 4.

The last historian closes his account of the siege of Mazarquivir with
the following not inelegant and certainly not parsimonious tribute to
the heroic conduct of Don Martin and his followers: "Despues de noventa
y dos dias que sostuvo este terrible cerco, y se embarcó para España,
quedando para siempre glorioso con los soldados que con el se hallaron,
ellos por aver sido tan obedientes, y por las hazañas que hizieron, y el
por el valor y prudencia con que los governó: por lo qual comparado á
qualquiera de los mayores Capitanes del mundo." Historia General, lib.
X. cap. 4.

[1287] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 18.--Herrera, Hist.
General, tom. I. p. 559 et seq.

[1288] The affair of the Rio de Tetuan is given at length in the
despatches of Don Alvaro Bazan, dated at Ceuta, March 10, 1565. The
correspondence of this commander is still preserved in the family
archives of the marquis of Santa Cruz, from which the copies in my
possession were taken.

[1289] Helyot, Hist. des Ordres Réligieux et Militaires, (Paris, 1792,
4to.,) tom. III. pp. 74-78.--Vertot, History of the Knights of Malta,
(Eng. trans., London, 1728, fol.,) vol. II. pp. 18-24.

[1290] Boisgelin, on the authority of Matthew Paris, says that, in 1224,
the Knights of St. John had 19,000 manors in different parts of Europe,
while the Templars had but 9,000. Ancient and Modern Malta, (London,
1805, 4to.,) vol. II. p, 19.

[1291] For an account of the institutions of the order of St. John, see
Helyot, Ordres Réligieux, tom. II. p. 58 et seq.; also the Old and New
Statutes, appended to vol. II. of Vertot's History of the Knights of
Malta.

[1292] The original deed of cession, in Latin, is published by Vertot,
Knights of Malta, vol. II. p. 157 et seq.

[1293] "Rhodes," from the Greek ῥὁδον. The origin of the
name is referred by etymologists to the great quantity of roses which
grew wild on the island. The name of _Malta_ (_Melita_) is traced to the
wild honey, μἑλι, of most excellent flavor, found among
its rocks.

[1294] A recent traveller, after visiting both Rhodes and Malta, thus
alludes to the change in the relative condition of the two islands. "We
are told that, when L'Isle Adam and his brave companions first landed on
this shore, their spirits sank within them at the contrast its dry and
barren surface presented to their delicious lost Rhodes; I have
qualified myself for adjudging that in most respects the tables are now
turned between the two islands, and they certainly afford a very
decisive criterion of the results of Turkish and Christian dominion."
The Earl of Carlisle's Diary in Turkish and Greek Waters, (Boston,
1855,) p. 204;--an unpretending volume, which bears on every page
evidence of the wise and tolerant spirit, the various scholarship, and
the sensibility to the beautiful, so characteristic of its noble author.

[1295] For the account of Malta I am much indebted to Boisgelin,
"Ancient and Modern Malta." This work gives the most complete view of
Malta, both in regard to the natural history of the island and the
military and political history of the order, that is to be found in any
book with which I am acquainted. It is a large repository of facts
crudely put together, with little to boast of on the score of its
literary execution. It is interesting as the production of a Knight of
St. John, one of the unhappy few who survived to witness the treachery
of his brethren and the extinction of his order. The last of the line,
he may well be pardoned, if, in his survey of the glorious past, he
should now and then sound the trumpet of glorification somewhat too
loudly.

[1296] "The galleys of the order alone resisted the fury of the waves;
and when Charles the Fifth was told that some vessels appeared still to
live at sea, he exclaimed, 'They must, indeed, be Maltese galleys which
can outride such a tempest!' The high opinion he had formed of this
fleet was fully justified; for the standard of the order was soon in
sight." Boisgelin, Ancient and Modern Malta, vol. II. p. 34.

[1297] Ibid., p. 61 et alibi.

[1298] The value of the freight was estimated at more than 80,000
ducats.--"Se estimo la presa mas de ochenta mil ducados, de sedas de
levante, y alombras y otras cosas, cada uno piense lo que se diria en la
corte del Turco, sobre la perdida desta nave tan poderosa, y tan rica."
La Verdadera Relacion de todo lo que el Año de M.D.LXV. ha succedido en
la Isla de Malta, por Francisco Balbi de Correggio, en todo el Sitio
Soldado, (Barcelona 1568,) fol. 19.

[1299] Ibid., fol. 17.

[1300] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. II. pp. 192-195.--Sagredo,
Monarcas Othomanos, p. 244.--Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 26 et
seq.--Boisgelin, Ancient and Modern Malta, vol. II. pp. 71-73.--De Thou,
Hist. Universelle, tom. V. pp. 51-53--J. M. Calderon de la Barca,
Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, (Madrid, 1796,) p. 28.

[1301] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. II. p. 197.--Balbi, Verdadera
Relacion, fol. 28.--The latter chronicler, who gives a catalogue of the
forces, makes the total amount of fighting men not exceed six thousand
one hundred. He speaks, however, of an indefinite number besides these,
including a thousand slaves, who in various ways contributed to the
defence of the island.

[1302] "De modo que quādo los turcos llegaron sobre sant Ermo, hauia
ochocientos hombres dentro para pelear." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol.
37.

[1303] Ibid., fol. 31.--Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. II. p. 198.

[1304] "En este tiempo ya todos los esclauos assi de sant Juan como de
particulares estauan en la carcel, que seriā bien mil esclauos. Y quando
los sacauan a trabajar a las postas adonde se trabajaua, los sacauan de
dos en dos, asidos de vna cadena." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 37.

[1305] Ibid., fol. 23.

[1306] Ibid., fol. 21.--Vertot says, of a hundred and sixty
pounds'weight. (Knights of Malta, vol. II. p. 202.) Yet even this was
far surpassed by the mammoth cannon employed by Mahomet at the siege of
Constantinople, in the preceding century, which, according to Gibbon,
threw stone bullets of six hundred pounds.

Since the above lines were written, even this achievement has been
distanced by British enterprise. The "Times" informs us of some "monster
guns," intended to be used in the Baltic, the minimum weight of whose
shot is to be three cwt., and the maximum ten.

[1307] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 26.--The old soldier goes into
the composition of the Turkish force, in the general estimate of which
he does not differ widely from Vertot.

[1308] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 84.

[1309] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1310] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 37 et seq.--Vertot, Knights of
Malta, vol. II. pp. 200-202.--- Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, p.
42.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 24.

[1311] In Vertot's account of this affair, much is said of a nondescript
outwork, termed a _cavalier_,--conveying a different idea from what is
understood by that word in modern fortifications. It stood without the
walls, and was connected with the ravelin by a bridge, the possession of
which was hotly contested by the combatants. Balbi, the Spanish soldier,
so often quoted,--one of the actors in the siege, though stationed at
the fort of St. Michael,--speaks of the fight as being carried on in the
ditch. His account has the merit of being at once the briefest and the
most intelligible.

[1312] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 40, 41.--Vertot, Knights of
Malta, vol. II. pp. 203-205.--Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, p. 48
et seq.--Segrado, Monarcas Othomanos, p. 245.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo,
lib. VI. cap. 24.--Herrera, Historia General, lib. XII. cap. 4.

[1313] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 39

[1314] Ibid., fol. 39-42.--Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, p.
46.--De Thou, Hist. Universelle, tom. V. p. 58.--Vertot, Knights of
Malta, vol. II. p. 204.--Miniana, Hist. de España, p. 350.

[1315] For the preceding pages, setting forth the embassies to La
Valette, and exhibiting in such bold relief the character of the
grand-master, I have been chiefly indebted to Vertot (Knights of Malta,
vol. I. pp. 309-312). The same story is told, more concisely, by
Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, pp. 60-67; Cabrera, Filipe Segundo,
lib. VI. cap. 25; De Thou, Hist. Universelle, tom. V. p. 61; Campana,
Filippo Secondo, par. II. p. 159; Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 44,
45.

[1316] The remains of Medran were brought over to Il Borgo, where La
Valette, from respect to his memory, caused them to be laid among those
of the Grand Crosses.--"El gran Maestre lo mando enterrar era una
sepultura, adonde se entierran los cavalleros de la gran Cruz, porque
esta era la mayor honra, que en tal tiempo le podia hazer, y el muy bien
la merecia." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 51.

[1317] The invention of this missile Vertot claims for La Valette.
(Knights of Malta, vol. II. p. 215.) Balbi refers it to a brother of the
Order, named Ramon Fortunii. (Verdadera Relacion, p. 48.)

[1318] The first shot was not so successful, killing eight of their own
side!--"Mas el artillero, o fuesse la prissa, o fuesse la turbacion que
en semejantes casos suele sobre venir en los hombres el se tuvo mas a
mano drecha, que no deviera, pues de aquel tiro mato ocho de los
nuestros que defendian aquella posta." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol.
50.

[1319] Ibid., fol. 49-51.--Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, p. 72 et
seq.--Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. II. pp. 214-216.--Cabrera, Filipe
Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 25.--Sagredo, Monarcas Othomanos, p.
245.--Herrera, Historia General, lib. XII. cap. 6

[1320] "En este assalto y en todos me han dicho cavalleros, que pelearō
no solamente ellos, y los soldados, mas que los forçados, bonas vollas,
y Malteses murieron con tanto animo, como qualquiera otra persona de
mayor estima." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 51.

[1321] "Que si su señoria Illustrissima tenia otra persona, para tal
cargo mejor, [~q] la embiasse, quel lo obedeceria como a tal, mas quel
queria quedar en sant Ermo, como privado cavallero, y por sa religion
sacrificar su cuerpo." Ibid., fol 44.

[1322] "La escuridad de la noche, fue luego muy clara, por la grāde
cātidad de los fuegos artificiales, que de ambas partes se arojavan, y
de tal manera que los que estavamos en san Miguel, veyamos muy
claramente sant Ermo, y los artilleros de sant Angel y de otras partes
apuntavan, a la lumbre de los fuegos enemigos." Ibid., fol 48.

[1323] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 53.

[1324] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. II. p. 214.

[1325] Ibid., pp. 216, 217.--Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol.
54.--Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, p. 80 et seq.--Cabrera, Filipe
Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 25.

