Title: The Rise of the Dutch Republic — Volume 30: 1579-80
Author: Motley, John Lothrop
Language: English
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THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1579-1580

By John Lothrop Motley

1855



CHAPTER II.

     Parma's feint upon Antwerp--He invests Maestricht--Deputation and
     letters from the states-general, from Brussels, and from Parma, to
     the Walloon provinces--Active negotiations by Orange and by Farnese
     --Walloon envoys in Parma's camp before Maestricht--Festivities--The
     Treaty of Reconciliation--Rejoicings of the royalist party--Comedy
     enacted at the Paris theatres--Religious tumults in Antwerp,
     Utrecht, and other cities--Religious Peace enforced by Orange--
     Philip Egmont's unsuccessful attempt upon Brussels--Siege of
     Maestricht--Failure at the Tongres gate--Mining and countermining--
     Partial destruction of the Tongres ravelin--Simultaneous attack upon
     the Tongres and Bolls-le-Duo gates--The Spaniards repulsed with
     great loss--Gradual encroachments of the besiegers--Bloody contests
     --The town taken--Horrible massacre--Triumphal entrance and solemn
     thanksgiving--Calumnious attacks upon Orange--Renewed troubles in
     Ghent--Imbue and Dathenus--The presence of the Prince solicited--
     Coup d'etat of Imbue--Order restored, and Imbue expelled by Orange

The political movements in both directions were to be hastened by the
military operations of the opening season.  On the night of the 2nd of
March, 1579, the Prince of Parma made a demonstration against Antwerp.
A body of three thousand Scotch and English, lying at Borgerhout, was
rapidly driven in, and a warm skirmish ensued, directly under the walls
of the city.  The Prince of Orange, with the Archduke Matthias, being in
Antwerp at the time, remained on the fortifications; superintending the
action, and Parma was obliged to retire after an hour or two of sharp
fighting, with a loss of four hundred men.  This demonstration was,
however, only a feint.  His real design was upon Maestricht; before which
important city he appeared in great force, ten days afterwards,
when he was least expected.

Well fortified, surrounded by a broad and deep moat; built upon both
sides of the Meuse, upon the right bank of which river, however, the
portion of the town was so inconsiderable that it was merely called the
village of Wyk, this key to the German gate of the Netherlands was,
unfortunately, in brave but feeble hands.  The garrison was hardly one
thousand strong; the trained bands of burghers amounted to twelve hundred
more; while between three and four thousand peasants; who had taken
refuge within the city walls, did excellent service as sappers and
miners.  Parma, on the other hand, had appeared before the walls with
twenty thousand men; to which number he received constant reinforcements.
The Bishop of Liege, too, had sent him four thousand pioneers--a most
important service; for mining and countermining was to decide the fate of
Maestricht.

Early in January the royalists had surprised the strong chateau of
Carpen, in the neighbourhood of the city, upon which occasion the
garrison were all hanged by moonlight on the trees in the orchard.  The
commandant shared their fate; and it is a curious fact that he had,
precisely a year previously, hanged the royalist captain, Blomaert, on
the same spot, who, with the rope around his neck, had foretold a like
doom to his destroyer.

The Prince of Orange, feeling the danger of Maestricht, lost no time in
warning the states to the necessary measures, imploring them "not to fall
asleep in the shade of a peace negotiation," while meantime Parma threw
two bridges over the Meuse, above and below the city, and then invested
the place so closely that all communication was absolutely suspended.
Letters could pass to and fro only at extreme peril to the messengers,
and all possibility of reinforcing the city at the moment was cut off.

While this eventful siege was proceeding, the negotiations with the
Walloons were ripening.  The siege and the conferences went hand in hand.
Besides the secret arrangements already described for the separation of
the Walloon provinces, there had been much earnest and eloquent
remonstrance on the part of the states-general and of Orange--many solemn
embassies and public appeals.  As usual, the Pacification of Ghent was
the two-sided shield which hung between the parties to cover or to
justify the blows which each dealt at the other.  There is no doubt as to
the real opinion entertained concerning that famous treaty by the royal
party.  "Through the peace of Ghent," said Saint Vaast, "all our woes
have been brought upon us."  La Motte informed Parma that it was
necessary to pretend a respect for the Pacification, however, on account
of its popularity, but that it was well understood by the leaders of the
Walloon movement, that the intention was to restore the system of Charles
the Fifth.  Parma signified his consent to make use of that treaty as a
basis, "provided always it were interpreted healthily, and not dislocated
by cavillations and sinister interpolations, as had been done by the
Prince of Orange."  The Malcontent generals of the Walloon troops were
inexpressibly anxious lest the cause of religion should be endangered;
but the arguments by which Parma convinced those military casuists as to
the compatibility of the Ghent peace with sound doctrine have already
been exhibited.  The influence of the reconciled nobles was brought to
bear with fatal effect upon the states of Artois, Hainault, and of a
portion of French Flanders.  The Gallic element in their blood, and an
intense attachment to the Roman ceremonial, which distinguished the
Walloon population from their Batavian brethren, were used successfully
by the wily Parma to destroy the unity of the revolted Netherlands.
Moreover, the King offered good terms.  The monarch, feeling safe on the
religious point, was willing to make liberal promises upon the political
questions.  In truth, the great grievance of which the Walloons
complained was the insolence and intolerable outrages of the foreign
soldiers.  This, they said, had alone made them malcontent.  It was;
therefore, obviously the cue of Parma to promise the immediate departure
of the troops.  This could be done the more easily, as he had no
intention of keeping the promise.

Meantime the efforts of Orange, and of the states-general, where his
influence was still paramount, were unceasing to counteract the policy of
Parma.  A deputation was appointed by the generality to visit the estates
of the Walloon provinces.  Another was sent by the authorities of
Brussels.  The Marquis of Havre, with several colleagues on behalf of
the states-general, waited upon the Viscount of Ghent, by whom they were
received with extreme insolence.  He glared upon them, without moving,
as they were admitted to his presence; "looking like a dead man, from
whom the soul had entirely departed."  Recovering afterwards from this
stony trance of indignation, he demanded a sight of their instructions.
This they courteously refused, as they were accredited not to him, but
to the states of Artois.  At this he fell into a violent passion, and
threatened them with signal chastisement for daring to come thither with
so treasonable a purpose.  In short, according to their own expression;
he treated them "as if they had been rogues and vagabonds."  The Marquis
of Havre, high-born though he was, had been sufficiently used to such
conduct.  The man who had successively served and betrayed every party,
who had been the obsequious friend and the avowed enemy of Don John
within the same fortnight, and who had been able to swallow and inwardly
digest many an insult from that fiery warrior, was even fain to brook the
insolence of Robert Melun.

The papers which the deputation had brought were finally laid before
the states of Artois, and received replies as prompt and bitter as the
addresses were earnest and eloquent.  The Walloons, when summoned to hold
to that aegis of national unity, the Ghent peace, replied that it was not
they, but the heretic portion of the states-general, who were for dashing
it to the ground.  The Ghent treaty was never intended to impair the
supremacy of the Catholic religion, said those provinces, which were
already on the point of separating for ever from the rest.  The Ghent
treaty was intended expressly to destroy the inquisition and the
placards, answered the national-party.  Moreover, the "very marrow of
that treaty" was the-departure of the foreign soldiers, who were even
then overrunning the land.  The Walloons answered that Alexander had
expressly conceded the withdrawal of the troops.  "Believe not the
fluting and the piping of the crafty foe," urged the patriots.  "Promises
are made profusely enough--but only to lure you to perdition.  Your
enemies allow you to slake your hunger and thirst with this idle hope of
the troops' departure, but you are still in fetters, although the chain
be of Spanish pinchbeck, which you mistake for gold."  "'Tis not we,"
cried the Walloons, "who wish to separate from the generality; 'tis the
generality which separates from us.  We had rather die the death than not
maintain the union.  In the very same breath, however, they boasted of
the excellent terms which the monarch was offering, and of their strong
inclination to accept them."  "Kings, struggling to recover a lost
authority, always promise golden mountains and every sort of miracles,"
replied the patriots; but the warning was uttered in vain.

Meantime the deputation from the city of Brussels arrived on the 28th of
March at Mons, in Hainault, where they were received with great courtesy
by Count de Lalain, governor of the province.  The enthusiasm with which
he had espoused the cause of Queen Margaret and her brother Anjou had
cooled, but the Count received the Brussels envoys with a kindness in
marked contrast with the brutality of Melun.  He made many fine speeches
--protesting his attachment to, the union, for which he was ready to shed
the last drop of his blood--entertained the deputies at dinner, proposed
toasts to the prosperity of the united provinces, and dismissed his
guests at last with many flowery professions.  After dancing attendance
for a few days, however, upon the estates of the Walloon provinces, both
sets of deputies were warned to take their instant departure as mischief-
makers and rebels.  They returned, accordingly, to Brussels, bringing the
written answers which the estates had vouchsafed to send.

The states-general, too, inspired by William of Orange, addressed a
solemn appeal to their sister provinces, thus about to abjure the bonds
of relationship for ever.  It seemed right, once for all, to grapple with
the Ghent Pacification for the last time, and to strike a final blow in
defence of that large statesmanlike interpretation, which alone could
make the treaty live.  This was done eloquently and logically.  The
Walloons were reminded that at the epoch of the Ghent peace the number of
Reformers outside of Holland and Zealand was supposed small.  Now the new
religion had spread its roots through the whole land, and innumerable
multitudes desired its exercise.  If Holland and Zealand chose to
reestablish the Catholic worship within their borders, they could
manifestly do so without violating the treaty of Ghent.  Why then was
it not competent to other provinces, with equal allegiance to the treaty,
to sanction the Reformed religion within their limits?

Parma, on his part, publicly invited the states-general, by letter, to
sustain the Ghent treaty by accepting the terms offered to the Walloons,
and by restoring the system of the Emperor Charles, of very lofty memory.
To this superfluous invitation the states-general replied, on the 19th of
March, that it had been the system of the Emperor Charles; of lofty
memory, to maintain the supremacy of Catholicism and of Majesty in the
Netherlands by burning Netherlanders--a custom which the states, with
common accord, had thought it desirable to do away with.

In various fervently-written appeals by Orange, by the states-general,
and by other bodies, the wavering provinces were warned against
seduction.  They were reminded that the Prince of Parma was using this
minor negotiation "as a second string to his bow;" that nothing could be
more puerile than to suppose the Spaniards capable, after securing
Maestricht, of sending away their troops thus "deserting the bride in the
midst of the honeymoon."  They expressed astonishment at being invited to
abandon the great and general treaty which had been made upon the theatre
of the whole world by the intervention of the principal princes of
Christendom, in order to partake in underhand negotiation with the
commissioners of Parma-men, "who, it would not be denied, were felons and
traitors."  They warned their brethren not to embark on the enemy's ships
in the dark, for that, while chaffering as to the price of the voyage,
they would find that the false pilots had hoisted sail and borne them
away in the night.  In vain would they then seek to reach the shore
again.  The example of La Motte and others, "bird-limed with Spanish
gold," should be salutary for all-men who were now driven forward with a
whip, laughed to scorn by their new masters, and forced to drink the
bitter draught of humiliation along with the sweet poison of bribery.
They were warned to study well the intercepted letters of Curiel, in
order fully to fathom the deep designs and secret contempt of the enemy.

