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The Rise of the Dutch Republic — Complete (1574-84)

by John Lothrop Motley · English · Gutenberg #4835 · 1,196,348 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Rise of the Dutch Republic — Complete (1574-84)

Author: John Lothrop Motley


        
Release date: November 7, 2004 [eBook #4835]
                Most recently updated: December 28, 2020

Language: English

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Produced by David Widger




MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS

THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, VOLUME III.

By John Lothrop Motley

1855




CHAPTER III. 1574-1576

   Latter days of the Blood Council--Informal and insincere
   negotiations for peace--Characteristics of the negotiators and of
   their diplomatic correspondence--Dr. Junius--Secret conferences
   between Dr. Leoninus and Orange--Steadfastness of the Prince--
   Changes in the internal government of the northern provinces--
   Generosity and increasing power of the municipalities--Incipient
   jealousy in regard to Orange rebuked--His offer of resignation
   refused by the Estates--His elevation to almost unlimited power--
   Renewed mediation of Maximilian--Views and positions of the parties
   --Advice of Orange--Opening of negotiations at Breda--Propositions
   and counter-propositions--Adroitness of the plenipotentiaries on
   both sides--Insincere diplomacy and unsatisfactory results--Union of
   Holland and Zealand under the Prince of Orange--Act defining his
   powers--Charlotte de Bourbon--Character, fortunes, and fate of Anna
   of Saxony--Marriage of Orange with Mademoiselle de Bourbon--
   Indignation thereby excited--Horrible tortures inflicted upon
   Papists by Sonoy in North Holland--Oudewater and Schoonoven taken by
   Hierges--The isles of Zealand--A submarine expedition projected--
   Details of the adventure--Its entire success--Death of Chiappin
   Vitelli--Deliberations in Holland and Zealand concerning the
   renunciation of Philip's authority--Declaration at Delft--Doubts as
   to which of the Great Powers the sovereignty should be offered--
   Secret international relations--Mission to England--Unsatisfactory
   negotiations with Elizabeth--Position of the Grand Commander--Siege
   of Zieriekzee--Generosity of Count John--Desperate project of the
   Prince--Death and character of Requesens.

The Council of Troubles, or, as it will be for ever denominated in
history, the Council of Blood, still existed, although the Grand
Commander, upon his arrival in the Netherlands, had advised his sovereign
to consent to the immediate abolition of so odious an institution. Philip
accepting the advice of his governor and his cabinet, had accordingly
authorized him by a letter of the 10th of March, 1574, to take that step
if he continued to believe it advisable.

Requesens had made use of this permission to extort money from the
obedient portion of the provinces. An assembly of deputies was held at
Brussels on the 7th of June, 1574, and there was a tedious interchange of
protocols, reports, and remonstrances. The estates, not satisfied with
the extinction of a tribunal which had at last worn itself out by its own
violence, and had become inactive through lack of victims, insisted on
greater concessions. They demanded the departure of the Spanish troops,
the establishment of a council of Netherlanders in Spain for Netherland
affairs, the restoration to offices in the provinces of natives and
natives only; for these drawers of documents thought it possible, at that
epoch, to recover by pedantry what their brethren of Holland and Zealand
were maintaining with the sword. It was not the moment for historical
disquisition, citations from Solomon, nor chopping of logic; yet with
such lucubrations were reams of paper filled, and days and weeks
occupied. The result was what might have been expected. The Grand
Commander obtained but little money; the estates obtained none of their
demands; and the Blood Council remained, as it were, suspended in
mid-air. It continued to transact business at intervals during the
administration of Requesens, and at last, after nine years of existence,
was destroyed by the violent imprisonment of the Council of State at
Brussels. This event, however, belongs to a subsequent page of this
history.

Noircarmes had argued, from the tenor of Saint Aldegonde's letters, that
the Prince would be ready to accept his pardon upon almost any terms.
Noircarmes was now dead, but Saint Aldegonde still remained in prison,
very anxious for his release, and as well disposed as ever to render
services in any secret negotiation. It will be recollected that, at the
capitulation of Middelburg, it had been distinctly stipulated by the
Prince that Colonel Mondragon should at once effect the liberation of
Saint Aldegonde, with certain other prisoners, or himself return into
confinement. He had done neither the one nor the other. The patriots
still languished in prison, some of them being subjected to exceedingly
harsh treatment, but Mondragon, although repeatedly summoned as an
officer and a gentleman, by the Prince, to return to captivity, had been
forbidden by the Grand Commander to redeem his pledge.

Saint Aldegonde was now released from prison upon parole, and despatched
on a secret mission to the Prince and estates. As before, he was
instructed that two points were to be left untouched--the authority of
the King and the question of religion. Nothing could be more preposterous
than to commence a negotiation from which the two important points were
thus carefully eliminated. The King's authority and the question of
religion covered the whole ground upon which the Spaniards and the
Hollanders had been battling for six years, and were destined to battle
for three-quarters of a century longer. Yet, although other affairs might
be discussed, those two points were to be reserved for the more
conclusive arbitration of gunpowder. The result of negotiations upon such
a basis was easily to be foreseen. Breath, time, and paper were profusely
wasted and nothing gained. The Prince assured his friend, as he had done
secret agents previously sent to him, that he was himself ready to leave
the land, if by so doing he could confer upon it the blessing of peace;
but that all hopes of reaching a reasonable conclusion from the premises
established was futile. The envoy treated also with the estates, and
received from them in return an elaborate report, which was addressed
immediately to the King. The style of this paper was bold and blunt, its
substance bitter and indigestible. It informed Philip what he had heard
often enough before, that the Spaniards must go and the exiles come back,
the inquisition be abolished and the ancient privileges restored, the
Roman Catholic religion renounce its supremacy, and the Reformed religion
receive permission to exist unmolested, before he could call himself
master of that little hook of sand in the North Sea. With this paper,
which was entrusted to Saint Aldegonde, by him to be delivered to the
Grand Commander, who was, after reading it, to forward it to its
destination, the negotiator returned to his prison. Thence he did not
emerge again till the course of events released him, upon the 15th of
October, 1574.

This report was far from agreeable to the Governor, and it became the
object of a fresh correspondence between his confidential agent,
Champagny, and the learned and astute Junius de Jonge, representative of
the Prince of Orange and Governor of Yeere. The communication of De Jonge
consisted of a brief note and a long discourse. The note was sharp and
stinging, the discourse elaborate and somewhat pedantic. Unnecessarily
historical and unmercifully extended, it was yet bold, bitter, and
eloquent: The presence of foreigners was proved to have been, from the
beginning of Philip's reign, the curse of the country. Doctor Sonnius,
with his batch of bishops, had sowed the seed of the first disorder. A
prince, ruling in the Netherlands, had no right to turn a deaf ear to the
petitions of his subjects. If he did so, the Hollanders would tell him,
as the old woman had told the Emperor Adrian, that the potentate who had
no time to attend to the interests of his subjects, had not leisure
enough to be a sovereign. While Holland refused to bow its neck to the
Inquisition, the King of Spain dreaded the thunder and lightning of the
Pope. The Hollanders would, with pleasure, emancipate Philip from his own
thraldom, but it was absurd that he, who was himself a slave to another
potentate, should affect unlimited control over a free people. It was
Philip's councillors, not the Hollanders, who were his real enemies; for
it was they who held him in the subjection by which his power was
neutralized and his crown degraded.

It may be supposed that many long pages, conceived in this spirit and
expressed with great vigor, would hardly smooth the way for the more
official negotiations which were soon to take place, yet Doctor Junius
fairly and faithfully represented the sentiment of his nation.

Towards the close of the year, Doctor Elbertus Leoninus, professor of
Louvain, together with Hugo Bonte, ex-pensionary of Middelburg, was
commissioned by the Grand Commander to treat secretly with the Prince. He
was, however, not found very tractable when the commissioners opened the
subject of his own pardon and reconciliation with the King, and he
absolutely refused to treat at all except with the cooperation of the
estates. He, moreover, objected to the use of the word "pardon" on the
ground that he had never done anything requiring his Majesty's
forgiveness. If adversity should visit him, he cared but little for it;
he had lived long enough, he said, and should die with some glory,
regretting the disorders and oppressions which had taken place, but
conscious that it had not been in his power to remedy them. When reminded
by the commissioners of the King's power, he replied that he knew his
Majesty to be very mighty, but that there was a King more powerful
still--even God the Creator, who, as he humbly hoped, was upon his Side.

At a subsequent interview with Hugo Bonte, the Prince declared it almost
impossible for himself or the estates to hold any formal communication
with the Spanish government, as such communications were not safe. No
trust could be reposed either in safe conducts or hostages. Faith had
been too often broken by the administration. The promise made by the
Duchess of Parma to the nobles, and afterwards violated, the recent
treachery of Mondragon, the return of three exchanged prisoners from the
Hague, who died next day of poison administered before their release, the
frequent attempts upon his own life--all such constantly recurring crimes
made it doubtful, in the opinion of the Prince, whether it would be
possible to find commissioners to treat with his Majesty's government.
All would fear assassination, afterwards to be disavowed by the King and
pardoned by the Pope. After much conversation in this vein, the Prince
gave the Spanish agents warning that he might eventually be obliged to
seek the protection of some foreign power for the provinces. In this
connection he made use of the memorable metaphor, so often repeated
afterwards, that "the country was a beautiful damsel, who certainly did
not lack suitors able and willing to accept her and defend her against
the world." As to the matter of religion, he said he was willing to leave
it to be settled by the estates-general; but doubted whether anything
short of entire liberty of worship would ever satisfy the people.

Subsequently there were held other conferences, between the Prince and
Doctor Leoninus, with a similar result, all attempts proving fruitless to
induce him to abandon his position upon the subject of religion, or to
accept a pardon on any terms save the departure of the foreign troops,
the assembling of the estates-general, and entire freedom of religion.
Even if he were willing to concede the religious question himself, he
observed that it was idle to hope either from the estates or people a
hand's-breadth of concession upon that point. Leoninus was subsequently
admitted to a secret conference with the estates of Holland, where his
representations were firmly met by the same arguments as those already
used by the Prince.

These proceedings on the part of Saint Aldegonde, Champagny, Junius, and
Elbertus Leoninus extended through the whole summer and autumn of 1574,
and were not terminated until January of the following year.

Changes fast becoming necessary in the internal government of the
provinces, were also undertaken during this year. Hitherto the Prince had
exercised his power under the convenient fiction of the King's authority,
systematically conducting the rebellion in the name of his Majesty, and
as his Majesty's stadholder. By this process an immense power was lodged
in his hands; nothing less, indeed, than the supreme executive and
legislative functions of the land; while since the revolt had become, as
it were, perpetual, ample but anomalous functions had been additionally
thrust upon him by the estates and by the general voice of the people.

The two provinces, even while deprived of Harlem and Amsterdam, now
raised two hundred and ten thousand florins monthly, whereas Alva had
never been able to extract from Holland more than two hundred and
seventy-one thousand florins yearly. They paid all rather than pay a
tenth. In consequence of this liberality, the cities insensibly acquired
a greater influence in the government. The coming contest between the
centrifugal aristocratic principle, represented by these corporations,
and the central popular authority of the stadholder, was already
foreshadowed, but at first the estates were in perfect harmony with the
Prince. They even urged upon him more power than he desired, and declined
functions which he wished them to exercise. On the 7th of September,
1573, it had been formally proposed by the general council to confer a
regular and unlimited dictatorship upon him, but in the course of a year
from that time, the cities had begun to feel their increasing importance.
Moreover, while growing more ambitious, they became less liberal.

The Prince, dissatisfied with the conduct of the cities, brought the
whole subject before an assembly of the estates of Holland on the 20th
October, 1574. He stated the inconveniences produced by the anomalous
condition of the government. He complained that the common people had
often fallen into the error that the money raised for public purposes had
been levied for his benefit only, and that they had, therefore, been less
willing to contribute to the taxes. As the only remedy for these evils,
he tendered his resignation of all the powers with which he was clothed,
so that the estates might then take the government, which they could
exercise without conflict or control. For himself, he had never desired
power, except as a means of being useful to his country, and he did not
offer his resignation from unwillingness to stand by the cause, but from
a hearty desire to save it from disputes among its friends. He was ready,
now as ever, to shed the last drop of his blood to maintain the freedom
of the land.

This straightforward language produced an instantaneous effect. The
estates knew that they were dealing with a man whose life was governed by
lofty principles, and they felt that they were in danger of losing him
through their own selfishness and low ambition. They were embarrassed,
for they did not like to, relinquish the authority which they had begun
to relish, nor to accept the resignation of a man who was indispensable.
They felt that to give up William of Orange at that time was to accept
the Spanish yoke for ever. At an assembly held at Delft on the 12th of
November, 1574, they accordingly requested him "to continue in his
blessed government, with the council established near him," and for this
end, they formally offered to him, "under the name of Governor or Regent,"
absolute power, authority, and sovereign command. In particular, they
conferred on him the entire control of all the ships of war, hitherto
reserved to the different cities, together with the right to dispose of
all prizes and all monies raised for the support of fleets. They gave him
also unlimited power over the domains; they agreed that all magistracies,
militia bands, guilds, and communities, should make solemn oath to
contribute taxes and to receive garrisons, exactly as the Prince, with
his council, should ordain; but they made it a condition that the estates
should be convened and consulted upon requests, impositions, and upon all
changes in the governing body. It was also stipulated that the judges of
the supreme court and of the exchequer, with other high officers, should
be appointed by and with the consent of the estates.

The Prince expressed himself willing to accept the government upon these
terms. He, however, demanded an allowance of forty-five thousand florins
monthly for the army expenses and other current outlays. Here, however,
the estates refused their consent. In a mercantile spirit, unworthy the
occasion and the man with whom they were dealing, they endeavoured to
chaffer where they should have been only too willing to comply, and they
attempted to reduce the reasonable demand of the Prince to thirty
thousand florins. The Prince, who had poured out his own wealth so
lavishly in the cause--who, together with his brothers, particularly the
generous John of Nassau, had contributed all which they could raise by
mortgage, sales of jewellery and furniture, and by extensive loans,
subjecting themselves to constant embarrassment, and almost to penury,
felt himself outraged by the paltriness of this conduct. He expressed his
indignation, and denounced the niggardliness of the estates in the
strongest language, and declared that he would rather leave the country
for ever, with the maintenance of his own honor, than accept the
government upon such disgraceful terms. The estates, disturbed by his
vehemence, and struck with its justice, instantly, and without further
deliberation, consented to his demand. They granted the forty-five
thousand florins monthly, and the Prince assumed the government, thus
remodelled.

During the autumn and early winter of the year 1574, the Emperor
Maximilian had been actively exerting himself to bring about a
pacification of the Netherlands. He was certainly sincere, for an
excellent reason. "The Emperor maintains," said Saint Goard, French
ambassador at Madrid, "that if peace is not made with the Beggars, the
Empire will depart from the house of Austria, and that such is the
determination of the electors." On the other hand, if Philip were not
weary of the war, at any rate his means for carrying it on were
diminishing daily. Requesens could raise no money in the Netherlands; his
secretary wrote to Spain, that the exchequer was at its last gasp, and
the cabinet of Madrid was at its wits' end, and almost incapable of
raising ways and means. The peace party was obtaining the upper hand; the
fierce policy of Alva regarded with increasing disfavor. "The people
here," wrote Saint Goard from Madrid, "are completely desperate, whatever
pains they take to put a good face on the matter. They desire most
earnestly to treat, without losing their character." It seemed,
nevertheless, impossible for Philip to bend his neck. The hope of wearing
the Imperial crown had alone made his bigotry feasible. To less potent
influences it was adamant; and even now, with an impoverished exchequer,
and, after seven years of unsuccessful warfare, his purpose was not less
rigid than at first. "The Hollanders demand liberty of conscience," said
Saint Goard, "to which the King will never consent, or I am much
mistaken."

As for Orange, he was sincerely in favor of peace--but not a dishonorable
peace, in which should be renounced all the objects of the war. He was
far from sanguine on the subject, for he read the signs of the times and
the character of Philip too accurately to believe much more in the
success of the present than in that of the past efforts of Maximilian. He
was pleased that his brother-in-law, Count Schwartzburg, had been
selected as the Emperor's agent in the affair, but expressed his doubts
whether much good would come of the proposed negotiations. Remembering
the many traps which in times past had been set by Philip and his father,
he feared that the present transaction might likewise prove a snare. "We
have not forgotten the words I 'ewig' and 'einig' in the treaty with
Landgrave Philip," he wrote; "at the same time we beg to assure his
Imperial Majesty that we desire nothing more than a good peace, tending
to the glory of God, the service of the King of Spain, and the prosperity
of his subjects."

This was his language to his brother, in a letter which was meant to be
shown to the Emperor. In another, written on the same day, he explained
himself with more clearness, and stated his distrust with more energy.
There were no papists left, except a few ecclesiastics, he said; so much
had the number of the Reformers been augmented, through the singular
grace of God. It was out of the question to suppose, therefore, that a
measure, dooming all who were not Catholics to exile, could be
entertained. None would change their religion, and none would consent,
voluntarily, to abandon for ever their homes, friends, and property.
"Such a peace," he said, "would be poor and pitiable indeed."

These, then, were the sentiments of the party now about to negotiate. The
mediator was anxious for a settlement, because the interests of the
Imperial house required it. The King of Spain was desirous of peace, but
was unwilling to concede a hair. The Prince of Orange was equally anxious
to terminate the war, but was determined not to abandon the objects for
which it had been undertaken. A favorable result, therefore, seemed
hardly possible. A whole people claimed the liberty to stay at home and
practice the Protestant religion, while their King asserted the right to
banish them for ever, or to burn them if they remained. The parties
seemed too far apart to be brought together by the most elastic
compromise. The Prince addressed an earnest appeal to the assembly of
Holland, then in session at Dort, reminding them that, although peace was
desirable, it might be more dangerous than war, and entreating them,
therefore, to conclude no treaty which should be inconsistent with the
privileges of the country and their duty to God.

It was now resolved that all the votes of the assembly should consist of
five: one for the nobles and large cities of Holland, one for the estates
of Zealand, one for the small cities of Holland, one for the cities
Bommel and Buren, and the fifth for William of Orange. The Prince thus
effectually held in his hands three votes: his own, that of the small
cities, which through his means only had been admitted to the assembly,
and thirdly, that of Buren, the capital of his son's earldom. He thus
exercised a controlling influence over the coming deliberations. The ten
commissioners, who were appointed by the estates for the peace
negotiations, were all his friends. Among them were Saint Aldegonde, Paul
Buis, Charles Boisot, and Doctor Junius. The plenipotentiaries of the
Spanish government were Leoninus, the Seigneur de Rassinghem, Cornelius
Suis, and Arnold Sasbout.

The proceedings were opened at Breda upon the 3rd of March, 1575. The
royal commissioners took the initiative, requesting to be informed what
complaints the estates had to make, and offering to remove, if possible,
all grievances which they might be suffering. The states' commissioners
replied that they desired nothing, in the first place, but an answer to
the petition which they had already presented to the King. This was the
paper placed in the hands of Saint Aldegonde during the informal
negotiations of the preceding year. An answer was accordingly given, but
couched in such vague and general language as to be quite without
meaning. The estates then demanded a categorical reply to the two
principal demands in the petition, namely, the departure of the foreign
troops and the assembling of the states-general. They, were asked what
they understood by foreigners and by the assembly of states-general. They
replied that by foreigners they meant those who were not natives, and
particularly the Spaniards. By the estates-general they meant the same
body before which, in 1555, Charles had resigned his sovereignty to
Philip. The royal commissioners made an extremely unsatisfactory answer,
concluding with a request that all cities, fortresses, and castles, then
in the power of the estates, together with all their artillery and
vessels of war, should be delivered to the King. The Roman Catholic
worship, it was also distinctly stated, was to be re-established at once
exclusively throughout the Netherlands; those of the Reformed religion
receiving permission, for that time only, to convert their property into
cash within a certain time, and to depart the country.

