Books: The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1573
J >>
John Lothrop Motley >> The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1573
On the 8th of October, accordingly, the siege, which had lasted seven
weeks, was raised, and Don Frederic rejoined his father in Amsterdam.
Ready to die in the last ditch, and to overwhelm both themselves and
their foes in a common catastrophe the Hollanders had at last compelled
their haughty enemy to fly from a position which he had so insolently
assumed.
These public transactions and military operations were not the only
important events which affected the fate of Holland and its sister
provinces at this juncture. The secret relations which had already been
renewed between Louis of Nassau, as plenipotentiary of his brother and
the French court, had for some time excited great uneasiness in the mind
of Alva. Count Louis was known to be as skilful a negotiator as he was
valiant and accomplished as a soldier. His frankness and boldness
created confidence. The "brave spirit in the loyal breast" inspired all
his dealing; his experience and quick perception of character prevented
his becoming a dupe of even the most adroit politicians, while his truth
of purpose made him incapable either of overreaching an ally or of
betraying a trust. His career indicated that diplomacy might be
sometimes successful, even although founded upon sincerity.
Alva secretly expressed to his sovereign much suspicion of France. He
reminded him that Charles IX.; during the early part of the preceding
year, had given the assurance that he was secretly dealing with Louis of
Nassau, only that he might induce the Count to pass over to Philip's
service. At the same time Charles had been doing all he could to succor
Moos, and had written the memorable letter which had fallen into Alva's
hands on the capture of Genlis, and which expressed such a fixed
determination to inflict a deadly blow upon the King, whom the writer was
thus endeavouring to cajole. All this the Governor recalled to the
recollection of his sovereign. In view of this increasing repugnance of
the English court, Alva recommended that fair words should be employed;
hinting, however, that it would be by no means necessary for his master
to consider himself very strictly bound by any such pledges to Elizabeth,
if they should happen to become inconveniently pressing. "A monarch's
promises," he delicately suggested, "were not to be considered so sacred
as those of humbler mortals. Not that the King should directly violate
his word, but at the same time," continued the Duke, "I have thought all
my life, and I have learned it from the Emperor, your Majesty's father,
that the negotiations of kings depend upon different principles from
those of us private gentlemen who walk the world; and in this manner I
always observed that your Majesty's father, who was, so great a gentleman
and so powerful a prince, conducted his affairs." The Governor took
occasion, likewise, to express his regrets at the awkward manner in which
the Ridolfi scheme had been managed. Had he been consulted at an earlier
day, the affair could have been treated much more delicately; as it was,
there could be little doubt but that the discovery of the plot had
prejudiced the mind of Elizabeth against Spain. "From that dust,"
concluded the Duke, "has resulted all this dirt." It could hardly be
matter of surprise, either to Philip or his Viceroy, that the discovery
by Elizabeth of a plot upon their parts to take her life and place the
crown upon the head of her hated rival, should have engendered unamiable
feelings in her bosom towards them. For the moment, however, Alva's
negotiations were apparently successful.
On the first of May, 1573, the articles of convention between England and
Spain, with regard to the Netherland difficulty, had been formally
published in Brussels. The Duke, in communicating the termination of
these arrangements, quietly recommended his master thenceforth to take
the English ministry into his pay. In particular he advised his Majesty
to bestow an annual bribe upon Lord Burleigh, "who held the kingdom in
his hand; for it has always been my opinion," he continued, "that it was
an excellent practice for princes to give pensions to the ministers of
other potentates, and to keep those at home who took bribes from nobody."
On the other hand, the negotiations of Orange with the English court were
not yet successful, and he still found it almost impossible to raise the
requisite funds for carrying on the war. Certainly, his private letters
showed that neither he nor his brothers were self-seekers in their
negotiations. "You know;" said he in a letter to his brothers, "that my
intention has never been to seek my private advantage. I have only
aspired for the liberty of the country, in conscience and in polity,
which foreigners have sought to oppress. I have no other articles to
propose, save that religion, reformed according to the Word of God,
should be permitted, that then the commonwealth should be restored to its
ancient liberty, and, to that end, that the Spaniards and other soldiery
should be compelled to retire."