Such having been the result of the negotiations between the states-
general and the Walloon provinces, a strong deputation now went forth
from those provinces, towards the end of April, to hold a final colloquy
with Parma, then already busied with the investment of Maestricht.  They
were met upon the road with great ceremony, and escorted into the
presence of Farnese with drum, trumpet, and flaunting banners.
He received them with stately affability, in a magnificently decorated
pavilion, carelessly inviting them to a repast, which he called an
afternoon's lunch, but which proved a most sumptuous and splendidly
appointed entertainment.  This "trifling foolish banquet" finished, the
deputies were escorted, with great military parade, to the lodgings which
had been provided for them in a neighbouring village.  During the period
of their visit, all the chief officers of the army and the household were
directed to entertain the Walloons with showy festivals, dinners,
suppers, dances, and carousals of all kinds.  At one of the most
brilliant of these revels--a magnificent ball, to which all the matrons
and maids of the whole country round had been bidden--the Prince of Parma
himself unexpectedly made his appearance.  He gently rebuked the
entertainers for indulging in such splendid hospitality without,
at least, permitting him to partake of it.  Charmingly affable to the
ladies assembled in the ball-room, courteous, but slightly reserved,
towards the Walloon envoys, he excited the admiration of all by the
splendid decorum of his manners.  As he moved through the halls,
modulating his steps in grave cadence to the music, the dignity and grace
of his deportment seemed truly majestic; but when he actually danced a
measure himself the enthusiasm was at its height.  They should, indeed,
be rustics, cried the Walloon envoys in a breath, not to give the hand
of fellowship at once to a Prince so condescending and amiable.  The
exclamation seemed to embody the general wish, and to foreshadow a speedy
conclusion.

Very soon afterwards a preliminary accord was signed between the King's
government and the Walloon provinces.  The provisions on his Majesty's
part were sufficiently liberal.  The religious question furnishing no
obstacle, it was comparatively easy for Philip to appear benignant.  It
was stipulated that the provincial privileges should be respected; that a
member of the King's own family, legitimately born, should always be
Governor-General, and that the foreign troops should be immediately
withdrawn.  The official exchange and ratification of this treaty were
delayed till the 4th of the following September, but the news that, the
reconciliation had been definitely settled soon spread through the
country.  The Catholics were elated, the patriots dismayed.  Orange-the
"Prince of Darkness," as the Walloons of the day were fond of calling
him--still unwilling to despair, reluctant to accept this dismemberment,
which he foresaw was to be a perpetual one, of his beloved country,
addressed the most passionate and solemn adjurations to the Walloon
provinces, and to their military chieftains.  He offered all his children
as hostages for his good faith in keeping sacredly any covenant which his
Catholic countrymen might be willing to close with him.  It was in vain.
The step was irretrievably taken; religious bigotry, patrician jealousy,
and wholesale bribery, had severed the Netherlands in twain for ever.
The friends of Romanism, the enemies of civil and religious liberty,
exulted from one end of Christendom to the other, and it was recognized
that Parma had, indeed, achieved a victory which although bloodless, was
as important to the cause of absolutism as any which even his sword was
likely to achieve.

The joy of the Catholic party in Paris manifested itself in a variety of
ways.  At the principal theatre an uncouth pantomime was exhibited, in
which his Catholic Majesty was introduced upon the stage, leading by a
halter a sleek cow, typifying the Netherlands.  The animal by a sudden
effort, broke the cord, and capered wildly about.  Alexander of Parma
hastened to fasten the fragments together, while sundry personages,
representing the states-general, seized her by the horns, some leaping
upon her back, others calling upon the bystanders to assist in holding
the restive beast.  The Emperor, the King of France, and the Queen of
England--which last personage was observed now to smile upon one party,
now to affect deep sympathy with the other--remained stationary; but the
Duke of Alencon rushed upon the stage, and caught the cow by the tail.
The Prince of Orange and Hans Casimir then appeared with a bucket, and
set themselves busily to milk her, when Alexander again seized the
halter.  The cow gave a plunge, upset the pail, prostrated Casimir with
one kick and Orange with another, and then followed Parma with docility
as be led her back to Philip.  This seems not very "admirable fooling,"
but it was highly relished by the polite Parisians of the sixteenth
century, and has been thought worthy of record by classical historians.

The Walloon accord was an auspicious prelude, in the eyes of the friends
of absolutism, to the negotiations which were opened in the month of May,
at Cologne.  Before sketching, as rapidly as possible, those celebrated
but barren conferences, it is necessary, for the sake of unity in the
narrative, to cast a glance at certain synchronical events in different
parts of the Netherlands.

The success attained by the Catholic party in the Walloon negotiations
had caused a corresponding bitterness in the hearts of the Reformers
throughout the country.  As usual, bitterness had begot bitterness;
intolerance engendered intolerance.  On the 28th of May, 1579, as the
Catholics of Antwerp were celebrating the Ommegang--the same festival
which had been the exciting cause of the memorable tumults of the year
sixty-five--the irritation of the populace could not be repressed.  The
mob rose in its wrath to put down these demonstrations--which, taken in
connection with recent events, seemed ill-timed and insolent--of a
religion whose votaries then formed but a small minority of the Antwerp
citizens.  There was a great tumult.  Two persons were killed.  The
Archduke Matthias, who was himself in the Cathedral of Notre Dame
assisting at the ceremony, was in danger of his life.  The well known cry
of "paapen uit" (out with the papists) resounded through the streets, and
the priests and monks were all hustled out of town amid a tempest of
execrations.  Orange did his utmost to quell the mutiny, nor were his
efforts fruitless--for the uproar, although seditious and disgraceful,
was hardly sanguinary.  Next day the Prince summoned the magistracy,
the Monday council, the guild officers, with all the chief municipal
functionaries, and expressed his indignation in decided terms.  He
protested that if such tumults, originating in that very spirit of
intolerance which he most deplored, could not be repressed for the
future, he was determined to resign his offices, and no longer to affect
authority in a city where his counsels were derided.  The magistrates,
alarmed at his threats, and sympathizing with his anger, implored him not
to desert them, protesting that if he should resign his offices, they
would instantly lay down their, own.  An ordinance was then drawn up and
immediately, proclaimed at the Town House, permitting the Catholics to
re-enter the city, and to enjoy the privileges of religious worship.  At
the same time, it was announced that a new draft of a religious peace
would be forthwith issued for the adoption of every city.

A similar tumult, arising from the same cause, at Utrecht, was attended
with the like result.  On the other hand, the city of Brussels was
astonished by a feeble and unsuccessful attempts at treason, made by a
youth who bore an illustrious name.  Philip, Count of Egmont, eldest son
of the unfortunate Lamoral, had command of a regiment in the service of
the states.  He had, besides, a small body of cavalry  in immediate
attendance upon his person.  He had for some time felt inclined--like the
Lalains, Meluns, La Mottes, and others to reconcile himself with the
Crown, and he wisely thought that the terms accorded to him would be more
liberal if he could bring the capital of Brabant with him as a peace
offering to his Majesty.  His residence was in Brussels.  His regiment
was stationed outside the gates, but in the immediate neighbourhood of
the city.  On the morning of the 4th of June he despatched his troopers--
as had been frequently his custom--on various errands into the country.
On their return, after having summoned the regiment, they easily mastered
and butchered the guard at the gate through which they had re-entered,
supplying their place with men from their own ranks.  The Egmont regiment
then came marching through the gate in good order--Count Philip at their
head--and proceeded to station themselves upon the Grande Place in the
centre of the city.  All this was at dawn of day.  The burghers, who
looked forth from their houses, were astounded and perplexed by this
movement at so unwonted an hour, and hastened to seize their weapons.
Egmont sent a detachment to take possession of the palace.  He was too
late. Colonel Van der Tympel, commandant of the city, had been beforehand
with him, had got his troops under arms, and now secured the rebellious
detachment.  Meantime, the alarm had spread.  Armed burghers came from
every house, and barricades were hastily thrown up across every one of
the narrow streets leading to the square.  Every issue was closed.  Not a
man of Egmont's adherents--if he indeed had adherents among the townsmen
--dared to show his face.  The young traitor and his whole regiment,
drawn up on the Grande Place, were completely entrapped.  He had not
taken Brussels, but assuredly Brussels had taken him.  All day long he
was kept in his self-elected prison and pillory, bursting with rage and
shame.  His soldiers, who were without meat or drink, became insolent and
uproarious, and he was doomed also to hear the bitter and well-merited
taunts of the towns-people.  A thousand stinging gibes, suggested by his
name and the locality, were mercilessly launched upon him.  He was asked
if he came thither to seek his father's head.  He was reminded that the
morrow was the anniversary of that father's murder upon that very spot--
by those with whom the son would now make his treasonable peace.  He was
bidden to tear up but a few stones from the pavement beneath his feet,
that the hero's blood might cry out against him from the very ground.

Tears of shame and fury sprang from the young man's eyes as he listened
to these biting sarcasms, but the night closed upon that memorable
square, and still the Count was a prisoner.  Eleven years before, the
summer stars had looked down upon a more dense array of armed men within
that place.  The preparations for the pompous and dramatic execution,
which on the morrow was to startle all Europe, had been carried out in
the midst of a hushed and overawed population; and now, on the very
anniversary of the midnight in which that scaffold had risen, should not
the grand spectre of the victim have started from the grave to chide his
traitorous son?

Thus for a whole day and night was the baffled conspirator compelled to
remain in the ignominious position which he had selected for himself.  On
the morning of the 5th of June he was permitted to depart, by a somewhat
inexplicable indulgence, together with all his followers.  He rode out of
the gate at early dawn, contemptible and crest-fallen, at the head of his
regiment of traitors, and shortly afterwards--pillaging and levying black
mail as he went--made his way to Montigny's quarters.

It might have seemed natural, after such an exhibition, that Philip
Egmont should accept his character of renegade, and confess his intention
of reconciling himself with the murderers of his father.  On the
contrary, he addressed a letter to the magistracy of Brussels, denying
with vehemence "any intention of joining the party of the pernicious
Spaniards," warmly protesting his zeal and affection for the states, and
denouncing the "perverse inventors of these calumnies against him as the
worst enemies of the poor afflicted country."  The magistrates replied by
expressing their inability to comprehend how the Count, who had suffered
villainous wrongs from the Spaniards, such as he could never sufficiently
deplore or avenge, should ever be willing to enslave himself, to those
tyrants.  Nevertheless, exactly at the moment of this correspondence,
Egmont was in close negotiation with Spain, having fifteen days before
the date of his letter to the Brussels senate, conveyed to Parma his
resolution to "embrace the cause of his Majesty and the ancient
religion"--an intention which he vaunted himself to have proved "by
cutting the throats of three companies of states' soldiers at Nivelle,
Grandmont, and Ninove."  Parma had already written to communicate the
intelligence to the King, and to beg encouragement for the Count.  In
September, the monarch wrote a letter to Egmont, full of gratitude and
promises, to which the Count replied by expressing lively gratification
that his Majesty was pleased with his little services, by avowing
profound attachment to Church and King, and by asking eagerly for money,
together with the government of Alost.  He soon became singularly
importunate for rewards and promotion, demanding, among other posts, the
command of the "band of ordnance," which had been his father's.  Parma,
in reply, was prodigal of promises, reminding the young noble "that he
was serving a sovereign who well knew how to reward the distinguished
exploits of his subjects."  Such was the language of Philip the Second
and his Governor to the son of the headless hero of Saint Quentin; such
was the fawning obsequiousness with which Egmont could kiss that royal
hand reeking with his father's blood.

Meanwhile the siege of Maestricht had been advancing with steady
precision.  To military minds of that epoch--perhaps of later ages--this
achievement of Parma seemed a masterpiece of art.  The city commanded the
Upper Meuse, and was the gate into Germany.  It contained thirty-four
thousand inhabitants.  An army, numbering almost as many Souls, was
brought against it; and the number of deaths by which its capture was at
last effected, was probably equal to that of a moiety of the population.
To the technical mind, the siege no doubt seemed a beautiful creation of
human intelligence.  To the honest student of history, to the lover of
human progress, such a manifestation of intellect seems a sufficiently
sad exhibition.  Given, a city with strong walls and towers, a slender
garrison and a devoted population on one side; a consummate chieftain on
the other, with an army of veterans at his back, no interruption to fear,
and a long season to work in; it would not seem to an unsophisticated
mind a very lofty exploit for the soldier to carry the city at the end of
four months' hard labor.