[1326] "Ellos como aquellos [~q] la mañana navia de ser su postrer dia
en este mūdo, unos con otros se confessavan, y rogavan a nuestro señor
que por su infinita misericordia, la tuviesse de sus animas, pues le
costaron su preciossissima sangre para redemirlas." Balbi, Verdadera
Relacion, fol. 54.

See also Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. II. pp. 217, 218;--Cabrera,
Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 25.

[1327] Vertot, whose appetite for the marvellous sometimes carries him
into the miraculous, gives us to understand that not one of the garrison
survived the storming of St. Elmo. (Knights of Malta, vol. II. p. 219.)
If that were so, one would like to know how the historian got his
knowledge of what was doing in the fortress the day and night previous
to the assault. The details quoted above from Balbi account for this
knowledge, and carry with them an air of probability. (Verdadera
Relacion, fol. 55.)

[1328] "Luego que entraron los Turcos en sant Ermo, abatieron el
estādarte de san Juan, y en su lugar plantaron una vandera del gran
Turco, y en todo aquel dia no hizieron otra cosa, que plantar vāderas, y
vanderillas por la muralla, segun su costumbre." Ibid., fol. 55.

See also, for the storming of St. Elmo, Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de
Malta, pp. 81-84; Miniana, Hist. de España, p. 351; Cabrera, Filipe
Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 25; Campana, Filippo Secondo, par. II. p. 159;
Sagredo, Monarcas Othomanos, p. 245; Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. II.
p. 219 et seq.

[1329] "A todos nos pesava en el anima porque aquellas eran fiestas que
solian hazer los cavalleros en tal dia, para honor deste su santo
avogado." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 55.

[1330] Ibid., fol. 58.--Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. II. p. 220.

[1331] Balbi has given a catalogue of the knights who fell in the siege,
with the names of the countries to which they respectively belonged.
Verdadera Relacion, fol. 56.

[1332] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. II. p. 219.

No name of the sixteenth century appears more frequently in the ballad
poetry of Spain than that of Dragut. The "_Romancero General_" contains
many _romances_, some of them of great beauty, reciting the lament of
the poor captive chained to the galley of the dread rover, or
celebrating his naval encounters with the chivalry of Malta,--"_las
velas de la religion,_" as the squadrons of the order were called.

[1333] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 33.

[1334] The two principal authorities on whom I have relied for the siege
of Malta are Balbi and Vertot. The former was a soldier, who served
through the siege, his account of which, now not easily met with, was
printed shortly afterwards, and in less than three years went into a
second edition,--being that used in the present work. As Balbi was both
an eye-witness and an actor, on a theatre so limited that nothing could
be well hidden from view, and as he wrote while events were fresh in his
memory, his testimony is of the highest value. It loses nothing by the
temperate, home-bred style in which the book is written, like that of a
man anxious only to tell the truth, and not to magnify the cause or the
party to which he is attached. In this the honest soldier forms a
contrast to his more accomplished rival, the Abbé de Vertot.

This eminent writer was invited to compose the history of the order, and
its archives were placed by the knights at his disposal for this
purpose. He accepted the task; and in performing it he has sounded the
note of panegyric with as hearty a good will as if he had been a knight
hospitaller himself. This somewhat detracts from the value of a work
which must be admitted to rest, in respect to materials, on the soundest
historical basis. The abbé's turn for the romantic has probably aided,
instead of hurting him, with the generality of readers. His clear and
sometimes eloquent style, the interest of his story, and the dramatic
skill with which he brings before the eye the peculiar traits of his
actors, redeem, to some extent, the prolixity of his narrative, and have
combined, not merely to commend the book to popular favor, but to make
it the standard work on the subject.

[1335] By another ordinance, La Valette caused all the dogs in La Sangle
and Il Borgo to be killed, because they disturbed the garrisons by
night, and ate their provisions by day. Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol.
29.

[1336] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 2.

[1337] Ibid., p. 4.--Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 64.--Calderon,
Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, p. 94.--Sagredo, Monarcas Othomanos, p. 296.

[1338] Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, p. 91.--Vertot, Knights of
Malta, vol. III. p. 3.--De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. V. p.
67.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 26.--Sagredo, Monarcas
Othomanos, p. 246

[1339] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 61, 62, 68.--Calderon, Gloriosa
Defensa de Malta, pp. 95-100.--Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. pp.
4-7.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 26.--Herrera, Historia
General, lib. XII. cap. 7.

[1340] "No avia hombre que no truxesse aljuba, el que menos de grana,
muchos de tela de oro, y de plata, y damasco carmesi, y muy buenas
escopetas de fez, cimitaras de Alexandria, y de Damasco, arcos muy
finos, y muy ricos turbantes." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 70.

[1341] "Cargadas de gente muy luzida, vista por cierto muy linda, sino
fuera tan peligrosa." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1342] "Nuestro predicador fray Ruberto, el qual en todo el assalto yva
por todas las postas con un crucifixo en la una mano, y la espada en la
otra: animandonos a bien morir, y pelear por la fe de Iesu Christo: y
fue herido este dia su paternidad." Ibid., fol. 73.

[1343] "Echo nueve barcas delas mayores a fondo que no se salvo ninguno,
y auria en estas barcas ochocientos Turcos." Ibid., fol. 72.

[1344] This seems to have been Balbi's opinion.--"En conclusion, la casa
mata del comendador Guiral fue este dia a juyzio de todos la salvacion
de la Isla, porque si las barcas ya dichas echavan su gēte en tierra, no
les pudieramos resistir en ninguna manera." Ibid., fol. 73.

[1345] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 13.

[1346] Compare Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 13, and Balbi,
Verdadera Relacion, fol. 73.--The latter chronicler, for a wonder,
raises the sum total of the killed to a somewhat higher figure than the
abbé,--calling it full four thousand.

[1347] The particulars of the assaults on St. Michael and the Spur are
given by Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 61-74; and with more or less
inaccuracy by Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. pp. 8-13; Calderon,
Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, pp. 110-116; De Thou, Histoire Universelle,
tom. V. pp. 72-74; Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. V. cap. 26; Herrera,
Historia General, lib. XII. cap. 7; Sagredo, Monarcas Othomanos, p. 246;
Campana, Vita di Filippo Secondo, tom. II. p. 160.

[1348] Cruel indeed, according to the report of Balbi, who tells us that
the Christians cut off the ears of the more refractory, and even put
some of them to death,--_pour encourager les autres_.--"Han muerto en
esta jornada al trabajo mas de quinientos esclavos; mas los pobres
llegaron atal de puros cansados y acabados del trabajo continuo, que no
podían estar en pie, y se dexavan cortar las orejas y matar por no poder
trabajar mas." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 66.

[1349] Ibid., fol. 67, 77.--Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p.
18.--Campana, Vita di Filippo Secondo, tom. II. p. 160.

[1350] "En fin era in todo diligente, vigilante y animoso, y jamas se
conoscio en su valeroso semblante ninguna señal de temor, antes con su
presencia dava esfuerço y animo à sus cavalleros y soldados." Balbi,
Verdadera Relacion, fol. 77.

[1351] "Luego que todas estas baterias començaron de batir, y todas en
un tiempo, era tanto el ruydo y temblor que parecia quererse acabar el
mūdo, y puedese bien creer que el ruydo fuesse tal, pues se sentia muy
claramente dende Caragoça, y dende Catania, que ay ciento y veynte
millas de Malta a estas dos ciudades." Ibid., fol. 78.

[1352] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. pp. 21, 22.

[1353] "Dixo publicamente, que el no aguardava socorro ya sino era del
omnipotente Dios el qual era el socorro verdadero, y el que hasta
entonces nos havia librado, y que ni mas ni menos nos libraria por el
avenir, delas manos delos enemigos da su santa fee." Balbi, Verdadera
Relación, fol. 81.

[1354] "Esta habla del gran Maestre luego fue divulgada, y asi toda la
gente se determino de primero morir que venir a manos de turcos vivos,
pero tambien se determino de vender muy bien sus vidas, y asi ya no se
tratava de socorro." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1355] "No quedo hombre ni muger de edad para ello que no lo ganasse con
devocion grandissima, y con muy firme esperança y fe de yr ala gloria,
muriendo en la jornada." Ibid., fol. 71.

[1356] "Tenia mandado, que en todos los dias de assalto se llevassen por
todas las postas adonde se peleasse, muchos buyvelos de vino aguado, y
pan para refrescar su gente, pues de gente no podia." Ibid., fol. 91.

[1357] "Si todas estas buenas ordenes no uviera, no baeraran fuerças
humanas para resistir a tanta furia pertinacia, principalmēte, siendo
nosotros tan pocos, y ellos tantos." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1358] "El gran Maestre sin mudarse, ni alterarse de su semblante
valeroso, dixo, Vamos a morir alla todos cavalleros, [~q] oy es el dia."
Ibid., fol. 90.

[1359] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 24.

[1360] Vertot speaks of this last attack as having been made on the
eighteenth of August. His chronology may be corrected by that of Balbi,
whose narrative, taking the form of a diary, in which the transactions
of each day are separately noted, bears the stamp of much greater
accuracy. Balbi gives the seventh of August as the date. For the
preceding pages see Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 89-93; Vertot,
Knights of Malta, vol. III. pp. 18-24; Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de
Malta, pp. 146-150; De Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. V. p. 83 et
seq.; Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 27; Campana, Vita di
Filippo Secondo, tom. II. p. 16; Leti, Vita di Filippo II., tom. I. p.
450.

[1361] "Y sino solenne como en esta religion se suele hazer, alomenos
cōtrita a lo que las lagrimas de muchos hombres y mugeres davan señal."
Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 94

[1362] "Y como el comendador era hombre de linda disposicion, y armado
de unas armas doradas y ricas, los turcos tiraron todos a el." Ibid.,
fol. 76.

[1363] Ibid., ubi supa.--Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 14.

[1364] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 66, 82.

[1365] Ibid. fol. 78.

[1366] "Muchas vezes solo se yva a san Lorenço, y alli en su
apartamiento hazia sus oraciones. Y eneste exercicio se occupava quando
se tenia algun sosiego." Ibid., fol. 84.

[1367] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 29.

