Book: The Rise of the Dutch Republic, Volume II.(of 3) 1566 74

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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, PG EDITION, 1566-1574, Complete
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC

By JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY
1855

VOLUME 2, Book 1., 1566
1566 [CHAPTER VIII.]

Secret policy of the government--Berghen and Montigny in Spain--
Debates at Segovia--Correspondence of the Duchess with Philip--
Procrastination and dissimulation of the King--Secret communication
to the Pope--Effect in the provinces of the King's letters to the
government--Secret instructions to the Duchess--Desponding
statements of Margaret--Her misrepresentations concerning Orange,
Egmont, and others--Wrath and duplicity of Philip--Egmont's
exertions in Flanders--Orange returns to Antwerp--His tolerant
spirit--Agreement of 2d September--Horn at Tournay--Excavations in
the Cathedral--Almost universal attendance at the preaching--
Building of temples commenced--Difficult position of Horn--Preaching
in the Clothiers' Hall--Horn recalled--Noircarmes at Tournay--
Friendly correspondence of Margaret with Orange, Egmont, Horn, and
Hoogstraaten--Her secret defamation of these persons.

Egmont in Flanders, Orange at Antwerp, Horn at Tournay; Hoogstraaten at
Mechlin, were exerting themselves to suppress insurrection and to avert
ruin. What, meanwhile, was the policy of the government? The secret
course pursued both at Brussels and at Madrid may be condensed into the
usual formula--dissimulation, procrastination, and again dissimulation.

It is at this point necessary to take a rapid survey of the open and the
secret proceedings of the King and his representatives from the moment at
which Berghen and Montigny arrived in Madrid. Those ill-fated gentlemen
had been received with apparent cordiality, and admitted to frequent, but
unmeaning, interviews with his Majesty. The current upon which they were
embarked was deep and treacherous, but it was smooth and very slow. They
assured the King that his letters, ordering the rigorous execution of the
inquisition and edicts, had engendered all the evils under which the
provinces were laboring. They told him that Spaniards and tools of
Spaniards had attempted to govern the country, to the exclusion of native
citizens and nobles, but that it would soon be found that Netherlanders
were not to be trodden upon like the abject inhabitants of Milan, Naples,
and Sicily. Such words as these struck with an unaccustomed sound upon
the royal ear, but the envoys, who were both Catholic and loyal, had no
idea, in thus expressing their opinions, according to their sense of
duty, and in obedience to the King's desire, upon the causes of the
discontent, that they were committing an act of high treason.

When the news of the public preaching reached Spain, there were almost
daily consultations at the grove of Segovia. The eminent personages who
composed the royal council were the Duke of Alva, the Count de Feria, Don
Antonio de Toledo, Don Juan Manrique de Lara, Ruy Gomez, Quixada,
Councillor Tisnacq, recently appointed President of the State Council,
and Councillor Hopper. Six Spaniards and two Netherlanders, one of whom,
too, a man of dull intellect and thoroughly subservient character, to
deal with the local affairs of the Netherlands in a time of intense
excitement! The instructions of the envoys had been to represent the
necessity of according three great points--abolition of the inquisition,
moderation of the edicts, according to the draft prepared in Brussels,
and an ample pardon for past transactions. There was much debate upon all
these propositions. Philip said little, but he listened attentively to
the long discourses in council, and he took an incredible quantity of
notes. It was the general opinion that this last demand on the part of
the Netherlanders was the fourth link in the chain of treason. The first
had been the cabal by which Granvelle had been expelled; the second, the
mission of Egmont, the main object of which had been to procure a
modification of the state council, in order to bring that body under the
control of a few haughty and rebellious nobles; the third had been the
presentation of the insolent and seditious Request; and now, to crown the
whole, came a proposition embodying the three points--abolition of the
inquisition, revocation of the edicts, and a pardon to criminals, for
whom death was the only sufficient punishment.