The investment of Maestricht was commenced upon the 12th of March, 1579.
In the city, besides the population, there were two thousand peasants,
both men and women, a garrison of one thousand soldiers; and a trained
burgher guard; numbering about twelve hundred.  The name of the military
commandant was Melchior.  Sebastian Tappin, a Lorraine officer of much
experience and bravery, was next in command, and was, in truth, the
principal director of the operations.  He had been despatched thither by
the Prince of Orange, to serve under La None, who was to have commanded
in Maestricht, but had been unable to enter the city.  Feeling that the
siege was to be a close one, and knowing how much depended upon the
issue, Sebastian lost no time in making every needful preparation for
coming events.  The walls were strengthened everywhere; shafts were sunk,
preparatory to the countermining operations which were soon to become
necessary; the moat was deepened and cleared, and the forts near the
gates were put in thorough repair.  On the other hand, Alexander had
encircled the city, and had thrown two bridges, well fortified, across
the river.  There were six gates to the town, each provided with
ravelins, and there was a doubt in what direction the first attack should
be made.  Opinions wavered between the gate of Bois-le-Duc, next the
river, and that of Tongres on the south-western side, but it was finally
decided to attempt the gate of Tongres.

Over against that point the platforms were accordingly constructed, and
after a heavy cannonade from forty-six great guns continued for several
days, it was thought, by the 25th of March, that an impression had been
made upon the city.  A portion of the brick curtain had crumbled, but
through the breach was seen a massive terreplein, well moated, which,
after six thousand shots already delivered on the outer wall--still
remained uninjured.  It was recognized that the gate of Tongres was not
the most assailable, but rather the strongest portion of the defences,
and Alexander therefore determined to shift his batteries to the gate of
Bois-le-Duc.  At the same time, the attempt upon that of Tongres was to
be varied, but not abandoned.  Four thousand miners, who had passed half
their lives in burrowing for coal in that anthracite region, had been
furnished by the Bishop of Liege, and this force was now set to their
subterranean work.  A mine having been opened at a distance, the
besiegers slowly worked their way towards the Tongres gate, while at the
same time the more ostensible operations were in the opposite direction.
The besieged had their miners also, for the peasants in the city had been
used to work with mattock and pickaxe.  The women, too, enrolled
themselves into companies, chose their officers--or "mine-mistresses," as
they were called--and did good service daily in the caverns of the earth.
Thus a whole army of gnomes were noiselessly at work to destroy and
defend the beleaguered city.  The mine advanced towards the gate; the
besieged delved deeper, and intersected it with a transverse excavation,
and the contending forces met daily, in deadly encounter, within these
sepulchral gangways.  Many stratagems were, mutually employed.  The
citizens secretly constructed a dam across the Spanish mine, and then
deluged their foe with hogsheads of boiling water.  Hundreds were thus
scalded to death.  They heaped branches and light fagots in the hostile
mine, set fire to the pile, and blew thick volumes of smoke along the
passage with organ-bellows brought from the churches for the purpose.
Many were thus suffocated.  The discomfited besiegers abandoned the mine
where they had met with such able countermining, and sunk another shaft,
at midnight, in secret, at a long distance from the Tongres gate.  Still
towards that point, however, they burrowed in the darkness; guiding
themselves to their destination with magnet, plumbline and level, as the
mariner crosses the trackless ocean with compass and chart.  They worked
their way, unobstructed, till they arrived at their subterranean port,
directly beneath the doomed ravelin.  Here they constructed a spacious
chamber, supporting it with columns, and making all their architectural
arrangements with as much precision and elegance as if their object had
been purely esthetic.  Coffers full of powder, to an enormous amount,
were then placed in every direction across the floor, the train was laid,
and Parma informed that all was ready.  Alexander, having already arrayed
the troops destined for the assault, then proceeded in person to the
mouth of the shaft, and gave orders to spring the mine.  The explosion
was prodigious; a part of the tower fell with the concussion, and the
moat was choked with heaps of rubbish.  The assailants sprang across the
passage thus afforded, and mastered the ruined portion of the fort.  They
were met in the breach, however, by the unflinching defenders of the
city, and, after a fierce combat of some hours, were obliged to retire;
remaining masters, however, of the moat, and of the ruined portion of the
ravelin.  This was upon the 3rd of April.

Five days afterwards, a general assault was ordered.  A new mine having
been already constructed towards the Tongres ravelin, and a faithful
cannonade having been kept up for a fortnight against the Bois-le-Duc
gate, it was thought advisable to attack at both points at once.  On the
8th of April, accordingly, after uniting in prayer, and listening to a
speech from Alexander Farnese, the great mass of the Spanish army
advanced to the breach.  The moat had been rendered practicable in many
places by the heaps of rubbish with which it had been encumbered, and by
the fagots and earth with which it had been filled by the besiegers.  The
action at the Bois-le-Duc gate was exceedingly warm.  The tried veterans
of Spain, Italy, and Burgundy, were met face to face by the burghers of
Maestricht, together with their wives and children.  All were armed to
the teeth, and fought with what seemed superhuman valor.  The women,
fierce as tigresses defending their young, swarmed to the walls, and
fought in the foremost rank.  They threw pails of boiling water on the
besiegers, they hurled firebrands in their faces; they quoited blazing
pitch-hoops with, unerring dexterity about their necks.  The rustics too,
armed with their ponderous flails, worked as cheerfully at this bloody
harvesting as if thrashing their corn at home.  Heartily did they winnow
the ranks of the royalists who came to butcher them, and thick and fast
fell the invaders, fighting bravely, but baffled by these novel weapons
used by peasant and woman, coming to the aid of the sword; spear, and
musket of trained soldiery.  More than a thousand had fallen at the Bois-
le-Duc gate, and still fresh besiegers mounted the breach, only to be
beaten back, or to add to the mangled heap of the slain.  At the Tongres
gate, meanwhile, the assault had fared no better.  A herald had been
despatched thither in hot haste, to shout at the top of his lungs,
"Santiago!  Santiago!  the Lombards have the gate of Bois-le-Duc!"
while the same stratagem was employed to persuade the invaders on the
other side of the town that their comrades had forced the gate of
Tongres.  The soldiers, animated by this fiction, and advancing with fury
against the famous ravelin; which had been but partly destroyed, were
received with a broadside from the great guns of the unshattered portion,
and by a rattling discharge of musketry from the walls.  They wavered a
little.  At the same instant the new mine--which was to have been sprung
between the ravelin and the gate, but which had been secretly
countermined by the townspeople, exploded with a horrible concussion,
at a moment least expected by the besiegers.  Five hundred royalists were
blown into the air.  Ortiz, a Spanish captain of engineers, who had been
inspecting the excavations, was thrown up bodily from the subterranean
depth.  He fell back again instantly into the same cavern, and was buried
by the returning shower of earth which had spouted from the mine.  Forty-
five years afterwards, in digging for the foundations of a new wall, his
skeleton was found.  Clad in complete armor, the helmet and cuirass still
sound, with his gold chain around his neck, and his mattock and pickaxe
at his feet, the soldier lay unmutilated, seeming almost capable of
resuming his part in the same war which--even after his half century's
sleep--was still ravaging the land.

Five hundred of the Spaniards, perished by the explosion, but none of the
defenders were injured, for they, had been prepared.  Recovering from the
momentary panic, the besiegers again rushed to the attack.  The battle
raged.  Six hundred and seventy officers, commissioned or non-
commissioned, had already fallen, more than half mortally wounded.  Four
thousand royalists, horribly mutilated, lay on the ground.  It was time
that the day's work should be finished, for Maastricht was not to be
carried upon that occasion.  The best and bravest of the surviving
officers besought Parma to put an end to the carnage by recalling the
troops; but the gladiator heart of the commander was heated, not
softened, by the savage spectacle.  "Go back to the breach," he cried,
"and tell the soldiers that Alexander is coming to lead them into the
city in triumph, or to perish with his comrades."  He rushed forward
with the fury which had marked him when he boarded Mustapha's galley at
Lepanto; but all the generals who were near him threw themselves upon his
path, and implored him to desist from such insensate rashness.  Their
expostulations would have probably been in vain, had not his confidential
friend, Serbelloni, interposed with something like paternal authority,
reminding him of the strict commands contained in his Majesty's recent
letters, that the Governor-General, to whom so much was entrusted, should
refrain, on pain of the royal displeasure, from exposing his life like a
common fighter.

Alexander reluctantly gave the signal of recal at last, and accepted the
defeat.  For the future he determined to rely more upon the sapper and
miner, and less upon the superiority of veterans to townsmen and rustics
in open fight.  Sure to carry the city at last, according to line and
rule, determined to pass the whole summer beneath the walls, rather
than abandon his purpose, he calmly proceeded to complete his
circumvallations.  A chain of eleven forts upon the left, and five upon
the right side of the Meuse, the whole connected by a continuous wall,
afforded him perfect security against interruptions, and allowed him to
continue the siege at leisure.  His numerous army was well housed and
amply supplied, and he had built a strong and populous city in order to
destroy another.  Relief was impossible.  But a few thousand men were now
required to defend Farnese's improvised town, while the bulk of his army
could be marched at any moment against an advancing foe.  A force of
seven thousand, painfully collected by the Prince of Orange, moved
towards the place, under command of Hohenlo and John of Nassau, but
struck with wonder at what they saw, the leaders recognized the
hopelessness of attempting relief.  Maestricht was surrounded by
a second Maestricht.

The efforts of Orange were now necessarily directed towards obtaining,
if possible, a truce of a few weeks from the negotiators at Cologne.
Parma was too crafty, however, to allow Terranova to consent, and as the
Duke disclaimed any power over the direct question of peace and war, the
siege proceeded.  The gates of Bois-le-Duc and Tongres having thus far
resisted the force brought against them, the scene was changed to the
gate of Brussels.  This adjoined that of Tongres, was farthest from the
river, and faced westwardly towards the open country.  Here the besieged
had constructed an additional ravelin, which they had christened, in
derision, "Parma," and against which the batteries of Parma were now
brought to bear.  Alexander erected a platform of great extent and
strength directly opposite the new work, and after a severe and constant
cannonade from this elevation, followed by a bloody action, the "Parma"
fort was carried.  One thousand, at least, of the defenders fell, as,
forced gradually from one defence to another, they saw the triple walls
of their ravelin crumble successively before their eyes.  The tower was
absolutely annihilated before they abandoned its ruins, and retired
within their last defences.  Alexander being now master of the fosa and
the defences of the Brussels gate, drew up a large force on both aides of
that portal, along the margin of the moat, and began mining beneath the
inner wall of the city.

Meantime, the garrison had been reduced to four hundred soldiers, nearly
all of whom were wounded: wearied and driven to despair, these soldiers
were willing to treat.  The townspeople, however, answered the
proposition with a shout of fury, and protested that they would destroy
the garrison with their own hands if such an insinuation were repeated.
Sebastian Tappin, too, encouraged them with the hope of speedy relief,
and held out to them the wretched consequences of trusting to the mercy
of their foes.  The garrison took heart again, while that of the burghers
and their wives had, never faltered.  Their main hope now was in a
fortification which they had been constructing inside the Brussels gate
--a demilune of considerable strength.  Behind it was a breastwork of
turf and masonry, to serve as a last bulwark when every other defence
should be forced.  The whole had been surrounded by a foss thirty feet in
depth, and the besiegers, as they mounted upon the breaches which they
had at last effected in the outer curtain, near the Brussels gate, saw
for the first time this new fortification.