[1368] "Lo qual sabido por el gran Maestre como aquel que jamas penso
sino morir el primo por su religion, y por quitar toda sospecha despues
de aver hecho llevar en sant Angel todas las reliquias y cosas de mas
valor, mando quitar la puente, dando a entender a todo el mundo que enel
no avia retirar, sino morir en el Burgo, o defenderlo." Balbi, Verdadera
Relacion, fol. 94.

See also Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 29.; Calderon, Gloriosa
Defensa de Malta, p. 167 et seq.

[1369] "Ya seles canocia, que les faltavan muchas pieças que avian
embarcado, y cada noche se sentia como las retiravan, ala sorda sin los
alaridos que davan al principio quando las plantaron." Balbi, Verdadera
Relacion, fol. 101.

[1370] Ibid., fol. 106 et seq.--Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p.
33.--Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, pp. 172-176.--De Thou,
Histoire Universelle, tom. V. p. 88.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VI.
cap. 28.--Campana, Vita di Filippo Secondo, tom. II. p. 166.

[1371] "Como nuestra armada estuvo en parte [~q] la descubriamos
claramente, cada galera tiro tres vezes." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion,
fol. 104.

[1372] "En el retirar su artilleria, tan calladamente que no se sentia
sino el chillido de las ruedas, y Dios sabe lo que al gran Maestre
pesava, porque siempre tuvo especrança de ganarle parte della, si el
socorro se descubriera." Ibid., fol. 105.

[1373] The armory, in the government palace of Valetta, still contains a
quantity of weapons, sabres, arquebuses, steel bows, and the like, taken
at different times from the Turks. Among others is a cannon of singular
workmanship, but very inferior in size to the two pieces of ordnance
mentioned in the text. (See Bigelow's Travels in Malta and Sicily, p.
226.) Those glorious trophies of the great siege should have found a
place among the national relics.

[1374] "Yo no creo que musica jamas consolasse humanos sentidos, como á
nosotros consolo el son de nuestras campanas, alos ocho, dia dela
Natividad de nuestra señora. Porque el gran Maestre las hizo tocar todas
ala hora que se solia tocar al arma, y avía tres meses que no las
aviamos oydo sino para arma." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 105.

[1375] "Esta mañana pues tocaron la missa, la cual se canto muy de
mañana, y en pontifical, muy solemnemente, dando gracias á nuestro señor
Dios, y á su bendita madre por las gracias que nos avian hecho." Ibid.,
ubi supra.

[1376] "No dexando de pelear aquel dia, y en sangrentar muy bien sus
espadas." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 119.

[1377] "Lo qual se vio claramente dende a dos o tres dias porque los
cuerpos que se avian ahogado subieron encima del agua, los quales eran
tantos que parecian mas de tres mil, y avia tanto hedor en todo aquello
que no se podia hombre llegar ala cala." Ibid., fol. 120.

As an offset against the three thousand of the enemy who thus perished
by fire and water, the chronicler gives us four Christians slain in the
fight, and four smothered from excessive heat in their armor!

[1378] For the preceding pages see Balbi, (Verdadera Relacion, fol.
117-121,) who contrived to be present in the action; also Vertot,
Knights of Malta, vol. III. pp. 35-37; De Thou, Histoire Universelle,
tom. V. p. 89; Miniana, Hist. de España, p. 353; Campana, Vita di
Filippo Secondo, tom. II, p. 160; Herrera, Historia General, tom. I. p.
591; Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, p. 180 et seq.

[1379] "Se vinieron al Burgo, tanto por ver la persona del gran Maestre
tan dichosa y valerosa, como por ver la grandissima disformidad y
llaneza de nuestras baterias." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 121.

[1380] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 39.

[1381] "Al entrar del qual despues que la Real capitana uvo puesto sus
estandartes los pusieron todas las demas, y muy ricos, la Real traya
enla flama un crucifixo muy devoto." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol.
122.

[1382] "Fueronse para Palacio, adonde dio el gran Maestre a todos muy
realmente de cenar, porque ya el governador del Gozo le avia embiado
muchos refrescos, y don Garcia y todos los capitanes del armada le
presentaron de la misma manera." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1383] Balbi expresses his satisfaction at the good cheer, declaring
that the dainties brought by the viceroy, however costly, seemed cheap
to men who had been paying two ducats for a fowl, and a real and a half
for an egg. Ibid., ubi supra.

[1384] Herrera, Historia General, vol. I. p. 592.

[1385] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 38.

[1386] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 121.--De Thou reduces the
mortality to twenty thousand. (Hist. Universelle, tom. V. p. 592.)
Herrera, on the other hand, raises it to forty thousand. (Historia
General, tom. I. p. 90.) The whole Moslem force, according to Balbi, was
forty-eight thousand, exclusive of seamen. Of these about thirty
thousand were Turks. The remainder belonged to the contingents furnished
by Dragut and Hassem. Conf., fol. 25 and 121.

[1387] Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 128.--Balbi gives a list of all
the knights who perished in the siege. Cabrera makes a similar estimate
of the Christian loss. (Filipe Segundo, lib. VI. cap. 28.) De Thou rates
it somewhat lower (Hist. Universelle, tom. V. p. 90); and Vertot lower
still. (Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 38.) Yet Balbi may be thought to
show too little disposition, on other occasions, to exaggerate the loss
of his own side for us to suspect him of exaggeration here.

[1388] "En todo este sitio no se a justiciado sino un solo Italiano
Senes el qual mando justiciar Melchior de Robles: porque dixo
publicamente estando en el mayor aprieto, que mas valiera que tomaramos
las quatro pagas que los turcos nos ofrecian, y el passage." Balbi,
Verdadera Relacion, fol. 128.

[1389] For this act of retributive justice, so agreeable to the feelings
of the reader, I have no other authority to give than Vertot, Knights of
Malta, vol. III. p. 18.

[1390] Ibid., pp. 39, 40.--Calderon, Gloriosa Defensa de Malta, pp. 189,
190.--De Thou, Hist. Universelle, tom. V. p. 91.

[1391] "Havia en la Isla de Malta quinze mil hombres de pelea, los
quales bastaran para resistir a qualquiera poder del gran Turco en
campaña rasa." Balbi, Verdadera Relacion, fol. 129.

Besides the Spanish forces, a body of French adventurers took service
under La Valette, and remained for some time in Malta.

[1392] Vertot tells us that the projected expedition of Solyman against
Malta was prevented by the destruction of the grand arsenal of
Constantinople, which was set on fire by a secret emissary of La
Valette. (Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 41.) We should be better
pleased if the abbé had given his authority for this strange story, the
probability of which is not at all strengthened by what we know of the
grand-master's character.

[1393] It was common for the Maltese cities, after the Spanish and
Italian fashion, to have characteristic epithets attached to their
names. La Valette gave the new capital the title of "_Umillima_,"--"most
humble,"--intimating that humility was a virtue of highest price with
the fraternity of St. John. See Boisgelin, Ancient and Modern Malta,
vol. I. p. 29.

[1394] "Plus de huit mille ouvriers y furent employés; et afin d'avancer
plus aisément les travaux, le Pape Pie V. commanda qu'on y travaillât
sans discontinuer, même les jours de Fêtes." Helyot, Hist. des Ordres
Religieux.

[1395] The style of the architecture of the new capital seems to have
been, to some extent, formed on that of Rhodes, though, according to
Lord Carlisle, of a more ornate and luxuriant character than its model.
"I traced much of the military architecture of Rhodes, which, grave and
severe there, has here both swelled into great amplitude and blossomed
into copious efflorescence; it is much the same relation as Henry VII.'s
Chapel bears to a bit of Durham Cathedral." Diary in Turkish and Greek
Waters, p. 200.

The account of Malta is not the least attractive portion of this
charming work, to which Felton's notes have given additional value.

[1396] Vertot, Knights of Malta, vol. III. p. 42.

[1397] Ibid., pp. 42-48.--Boisgelin, Ancient and Modern Malta, vol. I.
pp. 127-142.

[1398] An interesting description of this cathedral, well styled the
Westminster Abbey of Malta, may be found in Bigelow's Travels in Sicily
and Malta (p. 190),--a work full of instruction, in which the writer,
allowing himself a wider range than that of the fashionable tourist,
takes a comprehensive survey of the resources of the countries he has
visited, while he criticizes their present condition by an enlightened
comparison with the past.

[1399] "Lorsqu'on commence l'Evangile, le Grand-Maître la prend des
mains du Page et la tient tonte droite pendant le tems de l'Evangile.
C'est la seule occasion où l'on tient l'épée nue à l'Eglise." Helyot,
Hist. des Ordres Religieux, tom. III. p. 93.

[1400] Boisgelin, Ancient and Modern Malta, vol. I. p. 35.

The good knight dwells with complacency on the particulars of a ceremony
in which he had often borne a part himself. It recalled to his mind the
glorious days of an order, which he fondly hoped might one day be
restored to its primitive lustre.

[1401] Alfieri, Schiller, and, in our day, Lord John Russell, have, each
according to his own conceptions, exhibited the poetic aspect of the
story to the eyes of their countrymen. The Castilian dramatist,
Montalvan, in his "Príncipe Don Carlos," written before the middle of
the seventeenth century, shows more deference to historic accuracy, as
well as to the reputation of Isabella, by not mixing her up in any way
with the fortunes of the prince of Asturias.

[1402] This correspondence is printed in a curious volume, of the
greatest rarity, entitled, Elogios de Don Honorato Juan, (Valencia,
1659,) p. 60 et seq.

[1403] "Egli in collera reiterò con maraviglia et riso di S. M. et
de'circumstanti, che mai egli non saria fuggito." Relatione di Badoaro,
MS.

[1404] "Reprehendio al Principe su nieto su poca mesura i mucha
desenboltura con que vivia i trataba con su tia, i encomendòla su
correcion, diziendo era en lo [~q] mas podia obligar a todos." Cabrera,
Filipe Segundo, lib. II. cap. 11.

[1405] "Ne attende ad altro che a leggirli gli officii di M. Tullio per
acquetare quei troppo ardenti desiderii." Relatione di Badoaro, MS.