Orange and the estates made answer on the 21st March. It could not be
called hard, they said, to require the withdrawal of the Spanish troops,
for this had been granted in 1559, for less imperious reasons. The
estates had, indeed, themselves made use of foreigners, but those
foreigners had never been allowed to participate in the government. With
regard to the assembly of the states-general, that body had always
enjoyed the right of advising with the Sovereign on the condition of the
country, and on general measures of government. Now it was only thought
necessary to summon them, in order that they might give their consent to
the King's "requests." Touching the delivery of cities and citadels,
artillery and ships, the proposition was, pronounced to resemble that
made by the wolves to the sheep, in the fable--that the dogs should be
delivered up, as a preliminary to a lasting peace. It was unreasonable to
request the Hollanders to abandon their religion or their country. The
reproach of heresy was unjust, for they still held to the Catholic
Apostolic Church, wishing only to purify, it of its abuses. Moreover, it
was certainly more cruel to expel a whole population than to dismiss
three or four thousand Spaniards who for seven long years had been eating
their fill at the expense of the provinces. It would be impossible for
the exiles to dispose of their property, for all would, by the proposed
measure, be sellers, while there would be no purchasers.

The royal plenipotentiaries, making answer to this communication upon the
1st of April, signified a willingness that the Spanish soldiers should
depart, if the states would consent to disband their own foreign troops.
They were likewise in favor of assembling the states-general, but could
not permit any change in the religion of the country. His Majesty had
sworn to maintain the true worship at the moment of assuming the
sovereignty. The dissenters might, however, be allowed a period of six
months in which to leave the land, and eight or ten years for the sale of
their property. After the heretics had all departed, his Majesty did not
doubt that trade and manufactures would flourish again, along with the
old religion. As for the Spanish inquisition, there was not, and there
never had been, any intention of establishing it in the Netherlands.

No doubt there was something specious in this paper. It appeared to
contain considerable concessions. The Prince and estates had claimed the
departure of the Spaniards. It was now promised that they should depart.
They had demanded the assembling of the states-general. It was now
promised that they should assemble. They had denounced the inquisition.
It was now averred that the Spanish inquisition was not to be
established.

Nevertheless, the commissioners of the Prince were not deceived by such
artifices. There was no parity between the cases of the Spanish soldiery
and of the troops in service of the estates. To assemble the
estates-general was idle, if they were to be forbidden the settlement of
the great question at issue. With regard to the Spanish inquisition, it
mattered little whether the slaughter-house were called Spanish or
Flemish, or simply the Blood-Council. It was, however, necessary for the
states' commissioners to consider their reply very carefully; for the
royal plenipotentiaries had placed themselves upon specious grounds. It
was not enough to feel that the King's government was paltering with
them; it was likewise necessary for the states' agents to impress this
fact upon the people.

There was a pause in the deliberations. Meantime, Count Schwartzburg,
reluctantly accepting the conviction that the religious question was an
insurmountable obstacle to a peace, left the provinces for Germany. The
last propositions of the government plenipotentiaries had been discussed
in the councils of the various cities, so that the reply of the Prince,
and estates was delayed until the 1st of June. They admitted, in this
communication, that the offer to restore ancient privileges had an
agreeable sound; but regretted that if the whole population were to be
banished, there would be but few to derive advantage from the
restoration. If the King would put an end to religious persecution, he
would find as much loyalty in the provinces as his forefathers had found.
It was out of the question, they said, for the states to disarm and to
deliver up their strong places, before the Spanish soldiery had retired,
and before peace had been established. It was their wish to leave the
question of religion, together with all other disputed matters, to the
decision of the assembly. Were it possible, in the meantime, to devise
any effectual method for restraining hostilities, it would gladly be
embraced.

On the 8th of July, the royal commissioners inquired what guarantee the
states would be willing to give, that the decision of the general
assembly, whatever it might be, should be obeyed. The demand was answered
by another, in which the King's agents were questioned as to their own
guarantees. Hereupon it was stated that his Majesty would give his word
and sign manual, together with the word and signature of the Emperor into
the bargain. In exchange for these promises, the Prince and estates were
expected to give their own oaths and seals, together with a number of
hostages. Over and above this, they were requested to deliver up the
cities of Brill and Enkhuizen, Flushing and Arnemuyde. The disparity of
such guarantees was ridiculous. The royal word, even when strengthened by
the imperial promise, and confirmed by the autographs of Philip and
Maximilian, was not so solid a security, in the opinion of Netherlanders,
as to outweigh four cities in Holland and Zealand, with all their
population and wealth. To give collateral pledges and hostages upon one
side, while the King offered none, was to assign a superiority to the
royal word, over that of the Prince and the estates which there was no
disposition to recognize. Moreover, it was very cogently urged that to
give up the cities was to give as security for the contract, some of the
principal contracting parties.

This closed the negotiations. The provincial plenipotentiaries took their
leave by a paper dated 13th July, 1575, which recapitulated the main
incidents of the conference. They expressed their deep regret that his
Majesty should insist so firmly on the banishment of the Reformers, for
it was unjust to reserve the provinces to the sole use of a small number
of Catholics. They lamented that the proposition which had been made, to
refer the religious question to the estates, had neither been loyally
accepted, nor candidly refused. They inferred, therefore, that the object
of the royal government had, been to amuse the states, while tine was
thus gained for reducing the country into a slavery more abject than any
which had yet existed. On the other hand, the royal commissioners as
solemnly averred that the whole responsibility for the failure of the
negotiations belonged to the estates.

It was the general opinion in the insurgent provinces that the government
had been insincere from the beginning, and had neither expected nor
desired to conclude a peace. It is probable, however, that Philip was
sincere; so far as it could be called sincerity to be willing to conclude
a peace, if the provinces would abandon the main objects of the war. With
his impoverished exchequer, and ruin threatening his whole empire, if
this mortal combat should be continued many years longer, he could have
no motive for further bloodshed, provided all heretics should consent to
abandon the country. As usual, however, he left his agents in the dark as
to his real intentions. Even Requesens was as much in doubt as to the
King's secret purposes as Margaret of Parma had ever been in former
times.

   [Compare the remarks of Groen v. Prinst., Archives, etc., v 259-
   262; Bor, viii. 606, 615; Meteren, v. 100; Hoofd, g. 410.--Count
   John of Nassau was distrustful and disdainful from the beginning.
   Against his brother's loyalty and the straightforward intentions of
   the estates, he felt that the whole force of the Macchiavelli system
   of policy would be brought to bear with great effect. He felt that
   the object of the King's party was to temporize, to confuse, and to
   deceive. He did not believe them capable of conceding the real
   object in dispute, but he feared lest they might obscure the
   judgment of the plain and well meaning people with whom they had to
   deal. Alluding to the constant attempts made to poison himself and
   his brother, he likens the pretended negotiations to Venetian drugs,
   by which eyesight, hearing, feeling, and intellect were destroyed.
   Under this pernicious influence, the luckless people would not
   perceive the fire burning around them, but would shrink at a
   rustling leaf. Not comprehending then the tendency of their own
   acts, they would "lay bare their own backs to the rod, and bring
   faggots for their own funeral pile."-Archives, etc., v. 131-137.]

Moreover, the Grand Commander and the government had, after all, made a
great mistake in their diplomacy. The estates of Brabant, although
strongly desirous that the Spanish troops should be withdrawn, were
equally stanch for the maintenance of the Catholic religion, and many of
the southern provinces entertained the same sentiments. Had the Governor,
therefore, taken the states' commissioners at their word, and left the
decision of the religious question to the general assembly, he might
perhaps have found the vote in his favor. In this case, it is certain
that the Prince of Orange and his party would have been placed in a very
awkward position.

The internal government of the insurgent provinces had remained upon the
footing which we have seen established in the autumn of 1574, but in the
course of this summer (1575), however, the foundation was laid for the
union of Holland and Zealand, under the authority of Orange. The selfish
principle of municipal aristocracy, which had tended to keep asunder
these various groups of cities, was now repressed by the energy of the
Prince and the strong determination of the people.

In April, 1575, certain articles of union between Holland and Zealand
were proposed, and six commissioners appointed to draw up an ordinance
for the government of the two provinces. This ordinance was accepted in
general assembly of both. It was in twenty articles. It declared that,
during the war the Prince as sovereign, should have absolute power in all
matters concerning the defence of the country. He was to appoint military
officers, high and low, establish and remove garrisons, punish offenders
against the laws of war. He was to regulate the expenditure of all money
voted by the estates. He was to maintain the law, in the King's name, as
Count of Holland, and to appoint all judicial officers upon nominations
by the estates. He was, at the usual times, to appoint and renew the
magistracies of the cities, according to their constitutions. He was to
protect the exercise of the Evangelical Reformed religion, and to
suppress the exercise of the Roman religion, without permitting, however,
that search should be made into the creed of any person. A deliberative
and executive council, by which the jealousy of the corporations had
intended to hamper his government, did not come into more than nominal
existence.

The articles of union having been agreed upon, the Prince, desiring an
unfettered expression of the national will, wished the ordinance to be
laid before the people in their primary assemblies. The estates, however,
were opposed to this democratic proceeding. They represented that it had
been customary to consult; after the city magistracies, only the captains
of companies and the deans of guilds on matters of government. The
Prince, yielding the point, the captains of companies and deans of guilds
accordingly alone united with the aristocratic boards in ratifying the
instrument by which his authority over the two united provinces was
established. On the 4th of June this first union was solemnized.

Upon the 11th of July, the Prince formally accepted the government. He,
however, made an essential change in a very important clause of the
ordinance. In place of the words, the "Roman religion," he insisted that
the words, "religion at variance with the Gospel," should be substituted
in the article by which he was enjoined to prohibit the exercise of such
religion. This alteration rebuked the bigotry which had already grown out
of the successful resistance to bigotry, and left the door open for a
general religious toleration.

Early in this year the Prince had despatched Saint Aldegonde on a private
mission to the Elector Palatine. During some of his visits to that
potentate he had seen at Heidelberg the Princess Charlotte of Bourbon.
That lady was daughter of the Due de Montpensier, the most ardent of the
Catholic Princes of France, and the one who at the conferences of Bayonne
had been most indignant at the Queen Dowager's hesitation to unite
heartily with the schemes of Alva and Philip for the extermination of
the Huguenots. His daughter, a woman of beauty, intelligence, and virtue,
forced before the canonical age to take the religious vows, had been
placed in the convent of Joliarrs, of which she had become Abbess. Always
secretly inclined to the Reformed religion, she had fled secretly from
her cloister, in the year of horrors 1572, and had found refuge at the
court of the Elector Palatine, after which step her father refused to
receive her letters, to contribute a farthing to her support, or even to
acknowledge her claims upon him by a single line or message of affection.

Under these circumstances the outcast princess, who had arrived at the
years of maturity, might be considered her own mistress, and she was
neither morally nor legally bound, when her hand was sought in marriage
by the great champion of the Reformation, to ask the consent of a parent
who loathed her religion and denied her existence. The legality of the
divorce from Anne of Saxony had been settled by a full expression of the
ecclesiastical authority which she most respected; the facts upon which
the divorce had been founded having been proved beyond peradventure.

   [Acte de, cinq Ministres du St. Evangile par lequel ils declarent le
   mariage du Prince d'Orange etre legitime.--Archives, etc., v. 216-
   226.]

Nothing, in truth, could well be more unfortunate in its results than the
famous Saxon marriage, the arrangements for which had occasioned so much
pondering to Philip, and so much diplomatic correspondence on the part of
high personages in Germany, the Netherlands, and Spain. Certainly, it was
of but little consequence to what church the unhappy Princess belonged,
and they must be lightly versed in history or in human nature who can
imagine these nuptials to have exercised any effect upon the religious or
political sentiments of Orange. The Princess was of a stormy,
ill-regulated nature; almost a lunatic from the beginning. The dislike
which succeeded to her fantastic fondness for the Prince, as well as her
general eccentricity, had soon become the talk of all the court at
Brussels. She would pass week after week without emerging from her
chamber, keeping the shutters closed and candles burning, day and night.
She quarrelled violently, with Countess Egmont for precedence, so that
the ludicrous contentions of the two ladies in antechambers and doorways
were the theme and the amusement of society. Her insolence, not only in
private but in public, towards her husband became intolerable: "I could
not do otherwise than bear it with sadness and patience," said the
Prince, with great magnanimity, "hoping that with age would come
improvement." Nevertheless, upon one occasion, at a supper party, she had
used such language in the presence of Count Horn and many other nobles,
"that all wondered that he could endure the abusive terms which she
applied to him."

When the clouds gathered about him, when he had become an exile and a
wanderer, her reproaches and her violence increased. The sacrifice of
their wealth, the mortgages and sales which he effected of his estates,
plate, jewels, and furniture, to raise money for the struggling country,
excited her bitter resentment. She separated herself from him by degrees,
and at last abandoned him altogether. Her temper became violent to
ferocity. She beat her servants with her hands and with clubs; she
threatened the lives of herself, of her attendants, of Count John of
Nassau, with knives and daggers, and indulged in habitual profanity and
blasphemy, uttering frightful curses upon all around. Her original
tendency to intemperance had so much increased, that she was often unable
to stand on her feet. A bottle of wine, holding more than a quart, in the
morning, and another in the evening, together with a pound of sugar, was
her usual allowance. She addressed letters to Alva complaining that her
husband had impoverished himself "in his good-for-nothing Beggar war,"
and begging the Duke to furnish her with a little ready money and with
the means of arriving at the possession of her dower.

An illicit connexion with a certain John Rubens, an exiled magistrate of
Antwerp, and father of the celebrated painter, completed the list of her
delinquencies, and justified the marriage of the Prince with Charlotte de
Bourbon. It was therefore determined by the Elector of Saxony and the
Landgrave William to remove her from the custody of the Nassaus. This
took place with infinite difficulty, at the close of the year 1575.
Already, in 1572; Augustus had proposed to the Landgrave that she should
be kept in solitary confinement, and that a minister should preach to her
daily through the grated aperture by which her, food was to be admitted.
The Landgrave remonstrated at so inhuman a proposition, which was,
however, carried into effect. The wretched Princess, now completely a
lunatic, was imprisoned in the electoral palace, in a chamber where the
windows were walled up and a small grating let into the upper part of the
door. Through this wicket came her food, as well as the words of the holy
man appointed to preach daily for her edification.

Two years long, she endured this terrible punishment, and died mad, on
the 18th of December, 1577. On the following day, she was buried in the
electoral tomb at Meissen; a pompous procession of "school children,
clergy, magistrates, nobility, and citizens" conducting her to that rest
of which she could no longer be deprived by the cruelty of man nor her
own violent temperament.

   [It can certainly be considered no violation of the sanctity of
   archives to make these slender allusions to a tale, the main
   features of which have already been published, not only by MM. Groan
   v. Prinsterer and Bakhuyzen, in Holland, but by the Saxon Professor
   Bottiger, in Germany. It is impossible to understand the character
   and career of Orange, and his relations with Germany, without a
   complete view of the Saxon marriage. The extracts from the
   "geomantic letters" of Elector Augustus, however, given in Bottiger
   (Hist. Taschenb. 1836, p. 169-173), with their furious attacks upon
   the Prince and upon Charlotte of Bourbon, seem to us too obscene to
   be admitted, even in a note to these pages, and in a foreign
   language.]

So far, therefore, as the character of Mademoiselle de Bourbon and the
legitimacy of her future offspring were concerned, she received ample
guarantees. For the rest, the Prince, in a simple letter, informed her
that he was already past his prime, having reached his forty-second year,
and that his fortune was encumbered not only with settlements for his,
children by previous marriages, but by debts contracted in the cause of
his oppressed country. A convention of doctors and bishops of France;
summoned by the Duc de Montpensier, afterwards confirmed the opinion that
the conventual vows of the Princess Charlotte had been conformable
neither to the laws of France nor to the canons of the Trent Council. She
was conducted to Brill by Saint Aldegonde, where she was received by her
bridegroom, to whom she was united on the 12th of June. The wedding
festival was held at Dort with much revelry and holiday making, "but
without dancing."

In this connexion, no doubt the Prince consulted his inclination only.
Eminently domestic in his habits, he required the relief of companionship
at home to the exhausting affairs which made up his life abroad. For
years he had never enjoyed social converse, except at long intervals,
with man or woman; it was natural, therefore, that he should contract
this marriage. It was equally natural that he should make many enemies by
so impolitic a match. The Elector Palatine, who was in place of guardian
to the bride, decidedly disapproved, although he was suspected of
favoring the alliance. The Landgrave of Hesse for a time was furious; the
Elector of Saxony absolutely delirious with rage. The Diet of the Empire
was to be held within a few weeks at Frankfort, where it was very certain
that the outraged and influential Elector would make his appearance,
overflowing with anger, and determined to revenge upon the cause of the
Netherland Reformation the injury which he had personally received. Even
the wise, considerate, affectionate brother, John of Nassau, considered
the marriage an act of madness. He did what he could, by argument and
entreaty, to dissuade the Prince from its completion; although he
afterwards voluntarily confessed that the Princess Charlotte had been
deeply calumniated, and was an inestimable treasure to his brother. The
French government made use of the circumstance to justify itself in a
still further alienation from the cause of the Prince than it had
hitherto manifested, but this was rather pretence than reality.

It was not in the nature of things, however, that the Saxon and Hessian
indignation could be easily allayed. The Landgrave was extremely violent.
"Truly, I cannot imagine," he wrote to the Elector of Saxony, "quo
consilio that wiseacre of an Aldegonde, and whosoever else has been
aiding and abetting, have undertaken this affair. Nam si pietatem
respicias, it is to be feared that, considering she is a Frenchwoman, a
nun, and moreover a fugitive nun, about whose chastity there has been
considerable question, the Prince has got out of the frying-pan into the
fire. Si formam it is not to be supposed that it was her beauty which
charmed him, since, without doubt, he must be rather frightened than
delighted, when he looks upon her. Si spem prolis, the Prince has
certainly only too many heirs already, and ought to wish that he had
neither wife nor children. Si amicitiam, it is not to be supposed, while
her father expresses himself in such threatening language with regard to
her, that there will be much cordiality of friendship on his part. Let
them look to it, then, lest it fare with them no better than with the
Admiral, at his Paris wedding; for those gentlemen can hardly forgive
such injuries, sine mercurio et arsenico sublimato."

The Elector of Saxony was frantic with choler, and almost ludicrous in
the vehemence of its expression. Count John was unceasing in his
exhortations to his brother to respect the sensitiveness of these
important personages, and to remember how much good and how much evil it
was in their power to compass, with regard to himself and to the great
cause of the Protestant religion. He reminded him, too, that the divorce
had not been, and would not be considered impregnable as to form, and
that much discomfort and detriment was likely to grow out of the whole
proceeding, for himself and his family. The Prince, however, was
immovable in his resolution, and from the whole tone of his
correspondence and deportment it was obvious that his marriage was one
rather of inclination than of policy. "I can assure you, my brother," he
wrote to Count John, "that my character has always tended to this--to
care neither for words nor menaces in any matter where I can act with a
clear conscience, and without doing injury to my neighbour. Truly, if I
had paid regard to the threats of princes, I should never have embarked
in so many dangerous affairs, contrary to the will of the King, my
master, in times past, and even to the advice of many of my relatives and
friends."

The evil consequences which had been foreseen were not slow to manifest
themselves. There was much discussion of the Prince's marriage at the
Diet of Frankfort, and there was even a proposition, formally to declare
the Calvinists excluded in Germany from the benefits of the Peace of
Passau. The Archduke Rudolph was soon afterwards elected King of the
Romans and of Bohemia, although hitherto, according to the policy of the
Prince of Orange, and in the expectation of benefit to the cause of the
Reformation in Germany and the Netherlands, there has been a strong
disposition to hold out hopes to Henry the Third, and to excite the fears
of Maximilian.