The general condition of the defences, and the disposition of the
inhabitants, had been revealed to Alexander by a deserter from the town.
Against this last fortress the last efforts of the foe were now directed.
Alexander ordered a bridge to be thrown across the city moat.  As it was
sixty feet wide and as many deep, and lay directly beneath the guns of
the new demilune, the enterprise was sufficiently hazardous.  Alexander
led the way in person, with a mallet in one hand and a mattockin the
other.  Two men fell dead instantly, one on his right hand and his left,
while he calmly commenced, in his own person, the driving of the first
piles for the bridge.  His soldiers fell fast around him.  Count
Berlaymont was shot dead, many officers of distinction were killed or
wounded, but no soldier dared recoil while their chieftain wrought amid
the bullets like a common pioneer.  Alexander, unharmed, as by a miracle,
never left the spot till the bridge had been constructed, and till ten
great guns had been carried across it, and pointed against the demilune.
The battery was opened, the mines previously excavated were sprung, a
part of the demilune was blown into the air, and the assailants sprang
into the breach.  Again a furious hand-to-hand conflict succeeded; again,
after an obstinate resistance, the townspeople were forced to yield.
Slowly abandoning the shattered fort, they retired behind the breastwork
in its rear--their innermost and last defence.  To this barrier they
clung as to a spar in shipwreck, and here at last they stood at bay,
prepared dearly to sell their lives.

The breastwork, being still strong, was not attempted upon that day.  The
assailants were recalled, and in the mean time a herald was sent by
Parma, highly applauding the courage of the defenders, and begging them
to surrender at discretion.  They answered the messenger with words of
haughty defiance, and, rushing in a mass to the breastwork, began with
spade, pickax, and trowel, to add to its strength.  Here all the able-
bodied men of the town took up their permanent position, and here they
ate, drank, and slept upon their posts, while their food was brought to
them by the women and children.

A little letter, "written in a fine neat handwriting," now mysteriously
arrived in the city, encouraging them in the name of the Archduke and the
Prince of Orange, and assuring them of relief within fourteen days.  A
brief animation was thus produced, attended by a corresponding languor
upon the part of the besiegers, for Alexander had been lying ill with a
fever since the day when the demilune had been carried.  From his sick
bed he rebuked his officers severely that a temporary breastwork, huddled
together by boors and burghers in the midst of a siege, should prove an
insurmountable obstacle to men who had carried everything before them.
The morrow was the festival of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, and it was
meet that so sacred a day should be hallowed by a Christian and Apostolic
victory.  Saint Peter would be there with, his keys to open the gate;
Saint Paul would lead them to battle with his invincible sword.  Orders
were given accordingly, and the assault was assigned for the following
morning.

Meantime, the guards were strengthened and commanded to be more than
usually watchful.  The injunction had a remarkable effect.  At the dead
of night, a soldier of the watch was going his rounds on the outside of
the breastwork, listening, if perchance he might catch, as was not
unusual, a portion of the conversation among the beleaguered burghers
within.  Prying about on every side, he at last discovered a chink in the
wall, the result, doubtless, of the last cannonade, and hitherto
overlooked.  He enlarged the gap with his fingers, and finally made an
opening wide enough to admit his person.  He crept boldly through, and
looked around in the clear starlight.  The sentinels were all slumbering
at their posts.  He advanced stealthily in the dusky streets.  Not a
watchman was going his rounds.  Soldiers, burghers, children, women,
exhausted by incessant fatigue, were all asleep.  Not a footfall was
heard; not a whisper broke the silence; it seemed a city of the dead.
The soldier crept back through the crevice, and hastened to apprise his
superiors of his adventure.

Alexander, forthwith instructed as to the condition of the city, at once
ordered the assault, and the last wall was suddenly stormed before the
morning broke.  The soldiers forced their way through the breach or
sprang over the breastwork, and surprised at last--in its sleep--the city
which had so long and vigorously defended itself.  The burghers, startled
from their slumber, bewildered, unprepared, found themselves engaged in
unequal conflict with alert and savage foes.  The battle, as usual when
Netherland towns were surprised by Philip's soldiers, soon changed to a
massacre.  The townspeople rushed hither and thither, but there was
neither escape, nor means of resisting an enemy who now poured into the
town by thousands upon thousands.  An indiscriminate slaughter succeeded:
Women, old men, and children, had all been combatants; and all,
therefore, had incurred the vengeance of the conquerors.  A cry of agony
arose which was distinctly heard at the distance of a league.  Mothers
took their infants in their arms, and threw themselves by hundreds into
the Meuse--and against women the blood-thirst of the assailants was
especially directed.  Females who had fought daily in the trenches, who
had delved in mines and mustered on the battlements, had unsexed
themselves in the opinion of those whose comrades they had helped to
destroy.  It was nothing that they had laid aside the weakness of women
in order to defend all that was holy and dear to them on earth.  It was
sufficient that many a Spanish, Burgundian, or Italian mercenary had died
by their hands.  Women were pursued from house to house, and hurled from
roof and window.  They were hunted into the river; they were torn limb
from limb in the streets.  Men and children fared no better; but the
heart sickens at the oft-repeated tale.  Horrors, alas, were commonplaces
in the Netherlands.  Cruelty too monstrous for description, too vast to
be believed by a mind not familiar with the outrages practised by the
soldiers of Spain and Italy upon their heretic fellow-creatures, were now
committed afresh in the streets of Maestricht.

On the first day four thousand men and women were slaughtered.  The
massacre lasted two days longer; nor would it be an exaggerated estimate,
if we assume that the amount of victims upon the two last days was equal
to half the number sacrificed on the first.  It was said that not four
hundred citizens were left alive after the termination of the siege.
These soon wandered away, their places being supplied by a rabble rout of
Walloon sutlers and vagabonds.  Maestricht was depopulated as well as
captured.  The booty obtained after the massacre was very large, for the
city had been very thriving, its cloth manufacture extensive and
important.  Sebastian Tappin, the heroic defender of the place, had been
shot through the shoulder at the taking of the Parma ravelin, and had
been afterwards severely injured at the capture of the demilune.  At the
fall of the city he was mortally wounded, and carried a prisoner to the
hostile camp, only to expire.  The governor, Swartsenberg, also lost his
life.

Alexander, on the contrary, was raised from his sick bed with the joyful
tidings of victory, and as soon as he could be moved, made his appearance
in the city.  Seated in a splendid chair of state, borne aloft on the
shoulders of his veterans, with a golden canopy above his head to protect
him from the summer's sun, attended by the officers of his staff, who
were decked by his special command in, their gayest trappings, escorted
by his body-guard, followed by his "plumed troops," to the number of
twenty thousand, surrounded by all the vanities of war, the hero made his
stately entrance into the town.  His way led through deserted streets of
shattered houses.  The pavement ran red with blood.  Headless corpses,
mangled limbs--an obscene mass of wretchedness and corruption, were
spread on every side, and tainted the summer air.  Through the thriving
city which, in the course of four months Alexander had converted into a
slaughter-house and a solitude, the pompous procession took its course to
the church of Saint Servais.  Here humble thanks were offered to the.
God of Love, and to Jesus of Nazareth, for this new victory.  Especially
was gratitude expressed to the Apostles Paul and Peter; upon whose
festival, and by whose sword and key the crowning mercy had been
accomplished,--and by whose special agency eight thousand heretics now
lay unburied in the streets.  These acts of piety performed, the
triumphal procession returned to the camp, where, soon afterwards, the
joyful news of Alexander Farnese's entire convalescence was proclaimed.

The Prince of Orange, as usual, was blamed for the tragical termination
to this long drama.  All that one man could do, he had done to awaken his
countrymen to the importance of the siege.  He had repeatedly brought the
subject solemnly before the assembly, and implored for Maestricht, almost
upon his knees.  Lukewarm and parsimonious, the states had responded to
his eloquent appeals with wrangling addressee and insufficient votes.
With a special subsidy obtained in April and May, he had organized the
slight attempt at relief, which was all which he had been empowered to
make, but which proved entirely unsuccessful.  Now that the massacre to
be averted was accomplished, men were loud in reproof, who had been
silent, and passive while there was yet time to speak and to work.  It
was the Prince, they said, who had delivered so many thousands of his
fellow-countrymen to, butchery.  To save himself, they insinuated he was
now plotting to deliver the land into the power of the treacherous
Frenchman, and he alone, they asserted, was the insuperable obstacle to
an honorable peace with Spain.

A letter, brought by an unknown messenger, was laid before the states'
assembly, in full session, and sent to the clerk's table, to be read
aloud.  After the first few sentences, that functionary faltered in his
recital.  Several members also peremptorily ordered him to stop; for the
letter proved to be a violent and calumnious libel upon Orange, together
with a strong appeal in favor of the peace propositions then under debate
at Cologne.  The Prince alone, of all the assembly, preserving his
tranquillity, ordered the document to be brought to him, and forthwith
read it aloud himself, from beginning to end.  Afterwards, he took
occasion to express his mind concerning the ceaseless calumnies of which
he was the mark.  He especially alluded to the oft-repeated accusation
that he was the only obstacle to peace, and repeated that he was ready at
that moment to leave the land, and to close his lips for ever, if by so
doing he could benefit his country, and restore her to honorable repose.
The outcry, with the protestations of attachment and confidence which at
once broke from the assembly, convinced him, however, that he was deeply
rooted in the hearts of all patriotic Netherlanders, and that it was
beyond the power of slanderers to loosen his hold upon their affection.

Meantime, his efforts had again and again been demanded to restore order
in that abode of anarchy, the city of Ghent.  After his visit during the
previous winter, and the consequent departure of John Casimir to the
palatinate, the pacific arrangements made by the Prince had for a short
time held good.  Early in March, however, that master of misrule, John
van Imbize, had once more excited the populace to sedition.  Again the
property of Catholics, clerical and lay, was plundered; again the persons
of Catholics, of every degree, were maltreated.  The magistrates, with
first senator Imbize at their head, rather encouraged than rebuked the
disorder; but Orange, as soon as he received official intelligence of
the event, hastened to address them in the words of earnest warning and
wisdom.  He allowed that the inhabitants of the province had reason to
be discontented with the presence and the misconduct of the Walloon
soldiery.  He granted that violence and the menaces of a foreign tyranny
made it difficult for honest burghers to gain a livelihood.  At the same
time he expressed astonishment that reasonable men should seek a remedy
for such evils in tumults which would necessarily bring utter destruction
upon the land.  "It was," he observed, "as if a patient should from
impatience, tear the bandages from his wounds, and, like a maniac,
instead of allowing himself to be cured, plunge a dagger into his own
heart."

These exhortations exerted a wholesome effect for a moment, but matters
soon went from bad to worse.  Imbize, fearing the influence of the
Prince, indulged in open-mouthed abuse of a man whose character he was
unable even to comprehend, He accused him of intriguing with France for
his own benefit, of being a Papist in disguise, of desiring to establish
what he called a "religious peace," merely to restore Roman idolatry.
In all these insane ravings, the demagogue was most ably seconded by the
ex-monk.  Incessant and unlicensed were the invectives hurled by Peter
Dathenus from his pulpit upon William the Silent's head.  He denounced
him--as he had often done before--as an atheist in heart; as a man who
changed his religion as easily as his garments; as a man who knew no God
but state expediency, which was the idol of his worship; a mere
politician who would tear his shirt from his back and throw it in the
fire, if he thought it were tainted with religion.

Such witless but vehement denunciation from a preacher who was both
popular and comparatively sincere, could, not but affect the imagination
of the weaker portion of his, healers.  The faction of Imbize became
triumphant.  Ryhove--the ruffian whose hands were stained with the recent
blood of Visch and Hessels--rather did damage than service to the cause
of order.  He opposed himself to the demagogue who was prating daily of
Greece, Rome, and Geneva, while his clerical associate was denouncing
William of Orange, but he opposed himself in vain.  An attempt to secure
the person of Imbize failed, but by the influence of Ryhove, however, a
messenger was despatched to Antwerp in the name of a considerable portion
of the community of Ghent.  The counsel and the presence of the man to
whom all hearts in every part of the Netherlands instinctively turned in
the hour of need, were once more invoked.