[1406] "En lo del estudio esta poco aprovechado, porque lo haze de mala
gana y ausy mesmo los otros exercicios de jugar y esgremyr, que para
todo es menester premya." Carta de García de Toledo al Emperador, 27 de
Agosto, 1557, MS.

[1407] "Hasta agora no se que los medicos ayan tratado de dar ninguna
cosa al principe para la colera, ny yo lo consintiera hazer, sin dar
primero quenta dello a vuestra magestad." Ibid.

[1408] "Deseo mucho que V. M. fuese servido que el principe diese una
buelta por allá para velle por que entendidos los impedimentos que en su
edad tiene mandasse V. M. lo que fuera de la horden con que yo le sirvo
se deba mudar." Del mismo al mismo, 13 de Abril, 1558, MS.

[1409] So cruel, according to the court gossip picked up by Badoaro,
that, when hares and other game were brought to him, he would
occasionally amuse himself by roasting them alive!---"Dimostra havere un
animo fiero, et tra gli effetti che si raccontana uno è, che alle volte,
che dalla caccia gli viene portato o lepre o simile animale, si diletta
di vedirli arrostire vivi." Relatione de Badoaro, MS.

[1410] "Da segno di dovere essere superbissimo, perchè non poteva
sofferire di stare lungamente nè innanzi al padre nè avo con la berretta
in mano, et chiama il padre fratello, et l'avo padre." Ibid.

[1411] "Dice a tutti i propositi tante cose argute che 'l suo ministro
ne raccolse un libretto." Ibid.

Another contemporary also notices the precocious talents of the boy, as
shown in his smart sayings.--"Dexo de contar las gracias que tiene en
dichos maravillosos que andan por boca de todos desparzidos, dexo de
contar lo que haze para provar lo que dize." Cordero, Promptuario de
Medallas, ap. Castro, Historia de los Protestantes Españoles, p. 328.

[1412] "Le pauvre prince est si bas et exténué, il va d'heure a heure
tant affoiblissant, que les plus sages de ceste court en ont bien petite
espérance." L'Evêque de Limoges au Roi, 1^er Mars, 1559, ap.
Négociations relatives an Règne de François II., p. 291.

[1413] "Delante de la Princesa venia don Carlos a su juramento con mal
calor de quartanaria en un cavallo blanco con rico guarnimiento i
gualdrapa de oro i plata bordado sobre tela de oro parda, como el
vestido galan con muchos botones de perlas i diamantes." Cabrera, Filipe
Segundo, lib. V. cap. 7.

[1414] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1415] Strada, in a parallel which he has drawn of the royal youths,
gives the palm to Don John of Austria. His portrait of Carlos is as
little flattering in regard to his person as to his
character.--"Carolus, præter colorem et capillum, ceterùm corpore
mendosus; quippe humero clatior, et tibia alterâ longior erat; nee minus
dehonestamentum ab indole feroci et contumaci." De Bello Belgico, tom.
I. p. 609.

[1416] "Este dia despues de haber comido queriendo Su Alteza bajar por
una escalera escura y de ruines pasos echó el pie derecho en vacio, y
dió una vuelta sobre todo el cuerpo, y así cayó de cuatro ó cinco
escalones. Dió con la cabeza un gran golpe en una puerta cerrada, y
quedó la cabeza abajo y los pies arriba." Relacion de la enfermedad del
Príncipe por el Doctor Olivares, Documentos Inéditos, tom. XV. p. 554.

[1417] According to Guibert, the French ambassador, Carlos was engaged
in a love adventure when he met with his fall,--having descended this
dark stairway in search of the young daughter of the porter of the
garden. See Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 119.

[1418] Ferreras, Hist. de l'Espagne, tom. IX. p. 429.

[1419] Dr. Olivares bears emphatic testimony to this virtue, little to
have been expected in his patient.--"Lo que á su salud cumplia hizo de
la misma suerte, siendo tan obediente á los remedios que á todos
espantaba que por fuertes y recios que fuesen nunca los reusó, antes
todo el tiempo que estuvo en su acuerdo él mismo los pedia, lo cual fué
grande ayuda para la salud que Dios le dió." Documentos Inéditos, tom.
XV. p. 571.

[1420] Another rival appeared, to contest the credit of the cure with
the bones of Fray Diego. This was Our Lady of Atocha, the patroness of
Madrid, whose image, held in the greatest veneration by Philip the
Second, was brought to the chamber of Carlos, soon after the skeleton of
the holy friar. As it was after the patient had decidedly begun to mend,
there seems to be the less reason for the chroniclers of Our Lady of
Atocha maintaining, as they sturdily do, her share in the cure. (Perada,
La Madona de Madrid, (Valladolid, 1604,) p. 151.) The veneration for the
patroness of Madrid has continued to the present day. A late journal of
that capital states that the queen, accompanied by her august consort
and the princess of Asturias, went, on the twenty-fourth of March, 1854,
in solemn procession to the church, to decorate the image with the
collar of the Golden Fleece.

[1421] "Con todo eso tomando propriamente el nombre de milagro, á mi
juicio no lo fué, porque el Príncipe se curó con los remedios naturales
y ordinarios, con los cuales se suelen curar otros de la misma
enfermedad estando tanto y mas peligrosos." Documentos Inéditos, tom.
XV. p. 570.

[1422] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 132.

[1423] "Il aymoit fort à ribler le pavé, et faire à coups d'espée, fust
de jour, fust de nuit, car il avoit avec luy dix ou douze enfans
d'honneur des plus grandes maisons d'Espagne.... Quand il alloit par les
ruës quelque belle dame, et fust elle des plus grandes du pays, il la
prenoit et la baisoit par force devant tout le monde; il l'appelloit
putain, bagasse, chienne, et force autres injures leur disoit-il."
Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 323.

[1424] "Dió un bofeton a Don Pedro Manuel, i guisadas i picadas en
menudas pieças hizo comer las votas al menestral." Cabrera, Filipe
Segundo, lib. VII. cap. 22.

De Foix, a French architect employed on the Escorial at this time,
informed the historian De Thou of the prince's habit of wearing
extremely large leggings, or boots, for the purpose mentioned in the
text. "Nam et scloppetulos binos summa arte fabricatos caligis, quæ
amplissimæ de more gentis in usu sunt, eum gestare solitum resciverat."
(Historiæ sui Temporis, lib. XLI.) I cite the original Latin, as the
word _caligæ_ has been wrongly rendered by the French translator into
_culottes_.

[1425] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VII. cap. 22.

[1426] "Curilla vos os atreveis a mi, no dexando venir a servirme
Cisneros? por vida de mi padre que os tengo de matar" Ibid., ubi supra.

[1427] "Il qual Niccolo lo fece subito et co'parole di Complimento rende
gratie à sua Altezza, offerendoli sempre tutto quel che per lui si
poteva." Lettera di Nobili, Ambasciatore del Granduca di Toscagna al Re
Philippo, 24 di Luglio, 1567, MS.

[1428] "Ci si messe di mezzo Ruigomes et molti altri nè si è mai possuto
quietar'fin tanto che Niccolo no'li ha prestato sessantamila scudi
co'sua polizza senza altro assegniamento." Ibid.

[1429] "Mostra di esser molto religioso solicitando come fa le prediche
et divini officii, anzi in questo si può dir che eccede l'honesto, et
suol dire, Chi debbe far Elemosine, se non la danno i Prencipi?"
Relatione di Tiepolo, MS.

[1430] "È splendetissimo in tutte le cose et massime nel beneficiar chi
lo serve. Il che fa così largamente che necessita ad amarlo anco i
servitori del Padre." Ibid.

[1431] "È curioso nel intendere i negozii del stato, ne i quali
s'intrometterebbe volontieri, et procura di saper quello che tratta il
Padre, et che egli asconde gli fa grande offesa." Ibid.

Granvelle, in one of his letters, notices with approbation this trait in
the character of Carlos. "Many are pleased with the prince, others not.
I think him modest, and inclined to employ himself, which, for the heir
of such large dominions, is in the highest degree necessary." Raumer,
Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 128.

[1432] "Mi mayor amigo que tengo en esta vida, que harè lo que vos me
pidieredes." Elogios de Honorato Juan, p. 66.

The last words, it is true, may be considered as little more than a
Castilian form of epistolary courtesy.

[1433] "Su Alteza añada, y quite todo lo que le pareciere de mi
testamento, y este mi Codicilo, que aquello que su Alteza mandare lo
doy, y quiero que sea tan valido como si estuviesse expressado en este
mi Codicilo, o en el testamento." Ibid., p. 73.

[1434] "Così come sono allegri i Spagnuoli d'haver per loro Sig^re un Rè
naturale così stanno molto in dubio qual debbe esser il suo governo."
Relatione di Tiepolo, MS.

[1435] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 132.

[1436] Herrera, Historia General, tom. I. p. 680.

[1437] Raumer (Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 153), who
cites a manuscript letter of Antonio Perez to the councillor Du Vaire,
extant in the Royal Library of Paris. A passage in a letter to Carlos
from his almoner, Doctor Hernan Suarez de Toledo, has been interpreted
as alluding to his intercourse with the deputies from Flanders: "Tambien
he llorado, no haber parecido bien que V. A. _hablase a los
procuradores_, como dicen que lo hizo, no se lo que fue, pero si que
cumple mucho hacer los hombres sus negocios propios, con consejo ageno,
por que los muy diestros nunca fian del suyo." The letter, which is
without date, is to be found in the archiepiscopal library of Toledo.

[1438] De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 376.

[1439] "È principe," writes the nuncio, "che quello, che ha in cuore, ha
in bocca." Lettera del Nunzio al Cardinale Alessandrini, Giugno, 1566,
MS.

[1440] "Que eran de grandisimo engaño, y error peligrosisimo, inventado
y buscado todo por el demonio, para dar travajo a V. A. y pensar darle á
todos, y para desasogear, y aun inquietar la grandeza de la monarquia."
Carta de Hernan Suarez al Príncipe, MS.

[1441] The intimate relations of Doctor Suarez with Carlos exposed him
to suspicions in regard to his loyalty or his orthodoxy,--we are not
told which,--that might have cost him his life, had not this letter,
found among the prince's papers after his death, proved a sufficient
voucher for the doctor's innocence. Soto, Anotaciones a la Historia de
Talabera, MS.