While these important affairs, public and private, had been occurring in
the south of Holland and in Germany, a very nefarious transaction had
disgraced the cause of the patriot party in the northern quarter.
Diedrich Sonoy, governor of that portion of Holland, a man of great
bravery but of extreme ferocity of character, had discovered an extensive
conspiracy among certain of the inhabitants, in aid of an approaching
Spanish invasion. Bands of land-loupers had been employed, according to
the intimation which he had received or affected to have received, to set
fire to villages and towns in every direction, to set up beacons, and to
conduct a series of signals by which the expeditions about to be
organized were to be furthered in their objects. The Governor, determined
to show that the Duke of Alva could not be more prompt nor more terrible
than himself, improvised, of his own authority, a tribunal in imitation
of the infamous Blood-Council. Fortunately for the character of the
country, Sonoy was not a Hollander, nor was the jurisdiction of this
newly established court allowed to extend beyond very narrow limits.
Eight vagabonds were, however, arrested and doomed to tortures the most
horrible, in order to extort from them confessions implicating persons of
higher position in the land than themselves. Seven, after a few turns of
the pulley and the screw, confessed all which they were expected to
confess, and accused all whom they were requested to accuse. The eighth
was firmer, and refused to testify to the guilt of certain respectable
householders, whose names he had, perhaps, never heard, and against whom
there was no shadow of evidence. He was, however, reduced by three hours
and a half of sharp torture to confess, entirely according to their
orders, so that accusations and evidence were thus obtained against
certain influential gentlemen of the province, whose only crime was a
secret adherence to the Catholic Faith.

The eight wretches who had been induced by promises of unconditional
pardon upon one hand, and by savage torture on the other, to bear this
false witness, were condemned to be burned alive, and on their way to the
stake, they all retracted the statements which had only been extorted
from them by the rack. Nevertheless, the individuals who had been thus
designated, were arrested. Charged with plotting a general conflagration
of the villages and farmhouses, in conjunction with an invasion by
Hierges and other Papist generals, they indignantly protested their
innocence; but two of them, a certain Kopp Corneliszoon, and his son,
Nanning Koppezoon, were selected to undergo the most cruel torture which
had yet been practised in the Netherlands. Sonoy, to his eternal shame,
was disposed to prove that human ingenuity to inflict human misery had
not been exhausted in the chambers of the Blood Council, for it was to be
shown that Reformers were capable of giving a lesson even to inquisitors
in this diabolical science. Kopp, a man advanced in years, was tortured
during a whole day. On the following morning he was again brought to the
rack, but the old man was too weak to endure all the agony which his
tormentors had provided for him. Hardly had he been placed upon the bed
of torture than he calmly expired, to the great indignation of the
tribunal. "The Devil has broken his neck and carried him off to hell,"
cried they ferociously. "Nevertheless, that shall not prevent him from
being hung and quartered." This decree of impotent vengeance was
accordingly executed. The son of Kopp, however, Nanning Koppezoon, was a
man in the full vigor of his years. He bore with perfect fortitude a
series of incredible tortures, after which, with his body singed from
head to heel, and his feet almost entirely flayed, he was left for six
weeks to crawl about his dungeon on his knees. He was then brought back
to the torture-room, and again stretched upon the rack, while a large
earthen vessel, made for the purpose, was placed, inverted, upon his
naked body. A number of rats were introduced under this cover, and hot
coals were heaped upon the vessel, till the rats, rendered furious by the
heat, gnawed into the very bowels of the victim, in their agony to
escape.

   [Bor (viii. 628) conscientiously furnishes diagrams of the
   machinery by aid of which this devilish cruelty was inflicted. The
   rats were sent by the Governor himself.--Vide Letter of the
   Commissioners to Sonoy, apud Bor, viii. 640, 641. The whole letter
   is a wonderful monument of barbarity. The incredible tortures to
   which the poor creatures had been subjected are detailed in a
   business-like manner, as though the transactions were quite regular
   and laudable, The Commissioners conclude with pious wishes for the
   Governor's welfare: "Noble, wise, virtuous, and very discreet sir,"
   they say, "we have wished to apprise you of the foregoing, and we
   now pray that God Almighty may spare you in a happy, healthy and
   long-continued government"--It will be seen, however, that the wise,
   virtuous, and very discreet Governor, who thus caused his fellow-
   citizens bowels to be gnawed by rats, was not allowed to remain much
   longer in his "happy and healthy government"]

The holes thus torn in his bleeding flesh were filled with red-hot coals.
He was afterwards subjected to other tortures too foul to relate; nor was
it till he had endured all this agony, with a fortitude which seemed
supernatural, that he was at last discovered to be human. Scorched;
bitten, dislocated in every joint, sleepless, starving, perishing with
thirst, he was at last crushed into a false confession, by a promise of
absolute forgiveness. He admitted everything which was brought to his
charge, confessing a catalogue of contemplated burnings and beacon
firings of which he had never dreamed, and avowing himself in league with
other desperate Papists, still more dangerous than himself.

Notwithstanding the promises of pardon, Nanning was then condemned to
death. The sentence ordained that his heart should be torn from his
living bosom, and thrown in his face, after which his head was to be
taken off and exposed on the church steeple of his native village. His
body was then to be cut in four, and a quarter fastened upon different
towers of the city of Alkmaar, for it was that city, recently so famous
for its heroic resistance to the Spanish army, which was now sullied by
all this cold-blooded atrocity. When led to execution, the victim
recanted indignantly the confessions forced from him by weakness of body,
and exonerated the persons whom he had falsely accused. A certain
clergyman, named Jurian Epeszoon, endeavored by loud praying to drown his
voice, that the people might not rise with indignation, and the dying
prisoner with his last breath solemnly summoned this unworthy pastor of
Christ Jo meet him within three days before the judgment-seat of God. It
is a remarkable and authentic fact, that the clergyman thus summoned,
went home pensively from the place of execution, sickened immediately and
died upon the appointed day.

Notwithstanding this solemn recantation, the persons accused were
arrested, and in their turn subjected to torture, but the affair now
reached the ears of Orange. His peremptory orders, with the universal
excitement produced in the neighbourhood, at last checked the course of
the outrage, and the accused persons were remanded to prison, where they
remained till liberated by the Pacification of Ghent. After their release
they commenced legal proceedings against Sonoy, with a view of
establishing their own innocence, and of bringing the inhuman functionary
to justice. The process languished, however, and was finally abandoned,
for the powerful Governor had rendered such eminent service in the cause
of liberty, that it was thought unwise to push him to extremity. It is no
impeachment upon the character of the Prince that these horrible crimes
were not prevented. It was impossible for him to be omnipresent. Neither
is it just to consider the tortures and death thus inflicted upon
innocent men an indelible stain upon the cause of liberty. They were the
crimes of an individual who had been useful, but who, like the Count De
la Marck, had now contaminated his hand with the blood of the guiltless.
The new tribunal never took root, and was abolished as soon as its
initiatory horrors were known.

On the 19th of July, Oudewater, entirely unprepared for such an event,
was besieged by Hierges, but the garrison and the population, although
weak, were brave. The town resisted eighteen days, and on the 7th of
August was carried by assault, after which the usual horrors were fully
practised, after which the garrison was put to the sword, and the
townspeople fared little better. Men, women, and children were murdered
in cold blood, or obliged to purchase their lives by heavy ransoms, while
matrons and maids were sold by auction to the soldiers at two or three
dollars each. Almost every house in the city was burned to the ground,
and these horrible but very customary scenes having been enacted, the
army of Hierges took its way to Schoonhoven. That city, not defending
itself, secured tolerable terms of capitulation, and surrendered on the
24th of August.

The Grand Commander had not yet given up the hope of naval assistance
from Spain, notwithstanding the abrupt termination to the last expedition
which had been organized. It was, however, necessary that a foothold
should be recovered upon the seaboard, before a descent from without
could be met with proper co-operation from the land forces withal; and he
was most anxious, therefore, to effect the reconquest of some portion of
Zealand. The island of Tholen was still Spanish, and had been so since
the memorable expedition of Mondragon to South Beveland. From this
interior portion of the archipelago the Governor now determined to
attempt an expedition against the outer and more important territory. The
three principal islands were Tholen; Duiveland, and Sehouwen. Tholen was
the first which detached itself from the continent. Neat, and separated
from it by a bay two leagues in width, was Duiveland, or the Isle of
Doves. Beyond, and parted by a narrower frith, was Schouwen, fronting
directly upon the ocean, fortified by its strong capital city;
Zieriekzee, and containing other villages of inferior consequence.

Requesens had been long revolving in his mind the means of possessing
himself of this important, island. He had caused to be constructed, a
numerous armada of boats and light vessels of various dimensions, and he
now came to Tholew to organize the expedition. His prospects were at
first not flattering, for the gulfs and estuaries swarmed with Zealand
vessels, manned by crews celebrated for their skill and audacity.
Traitors, however, from Zealand itself now came forward to teach the
Spanish Commander how to strike at the heart of their own country. These
refugees explained to Requesens that a narrow flat extended under the sea
from Philipsland, a small and uninhabited islet situate close to Tholen,
as far as the shore of Duiveland. Upon this submerged tongue of land the
water, during ebb-tide, was sufficiently shallow to be waded, and it
would therefore be possible for a determined band, under cover of the
night, to make the perilous passage. Once arrived at Duiveland, they
could more easily cross the intervening creek to Schouwen, which was not
so deep and only half as wide, so that a force thus, sent through these
dangerous shallows, might take possession of Duiveland and lay siege to
Zierickzee, in the very teeth of the Zealand fleet, which would be unable
to sail near enough to intercept their passage.

The Commander determined that the enterprise should be attempted. It was
not a novelty, because Mondragon, as we have seen, had already most
brilliantly conducted a very similar expedition. The present was,
however, a much more daring scheme. The other exploit, although
sufficiently hazardous, and entirely, successful, had been a victory
gained over the sea alone. It had been a surprise, and had been effected
without any opposition from human enemies. Here, however, they were to
deal, not only with the ocean and darkness, but with a watchful and
determined foe. The Zealanders were aware that the enterprise was in
contemplation, and their vessels lay about the contiguous waters in
considerable force. Nevertheless, the determination of the Grand
Commander was hailed with enthusiasm by his troops. Having satisfied
himself by personal experiment that the enterprise was possible, and that
therefore his brave soldiers could accomplish it, he decided that the
glory of the achievement should be fairly shared, as before, among the
different nations which served the King.

After completing his preparations, Requesens came to Tholen, at which
rendezvous were assembled three thousand infantry, partly Spaniards,
partly Germans, partly Walloons. Besides these, a picked corps of two
hundred sappers and miners was to accompany the expedition, in order that
no time might be lost in fortifying themselves as soon as they had seized
possession of Schouwen. Four hundred mounted troopers were, moreover,
stationed in the town of Tholen, while the little fleet, which had been
prepared at Antwerp; lay near that city ready to co-operate with the land
force as soon as they, should complete their enterprise. The Grand
Commander now divided the whole force into two parts: One half was to
remain in the boats, under the command of Mondragon; the other half,
accompanied by the two hundred pioneers, were to wade through the sea
from Philipsland to Duiveland and Schouwen. Each soldier of this
detachment was provided with a pair of shoes, two pounds of powder, and
rations for three days in a canvas bag suspended at his neck. The leader
of this expedition was Don Osorio d'Ulloa, an officer distinguished for
his experience and bravery.

On the night selected for the enterprise, that of the 27th September, the
moon was a day old in its fourth quarter, and rose a little before
twelve. It was low water at between four and five in the morning. The
Grand Commander, at the appointed hour of midnight, crossed to
Philipsland, and stood on the shore to watch the setting forth of the
little army. He addressed a short harangue to them, in which he
skillfully struck the chords of Spanish chivalry, and the national love
of glory, and was answered with loud and enthusiastic cheers. Don Osorio
d'Ulloa then stripped and plunged into the sea immediately after the
guides. He was followed by the Spaniards, after whom came the Germans and
then the Walloons. The two hundred sappers and miners came next, and Don
Gabriel Peralta, with his Spanish company; brought up the rear. It was a
wild night. Incessant lightning, alternately revealed and obscured the
progress of the midnight march through the black waters, as the anxious
Commander watched the expedition from the shore, but the soldiers were
quickly swallowed up in the gloom. As they advanced cautiously, two by
two, the daring adventurers found themselves soon nearly up to their
necks in the waves, while so narrow was the submerged bank along which
they were marching, that a misstep to the right or left was fatal.
Luckless individuals repeatedly sank to rise no more. Meantime, as the
sickly light, of the waning moon came forth at intervals through the
stormy clouds the soldiers could plainly perceive the files of Zealand
vessels through which they were to march, and which were anchored as
close to the flat as the water would allow. Some had recklessly stranded
themselves, in their eagerness to interrupt the passage, of the troops,
and the artillery played unceasingly from the larger vessels. Discharges
of musketry came continually from all, but the fitful lightning rendered
the aim difficult and the fire comparatively harmless while the Spaniards
were, moreover, protected, as to a large part of their bodies, by the
water in which they were immersed.

At times; they halted for breath, or to engage in fierce skirmishes with
their nearest assailants. Standing breast-high in the waves, and
surrounded at intervals by total darkness, they were yet able to pour an
occasional well-directed volley into the hostile ranks. The Zealanders,
however, did, not assail them with fire-arms alone. They transfixed some
with their fatal harpoons; they dragged others from the path with
boathooks; they beat out the brains of others with heavy flails. Many
were the mortal duels thus fought in the darkness, and, as it were, in
the bottom of the sea; many were the deeds of audacity which no eye was
to mark save those by whom they were achieved. Still, in spite of all
impediments and losses, the Spaniards steadily advanced. If other arms
proved less available, they were attached by the fierce taunts and
invectives of their often invisible foes who reviled them as water-dogs,
fetching and carrying for a master who despised them; as mercenaries who
coined their blood for gold, and were employed by tyrants for the basest
uses. If stung by these mocking voices, they turned in the darkness to
chastise their unseen tormentors, they were certain to be trampled upon
by their comrades, and to be pushed from their narrow pathway into the
depths of the sea. Thus many perished.

The night wore on, and the adventurers still fought it out manfully, but
very slowly, the main body of Spaniards, Germans, and Walloons, soon
after daylight, reaching the opposite shore, having sustained
considerable losses, but in perfect order. The pioneers were not so
fortunate. The tide rose over them before they could effect their
passage, and swept nearly every one away. The rearguard, under Peralta,
not surprised, like the pioneers, in the middle of their passage, by the
rising tide, but prevented, before it was too late; from advancing far
beyond the shore from which they had departed were fortunately enabled to
retrace their steps.

Don Osorio, at the head of the successful adventurers, now effected his
landing upon Duiveland. Reposing themselves but for an instant after this
unparalleled march through the water, of more than six hours, they took a
slight refreshment, prayed to the Virgin Mary and to Saint James, and
then prepared to meet their new enemies on land. Ten companies of French,
Scotch, and English auxiliaries lay in Duiveland, under the command of
Charles Van Boisot. Strange to relate, by an inexplicable accident, or by
treason, that general was slain by his own soldiers, at the moment when
the royal troops landed. The panic created by this event became intense,
as the enemy rose suddenly, as it were, out of the depths of the ocean to
attack them. They magnified the numbers of their assailants, and fled
terror-stricken in every direction. Same swam to the Zealand vessels
which lay in the neighbourhood; others took refuge in the forts which had
been constructed on the island; but these were soon carried by the
Spaniards, and the conquest of Duiveland was effected.

The enterprise was not yet completed, but the remainder was less
difficult and not nearly so hazardous, for the creek which separated
Duiveland from Schouwen was much narrower than the estuary which they had
just traversed. It was less than a league in width, but so encumbered by
rushes and briers that, although difficult to wade, it was not navigable
for vessels of any kind. This part of the expedition was accomplished
with equal resolution, so that, after a few hours' delay, the soldiers
stood upon the much-coveted island of Schouwen. Five companies of states'
troops, placed to oppose their landing, fled in the most cowardly manner
at the first discharge of the Spanish muskets, and took refuge in the
city of Zierickzee, which was soon afterwards beleaguered.

The troops has been disembarked upon Duiveland from the armada, which had
made its way to the scene of action, after having received, by signal,
information that the expedition through the water had been successful.
Brouwershaven, on the northern side of Schouwen, was immediately reduced,
but Bommenede resisted till the 25th of October, when it was at last
carried by assault, and delivered over to fire and sword. Of the whole
population and garrison not twenty were left alive. Siege was then laid
to Zierickzee, and Colonel Mondragon was left in charge of the
operations. Requesens himself came to Schouwen to give directions
concerning this important enterprise.

Chiapin Vitelli also came thither in the middle of the winter, and was so
much injured by a fall from his litter, while making the tour of the
island, that he died on shipboard during his return to Antwerp. This
officer had gained his laurels upon more than one occasion, his conduct
in the important action near Mons, in which the Huguenot force under
Genlis was defeated, having been particularly creditable. He was of a
distinguished Umbrian family, and had passed his life in camps, few of
the generals who had accompanied Alva to the Netherlands being better
known or more odious to the inhabitants. He was equally distinguished for
his courage, his cruelty, and his corpulence. The last characteristic was
so remarkable that he was almost monstrous in his personal appearance.
His protuberant stomach was always supported in a bandage suspended from
his neck, yet in spite of this enormous impediment, he was personally
active on the battle-field, and performed more service, not only as a
commander but as a subaltern, than many a younger and lighter man.

The siege of Zierickzee was protracted till the following June, the city
holding out with firmness. Want of funds caused the operations to be,
conducted with languor, but the same cause prevented the Prince from
accomplishing its relief. Thus the expedition from Philipsland, the most
brilliant military exploit of the whole war, was attended with important
results. The communication between Walcheren and the rest of Zealand was
interrupted; the province cut in two; a foothold on the ocean; for a
brief interval at least, acquired by Spain. The Prince was inexpressibly
chagrined by these circumstances, and felt that the moment had arrived
when all honorable means were to be employed to obtain foreign
assistance. The Hollanders and Zealanders had fought the battles of
freedom alone hitherto, and had fought them well, but poverty was fast
rendering them incapable of sustaining much longer the unequal conflict.
Offers of men, whose wages the states were to furnish, were refused; as
worse than fruitless. Henry of Navarre, who perhaps deemed it possible to
acquire the sovereignty of the provinces by so barren a benefit, was
willing to send two or three thousand men, but not at his own expense.
The proposition was respectfully declined.

The Prince and his little country, were all alone. "Even if we should not
only see ourselves deserted by all the world, but also all the world
against us," he said, "we should not cease to defend ourselves even to
the last man. Knowing the justice of our cause, we repose, entirely in
the mercy of God." He determined, however, once more to have recourse to
the powerful of the earth, being disposed to test the truth of his
celebrated observation, that "there would be no lack of suitors for the
bride that he had to bestow." It was necessary, in short, to look the
great question of formally renouncing Philip directly in the face.

Hitherto the fiction of allegiance had been preserved, and, even by the
enemies of the Prince, it, was admitted: that it had been retained with
no disloyal intent. The time however, had come when it was necessary to
throw off allegiance, provided another could be found strong enough and
frank enough to accept the authority which Philip had forfeited. The
question was, naturally, between France and England; unless the provinces
could effect their re-admission into the body of the Germanic Empire.
Already in June the Prince had laid the proposition formally before the
states, "whether they should not negotiate with the Empire on the subject
of their admission, with maintenance of their own constitutions," but it
was understood that this plan was not to be carried out, if the
protection of the Empire could be obtained under easier conditions.