With regard to these three points, it was, after much wrangling, decided
to grant them under certain restrictions. To abolish the inquisition
would be to remove the only instrument by which the Church had been
accustomed to regulate the consciences and the doctrines of its subjects.
It would be equivalent to a concession of religious freedom, at least to
individuals within their own domiciles, than which no concession could be
more pernicious. Nevertheless, it might be advisable to permit the
temporary cessation of the papal inquisition, now that the episcopal
inquisition had been so much enlarged and strengthened in the
Netherlands, on the condition that this branch of the institution should
be maintained in energetic condition. With regard to the Moderation, it
was thought better to defer that matter till, the proposed visit of his
Majesty to the provinces. If, however, the Regent should think it
absolutely necessary to make a change, she must cause a new draft to be
made, as that which had been sent was not found admissible. Touching the
pardon general, it would be necessary to make many conditions and
restrictions before it could be granted. Provided these were sufficiently
minute to exclude all persons whom it might be found desirable to
chastise, the amnesty was possible. Otherwise it was quite out of the
question.

Meantime, Margaret of Parma had been urging her brother to come to a
decision, painting the distracted condition of the country in the
liveliest colors, and insisting, although perfectly aware of Philip's
private sentiments, upon a favorable decision as to the three points
demanded by the envoys. Especially she urged her incapacity to resist any
rebellion, and demanded succor of men and money in case the "Moderation"
were not accepted by his Majesty.

It was the last day of July before the King wrote at all, to communicate
his decisions upon the crisis which had occurred in the first week of
April. The disorder for which he had finally prepared a prescription had,
before his letter arrived, already passed through its subsequent stages
of the field-preaching and the image-breaking. Of course these fresh
symptoms would require much consultation, pondering, and note-taking
before they could be dealt with. In the mean time they would be
considered as not yet having happened. This was the masterly
procrastination of the sovereign, when his provinces were in a blaze.

His masterly dissimulation was employed in the direction suggested by his
councillors. Philip never originated a thought, nor laid down a plan, but
he was ever true to the falsehood of his nature, and was indefatigable in
following out the suggestions of others. No greater mistake can be made
than to ascribe talent to this plodding and pedantic monarch. The man's
intellect was contemptible, but malignity and duplicity, almost
superhuman; have effectually lifted his character out of the regions of
the common-place. He wrote accordingly to say that the pardon, under
certain conditions, might be granted, and that the papal inquisition
might cease--the bishops now being present in such numbers, "to take care
of their flocks," and the episcopal inquisition being, therefore
established upon so secure a basis. He added, that if a moderation of the
edicts were still desired, a new project might be sent to Madrid, as the
one brought by Berghen and Montigny was not satisfactory. In arranging
this wonderful scheme for composing the tumults of the country, which had
grown out of a determined rebellion to the inquisition in any form, he
followed not only the advice, but adopted the exact language of his
councillors.

Certainly, here was not much encouragement for patriotic hearts in the
Netherlands. A pardon, so restricted that none were likely to be forgiven
save those who had done no wrong; an episcopal inquisition stimulated to
renewed exertions, on the ground that the papal functionaries were to be
discharged; and a promise that, although the proposed Moderation of the
edicts seemed too mild for the monarch's acceptance, yet at some future
period another project would be matured for settling the matter to
universal satisfaction--such were the propositions of the Crown.
Nevertheless, Philip thought he had gone too far, even in administering
this meagre amount of mercy, and that he had been too frank in employing
so slender a deception, as in the scheme thus sketched. He therefore
summoned a notary, before whom, in presence of the Duke of Alva, the
Licentiate Menchaca and Dr. Velasco, he declared that, although he had
just authorized Margaret of Parma, by force of circumstances, to grant
pardon to all those who had been compromised in the late disturbances of
the Netherlands, yet as he had not done this spontaneously nor freely, he
did not consider himself bound by the authorization, but that, on the
contrary, he reserved his right to punish all the guilty, and
particularly those who had been the authors and encouragers of the
sedition.

So much for the pardon promised in his official correspondence.

With regard to the concessions, which he supposed himself to have made in
the matter of the inquisition and the edicts, he saved his conscience by
another process. Revoking with his right hand all which his left had been
doing, he had no sooner despatched his letters to the Duchess Regent than
he sent off another to his envoy at Rome. In this despatch he instructed
Requesens to inform the Pope as to the recent royal decisions upon the
three points, and to state that there had not been time to consult his
Holiness beforehand. Nevertheless, continued Philip "the prudent," it was
perhaps better thus, since the abolition could have no force, unless the
Pope, by whom the institution had been established, consented to its
suspension. This matter, however, was to be kept a profound secret. So
much for the inquisition matter. The papal institution, notwithstanding
the official letters, was to exist, unless the Pope chose to destroy it;
and his Holiness, as we have seen, had sent the Archbishop of Sorrento, a
few weeks before, to Brussels, for the purpose of concerting secret
measures for strengthening the "Holy Office" in the provinces.

