CHAPTER IX

.

PHILIP'S INFLEXIBILITY.

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

1565, 1566.

Shortly after Egmont's return to Brussels, Margaret called a meeting of the council of state, at which the sealed instructions brought by the envoy from Madrid were opened and read. They began by noticing the count's demeanor in terms so flattering as showed the mission had proved acceptable to the king. Then followed a declaration, strongly expressed and sufficiently startling. "I would rather lose a hundred thousand lives, if I had so many," said the monarch, "than allow a single change in matters of religion."[652] He, however, recommended that a commission be appointed, consisting of three bishops with a number of jurists, who should advise with the members of the council as to the best mode of instructing the people, especially in their spiritual concerns. It might be well, moreover, to substitute some secret methods for the public forms of execution, which now enabled the heretic to assume to himself the glory of martyrdom, and thereby produce a mischievous impression on the people.[653] No other allusion was made to the pressing grievances of the nation, though, in a letter addressed at the same time to the duchess, Philip said that he had come to no decision as to the council of state, where the proposed change seemed likely to be attended with inconvenience.[654]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S DUPLICITY.]

This, then, was the result of Egmont's mission to Madrid! This the change so much vaunted in the policy of Philip! "The count has been the dupe of Spanish cunning," exclaimed the prince of Orange. It was too true; and Egmont felt it keenly, as he perceived the ridicule to which he was exposed by the confident tone in which he had talked of the amiable dispositions of the Castilian court, and by the credit he had taken to himself for promoting them.[655]

A greater sensation was produced among the people; for their expectations had been far more sanguine than those entertained by William, and the few who, like him, understood the character of Philip too well to place great confidence in the promises of Egmont. They loudly declaimed against the king's insincerity, and accused their envoy of having shown more concern for his private interests than for those of the public. This taunt touched the honor of that nobleman, who bitterly complained that it was an artifice of Philip to destroy his credit with his countrymen; and the better to prove his good faith, he avowed his purpose of throwing up at once all the offices he held under government.[656]

The spirit of persecution, after a temporary lull, now again awakened. But everywhere the inquisitors were exposed to insult, and met with the same resistance as before; while their victims were cheered with expressions of sympathy from those who saw them led to execution. To avoid the contagion of example, the executions were now conducted secretly in the prisons.[657] But the mystery thus thrown around the fate of the unhappy sufferer only invested it with an additional horror. Complaints were made every day to the government by the states, the magistrates, and the people, denouncing the persecutions to which they were exposed. Spies, they said, were in every house, watching looks, words, gestures. No man was secure, either in person or property. The public groaned under an intolerable slavery.[658] Meanwhile, the Huguenot emissaries were busy as ever in propagating their doctrines; and with the work of reform was mingled the seed of revolution.

The regent felt the danger of this state of things, and her impotence to relieve it. She did all she could in freely exposing it to Philip, informing him at the same time of Egmont's disgust, and the general discontent of the nation, at the instructions from Spain. She ended, as usual, by beseeching her brother to come himself, if he would preserve his authority in the Netherlands.[659] To these communications the royal answers came but rarely; and, when they did come, were for the most part vague and unsatisfactory.

"Everything goes on with Philip," writes Chantonnay, formerly minister to France, to his brother Granvelle,--"Everything goes on from to-morrow to to-morrow; the only resolution is, to remain irresolute.[660] The king will allow matters to become so entangled in the Low Countries, that, if he ever should visit them, he will find it easier to conform to the state of things than to mend it. The lords there are more of kings than the king himself.[661] They have all the smaller nobles in leading-strings. It is impossible that Philip should conduct himself like a man.[662] His only object is to cajole the Flemish nobles, so that he may be spared the necessity of coming to Flanders."

