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John Lothrop Motley >> The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1564 65
The four estates of Flanders having, in a solemn address to the King,
represented the same facts, concluded their brief but vigorous
description of Titelmann's enormities by calling upon Philip to suppress
these horrible practices, so manifestly in violation of the ancient
charters which he had sworn to support. It may be supposed that the
appeal to Philip would be more likely to call down a royal benediction
than the reproof solicited upon the inquisitor's head. In the privy
council, the petitions and remonstrances were read, and, in the words of
the President, "found to be in extremely bad taste." In the debate which
followed, Viglius and his friends recalled to the Duchess, in earnest
language, the decided will of the King, which had been so often
expressed. A faint representation was made, on the other hand, of the
dangerous consequences, in case the people were driven to a still deeper
despair. The result of the movement was but meagre. The Duchess
announced that she could do nothing in the matter of the request until
further information, but that meantime she had charged Titelmann to
conduct himself in his office "with discretion and modesty." The
discretion and modesty, however, never appeared in any modification of
the inquisitor's proceedings, and he continued unchecked in his infamous
career until death, which did not occur till several years afterwards.
In truth, Margaret was herself in mortal fear of this horrible personage.
He besieged her chamber door almost daily, before she had risen,
insisting upon audiences which, notwithstanding her repugnance to the
man, she did not dare to refuse. "May I perish," said Morillon, "if she
does not stand in exceeding awe of Titelmann." Under such circumstances,
sustained by the King in Spain, the Duchess in Brussels, the privy
council, and by a leading member of what had been thought the liberal
party, it was not difficult for the inquisition to maintain its ground,
notwithstanding the solemn protestations of the estates and the
suppressed curses of the people.
Philip, so far from having the least disposition to yield in the matter
of the great religious persecution, was more determined as to his course
than ever. He had already, as easy as August of this year, despatched
orders to the Duchess that the decrees of the Council of Trent should be
published and enforced throughout the Netherlands. The memorable quarrel
as to precedency between the French and Spanish delegates had given some
hopes of a different determination. Nevertheless, those persons who
imagined that, in consequence of this quarrel of etiquette, Philip would
slacken in his allegiance to the Church, were destined to be bitterly
mistaken. He informed his sister that, in the common cause of
Christianity, he should not be swayed by personal resentments.
How, indeed, could a different decision be expected? His envoy at Rome,
as well as his representatives at the council, had universally repudiated
all doubts as to the sanctity of its decrees. "To doubt the
infallibility of the council, as some have dared to do," said Francis de
Vargas, "and to think it capable of error, is the most devilish heresy of
all." Nothing could so much disturb and scandalize the world as such a
sentiment. Therefore the Archbishop of Granada told, very properly, the
Bishop of Tortosa, that if he should express such an opinion in Spain,
they would burn him. These strenuous notions were shared by the King.
Therefore, although all Europe was on tip-toe with expectation to see how
Philip would avenge himself for the slight put upon his ambassador,
Philip disappointed all Europe.
In August, 1564, he wrote to the Duchess Regent, that the decrees were
to be proclaimed and enforced without delay. They related to three
subjects, the doctrines to be inculcated by the Church, the reformation
of ecclesiastical moral, and the education of the people. General police
regulations were issued at the same time, by which heretics were to be
excluded from all share in the usual conveniences of society, and were
in fact to be strictly excommunicated. Inns were to receive no guests,
schools no children, alms-houses no paupers, grave-yards no dead bodies,
unless guests, children, paupers, and dead bodies were furnished with the
most satisfactory proofs of orthodoxy. Midwives of unsuspected Romanism
were alone to exercise their functions, and were bound to give notice
within twenty-four hours of every birth which occurred; the parish clerks
were as regularly to record every such addition to the population, and
the authorities to see that Catholic baptism was administered in each
case with the least possible delay. Births, deaths, and marriages could
only occur with validity under the shadow of the Church. No human being
could consider himself born or defunct unless provided with a priest's
certificate. The heretic was excluded, so far as ecclesiastical dogma
could exclude him, from the pale of humanity, from consecrated earth, and
from eternal salvation.
The decrees contained many provisions which not only conflicted with the
privileges of the provinces, but with the prerogatives of the sovereign.