With regard to the proposed moderation of the edicts, Philip informed
Pius the Fifth, through Requesens, that the project sent by the Duchess
not having been approved, orders had been transmitted for a new draft, in
which all the articles providing for the severe punishment of heretics
were to be retained, while alterations, to be agreed upon by the state
and privy councils, and the knights of the Fleece, were to be
adopted--certainly in no sense of clemency. On the contrary, the King
assured his Holiness, that if the severity of chastisement should be
mitigated the least in the world by the new articles, they would in no
case receive the royal approbation. Philip further implored the Pope "not
to be scandalized" with regard to the proposed pardon, as it would be by
no means extended to offenders against religion. All this was to be kept
entirely secret. The King added, that rather than permit the least
prejudice to the ancient religion, he would sacrifice all his states, and
lose a hundred lives if he had so many; for he would never consent to be
the sovereign of heretics. He said he would arrange the troubles of the
Netherlands, without violence, if possible, because forcible measures
would cause the entire destruction of the country. Nevertheless they
should be employed, if his purpose could be accomplished in no other way.
In that case the King would himself be the executor of his own design,
without allowing the peril which he should incur, nor the ruin of the
provinces, nor that of his other realms, to prevent him from doing all
which a Christian prince was bound to do, to maintain the Catholic
religion and the authority of the Holy See, as well as to testify his
personal regard for the reigning pontiff, whom he so much loved and
esteemed.

Here was plain speaking. Here were all the coming horrors distinctly
foreshadowed. Here was the truth told to the only being with whom Philip
ever was sincere. Yet even on this occasion, he permitted himself a
falsehood by which his Holiness was not deceived. Philip had no intention
of going to the Netherlands in person, and the Pope knew that he had
none. "I feel it in my bones," said Granvelle, mournfully, "that nobody
in Rome believes in his Majesty's journey to the provinces." From that
time forward, however, the King began to promise this visit, which was
held out as a panacea for every ill, and made to serve as an excuse for
constant delay.

It may well be supposed that if Philip's secret policy had been
thoroughly understood in the Netherlands, the outbreak would have come
sooner. On the receipt, however, of the public despatches from Madrid,
the administration in Brussels made great efforts to represent their
tenor as highly satisfactory. The papal inquisition was to be abolished,
a pardon was to be granted, a new moderation was to be arranged at some
indefinite period; what more would men have? Yet without seeing the face
of the cards, the people suspected the real truth, and Orange was
convinced of it. Viglius wrote that if the King did not make his intended
visit soon, he would come too late, and that every week more harm was
done by procrastination than could be repaired by months of labor and
perhaps by torrents of blood. What the precise process was, through which
Philip was to cure all disorders by his simple presence, the President
did not explain.

As for the measures propounded by the King after so long a delay, they
were of course worse than useless; for events had been marching while he
had been musing. The course suggested was, according to Viglius, but "a
plaster for a wound, but a drag-chain for the wheel." He urged that the
convocation of the states-general was the only remedy for the perils in
which the country was involved; unless the King should come in person. He
however expressed the hope that by general consultation some means would
be devised by which, if not a good, at least a less desperate aspect
would be given to public affairs, "so that the commonwealth, if fall it
must, might at least fall upon its feet like a cat, and break its legs
rather than its neck."

Notwithstanding this highly figurative view of the subject; and
notwithstanding the urgent representations of Duchess Margaret to her
brother, that nobles and people were all clamoring about the necessity of
convening the states general, Philip was true to his instincts on this as
on the other questions. He knew very well that the states-general of the
Netherlands and Spanish despotism were incompatible ideas, and he
recoiled from the idea of the assembly with infinite aversion. At the
same time a little wholesome deception could do no harm. He wrote to the
Duchess, therefore, that he was determined never to allow the
states-general to be convened. He forbade her to consent to the step
under any circumstances, but ordered her to keep his prohibition a
profound secret. He wished, he said, the people to think that it was only
for the moment that the convocation was forbidden, and that the Duchess
was expecting to receive the necessary permission at another time. It was
his desire, he distinctly stated, that the people should not despair of
obtaining the assembly, but he was resolved never to consent to the step,
for he knew very well what was meant by a meeting of the States-general.
Certainly after so ingenuous but secret a declaration from the disciple
of Macchiavelli, Margaret might well consider the arguments to be used
afterward by herself and others, in favor of the ardently desired
measure, as quite superfluous.