The Prince again addressed them in language which none but he could
employ with such effect.  He told them that his life, passed in service
and sacrifice, ought to witness sufficiently for his fidelity.
Nevertheless, he thought it necessary--in view of the calumnies which
were circulated--to repeat once more his sentiment that no treaty of
peace, war, or alliance, ought to be negotiated, save with the consent of
the people.  His course in Holland and Zealand had proved, he said, his
willingness always to consult the wishes of his countrymen.  As for the
matter of religion it was almost incredible that there should be any who
doubted the zeal which he bore the religion for which he had suffered so
much.  "I desire," he continued, fervently, "that men should compare that
which has been done by my accusers during ten years past with that which
I have done.  In that which touches the true advancement of religion, I
will yield to no man.  They who so boldly accuse me have no liberty of
speech, save that which has been acquired for them by the blood of my
kindred, by my labors, and my excessive expenditures.  To me they owe it
that they dare speak at all."  This letter, (which was dated on the 24th
of July, 1579) contained an assurance that the writer was about to visit
Ghent.

On the following day, Imbize executed a coup d'etat.  Having a body of
near two thousand soldiers at his disposal, he suddenly secured the
persons of all the magistrates and other notable individuals not friendly
to his policy, and then, in violation of all law, set up a new board of
eighteen irresponsible functionaries, according to a list prepared by
himself alone.  This was his way of enforcing the democratic liberty
of Greece, Rome, and Geneva, which was so near to his heart.  A
proclamation, in fourteen articles, was forthwith issued, justifying this
arbitrary proceeding.  It was declared that the object of the somewhat
irregular measure "was to prevent the establishment of the religious
peace, which was merely a method of replanting uprooted papistry and the
extirpated tyranny of Spain."  Although the arrangement's had not been
made in strict accordance with formal usage and ceremony, yet they were
defended upon the ground that it had been impossible, by other means, to
maintain their ancient liberties and their religious freedom.  At the
same time a pamphlet, already prepared for the occasion by Dathenus,
was extensively circulated.  In this production the arbitrary revolution
effected by a demagogue was defended with effrontery, while the
character, of Orange, was loaded with customary abuse.  To prevent
the traitor from coming to Ghent, and establishing what he called his
religious peace, these irregular measures, it was urged, had been wisely
taken.

Such were the efforts of John Imbize--such the calumnies of Peter
Dathenus--in order to counteract the patriotic endeavors of the Prince;
but neither the ruffianism of John nor the libels of Peter were destined
upon this occasion to be successful.  William the Silent treated the
slanders of the scolding monk with dignified contempt.  "Having been
informed," said he to the magistrates of Ghent, "that Master Peter
Dathenns has been denouncing me as a man without religion or fidelity,
and full of ambition, with other propositions hardly becoming his cloth;
I do not think it worth while to answer more at this time than that I
willingly refer myself to the judgment of all who know me."

The Prince came to Ghent, great as had been the efforts of Imbize and his
partisans to prevent his coming.  His presence was like magic.  The
demagogue and his whole flock vanished like unclean birds at the first
rays of the sun.  Imbize dared not look the Father of his country in the
face.  Orange rebuked the populace in the strong and indignant language
that public and private virtue, energy, and a high purpose enabled such a
leader of the people to use.  He at once set aside the board of eighteen
--the Grecian-Roman-Genevese establishment of Imbize--and remained in the
city until the regular election, in conformity with the privileges, had
taken place.  Imbize, who had shrunk at his approach, was meantime
discovered by his own companions.  He had stolen forth secretly on the
night before the Prince's arrival, and was found cowering in the cabin of
a vessel, half dead with fear, by an ale-house keeper who had been his
warm partisan.  "No Skulking," cried the honest friend; seizing the
tribune of the people by the shoulder;" no sailing away in the night-
time.  You have got us all into this bog, and must come back, and abide
the issue with your supporters."

In this collapsed state was the windy demagogue, who had filled half
Flanders with his sound and fury, conveyed before the patriot Prince.
He met with grave and bitter rebukes, but felt sufficiently relieved when
allowed to depart unharmed.  Judging of his probable doom by the usual
practice of himself and his fellows in similar cases, he had anticipated
nothing short of the gibbet.  That punishment, however, was to be
inflicted at a later period, by other hands, and not until he had added
treason to his country and a shameless recantation of all his violent
professions in favor of civil and religious liberty to the list of his
crimes.  On the present occasion he was permitted to go free.  In company
with his clerical companion, Peter Dathenus, he fled to the abode of his
excellent friend, John Casimir, who received both with open arms, and
allowed them each a pension.

Order being thus again restored in Ghent by the exertions of the Prince,
when no other human hand could have dispelled the anarchy which seemed to
reign supreme, William the Silent, having accepted the government of
Flanders, which had again and again been urged upon him, now returned to
Antwerp.



CHAPTER III.

     The Cologne conferences--Intentions of the parties--Preliminary
     attempt by government to purchase the Prince of Orange--Offer and
     rejection of various articles among the plenipotentiaries--Departure
     of the imperial commissionere--Ultimatum of the States compared with
     that of the royal government--Barren negotiations terminated--
     Treason of De Bours, Governor of Mechlin--Liberal theories
     concerning the nature of government--Abjuration of Philip imminent--
     Self-denial of Orange--Attitude of Germany--of England--Marriage
     negotiations between Elizabeth and Anjou--Orange favors the election
     of the Duke as sovereign--Address and speeches of the Prince--
     Parsimony and interprovincial jealousy rebuked----Secret
     correspondence of Count Renneberg with the royal government--
     His treason at Groningen.

Since the beginning of May, the Cologne negotiations had been dragging
their slow length along.  Few persons believed that any good was likely
to result from these stately and ponderous conferences; yet men were so
weary of war, so desirous that a termination might be put to the atrophy
under which the country was languishing, that many an eager glance was
turned towards the place where the august assembly was holding its
protracted session.  Certainly, if wisdom were to be found in mitred
heads--if the power to heal angry passions and to settle the conflicting
claims of prerogative and conscience were to be looked for among men of
lofty station, then the Cologne conferences ought to have made the rough
places smooth and the crooked paths straight throughout all Christendom.
There was the Archbishop of Rossano, afterwards Pope Urban VII, as
plenipotentiary from Rome; there was Charles of Aragon, Duke of
Terranova, supported by five councillors, as ambassador from his Catholic
Majesty; there were the Duke of Aerschot, the Abbot of Saint Gertrude,
the Abbot of Marolles, Doctor Bucho Aytta, Caspar Schetz, Lord of
Grobbendonck, that learned Frisian, Aggeus van Albada, with seven other
wise men, as envoys from the states-general: There were their Serene
Highnesses the Elector and Archbishops of Cologne and Treves, with the
Bishop of Wurtzburg.  There was also a numerous embassy from his Imperial
Majesty, with Count Otto de Schwartzenburg at its head.

Here then were holiness, serenity, dignity, law, and learning in
abundance.  Here was a pope 'in posse', with archbishops, princes, dukes,
jurisconsults, and doctors of divinity 'in esse', sufficient to remodel
a world, if worlds were to be remodelled by such instruments.  If
protocols, replications, annotations, apostilles, could heal a bleeding
country, here were the physicians to furnish those drugs in unlimited
profusion.  If reams of paper, scrawled over with barbarous
technicalities, could smother and bury a quarrel which had its origin in
the mutual antagonism of human elements, here were the men to scribble
unflinchingly, till the reams were piled to a pyramid.  If the same idea
presented in many aspects could acquire additional life, here were the
word-mongers who, could clothe one shivering thought in a hundred
thousand garments, till it attained all the majesty which decoration
could impart.  In truth, the envoys came from Spain, Rome, and Vienna,
provided with but two ideas.  Was it not a diplomatic masterpiece, that
from this frugal store they could contrive to eke out seven mortal months
of negotiation?  Two ideas--the supremacy of his Majesty's prerogative,
the exclusive exercise of the Roman Catholic religion--these were the be-
all and the end-all of their commission.  Upon these two strings they
were to harp, at least till the walls of Maestricht had fallen.  The
envoys did their duty well; they were sent to enact a solemn comedy, and
in the most stately manner did they walk through their several parts.
Not that the King was belligerent; on, the contrary, he was heartily
weary of the war.  Prerogative was weary--Romanism was weary--Conscience
was weary--the Spirit of Freedom was weary but the Prince of Orange was
not weary.  Blood and treasure had been pouring forth so profusely during
twelve flaming years, that all but that one tranquil spirit were
beginning to flag.

At the same time, neither party had more disposition to concede than
stomach to fight.  Certainly the royal party had no inclination to yield.
The King had granted easy terms to the Walloons, because upon the one
great point of religion there was, no dispute, and upon the others there
was no intention of keeping faith.  With regard to the present
negotiation, it was desirable to gain a little time.  It was thought
probable that the religious difference, judiciously managed at this
juncture, might be used to effect a permanent severance of the provinces
so lately banded together in a common union.  "To, divide them," wrote
Tassis, in a very confidential letter, "no better method can be found
than to amuse them with this peace negotiation.  Some are ready for a
pacification from their desire of repose, some from their fear of war,
some from the differences which exist among themselves, and which it is
especially important to keep alive."  Above all things, it was desirable
to maintain the religious distraction till Maestricht had been taken.
That siege was the key to the whole situation.  If the separate Walloon
accord could be quietly made in a corner, while Parma was battering that
stronghold on the Meuse, and while decorous negotiation was smoothly
holding its course on the Rhine, much disorganization, it was hoped,
would be handsomely accomplished before the end of the year.

"As for a suspension of arms," wrote Alexander to Terranova, on the 21st
of May, "the longer 'tis deferred the better.  With regard to Maestricht,
everything depends upon it that we possess, or desire to possess.  Truly,
if the Prince of Orange can relieve the city he will do it.  If he does
so, neither will this expedition of ours, nor any other expedition, be
brought to a good end.  As soon as men are aware that our affairs are
looking badly, they will come again to a true union, and all will join
together, in hope to accomplish their boasts."  Therefore, it was natural
that the peace-wrights of Cologne should industriously ply their task.

It is not desirable to disturb much of that learned dust, after its three
centuries' repose.  A rapid sketch of the course of the proceedings, with
an indication of the spirit which animated the contending parties, will
be all that is necessary.  They came and they separated with precisely
opposite views.  "The desires of Terranova and of the estates," says the
royalist, Tassis, "were diametrically contrary, to each other.  The King
wished that the exercise of the Roman Catholic religion should be
exclusively established, and the absolute prerogative preserved in its
integrity."  On the other hand, the provinces desired their charters and
a religious' peace.  In these perpetual lines and curves ran the
asymptotical negotiation from beginning to end--and so it might have run
for two centuries, without hope of coincidence.  Neither party was yet
vanquished.  The freshly united provinces were no readier now than
before to admit that the Holy Office formed part of their national
institutions.  The despotic faction was not prepared to renounce that
establishment.  Foiled, but not disheartened, sat the Inquisition, like a
beldame, upon the border, impotently threatening the land whence she had
been for ever excluded; while industrious as the Parcae, distaff in hand,
sat, in Cologne, the inexorable three--Spain, the Empire, and Rome--
grimly, spinning and severing the web of mortal destinies.