For this reason many of the lords in council thought that at least the
proper exceptions should be made upon their promulgation. This was also
the opinion of the Duchess, but the King, by his letters of October, and
November (1564), expressly prohibited any alteration in the ordinances,
and transmitted a copy of the form according to which the canons had been
published in Spain, together with the expression of his desire that a
similar course should be followed in the Netherlands. Margaret of Parma
was in great embarrassment. It was evident that the publication could no
longer be deferred. Philip had issued his commands, but grave senators
and learned doctors of the university had advised strongly in favor of
the necessary exceptions. The extreme party, headed by Viglius, were in
favor of carrying out the royal decisions. They were overruled, and
the Duchess was induced to attempt a modification, if her brother's
permission could be obtained. The President expressed the opinion that
the decrees, even with the restrictions proposed, would "give no
contentment to the people, who, moreover, had no right to meddle with
theology." The excellent Viglius forgot, however, that theology had been
meddling altogether too much with the people to make it possible that the
public attention should be entirely averted from the subject. Men and
women who might be daily summoned to rack, stake, and scaffold, in the
course of these ecclesiastical arrangements, and whose births, deaths,
marriages, and position in the next world, were now to be formally
decided upon, could hardly be taxed with extreme indiscretion, if they
did meddle with the subject.
In the dilemma to which the Duchess was reduced, she again bethought
herself of a special mission to Spain. At the end of the year (1564), it
was determined that Egmont should be the envoy. Montigny excused himself
on account of private affairs; Marquis Berghen "because of his
indisposition and corpulence." There was a stormy debate in council
after Egmont had accepted the mission and immediately before his
departure. Viglius had been ordered to prepare the Count's instructions.
Having finished the rough draught, he laid it before the board. The
paper was conceived in general terms and might mean any thing or nothing.
No criticism upon its language was, however, offered until it came to the
turn of Orange to vote upon the document. Then, however, William the
Silent opened his lips, and poured forth a long and vehement discourse,
such as he rarely pronounced, but such as few except himself could utter.
There was no shuffling, no disguise, no timidity in his language.
He took the ground boldly that the time had arrived for speaking out.
The object of sending an envoy of high rank and European reputation like
the Count of Egmont, was to tell the King the truth. Let Philip know it
now. Let him be unequivocally informed that this whole machinery of
placards and scaffolds, of new bishops and old hangmen, of decrees,
inquisitors, and informers, must once and forever be abolished. Their
day was over. The Netherlands were free provinces, they were surrounded
by free countries, they were determined to vindicate their ancient
privileges. Moreover, his Majesty was to be plainly informed of the
frightful corruption which made the whole judicial and administrative
system loathsome. The venality which notoriously existed every where,
on the bench, in the council chamber, in all public offices, where purity
was most essential, was denounced by the Prince in scathing terms.
He tore the mask from individual faces, and openly charged the Chancellor
of Brabant, Engelbert Maas, with knavery and corruption. He insisted
that the King should be informed of the necessity of abolishing the two
inferior councils, and of enlarging the council of state by the admission
of ten or twelve new members selected for their patriotism, purity, and
capacity. Above all, it was necessary plainly to inform his Majesty that
the canons of Trent, spurned by the whole world, even by the Catholic
princes of Germany, could never be enforced in the Netherlands, and that
it would be ruinous to make the attempt. He proposed and insisted that
the Count of Egmont should be instructed accordingly. He avowed in
conclusion that he was a Catholic himself and intended to remain in the
Faith, but that he could not look on with pleasure when princes strove to
govern the souls of men, and to take away their liberty in matters of
conscience and religion.
Here certainly was no daintiness of phraseology, and upon these leading
points, thus slightly indicated, William of Orange poured out his
eloquence, bearing conviction upon the tide of his rapid invective.
His speech lasted till seven in the evening, when the Duchess adjourned
the meeting. The council broke up, the Regent went to supper, but the
effect of the discourse upon nearly all the members was not to be
mistaken. Viglius was in a state of consternation, perplexity, and
despair. He felt satisfied that, with perhaps the exception of
Berlaymont, all who had listened or should afterwards listen to the
powerful arguments of Orange, would be inevitably seduced or bewildered.
The President lay awake, tossing and tumbling in his bed, recalling the
Prince's oration, point by point, and endeavoring, to answer it in order.