Such then was the policy secretly resolved upon by Philip; even before he
heard of the startling events which were afterwards to break upon him. He
would maintain the inquisition and the edicts; he would exterminate the
heretics, even if he lost all his realms and his own life in the cause;
he would never hear of the national representatives coming together. What
then were likely to be his emotions when he should be told of twenty
thousand armed heretics assembling at one spot, and fifteen thousand at
another, in almost every town in every province, to practice their
blasphemous rites; when he should be told of the whirlwind which had
swept all the ecclesiastical accumulations of ages out of existence; when
he should read Margaret's despairing letters, in which she acknowledged
that she had at last committed an act unworthy of God, of her King, and
of herself, in permitting liberty of worship to the renegades from the
ancient church!

The account given by the Duchess was in truth very dismal. She said that
grief consumed her soul and crimson suffused her cheeks while she related
the recent transactions. She took God to witness that she had resisted
long, that she had past many sleepless nights, that she had been wasted
with fever and grief. After this penitential preface she confessed that,
being a prisoner and almost besieged in her palace, sick in body and
soul, she had promised pardon and security to the confederates, with
liberty of holding assemblies to heretics in places where the practice
had already obtained. These concessions had been made valid until the
King by and with the consent of the states-general, should definitely
arrange the matter. She stated, however, that she had given her consent
to these two demands, not in the royal name, but in her own. The King was
not bound by her promise, and she expreesed the hope that he would have
no regard to any such obligation. She further implored her brother to
come forth as soon as possibe to avenge the injuries inflicted upon the
ancient church, adding, that if deprived of that consolation, she should
incontinently depart this life. That hope alone would prevent her death.

This was certainly strong language. She was also very explicit in her
representations of the influence which had been used by certain
personages to prevent the exercise of any authority upon her own part.
"Wherefore," said Margaret, "I eat my heart; and shall never have peace
till the arrival of your Majesty."

There was no doubt who those personages were who, as it was pretended,
had thus held the Duchess in bondage, and compelled her to grant these
infamous concessions. In her secret Italian letters, she furnished the
King with a tissue of most extravagant and improbable falsehoods,
supplied to her mainly by Noircarmes and Mansfeld, as to the course
pursued at this momentous crisis by Orange, Egmont, Horn, and
Hoogstraaten. They had all, she said, declared against God and against
religion.--Horn, at least, was for killing all the priests and monks in
the country, if full satisfaction were not given to the demands of the
heretics. Egmont had declared openly for the beggars, and was levying
troops in Germany. Orange had the firm intention of making himself master
of the whole country, and of dividing it among the other seigniors and
himself. The Prince had said that if she took refuge in Mons, as she had
proposed, they would instantly convoke the states-general, and take all
necessary measures. Egmont had held the same language, saying that he
would march at the head of forty thousand men to besiege her in that
city. All these seigniors, however, had avowed their determination to
prevent her flight, to assemble the estates, and to drag her by force
before the assembly, in order to compel her consent to every measure
which might be deemed expedient. Under all these circumstances, she had
been obliged to defer her retreat, and to make the concessions which had
overwhelmed her with disgrace.

With such infamous calumnies, utterly disproved by every fact in the
case, and unsupported by a tittle of evidence, save the hearsay reports
of a man like Noircarmes, did this "woman, nourished at Rome, in whom no
one could put confidence," dig the graves of men who were doing their
best to serve her.

Philip's rage at first hearing of the image-breaking has been indicated.
He was ill of an intermittent fever at the wood of Segovia when the news
arrived, and it may well be supposed that his wrath at these proceedings
was not likely to assuage his malady. Nevertheless, after the first burst
of indignation, he found relief in his usual deception. While slowly
maturing the most tremendous vengeance which anointed monarch ever
deliberately wreaked upon his people, he wrote to say, that it was "his
intention to treat his vassals and subjects in the provinces like a good
and clement prince, not to ruin them nor to put them into servitude, but
to exercise all humanity, sweetness, and grace, avoiding all harshness."
Such were the avowed intentions of the sovereign towards his people at
the moment when the terrible Alva, who was to be the exponent of all this
"humanity, sweetness, and grace," was already beginning the preparations
for his famous invasion of the Netherlands.