[1442] Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VII. cap. 13.--Strada, De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 376.--Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austria, (Madrid,
1627,) fol. 37.

[1443] Letter of Fourquevaulx, January 19, 1568 ap. Raumer, Sixteenth
and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 85.

[1444] "Avia muchos dias, que el Príncipe mi Señor andaba inquieto sin
poder sosegar, y decia, que avia de matar á un hombre con quien estaba
mal, y de este dió parte al Señor Don Juan, pero sin declararle quien
fuese." De la Prision y Muerte del Príncipe Don Carlos, MS.

[1445] "Pero el Prior le engaño, con persuadirle dixese cual fuese el
hombre, por que seria possible poder dispensar conforme à la
satisfaccion, que S. A. pudiese tomar, y entonces dixo, que era el Rey
su Padre con quien estaba mál, y le havia de matar." Ibid.

[1446] Ibid.

[1447] "Ya avia llegado de Sevilla Garci Alvarez Osorio con ciento y
cincuenta mil escudos de los seiscientos mil que le avia embiado a
buscar y proveer: y que assi se apercibiesse para partir en la noche
siguiente pues la resta le remitirian en polizas en saliendo de la
Corte." Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austria, fol. 40.

[1448] Ibid., ubi supra.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VII. cap. 22.

[1449] "Sono molti giorni che stando il Ré fuori comandò segretamente
che si facesse fare orationi in alcuni monasterii, acciò nostro Signore
Dio indrizzasse bene et felicemente un grand negotio, che si li
offeriva. Questo è costume di questo Prencipe veramente molto religioso,
quando li occorre qualche cosa da esseguire, che sia importante."
Lettera del Nunzio, 24 di Gennaio, 1568, MS.

[1450] "On the next day, when I was present at the audience, he appeared
with as good a countenance as usual, although he was already determined
in the same night to lay hands on his son, and no longer to put up with
or conceal his follies and more than youthful extravagances." Letter of
Fourquevaulx, February 5, 1568, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth
Centuries, vol. I. p. 138.

[1451] Ibid., ubi supra.--Relacion del Ayuda de Camara, MS.

[1452] Relacion del Ayuda de Camara, MS.--Lettera di Nobili, Gennaio 21,
1568, MS.

De Thou, taking his account from the architect Louis de Foix, has
provided Carlos with still more formidable means of defence. "Ce Prince
inquiet ne dormoit point, qu'il n'eût sous son chevet deux épées nues et
deux pistolets chargez. Il avoit encore dans sa garderobe deux
arquebuses avec de la poudre et des balles, toujours prêtes à tirer."
Hist. Universelle, tom. V. p. 439.

[1453] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1454] "Così S. Mta fece levare tutte l'armi, et tutti i ferri sino à
gli alari di quella camera, et conficcare le finestre." Lettera di
Nobili, Gennaio 21, 1568, MS.

[1455] "Aquí alço el principe grandes bozes diziendo, mateme Vra Md y no
me prenda porque es grande escandalo para el reyno y sino yo me mataré,
al qual respondio el rey que no lo hiciere que era cosa de loco, y el
principe respondio no lo hare como loco sino como desesperado pues Vra
Md me trata tan mal." Relacion del Ayuda de Camara, MS.

[1456] "Erasi di già tornato nel letto il Principe usando molte parole
fuor di proposito: le quali non furno asverttite come dette quasi
singhiozzando." Lettera di Nobili, Gennaio 25, 1568, MS.

[1457] "Y á cada uno de por sí con lagrimas (segun me ha certificado
quien lo vió) les daba cuenta de la prission del Príncipe su hijo."
Relacion del Ayuda de Camara, MS.

[1458] "Martes veinte de Enero de 1568, llamó S. M. á su cámara á los de
el Consejo de Estado, y estubieron en ella desde la una de la tarde asta
las nueve de la noche, no se sabe que se tratase, el Rey hace
informacion, Secretario de ella és Oyos, hallase el Rey pressente al
examen de los testigos, ay escripto casi un feme en alto." Ibid.

I have two copies of this interesting MS., one from Madrid, the other
from the library of Sir Thomas Phillips. Llorente's translation of the
entire document, in his Histoire de l'Inquisition, (tom. III. pp.
151-158,) cannot claim the merit of scrupulous accuracy.

[1459] "Unos le llamaban prudente, otros severo, porque su risa i
cuchillo eran confines." Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VII. cap. 22.

These remarkable words seem to escape from Cabrera, as if he were
noticing only an ordinary trait of character.

[1460] "Mirabanse los mas cuerdos sellando la boca con el dedo i el
silencio." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1461] "In questo mezo è prohibito di mandar corriero nessuno, volendo
essere Sus Maestà il primo á dar alli Prencipi quest'aviso." Lettera del
Nunzio, Gennaio 21, 1568, MS.

[1462] "En fin yo he querido hacer en esta parte sacrificio à Dios de mi
propia carne y sangre y preferir su servicio y el bien y beneficio
público á las otras consideraciones humanas." Traslado de la Carta que
su magestad escrivió à la Reyna de Portugal sobre le prision del
Principe su hijo, 20 de Enero, 1568, MS.

[1463] "Solo me ha parecido ahora advertir que el fundamento de esta mi
determinacion no depende de culpa, ni inovediencia, ni desacato, ni es
enderezada à castigo, que aunque para este havia la muy suficiente
materia, pudiera tener su tiempo y su termino." Ibid.

[1464] "Ni tampoco lo he tomado por medio, teniendo esperanza que por
este camino se reformarán sus excesos y desordenes. Tiene este negocio
otro principio y razon, cuyo remedio no consiste en tiempo, ni medios; y
que es de mayor importancia y consideracion para satisfacer yo á la
dicha obligacion que tengo á Dios nuestro señor y á los dichos mis
Reynos." Ibid.

[1465] "Pues aunque es verdad que en el discurso de su vida y trato haya
habido ocasion de alguna desobediencia ó desacato que pudieran
justificar qualquiera demostracion, esto no me obligaría á llegar á tan
estrecho punto. La necesidad y conveniencia han producido las causas que
me han movido muy urgentes y precisas con mi hijo primogenito y solo."
Carta del Rey á su Embajador en Roma, 22 de Enero, 1568, MS.

[1466] Letter of Fourquevaulx, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth
Centuries vol. I. p. 136.

[1467] "Querria el Papa saber por carta de V. M. la verdad." Carta de
Zuñiga al Rey, 28 de Abril, 1568, MS.

[1468] Lorea, Vida de Pio Quinto, (Valladolid, 1713,) p. 131.

[1469] In the Archives of Simancas is a department known as the
_Patronato_, or family papers, consisting of very curious documents, of
so private a nature as to render them particularly difficult of access.
In this department is deposited the correspondence of Zuñiga, which,
with other documents in the same collection, has furnished me with some
pertinent extracts.

[1470] "Estan en el archivo de Simancas, donde en el año mil i
quinientos i noventa i dos los metio don Cristoval de Mora de su Camara
en un cofrecillo verde en que se conservan," Cabrera, Filipe Segundo,
lib. VII. cap. 22.

[1471] It is currently reported, as I am informed, among the scholars of
Madrid, that in 1828, Ferdinand the Seventh caused the papers containing
the original process of Carlos, with some other documents, to be taken
from Simancas; but whither they were removed is not known. Nor since
that monarch's death have any tidings been heard of them.

[1472] "Rispose che questo saria el manco, perchè se non fosse stato
altro pericolo che della persona del Rè si saria guardata, et rimediato
altramente, ma che ci era peggio, si peggio può essere, al che sua
Maestà ha cercato per ogni via di rimediare due anni continui, perchè
vedeva pigliarli la mala via, ma non ha mai potuto fermare ne regolare
questo cervello, fin che è bisognato arrivare a questo." Lettera del
Nunzio, Gennaio 24, 1568, MS.

[1473] "Non lascerò però di dirle, ch'io ho ritratto et di luogo
ragionevole, che si sospetta del Prencipe di poco Cattolico: et quello,
che lo fà credere, è che fin'adesso non li han fatto dir messa." Lettera
di Nobili, Gennaio 25, 1698, MS.

[1474] "El Papa alaba mucho la determinacion de V. M. porque entiende
que la conservacion de la Christianidad depende de que Dios de à V. M.
muchos años de vida y qu edespues tenga tal sucesor que sepa seguir sus
pisadas." Carta de Zuñiga, Junio 25, 1568, MS.

[1475] Leti has been more fortunate in discovering a letter from Don
Carlos to Count Egmont, found among the papers of that nobleman at the
time of his arrest. (Vita di Filippo II. tom. I. p. 543.) The historian
is too discreet to vouch for the authenticity of the document, which
indeed would require a better voucher than Leti to obtain our
confidence.

[1476] De Castro labors hard to prove that Don Carlos was a Protestant.
If he fails to establish the fact, he must be allowed to have shown that
the prince's conduct was such as to suggest great doubts of his
orthodoxy, among those who approached the nearest to him. See Historia
de los Protestantes Españoles, p. 319 et seq.

[1477] "Sua Maestà ha dato ordine, che nelle lettere, che si scrivono a
tutti li Prencipi et Regni, si dica, che la voce ch'è uscita ch 'l
Prencipe havesse cercato di offendere la Real persona sua propria è
falsa, et questo medesimo fa dire a bocea da Ruy Gomez
all'Imbasciatori." Lettera del Nunzio Gennaio 27, 1568, MS.

[1478] "Si tien per fermo che privaranno il Prencipe della successione,
et non lo liberaranno mai." Lettera del Nunzio, Febraio 14, 1568, MS.

[1479] "Para rezarse le diesen las Oras, Breviario i Rosario que
pidiese, i libros solamente de buena dotrina i devocion, si quisiese
leer y oir." Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, b. VII. cap. 22.

[1480] The _montero_ was one of the body-guard of the king for the
night. The right of filling this corps was an ancient privilege accorded
to the inhabitants of a certain district named Espinosa de los Monteros.
Llorente, Histoire de l'Inquisition, tom. III. p. 163.