"It is a pity," writes the secretary, Perez, "that the king will manage affairs as he does, now taking counsel of this man, and now of that; concealing some matters from those he consults, and trusting them with others, showing full confidence in no one. With this way of proceeding, it is no wonder that despatches should be contradictory in their tenor."[663]

It is doubtless true, that procrastination and distrust were the besetting sins of Philip, and were followed by their natural consequences. He had, moreover, as we have seen, a sluggishness of nature, which kept him in Madrid when he should have been in Brussels,--where his father, in similar circumstances, would long since have been, seeing with his own eyes what Philip saw only with the eyes of others. But still his policy, in the present instance, may be referred quite as much to deliberate calculation as to his natural temper. He had early settled it as a fixed principle never to concede religious toleration to his subjects. He had intimated this pretty clearly in his different communications to the government of Flanders. That he did not announce it in a more absolute and unequivocal form may well have arisen from the apprehension, that, in the present irritable state of the people, this might rouse their passions into a flame. At least, it might be reserved for a last resort. Meanwhile, he hoped to weary them out by maintaining an attitude of cold reserve; until, convinced of the hopelessness of resistance, they would cease altogether to resist. In short, he seemed to deal with the Netherlands like a patient angler, who allows the trout to exhaust himself by his own efforts, rather than by a violent movement risk the loss of him altogether. It is clear Philip did not understand the character of the Netherlander,--as dogged and determined as his own.

Considering the natural bent of the king's disposition, there seems no reason to charge Granvelle, as was commonly done in the Low Countries, with having given a direction to his policy. It is, however, certain, that, on all great questions, the minister's judgment seems to have perfectly coincided with that of his master. "If your majesty mitigates the edicts," writes the cardinal, "affairs will become worse in Flanders than they are in France."[664] No change should be allowed in the council of state.[665] A meeting of the states-general would inflict an injury which the king would feel for thirty years to come![666] Granvelle maintained a busy correspondence with his partisans in the Low Countries, and sent the results of it--frequently the original letters themselves--to Madrid. Thus Philip, by means of the reports of the great nobles on the one hand, and of the Cardinalists on the other, was enabled to observe the movements in Flanders from the most opposite points of view.

[Sidenote: HIS PROCRASTINATION.]

The king's replies to the letters of the minister were somewhat scanty, to judge from the complaints which Granvelle made of his neglect. With all this, the cardinal professes to be well pleased that he is rid of so burdensome an office as that of governing the Netherlands. "Here," he writes to his friend Viglius, "I make good cheer, busying myself with my own affairs, and preparing my despatches in quiet, seldom leaving the house, except to take a walk, to attend church, or to visit my mother."[667] In this simple way of life, the philosophic statesman seems to have passed his time to his own satisfaction, though it is evident, notwithstanding his professions, that he cast many a longing look back to the Netherlands, the seat of his brief authority. "The hatred the people of Flanders bear me," he writes to Philip, "afflicts me sorely; but I console myself that it is for the service of God and my king."[668] The cardinal, amid his complaints of the king's neglect, affected the most entire submission to his will. "I would go anywhere," he writes,--"to the Indies, anywhere in the world,--would even throw myself into the fire, did you desire it."[669] Philip, not long after, put these professions to the test. In October, 1565, he yielded to the regent's importunities, and commanded Granvelle to transfer his residence to Rome. The cardinal would not move. "Anywhere," he wrote to his master, "but to Rome. That is a place of ceremonies and empty show, for which I am nowise qualified. Besides, it would look too much like a submission on your part. My diocese of Mechlin has need of me; now, if I should go to Spain, it would look as if I went to procure the aid which it so much requires."[670] But the cabinet of Madrid were far from desiring the presence of so cunning a statesman to direct the royal counsels. The orders were reiterated, to go to Rome. To Rome, accordingly, the reluctant minister went; and we have a letter from him to the king, dated from that capital, the first of February, 1566, in which he counsels his master by no means to think of introducing the Spanish Inquisition into the Netherlands.[671] It might seem as if, contrary to the proverb, change of climate had wrought some change in the disposition of the cardinal.--From this period, Granvelle, so long the terror of the Low Countries, disappears from the management of their affairs. He does not, however, disappear from the political theatre. We shall again meet with the able and ambitious prelate, first as viceroy of Naples, and afterwards at Madrid occupying the highest station in the councils of his sovereign.