The first step in the proceedings had been a secret one.  If by any means
the Prince of Orange could be detached from his party--if by bribery,
however enormous, he could be induced--to abandon a tottering cause, and
depart for the land of his birth--he was distinctly but indirectly given
to understand that he had but to name his terms.  We have seen the issue
of similar propositions made by Don John of Austria.  Probably there was
no man living who would care to make distinct application of this
dishonorable nature to the Father of his country.  The Aerschots, the
Meluns, the Lalains, and a swarm of other nobles, had their price, and
were easily transferable from one to another, but it was not easy to make
a direct offer to William of Orange.  They knew--as he said shortly
afterwards in his famous Apology--that "neither for property nor for
life, neither for wife nor for children, would he mix in his cup a single
drop of treason."  Nevertheless, he was distinctly given to understand
that "there was nothing he could demand for himself personally that would
not be granted."  All his confiscated property, restoration of his
imprisoned son, liberty of worship for himself, payment of all his debts,
reimbursement of all his past expenses, and anything else which he could
desire, were all placed within his reach.  If he chose to retire into
another land, his son might be placed in possession of all his cities,
estates, and dignities, and himself indemnified in Germany; with a
million of money over and above as a gratuity.  The imperial envoy, Count
Schwartzenburg, pledged his personal honor and reputation that every
promise which might be made to the Prince should be most sacredly
fulfilled.

It was all in vain.  The indirect applications of the imperial
commissioners made to his servants and his nearest relations were
entirely unsuccessful.  The Prince was not to be drawn into a negotiation
in his own name or for his own benefit.  If the estates were satisfied,
he was satisfied.  He wanted no conditions but theirs; "nor would he
directly, or indirectly," he said, "separate himself from the cause on
which hung all his evil or felicity."  He knew that it was the object of
the enemy to deprive the country of its head, and no inducements were
sufficient to make him a party to the plot.  At the same time, he was
unwilling to be an obstacle, in his own person, to the conclusion of an
honorable peace.  He would resign his offices which he held at the
solicitation of the whole country, if thus a negotiation were likely to
be more successful.  "The Prince of Parma and the disunited provinces,"
said he to the states-general, "affect to consider this war as one waged
against me and in my name--as if the question alone concerned the name
and person of the general.  If it be so, I beg you to consider whether it
is not because I have been ever faithful to the land.  Nevertheless, if I
am an obstacle, I am ready to remove it.  If you, therefore, in order to
deprive the enemy of every right to inculpate us, think proper to choose
another head and conductor of your affairs, I promise you to serve and to
be obedient to him with all my heart.  Thus shall we leave the enemy no
standing-place to work dissensions among us."  Such was his language to
friend and foe, and here, at least, was one man in history whom kings
were not rich enough to purchase.

On the 18th of May, the states' envoys at Cologne presented fourteen
articles, demanding freedom of religion and the ancient political
charters.  Religion, they said, was to be referred; not to man, but to
God.  To him the King was subject as well as the people.  Both King and
people--"and by people was meant every individual in the land"--were
bound to serve God according to their conscience.

The imperial envoys found such language extremely reprehensible, and
promptly refused, as umpires, to entertain the fourteen articles.  Others
drawn up by Terranova and colleagues, embodying the claims of the royal
and Roman party, were then solemnly presented, and as promptly rejected.
Then the imperial umpires came forward with two bundles of
proposisitions--approved beforehand by the Spanish plenipotentiaries.
In the political bundle; obedience due to the King was insisted upon,
"as in the time of the Emperor Charles."  The religious category declared
that "the Roman religion--all others excluded--should thenceforth be
exercised in all the provinces."  Both these categories were considered
more objectionable by the states' envoys than the terms of Terranova, and
astonishment was expressed that "mention should again be made of the
edicts--as if blood enough had not been shed already in the cause of
religion."

The Netherland envoys likewise gave the imperial commissioners distinctly
to understand that--in case peace were not soon made--"the states would
forthwith declare the King fallen from his sovereignty;" would for ever
dispense the people from their oaths of allegiance to him, and would
probably accept the Duke of Anjou in his place.  The states-general, to
which body the imperial propositions had been sent, also rejected the
articles in a logical and historical argument of unmerciful length.

An appeal secretly made by the imperial and Spanish commissioners, from
the states' envoys to the states themselves, and even to the people of
the various provinces, had excited the anger of the plenipotentiaries.
They complained loudly of this violation of all diplomatic etiquette, and
the answer of the states-general, fully confirming the views of their
ambassadors, did not diminish their wrath.

On the 13th of November, 1579, the states' envoys were invited into the
council chamber of the imperial commissioners, to hear the last solemn
commonplaces of those departing, functionaries.  Seven months long they
had been waiting in vain, they said, for the states' envoys to accede to
moderate demands.  Patience was now exhausted.  Moreover, their mediatory
views had been the subject of bitter lampooning throughout the country,
while the authorities of many cities had publicly declared that all the
inhabitants would rather, die the death than accept such terms.  The
peace-makers, accordingly, with endless protestations as to, their own
purity, wisdom, and benevolence, left the whole "in the hands of God and
the parties concerned."

The reply to this elaborate farewell was curt and somewhat crusty.  "Had
they known," said the states' envoys, "that their transparencies and
worthinesses had no better intention, and the Duke of Terranova no ampler
commission, the whole matter might have been despatched, not in six
months, but in six days."

Thus ended the conferences, and the imperial commissioners departed.
Nevertheless, Schwartzenburg remained yet a little time at Cologne, while
five of the states' envoys also protracted their stay, in order to make
their private peace with the King.  It is hardly necessary to observe
that the chief of these penitents was the Duke of Aerschot.  The
ultimatum of the states was deposited by the departing envoys with
Schwartzenburg, and a comparison of its terms with those offered by the
imperial mediators, as the best which could be obtained from Spain, shows
the hopelessness of the pretended negotiation.  Departure of the foreign
troops, restitution of all confiscated property, unequivocal recognition
of the Ghent treaty and the perpetual edict, appointment to office of
none but natives, oaths of allegiance to the King and the states-general,
exercise of the Reformed religion and of the Confession of Augsburg in
all places where it was then publicly practised: such were the main
demands of the patriot party.

In the secret instructions furnished by the states to their envoys, they
were told to urge upon his Majesty the absolute necessity, if he wished
to retain the provinces, of winking at the exercise of the Reformed and
the Augsburg creeds.  "The new religion had taken too deep root," it was
urged, "ever to be torn forth, save with the destruction of the whole
country."

Thus, after seven dreary months of negotiation, after protocols and
memoranda in ten thousand folia, the august diplomatists had travelled
round to the points from which they had severally started.  On the one
side, unlimited prerogative and exclusive Catholicism; on the other,
constitutional liberty, with freedom of conscience for Catholic and
Protestant alike: these were the claims which each party announced at the
commencement, and to which they held with equal firmness at the close of
the conferences.

The congress had been expensive.  Though not much had been accomplished
for the political or religious advancement of mankind, there had been
much excellent eating and drinking at Cologne during the seven months.
Those drouthy deliberations had needed moistening.  The Bishop of
Wurtzburg had consumed "eighty hogsheads of Rhenish wine and twenty great
casks of beer."  The expense of the states' envoys were twenty-four
thousand guldens.  The Archbishop of Cologne had expended forty thousand
thalers.  The deliberations were, on the whole, excessively detrimental
to the cause of the provinces, "and a great personage" wrote to the
states-general, that the King had been influenced by no motive save to
cause dissension.  This was an exaggeration, for his Majesty would have
been well pleased to receive the whole of the country on the same terms
which had been accepted by the Walloons.  Meantime, those southern
provinces had made their separate treaty, and the Netherlands were
permanently dissevered.  Maestricht had fallen.  Disunion and dismay had
taken possession of the country.

During the course of the year other severe misfortunes had happened to
the states.  Treachery, even among the men who had done good service to
the cause of freedom, was daily showing her hateful visage.  Not only
the great chieftains who had led the Malcontent Walloon party, with the
fickle Aerschot and the wavering Havre besides, had made their separate
reconciliation with Parma, but the epidemic treason had mastered such
bold partisans as the Seigneur de Bours, the man whose services in
rescuing the citadel of Antwerp had been so courageous and valuable.  He
was governor of Mechlin; Count Renneberg was governor of Friesland.  Both
were trusted implicitly by Orange and by the estates; both were on the
eve of repaying the confidence reposed in them by the most venal treason.

It was already known that Parma had tampered with De Bours; but Renneberg
was still unsuspected.  "The Prince," wrote Count John, "is deserted by
all the noblemen; save the stadholder of Friesland and myself, and has no
man else in whom he can repose confidence."  The brothers were doomed to
be rudely awakened from the repose with regard to Renneberg, but
previously the treason of a less important functionary was to cause a
considerable but less lasting injury to the national party.

In Mechlin was a Carmelite friar, of audacious character and great
eloquence; a man who, "with his sweet, poisonous tongue, could ever
persuade the people to do his bidding."  This dangerous monk, Peter
Lupus, or Peter Wolf, by name, had formed the design of restoring
Mechlin to the Prince of Parma, and of obtaining the bishopric of Namur
as the reward of his services.  To this end he had obtained a complete
mastery over the intellect of the bold but unprincipled De Bours.
A correspondence was immediately opened between Parma and the governor,
and troops were secretly admitted into the city.  The Prince of Orange,
in the name of the Archduke and the estates, in vain endeavoured to recal
the infatuated governor to his duty.  In vain he conjured him, by letter
after letter, to be true to his own bright fame so nobly earned.  An old
friend of De Bours, and like himself a Catholic, was also employed to
remonstrate with him.  This gentleman, De Fromont by name, wrote him many
letters; but De Bours expressed his surprise that Fromont, whom he had
always considered a good Catholic and a virtuous gentleman, should wish
to force him into a connection with the Prince of Orange and his heretic
supporters.  He protested that his mind was quite made up, and that he
had been guaranteed by Parma not only the post which he now held, but
even still farther advancement.

De Fromont reminded him, in reply, of the frequent revolutions of
fortune's wheel, and warned him that the advancement of which he boasted
would probably be an entire degradation.  He bitterly recalled to the
remembrance of the new zealot for Romanism his former earnest efforts to
establish Calvinism.  He reproached him, too, with having melted up the
silver images of the Mechlin churches, including even the renowned shrine
of Saint Rombout, which the Prince of Orange had always respected.
"I don't say how much you took of that plunder for your own share,"
continued the indignant De Fromont, "for the very children cry it in your
ears as you walk the streets.  'Tis known that if God himself had been
changed into gold you would have put him in your pocket."

This was plain language, but as just as it was plain.  The famous shrine
of Saint Rombout--valued at seventy thousand guldens, of silver gilt, and
enriched with precious stones--had been held sacred alike by the
fanatical iconoclasts and the greedy Spaniards who had successively held
the city.  It had now been melted up, and appropriated by Peter Lupin;
the Carmelite, and De Bours, the Catholic convert, whose mouths were full
of devotion to the ancient Church and of horror for heresy.

The efforts of Orange and of the states were unavailing.  De Bours
surrendered the city, and fled to Parma, who received him with
cordiality, gave him five thousand florins--the price promised for his
treason, besides a regiment of infantry--but expressed surprise that he
should have reached the camp alive.  His subsequent career was short, and
he met his death two years afterwards, in the trenches before Tournay.
The archiepiscopal city was thus transferred to the royal party, but the
gallant Van der Tympel, governor of Brussels, retook it by surprise
within six months of its acquisition by Parma, and once more restored it
to the jurisdiction of the states.  Peter Lupus, the Carmelite, armed to
the teeth, and fighting fiercely at the head of the royalists, was slain
in the street, and thus forfeited his chance for the mitre of Namur.