The restoration of civil and religious liberty, the, establishment of the
great principle of toleration in matters of conscience, constituted the
purpose to which his days and nights were devoted, his princely fortune
sacrificed, his life-blood risked. At the same time, his enforcement of
toleration to both religions excited calumny against him among the
bigoted adherents of both. By the Catholics he was accused of having
instigated the excesses which he had done everything in his power to
repress. The enormities of De la Marck, which had inspired the Prince's
indignation, were even laid at the door of him who had risked his life to
prevent and to chastise them. De la Marck had, indeed, more than
counterbalanced his great service in the taking of Brill, by his
subsequent cruelties. At last, Father Cornelius Musius, pastor of Saint
Agatha, at the age of seventy-two, a man highly esteemed by the Prince of
Orange, had been put to torture and death by this barbarian, under
circumstances of great atrocity. The horrid deed cost the Prince many
tears, aroused the indignation of the estates of Holland, and produced
the dismission of the perpetrator from their service. It was considered
expedient, however, in view of his past services, his powerful
connexions, and his troublesome character, that he should be induced
peaceably to leave the country.
It was long before the Prince and the estates could succeed in ridding
themselves of this encumbrance. He created several riots in different
parts of the province, and boasted, that he had many fine ships of war
and three thousand men devoted to him, by whose assistance he could make
the estates "dance after his pipe." At the beginning of the following
year (1574), he was at last compelled to leave the provinces, which he
never again troubled with his presence. Some years afterwards, he died
of the bite of a mad dog; an end not inappropriate to a man of so rabid a
disposition.
While the Prince was thus steadily striving for a lofty and generous
purpose, he was, of course, represented by his implacable enemies as a
man playing a game which, unfortunately for himself, was a losing one.
"That poor prince," said Granvelle, "has been ill advised. I doubt now
whether he will ever be able to make his peace, and I think we shall
rather try to get rid of him and his brother as if they were Turks. The
marriage with the daughter of Maurice, 'unde mala et quia ipse talis',
and his brothers have done him much harm. So have Schwendi and German
intimacies. I saw it all very plainly, but he did not choose to believe
me."
Ill-starred, worse counselled William of Orange! Had he but taken the
friendly Cardinal's advice, kept his hand from German marriages and his
feet from conventicles--had he assisted his sovereign in burning heretics
and hunting rebels, it would not then have become necessary "to treat him
like a Turk." This is unquestionable. It is equally so that there would
have been one great lamp the less in that strait and difficult pathway
which leads to the temple of true glory.
The main reliance of Orange was upon the secret negotiations which his
brother Louis was then renewing with the French government. The Prince
had felt an almost insurmountable repugnance towards entertaining any
relation with that blood-stained court, since the massacre of Saint
Bartholomew. But a new face had recently been put upon that transaction.
Instead of glorying, in their crime, the King and his mother now assumed
a tone of compunction, and averred that the deed had been unpremeditated;
that it had been the result of a panic or an ecstasy of fear inspired by
the suddenly discovered designs of the Huguenots; and that, in the
instinct of self-preservation, the King, with his family and immediate
friends, had plunged into a crime which they now bitterly lamented. The
French envoys at the different courts of Europe were directed to impress
this view upon the minds of the monarchs to whom they were accredited.
It was certainly a very different instruction from that which they had at
first received. Their cue had originally been to claim a full meed of
praise and thanksgiving in behalf of their sovereign for his meritorious
exploit. The salvos of artillery, the illuminations and rejoicings, the
solemn processions and masses by which the auspicious event had been
celebrated, mere yet fresh in the memory of men. The ambassadors were
sufficiently embarrassed by the distinct and determined approbation which
they had recently expressed. Although the King, by formal proclamation,
had assumed the whole responsibility, as he had notoriously been one of
the chief perpetrators of the deed, his agents were now to stultify
themselves and their monarch by representing, as a deplorable act of
frenzy, the massacre which they had already extolled to the echo as a
skilfully executed and entirely commendable achievement.