Early in July, 1565, the commission of reform appointed by Philip transmitted its report to Spain. It recommended no change in the present laws, except so far as to authorize the judges to take into consideration the age and sex of the accused, and in case of penitence to commute the capital punishment of the convicted heretic for banishment. Philip approved of the report in all particulars,--except the only particular that involved a change, that of mercy to the penitent heretic.[672]

At length, the king resolved on such an absolute declaration of his will as should put all doubts on the matter at rest, and relieve him from further importunity. On the seventeenth of October, 1565, he addressed that memorable letter to his sister, from the Wood of Segovia, which may be said to have determined the fate of the Netherlands. Philip, in this, intimates his surprise that his letters should appear to Egmont inconsistent with what he had heard from his lips at Madrid. His desire was not for novelty in anything. He would have the Inquisition conducted by the inquisitors, as it had hitherto been, and as by right, divine and human, belonged to them.[673] For the edicts, it was no time in the present state of religion to make any change; both his own and those of his father must be executed. The Anabaptists--a sect for which, as the especial butt of persecution, much intercession had been made--must be dealt with according to the rigor of the law. Philip concluded by conjuring the regent and the lords in the council faithfully to obey his commands, as in so doing they would render the greatest service to the cause of religion and of their country,--which last, he adds, without the execution of these ordinances, would be of little worth.[674]

In a private letter to the regent of nearly the same date with these public despatches, Philip speaks of the proposed changes in the council of state as a subject on which he had not made up his mind.[675] He notices also the proposed convocation of the states-general as a thing, in the present disorders of the country, altogether inexpedient.[676]--Thus the king's despatches covered nearly all the debatable ground on which the contest had been so long going on between the crown and the country. There could be no longer any complaint of ambiguity or reserve in the expression of the royal will. "God knows," writes Viglius, "what wry faces were made in the council on learning the absolute will of his majesty!"[677] There was not one of its members, not even the president or Barlaimont, who did not feel the necessity of bending to the tempest so far as to suspend, if not to mitigate, the rigor of the law. They looked to the future with gloomy apprehension. Viglius strongly urged, that the despatches should not be made public till some further communication should be had with Philip to warn him of the consequences. In this he was opposed by the prince of Orange. "It was too late," he said, "to talk of what was expedient to be done. Since the will of his majesty was so unequivocally expressed, all that remained for the government was to execute it."[678] In vain did Viglius offer to take the whole responsibility of the delay on himself. William's opinion, supported by Egmont and Hoorne, prevailed with the regent, too timid, by such an act of disobedience, to hazard the displeasure of her brother. As, late in the evening, the council broke up, William was heard to exclaim, "Now we shall see the beginning of a fine tragedy!"[679]

[Sidenote: EFFECT ON THE COUNTRY.]

In the month of December, the regent caused copies of the despatches, with extracts from the letters to herself, to be sent to the governors and the councils of the several provinces, with orders that they should see to their faithful execution. Officers, moreover, were to be appointed, whose duty it was to ascertain the manner in which these orders were fulfilled, and to report thereon to the government.

The result was what had been foreseen. The publication of the despatches--to borrow the words of a Flemish writer--created a sensation throughout the country little short of what would have been caused by a declaration of war.[680] Under every discouragement, men had flattered themselves, up to this period, with the expectation of some change for the better. The constantly increasing number of the Reformers, the persevering resistance to the Inquisition, the reiterated remonstrances to the government, the general persuasion that the great nobles, even the regent, were on their side, had all combined to foster the hope that toleration, to some extent, would eventually be conceded by Philip.[681] This hope was now crushed. Whatever doubts had been entertained were dispelled by these last despatches, which came like a hurricane, sweeping away the mists that had so long blinded the eyes of men, and laying open the policy of the crown, clear as day, to the dullest apprehension. The people passed to the extremity of despair. The Spanish Inquisition, with its train of horrors, seemed to be already in the midst of them. They called to mind all the tales of woe they had heard of it. They recounted the atrocities perpetrated by the Spaniards in the New World, which, however erroneously, they charged on the Holy Office. "Do they expect," they cried, "that we shall tamely wait here, like the wretched Indians, to be slaughtered by millions?"[682] Men were seen gathering into knots, in the streets and public squares, discussing the conduct of the government, and gloomily talking of secret associations and foreign alliances. Meetings were stealthily held in the woods, and in the suburbs of the great towns, where the audience listened to fanatical preachers, who, while discussing the doctrines of religious reform, darkly hinted at resistance. Tracts were printed, and widely circulated, in which the reciprocal obligations of lord and vassal were treated, and the right of resistance was maintained; and, in some instances, these difficult questions were handled with decided ability. A more common form was that of satire and scurrilous lampoon,--a favorite weapon with the early Reformers. Their satirical sallies were levelled indifferently at the throne and the Church. The bishops were an obvious mark. No one was spared. Comedies were written to ridicule the clergy. Never since the discovery of the art of printing--more than a century before--had the press been turned into an engine of such political importance as in the earlier stages of the revolution in the Netherlands. Thousands of the seditious pamphlets thus thrown off were rapidly circulated among a people, the humblest of whom possessed what many a noble in other lands, at that day, was little skilled in,--the art of reading. Placards were nailed to the doors of the magistrates, in some of the cities, proclaiming that Rome stood in need of her Brutus. Others were attached to the gates of Orange and Egmont, calling on them to come forth and save their country.[683]