It was important, he felt, to obliterate the impression produced.
Moreover, as we have often seen, the learned Doctor valued himself upon
his logic.
It was absolutely necessary, therefore, that in his reply, next day, his
eloquence should outshine that of his antagonist. The President thus
passed a feverish and uncomfortable night, pronouncing and listening to
imaginary harangues. With the dawn of day he arose and proceeded to
dress himself. The excitement of the previous evening and the subsequent
sleeplessness of his night had, however, been too much for his feeble and
slightly superannuated frame. Before he had finished his toilet,
a stroke of apoplexy stretched him senseless upon the floor.
His servants, when they soon afterwards entered the apartment,
found him rigid, and to all appearance dead. After a few days,
however, he recovered his physical senses in part, but his reason
remained for a longer time shattered, and was never perhaps fully
restored to its original vigor.
This event made it necessary that his place in the council should be
supplied. Viglius had frequently expressed intentions of retiring,
a measure to which he could yet never fully make up his mind. His place
was now temporarily supplied by his friend and countryman, Joachim
Hopper, like himself a, Frisian doctor of ancient blood and extensive
acquirements, well versed in philosophy and jurisprudence; a professor of
Louvain and a member of the Mechlin council. He was likewise the
original founder and projector of Douay University, an institution which
at Philip's desire he had successfully organized in 1556, in order that a
French university might be furnished for Walloon youths, as a substitute
for the seductive and poisonous Paris. For the rest, Hopper was a mere
man of routine. He was often employed in private affairs by Philip,
without being entrusted with the secret at the bottom of them. His mind
was a confused one, and his style inexpressibly involved and tedious.
"Poor master Hopper," said Granvelle, "did not write the best French in
the world; may the Lord forgive him. He was learned in letters, but knew
very little of great affairs." His manners were as cringing as his
intellect was narrow. He never opposed the Duchess, so that his
colleagues always called him Councillor "Yes, Madam," and he did his best
to be friends with all the world.
In deference to the arguments of Orange, the instructions for Egmont were
accordingly considerably modified from the original draughts of Viglius.
As drawn up by the new President, they contained at least a few hints to
his Majesty as to the propriety of mitigating the edicts and extending
some mercy to his suffering people. The document was, however, not very
satisfactory to the Prince, nor did he perhaps rely very implicitly upon
the character of the envoy.
Egmont set forth upon his journey early in January (1565). He travelled
in great state. He was escorted as far as Cambray by several nobles of
his acquaintance, who improved the occasion by a series of tremendous
banquets during the Count's sojourn, which was protracted till the end of
January. The most noted of these gentlemen were Hoogstraaten, Brederode,
the younger Mansfeld, Culemburg, and Noircarmes. Before they parted with
the envoy, they drew up a paper which they signed with their blood, and
afterwards placed in the hands of his Countess. In this document they
promised, on account of their "inexpressible and very singular affection"
for Egmont, that if, during his mission to Spain, any evil should befal
him, they would, on their faith as gentlemen and cavaliers of honor, take
vengeance, therefore, upon the Cardinal Granvelle, or upon all who should
be the instigators thereof.
[Green v. P., Archives, etc., i. 345, from Arnoldi, Hist. Denkwurd,
p. 282., It is remarkable that after the return of the Count from.
Spain, Hoogstraaten received this singular bond from the Countess,
and gave it to Mansfeld, to be burned in his presence. Mansfeld,
however, advised keeping it, on account of Noircarmes, whose
signature was attached to the document, and whom he knew to be so
false and deceitful a man that it might be well to have it within
their power at some future day to reproach him therewith.--Ibid.
It will be seen in the sequel that Noircarmes more than justified
the opinion of Mansfeld, but that the subsequent career of Mansfeld
himself did not entitle him to reproach any of Philip's noble
hangmen.]
Wherever Brederode was, there, it was probable, would be much severe
carousing. Before the conclusion, accordingly, of the visit to Cambray,
that ancient city rang with the scandal created by a most uproarious
scene. A banquet was given to Egmont and his friends in the citadel.