Nothing came of the proposition at that time. The nobles and the deputies
of South Holland now voted, in the beginning of the ensuing month, "that
it was their duty to abandon the King, as a tyrant who sought to oppress
and destroy his subjects; and that it behooved them to seek another
protector." This was while the Breda negotiations were still pending, but
when their inevitable result was very visible. There was still a
reluctance at taking the last and decisive step in the rebellion, so that
the semblance of loyalty was still retained; that ancient scabbard, in
which the sword might yet one day be sheathed. The proposition was not
adopted at the diet. A committee of nine was merely appointed to
deliberate with the Prince upon the "means of obtaining foreign
assistance, without accepting foreign authority, or severing their
connexion with his Majesty." The estates were, however, summoned a few
months later, by the Prince, to deliberate on this important matter at
Rotterdam. On the 1st of October he then formally proposed, either to
make terms with their enemy, and that the sooner the better, or else,
once for all, to separate entirely from the King of Spain, and to change
their sovereign, in order, with the assistance and under protection of
another Christian potentate, to maintain the provinces against their
enemies. Orange, moreover, expressed the opinion that upon so important a
subject it was decidedly incumbent upon them all to take the sense of the
city governments. The members for the various municipalities acquiesced
in the propriety of this suggestion, and resolved to consult their
constituents, while the deputies of the nobility also desired to consult
with their whole body. After an adjournment of a few days, the diet again
assembled at Delft, and it was then unanimously resolved by the nobles
and the cities, "that they would forsake the King and seek foreign
assistance; referring the choice to the Prince, who, in regard to the
government, was to take the opinion of the estates."

Thus, the great step was taken, by which two little provinces declared
themselves independent of their ancient master. That declaration,
although taken in the midst of doubt and darkness, was not destined to be
cancelled, and the germ of a new and powerful commonwealth was planted.
So little, however, did these republican fathers foresee their coming
republic, that the resolution to renounce one king was combined with a
proposition to ask for the authority of another. It was not imagined that
those two slender columns, which were all that had yet been raised of
the future stately peristyle, would be strong enough to stand alone. The
question now arose, to what foreign power application should be made. But
little hope was to be entertained from Germany, a state which existed
only in name, and France was still in a condition of religious and
intestine discord. The attitude of revolt maintained by the Duc d'Alencon
seemed to make it difficult and dangerous to enter into negotiations with
a country where the civil wars had assumed so complicated a character,
that loyal and useful alliance could hardly be made with any party. The
Queen of England, on the other hand; dreaded the wrath of Philip, by
which her perpetual dangers from the side of Scotland would be
aggravated, while she feared equally the extension of French authority in
the Netherlands, by which increase her neighbour would acquire an
overshadowing power. She was also ashamed openly to abandon the provinces
to their fate, for her realm was supposed to be a bulwark of the
Protestant religion. Afraid to affront Philip, afraid to refuse the suit
of the Netherlands, afraid to concede as aggrandizement to France, what
course was open to the English Queen. That which, politically and
personally, she loved the best--a course of barren coquetry. This the
Prince of Orange foresaw; and although not disposed to leave a stone
unturned in his efforts to find assistance for his country, he on the
whole rather inclined for France. He, however, better than any man, knew
how little cause there was for sanguine expectation from either source.

It was determined, in the name of his Highness and the estates, first to
send a mission to England, but there had already been negotiations this
year of an unpleasant character with that power. At the request of the
Spanish envoy, the foremost Netherland rebels, in number about fifty,
including by name the Prince of Orange, the Counts of Berg and Culemburg,
with Saint Aldegonde, Boisot, Junius, and others, had been formally
forbidden by Queen Elizabeth to enter her realm. The Prince had, in
consequence, sent Aldegonde and Junius on a secret mission to France, and
the Queen; jealous and anxious, had thereupon sent Daniel Rogers secretly
to the Prince. At the same tine she had sent an envoy to the Grand
Commander, counselling, conciliatory measures; and promising to send a
special mission to Spain with the offer of her mediation, but it was
suspected by those most in the confidence of the Spanish government at
Brussels, that there was a great deal of deception in these proceedings.
A truce for six months having now been established between the Duc
d'Alencon and his brother, it was supposed, that an alliance between
France and England, and perhaps between Alencon and Elizabeth, was on the
carpet, and that a kingdom of the Netherlands was to be the wedding
present of the bride to her husband. These fantasies derived additional
color from the fact that, while the Queen was expressing the most
amicable intentions towards Spain, and the greatest jealousy of France,
the English residents at Antwerp and other cities of the Netherlands, had
received private instructions to sell out their property as fast as
possible, and to retire from the country. On the whole, there was little
prospect either of a final answer, or of substantial assistance from the
Queen.

The envoys to England were Advocate Buis and Doctor Francis Maalzon,
nominated by the estates, and Saint Aldegonde, chief of the mission,
appointed by the Prince. They arrived in England at Christmas-tide.
Having represented to the Queen the result of the Breda negotiations,
they stated that the Prince and the estates, in despair of a secure
peace, had addressed themselves to her as an upright protector of the
Faith, and as a princess descended from the blood of Holland. This
allusion to the intermarriage of Edward III. of England with Philippa,
daughter of Count William III. of Hainault and Holland, would not, it was
hoped, be in vain. They furthermore offered to her Majesty, in case she
were willing powerfully to assist the states, the sovereignty over
Holland and Zealand, under certain conditions.

The Queen listened graciously to the envoys, and appointed commissioners
to treat with them on the subject. Meantime, Requesens sent Champagny to
England, to counteract the effect of this embassy of the estates, and to
beg the Queen to give no heed to the prayers of the rebels, to enter into
no negotiations with them, and to expel them at once from her kingdom.

The Queen gravely assured Champagny "that the envoys were no rebels, but
faithful subjects of his Majesty." There was certainly some effrontery in
such a statement, considering the solemn offer which had just been made
by the envoys. If to renounce allegiance to Philip and to propose the
sovereignty to Elizabeth did not constitute rebellion, it would be
difficult to define or to discover rebellion anywhere. The statement was
as honest, however, as the diplomatic grimace with which Champagny had
reminded Elizabeth of the ancient and unbroken friendship which had
always, existed between herself and his Catholic Majesty. The attempt of
Philip to procure her dethronement and assassination but a few years
before was, no doubt, thought too trifling a circumstance to have for a
moment interrupted those harmonious relations. Nothing came of the
negotiations on either side. The Queen coquetted, as was her custom. She
could not accept the offer of the estates; she could not say them nay.
She would not offend Philip; she would not abandon the provinces; she
would therefore negotiate--thus there was an infinite deal of diplomatic
nothing spun and unravelled, but the result was both to abandon the
provinces and to offend Philip.

In the first answer given by her commissioners to the states' envoys, it
was declared, "that her Majesty considered it too expensive to assume the
protection of both provinces." She was willing to protect them in name,
but she should confer the advantage exclusively on Walcheren in reality.
The defence of Holland must be maintained at the expense of the Prince
and the estates.

This was certainly not munificent, and the envoys insisted upon more
ample and liberal terms. The Queen declined, however, committing herself
beyond this niggardly and inadmissible offer. The states were not willing
to exchange the sovereignty over their country for so paltry a
concession. The Queen declared herself indisposed to go further, at least
before consulting parliament. The commissioners waited for the assembling
of parliament. She then refused to lay the matter before that body, and
forbade the Hollanders taking any steps for that purpose. It was evident
that she was disposed to trifle with the provinces, and had no idea of
encountering the open hostility of Philip. The envoys accordingly begged
for their passports. These were granted in April, 1576, with the
assurance on the part of her Majesty that "she would think more of the
offer made to her after she had done all in her power to bring about an
arrangement between the provinces and Philip."

After the result of the negotiations of Breda, it is difficult to imagine
what method she was likely to devise for accomplishing such a purpose.
The King was not more disposed than during the preceding summer to grant
liberty of religion, nor were the Hollanders more ready than they had
been before to renounce either their faith or their fatherland. The
envoys, on parting, made a strenuous effort to negotiate a loan, but the
frugal Queen considered the proposition quite inadmissible. She granted
them liberty to purchase arms and ammunition, and to levy a few soldiers
with their own money, and this was accordingly done to a limited extent.
As it was not difficult to hire soldiers or to buy gunpowder anywhere, in
that warlike age, provided the money were ready, the states had hardly
reason to consider themselves under deep obligation for this concession.
Yet this was the whole result of the embassy. Plenty of fine words had,
been bestowed, which might or might not have meaning, according to the
turns taken by coming events. Besides these cheap and empty civilities,
they received permission to defend Holland at their own expense; with the
privilege, of surrendering its sovereignty, if they liked, to Queen
Elizabeth-and this was all.

On the 19th of April, the envoys returned to their country, and laid
before the estates the meagre result of their negotiations. Very soon
afterwards, upon an informal suggestion from Henry III. and the Queen
Mother, that a more favorable result might be expected, if the same
applications were made to the Duc d'Alencon which had been received in so
unsatisfactory a manner by Elizabeth, commissioners were appointed to
France. It proved impossible, however, at that juncture, to proceed with
the negotiations, in consequence of the troubles occasioned by the
attitude of the Duke. The provinces were still, even as they had been
from the beginning, entirely alone.

Requesens was more than ever straitened for funds, wringing, with
increasing difficulty, a slender subsidy, from time to time, out of the
reluctant estates of Brabant, Flanders, and the other obedient provinces.
While he was still at Duiveland, the estates-general sent him a long
remonstrance against the misconduct of the soldiery, in answer to his
demand for supplies. "Oh, these estates! these estates!" cried the Grand
Commander, on receiving such vehement reproaches instead of his money;
"may the Lord deliver me from these estates!" Meantime, the important
siege of Zierickzee continued, and it was evident that the city must
fall. There was no money at the disposal of the Prince. Count John, who
was seriously embarrassed by reason of the great obligations in money
which he, with the rest of his family, had incurred on behalf of the
estates, had recently made application to the Prince for his influence
towards procuring him relief. He had forwarded an account of the great
advances made by himself and his brethren in money, plate, furniture, and
endorsements of various kinds, for which a partial reimbursement was
almost indispensable to save him from serious difficulties. The Prince,
however, unable to procure him any assistance, had been obliged him once
more to entreat him to display the generosity and the self-denial which
the country had never found wanting at his hands or at those of his
kindred. The appeal had not been, in vain, but the Count was obviously
not in a condition to effect anything more at that moment to relieve the
financial distress of the states. The exchequer was crippled.

   [The contributions of Holland and Zealand for war expenses amounted
   to one hundred and fifty thousand florins monthly. The pay of a
   captain was eighty florins monthly; that of a lieutenant, forty;
   that of a corporal, fifteen; that of a drummer, fifer, or Minister,
   twelve; that of a common soldier, seven and a half. A captain had
   also one hundred and fifty florins each month to distribute among
   the most meritorious of his company. Each soldier was likewise
   furnished with food; bedding, fire, light, and washing.--Renom de
   France MS, vol. ii. c. 46,]

Holland and Zealand were cut in twain by the occupation of Schouwen and
the approaching fall of its capital. Germany, England, France; all
refused to stretch out their hands to save the heroic but exhaustless
little provinces. It was at this moment that a desperate but sublime
resolution took possession of the Prince's mind. There seemed but one way
left to exclude the Spaniards for ever from Holland and Zealand, and to
rescue the inhabitants from impending ruin. The Prince had long brooded
over the scheme, and the hour seemed to have struck for its fulfilment.
His project was to collect all the vessels, of every description, which
could be obtained throughout the Netherlands. The whole population of the
two provinces, men, women, and children, together with all the moveable
property of the country, were then to be embarked on board this numerous
fleet, and to seek a new home beyond the seas. The windmills were then to
be burned, the dykes pierced, the sluices opened in every direction, and
the country restored for ever to the ocean, from which it had sprung.

It is difficult to say whether the resolution, if Providence had
permitted its fulfilment, would have been, on the whole, better or worse
for humanity and civilization. The ships which would have borne the
heroic Prince and his fortunes might have taken the direction of the
newly-discovered Western hemisphere. A religious colony, planted by a
commercial and liberty-loving race, in a virgin soil, and directed by
patrician but self-denying hands, might have preceded, by half a century,
the colony which a kindred race, impelled by similar motives, and under
somewhat similar circumstances and conditions, was destined to plant upon
the stern shores of New England. Had they directed their course to the
warm and fragrant islands of the East, an independent Christian
commonwealth might have arisen among those prolific regions, superior in
importance to any subsequent colony of Holland, cramped from its birth by
absolute subjection to a far distant metropolis.

The unexpected death of Requesens suddenly dispelled these schemes. The
siege of Zierickzee had occupied much of the Governor's attention, but he
had recently written to his sovereign, that its reduction was now
certain. He had added an urgent request for money, with a sufficient
supply of which he assured Philip that he should be able to bring the war
to an immediate conclusion. While waiting for these supplies, he had,
contrary to all law or reason, made an unsuccessful attempt to conquer
the post of Embden, in Germany. A mutiny had at about the same time,
broken out among his troops in Harlem, and he had furnished the citizens
with arms to defend themselves, giving free permission to use them
against the insurgent troops. By this means the mutiny had been quelled,
but a dangerous precedent established. Anxiety concerning this rebellion
is supposed to have hastened the Grand Commander's death. A violent fever
seized him on the 1st, and terminated his existence on the 5th of March,
in the fifty-first year of his life.

It is not necessary to review elaborately his career, the chief incidents
of which have been sufficiently described. Requesens was a man of high
position by birth and office, but a thoroughly commonplace personage. His
talents either for war or for civil employments were not above
mediocrity. His friends disputed whether he were greater in the field or
in the council, but it is certain that he was great in neither. His
bigotry was equal to that of Alva, but it was impossible to rival the
Duke in cruelty. Moreover, the condition of the country, after seven
years of torture under his predecessor, made it difficult for him, at the
time of his arrival, to imitate the severity which had made the name of
Alva infamous. The Blood Council had been retained throughout his
administration, but its occupation was gone, for want of food for its
ferocity. The obedient provinces had been purged of Protestants; while
crippled, too, by confiscation, they offered no field for further
extortion. From Holland and Zealand, whence Catholicism had been nearly
excluded, the King of Spain was nearly excluded also. The Blood Council
which, if set up in that country, would have executed every living
creature of its population, could only gaze from a distance at those who
would have been its victims. Requesens had been previously distinguished
in two fields of action: the Granada massacres and the carnage of
Lepanto. Upon both occasions he had been the military tutor of Don John
of Austria, by whom he was soon to be succeeded in the government of the
Netherlands. To the imperial bastard had been assigned the pre-eminence,
but it was thought that the Grand Commander had been entitled to a more
than equal share of the glory.

We have seen how much additional reputation was acquired by Requesens in
the provinces. The expedition against Duiveland and Schouwen, was, on the
whole, the most brilliant feat of arms during the war, and its success
reflects an undying lustre on the hardihood and discipline of the
Spanish, German, and Walloon soldiery. As an act of individual audacity
in a bad cause, it has rarely been equalled. It can hardly be said,
however, that the Grand Commander was entitled to any large measure of
praise for the success of the expedition. The plan was laid by Zealand
traitors. It was carried into execution by the devotion of the Spanish,
Walloon, and German troops; while Requesens was only a spectator of the
transaction. His sudden death arrested, for a moment, the ebb-tide in the
affairs of the Netherlands, which was fast leaving the country bare and
desolate, and was followed by a train of unforeseen transactions, which
it is now our duty to describe.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     As the old woman had told the Emperor Adrian
     Beautiful damsel, who certainly did not lack suitors
     Breath, time, and paper were profusely wasted and nothing gained
     Care neither for words nor menaces in any matter
     Distinguished for his courage, his cruelty, and his corpulence
     He had never enjoyed social converse, except at long intervals
     Human ingenuity to inflict human misery
     Peace was desirable, it might be more dangerous than war
     Proposition made by the wolves to the sheep, in the fable
     Rebuked the bigotry which had already grown
     Reformers were capable of giving a lesson even to inquisitors
     Result was both to abandon the provinces and to offend Philip
     Suppress the exercise of the Roman religion
     The more conclusive arbitration of gunpowder




MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Volume 25.

THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC

By John Lothop Motley

1855




CHAPTER IV. 1576

   Assumption of affairs by the state council at Brussels--Hesitation
   at Madrid--Joachim Hopper--Mal-administration--Vigilance of Orange--
   The provinces drawn more closely together--Inequality of the
   conflict--Physical condition of Holland--New act of Union between
   Holland and Zealand--Authority of the Prince defined and enlarged--
   Provincial polity characterized--Generous sentiments of the Prince--
   His tolerant spirit--Letters from the King--Attitude of the great
   powers towards the Netherlands--Correspondence and policy of
   Elizabeth--Secret negotiations with France and Alencon--Confused and
   menacing aspect of Germany--Responsible, and laborious position of
   Orange--Attempt to relieve Zierickzee--Death of Admiral Boisot--
   Capitulation of the city upon honourable terms--Mutiny of the
   Spanish troops in Schouwen--General causes of discontent--Alarming
   increase of the mutiny--The rebel regiments enter Brabant--Fruitless
   attempts to pacify them--They take possession of Alost--Edicts,
   denouncing them, from the state council--Intense excitement in
   Brussels and Antwerp--Letters from Philip brought by Marquis Havre--
   The King's continued procrastination--Ruinous royal confirmation of
   the authority assumed by the state council--United and general
   resistance to foreign military oppression--The German troops and the
   Antwerp garrison, under Avila, join the revolt--Letter of Verdugo--
   A crisis approaching--Jerome de Roda in the citadel--The mutiny
   universal.

The death of Requesens, notwithstanding his four days' illness, occurred
so suddenly, that he had not had time to appoint his successor. Had he
exercised this privilege, which his patent conferred upon him, it was
supposed that he would have nominated Count Mansfeld to exercise the
functions of Governor-General, until the King should otherwise ordain.

In the absence of any definite arrangement, the Council of State,
according to a right which that body claimed from custom, assumed the
reins of government. Of the old board, there were none left but the Duke
of Aerschot, Count Berlaymont, and Viglins. To these were soon added,
however, by royal diploma, the Spaniard, Jerome de Roda, and the
Netherlanders, Assonleville, Baron Rassenghiem and Arnold Sasbout. Thus,
all the members, save one, of what had now become the executive body,
were natives of the country. Roda was accordingly looked askance upon by
his colleagues. He was regarded by Viglius as a man who desired to repeat
the part which had been played by Juan Vargas in the Blood Council, while
the other members, although stanch Catholics, were all of them
well-disposed to vindicate the claim of Netherland nobles to a share in
the government of the Netherlands.

For a time, therefore, the transfer of authority seemed to have been
smoothly accomplished. The Council of State conducted the administration
of the country. Peter Ernest Mansfeld was entrusted with the supreme
military command, including the government of Brussels; and the Spanish
commanders; although dissatisfied that any but a Spaniard should be thus
honored, were for a time quiescent. When the news reached Madrid, Philip
was extremely disconcerted. The death of Requesens excited his
indignation. He was angry with him, not for dying, but for dying at so
very inconvenient a moment. He had not yet fully decided either upon his
successor, or upon the policy to be enforced by his successor. There were
several candidates for the vacant post; there was a variety of opinions
in the cabinet as to the course of conduct to be adopted. In the
impossibility of instantly making up his mind upon this unexpected
emergency, Philip fell, as it were, into a long reverie, than which
nothing could be more inopportune. With a country in a state of
revolution and exasperation, the trance, which now seemed to come over
the government, was like to be followed by deadly effects. The stationary
policy, which the death of Requesens had occasioned, was allowed to
prolong itself indefinitely, and almost for the first time in his life,
Joachim Hopper was really consulted about the affairs of that department
over which he imagined himself, and was generally supposed by others, to
preside at Madrid. The creature of Viglius, having all the subserviency,
with none of the acuteness of his patron, he had been long employed as
chief of the Netherland bureau, while kept in profound ignorance of the
affairs which were transacted in his office. He was a privy councillor,
whose counsels were never heeded, a confidential servant in whom the King
reposed confidence, only on the ground that no man could reveal secrets
which he did not know. This deportment of the King's showed that he had
accurately measured the man, for Hopper was hardly competent for the
place of a chief clerk. He was unable to write clearly in any language,
because incapable of a fully developed thought upon any subject. It may
be supposed that nothing but an abortive policy, therefore, would be
produced upon the occasion thus suddenly offered. "'Tis a devout man,
that poor Master Hopper," said Granvelle, "but rather fitted for platonic
researches than for affairs of state."