Margaret was filled with alarm at these signs of disaffection throughout the land. She felt the ground trembling beneath her. She wrote again and again to Philip, giving full particulars of the state of the public sentiment, and the seditious spirit which seemed on the verge of insurrection. She intimated her wish to resign the government.[684] She besought him to allow the states-general to be summoned, and, at all events, to come in person and take the reins from her hands, too weak to hold them.--Philip coolly replied, that "he was sorry the despatches from Segovia had given such offence. They had been designed only for the service of God and the good of the country."[685]

In this general fermentation, a new class of men came on the stage, important by their numbers, though they had taken no part as yet in political affairs. These were the lower nobility of the country; men of honorable descent, and many of them allied by blood or marriage with the highest nobles of the land. They were too often men of dilapidated fortunes, fallen into decay through their own prodigality, or that of their progenitors. Many had received their education abroad, some in Geneva, the home of Calvin, where they naturally imbibed the doctrines of the great Reformer. In needy circumstances, with no better possession than the inheritance of honorable traditions, or the memory of better days, they were urged by a craving, impatient spirit, which naturally made them prefer any change to the existing order of things. They were, for the most part, bred to arms; and, in the days of Charles the Fifth, had found an ample career opened to their ambition under the imperial banners. But Philip, with less policy than his father, had neglected to court this class of his subjects, who, without fixed principles or settled motives of action, seemed to float on the surface of events, prepared to throw their weight, at any moment, into the scale of revolution.

[Sidenote: THE COMPROMISE.]

Some twenty of these cavaliers, for the most part young men, met together in the month of November, in Brussels, at the house of Count Culemborg, a nobleman attached to the Protestant opinions. Their avowed purpose was to listen to the teachings of a Flemish divine, named Junius, a man of parts and learning, who had been educated in the school of Calvin, and who, having returned to the Netherlands, exercised, under the very eye of the regent, the dangerous calling of the missionary. At this meeting of the discontented nobles, the talk naturally turned on the evils of the land, and the best means of remedying them. The result of the conferences was the formation of a league, the principal objects of which are elaborately set forth in a paper known as the "Compromise."[686]

This celebrated document declares that the king had been induced by evil counsellors,--for the most part foreigners,--in violation of his oath, to establish the Inquisition in the country; a tribunal opposed to all law, divine and human, surpassing in barbarity anything ever yet practised by tyrants,[687] tending to bring the land to utter ruin, and the inhabitants to a state of miserable bondage. The confederates, therefore, in order not to become the prey of those who, under the name of religion, seek only to enrich themselves at the expense of life and property,[688] bind themselves by a solemn oath to resist the establishment of the Inquisition, under whatever form it may be introduced, and to protect each other against it with their lives and fortunes. In doing this, they protest that, so far from intending anything to the dishonor of the king, their only intent is to maintain the king in his estate, and to preserve the tranquillity of the realm. They conclude with solemnly invoking the blessing of the Almighty on this their lawful and holy confederation.