[1481] The regulations are given _in extenso_ by Cabrera, (Filipe
Segundo, lib. VII. cap. 22,) and the rigor with which they were enforced
is attested by the concurrent reports of the foreign ministers at the
court. In one respect, however, they seem to have been relaxed, if, as
Nobili states, the prince was allowed to recreate himself with the
perusal of Spanish law-books, which he may have consulted with reference
to his own case. "Hà domandato, che li siano letti li statuti, et le
leggi di Spagna: ne'quali spende molto studio. Scrive assai di sua mano,
et subito scritto lo straccia." Lettera di Nobili, Giugno 8, 1568, MS.

[1482] "Per questa causa dunque il Rè et Regina vechia di quel regno
hanno mandato qui un ambasciatore a far offltio col Rè cattolico per il
Prencipe, dolersi del caso, offerirsi di venire la Regina propria a
governarlo como madre." Lettera del Nunzio, Marzo 2, 1568, MS.

[1483] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. II. p. 141.

[1484] Ibid., pp. 146-148.

[1485] "Reyna y Princesa lloran: Don Juan vá cada noche á Palacio, y una
fué muy llano, como de luto, y el Rey le riñió, y mandó no andubiesse de
aquel modo, sino como solia de antes." Relación del Ayuda de Cámara, MS.

[1486] "Sua Maestà ha fatto intendere a tutte le città del Reyno, che
non mandino huomini o imbasciator nessuno, ne per dolersi, ne per
cerimonia, ne per altro; et pare che habbia a caro, che nessuno glie ne
parli, et così ogn'huomo tace." Lettera del Nunzio, Febraio 14, 1568,
MS.

[1487] Letter of Fourquevaulx, April 13, 1568. ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries, vol. II. p. 143.

A letter of condolence from the municipality of Murcia was conceived in
such a loyal and politic vein as was altogether unexceptionable. "We
cannot reflect," it says, "without emotion, on our good fortune in
having a sovereign so just, and so devoted to the weal of his subjects,
as to sacrifice to this every other consideration, even the tender
attachment which he has for his own offspring." This, which might seem
irony to some, was received by the king, as it was doubtless intended,
in perfect good faith. His indorsement, in his own handwriting, on the
cover, shows the style in which he liked to be approached by his loving
subjects. "This letter is written with prudence and discretion."--A
translation of the letter, dated February 16, 1568, is in Llorente,
Histoire de l'Inquisition, tom. III. p. 161.

[1488] Letter of Fourquevaulx, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth
Centuries.

[1489] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1490] "Quella per il Rè conteneva specificatamente molti agravii, che
in molti anni pretendi, che li siano statti fatti da Sua Maestà, et
diceva ch'egli se n'andava fuori delli suoi Regni per no poter
sopportare tanti agravii, che li faceva." Lettera del Nunzio, Marzo 2,
1568, MS.

[1491] Ibid.

[1492] "Vi è ancora una lista, dove scriveva di sua mano gli amici, et
li nemici suoi, li quali diceva hi havere a perseguitare sempre fino
alla morte, tra li quali il primo era scritto il Rè suo padre, di poi
Rui Gomez et la moglie, il Presidente, il Duca d'Alba, et certi altri."
Lettera del Nunzio, Marzo 2, 1568, MS.

[1493] "No salio el Rey de Madrid, ni aun a Aranjuez, ni a San Lorenço a
ver su fabrica, tan atento al negocio del Principe estaba, i sospechoso
a las murmuraciones de sus pueblos fieles i reverentes, que ruidos
estraordinarios en su Palacio le hazian mirar, si eran tumultos para
sacar a su Alteza de su camara." Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VIII.
cap. 5.

[1494] "Onde fù chiamato il confessore et il medico, ma egli seguitando
nella sua disperatione non volse ascoltare nè l'unno nè l'altro."
Lettera del Nunzio, MS.

My copy of this letter, perhaps through the inadvertence of the
transcriber, is without date.

[1495] "Ne volendo in alcun modo curare nè il corpo nè l'anima, la quai
cosa faceva stare il Rè et gli altri con molto dispiacere, vedendoli
massima di continuo crescere il male, et mancar la virtù." Ibid.

[1496] "Vea V. A. que harán y dirán todos quando se entienda que no se
confiesa, y se vayan descubriendo otras cosas terribles, que le son
tanto, que llegan á que el Santo Oficio tuviera mucha entrada en otro
para saber si era cristiano ó no." Carta de Hernán Suarez de Toledo al
Príncipe, Marzo 18, 1568, MS.

[1497] "Spogliarsi nudo, et solo con una robba di taffetà su le carni
star quasi di continuo ad una finestra, dove tirava vento, caminare con
li piedi discalzi per la camara que tuttavia faceva stare adacquata
tanto che sempre ci era l'acqua per tutto." Lettera del Nunzio, MS.

[1498] "Farsi raffredare ogni notte due o tre volti il letto con uno
scaldaletto pieno di neve, et tenerlo le notte intiere nel letto." Ibid.

[1499] Three days, according to one authority. (Lettera di Nobili di 30
di Luglio, 1568, MS.) Another swells the number to nine days (Carta de
Gomez Manrique, MS.); and a third--one of Philip's cabinet
ministers--has the assurance to prolong the prince's fast to eleven
days, in which he allows him, however, an unlimited quantity of cold
water. "Ansi se determinó de no comer y en esta determinacion passaron
onze dias sin que bastasen persuasiones ni otras diligencias á que
tomase cosa bevida ni que fuese para salud sino aqua fria." Carta de
Francisco de Erasso, MS.

[1500] "Doppo essere stato tre giorni senza mangiare molto fantastico et
bizzaro mangiò un pasticcio fredolo di quatri perdici con tutta la
pasta: et il medesimo giorno bevve trecento once d'aqqua fredda."
Lettera di Nobili, Luglio 30 1568, MS.

Yet Carlos might have found warrant for his proceedings, in regard to
the use of snow and iced water, in the prescriptions of more than one
doctor of his time. De Castro--who displays much ingenuity, and a
careful study of authorities, in his discussion of this portion of
Philip's history--quotes the writings of two of these worthies, one of
whom tells us, that the use of snow had increased to such an extent,
that not only was it recommended to patients in their drink, but also to
cool their sheets; and he forthwith prescribes a warming-pan, to be used
in the same way as it was by Carlos. Historia de los Protestantes
Españoles, p. 370.

[1501] "Visitabale el Doctor Olivares Protomedico i salia a consultar
con sus conpañeros en presencia de Rui Gomez de Silva la curacion, curso
i accidentes de la enfermedad." Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VII. cap.
22.

[1502] "Mostrando molta contritione, et se bene si lassava curare il
corpo per non causarsi egli stesso la morte, mostrava pero tanto
disprezzo delle cose del mondo, et tanto desiderio delle celesti; che
pareva veramente che Nostro Signore Dio gli havesse riserbato il cumulo
di tutti le gratie à quel ponto." Lettera del Nunzio, MS.

[1503] "Tanto hanno da durare le mie miserie." Ibid.

[1504] "And so," says Cabrera, somewhat bluntly, "the king withdrew to
his apartment with more sorrow in his heart, and less care."--"Algunas
oras antes de su fallecimiento, por entre los onbros del Prior don
Antonio i de Rui Gomez le echò su benedicion, i se recogiò en su camara
cō mas dolor i menos cuidado." Filipe Segundo, lib. VIII. cap. 5.

[1505] "Il Rè non l'ha visitato, ne lassato che la Regina ne la
Principessa lo veggiano, forse considerando che poi che già si conosceva
disperato il caso suo, queste visite simili poterono più presto
conturbare l'una at l'altra delle parti, che aiutarli in cosa nessuna."
Lettera del Nunzio, MS.

[1506] "Il Prencipe di Spagna avante la morte diceva, che perdoneva a
tutti, et nominatamenta al Padre, che l'haveva carcerato, et a Ruy
Gomez, cardinal Presidente Dottor Velasco, et altri, per lo consiglio
de'quali credeva essere stato preso." Lettera del Nunzio, Luglio 28,
1568, MS.

[1507] "Et battendosi il petto come poteva, essendoli mancata la virtù a
poco a poco, ritirandosi la vita quasi da membro in membro espirò con
molta tranquilità et constanza." Lettera del Nunzio, MS.

[1508] "Et testificono quelli, che vi si trovorno che Christiano nessuno
può morir più cattolicamente, ne in maggior sentimento di lui." Lettera
di Nobili, Luglio 30, 1568, MS.

[1509] See, among others, Quintana, Historia de la Antigüedad Nobleza y
Grandeza de la Villa y Corte de Madrid, (1629,) fol. 368; Colmenares,
Historia de la Insigne Ciudad de Segovia, (Madrid, 1640,) cap. 43;
Pinelo, Anales de Madrid, MS.; Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VIII. cap.
5; Herrera, Historia General, lib. XV. cap. 3; Carta de Francisco de
Erasso, MS.; Carta de Gomez Manrique, MS.

[1510] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 147.

Von Raumer has devoted some fifty pages of his fragmentary compilation
to the story of Don Carlos, and more especially to the closing scenes of
his life. The sources are of the most unexceptionable kind, being
chiefly the correspondence of the French ministers with their court,
existing among the MSS. in the Royal Library at Paris. The selections
made are pertinent in their character, and will be found of the greatest
importance to illustrate this dark passage in the history of the time.
If I have not arrived at the same conclusions in all respects as those
of the illustrious German scholar, it may be that my judgment has been
modified by the wider range of materials at my command.

[1511] Llorente, Histoire de l'Inquisition, tom. III. p. 171 et seq.

[1512] "Quoique ces documens ne soient pas authentiques, ils méritent
qu'on y ajoute foi, en ce qu'ils sont de certaines personnes employées
dans le palais du roi." Ibid., p. 171.

[1513] Thus, for example, he makes the contradictory statements, at the
distance of four pages from each other, that the prince did, and that he
did not, confide to Don John his desire to kill his father (pp. 148,
152). The fact is, that Llorente in a manner pledged himself to solve
the mystery of the prince's death, by announcing to his readers, at the
outset, that "he believed he had discovered the truth." One fact he must
be allowed to have established,--one which, as secretary to the
Inquisition, he had the means of verifying,--namely, that no process was
ever instituted against Carlos by the Holy Office. This was to overturn
a vulgar error, on which more than one writer of fiction has built his
story.