To humble the power of Spain, to obtain the hand of Queen Elizabeth for
the Duke d'Alencon, to establish an insidious kind of protectorate over
the Protestant princes of Germany, to obtain the throne of Poland for the
Duke of Anjou, and even to obtain the imperial crown for the house of
Valois--all these cherished projects seemed dashed to the ground by the
Paris massacre and the abhorrence which it had created. Charles and
Catharine were not slow to discover the false position in which they had
placed themselves, while the Spanish jocularity at the immense error
committed by France was visible enough through the assumed mask of holy
horror.
Philip and Alva listened with mischievous joy to the howl of execration
which swept through Christendom upon every wind. They rejoiced as
heartily in the humiliation of the malefactors as they did in the
perpetration of the crime. "Your Majesty," wrote Louis of Nassau, very
bluntly, to King Charles, "sees how the Spaniard, your mortal enemy,
feasts himself full with the desolation of your affairs; how he laughs,
to-split his sides, at your misfortunes. This massacre has enabled him
to weaken your Majesty more than he could have done by a war of thirty
years."
Before the year had revolved, Charles had become thoroughly convinced of
the fatal impression produced by the event. Bitter and almost abject
were his whinings at the Catholic King's desertion of his cause.
"He knows well," wrote Charles to Saint Goard, "that if he can terminate
these troubles and leave me alone in the dance, he will have leisure and
means to establish his authority, not only in the Netherlands but
elsewhere; and that he will render himself more grand and formidable than
he has ever been. This is the return they render for the good received
from me, which is such as every one knows."
Gaspar de Schomberg, the adroit and honorable agent of Charles in
Germany, had at a very early day warned his royal master of the ill
effect of the massacre upon all the schemes which he had been pursuing,
and especially upon those which referred to the crowns of the Empire and
of Poland. The first project was destined to be soon abandoned. It was
reserved neither for Charles nor Philip to divert the succession in
Germany from the numerous offspring of Maximilian; yet it is instructive
to observe the unprincipled avidity with which the prize was sought by
both. Each was willing to effect its purchase by abjuring what were
supposed his most cherished principles. Philip of Spain, whose mission
was to extirpate heresy throughout his realms, and who, in pursuance of
that mission, had already perpetrated more crimes, and waded more deeply
in the blood of his subjects, than monarch had often done before; Philip,
for whom his apologists have never found any defence, save that he
believed it his duty to God rather to depopulate his territories than to
permit a single heretic within their limits--now entered into secret
negotiations with the princes of the Empire. He pledged himself, if they
would confer the crown upon him, that he would withdraw the Spaniards
from the Netherlands; that he would tolerate in those provinces the
exercise of the Reformed religion; that he would recognize their union
with the rest of the German Empire, and their consequent claim to the
benefits of the Passau treaty; that he would restore the Prince of Orange
"and all his accomplices" to their former possessions, dignities, and
condition; and that he would cause to be observed, throughout every realm
incorporated with the Empire, all the edicts and ordinances which had
been constructed to secure religious freedom in Germany. In brief,
Philip was willing, in case the crown of Charlemagne should be promised
him, to undo the work of his life, to reinstate the arch-rebel whom he
had hunted and proscribed, and to bow before that Reformation whose
disciples he had so long burned, and butchered. So much extent and no
more had that religious, conviction by which he had for years had the
effrontery to excuse the enormities practised in the Netherlands. God
would never forgive him so long as one heretic remained unburned in the
provinces; yet give him the Imperial sceptre, and every heretic, without
forswearing his heresy, should be purged with hyssop and become whiter
than snow.
Charles IX., too, although it was not possible for him to recal to life
the countless victims of the Parisian wedding, was yet ready to explain
those murders to the satisfaction of every unprejudiced mind. This had
become strictly necessary. Although the accession of either his Most
Christian or Most Catholic Majesty to the throne of the Caesars was a
most improbable event, yet the humbler elective, throne actually vacant
was indirectly in the gift of the same powers. It was possible that the
crown of Poland might be secured for the Duke of Anjou. That key unlocks
the complicated policy of this and the succeeding year. The Polish
election is the clue to the labyrinthian intrigues and royal
tergiversations during the period of the interregnum. Sigismund
Augustus, last of the Jagellons, had died on the 7th July; 1572. The
prominent candidates to succeed him were the Archduke Ernest, son of
the Emperor, and Henry of Anjou. The Prince of Orange was not forgotten.