Such are some of the principal points urged in this remarkable instrument, in which little mention is made of the edicts, every other grievance being swallowed up in that of the detested Inquisition. Indeed, the translations of the "Compromise," which soon appeared, in various languages, usually bore the title of "League of the Nobles of Flanders against the Spanish Inquisition."[689]

It will hardly be denied that those who signed this instrument had already made a decided move in the game of rebellion. They openly arrayed themselves against the execution of the law and the authority of the crown. They charged the king with having violated his oath, and they accused him of abetting a persecution which, under the pretext of religion, had no other object than the spoil of its victims. It was of little moment that all this was done under professions of loyalty. Such professions are the decent cover with which the first approaches are always made in a revolution.--The copies of the instrument differ somewhat from each other. One of these, before me, as if to give the edge of personal insult to their remonstrance, classes in the same category "the vagabond, the priest, and the _Spaniard_."[690]

Among the small company who first subscribed the document, we find names that rose to eminence in the stormy scenes of the revolution. There was Count Louis of Nassau, a younger brother of the prince of Orange, the "_bon chevalier_," as William used to call him,--a title well earned by his generous spirit and many noble and humane qualities. Louis was bred a Lutheran, and was zealously devoted to the cause of reform, when his brother took but a comparatively languid interest in it. His ardent, precipitate temper was often kept in check, and more wisely directed, by the prudent counsels of William; while he amply repaid his brother by his devoted attachment, and by the zeal and intrepidity with which he carried out his plans. Louis, indeed, might be called the right hand of William.

Another of the party was Philip de Marnix, lord of St. Aldegonde. He was the intimate friend of William of Orange. In the words of a Belgian writer, he was one of the beautiful characters of the time;[691] distinguished alike as a soldier, a statesman, and a scholar. It is to his pen that the composition of the "Compromise" has generally been assigned. Some critics have found its tone inconsistent with the sedate and tranquil character of his mind. Yet St. Aldegonde's device, "_Repos ailleurs_,"[692] would seem to indicate a fervid imagination and an impatient spirit of activity.

But the man who seems to have entered most heartily into these first movements of the revolution was Henry, viscount of Brederode. He sprung from an ancient line, boasting his descent from the counts of Holland. The only possession that remained to him, the lordship of Viana, he still claimed to hold as independent of the king of Spain, or any other potentate. His patrimony had been wasted in a course of careless indulgence, and little else was left than barren titles and pretensions,--which, it must be owned, he was not diffident in vaunting. He was fond of convivial pleasures, and had a free, reckless humor, that took with the people, to whom he was still more endeared by his sturdy hatred of oppression. Brederode was, in short, one of those busy, vaporing characters, who make themselves felt at the outset of a revolution, but are soon lost in the course of it; like those ominous birds which with their cries and screams herald in the tempest that soon sweeps them out of sight for ever.

Copies of the "Compromise," with the names attached to it, were soon distributed through all parts of the country, and eagerly signed by great numbers, not merely of the petty nobility and gentry, but of substantial burghers and wealthy merchants, men who had large interests at stake in the community. Hames, king-at-arms of the Golden Fleece, who was a zealous confederate, boasted that the names of two thousand such persons were on his paper.[693] Among them were many Roman Catholics; and we are again called to notice, that in the outset this Protestant revolution received important support from the Catholics themselves, who forgot all religious differences in a common hatred of arbitrary power.

[Sidenote: ALARM OF THE COUNTRY.]

Few, if any, of the great nobles seem to have been among the number of those who signed the "Compromise,"--certainly none of the council of state. It would hardly have done to invite one of the royal councillors--in other words, one of the government--to join the confederacy, when they would have been bound by the obligations of their office to disclose it to the regent.

But if the great lords did not become actual parties to the league, they showed their sympathy with the object of it, by declining to enforce the execution of the laws against which it was directed. On the twenty-fourth of January, 1566, the prince of Orange addressed, from Breda, a letter to the regent, on the occasion of her sending him the despatches from Segovia, for the rule of his government in the provinces. In this remarkable letter, William exposes, with greater freedom than he was wont, his reasons for refusing to comply with the royal orders. "I express myself freely and frankly," he says, "on a topic on which I have not been consulted; but I do so, lest by my silence I may incur the responsibility of the mischief that must ensue." He then briefly, and in a decided tone, touches on the evils of the Inquisition,--introduced, as he says, contrary to the repeated pledges of the king,--and on the edicts. Great indulgence had been of late shown in the interpretation of these latter; and to revive them on a sudden, so as to execute them with their ancient rigor, would be most disastrous. There could not be a worse time than the present, when the people were sorely pressed by scarcity of food, and in a critical state from the religious agitations on their borders. It might cost the king his empire in the Netherlands, and throw it into the hands of his neighbors.[694]