Brederode, his cousin Lumey, and the other nobles from Brussels, were all
present. The Archbishop of Cambray, a man very odious to the liberal
party in the provinces, was also bidden to the feast. During the dinner,
this prelate, although treated with marked respect by Egmont, was the
object of much banter and coarse pleasantry by the ruder portion of the
guests. Especially these convivial gentlemen took infinite pains to
overload him with challenges to huge bumpers of wine; it being thought
very desirable, if possible; to place the Archbishop under the table.
This pleasantry was alternated with much rude sarcasm concerning the new
bishoprics. The conversation then fell upon other topics, among others,
naturally upon the mission of Count Egmont. Brederede observed that it
was a very hazardous matter to allow so eminent a personage to leave the
land at such a critical period. Should any thing happen to the Count,
the Netherlands would sustain an immense loss. The Archbishop, irritated
by the previous conversation, ironically requested the speaker to be
comforted, "because," said he, "it will always be easy to find a new
Egmont." Upon this, Brederode, beside himself with rage, cried out
vehemently, "Are we to tolerate such language from this priest?"
Gulemburg, too, turning upon the offender, observed, "Your observation
would be much more applicable to your own case. If you were to die,
't would be easy to find five hundred of your merit, to replace you in
the see of Cambray." The conversation was, to say the least, becoming
personal. The Bishop, desirous of terminating this keen encounter of
wits, lifted a goblet full of wine and challenged Brederode to drink.
That gentleman declined the invitation. After the cloth had been
removed, the cup circulated more freely than ever. The revelry became
fast and furious. One of the younger gentlemen who was seated near the
Bishop snatched the bonnet of that dignitary from his head and placed it
upon his own. He then drained a bumper to his health, and passed the
goblet and the cap to his next neighbor. Both circulated till they
reached the Viscount of Ghent, who arose from his seat and respectfully
restored the cap to its owner. Brederode then took a large "cup of
silver and gold," filled it to the brim, and drained it to the confusion
of Cardinal Granvelle; stigmatizing that departed minister, as he
finished, by an epithet of more vigor than decency. He then called upon
all the company to pledge him to the same toast, and denounced as
cardinalists all those who should refuse. The Archbishop, not having
digested the affronts which had been put upon him already, imprudently
ventured himself once more into the confusion, and tried to appeal to
the reason of the company. He might as well have addressed the crew of
Comus. He gained nothing but additional insult. Brederode advanced upon
him with threatening gestures. Egmont implored the prelate to retire, or
at least not to take notice of a nobleman so obviously beyond the control
of his reason. The Bishop, however, insisted--mingling reproof, menace;
and somewhat imperious demands--that the indecent Saturnalia should
cease. It would have been wiser for him to retire. Count Hoogstraaten,
a young man and small of stature, seized the gilt laver, in which the
company had dipped their fingers before seating themselves at table:
"Be quiet, be quiet, little man," said Egmont, soothingly, doing his best
to restrain the tumult. "Little man, indeed," responded the Count,
wrathfully; "I would have you to know that never did little man spring
from my race." With those words he hurled the basin, water, and all, at
the head of the Archbishop. Hoogstraaten had no doubt manifested his
bravery before that day; he was to display, on future occasions, a very
remarkable degree of heroism; but it must be confessed that the chivalry
of the noble house of Lalaing was not illustrated by this attack upon a
priest. The Bishop was sprinkled by the water, but not struck by the
vessel. Young Mansfeld, ashamed of the outrage, stepped forward to
apologize for the conduct of his companions and to soothe the insulted
prelate. That personage, however, exasperated, very naturally, to the
highest point, pushed him rudely away, crying, "Begone, begone! who is
this boy that is preaching to me?" Whereupon, Mansfeld, much irritated,
lifted his hand towards the ecclesiastic, and snapped his fingers
contemptuously in his face. Some even said that he pulled the
archiepiscopal nose, others that he threatened his life with a drawn
dagger. Nothing could well have been more indecent or more cowardly than
the conduct of these nobles upon this occasion. Their intoxication,
together with the character of the victim, explained, but certainly could
not palliate the vulgarity of the exhibition. It was natural enough that
men like Brederode should find sport in this remarkable badgering of a
bishop, but we see with regret the part played by Hoogstraaten in the
disgraceful scene.
The prelate, at last, exclaiming that it appeared that he had been
invited only to be insulted, left the apartment, accompanied by
Noircarmes and the Viscount of Ghent, and threatening that all his
friends and relations should be charged with his vengeance. The next
day a reconciliation was effected, as well as such an arrangement was
possible, by the efforts of Egmont, who dined alone with the prelate.