A strong party were in favor of compassing his election, as the most
signal triumph which Protestantism could gain, but his ambition had not
been excited by the prospect of such a prize. His own work required all
the energies of all his life. His influence, however, was powerful, and
eagerly sought by the partisans of Anjou. The Lutherans and Moravians in
Poland were numerous, the Protestant party there and in Germany holding
the whole balance of the election in their hands.
It was difficult for the Prince to overcome his repugnance to the very
name of the man whose crime had at once made France desolate, and
blighted the fair prospects under which he and his brother had, the year
before, entered the Netherlands. Nevertheless; he was willing to listen
to the statements by which the King and his ministers endeavoured, not
entirely without success, to remove from their reputations, if not from
their souls; the guilt of deep design. It was something, that the
murderers now affected to expiate their offence in sackcloth and ashes--
it was something that, by favoring the pretensions of Anjou, and by
listening with indulgence to the repentance of Charles, the siege of
Rochelle could be terminated, the Huguenots restored to freedom of
conscience, and an alliance with a powerful nation established, by aid of
which the Netherlands might once more lift their heads. The French
government, deeply hostile to Spain, both from passion and policy,
was capable of rendering much assistance to the revolted provinces.
"I entreat you most humbly, my good master," wrote Schomberg to Charles
IX., "to beware of allowing the electors to take into their heads that
you are favoring the affairs of the King of Spain in any manner
whatsoever. Commit against him no act of open hostility, if you think
that imprudent; but look sharp! if you do not wish to be thrown clean out
of your saddle. I should split with rage if I should see you, in
consequence of the wicked calumnies of your enemies, fail to secure the
prize."
Orange was induced, therefore, to accept, however distrustfully, the
expression of a repentance which was to be accompanied with healing
measures. He allowed his brother Louis to resume negotiations with
Schomberg, in Germany. He drew up and transmitted to him the outlines
of a treaty which he was willing to make with Charles. The main
conditions of this arrangement illustrated the disinterested character
of the man. He stipulated that the King of France should immediately
make peace with his subjects, declaring expressly that he had been abused
by those, who, under pretext of his service, had sought their own profit
at the price of ruin to the crown and people. The King should make
religion free. The edict to that effect should be confirmed by all the
parliaments and estates of the kingdom, and such confirmations should be
distributed without reserve or deceit among all the princes of Germany.
If his Majesty were not inclined to make war for the liberation of the
Netherlands, he was to furnish the Prince of Orange with one hundred
thousand crowns at once, and every three months with another hundred
thousand. The Prince was to have liberty to raise one thousand cavalry
and seven thousand infantry in France. Every city or town in the
provinces which should be conquered by his arms, except in Holland or
Zealand, should be placed under the sceptre, and in the hands of the King
of France. The provinces of Holland and Zealand should also be placed
under his protection, but should be governed by their own gentlemen and
citizens. Perfect religious liberty and maintenance of the ancient
constitutions, privileges, and charters were to be guaranteed "without
any cavilling whatsoever." The Prince of Orange, or the estates of
Holland or Zealand, were to reimburse his Christian Majesty for the sums
which he was to advance. In this last clause was the only mention which
the Prince made of himself, excepting in the stipulation that he was to
be allowed a levy of troops in France. His only personal claims were
to enlist soldiers to fight the battles of freedom, and to pay their
expense, if it should not be provided for by the estates. At nearly
the same period, he furnished his secret envoys, Luinbres and Doctor
Taijaert, who were to proceed to Paris, with similar instructions.
The indefatigable exertions of Schomberg, and the almost passionate
explanations on the part of the court of France, at length produced their
effect. "You will constantly assure the princes," wrote the Duke of
Anjou to Schomberg, "that the things written, to you concerning that
which had happened in this kingdom are true; that the events occurred
suddenly, without having been in any manner premeditated; that neither
the King nor myself have ever had any intelligence with, the King of
Spain, against those of the religion, and that all is utter imposture
which is daily said on this subject to the princes."