It was a proof of this incompetency, that now, when really called upon
for advice in an emergency, he should recommend a continuance of the
interim. Certainly nothing worse could be devised. Granvelle recommended
a reappointment of the Duchess Margaret. Others suggested Duke Eric of
Brunswick, or an Archduke of the Austrian house; although the opinion
held by most of the influential councillors was in favor of Don John of
Austria. In the interests of Philip and his despotism, nothing, at any
rate, could be more fatal than delay. In the condition of affairs which
then existed, the worst or feeblest governor would have been better than
none at all. To leave a vacancy was to play directly into the hands of
Orange, for it was impossible that so skilful an adversary should not at
once perceive the fault, and profit by it to the utmost. It was strange
that Philip did not see the danger of inactivity at such a crisis.
Assuredly, indolence was never his vice, but on this occasion indecision
did the work of indolence. Unwittingly, the despot was assisting the
efforts of the liberator. Viglius saw the position of matters with his
customary keenness, and wondered at the blindness of Hopper and Philip.
At the last gasp of a life, which neither learning nor the accumulation
of worldly prizes and worldly pelf could redeem from intrinsic baseness,
the sagacious but not venerable old man saw that a chasm was daily
widening; in which the religion and the despotism which he loved might
soon be hopelessly swallowed. "The Prince of Orange and his Beggars do
not sleep," he cried, almost in anguish; "nor will they be quiet till
they have made use of this interregnum to do us some immense grievance."
Certainly the Prince of Orange did not sleep upon this nor any other
great occasion of his life. In his own vigorous language, used to
stimulate his friends in various parts of the country, he seized the
swift occasion by the forelock. He opened a fresh correspondence with
many leading gentlemen in Brussels and other places in the Netherlands;
persons of influence, who now, for the first time, showed a disposition
to side with their country against its tyrants. Hitherto the land had
been divided into two very unequal portions. Holland and Zealand were
devoted to the Prince; their whole population, with hardly an individual
exception, converted to the Reformed religion. The other fifteen
provinces were, on the whole, loyal to the King; while the old religion
had, of late years, taken root so rapidly again, that perhaps a moiety of
their population might be considered as Catholic. At the same time, the
reign of terror under Alva, the paler, but not less distinct tyranny of
Requesens, and the intolerable excesses of the foreign soldiery, by which
the government of foreigners was supported, had at last maddened all the
inhabitants of the seventeen provinces. Notwithstanding, therefore, the
fatal difference of religious opinion, they were all drawn into closer
relations with each other; to regain their ancient privileges, and to
expel the detested foreigners from the soil, being objects common to all.
The provinces were united in one great hatred and one great hope.

The Hollanders and Zealanders, under their heroic leader, had well nigh
accomplished both tasks, so far as those little provinces were concerned.
Never had a contest, however, seemed more hopeless at its commencement.
Cast a glance at the map. Look at Holland--not the Republic, with its
sister provinces beyond the Zuyder Zee--but Holland only, with the
Zealand archipelago. Look at that narrow tongue of half-submerged earth.
Who could suppose that upon that slender sand-bank, one hundred and
twenty miles in length, and varying in breadth from four miles to forty,
one man, backed by the population of a handful of cities, could do battle
nine years long with the master of two worlds, the "Dominator Of Asia,
Africa, and America"--the despot of the fairest realms of Europe--and
conquer him at last. Nor was William even entirely master of that narrow
shoal where clung the survivors of a great national shipwreck. North and
South Holland were cut in two by the loss of Harlem, while the enemy was
in possession of the natural capital of the little country, Amsterdam.
The Prince affirmed that the cause had suffered more from the disloyalty
of Amsterdam than from all the efforts of the enemy.

Moreover, the country was in a most desolate condition. It was almost
literally a sinking ship. The destruction of the bulwarks against the
ocean had been so extensive, in consequence of the voluntary inundations
which have been described in previous pages, and by reason of the general
neglect which more vital occupations had necessitated, that an enormous
outlay, both of labor and money, was now indispensable to save the
physical existence of the country. The labor and the money,
notwithstanding the crippled and impoverished condition of the nation,
were, however, freely contributed; a wonderful example of energy and
patient heroism was again exhibited. The dykes which had been swept away
in every direction were renewed at a vast expense. Moreover, the country,
in the course of recent events, had become almost swept bare of its
cattle, and it was necessary to pass a law forbidding, for a considerable
period, the slaughter of any animals, "oxen, cows, calves, sheep, or
poultry." It was, unfortunately, not possible to provide by law against
that extermination of the human population which had been decreed by
Philip and the Pope.

Such was the physical and moral condition of the provinces of Holland and
Zealand. The political constitution of both assumed, at this epoch, a
somewhat altered aspect. The union between the two states; effected in
June, 1575, required improvement. The administration of justice, the
conflicts of laws, and more particularly the levying of monies and troops
in equitable proportions, had not been adjusted with perfect smoothness.
The estates of the two provinces, assembled in congress at Delft,
concluded, therefore, a new act of union, which was duly signed upon the
25th of April, 1576. Those estates, consisting of the knights and nobles
of Holland, with the deputies from the cities and countships of Holland
and Zealand, had been duly summoned by the Prince of Orange. They as
fairly included all the political capacities, and furnished as copious a
representation of the national will, as could be expected, for it is
apparent upon every page of his history, that the Prince, upon all
occasions, chose to refer his policy to the approval and confirmation of
as large a portion of the people as any man in those days considered
capable or desirous of exercising political functions.

The new, union consisted of eighteen articles. It was established that
deputies from all the estates should meet, when summoned by the Prince of
Orange or otherwise, on penalty of fine, and at the risk of measures
binding upon them being passed by the rest of the Congress. Freshly
arising causes of litigation were to be referred to the Prince. Free
intercourse and traffic through the united provinces was guaranteed. The
confederates were mutually to assist each other in preventing all
injustice, wrong, or violence, even towards an enemy. The authority of
law and the pure administration of justice were mutually promised by the
contracting states. The common expenses were to be apportioned among the
different provinces, "as if they were all included in the republic of a
single city." Nine commissioners, appointed by the Prince on nomination
by the estates, were to sit permanently, as his advisers, and as
assessors and collectors of the taxes. The tenure of the union was from
six months to six months, with six weeks notice.

The framers of this compact having thus defined the general outlines of
the confederacy, declared that the government, thus constituted, should
be placed under a single head. They accordingly conferred supreme
authority on the Prince, defining his powers in eighteen articles. He was
declared chief commander by land and sea. He was to appoint all officers,
from generals to subalterns, and to pay them at his discretion. The whole
protection of the land was devolved upon him. He was to send garrisons or
troops into every city and village at his pleasure, without advice or
consent of the estates, magistrates of the cities, or any other persons
whatsoever. He was, in behalf of the King as Count of Holland and
Zealand, to cause justice to be administered by the supreme court. In the
same capacity he was to provide for vacancies in all political and
judicial offices of importance, choosing, with the advice of the estates,
one officer for each vacant post out of three candidates nominated to him
by that body. He was to appoint and renew, at the usual times, the
magistracies in the cities, according to the ancient constitutions. He
was to make changes in those boards, if necessary, at unusual times, with
consent of the majority of those representing the great council and
corpus of the said cities. He was to uphold the authority and
pre-eminence of all civil functionaries, and to prevent governors and
military officers from taking any cognizance of political or judicial
affairs. With regard to religion, he was to maintain the practice of the
Reformed Evangelical religion, and to cause to surcease the exercise of
all other religions contrary to the Gospel. He was, however, not to
permit that inquisition should be made into any man's belief or
conscience, or that any man by cause thereof should suffer trouble,
injury, or hindrance.

The league thus concluded was a confederation between a group of
virtually independent little republics. Each municipality, was, as it
were, a little sovereign, sending envoys to a congress to vote and to
sign as plenipotentiaries. The vote of each city was, therefore,
indivisible, and it mattered little, practically, whether there were one
deputy or several. The nobles represented not only their own order, but
were supposed to act also in behalf of the rural population. On the
whole, there was a tolerably fair representation of the whole nation. The
people were well and worthily represented in the government of each city,
and therefore equally so in the assembly of the estates. It was not till
later that the corporations, by the extinction of the popular element,
and by the usurpation of the right of self-election, were thoroughly
stiffened into fictitious personages which never died, and which were
never thoroughly alive.

At this epoch the provincial liberties, so far as they could maintain
themselves against Spanish despotism, were practical and substantial. The
government was a representative one, in which all those who had the
inclination possessed, in one mode or another, a voice. Although the
various members of the confederacy were locally and practically republics
or self-governed little commonwealths, the general government which they,
established was, in form, monarchical. The powers conferred upon Orange
constituted him a sovereign ad interim, for while the authority of the
Spanish monarch remained suspended, the Prince was invested, not only
with the whole executive and appointing power, but even with a very large
share in the legislative functions of the state.

The whole system was rather practical than theoretical, without any
accurate distribution of political powers. In living, energetic
communities, where the blood of the body politic circulates swiftly,
there is an inevitable tendency of the different organs to sympathize and
commingle more closely than a priori philosophy would allow. It is
usually more desirable than practicable to keep the executive,
legislative, and judicial departments entirely independent of each other.

Certainly, the Prince of Orange did not at that moment indulge in
speculations concerning the nature and origin of government. The Congress
of Delft had just clothed him with almost regal authority. In his hands
were the powers of war and peace, joint control of the magistracies and
courts of justice, absolute supremacy over the army and the fleets. It is
true that these attributes had been conferred upon him ad interim, but it
depended only upon himself to make the sovereignty personal and
permanent. He was so thoroughly absorbed in his work, however, that he
did not even see the diadem which he put aside. It was small matter to
him whether they called him stadholder or guardian, prince or king. He
was the father of his country and its defender. The people, from highest
to lowest, called him "Father William," and the title was enough for him.
The question with him was not what men should call him, but how he should
best accomplish his task.

So little was he inspired by the sentiment of self-elevation, that he was
anxiously seeking for a fitting person--strong, wise, and willing
enough--to exercise the sovereignty which was thrust upon himself, but
which he desired to exchange against an increased power to be actively
useful to his country. To expel the foreign oppressor; to strangle the
Inquisition; to maintain the ancient liberties of the nation; here was
labor enough for his own hands. The vulgar thought of carving a throne
out of the misfortunes of his country seems not to have entered his mind.
Upon one point, however, the Prince had been peremptory. He would have no
persecution of the opposite creed. He was requested to suppress the
Catholic religion, in terms. As we have seen, he caused the expression to
be exchanged for the words, "religion at variance with the Gospel." He
resolutely stood out against all meddling with men's consciences, or
inquiring into their thoughts. While smiting the Spanish Inquisition into
the dust, he would have no Calvinist inquisition set up in its place.
Earnestly a convert to the Reformed religion, but hating and denouncing
only what was corrupt in the ancient Church, he would not force men, with
fire and sword, to travel to heaven upon his own road. Thought should be
toll-free. Neither monk nor minister should burn, drown, or hang his
fellow-creatures, when argument or expostulation failed to redeem them
from error. It was no small virtue, in that age, to rise to such a
height. We know what Calvinists, Zwinglians, Lutherans, have done in the
Netherlands, in Germany, in Switzerland, and almost a century later in
New England. It is, therefore, with increased veneration that we regard
this large and truly catholic mind. His tolerance proceeded from no
indifference. No man can read his private writings, or form a thorough
acquaintance with his interior life, without recognizing him as a deeply
religious man. He had faith unfaltering in God. He had also faith in man
and love for his brethren. It was no wonder that in that age of religious
bigotry he should have been assaulted on both sides. While the Pope
excommunicated him as a heretic, and the King set a price upon his head
as a rebel, the fanatics of the new religion denounced him as a godless
man. Peter Dathenus, the unfrocked monk of Poperingen, shrieked out in
his pulpit that the "Prince of Orange cared nothing either for God or for
religion."

The death of Requesens had offered the first opening through which the
watchful Prince could hope to inflict a wound in the vital part of
Spanish authority in the Netherlands. The languor of Philip and the
procrastinating counsel of the dull Hopper unexpectedly widened the
opening. On the 24th of March letters were written by his Majesty to the
states-general, to the provincial estates, and to the courts of justice,
instructing them that, until further orders, they were all to obey the
Council of State. The King was confident that all would do their utmost
to assist that body in securing the holy Catholic Faith and the implicit
obedience of the country to its sovereign. He would, in the meantime,
occupy himself with the selection of a new Governor-General, who should
be of his family and blood. This uncertain and perilous condition of
things was watched with painful interest in neighbouring countries.

The fate of all nations was more or less involved in the development of
the great religious contest now waging in the Netherlands. England and
France watched each other's movements in the direction of the provinces
with intense jealousy. The Protestant Queen was the natural ally of the
struggling Reformers, but her despotic sentiments were averse to the
fostering of rebellion against the Lord's anointed. The thrifty Queen
looked with alarm at the prospect of large subsidies which would
undoubtedly be demanded of her. The jealous Queen could as ill brook the
presence of the French in the Netherlands as that of the Spaniards whom
they were to expel. She therefore embarrassed, as usual, the operations
of the Prince by a course of stale political coquetry. She wrote to him,
on the 18th of March, soon after the news of the Grand Commander's death,
saying that she could not yet accept the offer which had been made to
her, to take the provinces of Holland and Zealand under her safe keeping,
to assume, as Countess, the sovereignty over them, and to protect the
inhabitants against the alleged tyranny of the King of Spain. She was
unwilling to do so until she had made every effort to reconcile them with
that sovereign. Before the death of Requesens she had been intending to
send him an envoy, proposing a truce, for the purpose of negotiation.
This purpose she still retained. She should send commissioners to the
Council of State and to the new Governor, when he should arrive. She
should also send a special envoy to the King of Spain. She doubted not
that the King would take her advice, when he heard her speak in such
straightforward language. In the meantime, she hoped that they would
negotiate with no other powers.

This was not very satisfactory. The Queen rejected the offers to herself,
but begged that they might, by no means, be made to her rivals. The
expressed intention of softening the heart of Philip by the use of
straightforward language seemed but a sorry sarcasm. It was hardly worth
while to wait long for so improbable a result. Thus much for England at
that juncture. Not inimical, certainly; but over-cautious, ungenerous,
teasing, and perplexing, was the policy of the maiden Queen. With regard
to France, events there seemed to favor the hopes of Orange. On the 14th
of May, the "Peace of Monsieur," the treaty by which so ample but so
short-lived a triumph was achieved by the Huguenots, was signed at Paris.
Everything was conceded, but nothing was secured. Rights of worship,
rights of office, political and civil, religious enfranchisement, were
recovered, but not guaranteed. It seemed scarcely possible that the King
could be in earnest then, even if a Medicean Valois could ever be
otherwise than treacherous. It was almost, certain, therefore, that a
reaction would take place; but it is easier for us, three centuries after
the event, to mark the precise moment of reaction, than it was for the
most far-seeing contemporary to foretell how soon it would occur. In the
meantime, it was the Prince's cue to make use of this sunshine while it
lasted. Already, so soon as the union of 25th of April had been concluded
between Holland and Zealand, he had forced the estates to open
negotiations with France. The provinces, although desirous to confer
sovereignty upon him, were indisposed to renounce their old allegiance to
their King in order to place it at the disposal of a foreigner.
Nevertheless, a resolution, at the reiterated demands of Orange, was
passed by the estates, to proceed to the change of master, and, for that,
purpose, to treat with the King of France, his brother, or any other
foreign potentate, who would receive these provinces of Holland and
Zealand under his government and protection. Negotiations were
accordingly opened with the Duke-of-Anjou, the dilettante leader of the
Huguenots at that remarkable juncture. It was a pity that no better
champion could be looked for among the anointed of the earth than the
false, fickle, foolish Alencon, whose career, everywhere contemptible,
was nowhere so flagitious as in the Netherlands. By the fourteenth
article of the Peace of Paris, the Prince was reinstated and secured in
his principality of Orange; and his other possessions in France. The best
feeling; for the time being, was manifested between the French court and
the Reformation.

Thus much for England and France. As for Germany, the prospects of the
Netherlands were not flattering. The Reforming spirit had grown languid,
from various causes. The self-seeking motives of many Protestant princes
had disgusted the nobles. Was that the object of the bloody wars of
religion, that a few potentates should be enabled to enrich themselves by
confiscating the broad lands and accumulated treasures of the Church? Had
the creed of Luther been embraced only for such unworthy ends? These
suspicions chilled the ardor of thousands, particularly among the greater
ones of the land. Moreover, the discord among the Reformers themselves
waxed daily, and became more and more mischievous. Neither the people nor
their leaders could learn that, not a new doctrine, but a wise toleration
for all Christian doctrines was wanted. Of new doctrines there was no
lack. Lutherans, Calvinists, Flaccianists, Majorists, Adiaphorists,
Brantianists, Ubiquitists, swarmed and contended pell-mell. In this there
would have been small harm, if the Reformers had known what reformation
meant. But they could not invent or imagine toleration. All claimed the
privilege of persecuting. There were sagacious and honest men among the
great ones of the country, but they were but few. Wise William of Hesse
strove hard to effect a concordia among the jarring sects; Count John of
Nassau, though a passionate Calvinist, did no less; while the Elector of
Saxony, on the other hand, raging and roaring like a bull of Bashan, was
for sacrificing the interest of millions on the altar of his personal
spite. Cursed was his tribe if he forgave the Prince. He had done what he
could at the Diet of Ratisbon to exclude all Calvinists from a
participation in the religious peace of Germany, and he redoubled his
efforts to prevent the extension of any benefits to the Calvinists of the
Netherlands. These determinations had remained constant and intense.

On the whole, the political appearance of Germany was as menacing as that
of France seemed for a time favorable to the schemes of Orange. The
quarrels of the princes, and the daily widening schism between Lutherans
and Calvinists, seemed to bode little good to the cause of religious
freedom. The potentates were perplexed and at variance, the nobles
lukewarm and discontented. Among the people, although subdivided into
hostile factions, there was more life. Here, at least, were heartiness of
love and hate, enthusiastic conviction, earnestness and agitation. "The
true religion," wrote Count John, "is spreading daily among the common
men. Among the powerful, who think themselves highly learned, and who sit
in roses, it grows, alas, little. Here and there a Nicodemus or two may
be found, but things will hardly go better here than in France or the
Netherlands."

Thus, then, stood affairs in the neighbouring countries. The prospect was
black in Germany, more encouraging in France, dubious, or worse, in
England. More work, more anxiety, more desperate struggles than ever,
devolved upon the Prince. Secretary Brunynck wrote that his illustrious
chief was tolerably well in health, but so loaded with affairs, sorrows,
and travails, that, from morning till night, he had scarcely leisure to
breathe. Besides his multitudinous correspondence with the public bodies,
whose labors he habitually directed; with the various estates of the
provinces, which he was gradually moulding into an organised and general
resistance to the Spanish power; with public envoys and with secret
agents to foreign cabinets, all of whom received their instructions from
him alone; with individuals of eminence and influence, whom he was
eloquently urging to abandon their hostile position to their fatherland;
and to assist him in the great work which he was doing; besides these
numerous avocations, he was actively and anxiously engaged during the
spring of 1576, with the attempt to relieve the city of Zierickzee.