"For my own part," he concludes, "if his majesty insists on the execution of these measures, rather than incur the stain which must rest on me and my house by attempting it, I will resign my office into the hands of some one better acquainted with the humors of the people, and who will be better able to maintain order in the country."[695]

In the same tone several of the other provincial governors replied to Margaret, declaring that they could never coolly stand by and see fifty or sixty thousand of their countrymen burned to death for errors of religion.[696] The regent was sorely perplexed by this desertion of the men on whom she most relied. She wrote to them in a strain of expostulation, and besought the prince, in particular, not to add to the troubles of the time, by abandoning his post, where the attachment of the people gave him such unbounded influence.[697]

The agitations of the country, in the mean time, continued to increase. There was a scarcity of bread,--so often the forerunner of revolution,--and this article had risen to an enormous price. The people were menaced with famine, which might have led to serious consequences, but for a temporary relief from Spain.[698]

Rumors now began to be widely circulated of the speedy coming of Philip, with a large army, to chastise his vassals; and the rumors gained easy credit with those who felt they were already within the pale of rebellion. Duke Eric of Brunswick was making numerous levies on the German borders, and it was generally believed that their destination was Flanders. It was in vain that Margaret, who ascertained the falsehood of the report, endeavored to undeceive the people.[699]

[Sidenote: PHILIP'S INFLEXIBILITY.]

A short time previously, in the month of June, an interview had taken place, at Bayonne, between the queen-mother, Catherine de Medicis, and her daughter, Isabella of Spain. Instead of her husband, Isabella was accompanied at this interview by the counsellor in whom he most trusted, the duke of Alva. The two queens were each attended by a splendid retinue of nobles. The meeting was prolonged for several days, amidst a succession of balls, tourneys, and magnificent banquets, at which the costly dress and equipage of the French nobility contrasted strangely enough with the no less ostentatious simplicity of the Spaniards. This simplicity, so contrary to the usual pomp of the Castilian, was in obedience to the orders of Philip, who, foreseeing the national emulation, forbade the indulgence of it at a foolish cost, which in the end was severely felt by the shattered finances of France.

Amid the brilliant pageants which occupied the public eye, secret conferences were daily carried on between Catherine and the duke of Alva. The results were never published, but enough found its way into the light to show that the principal object was the extermination of heresy in France and the Netherlands. The queen-mother was for milder measures,--though slower not less sure. But the iron-hearted duke insisted that to grant liberty of conscience was to grant unbounded licence. The only way to exterminate the evil was by fire and sword! It was on this occasion that, when Catherine suggested that it was easier to deal with the refractory commons than with the nobles, Alva replied, "True, but ten thousand frogs are not worth the head of a single salmon."[700]--an ominous simile, which was afterwards remembered against its author, when he ruled over the Netherlands.[701]

The report of these dark conferences had reached the Low Countries, where it was universally believed that the object of them was to secure the coöperation of France in crushing the liberties of Flanders.[702]

[Sidenote: ALARM OF THE COUNTRY.]

In the panic thus spread throughout the country, the more timid or prudent, especially of those who dwelt in the seaports, began to take measures for avoiding these evils by emigration. They sought refuge in Protestant states, and especially in England, where no less than thirty thousand, we are told by a contemporary, took shelter under the sceptre of Elizabeth.[703] They swarmed in the cities of London and Sandwich, and the politic queen assigned them also the seaport of Norwich as their residence. Thus Flemish industry was transferred to English soil. The course of trade between the two nations now underwent a change. The silk and woollen stuffs, which had formerly been sent from Flanders to England, became the staple of a large export-trade from England to Flanders. "The Low Countries," writes the correspondent of Granvelle, "are the Indies of the English, who make war on our purses, as the French, some years since, made war on our towns."[704]