In the evening, Hoogstraaten, Culemburg, and Brederode called upon the
Bishop, with whom they were closeted for, an hour, and the party
separated on nominal terms of friendship.
This scandalous scene; which had been enacted not only before many
guests, but in presence of a host of servants, made necessarily a great
sensation throughout the country. There could hardly be much difference
of opinion among respectable people as to the conduct of the noblemen who
had thus disgraced themselves. Even Brederode himself, who appeared to
have retained, as was natural, but a confused impression of the
transaction, seemed in the days which succeeded the celebrated banquet,
to be in doubt whether he and his friends had merited any great amount of
applause. He was, however, somewhat self-contradictory, although always
vehement in his assertions on the subject. At one time he maintained--
after dinner, of course--that he would have killed the Archbishop if they
had not been forcibly separated; at other moments he denounced as liars
all persons who should insinuate that be had committed or contemplated
any injury to that prelate; offering freely to fight any man who disputed
either of his two positions.
The whole scene was dramatized and represented in masquerade at a wedding
festival given by Councillor d'Assonleville, on the marriage of
Councillor Hopper's daughter, one of the principal parts being enacted by
a son of the President-judge of Artois. It may be supposed that if such
eminent personages, in close connexion with the government, took part in
such proceedings, the riot must have been considered of a very pardonable
nature. The truth was, that the Bishop was a cardinalist, and therefore
entirely out of favor with the administration. He was also a man of
treacherous, sanguinary character, and consequently detested by the
people. He had done his best to destroy heresy in Valenciennes by fire
and sword. "I will say one thing," said he in a letter to Granvelle,
which had been intercepted, "since the pot is uncovered, and the whole
cookery known, we had best push forward and make an end of all the
principal heretics, whether rich or poor, without regarding whether the
city will be entirely ruined by such a course. Such an opinion I should
declare openly were it not that we of the ecclesiastical profession are
accused of always crying out for blood." Such was the prelate's theory.
His practice may be inferred from a specimen of his proceedings which
occurred at a little later day. A citizen of Cambray, having been
converted to the Lutheran Confession, went to the Archbishop, and
requested permission to move out of the country, taking his property
with him. The petitioner having made his appearance in the forenoon,
was requested to call again after dinner, to receive his answer.
The burgher did so, and was received, not by the prelate, but by the
executioner, who immediately carried the Lutheran to the market-place,
and cut off his head. It is sufficiently evident that a minister of
Christ, with such propensities, could not excite any great sympathy,
however deeply affronted he might have been at a drinking party, so long
as any Christians remained in the land.
Egmont departed from Cambray upon the 30th January, his friends taking a
most affectionate farewell of him; and Brederode assuring him, with a
thousand oaths, that he would forsake God for his service. His reception
at Madrid was most brilliant. When he made his first appearance at the
palace, Philip rushed from his cabinet into the grand hall of reception,
and fell upon his neck, embracing him heartily before the Count had time
to drop upon his knee and kiss the royal hand. During the whole period
of his visit he dined frequently at the King's private table, an honor
rarely accorded by Philip, and was feasted and flattered by all the great
dignitaries of the court as never a subject of the Spanish crown had been
before. All vied with each other in heaping honors upon the man whom the
King was determined to honor.
Philip took him out to drive daily in his own coach, sent him to see the
wonders of the new Escorial, which he was building to commemorate the
battle of St. Quentin, and, although it was still winter, insisted upon
showing him the beauties of his retreat in the Segovian forest.
Granvelle's counsels as to the method by which the "friend of smoke" was
so easily to be gained, had not fallen unheeded in his royal pupil's
ears. The Count was lodged in the house of Ruy Gomez, who soon felt
himself able, according to previous assurances to that effect, contained
in a private letter of Armenteros, to persuade the envoy to any course
which Philip might command. Flattery without stint was administered.
More solid arguments to convince the Count that Philip was the most
generous and clement of princes were also employed with great effect.
The royal dues upon the estate of Gaasbecque, lately purchased by Egmont,
were remitted. A mortgage upon his Seigneurie of Ninove was discharged,
and a considerable sum of money presented to him in addition.