That important place, the capital of Schouwen, and the key to half
Zealand, had remained closely invested since the memorable expedition to
Duiveland. The Prince had passed much of his time in the neighbourhood,
during the month of May, in order to attend personally to the
contemplated relief, and to correspond daily with the beleaguered
garrison. At last, on the 25th of May, a vigorous effort was made to
throw in succor by sea. The brave Admiral Boisot, hero of the memorable
relief of Leyden, had charge of the expedition. Mondragon had surrounded
the shallow harbor with hulks and chains, and with a loose submerged dyke
of piles and rubbish. Against this obstacle Boisot drove his ship, the
'Red Lion,' with his customary audacity, but did not succeed in cutting
it through. His vessel, the largest of the feet, became entangled: he
was, at the same time, attacked from a distance by the besiegers. The
tide ebbed and left his ship aground, while the other vessels had been
beaten back by the enemy. Night approached; and there was no possibility
of accomplishing the enterprise. His ship was hopelessly stranded. With
the morning's sun his captivity was certain. Rather than fall into the
hands of his enemy, he sprang into the sea; followed by three hundred of
his companions, some of whom were fortunate enough to effect their
escape. The gallant Admiral swam a long time, sustained by a broken spar.
Night and darkness came on before assistance could be rendered, and he
perished. Thus died Louis Boisot, one of the most enterprising of the
early champions of Netherland freedom--one of the bravest precursors of
that race of heroes, the commanders of the Holland navy. The Prince
deplored his loss deeply, as that of a "valiant gentleman, and one well
affectioned to the common cause." His brother, Charles Boisot, as will be
remembered, had perished by treachery at the first landing of the Spanish
troops; after their perilous passage from Duiveland.--Thus both the
brethren had laid down their lives for their country, in this its outer
barrier, and in the hour of its utmost need. The fall of the beleaguered
town could no longer be deferred. The Spaniards were, at last, to receive
the prize of that romantic valor which had led them across the bottom of
the sea to attack the city. Nearly nine months had, however, elapsed
since that achievement; and the Grand Commander, by whose orders it had
been undertaken, had been four months in his grave. He was permitted to
see neither the long-delayed success which crowded the enterprise, nor
the procession of disasters and crimes which were to mark it as a most
fatal success.

On the 21st of June, 1576, Zierickzee, instructed by the Prince of Orange
to accept honorable terms, if offered, agreed to surrender. Mondragon,
whose soldiers were in a state of suffering, and ready to break out in
mutiny, was but too happy to grant an honorable capitulation. The
garrison were allowed to go out with their arms and personal baggage. The
citizens were permitted to retain or resume their privileges and
charters, on payment of two hundred thousand guldens. Of, sacking and
burning there was, on this occasion, fortunately, no question; but the
first half of the commutation money was to be paid in cash. There was but
little money in the impoverished little town, but mint-masters were
appointed by the magistrates to take their seats at once an in the Hotel
de Ville. The citizens brought their spoons and silver dishes; one after
another, which were melted and coined into dollars and half-dollars,
until the payment was satisfactorily adjusted. Thus fell Zierickzee, to
the deep regret of the Prince. "Had we received the least succor in the
world from any side," he wrote; "the poor city should never have fallen.
I could get nothing from France or England, with all my efforts.
Nevertheless, we do not lose courage, but hope that, although abandoned
by all the world, the Lord God will extend His right hand over us."

The enemies were not destined to go farther. From their own hand now came
the blow which was to expel them from the soil which they had so long
polluted. No sooner was Zierickzee captured than a mutiny broke forth
among several companies of Spaniards and Walloons, belonging, to the army
in Schouwen. A large number of the most influential officers had gone to
Brussels, to make arrangements, if possible; for the payment of the
troops. In their absence there was more scope for the arguments of the
leading mutineers; arguments assuredly, not entirely destitute of justice
or logical precision. If ever laborers were worthy of their hire,
certainly it was the Spanish soldiery. Had they not done the work of
demons for nine years long? Could Philip or Alva have found in the wide
world men to execute their decrees with more unhesitating docility, with
more sympathizing eagerness? What obstacle had ever given them pause in
their career of duty? What element had they not braved? Had not they
fought within the bowels of the earth, beneath the depths of the sea,
within blazing cities, and upon fields of ice? Where was the work which
had been too dark and bloody for their performance? Had they not
slaughtered unarmed human beings by townfuls, at the word of command? Had
they not eaten the flesh, and drank the hearts' blood of their enemies?
Had they not stained the house of God with wholesale massacre? What altar
and what hearthstone had they not profaned? What fatigue, what danger,
what crime, had ever checked them for a moment? And for all this
obedience, labor, and bloodshed, were they not even to be paid such wages
as the commonest clown, who only tore the earth at home, received? Did
Philip believe that a few thousand Spaniards were to execute his sentence
of death against three millions of Netherlanders, and be cheated of their
pay at last?

It was in vain that arguments and expostulations were addressed to
soldiers who were suffering from want, and maddened by injustice. They
determined to take their cause into their own hand, as they had often
done before. By the 15th of July, the mutiny was general on the isle of
Schouwen. Promises were freely offered, both of pay and pardon; appeals
were made to their old sense of honor and loyalty; but they had had
enough of promises, of honor, and of work. What they wanted now were
shoes and jerkins, bread and meat, and money. Money they would have, and
that at once. The King of Spain was their debtor. The Netherlands
belonged to the King of Spain. They would therefore levy on the
Netherlands for payment of their debt. Certainly this was a logical
deduction. They knew by experience that this process had heretofore
excited more indignation in the minds of the Netherland people than in
that of their master. Moreover, at this juncture, they cared little for
their sovereign's displeasure, and not at all for that of the
Netherlanders. By the middle of July, then, the mutineers, now entirely
beyond control, held their officers imprisoned within their quarters at
Zierickzee. They even surrounded the house of Mondtagon, who had so often
led them to victory, calling upon him with threats and taunts to furnish
them with money. The veteran, roused to fury by their insubordination and
their taunts, sprang from his house into the midst of the throng. Baring
his breast before them, he fiercely invited and dared their utmost
violence. Of his life-blood, he told them bitterly, he was no niggard,
and it was at their disposal. His wealth, had he possessed any, would
have been equally theirs. Shamed into temporary respect, but not turned
from their purpose by the choler of their chief, they left him to
himself. Soon afterwards, having swept Schouwen island bare of every
thing which could be consumed, the mutineers swarmed out of Zealand into
Brabant, devouring as they went.

It was their purpose to hover for a time in the neighbourhood of the
capital, and either to force the Council of State to pay them their long
arrears, or else to seize and sack the richest city upon which they could
lay their hands. The compact, disciplined mass, rolled hither and
thither, with uncertainty of purpose, but with the same military
precision of movement which had always characterized these remarkable
mutinies. It gathered strength daily. The citizens of Brussels
contemplated with dismay the eccentric and threatening apparition. They
knew that rapine, murder, and all the worst evils which man can inflict
on his brethren were pent within it, and would soon descend. Yet, even
with all their past experience, did they not foresee the depth of woe
which was really impending. The mutineers had discarded such of their
officers as they could not compel to obedience, and had, as usual, chosen
their Eletto. Many straggling companies joined them as they swept to and
fro. They came to Herenthals, where they were met by Count Mansfeld, who
was deputed by the Council of State to treat with them, to appeal to
them; to pardon them, to offer, them everything but money. It may be
supposed that the success of the commander-in-chief was no better than
that of Mondragon and his subalterns. They laughed him to scorn when he
reminded them how their conduct was tarnishing the glory which they had
acquired by nine years of heroism. They answered with their former
cynicism, that glory could be put neither into pocket nor stomach. They
had no use for it; they had more than enough of it. Give them money, or
give them a City, these were their last terms.

Sorrowfully and bodingly Mansfeld withdrew to consult again with the
State Council. The mutineers then made a demonstration upon Mechlin, but
that city having fortunately strengthened its garrison, was allowed to
escape. They then hovered for a time outside the walls of Brussels. At
Grimsberg, where they paused for a short period, they held a parley with
Captain Montesdocca, whom they received with fair words and specious
pretences. He returned to Brussels with the favourable tidings, and the
mutineers swarmed off to Assche. Thither Montesdoeca was again
despatched, with the expectation that he would be able to bring them to
terms, but they drove him off with jeers and threats, finding that he
brought neither money nor the mortgage of a populous city. The next day,
after a feint or two in a different direction, they made a sudden swoop
upon Alost, in Flanders. Here they had at last made their choice, and the
town was carried by storm. All the inhabitants who opposed them were
butchered, and the mutiny, at last established in a capital, was able to
treat with the State Council upon equal terms. They were now between two
and three thousand strong, disciplined, veteran troops, posted in a
strong and wealthy city. One hundred parishes belonged to the
jurisdiction of Alost, all of which were immediately laid under
contribution.

The excitement was now intense in Brussels. Anxiety and alarm had given
place to rage, and the whole population rose in arms to defend the
capital, which was felt to be in imminent danger. This spontaneous
courage of the burghers prevented the catastrophe, which was reserved for
a sister city. Meantime, the indignation and horror excited by the mutiny
were so universal that the Council of State could not withstand the
pressure. Even the women and children demanded daily in the streets that
the rebel soldiers should be declared outlaws. On the 26th of July,
accordingly, the King of Spain was made to pronounce, his Spaniards
traitors and murderers. All men were enjoined to slay one or all of them,
wherever they should be found; to refuse them bread, water, and fire, and
to assemble at sound of bell; in every city; whenever the magistrates
should order an assault upon them. A still more stringent edict was
issued on the 2nd of August; and so eagerly had these degrees been
expected, that they were published throughout Flanders and Brabant almost
as soon as issued. Hitherto the leading officers of the Spanish army had
kept aloof from the insurgents, and frowned upon their proceedings. The
Spanish member of the State Council, Jerome de Roda, had joined without
opposition in the edict. As, however, the mutiny gathered strength on the
outside, the indignation waxed daily within the capital. The citizens of
Brussels, one and all, stood to their arms. Not a man could enter or
leave without their permission. The Spaniards who were in the town,
whether soldiers or merchants, were regarded with suspicion and
abhorrence. The leading Spanish officers, Romero, Montesdocca, Verdugo,
and others, who had attempted to quell the mutiny, had been driven off
with threats and curses, their soldiers defying them and brandishing
their swords in their very faces. On the other hand, they were looked
upon with ill-will by the Netherlanders. The most prominent Spanish
personages in Brussels were kept in a state of half-imprisonment. Romero,
Roda, Verdugo, were believed to favor at heart the cause of their
rebellious troops, and the burghers of Brabant had come to consider all
the King's army in a state of rebellion. Believing the State Council
powerless to protect them from the impending storm, they regarded that
body with little respect, keeping it, as it were, in durance, while the
Spaniards were afraid to walk the streets of Brussels for fear of being
murdered. A retainer of Rods, who had ventured to defend the character
and conduct of his master before a number of excited citizens, was slain
on the spot.

In Antwerp, Champagny, brother of Granvelle, and governor of the city,
was disposed to cultivate friendly relations with the Prince of Orange.
Champagny hated the Spaniards, and the hatred seemed to establish enough
of sympathy between himself and the liberal party to authorize confidence
in him. The Prince dealt with him, but regarded him warily. Fifteen
companies of German troops, under Colonel Altaemst, were suspected of a
strong inclination to join the mutiny. They were withdrawn from Antwerp,
and in their room came Count Uberstein, with his regiment, who swore to
admit no suspicious person inside the gates, and in all things to obey
the orders of Champagny. In the citadel, however, matters were very
threatening. Sancho d'Avila, the governor, although he had not openly
joined the revolt, treated the edict of outlawry against the rebellious
soldiery with derision. He refused to publish a decree which he
proclaimed infamous, and which had been extorted, in his opinion, from an
impotent and trembling council. Even Champagny had not desired or dared
to publish the edict within the city. The reasons alleged were his fears
of irritating and alarming the foreign merchants, whose position was so
critical and friendship so important at that moment. On the other hand,
it was loudly and joyfully published in most other towns of Flanders and
Brabant. In Brussels there were two parties, one holding the decree too
audacious for his Majesty to pardon; the other clamoring for its
instantaneous fulfilment. By far the larger and more influential portion
of the population favored the measure, and wished the sentence of
outlawry and extermination to be extended at once against all Spaniards
and other foreigners in the service of the King. It seemed imprudent to
wait until all the regiments had formally accepted the mutiny, and
concentrated themselves into a single body.

At this juncture, on the last day of July, the Marquis off Havre, brother
to the Duke of Aerschot, arrived out of Spain. He was charged by the King
with conciliatory but unmeaning phrases to the estates. The occasion was
not a happy one. There never was a time when direct and vigorous action
had been more necessary. It was probably the King's desire then, as much
as it ever had been his desire at all, to make up the quarrel with his
provinces. He had been wearied with the policy which Alva had enforced,
and for which he endeavoured at that period to make the Duke appear
responsible. The barren clemency which the Grand Commander had been
instructed to affect, had deceived but few persons, and had produced but
small results. The King was, perhaps, really inclined at this juncture to
exercise clemency--that is to say he was willing to pardon his people for
having contended for their rights, provided they were now willing to
resign them for ever. So the Catholic religion and his own authority,
were exclusively and inviolably secured, he was willing to receive his
disobedient provinces into favor. To accomplish this end, however, he had
still no more fortunate conception than to take the advice of Hopper. A
soothing procrastination was the anodyne selected for the bitter pangs of
the body politic--a vague expression of royal benignity the styptic to be
applied to its mortal wounds. An interval of hesitation was to bridge
over the chasm between the provinces and their distant metropolis. "The
Marquis of Havre has been sent," said the King, "that he may expressly
witness to you of our good intentions, and of our desire, with the grace
of God, to bring about a pacification." Alas, it was well known whence
those pavements of good intentions had been taken, and whither they would
lead. They were not the material for a substantial road to
reconciliation. "His Majesty," said the Marquis; on delivering his report
to the State Council, "has long been pondering over all things necessary
to the peace of the land. His Majesty, like a very gracious and bountiful
Prince, has ever been disposed, in times past, to treat these, his
subjects, by the best and sweetest means." There being, however, room for
an opinion that so bountiful a prince might have discovered sweeter
means, by all this pondering, than to burn and gibbet his subjects by
thousands, it was thought proper to insinuate that his orders had been
hitherto misunderstood. Alva and Requesens had been unfaithful agents,
who did not know their business, but it was to be set right in future.
"As the good-will and meaning of his Majesty has, by no means been
followed," continued the envoy, "his Majesty has determined to send
Councillor Hopper, keeper of the privy seal, and myself, hitherwards, to
execute the resolutions of his Majesty." Two such personages as poor,
plodding, confused; time-serving Hopper, and flighty, talkative Havre,
whom even Requesens despised, and whom Don John, while shortly afterwards
recommending him for a state councillor, characterized, to Philip as "a
very great scoundrel;" would hardly be able, even if royally empowered,
to undo the work of two preceding administrations. Moreover, Councillor
Hopper, on further thoughts, was not despatched at all to the
Netherlands.

The provinces were, however, assured by the King's letters to the Brabant
estates, to the State Council, and other, public bodies, as well as by
the report of the Marquis, that efficacious remedies were preparing in
Madrid. The people were only too wait patiently till they should arrive.
The public had heard before of these nostrums, made up by the royal
prescriptions in Spain; and were not likely to accept them as a panacea
for their present complicated disorders. Never, in truth, had
conventional commonplace been applied more unseasonably. Here was a
general military mutiny flaming in the very centre of the land. Here had
the intense hatred of race, which for years had been gnawing at the heart
of the country, at last broken out into most malignant manifestation.
Here was nearly the whole native population of every province, from grand
seigneur to plebeian, from Catholic prelate to Anabaptist artisan,
exasperated alike by the excesses of six thousand foreign brigands, and
united by a common hatred, into a band of brethren. Here was a State
Council too feeble to exercise the authority which it had arrogated,
trembling between the wrath of its sovereign, the menacing cries of the
Brussels burghers, and the wild threats of the rebellious army; and held
virtually, captive in the capital which it was supposed to govern.

Certainly, the confirmation of the Council in its authority, for an
indefinite, even if for a brief period, was a most unlucky step at this
juncture. There were two parties in the provinces, but one was far the
most powerful upon the great point of the Spanish soldiery. A vast
majority were in favor of a declaration of outlawry against the whole
army, and it was thought desirable to improve the opportunity by getting
rid of them altogether. If the people could rise en masse, now that the
royal government was in abeyance, and, as it were, in the nation's hands,
the incubus might be cast off for ever. If any of the Spanish officers
had been sincere in their efforts to arrest the mutiny, the sincerity was
not believed. If any of the foreign regiments of the King appeared to
hesitate at joining the Alost crew, the hesitation was felt to be
temporary. Meantime, the important German regiments of Fugger,
Fronsberger, and Polwiller, with their colonels and other officers, had
openly joined the rebellion, while there was no doubt of the sentiments
of Sancho d'Avila and the troops under his command. Thus there were two
great rallying-places for the sedition, and the most important fortress
of the country, the key which unlocked the richest city in the world, was
in the hands of the mutineers. The commercial capital of Europe, filled
to the brim with accumulated treasures, and with the merchandize of every
clime; lay at the feet of this desperate band of brigands. The horrible
result was but too soon to be made manifest.

Meantime, in Brussels, the few Spaniards trembled for their lives. The
few officers shut up there were in imminent danger. "As the Devil does
not cease to do his work," wrote Colonel Verdugo, "he has put it into the
heads of the Brabanters to rebel, taking for a pretext the mutiny of the
Spaniards. The Brussels men have handled their weapons so well against
those who were placed there to protect them, that they have begun to kill
the Spaniards, threatening likewise the Council of State. Such is their
insolence, that they care no more for these great lords than for so many
varlets." The writer, who had taken refuge, together with Jerome de Roda
and other Spaniards, or "Hispaniolized" persons, in Antwerp citadel,
proceeded to sketch the preparations which were going on in Brussels, and
the counter measures which were making progress in Antwerp. "The states,"
he wrote, "are enrolling troops, saying 'tis to put down the mutiny; but
I assure you 'tis to attack the army indiscriminately. To prevent such a
villainous undertaking, troops of all nations are assembling here, in
order to march straight upon Brussels, there to enforce everything which
my lords of the State Council shall ordain." Events were obviously
hastening to a crisis--an explosion, before long, was inevitable. "I wish
I had my horses here," continued the Colonel, "and must beg you to send
them. I see a black cloud hanging over our heads. I fear that the
Brabantines will play the beasts so much, that they will have all the
soldiery at their throats."

Jerome de Roda had been fortunate enough to make his escape out of
Brussels, and now claimed to be sole Governor of the Netherlands, as the
only remaining representative of the State Council. His colleagues were
in durance at the capital. Their authority was derided. Although not yet
actually imprisoned, they were in reality bound hand and foot, and
compelled to take their orders either from the Brabant estates or from
the burghers of Brussels. It was not an illogical proceeding, therefore,
that Roda, under the shadow of the Antwerp citadel, should set up his own
person as all that remained of the outraged majesty of Spain. Till the
new Governor, Don Juan, should arrive, whose appointment the King had
already communicated to the government, and who might be expected in the
Netherlands before the close of the autumn, the solitary councillor
claimed to embody the whole Council. He caused a new seal to be struck--a
proceeding very unreasonably charged as forgery by the provincials--and
forthwith began to thunder forth proclamations and counter-proclamations
in the King's name and under the royal seal. It is difficult to see any
technical crime or mistake in such a course. As a Spaniard, and a
representative of his Majesty, he could hardly be expected to take any
other view of his duty. At any rate, being called upon to choose between
rebellious Netherlanders and mutinous Spaniards, he was not long in
making up his mind.