[1514] "Le cicalerie, et novellacce, che si dicono, sono molto indigne
d'essere ascoltate, non che scritte, perchè in vero il satisfar al
popolaccio in queste simil cose è molto difficile; et meglio è farle,
siccome porta il giusto et l'honesto senza curarsi del giudicio
d'huomini insani, et che parlono senza ragione di cose impertinenti et
impossibili di autori incerti, dappochi, et maligni." Lettera di Nobili,
Luglio 30 1568, MS.

[1515] Letter of Antonio Perez to the counsellor Du Vair, ap. Rauner,
Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 153.

[1516] "Mais afin de sauver l'honneur du sang royal, l'arrêt fut exécuté
en secret et on lui fit avaler un bouillon empoisoné, dont il mourut
quelques heures après, au commencement de sa vingt-troisième année." De
Thou, Histoire Universelle, tom. V. p. 436.

[1517] "Mas es peligroso manejar vidrios, i dar ocasion da tragedias
famosas, acaecimientos notables, violentas muertes por los secretos
executores Reales no sabidas, i por inesperadas terribles, i por la
estrañeza i rigor de justicia, despues de largas advertencias a los que
no cuidando dellas incurrieron en crimen de lesa Magestad." Cabrera,
Filipe Segundo, lib. VII. cap. 22.

The admirable obscurity of the passage, in which the historian has
perfectly succeeded in mystifying his critics, has naturally led them to
suppose that more was meant by him than meets the eye.

[1518] "Ex morbo ob alimenta partim obstinate recusata, partira
intemperanter adgesta, nimiamque nivium refrigerationem, super animi
aigritudinem (_si modò vis abfuit_), in Divi Jacobi pervigilio extinctus
est." Strada, De Bello Belgico, tom. I. p. 378.

[1519] Apologie, ap. Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. V. par. i. p. 389.

[1520] "Parquoy le roi conclud sur ses raisons que le meilleur estoit de
le faire mourir; dont un matin on le trouva en prison estouffé d'un
linge." Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. I. p. 320.

A taste for jesting on this subject seems to have been still in fashion
at the French court as late as Louis the Fourteenth's time. At least, we
find that monarch telling some one that "he had sent Bussy Rabutin to
the Bastile for his own benefit, as Philip the Second said when he
ordered his son to be strangled." Lettres de Madame de Sevigné, (Paris,
1822.) tom. VIII. p. 368.

[1521] A French contemporary chronicler dismisses his account of the
death of Carlos with the remark, that, of all the passages in the
history of this reign, the fate of the young prince is the one involved
in the most impenetrable mystery. Matthieu, Breve Compendio de la Vida
Privada de Felipe Segundo, (Span, trans.,) MS.

[1522] The Abbé San Real finds himself unable to decide whether Carlos
took poison, or, like Seneca, had his veins opened in a warm bath, or,
finally, whether he was strangled with a silk cord by four slaves sent
by his father to do the deed, in Oriental fashion. (Verdadera Historia
de la Vida y Muerte del Príncipe Don. Carlos, Span, trans., MS.) The
doubts of San Real are echoed with formal solemnity by Leti, Vita di
Flippo II., tom. I. p. 559.

[1523] Von Raumer, who has given an analysis of this letter of Antonio
Perez, treats it lightly, as coming from "a double-dealing, bitter enemy
of Philip," whose word on such a subject was of little value. (Sixteenth
and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 155.) It was certainly a singular
proof of confidence in one who was so habitually close in his concerns
as the prince of Eboli, that he should have made such a communication to
Perez. Yet it must be admitted that the narrative derives some
confirmation from the fact, that the preceding portions of the letter
containing it, in which the writer describes the arrest of Carlos,
conform with the authentic account of that event as given in the text.

It is worthy of notice, that both De Thou and Llorente concur with Perez
in alleging poison as the cause of the prince's death. Though even here
there is an important discrepancy; Perez asserting it was a slow poison,
taking four months to work its effect, while the other authorities say
that its operation was immediate. Their general agreement, moreover, in
regard to the employment of poison, is of the less weight, as such an
agency would be the one naturally surmised under circumstances where it
would be desirable to leave no trace of violence on the body of the
victim.

[1524] If we may take Brantôme's word, there was some ground for such
apprehension at all times. "En fin il estoit un terrible masle; et s'il
eust vescu, assurez-vous qu'il s'en fust faict aeroire, et qu'il eust
mis le pere en curatelle." Œuvres, tom. I. p. 323.

[1525] "Li più favoriti del Rè erono odiati da lui a morte, et adesso
tanto più, et quando questo venisse a regnare si teneriano rovinati
loro." Lettera del Nunzio, Febraio 14, 1568, MS.

[1526] Ante. p. 177.

It is in this view that Dr. Salazar de Mendoza does not shrink from
asserting, that, if Philip did make a sacrifice of his son, it rivalled
in sublimity that of Isaac by Abraham, and even that of Jesus Christ by
the Almighty! "Han dicho de él lo que del Padre Eterno, que no perdonó á
su propio Hijo. Lo que del Patriarca Abraham en el sacrificio de Isaac
su unigénito. A todo caso humano excede la gloria que de esto le
resulta, y no hay con quien comparalla." (Dignidades de Castilla y Leon,
p. 417.) He closes this rare piece of courtly blasphemy by assuring us
that in point of fact Carlos died a natural death. The doctor wrote in
the early part of Philip the Third's reign, when the manner of the
prince's death was delicate ground for the historian.

[1527] Philip the Second is not the only Spanish monarch who has been
charged with the murder of his son. Leovogild, a Visigothic king of the
sixth century, having taken prisoner his rebel son, threw him into a
dungeon, where he was secretly put to death. The king was an Arian,
while the young prince was a Catholic, and might have saved his life if
he had been content to abjure his religion. By the Church of Rome,
therefore, he was regarded as a martyr; and it is a curious circumstance
that it was Philip the Second who procured the canonization of the
slaughtered Hermenegild from Pope Sixtus the Fifth.

For the story, taken from that voluminous compilation of Florez, "_La
España Sagrada_," I am indebted to Milman's History of Latin
Christianity (London, 1854, vol. I. p. 446), one of the remarkable works
of the present age, in which the author reviews, with curious erudition,
and in a profoundly philosophical spirit, the various changes that have
taken place in the Roman hierarchy: and while he fully exposes the
manifold errors and corruptions of the system, he shows throughout that
enlightened charity which is the most precious of Christian graces, as
unhappily it is the rarest.

[1528] Lettera di Nobili, Luglio 30, 1568, MS.

[1529] I have before me another will made by Don Carlos in 1564, in
Alcalá de Henares, the original of which is still extant in the Archives
of Simancas. In one item of this document, he bequeathes five thousand
ducats to Don Martin de Cordova, for his gallant defence of Mazarquivir.

[1530] Lettera del Nunzio, Luglio 28, 1568, MS.--Quintana, Historia de
Madrid, fol. 369.

[1531] "Partieron con el cuerpo, aviendo el Rey con la entereza de animo
que mantuvo sienpre, conpuesto desde una ventana las diferencias de los
Consejos disposiendo la precedencia, cesando assi la competencia."
Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. VIII. cap. 5.

[1532] The particulars of the ceremony are given by the Nunzio, Lettera
di 28 di Luglio, MS.--See also Quintana, Historia de Madrid, fol. 369.

[1533] Pinelo, Anales de Madrid, MS.--Quintana, Historia de Madrid, fol.
369.--Lettera del Nunzio, Luglio 28, 1568, MS.--Cabrera, Filipe Segundo,
lib. VIII. cap. 5.

[1534] Carta del Rey á Zuñiga, Agosto 27, 1568, MS.

[1535] "Digo la missa el Cardenal Tarragona, asistiendo á las honras 21
cardenales idemas de los obispos y arzobispos." Aviso de un Italiano
plático y familiar de Ruy Gomez de Silva, MS.

[1536] "Oracion funebre," writes the follower of Ruy Gomez, "no la hubo,
pero ye hizo estos epitaphios y versos por mi consolacion." Ibid.

Whatever "consolation" the Latin doggerel which follows in the original
may have given to its author, it would have too little interest for the
reader to be quoted here.

[1537] "Il Rè como padre ha sentito molto, ma come christiano la
comporta con quells patienza con che dovemo ricevere le tribulationi,
che ci manda Nostro Signore Dio." Lettera del Nunzio, Luglio 24, 1568,
MS.

[1538] Raumer has given an extract from this letter, Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 149.

[1539] Besides Brantôme, and De Thou, elsewhere noticed in this
connection, another writer of that age, Pierre Matthieu, the royal
historiographer of France, may be thought to insinuate something of the
kind, when he tells us that "the circumstance of Isabella so soon
following Carlos to the tomb had suggested very different grounds from
those he had already given as the cause of his death." (Breve Compendio
de la Vida Privada del Rey Felipe Segundo, MS.) But the French writer's
account of Philip is nearly as apocryphal as the historical romance of
San Real, who, in all that relates to Carlos in particular, will be
found largely indebted to the lively imagination of his predecessor.

[1540] "Aussi dit on que cela fut cause de sa mort en partie, avec
d'autres subjects que je ne dirai point à ceste heure; car il ne se
pouvoit garder de l'aimer dans son ame, l'honorer et reverer, tant il la
trouvoit aymable et agréable à ses yeux, comme certes elle l'estoit en
tout." Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. V. p. 128.

[1541] "Luy eschappa de dire que c'avoit esté fait fort meschamment de
l'avoir fait mourir et si innocentement, dont il fut banny jusques au
plus profond des Indes d'Espagne. Cela est tres que vray, à ce que l'on
dit." Ibid., p. 132.

[1542] Apologie, ap. Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. V. par. i. p. 389.

Strada, while he notices the common rumors respecting Carlos and
Isabella, dismisses them as wholly unworthy of credit. "Mihi, super id
quod incomperta sunt, etiam veris dissimilia videntur." De Bello
Belgico, tom. I. p. 379.