Altogether, the gifts which the ambassador received from the royal
bounty amounted to one hundred thousand crowns. Thus feasted, flattered,
and laden with presents, it must be admitted that the Count more than
justified the opinions expressed in the letter of Armenteros, that he was
a man easily governed by those who had credit with him. Egmont hardly
broached the public matters which had brought him to Madrid. Upon the
subject of the edicts, Philip certainly did not dissemble, however loudly
the envoy may have afterwards complained at Brussels. In truth, Egmont,
intoxicated by the incense offered to him at the Spanish court, was a
different man from Egmont in the Netherlands, subject to the calm but
piercing glance and the irresistible control of Orange. Philip gave him
no reason to suppose that he intended any change in the religious system
of the provinces, at least in any sense contemplated by the liberal
party. On the contrary, a council of doctors and ecclesiastics was
summoned, at whose deliberations the Count was invited to assist;
on which occasion the King excited general admiration by the fervor of
his piety and the vehemence of his ejaculations. Falling upon his knees
before a crucifix, in the midst of the assembly, he prayed that God would
keep him perpetually in the same mind, and protested that he would never
call himself master of those who denied the Lord God. Such an exhibition
could leave but little doubt in the minds of those who witnessed it as to
the royal sentiments, nor did Egmont make any effort to obtain any
relaxation of those religious edicts, which he had himself declared
worthy of approbation, and fit to be maintained. As to the question of
enlarging the state-council, Philip dismissed the subject with a few
vague observations, which Egmont, not very zealous on the subject at the
moment, perhaps misunderstood. The punishment of heretics by some new
method, so as to secure the pains but to take away the glories of
martyrdom, was also slightly discussed, and here again Egmont was so
unfortunate as to misconceive the royal meaning, and to interpret an
additional refinement of cruelty into an expression of clemency. On the
whole, however, there was not much negotiation between the monarch and
the ambassador. When the Count spoke of business, the King would speak
to him of his daughters, and of his desire to see them provided with
brilliant marriages. As Egmont had eight girls, besides two sons, it was
natural that he should be pleased to find Philip taking so much interest
in looking out husbands for them. The King spoke to him, as hardly could
be avoided, of the famous fool's-cap livery. The Count laughed the
matter off as a jest, protesting that it was a mere foolish freak,
originating at the wine-table, and asseverating, with warmth, that
nothing disrespectful or disloyal to his Majesty had been contemplated
upon that or upon any other occasion. Had a single gentleman uttered an
undutiful word against the King, Egmont vowed he would have stabbed him
through and through upon the spot, had he been his own brother. These
warm protestations were answered by a gentle reprimand as to the past
by Philip, and with a firm caution as to the future. "Let it be
discontinued entirely, Count," said the King, as the two were driving
together in the royal carriage. Egmont expressed himself in handsome
terms concerning the Cardinal, in return for the wholesale approbation
quoted to him in regard to his own character, from the private letters
of that sagacious personage to his Majesty. Certainly, after all this,
the Count might suppose the affair of the livery forgiven. Thus amicably
passed the hours of that mission, the preliminaries for which had called
forth so much eloquence from the Prince of Orange and so nearly carried
off with apoplexy the President Viglius. On his departure Egmont
received a letter of instructions from Philip as to the report which
he was to make upon his arrival in Brussels, to the Duchess. After many
things personally flattering to himself, the envoy was directed to
represent the King as overwhelmed with incredible grief at hearing the
progress made by the heretics, but as immutably determined to permit no
change of religion within his dominions, even were he to die a thousand
deaths in consequence. The King, he was to state, requested the Duchess
forthwith to assemble an extraordinary session of the council, at which
certain bishops, theological doctors, and very orthodox lawyers, were to
assist, in which, under pretence of discussing the Council of Trent
matter, it was to be considered whether there could not be some new way
devised for executing heretics; not indeed one by which any deduction
should be made from their sufferings (which certainly was not the royal
wish, nor likely to be grateful to God or salutary to religion), but by
which all hopes of glory--that powerful incentive to their impiety--might
be precluded. With regard to any suggested alterations in the council
of state, or in the other two councils, the King was to be represented as
unwilling to form any decision until he should hear, at length, from the
Duchess Regent upon the subject.