During the weary progress of the Cologne negotiations, the Prince
had not been idle, and should this august and slow-moving congress be
unsuccessful in restoring peace, the provinces were pledged to an act of
abjuration.  They would then be entirely without a head.  The idea of a
nominal Republic was broached by none.  The contest had not been one of
theory, but of facts; for the war had not been for revolution, but for
conservation, so far as political rights were concerned.  In religion,
the provinces had advanced from one step to another, till they now
claimed the largest liberty--freedom of conscience--for all.  Religion,
they held, was God's affair, not man's, in which neither people nor king
had power over each other, but in which both were subject to God alone.
In politics it was different.  Hereditary sovereignty was acknowledged as
a fact, but at the same time, the spirit of freedom was already learning
its appropriate language.  It already claimed boldly the natural right of
mankind to be governed according to the laws of reason and of divine
justice.  If a prince were a shepherd, it was at least lawful to deprive
him of his crook when he butchered the flock which he had been appointed
to protect.

"What reason is there," said the states-general, "why the provinces
should suffer themselves to be continually oppressed by their sovereign,
with robbings, burnings, stranglings, and murderings?  Why, being thus
oppressed, should they still give their sovereign--exactly as if he were
well conducting himself--the honor and title of lord of the land?"  On
the other hand, if hereditary rule were an established fact, so also were
ancient charters.  To maintain, not to overthrow, the political compact,
was the purpose of the states.  "Je maintiendrai" was the motto of
Orange's escutcheon.  That a compact existed between prince and people,
and that the sovereign held office only on condition of doing his duty,
were startling truths which men were beginning, not to whisper to each
other in secret, but to proclaim in the market-place.  "'Tis well known
to all," said the famous Declaration of Independence, two years
afterwards, "that if a prince is appointed by God over the land, 'tis to
protect them from harm, even as a shepherd to the guardianship of his
flock.  The subjects are not appointed by God for the behoof of the
prince, but the prince for his subjects, without whom he is no prince.
Should he violate the laws, he is to be forsaken by his meanest subject,
and to be recognized no longer as prince."

William of Orange always recognized these truths, but his scheme of
government contemplated a permanent chief, and as it was becoming obvious
that the Spanish sovereign would soon be abjured, it was necessary to fix
upon a substitute.  "As to governing these provinces in the form of a
republic," said he, speaking for the states-general, "those who know the
condition, privileges, and ordinances of the country, can easily
understand that 'tis hardly possible to dispense with a head or
superintendent."  At the same time, he plainly intimated that this "head
or superintendent" was to be, not a monarch--a one-ruler--but merely the
hereditary chief magistrate of a free commonwealth.

Where was this hereditary chief magistrate to be found?  His own claims
he absolutely withdrew.  The office was within his grasp, and he might
easily have constituted himself sovereign of all the Netherlands.
Perhaps it would have been better at that time had he advanced his claims
and accepted the sovereignty which Philip had forfeited.  As he did not
believe in the possibility of a republic, he might honestly have taken
into his own hands the sceptre which he considered indispensable.  His
self-abnegation was, however, absolute.  Not only did he decline
sovereignty, but he repeatedly avowed his readiness to, lay down all the
offices which he held, if a more useful substitute could be found.  "Let
no man think," said he, in a remarkable speech to the states-general,"
that my good-will is in any degree changed or diminished.  I agree to
obey--as the least of the lords or gentlemen of the land could do--
whatever person it may, please you to select.  You have but to command
my services wheresoever they are most wanted; to guard a province or a
single city, or in any capacity in which I may be found most useful.
I promise to do my duty, with all my strength and skill, as God and my
conscience are witnesses that I have done it hitherto."

The negotiations pointed to a speedy abjuration of Philip; the Republic
was contemplated by none; the Prince of Orange absolutely refused to
stretch forth his own hand; who then was to receive the sceptre which was
so soon to be bestowed?  A German Prince--had been tried--in a somewhat
abnormal position--but had certainly manifested small capacity for aiding
the provinces.  Nothing could well be more insignificant than the figure
of Matthias; and, moreover, his imperial brother was anything but
favorably disposed.  It was necessary to manage Rudolph.  To treat the
Archduke with indignity, now that he had been partly established in the
Netherlands, would be to incur the Emperor's enmity.  His friendship,
however, could hardly be secured by any advancement bestowed upon his
brother; for Rudolph's services against prerogative and the Pope were in
no case to be expected.  Nor was there much hope from the Protestant
princes of Germany.  The day had passed for generous sympathy with those
engaged in the great struggle which Martin Luther had commenced.  The
present generation of German Protestants were more inclined to put down
the Calvinistic schism at home than to save it from oppression abroad.
Men were more disposed to wrangle over the thrice-gnawed bones of
ecclesiastical casuistry, than to assist their brethren in the field.
"I know not," said Gaultherus, "whether the calamity of the Netherlands,
or the more than bestial stupidity of the Germans, be most deplorable.
To the insane contests on theological abstractions we owe it that many
are ready to breathe blood and slaughter against their own brethren.  The
hatred of the Lutherans has reached that point that they can rather
tolerate Papists than ourselves."

In England, there was much sympathy for the provinces and there--although
the form of government was still arbitrary--the instincts for civil and
religious freedom, which have ever characterized the Anglo-Saxon race,
were not to be repressed.  Upon many a battle-field for liberty in the
Netherlands, "men whose limbs were made in England" were found contending
for the right.  The blood and treasure of Englishmen flowed freely in the
cause of their relatives by religion and race, but these were the efforts
of individuals.  Hitherto but little assistance had been rendered by the
English Queen, who had, on the contrary, almost distracted the provinces
by her fast-and-loose policy, both towards them and towards Anjou.  The
political rivalry between that Prince and herself in the Netherlands had,
however, now given place to the memorable love-passage from which
important results were expected, and it was thought certain that
Elizabeth would view with satisfaction any dignity conferred upon her
lover.

Orange had a right to form this opinion.  At the same time, it is well
known that the chief councillors of Elizabeth--while they were all in
favor of assisting the provinces--looked with anything but satisfaction
upon the Anjou marriage.  "The Duke," wrote Davidson to Walsingham in
July, 1579, "seeks, forsooth, under a pretext of marriage with her
Highness, the rather to espouse the Low Countries--the chief ground and
object of his pretended love, howsoever it be disguised."  The envoy
believed both Elizabeth and the provinces in danger of taking unto
themselves a very bad master.  "Is there any means," he added, "so apt to
sound the very bottom of our estate, and to hinder and breake the neck of
all such good purpose as the necessity of the tyme shall set abroch?"

The provinces of Holland and Zealand, notwithstanding the love they bore
to William of Orange, could never be persuaded by his arguments into
favoring Anjou.  Indeed, it was rather on account of the love they bore
the Prince--whom they were determined to have for their sovereign--that
they refused to listen to any persuasion in favor of his rival, although
coming from his own lips.  The states-general, in a report to the states
of Holland, drawn up under the superintendence of the Prince, brought
forward all the usual arguments for accepting the French duke, in case
the abjuration should take place.  They urged the contract with Anjou (of
August 13th, 1578), the great expenses he had already incurred in their
behalf; the danger of offending him; the possibility that in such case
he would ally himself with Spain; the prospect that, in consequence of
such a result, there would be three enemies in the field against them--
the Walloons, the Spaniards, and the French, all whose forces would
eventually be turned upon Holland and Zealand alone.  It was represented
that the selection of Anjou would, on the other hand, secure the
friendship of France--an alliance which would inspire both the Emperor
and the Spanish monarch with fear; for they could not contemplate without
jealousy a possible incorporation of the provinces with that kingdom.
Moreover, the geographical situation of France made its friendship
inexpressibly desirable.  The states of Holland and Zealand were,
therefore, earnestly invited to send deputies to an assembly of the
states-general, in order to conclude measures touching the declaration
of independence to be made against the King, and concerning the election
of the Duke of Anjou.

The official communications by speech or writing of Orange to the
different corporations and assemblies, were at this period of enormous
extent.  He was moved to frequent anger by the parsimony, the inter-
provincial jealousy, the dull perception of the different estates, and he
often expressed his wrath in unequivocal language.  He dealt roundly with
all public bodies.  His eloquence was distinguished by a bold,
uncompromising, truth-telling spirit, whether the words might prove
palatable or bitter to his audience.  His language rebuked his hearers
more frequently than it caressed them, for he felt it impossible, at all
times, to consult both the humors and the high interests of the people,
and he had no hesitation, as guardian of popular liberty, in denouncing
the popular vices by which it was endangered.

By both great parties, he complained, his shortcomings were all noted,
the good which he had accomplished passed over in silence.

     [Letter to the States-general, August, 1579, apud Bor, xiv.  97,
     sqq.  This was the opinion frequently expressed by Languet: "Cherish
     the friendship of the Prince, I beseech you," he writes to Sir
     Philip Sydney, "for there is no man like him in all Christendom.
     Nevertheless, his is the lot of all men of prudence--to be censured
     by all parties.  The people complain that he despises them; the
     nobility declare that it is their order which he hates; and this is
     as sensible as if you were to tell me that you were the son of a
     clown."]

He solemnly protested that he desired, out of his whole heart, the
advancement of that religion which he publicly professed, and with God's
blessing, hoped to profess to the end of his life, but nevertheless, he
reminded the states that he had sworn, upon taking office as Lieutenant-
General, to keep "all the subjects of the land equally under his
protection," and that he had kept his oath.  He rebuked the parsimony
which placed the accepted chief of the provinces in a sordid and
contemptible position.  "The Archduke has been compelled," said he, in
August, to the states-general, "to break up housekeeping, for want of
means.  How shameful and disreputable for the country, if he should be
compelled, for very poverty, to leave the land!"  He offered to lay down
all the power with which he had himself been clothed, but insisted, if he
were to continue in office, upon being provided with, larger means of
being useful.  "'Twas impossible," he said, "for him to serve longer on
the same footing as heretofore; finding himself without power or
authority, without means, without troops, without money, without
obedience."  He reminded the states-general that the enemy--under pretext
of peace negotiations--were ever circulating calumnious statements to the
effect that he was personally the only obstacle to peace.  The real
object of these hopeless conferences was to sow dissension through the
land, to set burgher against burgher, house against house.  As in Italy,
Guelphs and Ghibellines--as in Florence, the Neri and Bianchi--as in
Holland, the Hooks and Cabbeljaws had, by their unfortunate quarrels,
armed fellow countrymen and families against each other--so also, nothing
was so powerful as religious difference to set friend against friend,
father against son, husband against wife.

He warned the States against the peace propositions of the enemy.  Spain
had no intention to concede, but was resolved to extirpate.  For himself;
he had certainly everything to lose by continued war.  His magnificent
estates were withheld, and--added he with simplicity--there is no man who
does not desire to enjoy his own.  The liberation of his son, too, from
his foreign captivity, was, after the glory of God and the welfare of the
fatherland, the dearest object of his heart.  Moreover, he was himself
approaching the decline of life.  Twelve years he had spent in perpetual
anxiety and labor for the cause.  As he approached old age, he had
sufficient reason to desire repose.  Nevertheless, considering the great
multitude of people who were leaning upon him, he should account himself
disgraced if, for the sake of his own private advantage, he were to
recommend a peace which was not perfectly secure.  As regarded his own
personal interests, he could easily place himself beyond danger--yet it
would be otherwise with the people.  The existence of the religion which,
through the mercy of God he professed, would be sacrificed, and countless
multitudes of innocent men would, by his act, be thrown bodily into the
hands of the blood-thirsty inquisitors who, in times past, had murdered
so many persons, and so utterly desolated the land.  In regard to the
ceaseless insinuations against his character which men uttered "over
their tables and in the streets," he observed philosophically, that
"mankind were naturally inclined to calumny, particularly against those
who exercised government over them.  His life was the best answer to
those slanders.  Being overwhelmed with debt, he should doubtless do
better in a personal point of view to accept the excellent and profitable
offers which were daily made to him by the enemy."  He might be justified
in such a course, when it was remembered how many had deserted him and
forsworn their religion.  Nevertheless, he had ever refused, and should
ever refuse to listen to offers by which only his own personal interests
were secured.  As to the defence of the country, he had thus far done all
in his power, with the small resources placed at his command.  He was
urged by the "nearer-united states" to retain the poet of Lieutenant-
General.  He was ready to consent.  He was, however, not willing to hold
office a moment, unless he had power to compel cities to accept
garrisons, to enforce the collection of needful supplies throughout the
provinces, and in general to do everything which he judged necessary for
the best interests of the country.