Count Louis required peremptorily, however, that the royal repentance
should bring forth the fruit of salvation for the remaining victims. Out
of the nettles of these dangerous intrigues his fearless hand plucked the
"flower of safety" for his down-trodden cause. He demanded not words,
but deeds, or at least pledges. He maintained with the agents of Charles
and with the monarch himself the same hardy scepticism which was
manifested by the Huguenot deputies in their conferences with Catharine
de Medicis. "Is the word of a king," said the dowager to the
commissioners, who were insisting upon guarantees, "is the word of a king
not sufficient?"--"No, madam," replied one of them, "by Saint
Bartholomew, no!" Count Louis told Schomberg roundly, and repeated it
many times, that he must have in a very few days a categorical response,
"not to consist in words alone, but in deeds, and that he could not, and
would not, risk for ever the honor of his brother, nor the property;
blood, and life of those poor people who favored the cause."
On the 23rd March, 1573, Schomberg had an interview with Count Louis,
which lasted seven or eight hours. In that interview the enterprises of
the Count, "which," said Schomberg, "are assuredly grand and beautiful,"
were thoroughly discussed, and a series of conditions, drawn up partly in
the hand of one, partly in that of the other negotiator; definitely
agreed upon. These conditions were on the basis of a protectorate over
Holland and Zealand for the King of France, with sovereignty over the
other places to be acquired in the Netherlands. They were in strict
accordance with the articles furnished by the Prince of Orange. Liberty
of worship for those of both religions, sacred preservation of municipal
charters, and stipulation of certain annual subsidies on the part of
France, in case his Majesty should not take the field, were the principal
features.
Ten days later, Schomberg wrote to his master that the Count was willing
to use all the influence of his family to procure for Anjou the crown of
Poland, while Louis, having thus completed his negotiations with the
agent, addressed a long and earnest letter to the royal principal. This
remarkable despatch was stamped throughout with the impress of the
writer's frank and fearless character. "Thus diddest thou" has rarely
been addressed to anointed monarch in such unequivocal tones: The letter
painted the favorable position in which the king had been placed
previously to the fatal summer of 1572. The Queen of England was then
most amicably disposed towards him, and inclined to a yet closer
connexion with his family. The German princes were desirous to elect
him King of the Romans, a dignity for which his grandfather had so
fruitlessly contended. The Netherlanders, driven to despair by the
tyranny of their own sovereign, were eager to throw themselves into his
arms. All this had been owing to his edict of religious pacification.
How changed the picture now! Who now did reverence to a King so criminal
and so fallen? "Your Majesty to-day," said Louis, earnestly and plainly,
"is near to ruin. The State, crumbling on every side and almost
abandoned, is a prey to any one who wishes to seize upon it; the more
so, because your Majesty, having, by the late excess and by the wars
previously made, endeavoured to force men's consciences, is now so
destitute, not only of nobility and soldiery but of that which
constitutes the strongest column of the throne, the love and good wishes
of the lieges, that your Majesty resembles an ancient building propped
up, day after, day, with piles, but which it will be impossible long to
prevent from falling to the earth." Certainly, here were wholesome
truths told in straightforward style.
The Count proceeded to remind the King of the joy which the "Spaniard,
his mortal enemy," had conceived from the desolation of his affairs,
being assured that he should, by the troubles in France, be enabled to
accomplish his own purposes without striking a blow. This, he observed,
had been the secret of the courtesy with which the writer himself had
been treated by the Duke of Alva at the surrender of Mons. Louis assured
the King, in continuation, that if he persevered in these oppressive
courses towards his subjects of the new religion, there was no hope for
him, and that his two brothers would, to no purpose, take their departure
for England, and, for Poland, leaving him with a difficult and dangerous
war upon his hands. So long as he maintained a hostile attitude towards
the Protestants in his own kingdom, his fair words would produce no
effect elsewhere. "We are beginning to be vexed," said the Count, "with
the manner of negotiation practised by France. Men do not proceed
roundly to business there, but angle with their dissimulation as with a
hook."