In it Granvella was represented as the prime cause of all the disorders
in the Netherlands.  So long as the highest power should be entrusted to
him it would, they declared, be impossible for them to serve the nation
and king effectually; on the other hand, all would revert to its former
tranquillity, all opposition be discontinued, and the government regain
the affections of the people as soon as his majesty should be pleased to
remove this man from the helm of the state.  In that case, they added,
neither exertion nor zeal would be wanting on their part to maintain in
these countries the dignity of the king and the purity of the faith,
which was no less sacred to them than to the cardinal, Granvella.

Secretly as this letter was prepared still the duchess was informed of
it in sufficient time to anticipate it by another despatch, and to
counteract the effect which it might have had on the king's mind.  Some
months passed ere an answer came from Madrid.  It was mild, but vague.
"The king," such was its import, "was not used to condemn his ministers
unheard on the mere accusations of their enemies.  Common justice alone
required that the accusers of the cardinal should descend from general
imputations to special proofs, and if they were not inclined to do this
in writing, one of them might come to Spain, where he should be treated
with all respect."  Besides this letter, which was equally directed to
all three, Count Egmont further received an autograph letter from the
king, wherein his majesty expressed a wish to learn from him in
particular what in the common letter had been only generally touched
upon.  The regent, also, was specially instructed how she was to answer
the three collectively, and the count singly.  The king knew his man.
He felt it was easy to manage Count Egmont alone; for this reason he
sought to entice him to Madrid, where he would be removed from the
commanding guidance of a higher intellect.  In distinguishing him above
his two friends by so flattering a mark of his confidence, he made a
difference in the relation in which they severally stood to the throne;
how could they, then, unite with equal zeal for the same object when the
inducements were no longer the same?  This time, indeed, the vigilance
of Orange frustrated the scheme; but the sequel of the history will show
that the seed which was now scattered was not altogether lost.


(1563.) The king's answer gave no satisfaction to the three
confederates; they boldly determined to venture a second attempt.  "It
had," they wrote, "surprised them not a little, that his majesty had
thought their representations so unworthy of attention.  It was not as
accusers of the minister, but as counsellors of his majesty, whose duty
it was to inform their master of the condition of his states, that they
had despatched that letter to him.  They sought not the ruin of the
minister, indeed it would gratify them to see him contented and happy in
any other part of the world than here in the Netherlands.  They were,
however, fully persuaded of this, that his continued presence there was
absolutely incompatible with the general tranquillity.  The present
dangerous condition of their native country would allow none of them to
leave it, much less to take so long a journey as to Spain on Granvella's
account.  If, therefore, his majesty did not please to comply with their
written request, they hoped to be excused for the future from attendance
in the senate, where they were only exposed to the mortification of
meeting the minister, and where they could be of no service either to
the king or the state, but only appeared contemptible in their own
sight.  In conclusion, they begged his majesty would not take ill the
plain simplicity of their languge, since persons of their character set
more value on acting well than on speaking finely."  To the same purport
was a separate letter from Count Egmont, in which he returned thanks for
the royal autograph.  This second address was followed by an answer to
the effect that "their representations should be taken into
consideration, meanwhile they were requested to attend the council of
state as heretofore."

It was evident that the monarch was far from intending to grant their
request; they, therefore, from this tune forth absented themselves from
the state council, and even left Brussels.  Not having succeeded in
removing the minister by lawful means they sought to accomplish this end
by a new mode from which more might be expected.  On every occasion they
and their adherents openly showed the contempt which they felt for him,
and contrived to throw ridicule on everything he undertook.  By this
contemptuous treatment they hoped to harass the haughty spirit of the
priest, and to obtain through his mortified self-love what they had
failed in by other means.  In this, indeed, they did not succeed; but
the expedient on which they had fallen led in the end to the ruin of the
minister.