Three councils were now established--one to be in attendance upon the
Archduke and the Prince of Orange, the two others to reside respectively
in Flanders and in Utrecht.  They were to be appointed by Matthias and
the Prince, upon a double nomination from the estates of the united
provinces.  Their decisions were to be made according to a majority of
votes,--and there was to be no secret cabinet behind and above their
deliberations.  It was long, however, before these councils were put into
working order.  The fatal jealousy of the provincial authorities, the,
small ambition of local magistrates, interposed daily obstacles to the
vigorous march of the generality.  Never was jealousy more mischievous,
never circumspection more misapplied.  It was not a land nor a crisis in
which there was peril of centralization: Local municipal government was
in truth the only force left.  There was no possibility of its being
merged in a central authority which did not exist.  The country was
without a centre.  There was small chance of apoplexy where there was no
head.  The danger lay in the mutual repulsiveness of these atoms of
sovereignty--in the centrifugal tendencies which were fast resolving a
nebulous commonwealth into chaos.  Disunion and dissension would soon
bring about a more fatal centralization--that of absorption in a distant
despotism.

At the end of November, 1579, Orange made another remarkable speech in
the states-general at Antwerp.  He handled the usual topics with his
customary vigor, and with that grace and warmth of delivery which always
made his eloquence so persuasive and impressive.  He spoke of the
countless calumnies against himself, the chaffering niggardliness of the
provinces, the slender result produced by his repeated warnings.  He told
them bluntly the great cause of all their troubles.  It was the absence
of a broad patriotism; it was the narrow power grudged rather than given
to the deputies who sat in the general assembly.  They were mere envoys,
tied by instructions.  They were powerless to act, except after tedious
reference to the will of their masters, the provincial boards.  The
deputies of the Union came thither, he said, as advocates of their
provinces or their cities, not as councillors of a commonwealth--and
sought to further those narrow interests, even at the risk of destruction
to their sister states.  The contributions, he complained, were assessed
unequally, and expended selfishly.  Upon this occasion, as upon all
occasions, he again challenged inquiry into the purity of his government,
demanded chastisement, if any act of mal-administration on his part could
be found, and repeated his anxious desire either to be relieved from his
functions, or to be furnished with the means of discharging them with
efficiency.

On the 12th of December, 1579, he again made a powerful speech in the
states-general.  Upon the 9th of January 1580, following, he made an
elaborate address upon the state of the country, urging the necessity of
raising instantly a considerable army of good and experienced soldiers.
He fixed the indispensable number of such a force at twelve thousand
foot, four thousand horse, and at least twelve hundred pioneers.  "Weigh
well the matters," said he, in conclusion; "which I have thus urged, and
which are of the most extreme necessity.  Men in their utmost need are
daily coming to me for refuge, as if I held power over all things in my
hand."  At the same time he complained that by reason of the dilatoriness
of the states, he was prevented from alleviating misery when he knew the
remedy to be within reach.  "I beg you, however, my masters," he
continued, "to believe that this address of mine is no simple discourse.
'Tis a faithful presentment of matters which, if not reformed, will cause
the speedy and absolute ruin of the land.  Whatever betide, however, I
pray you to hold yourselves assured, that with God's help, I am
determined to live with you or to die with you."

Early in the year 1580, the Prince was doomed to a bitter disappointment,
and the provinces to a severe loss, in the treason of Count Renneberg,
governor of Friesland.  This young noble was of the great Lalain family.
He was a younger brother of: Anthony, Count of Hoogstraaten--the
unwavering friend of Orange.  He had been brought up in the family of his
cousin, the Count de Lalain, governor of Hainault, and had inherited the
title of Renneberg from an uncle, who was a dignitary of the church.
For more than a year there had been suspicions of his fidelity.  He was
supposed to have been tampered with by the Duke of Terranova, on the
first arrival of that functionary in the Netherlands.  Nevertheless, the
Prince of Orange was unwilling to listen to the whispers against him.
Being himself the mark of calumny, and having a tender remembrance of the
elder brother, he persisted in reposing confidence in a man who was in
reality unworthy of his friendship.  George Lalain, therefore, remained
stadholder of Friesland and Drenthe, and in possession of the capital
city, Groningen.

The rumors concerning him proved correct.  In November, 1579, he entered
into a formal treaty with Terranova, by which he was to receive--as the
price of "the virtuous resolution which he contemplated"--the sum of ten
thousand crowns in hand, a further sum of ten thousand crowns within
three months, and a yearly pension of ten thousand florins.  Moreover,
his barony of Ville was to be erected into a marquisate, and he was to
receive the order of the Golden Fleece at the first vacancy.  He was
likewise to be continued in the same offices under the King which he now
held from the estates.  The bill of sale, by which he agreed with a
certain Quislain le Bailly to transfer himself to Spain, fixed these
terms with the technical scrupulousness of any other mercantile
transaction.  Renneberg sold himself as one would sell a yoke of oxen,
and his motives were no whit nobler than the cynical contract would
indicate.  "See you not," said he in a private letter to a friend, "that
this whole work is brewed by the Nassaus for the sake of their own
greatness, and that they are everywhere provided with the very best
crumbs.  They are to be stadholders of the principal provinces; we are
to content ourselves with Overyssel and Drente.  Therefore I have thought
it best to make my peace with the King, from whom more benefits are to be
got."

Jealousy and selfishness; then, were the motives of his "virtuous
resolution."  He had another, perhaps a nobler incentive.  He was in love
with the Countess Meghen, widow of Lancelot Berlaymont, and it was
privately stipulated that the influence of his Majesty's government
should be employed to bring about his marriage with the lady.  The
treaty, however, which Renneberg had made with Quislain le Bailly was not
immediately carried out.  Early in February, 1580, his sister and evil
genius, Cornelia Lalain, wife of Baron Monceau, made him a visit at
Groningen.  She implored him not to give over his soul to perdition by
oppressing the Holy Church.  She also appealed to his family pride, which
should keep him, she said, from the contamination of companionship with
"base-born weavers and furriers."  She was of opinion that to contaminate
his high-born fingers with base bribes were a lower degradation.  The
pension, the crowns in hand, the marquisate, the collar of the Golden
Fleece, were all held before his eyes again.  He was persuaded, moreover,
that the fair hand of the wealthy widow would be the crowning prize of
his treason, but in this he was destined to disappointment.  The Countess
was reserved for a more brilliant and a more bitter fate.  She was to
espouse a man of higher rank, but more worthless character, also a
traitor to the cause of freedom, to which she was herself devoted, and
who was even accused of attempting her life in her old age, in order to
supply her place with a younger rival.

The artful eloquence of Cornelia de Lalain did its work, and Renneberg
entered into correspondence with Parma.  It is singular with how much
indulgence his conduct and character were regarded both before and
subsequently to his treason.  There was something attractive about the
man.  In an age when many German and Netherland nobles were given to
drunkenness and debauchery, and were distinguished rather for coarseness
of manner and brutality of intellect than for refinement or learning,
Count Renneberg, on the contrary, was an elegant and accomplished
gentleman--the Sydney of his country in all but loyalty of character.
He was a classical scholar, a votary of music and poetry, a graceful
troubadour, and a valiant knight.  He was "sweet and lovely of
conversation," generous and bountiful by nature.  With so many good
gifts, it was a thousand pities that the gift of truth had been denied
him.  Never did treason look more amiable, but it was treason of the
blackest die.  He was treacherous, in the hour of her utmost need, to the
country which had trusted him.  He was treacherous to the great man who
had leaned upon his truth, when all others had abandoned him.  He was
treacherous from the most sordid of motives jealousy of his friend and
love of place and pelf; but his subsequent remorse and his early death
have cast a veil over the blackness of his crime.

While Cornelia de Lalain was in Groningen, Orange was in Holland.
Intercepted letters left no doubt of the plot, and it was agreed that the
Prince, then on his way to Amsterdam, should summon the Count to an
interview.  Renneberg's trouble at the proximity of Orange could not be
suppressed.  He felt that he could never look his friend in the face
again.  His plans were not ripe; it was desirable to dissemble for a
season longer; but how could he meet that tranquil eye which "looked
quite through the deeds of men?"  It was obvious to Renneberg that his
deed was to be done forthwith, if he would escape discomfiture.  The
Prince would soon be in Groningen, and his presence would dispel the
plots which had been secretly constructed.

On the evening of March the 3rd, 1580, the Count entertained a large
number of the most distinguished families of the place at a ball and
banquet.  At the supper-table, Hildebrand, chief burgomaster of the city,
bluntly interrogated his host concerning the calumnious reports which
were in circulation, expressing the hope that there was no truth in these
inventions of his enemies.  Thus summoned, Renneberg, seizing the hands
of Hildebrand in both his own, exclaimed, "Oh; my father! you whom I
esteem as my father, can you suspect me of such guilt?  I pray you,
trust me, and fear me not!"

With this he restored the burgomaster and all the other guests to
confidence.  The feast and dance proceeded, while Renneberg was quietly
arranging his plot.  During the night all the leading patriots were taken
out of their beds, and carried to prison, notice being at the same time
given to the secret adherents of Renneberg.  Before dawn, a numerous mob
of boatmen and vagrants, well armed, appeared upon the public square.
They bore torches and standards, and amazed the quiet little city with
their shouts.  The place was formally taken into possession, cannon were
planted in front of the Town House to command the principal streets, and
barricades erected at various important points.  Just at daylight,
Renneberg himself, in complete armor, rode into the square, and it was
observed that he looked ghastly as a corpse.  He was followed by thirty
troopers, armed like himself, from head to foot.  "Stand by me now," he
cried to the assembled throng; "fail me not at this moment, for now I am
for the first time your stadholder."

While he was speaking, a few citizens of the highest class forced their
way through the throng and addressed the mob in tones of authority.  They
were evidently magisterial persons endeavoring to quell the riot.  As
they advanced, one of Renneberg's men-at-arms discharged his carabine at
the foremost gentleman, who was no other than burgomaster Hildebrand.  He
fell dead at the feet of the stadholder--of the man who had clasped his
hands a few hours before, called him father, and implored him to
entertain no suspicions of his honor.  The death of this distinguished
gentleman created a panic, during which Renneberg addressed his
adherents, and stimulated them to atone by their future zeal in the
King's service for their former delinquency.  A few days afterwards the
city was formally reunited to the royal government; but the Count's
measures had been precipitated to such an extent, that he was unable to
carry the province with him, as he had hoped.  On the contrary, although
he had secured the city, he had secured nothing else.  He was immediately
beleaguered by the states' force in the province under the command of
Barthold Entes, Hohenlo, and Philip Louis Nassau, and it was necessary to
send for immediate assistance from Parma.

The Prince of Orange, being thus bitterly disappointed.  by the treachery
of his friend, and foiled in his attempt to avert the immediate
consequences, continued his interrupted journey to Amsterdam.  Here he
was received with unbounded enthusiasm.



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

All the majesty which decoration could impart
Amuse them with this peace negotiation
Conflicting claims of prerogative and conscience
It is not desirable to disturb much of that learned dust
Logical and historical argument of unmerciful length
Mankind were naturally inclined to calumny
Men were loud in reproof, who had been silent
More easily, as he had no intention of keeping the promise
Not to fall asleep in the shade of a peace negotiation
Nothing was so powerful as religious difference
On the first day four thousand men and women were slaughtered
Power grudged rather than given to the deputies
The disunited provinces
There is no man who does not desire to enjoy his own
To hear the last solemn commonplaces
Word-mongers who, could clothe one shivering thought





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