The essence of the compact agreed to upon the 23d August between the
confederates and the Regent, was that the preaching of the reformed
religion should be tolerated in places where it had previously to that
date been established. Upon this basis Egmont, Horn, Orange,
Hoogstraaten, and others, were directed once more to attempt the
pacification of the different provinces.

Egmont departed for his government of Flanders, and from that moment
vanished all his pretensions, which at best had been, slender enough, to
the character of a national chieftain. During the whole of the year his
course had been changeful. He had felt the influence of Orange; he had
generous instincts; he had much vanity; he had the pride of high rank;
which did not easily brook the domination of strangers, in a land which
he considered himself and his compeers entitled by their birth to rule.
At this juncture, however, particularly when in the company of
Noircarmes, Berlaymont, and Viglius, he expressed, notwithstanding their
calumnious misstatements, the deepest detestation of the heretics. He was
a fervent Catholic, and he regarded the image-breaking as an unpardon
able crime. "We must take up arms," said he, "sooner or later, to bring
these Reformers to reason, or they will end by laying down the law for
us." On the other hand, his anger would be often appeased by the grave
but gracious remonstrances of Orange. During a part of the summer, the
Reformers had been so strong in Flanders that upon a single day sixty
thousand armed men had been assembled at the different field-preachings
within that province. "All they needed was a Jacquemart, or a Philip van
Artevelde," says a Catholic, contemporary, "but they would have scorned
to march under the banner of a brewer; having dared to raise their eyes
for a chief, to the most illustrious warrior of his ages." No doubt, had
Egmont ever listened to these aspirations, he might have taken the field
against the government with an invincible force, seized the capital,
imprisoned the Regent, and mastered the whole country, which was entirely
defenceless, before Philip would have had time to write more than ten
despatches upon the subject.

These hopes of the Reformers, if hopes they could be called, were now
destined to be most bitterly disappointed. Egmont entered Flanders, not
as a chief of rebels--not as a wise pacificator, but as an unscrupulous
partisan of government, disposed to take summary vengeance on all
suspected persons who should fall in his way. He ordered numerous
executions of image-breakers and of other heretics. The whole province
was in a state of alarm; for, although he had not been furnished by the
Regent with a strong body of troops, yet the name of the conqueror at
Saint Quentin and Gravelines was worth many regiments. His severity was
excessive. His sanguinary exertions were ably seconded also by his
secretary Bakkerzeel, a man who exercised the greatest influence over his
chief, and who was now fiercely atoning for having signed the Compromise
by persecuting those whom that league had been formed to protect. "Amid
all the perplexities of the Duchess Regent," Says a Walloon historian,
"this virtuous princess was consoled by the exploits of Bakkerzeel,
gentleman in Count Egmont's service. On one occasion he hanged twenty
heretics, including a minister, at a single heat."

Such achievements as these by the hands or the orders of the
distinguished general who had been most absurdly held up as a possible
protector of the civil and religious liberties of the country, created
profound sensation. Flanders and Artois were filled with the wives and
children of suspected I thousands who had fled the country to escape the
wrath of Egmont. The cries and piteous lamentations of these unfortunate
creatures were heard on every side. Count Louis was earnestly implored to
intercede for the persecuted Reformers. "You who have been so nobly
gifted by Heaven, you who have good will and singular bounty written upon
your face," said Utenhove to Louis, "have the power to save these poor
victims from the throats of the ravenous wolves." The Count responded to
the appeal, and strove to soften the severity of Egmont, without,
however, producing any very signal effect. Flanders was soon pacified,
nor was that important province permitted to enjoy the benefits of the
agreement which had been extorted, from the Duchess. The preachings were
forbidden, and the ministers and congregations arrested and chastised,
even in places where the custom had been established previously to the
23d August. Certainly such vigorous exertions upon the part both of
master and man did not savor of treason to Philip, and hardly seemed to
indicate the final doom of Egmont and Bakkerzeel.

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