The popular voice was raised more loudly against him so soon as it was
perceived that be had forfeited the good opinion of the nobles, and that
men whose sentiments they had been used blindly to echo preceded them in
detestation of him.  The contemptuous manner in which the nobility now
treated him devoted him in a measure to the general scorn and emboldened
calumny which never spares even what is holiest and purest, to lay its
sacrilegious hand on his honor.  The new constitution of the church,
which was the great grievance of the nation, had been the basis of his
fortunes.  This was a crime that could not be forgiven.  Every fresh
execution--and with such spectacles the activity of the inquisitors was
only too liberal--kept alive and furnished dreadful exercise to the
bitter animosity against him, and at last custom and usage inscribed his
name on every act of oppression.  A stranger in a land into which he had
been introduced against its will; alone among millions of enemies;
uncertain of all his tools; supported only by the weak arm of distant
royalty; maintaining his intercourse with the nation, which he had to
gain, only by means of faithless instruments, all of whom made it their
highest object to falsify his actions and misrepresent his motives;
lastly, with a woman for his coadjutor who could not share with him the
burden of the general execration--thus he stood exposed to the
wantonness, the ingratitude, the faction, the envy, and all the evil
passions of a licentious, insubordinate people.  It is worthy of remark
that the hatred which he had incurred far outran the demerits which
could be laid to his charge; that it was difficult, nay impossible, for
his accusers to substantiate by proof the general condemnation which
fell upon him from all sides.  Before and after him fanaticism dragged
its victims to the altar; before and after him civil blood flowed, the
rights of men were made a mock of, and men themselves rendered wretched.
Under Charles V. tyranny ought to have pained more acutely through its
novelty; under the Duke of Alva it was carried to far more unnatural
lengths, insomuch that Granvella's administration, in comparison with
that of his successor, was even merciful; and yet we do not find that
his contemporaries ever evinced the same degree of personal exasperation
and spite against the latter in which they indulged against his
predecessor.  To cloak the meanness of his birth in the splendor of high
dignities, and by an exalted station to place him if possible above the
malice of his enemies, the regent had made interest at Rome to procure
for him the cardinal's hat; but this very honor, which connected him
more closely with the papal court, made him so much the more an alien in
the provinces.  The purple was a new crime in Brussels, and an
obnoxious, detested garb, which in a measure publicly held forth to view
the principles on which his future conduct would be governed.  Neither
his honorable rank, which alone often consecrates the most infamous
caitiff, nor his talents, which commanded esteem, nor even his terrible
omnipotence, which daily revealed itself in so many bloody
manifestations, could screen him from derision.  Terror and scorn, the
fearful and the ludicruous, were in his instance unnaturally blended.

     [The nobility, at the suggestion of Count Egmont, caused their
     servants to wear a common livery, on which was embroidered a fool's
     cap.  All Brussels interpreted it for the cardinal's hat, and every
     appearance of such a servant renewed their laughter; this badge of
     a fool's cap, which was offensive to the court, was subsequently
     changed into a bundle of arrows--an accidental jest which took a
     very serious end, and probably was the origin of the arms of the
     republic.  Vit. Vigl. T. II. 35 Thuan.  489.  The respect for the
     cardinal sunk at last so low that a caricature was publicly placed
     in his own hand, in which he was represented seated on a heap of
     eggs, out of which bishops were crawling.  Over him hovered a devil
     with the inscription--"This is my son, hear ye him!"]

Odious rumors branded his honor; murderous attempts on the lives of
Egmont and Orange were ascribed to him; the most incredible things found
credence; the most monstrous, if they referred to him or were said to
emanate from him, surprised no longer.  The nation had already become
uncivilized to that degree where the most contradictory sentiments
prevail side by side, and the finer boundary lines of decorum and moral
feeling are erased.  This belief in extraordinary crimes is almost
invariably their immediate precursor.

But with this gloomy prospect the strange destiny of this man opens at
the same time a grander view, which impresses the unprejudiced observer
with pleasure and admiration.  Here he beholds a nation dazzled by no
splendor, and restrained by no fear, firmly, inexorably, and
unpremeditatedly unanimous in punishing the crime which had been
committed against its dignity by the violent introduction of a stranger
into the heart of its political constitution.  We see him ever aloof and
ever isolated, like a foreign hostile body hovering over a surface which
repels its contact.  The strong hand itself of the monarch, who was.
his friend and protector, could not support him against the antipathies
of the nation which had once resolved to withhold from him all its
sympathy.  The voice of national hatred was all powerful, and was ready
to forego even private interest, its certain gains; his alms even were
shunned, like the fruit of an accursed tree.  Like pestilential vapor,
the infamy of universal reprobation hung over him.  In his case
gratitude believed itself absolved from its duties; his adherents
shunned him; his friends were dumb in his behalf.  So terribly did the
people avenge the insulted majesty of their nobles and their nation on
the greatest monarch of the earth.