Some of the Flemish provinces, instead of giving way to despondency, appealed sturdily to their charters, to rescue them from the arbitrary measures of the crown. The principal towns of Brabant, with Antwerp at their head, intrenched themselves behind their _Joyeuse Entrée_. The question was brought before the council; a decree was given in favor of the applicants, and ratified by the regent; and the free soil of Brabant was no longer polluted by the presence of the Inquisition.[705]

The gloom now became deeper round the throne of the regent. Of all in the Netherlands, the person least to be envied was the one who ruled over them. Weaned from her attachment to Granvelle by the influence of the lords, Margaret now found herself compelled to resume the arbitrary policy which she disapproved, and to forfeit the support of the very party to which of late she had given all her confidence. The lords in the council withdrew from her, the magistrates in the provinces thwarted her, and large masses of the population were arrayed in actual resistance against the government. It may seem strange that it was not till the spring of 1566 that she received positive tidings of the existence of the league, when she was informed of it by Egmont, and some others of the council of state.[706] As usual, the rumor went beyond the truth. Twenty or thirty thousand men were said to be in arms, and half that number to be prepared to march on Brussels, and seize the person of the regent, unless she complied with their demands.[707]

For a moment Margaret thought of taking refuge in the citadel. But she soon rallied, and showed the spirit to have been expected in the daughter of Charles the Fifth. She ordered the garrisons to be strengthened in the fortresses throughout the country. She summoned the companies of _ordonnance_ to the capital, and caused them to renew their oaths of fidelity to the king. She wrote to the Spanish ministers at the neighboring courts, informed them of the league, and warned them to allow no aid to be sent to it from the countries where they resided. Finally, she called a meeting of the knights of the Golden Fleece and the council of state, for the twenty-seventh of March, to deliberate on the perilous situation of the country. Having completed these arrangements, the duchess wrote to her brother, informing him exactly of the condition of things, and suggesting what seemed to her counsellors the most effectual remedy. She wrote the more freely, as her love of power had yielded to a sincere desire to extricate herself from the trials and troubles which attended it.[708]

There were but two courses, she said, force or concession.[709] The former, to say nothing of the ruin it would bring on the land, was rendered difficult by want of money to pay the troops, and by the want of trustworthy officers, to command them. Concessions must consist in abolishing the Inquisition,--a useless tribunal where sectaries swarmed openly in the cities,--in modifying the edicts, and in granting a free pardon to all who had signed the Compromise, provided they would return to their duty.[710] On these terms, the lords of the council were willing to guaranty the obedience of the people. At all events, they promised Margaret their support in enforcing it. She would not express her own preference for either of the alternatives presented to Philip; but would faithfully execute his commands, whatever they might be, to the best of her ability.--Without directly expressing her preference, it was pretty clear on which side it lay. Margaret concluded by earnestly beseeching her brother to return an immediate answer to her despatches by the courier who bore them.

[Sidenote: ORANGE AND EGMONT.]

The person who seems to have enjoyed the largest share of Margaret's confidence, at this time, was Egmont. He remained at Brussels, and still kept his seat in council after William had withdrawn to his estates in Breda. Yet the prince, although he had left Brussels in disgust, had not taken part with the confederates; much less--as was falsely rumored, and to his great annoyance--put himself at their head.[711] His brother, it is true, and some of his particular friends, had joined the league. But Louis declares that he did so without the knowledge of William. When the latter, a fortnight afterwards, learned the existence of the league, he expressed his entire disapprobation of it.[712] He even used his authority, we are told, to prevent the confederates from resorting to some violent measures, among others the seizure of Antwerp, promising that he would aid them to accomplish their ends in a more orderly way.[713] What he desired was, to have the states-general called together by the king. But he would not assume a hostile attitude, like that of the confederates, to force him into this unpalatable measure.[714] When convened, he would have had the legislature, without transcending its constitutional limits, remonstrate, and lay the grievances of the nation before the throne.