[1543] At the head of these writers must undoubtedly be placed the Abbé
San Real, with whose romantic history of Don Carlos I am only acquainted
in the Castilian translation, entitled "Verdadera Historia de la Vida y
Muerte del Principe Don Carlos." Yet, romance as it is, more than one
grave historian has not disdained to transplant its flowers of fiction
into his own barren pages. It is edifying to see the manner in which
Leti, who stands not a little indebted to San Real, after stating the
scandalous rumors in regard to Carlos and Isabella, concludes by
declaring: "Ma come io sorivo historia, e non romanzo, non posso afirmar
nulli di certo, perche nulla di certo hò possuto raccore." Leti, Vita di
Filippo II., tom. I. p. 560.

[1544] "Monsieur le prince d'Hespaigne fort extenué, la vint saluer,
qu'elle recent avec telle caresse et comportement, que si le père et
toute la compaignie en ont receu ung singulier contentement ledit prince
l'a encores plus grand, comme il a demonstré depuis et démonstre
lorsqu'il la visite, qui ne peut estre souvent; car outre que les
conversations de ce pays ne sont pas si fréquentes et faciles qu'en
France, sa fièvre quarte le travaille tellement, que de jour en jour il
va s'exténuant." L'Evêque de Limoges au Roi, 23 février, 1559.
Négociations relatives au Règne de François II., p. 272.

[1545] "Ayant ladite dame mis toute la peine qu'il a esté possible à luy
donner, aux soirs, quelque plaisir du bail et autres honnestes
passetemps, desquels il a bon besoin, car le pauvre prince est si has et
exténué, il va d'heure à heure tant affoiblissant, que les plus sages de
œste court en out bien petite espérance." L'Evêque de Limoges au Roi,
1^er mars, 1569, Ibid., p. 291.

[1546] "La royne et la princesse la visitent bien souvent, et sopent en
un jardin qui est auprès de la meson, et le prince avec elles, qui aime
la royne singulièrement, de façôn qu'il ne ce peut soler de an dire
bien. _Je croys qu'il voudrait estre davantage son parent._" Claude de
... à la Reine Mère, août, 1560, Ibid., p. 460.

[1547] "On entendit aussi très-souvent ce jeune Prince, lorsqu'il
sortoit de la chambre de la Reine Elizabeth, avec qui il avoit de longs
et fréquens entretiens, se plaindre et marquer sa colère et son
indignation, de ce que son pere la lui avoit enlevée." De Thou, Histoire
Universelle, tom. V. p. 434.

[1548] "Vous dirès-ge, madame, que sy se n'estoit la bonne compaignie où
je suis en se lieu, et l'heur que j'ai de voir tous les jours le roy mon
seigneur, je trouverois se lieu l'un des plus fâcheux du monde. Mais je
vous assure, madame, que j'ay un si bon mari et suis si heureuse que,
quant il le seroit cent fois davantage, je ne m'y fâcherois point." La
Reine Catholique à la Reine Mère, Négociations relatives au Règne de
François II. p. 813.

[1549] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 129.

[1550] Ibid., p. 130.

[1551] Ibid., ubi supra.

[1552] "Ceste taille, elle l'accompagnoit d'un port, d'une majesté, d'un
geste, d'un marcher et d'une grace entremeslée de l'espagnole et de la
françoise en gravité et en douceur." See Brantôme, (Œuvres, tom. V. p.
129,) whose loyal pencil has traced the lineaments of Isabella as given
in the text.

[1553] Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 131.

[1554] Letter of Fourquevaulx, February 5, 1568, ap. Ibid., p. 139.

[1555] "Gli amici, in primo loco la Regína, la quale diceva che gli era
amorevolissima, Don Giovanni d'Austria suo carissimo et diletissimozio,"
etc. Lettera del Nunzio, Marzo 2, 1568, MS.

[1556] Letter of Fourquevaulx, October 3, 1568, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth
and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 158.

[1557] "Pero la Reyna hacia muy poco caudal de lo que los medicos decian
dando á entender con su Real condicion y gracioso semblante tener poca
necesidad de sus medicinas." Relacion de la Enfermedad y Essequias
funebres de la Serenissima Reyna de España Doña Ysabel de Valois, por
Juan Lopez, Catedratico del Estudio de Madrid, (Madrid, 1569,) fol. 4.

[1558] Ibid., ubi supra.

The learned professor has given the various symptoms of the queen's
malady with as curious a minuteness as if he had been concocting a
medical report. As an order was issued, shortly after the publication of
the work, prohibiting its sale, copies of it are exceedingly rare.

[1559] Quintana, Historia de Madrid, fol. 390.--Letter of Fourquevaulx,
October 3, 1568, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, vol.
I. p. 139.--Juan Lopez, Relacion de la Enfermedad de la Reyna Ysabel,
ubi supra.--Pinelo, Anales de Madrid, MS.

[1560] "Porque en efecto, el modo y manera conque ella las trataba, no
hera de senora á quien pareciesen servir, sino de madre y compañera."
Juan Lopez, Relacion de la Enfermedad de la Reyna Ysabel, loc. cit.

[1561] Ibid.--Pinelo, Anales de Madrid, MS.

[1562] Letter of Fourquevaulx, October 3, 1568, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth
and Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 159.

[1563] "Habia ordenado se tragese el lignum crucis del Rey nuestro
Señor, que es una muy buena parte que con grandismo hornato de oro y
perlas de supremo valor S. M. tiene." Juan Lopez, Relacion de la
Enfermedad de la Reyna Ysabel.

[1564] Letter of Fourquevaulx, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and Seventeenth
Centuries. vol. I p. 159.

[1565] Ibid., loc. cit.

The correspondence of the French ambassador, Fourquevaulx, is preserved
in MS., in the Royal Library at Paris. Raumer, with his usual judgment,
has freely extracted from it; and the freedom with which I have drawn
upon him shows the importance of his extracts to the illustration of the
present story. I regret that my knowledge of the existence of this
correspondence came too late to allow me to draw from the original
sources.

[1566] "Bistieron a la Reyna de habito de S. Francisco, y la pusieron en
un ataud poniendo con ella la infanta que en poco espacio habiendo
racebido agua de Espiritu Santo murió." Juan Lopez, Relacion de la
Enfermedad de la Reyna Ysabel.

[1567] "Fue cosa increible el doblar, y chamorear, por todas las
parroquias, y monasterios, y hospitales. Lo cual causó un nuebo dolor y
grandisimo aumento de aristeza, siendo ya algo tarde los grandes que en
la corte se hallaban, y mayordomos de S. M. sacaron el cuerpo de la
Reyna, y binieron con el a la Capilla Real." Ibid.

[1568] "Jamais on ne vit peuple si desolé ny si affligé, ni tant jeter
de hauts cris, ny tant espandre de larmes qu'il fit.... Que, pour
maniere de parler, vous eussiez dit, qu'il l'idolatroit plustost qu'il
ne l'honoroit et reveroit." Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. V. p. 131.

[1569] "Puesto el cuerpo por este orden cubierto con un muy rico paño de
brocado rodeado el cadalso de muchas achas en sus muy sumtuosos
blandones de plata." Juan Lopez, Relacion de la Enfermedad de la Reyna
Ysabel, ubi supra.

[1570] "Las damas en las tribunas de donde oye misa con hartos suspiros
y sollozos llebaban el contrapunto á la suave, tristé y contemplatiba
musica, conque empezaron el oficio la capilla de S. M." Ibid., ubi
supra.

[1571] "Las cuales viendo sparta el cuerpo, dieron muchos gritos y
suspiros y abriendole la duquesa de Alba, trajo muchos polbos de olores
aromaticos de grande olor y fragrancia, y embalsamon a la Reyna: la cual
aunque habia pasado tanto tiempo estaba como si entonces acabara de
morir, y con tan gran hermosura en el rostro que no parecia esta
muerta." Ibid., ubi supra.

[1572] Letter of St. Goar, June 18, 1573, ap. Raumer, Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries, vol. I. p. 163.--Quintana, Historia de Madrid,
fol. 370.

[1573] Letter of Catherine de Medicis, ap. Raumer, vol. I. p. 162.

[1574] Letter of Cardinal Guise. Feb. 6, 1569, ap. Ibid., 163.

[1575] The openness with which Carlos avowed his sentiments for Isabella
may be thought some proof of their innocence. Catherine de Medicis, in a
letter to Fourquevaulx, dated February 28, 1568, says, alluding to the
prince's arrest: "I am concerned that the event very much distresses my
daughter, as well with regard to her husband as in respect of the
prince, who has always let her know the good-will he bears to her."
Ibid., p. 141.

[1576] The French historian, De Thou, by no means disposed to pass too
favorable a judgment on the actions of Philip, and who in the present
case would certainly not be likely to show him any particular grace,
rejects without hesitation the suspicion of foul play on the part of the
king. "Quelques-uns soupçonnerent Philippe de l'avoir fait empoissoner,
parce qu'il lui avoit fait un crime de la trop grande familiarité
qu'elle avoit avec Dom Carlos. Il est néanmoins facile de se convaincre
du contraire, par la grande et sincère douleur que sa mort causa, tant à
la Cour que dans toute l'Espagne; le Roi la pleura, comme une femme
qu'il aimoit tres-tendrement." Histoire Universelle, tom. V. p. 437.

[1577] Brantôme, Œuvres, tom. V. p. 137.

Yet Isabella's mother, Catherine de Medicis, found fault with her
daughter, in the interview at Bayonne, for having become altogether a
Spaniard, saying to her tauntingly, "_Muy Española venis_." To which the
queen meekly replied, "It is possible that it may be so; but you will
still find me the same daughter to you as when you sent me to Spain."
The anecdote is told by Alva in a letter to the king. Carta del Duque de
Alva al Rey, MS.

[1578] "Aussi l'appelloit-on _la Reyna de le paz y de la bondad_,
c'est-à-dire la Reyn de la paix et de la bonté; et nos François
l'appellarent l'olive de paix." Ibid p. 129.

[1579] "Elle est morte au plus beau et plaisant avril de son aage....
Car elle estoit de naturel et de tainct pour durer longtemps belle, et
aussi que la vieillesss ne l'eust osé attaquer car sa beauté fut esté
plus forte." Ibid., p. 137.