By the beginning of September the mutiny was general. All the Spanish
army, from general to pioneer, were united. The most important German
troops had taken side with them. Sancho d'Avila held the citadel of
Antwerp, vowing vengeance, and holding open communication with the
soldiers at Alost. The Council of State remonstrated with him for his
disloyalty. He replied by referring to his long years of service, and by
reproving them for affecting an authority which their imprisonment
rendered ridiculous. The Spaniards were securely established. The various
citadels which had been built by Charles and Philip to curb the country
now effectually did their work. With the castles of Antwerp,
Valenciennes, Ghent, Utrecht, Culemburg, Viane, Alost, in the hands of
six thousand veteran Spaniards, the country seemed chained in every limb.
The foreigner's foot was on its neck. Brussels was almost the only
considerable town out of Holland and Zealand which was even temporarily
safe. The important city of Maestricht was held by a Spanish garrison,
while other capital towns and stations were in the power of the Walloon
and German mutineers. The depredations committed in the villages, the
open country, and the cities were incessant--the Spaniards treating every
Netherlander as their foe. Gentleman and peasant, Protestant and
Catholic, priest and layman, all were plundered, maltreated, outraged.
The indignation became daily more general and more intense. There were
frequent skirmishes between the soldiery and promiscuous bands of
peasants, citizens, and students; conflicts in which the Spaniards were
invariably victorious. What could such half-armed and wholly untrained
partisans effect against the bravest and most experienced troops in the
whole world? Such results only increased the general exasperation, while
they impressed upon the whole people the necessity of some great and
general effort to throw off the incubus.




CHAPTER V. 1576-1577

   Religious and political sympathies and antipathies in the seventeen
   provinces--Unanimous hatred for the foreign soldiery--Use made by
   the Prince of the mutiny--His correspondence--Necessity of Union
   enforced--A congress from nearly all the provinces meets at Ghent--
   Skirmishes between the foreign troops and partisan bands--Slaughter
   at Tisnacq--Suspicions entertained of the State-Council--Arrest of
   the State-Council--Siege of Ghent citadel--Assistance sent by
   Orange--Maestricht lost and regained--Wealthy and perilous condition
   of Antwerp--Preparations of the mutineers under the secret
   superintendence of Avila--Stupidity of Oberstein--Duplicity of Don
   Sancho--Reinforcements of Walloons under Havre, Egmont, and others,
   sent to for the expected assault of Antwerp--Governor Champagny's
   preparations the mutineers--Insubordination, incapacity, and
   negligence of all but him--Concentration of all the mutineers from
   different points, in the citadel--The attack--the panic--the flight
   --the massacre--the fire--the sack--and other details of the
   "Spanish Fury"--Statistics of murder and robbery--Letter of Orange
   to the states-general--Surrender of Ghent citadel--Conclusion of the
   "Ghent Pacification"--The treaty characterized--Forms of
   ratification--Fall of Zierickzee and recovery of Zealand.

Meantime, the Prince of Orange sat at Middelburg, watching the storm. The
position of Holland and Zealand with regard to the other fifteen
provinces was distinctly characterized. Upon certain points there was an
absolute sympathy, while upon others there was a grave and almost fatal
difference. It was the task of the Prince to deepen the sympathy, to
extinguish the difference.

In Holland and Zealand, there was a warm and nearly universal adhesion to
the Reformed religion, a passionate attachment to the ancient political
liberties. The Prince, although an earnest Calvinist himself, did all in
his power to check the growing spirit of intolerance toward the old
religion, omitted no opportunity of strengthening the attachment which
the people justly felt for their liberal institutions.

On the other hand, in most of the other provinces, the Catholic religion
had been regaining its ascendency. Even in 1574, the estates assembled at
Brussels declared to Requesens "that they would rather die the death than
see any change in their religion." That feeling had rather increased than
diminished. Although there was a strong party attached to the new faith,
there was perhaps a larger, certainly a more influential body, which
regarded the ancient Church with absolute fidelity. Owing partly to the
persecution which had, in the course of years, banished so many thousands
of families from the soil, partly to the coercion, which was more
stringent in the immediate presence of the Crown's representative, partly
to the stronger infusion of the Celtic element, which from the earliest
ages had always been so keenly alive to the more sensuous and splendid
manifestations of the devotional principle--owing to those and many other
causes, the old religion, despite of all the outrages which had been
committed in its name, still numbered a host of zealous adherents in the
fifteen provinces. Attempts against its sanctity were regarded with
jealous eyes. It was believed, and with reason, that there was a
disposition on the part of the Reformers to destroy it root and branch.
It was suspected that the same enginery of persecution would be employed
in its extirpation, should the opposite party gain the supremacy, which
the Papists had so long employed against the converts to the new
religion.

As to political convictions, the fifteen provinces differed much less
from their two sisters. There was a strong attachment to their old
constitutions; a general inclination to make use of the present crisis to
effect their restoration. At the same time, it had not come to be the
general conviction, as in Holland and Zealand, that the maintenance of
those liberties was incompatible with the continuance of Philip's
authority. There was, moreover, a strong aristocratic faction which was
by no means disposed to take a liberal view of government in general, and
regarded with apprehension the simultaneous advance of heretical notions
both in church and, state. Still there were, on the whole, the elements
of a controlling constitutional party throughout the fifteen provinces
The great bond of sympathy, however, between all the seventeen was their
common hatred to the foreign soldiery. Upon this deeply imbedded,
immovable fulcrum of an ancient national hatred, the sudden mutiny of the
whole Spanish army served as a lever of incalculable power. The Prince
seized it as from the hand of God. Thus armed, he proposed to himself the
task of upturning the mass of oppression under which the old liberties of
the country had so long been crushed. To effect this object, adroitness
was as requisite as courage. Expulsion of the foreign soldiery, union of
the seventeen provinces, a representative constitution, according to the
old charters, by the states-general, under an hereditary chief, a large
religious toleration, suppression of all inquisition into men's
consciences--these were the great objects to which the Prince now devoted
himself with renewed energy.

To bring about a general organization and a general union, much delicacy
of handling was necessary. The sentiment of extreme Catholicism and
Monarchism was not to be suddenly scared into opposition. The Prince,
therefore, in all his addresses and documents was careful to disclaim any
intention of disturbing the established religion, or of making any rash
political changes. "Let no man think," said he, to the authorities of
Brabant, "that, against the will of the estates, we desire to bring about
any change in religion. Let no one suspect us capable of prejudicing the
rights of any man. We have long since taken up arms to maintain a legal
and constitutional freedom, founded upon law. God forbid that we should
now attempt to introduce novelties, by which the face of liberty should
be defiled."

In a brief and very spirited letter to Count Lalain, a Catholic and a
loyalist, but a friend of his country and fervent hater of foreign
oppression, he thus appealed to his sense of chivalry and justice:
"Although the honorable house from which you spring," he said, "and the
virtue and courage of your ancestors have always impressed me with the
conviction that you would follow in their footsteps, yet am I glad to
have received proofs that my anticipations were correct. I cannot help,
therefore, entreating you to maintain the same high heart, and to
accomplish that which you have so worthily begun. Be not deluded by false
masks, mumming faces, and borrowed titles, which people assume for their
own profit, persuading others that the King's service consists in the
destruction of his subjects."

While thus careful to offend no man's religious convictions, to startle
no man's loyalty, he made skillful use of the general indignation felt
at, the atrocities of the mutinous army. This chord he struck boldly,
powerfully, passionately, for he felt sure of the depth and strength of
its vibrations. In his address to the estates of Gelderland, he used
vigorous language, inflaming and directing to a practical purpose the
just wrath which was felt in that, as in every other province. "I write
to warn you," he said, "to seize this present opportunity. Shake from
your necks the yoke of the godless Spanish tyranny, join yourselves at
once to the lovers of the fatherland, to the defenders of freedom.
According to the example of your own ancestors and ours, redeem for the
country its ancient laws, traditions, and privileges. Permit no longer,
to your shame and ours, a band of Spanish landloupers and other
foreigners, together with three or four self-seeking enemies of their own
land, to keep their feet upon our necks. Let them no longer, in the very
wantonness of tyranny, drive us about like a herd of cattle--like a gang
of well-tamed slaves."

Thus, day after day, in almost countless addresses to public bodies and
private individuals, he made use of the crisis to pile fresh fuel upon
the flames. At the same time, while thus fanning the general indignation,
he had the adroitness to point out that the people had already committed
themselves. He represented to them that the edict, by which they had
denounced his Majesty's veterans as outlaws, and had devoted them to the
indiscriminate destruction which such brigands deserved, was likely to
prove an unpardonable crime in the eyes of majesty. In short, they had
entered the torrent. If they would avoid being dashed over the precipice,
they must struggle manfully with the mad waves of civil war into which
they had plunged. "I beg you, with all affection," he said to the states
of Brabant, "to consider the danger in which you have placed yourselves.
You have to deal with the proudest and most overbearing race in the
world. For these qualities they are hated by all other nations. They are
even hateful to themselves. 'Tis a race which seeks to domineer
wheresoever it comes. It particularly declares its intention to crush and
to tyrannize you, my masters, and all the land. They have conquered you
already, as they boast, for the crime of lese-majesty has placed you at
their mercy. I tell you that your last act, by which you have declared
this army to be rebels, is decisive. You have armed and excited the whole
people against them, even to the peasants and the peasants' children, and
the insults and injuries thus received, however richly deserved and
dearly avenged, are all set down to your account. Therefore, 'tis
necessary for you to decide now, whether to be utterly ruined, yourselves
and your children, or to continue firmly the work which you have begun
boldly, and rather to die a hundred thousand deaths than to make a treaty
with them, which can only end in your ruin. Be assured that the measure
dealt to you will be ignominy as well as destruction. Let not your
leaders expect the honorable scaffolds of Counts Egmont and Horn. The
whipping-post and then the gibbet will be their certain fate."

Having by this and similar language, upon various occasions, sought to
impress upon his countrymen the gravity of the position, he led them to
seek the remedy in audacity and in union. He familiarized them with his
theory, that the legal, historical government of the provinces belonged
to the states-general, to a congress of nobles, clergy, and commons,
appointed from each of the seventeen provinces. He maintained, with
reason, that the government of the Netherlands was a representative
constitutional government, under the hereditary authority of the King. To
recover this constitution, to lift up these down-trodden rights, he set
before them most vividly the necessity of union, "'Tis impossible," he
said, "that a chariot should move evenly having its wheels unequally
proportioned; and so must a confederation be broken to pieces, if there
be not an equal obligation on all to tend to a common purpose." Union,
close, fraternal, such as became provinces of a common origin and with
similar laws, could alone save them from their fate. Union against a
common tyrant to save a common fatherland. Union; by which differences of
opinion should be tolerated, in order that a million of hearts should
beat for a common purpose, a million hands work out, invincibly, a common
salvation. "'Tis hardly necessary," he said "to use many words in
recommendation of union. Disunion has been the cause of all our woes.
There is no remedy, no hope, save in the bonds of friendship. Let all
particular disagreements be left to the decision of the states-general,
in order that with one heart and one will we may seek the disenthralment
of the fatherland from the tyranny of strangers."

The first step to a thorough union among all the provinces was the
arrangement of a closer connection between the now isolated states of
Holland and Zealand on the one side, and their fifteen sisters on the
other. The Prince professed the readiness of those states which he might
be said to represent in his single person, to draw as closely as possible
the bonds of fellowship. It was almost superfluous for him to promise his
own ready co-operation. "Nothing remains to us," said he, "but to discard
all jealousy and distrust. Let us, with a firm resolution and a common
accord, liberate these lands from the stranger. Hand to hand let us
accomplish a just and general peace. As for myself, I present to you,
with very, good affection, my person and all which I possess, assuring
you that I shall regard all my labors and pains in times which are past,
well bestowed, if God now grant me grace to see the desired end. That
this end will be reached, if you hold fast your resolution and take to
heart the means which God presents to you, I feel to be absolutely
certain."

Such were the tenor and the motives of the documents which he
scattered--broadcast at this crisis. They were addressed to the estates
of nearly every province. Those bodies were urgently implored to appoint
deputies to a general congress, at which a close and formal union between
Holland and Zealand with the other provinces might be effected. That
important measure secured, a general effort might, at the same time, be
made to expel the Spaniard from the soil. This done, the remaining
matters could be disposed of by the assembly of the estates-general. His
eloquence and energy were not without effect. In the course of the
autumn, deputies were appointed from the greater number of the provinces,
to confer with the representatives of Holland and Zealand, in a general
congress. The place appointed for the deliberations was the city of
Ghent. Here, by the middle of October, a large number of delegates were
already assembled.

Events were rapidly rolling together from every quarter, and accumulating
to a crisis. A congress--a rebellious congress, as the King might deem
it--was assembling at Ghent; the Spanish army, proscribed, lawless, and
terrible, was strengthening itself daily for some dark and mysterious
achievement; Don John of Austria, the King's natural brother, was
expected from Spain to assume the government, which the State Council was
too timid to wield and too loyal to resign, while, meantime, the whole
population of the Netherlands, with hardly an exception, was disposed to
see the great question of the foreign soldiery settled, before the chaos
then existing should be superseded by a more definite authority.
Everywhere, men of all ranks and occupations--the artisan in the city,
the peasant in the fields--were deserting their daily occupations to
furbish helmets, handle muskets, and learn the trade of war. Skirmishes,
sometimes severe and bloody, were of almost daily occurrence. In these
the Spaniards were invariably successful, for whatever may be said of
their cruelty and licentiousness, it cannot be disputed that their
prowess was worthy of their renown. Romantic valor, unflinching
fortitude, consummate skill, characterized them always. What could
half-armed artisans achieve in the open plain against such accomplished
foes? At Tisnacq, between Louvain and Tirlemont, a battle was attempted
by a large miscellaneous mass of students, peasantry, and burghers, led
by country squires. It soon changed to a carnage, in which the victims
were all on one side. A small number of veterans, headed by Vargas,
Mendoza, Tassis, and other chivalrous commanders, routed the
undisciplined thousands at a single charge. The rude militia threw away
their arms, and fled panic-struck in all directions, at the first sight
of their terrible foe. Two Spaniards lost their lives and two thousand
Netherlanders. It was natural that these consummate warriors should
despise such easily slaughtered victims. A single stroke of the iron
flail, and the chaff was scattered to the four winds; a single sweep of
the disciplined scythe, and countless acres were in an instant mown.
Nevertheless, although beaten constantly, the Netherlanders were not
conquered. Holland and Zealand had read the foe a lesson which he had not
forgotten, and although on the open fields, and against the less vigorous
population of the more central provinces, his triumphs had been easier,
yet it was obvious that the spirit of resistance to foreign oppression
was growing daily stronger, notwithstanding daily defeats.

Meantime, while these desultory but deadly combats were in daily
progress, the Council of State was looked upon with suspicion by the mass
of the population. That body, in which resided provisionally the powers
of government, was believed to be desirous of establishing relations with
the mutinous army. It was suspected of insidiously provoking the excesses
which it seemed to denounce. It was supposed to be secretly intriguing
with those whom its own edicts had outlawed. Its sympathies were
considered, Spanish. It was openly boasted by the Spanish army that,
before long, they would descend from their fastnesses upon Brussels, and
give the city to the sword. A shuddering sense of coming evil pervaded
the population, but no man could say where the blow would first be
struck. It was natural that the capital should be thought exposed to
imminent danger. At the same time, while every man who had hands was
disposed to bear arms to defend the city, the Council seemed paralyzed.
The capital was insufficiently garrisoned, yet troops were not enrolling
for its protection. The state councillors obviously omitted to provide
for defence, and it was supposed that they were secretly assisting the
attack. It was thought important, therefore, to disarm, or, at least, to
control this body which was impotent for protection, and seemed powerful
only for mischief. It was possible to make it as contemptible as it was
believed to be malicious.

An unexpected stroke was therefore suddenly levelled against the Council
in full session. On the 5th of September, the Seigneur de Heze, a young
gentleman of a bold, but unstable character, then entertaining close but
secret relations with the Prince of Orange, appeared before the doors of
the palace. He was attended by about five hundred troops, under the
immediate command of the Seigneur de Glimes, bailiff of Walloon Brabant.
He demanded admittance, in the name of the Brabant estates, to the
presence of the State Council, and was refused. The doors were closed and
bolted. Without further ceremony the soldiers produced iron bars brought
with them for the purpose, forced all the gates from the hinges, entered
the hall of session, and at a word from their commander, laid hands upon
the councillors, and made every one prisoner. The Duke of Aerschot,
President of the Council, who was then in close alliance with the Prince,
was not present at the meeting, but lay forewarned, at home, confined to
his couch by a sickness assumed for the occasion. Viglius, who rarely
participated in the deliberations of the board, being already afflicted
with the chronic malady under which he was ere long to succumb, also
escaped the fate of his fellow-senators. The others were carried into
confinement. Berlaymont and Mansfeld were imprisoned in the Brood-Huys,
where the last mortal hours of Egmont and Horn had been passed. Others
were kept strictly guarded in their own houses. After a few weeks, most
of them were liberated. Councillor Del Rio was, however, retained in
confinement, and sent to Holland, where he was subjected to a severe
examination by the Prince of Orange, touching his past career,
particularly concerning the doings of the famous Blood Council. The
others were set free, and even permitted to resume their functions, but
their dignity was gone, their authority annihilated. Thenceforth the
states of Brabant and the community of Brussels were to govern for an
interval, for it was in their name that the daring blow against the
Council had been struck. All individuals and bodies, however, although
not displeased with the result, clamorously disclaimed responsibility for
the deed. Men were appalled at the audacity of the transaction, and
dreaded the vengeance of the King: The Abbot Van Perch, one of the secret
instigators of the act, actually died of anxiety for its possible
consequences. There was a mystery concerning the affair. They in whose
name it had been accomplished, denied having given any authority to the
perpetrators. Men asked each other what unseen agency had been at work,
what secret spring had been adroitly touched. There is but little doubt,
however, that the veiled but skilful hand which directed the blow, was
the same which had so long been guiding the destiny of the Netherlands.

It had been settled that the congress was to hold its sessions in Ghent,
although the citadel commanding that city was held by the Spaniards. The
garrison was not very strong, and Mondragon, its commander, was absent in
Zealand, but the wife of the veteran ably supplied his place, and
stimulated the slender body of troops to hold out with heroism, under the
orders of his lieutenant, Avilos Maldonado. The mutineers, after having
accomplished their victory at Tisnacq, had been earnestly solicited to
come to the relief of this citadel. They had refused and returned to
Alost. Meantime, the siege was warmly pressed by the states. There being,
however, a deficiency of troops, application for assistance was formally
made to the Prince of Orange. Count Reulx, governor of Flanders;
commissioned the Seigneur d'Haussy, brother of Count Bossu, who, to
obtain the liberation of that long-imprisoned and distinguished nobleman,
was about visiting the Prince in Zealand, to make a request for an
auxiliary force. It was, however, stipulated that care should be taken
lest any prejudice should be done to the Roman Catholic religion or the
authority of the King. The Prince readily acceded to the request, and
agreed to comply with the conditions under which only it could be
accepted. He promised to send twenty-eight companies. In his letter
announcing this arrangement, he gave notice that his troops would receive
strict orders to do no injury to person or property, Catholic or
Protestant, ecclesiastic or lay, and to offer no obstruction to the Roman
religion or the royal dignity. He added, however, that it was not to be
taken amiss, if his soldiers were permitted to exercise their own
religious rites, and to sing their Protestant hymns within their own
quarters. He moreover, as security for the expense and trouble, demanded
the city of Sluys. The first detachment of troops, under command of
Colonel Vander Tympel, was, however, hardly on its way, before an alarm
was felt among the Catholic party at this practical alliance with the
rebel Prince. An envoy, named Ottingen, was despatched to Zealand,
bearing a letter from the estates of Hainault, Brabant, and Flanders,
countermanding the request for troops, and remonstrating categorically
upon the subject of religion and loyalty. Orange deemed such
tergiversation paltry, but controlled his anger. He answered the letter
in liberal terms, for he was determined that by no fault of his should
the great cause be endangered. He reassured the estates as to the
probable behaviour of his troops. Moreover, they had been already
admitted into the city, while the correspondence was proceeding. The
matter of the psalm-singing was finally arranged to the satisfaction of
both parties, and it was agreed that Niewport, instead of Sluys, should
be given to the Prince as security.