This temperate mode of proceeding did not suit the hot blood of the younger confederates. "Your brother," writes Hames to Louis, "is too slow and lukewarm. He would have us employ only remonstrance against these hungry wolves; against enemies who do nothing in return but behead, and banish, and burn us. We are to do the talking, and they the

## acting. We must fight with the pen, while they fight with the

sword."[715]

The truth was, that William was not possessed of the fiery zeal which animated most of the Reformers. In his early years, as we have seen, he had been subjected to the influence of the Protestant religion at one period, and of the Roman Catholic at another. If the result of this had been to beget in him something like a philosophical indifference to the great questions in dispute, it had proved eminently favorable to a spirit of toleration. He shrunk from that system of persecution which proscribed men for their religious opinions. Soon after the arrival of the despatches from Segovia, William wrote to a friend: "The king orders, not only obstinate heretics, but even the penitent, to be put to death. I know not how I can endure this. It does not seem to me that such measures are either Christian-like or practicable."[716] In another letter he says: "I greatly fear these despatches will drive men into rebellion. I should be glad, if I could, to save my country from ruin, and so many innocent persons from slaughter. But when I say anything in the council, I am sure to be misinterpreted. So I am greatly perplexed; since speech and silence are equally bad."[717]

## Acting with his habitual caution, therefore, he spoke little, and seldom

expressed his sentiments in writing. "The less one puts in writing," he said to his less prudent brother, "the better."[718] Yet when the occasion demanded it, he did not shrink from a plain avowal of his sentiments, both in speaking and writing. Such was the speech he delivered in council before Egmont's journey to Spain; and in the same key was the letter which he addressed to the regent on receiving the despatches from Segovia. But, whatever might be his reserve, his real opinions were not misunderstood. He showed them too plainly by his

## actions. When Philip's final instructions were made known to him by

Margaret, the prince, as he had before done under Granvelle, ceased to attend the meetings of the council, and withdrew from Brussels.[719] He met in Breda, and afterwards in Hoogstraten, in the spring of 1566, a number of the principal nobles, under cover, as usual, of a banquet. Discussions took place on the state of the country, and some of the confederates who were present at the former place were for more violent measures than William approved. As he could not bring them over to his own temperate policy, he acquiesced in the draft of a petition, which, as we shall see in the ensuing chapter, was presented to the regent.[720] On the whole, up to the period at which we are arrived, the conduct of the prince of Orange must be allowed to have been wise and consistent. In some respects it forms a contrast to that of his more brilliant rival, Count Egmont.

This nobleman was sincerely devoted to the Roman Catholic faith. He was stanch in his loyalty to the king. At the same time he was ardently attached to his country, and felt a generous indignation at the wrongs she suffered from her rulers. Thus Egmont was acted on by opposite feelings; and, as he was a man of impulse, his conduct, as he yielded sometimes to the one and sometimes to the other of these influences, might be charged with inconsistency. None charged him with insincerity.

There was that in Egmont's character which early led the penetrating Granvelle to point him out to Philip as a man who by politic treatment might be secured to the royal cause.[721] Philip and his sister, the regent, both acted on this hint. They would hardly have attempted as much with William. Egmont's personal vanity made him more accessible to their approaches. It was this, perhaps, quite as much as any feeling of loyalty, which, notwithstanding the affront put on him, as he conceived, by the king, induced him to remain at Brussels, and supply the place in the councils of the regent which William had left vacant. Yet we find one of Granvelle's correspondents speaking of Egmont as too closely united with the lords to be detached from them. "To say truth," says the writer, "he even falters in his religion; and whatever he may say to-day on this point, he will be sure to say the contrary to-morrow."[722] Such a man, who could not be true to himself, could hardly become the leader of others.

[Sidenote: DESIGN OF THE CONFEDERATES.]

"They put Egmont forward," writes the regent's secretary, "as the boldest, to say what other men dare not say."[723] This was after the despatches had been received. "He complains bitterly," continues the writer, "of the king's insincerity. The prince has more _finesse_. He has also more credit with the nation. If you could gain him, you will secure all."[724] Yet Philip did not try to gain him. With all his wealth, he was not rich enough to do it. He knew this, and he hated William with the hatred which a despotic monarch naturally bears to a vassal of such a temper. He perfectly understood the character of William. The nation understood it too; and, with all their admiration for the generous qualities of Egmont, it was to his greater rival that they looked to guide them in the coming struggle of the revolution.

##