The siege of the citadel was now pressed vigorously, and the
deliberations of the congress were opened under the incessant roar of
cannon. While the attack was thus earnestly maintained upon the important
castle of Ghent, a courageous effort was made by the citizens of
Maestricht to wrest their city from the hands of the Spaniards. The
German garrison having been gained by the burghers, the combined force
rose upon the Spanish troops, and drove them from the city, Montesdocca,
the commander, was arrested and imprisoned, but the triumph was only
temporary. Don Francis d'Ayala, Montesdocca's lieutenant, made a stand,
with a few companies, in Wieck, a village on the opposite side of the
Meuse, and connected with the city by a massive bridge of stone. From
this point he sent information to other commanders in the neighbourhood.
Don Ferdinand de Toledo soon arrived with several hundred troops from
Dalem. The Spaniards, eager to wipe out the disgrace to their arms,
loudly demanded to be led back to the city. The head of the bridge,
however, over which they must pass, was defended by a strong battery, and
the citizens were seen clustering in great numbers to defend their
firesides against a foe whom they had once expelled. To advance across
the bridge seemed certain destruction to the little force. Even Spanish
bravery recoiled at so desperate an undertaking, but unscrupulous
ferocity supplied an expedient where courage was at fault. There were few
fighting men present among the population of Wieck, but there were many
females. Each soldier was commanded to seize a woman, and, placing her
before his own body, to advance across the bridge. The column, thus
bucklered, to the shame of Spanish chivalry, by female bosoms, moved in
good order toward the battery. The soldiers leveled their muskets with
steady aim over the shoulders or under the arms of the women whom they
thus held before them. On the other hand, the citizens dared not
discharge their cannon at their own townswomen, among whose numbers many
recognized mothers, sisters, or wives. The battery was soon taken, while
at the same time Alonzj Vargas, who had effected his entrance from the
land side by burning down the Brussels gate, now entered the city at the
head of a band of cavalry. Maestricht was recovered, and an
indiscriminate slaughter instantly avenged its temporary loss. The
plundering, stabbing, drowning, burning, ravishing; were so dreadful
that, in the words of a cotemporary historian, "the burghers who had
escaped the fight had reason to think themselves less fortunate than
those who had died with arms in their hands."

This was the lot of Maestricht on the 20th of October. It was
instinctively felt to be the precursor of fresh disasters. Vague,
incoherent, but widely disseminated rumors had long pointed to Antwerp
and its dangerous situation. The Spaniards, foiled in their views upon
Brussels, had recently avowed an intention of avenging themselves in the
commercial capital. They had waited long enough, and accumulated strength
enough. Such a trifling city as Alost could no longer content their
cupidity, but in Antwerp there was gold enough for the gathering. There
was reason for the fears of the inhabitants, for the greedy longing of
their enemy. Probably no city in Christendom could at that day vie with
Antwerp in wealth and splendor. Its merchants lived in regal pomp and
luxury. In its numerous, massive warehouses were the treasures of every
clime. Still serving as the main entrepot of the world's traffic, the
Brabantine capital was the centre of that commercial system which was
soon to be superseded by a larger international life. In the midst of the
miseries which had so long been raining upon the Netherlands, the stately
and egotistical city seemed to have taken stronger root and to flourish
more freshly than ever. It was not wonderful that its palaces and its
magazines, glittering with splendor and bursting with treasure, should
arouse the avidity of a reckless and famishing soldiery. Had not a
handful of warriors of their own race rifled the golden Indies? Had not
their fathers, few in number, strong in courage and discipline, revelled
in the plunder of a new world? Here were the Indies in a single city.
Here were gold and silver, pearls and diamonds, ready and portable; the
precious fruit dropping, ripened, from the bough. Was it to be tolerated
that base, pacific burghers should monopolize the treasure by which a
band of heroes might be enriched?

A sense of coming evil diffused itself through the atmosphere. The air
seemed lurid with the impending storm, for the situation was one of
peculiar horror. The wealthiest city in Christendom lay at the mercy of
the strongest fastness in the world; a castle which had been built to
curb, not to protect, the town. It was now inhabited by a band of
brigands, outlawed by government, strong in discipline, furious from
penury, reckless by habit, desperate in circumstance--a crew which feared
not God, nor man, nor Devil. The palpitating quarry lay expecting hourly
the swoop of its trained and pitiless enemy, for the rebellious soldiers
were now in a thorough state of discipline. Sancho d'Avila, castellan of
the citadel, was recognized as the chief of the whole mutiny, the army
and the mutiny being now one. The band, entrenched at Alost, were upon
the best possible understanding with their brethren in the citadel, and
accepted without hesitation the arrangements of their superior. On the
aide of the Scheld, opposite Antwerp, a fortification had been thrown up
by Don Sancho's orders, and held by Julian Romero. Lier, Breda, as well
as Alost, were likewise ready to throw their reinforcements into the
citadel at a moment's warning. At the signal of their chief, the united
bands might sweep from their impregnable castle with a single impulse.

The city cried aloud for help, for it had become obvious that an attack
might be hourly expected. Meantime an attempt, made by Don Sancho d'Avila
to tamper with the German troops stationed within the walls, was more
than partially, successful. The forces were commanded by Colonel Van Ende
and Count Oberatein. Van Ende, a crafty traitor to his country, desired
no better than to join the mutiny on so promising an occasion, and his
soldiers, shared his sentiments. Oberatein, a brave, but blundering
German, was drawn into the net of treachery by the adroitness of the
Spaniard and the effrontery of his comrade. On the night of the 29th of
October, half-bewildered and half-drunk, he signed a treaty with Sancho
d'Avilat and the three colonels--Fugger, Frondsberger, and Polwiller. By
this unlucky document, which was of course subscribed also by Van Ende,
it was agreed that the Antwerp burghers should be forthwith disarmed;
that their weapons should be sent into the citadel; that Oberstein should
hold the city at the disposition of Sancho d'Avila; that he should refuse
admittance to all troops which might be sent into the city, excepting by
command of Don Sancho, and that he should decline compliance with any
orders which he might receive from individuals calling themselves the
council of state, the states-general, or the estates of Brabant. This
treaty was signed, moreover; by Don Jeronimo de Rods, then established in
the citadel, and claiming to represent exclusively his Majesty's
government.

Hardly had this arrangement been concluded than the Count saw the trap
into which he had fallen. Without intending to do so, he had laid the
city at the mercy of its foe, but the only remedy which suggested itself
to his mind was an internal resolution not to keep his promises. The
burghers were suffered to retain their arms, while, on the other hand,
Don Sancho lost no time in despatching messages to Alost, to Lier, to
Breda, and even to Maestricht, that as large a force as possible might be
assembled for the purpose of breaking immediately the treaty of peace
which he had just concluded. Never was a solemn document, regarded with
such perfectly bad faith by all its signers as the accord, of the 29th of
October.

Three days afterwards, a large force of Walloons and Germans was
despatched from Brussels to the assistance of Antwerp. The command of
these troops was entrusted to the Marquis of Havre, whose brother, the
Duke of Aerschot; had been recently appointed chief superintendent of
military affairs by the deputies assembled at Ghent. The miscellaneous
duties comprehended under this rather vague denomination did not permit
the Duke to take charge of the expedition in person, and his younger
brother, a still more incompetent and unsubstantial character, was
accordingly appointed to the post. A number of young men, of high rank
but of lamentably low capacity, were associated with him. Foremost among
them was Philip, Count of Egmont, a youth who had inherited few of his
celebrated father's qualities, save personal courage and a love of
personal display. In character and general talents he was beneath
mediocrity. Beside these were the reckless but unstable De Heze, who had
executed the coup; d'etat against the State Council, De Berselen, De
Capres, D'Oyngies, and others, all vaguely desirous of achieving
distinction in those turbulent times, but few of them having any
political or religious convictions, and none of them possessing
experience or influence enough, to render them useful--at the impending
crisis.

On Friday morning, the 2nd of November, the troops appeared under the
walls of Antwerp. They consisted of twenty-three companies of infantry
and fourteen of cavalry, amounting to five thousand foot and twelve
hundred horse. They were nearly all Walloons, soldiers who had already
seen much active service, but unfortunately of a race warlike and fiery
indeed, but upon whose steadiness not much more dependence could be
placed at that day than in the age of Civilis. Champagny, brother of
Granvelle, was Governor of the city. He was a sincere Catholic, but a
still more sincere hater of the Spaniards. He saw in the mutiny a means
of accomplishing their expulsion, and had already offered to the Prince
of Orange his eager co-operation towards this result. In other matters
there could be but small sympathy between William the Silent and the
Cardinal's brother; but a common hatred united them, for a time at least,
in a common purpose.

When the troops first made their appearance before the walls, Champagny
was unwilling to grant them admittance. The addle-brained Oberstein had
confessed to him the enormous blunder which he had committed in his
midnight treaty, and at the same time ingenuously confessed his intention
of sending it to the winds. The enemy had extorted from his dulness or
his drunkenness a promise, which his mature and sober reason could not
consider binding. It is needless to say that Champagny rebuked him for
signing, and applauded him for breaking the treaty. At the same time its
ill effects were already seen in the dissensions which existed among the
German troops. Where all had been tampered with, and where the commanders
had set the example of infidelity, it would have been strange if all had
held firm. On the whole, however, Oberstein thought he could answer for
his own troops: Upon Van Ende's division, although the crafty colonel
dissembled his real intentions; very little reliance was placed. Thus
there was distraction within the walls. Among those whom the burghers had
been told to consider their defenders, there were probably many who were
ready to join with their mortal foes at a moment's warning. Under these
circumstances, Champagny hesitated about admitting these fresh troops
from Brussels. He feared lest the Germans, who knew themselves doubted,
might consider themselves doomed. He trembled, lest an irrepressible
outbreak should occur within the walls, rendering the immediate
destruction of the city by the Spaniards from without inevitable.
Moreover, he thought it more desirable that this auxiliary force should
be disposed at different points outside, in order to intercept the
passage of the numerous bodies of Spaniards and other mutineers, who from
various quarters would soon be on their way to the citadel. Havre,
however, was so peremptory, and the burghers were so importunate, that
Champagny was obliged to recede from his opposition before twenty-four
hours had elapsed. Unwilling to take the responsibility of a farther
refusal, he admitted the troops through the Burgherhout gate, on
Saturday, the 3rd of November, at ten o'clock in the morning.

The Marquis of Havre, as commander-in-chief, called a council of war. It
assembled at Count Oberstein's quarters, and consulted at first
concerning a bundle of intercepted letters which Havre had brought with
him. These constituted a correspondence between Sancho d'Avila with the
heads of the mutiny at Alost, and many other places. The letters were all
dated subsequently to Don Sancho's treaty with Oberstein, and contained
arrangements for an immediate concentration of the whole available
Spanish force at the citadel.

The treachery was so manifest, that Oberstein felt all self-reproach for
his own breach of faith to be superfluous. It was however evident that
the attack was to be immediately expected. What was to be done? All the
officers counselled the immediate erection of a bulwark on the side of
the city exposed to the castle, but there were no miners nor engineers.
Champagny, however, recommended a skilful and experienced engineer to
superintend; the work in the city; and pledged himself that burghers
enough would volunteer as miners. In less than an hour, ten or twelve
thousand persons, including multitudes of women of all ranks, were at
work upon the lines marked out by the engineer. A ditch and breast-work
extending from the gate of the Beguins to the street of the Abbey Saint
Michael, were soon in rapid progress. Meantime, the newly arrived troops,
with military insolence, claimed the privilege of quartering themselves
in the best houses which they could find. They already began to, insult
and annoy the citizens whom they had been sent to defend; nor were they
destined to atone, by their subsequent conduct in the face of the enemy,
for the brutality with which they treated their friends. Champagny,
however; was ill-disposed to brook their licentiousness. They had been
sent to protect the city and the homes of Antwerp from invasion. They
were not to establish themselves, at every fireside on their first
arrival. There was work enough for them out of doors, and they were to do
that work at once. He ordered them to prepare for a bivouac in, the
streets, and flew from house to house, sword in hand; driving forth the
intruders at imminent peril of his life. Meantime, a number of Italian
and Spanish merchants fled from the city, and took refuge in the castle.
The Walloon soldiers were for immediately plundering their houses, as if
plunder had been the object for which they had been sent to Antwerp. It
was several hours before Champagny, with all his energy, was able to
quell these disturbances.

In the course of the day, Oberstein received a letter from Don Sandra
d'Avila, calling solemnly upon him to fulfil his treaty of the 29th of
October. The German colonels from the citadel had, on the previous
afternoon, held a personal interview with Oberstein beneath the walls,
which had nearly ended in blows, and they had been obliged to save
themselves by flight from the anger of the Count's soldiers, enraged at
the deceit by which their leader had been so nearly entrapped. This
summons of ridiculous solemnity to keep a treaty which had already been
torn to shreds by both parties, Oberstein answered with defiance and
contempt. The reply was an immediate cannonade from the batteries of the
citadel; which made the position of those erecting the ramparts
excessively dangerous. The wall was strengthened with bales of
merchandise, casks of earth, upturned wagons, and similar bulky objects,
hastily piled together. In, some places it was sixteen feet high; in
others less than six. Night fell before the fortification was nearly
completed. Unfortunately it was bright moonlight. The cannon from the
fortress continued to play upon the half-finished works. The Walloons,
and at last the citizens, feared to lift their heads above their frail
rampart. The senators, whom Champagny had deputed to superintend the
progress of the enterprise, finding the men so indisposed, deserted their
posts. They promised themselves that, in the darkest hour of the
following night, the work should be thoroughly completed. Alas! all hours
of the coming night were destined to be dark enough, but in them was to
be done no manner of work for defence. On Champagny alone seemed devolved
an the labor and all the responsibility. He did his duty well, but he was
but one man. Alone, with a heart full of anxiety, he wandered up and down
all the night. With his own hands, assisted only by a few citizens and
his own servants, he planted all the cannon with which they were
provided, in the "Fencing Court," at a point where the battery might tell
upon the castle. Unfortunately, the troops from Brussels had brought no
artillery with them, and the means of defence against the strongest
fortress in Europe were meagre indeed. The rampart had been left very
weak at many vital points. A single upturned wagon was placed across the
entrance to the important street of the Beguins. This negligence was to
cost the city dear. At daybreak, there was a council held in Oberstein's
quarters. Nearly all Champagny's directions had been neglected. He had
desired that strong detachments should be posted during the night at
various places of Security on the outskirts of the town, for the troops
which were expected to arrive in small bodies at the citadel from various
parts, might have thus been cut off before reaching their destination.
Not even scouts had been stationed in sufficient numbers to obtain
information of what was occurring outside. A thick mist hung over the
city that eventful morning. Through its almost impenetrable veil, bodies
of men had been seen moving into the castle, and the tramp of cavalry had
been distinctly heard, and the troops of Romero, Vargas, Oliveira, and
Valdez had already arrived from Lier, Breda, Maestricht, and from the
forts on the Scheld.

The whole available force in the city was mustered without delay. Havre
had claimed for his post the defence of the lines opposite the citadel,
the place of responsibility and honor. Here the whole body of Walloons
were stationed, together with a few companies of Germans. The ramparts,
as stated, were far from impregnable, but it was hoped that this living
rampart of six thousand men, standing on their own soil, and in front of
the firesides and altars of their own countrymen; would prove a
sufficient bulwark even against Spanish fury. Unhappily, the living
barrier proved more frail than the feeble breastwork which the hands of
burghers and women had constructed. Six thousand men were disposed along
the side of the city opposite the fortress. The bulk of the German troops
was stationed at different points on the more central streets and
squares. The cavalry was posted on the opposite side of the city, along
the Horse-market, and fronting the "New-town." The stars were still in
the sky when Champagny got on horseback and rode through the streets,
calling on the burghers to arm and assemble at different points. The
principal places of rendezvous were the Cattlemarket and the Exchange. He
rode along the lines of the Walloon regiments, conversing with the
officers, Egmont, De Heze, and others, and encouraging the men, and went
again to the Fencing Court, where he pointed the cannon with his own
hand, and ordered their first discharge at the fortress. Thence he rode
to the end of the Beguin street, where he dismounted and walked out upon
the edge of the esplanade which stretched between the city and the
castle. On this battle-ground a combat was even then occurring between a
band of burghers and a reconnoitring party from the citadel. Champagny
saw with satisfaction that the Antwerpers were victorious. They were
skirmishing well with their disciplined foe, whom they at last beat back
to the citadel. His experienced eye saw, however, that the retreat was
only the signal for a general onslaught, which was soon to follow; and he
returned into the city to give the last directions.

At ten o'clock, a moving wood was descried, approaching the citadel from
the south-west. The whole body of the mutineers from Alost, wearing green
branches in their helmets--had arrived under command of their Eletto,
Navarrete. Nearly three thousand in number, they rushed into the castle,
having accomplished their march of twenty-four miles since three o'clock
in the morning. They were received with open arms. Sancho d'Avila ordered
food and refreshments to be laid before them, but they refused everything
but a draught of wine. They would dine in Paradise, they said, or sup in
Antwerp. Finding his allies in such spirit, Don Sancho would not balk
their humor. Since early morning, his own veterans had been eagerly
awaiting his signal, "straining upon the start." The troops of Romero,
Vargas, Valdez, were no less impatient. At about an hour before noon,
nearly every living man in the citadel was mustered for the attack,
hardly men enough being left behind to guard the gates. Five thousand
veteran foot soldiers, besides six hundred cavalry, armed to the teeth,
sallied from the portals of Alva's citadel. In the counterscarp they fell
upon their knees, to invoke, according to custom, the blessing of God
upon the Devil's work, which they were about to commit. The Bletto bore a
standard, one side of which was emblazoned with the crucified Saviour,
and the other with the Virgin Mary. The image of Him who said, "Love-your
enemies," and the gentle face of the Madonna, were to smile from heaven
upon deeds which might cause a shudder in the depths of hell. Their brief
orisons concluded, they swept forward to the city. Three thousand
Spaniards, under their Eletto, were to enter by the street of Saint
Michael; the Germans, and the remainder of the Spanish foot, commanded by
Romero, through that of Saint George. Champagny saw them coming, and
spoke a last word of encouragement to the Walloons. The next moment the
compact mass struck the barrier, as the thunderbolt descends from the
cloud. There was scarcely a struggle. The Walloons, not waiting to look
their enemy in the face, abandoned the posts which whey had themselves
claimed. The Spaniards crashed through the bulwark, as though it had been
a wall of glass. The Eletto was first to mount the rampart; the next
instant he was shot dead, while his followers, undismayed, sprang over
his body, and poured into the streets. The fatal gap, due to timidity and
carelessness, let in the destructive tide. Champagny, seeing that the
enemies had all crossed the barrier; leaped over a garden wall, passed
through a house into a narrow lane, and thence to the nearest station of
the German troops. Hastily collecting a small force, he led them in
person to the rescue. The Germans fought well, died well, but they could
not reanimate the courage of the Walloons, and all were now in full
retreat, pursued by the ferocious Spaniards. In vain Champagny stormed
among them; in vain he strove to rally their broken ranks. With his own
hand he seized a banner from a retreating ensign, and called upon the
nearest soldiers to make's stand against the foe. It was to bid the
flying clouds pause before the tempest. Torn, broken, aimless, the
scattered troops whirled through the streets before the pursuing wrath.
Champagny, not yet despairing, galloped hither and thither, calling upon
the burghers everywhere to rise in defence of their homes, nor did he
call in vain. They came forth from every place of rendezvous, from every
alley, from every house. They fought as men fight to defend their hearths
and altars, but what could individual devotion avail, against the
compact, disciplined, resistless mass of their foes? The order of defence
was broken, there was no system, no concert, no rallying point, no
authority. So soon as it was known that the Spaniards had crossed the
rampart, that its six thousand defenders were in full retreat, it was
inevitable that a panic should seize the city.

Their entrance once effected, the Spanish force had separated; according
to previous arrangement, into two divisions, one half charg

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