History has repeated this memorable example only once, in Cardinal
Mazarin; but the instance differed according to the spirit of the two
periods and nations.  The highest power could not protect either from
derision; but if France found vent for its indignation in laughing at
its pantaloon, the Netherlands hurried from scorn to rebellion.  The
former, after a long bondage under the vigorous administration of
Richelieu, saw itself placed suddenly in unwonted liberty; the latter
had passed from ancient hereditary freedom into strange and unusual
servitude; it was as natural that the Fronde should end again in
subjection as that the Belgian troubles should issue in republican
independence.  The revolt of the Parisians was the offspring of poverty;
unbridled, but not bold, arrogant, but without energy, base and
plebeian, like the source from which it sprang.  The murmur of the
Netherlands was the proud and powerful voice of wealth.  Licentiousness
and hunger inspired the former; revenge, life, property, and religion
were the animating motives of the latter.  Rapacity was Mazarin's spring
of action; Granvella's lust of power.  The former was humane and mild;
the latter harsh, imperious, cruel.  The French minister sought in the
favor of his queen an asylum from the hatred of the magnates and the
fury of the people; the Netherlandish minister provoked the hatred of a
whole nation in order to please one man.  Against Mazarin were only a
few factions and the mob they could arm; an entire and united nation
against Granvella.  Under the former parliament attempted to obtain,
by stealth, a power which did not belong to them; under the latter it
struggled for a lawful authority which he insidiously had endeavored to
wrest from them.  The former had to contend with the princes of the
blood and the peers of the realm, as the latter had with the native
nobility and the states, but instead of endeavoring, like the former, to
overthrow the common enemy, in the hope of stepping themselves into his
place, the latter wished to destroy the place itself, and to divide a
power which no single man ought to possess entire.

While these feelings were spreading among the people the influence of
the minister at the court of the regent began to totter.  The repeated
complaints against the extent of his power must at last have made her
sensible how little faith was placed in her own; perhaps, too, she began
to fear that the universal abhorrence which attached to him would soon
include herself also, or that his longer stay would inevitably provoke
the menaced revolt.  Long intercourse with him, his instruction and
example, had qualified her to govern without him.  His dignity began to
be more oppressive to her as he became less necessary, and his faults,
to which her friendship had hitherto lent a veil, became visible as it
was withdrawn.  She was now as much disposed to search out and enumerate
these faults as she formerly had been to conceal them.  In this
unfavorable state of her feelings towards the cardinal the urgent and
accumulated representations of the nobles began at last to find access
to her mind, and the more easily, as they contrived to mix up her own
fears with their own.  "It was matter of great astonishment," said Count
Egmont to her, "that to gratify a man who was not even a Fleming, and of
whom, therefore, it must be well known that his happiness could not be
dependent on the prosperity of this country, the king could be content
to see all his Netherlandish subjects suffer, and this to please a
foreigner, who if his birth made him a subject of the Emperor, the
purple had made a creature of the court of Rome."  "To the king alone,"
added the count, "was Granvella indebted for his being still among the
living; for the future, however, he would leave that care of him to the
regent, and he hereby gave her warning."  As the majority of the nobles,
disgusted with the contemptuous treatment which they met with in the
council of state, gradually withdrew from it, the arbitrary proceedings
of the minister lost the last semblance of republican deliberation which
had hitherto softened the odious aspect, and the empty desolation of
the council chamber made his domineering rule appear in all its
obnoxiousness.  The regent now felt that she had a master over her,
and from that moment the banishment of the minister was decided upon.

With this object she despatched her private secretary, Thomas
Armenteros, to Spain, to acquaint the king with the circumstances in
which the cardinal was placed, to apprise him of the intimations she had
received of the intentions of the nobles, and in this manner to cause
the resolution for his recall to appear to emanate from the king
himself.  What she did not like to trust to a letter Armenteros was
ordered ingeniously to interweave in the oral communication which the
king would probably require from him.  Armenteros fulfilled his
commission with all the ability of a consummate courtier; but an
audience of four hours could not overthrow the work of many years, nor
destroy in Philip's mind his opinion of his minister, which was there
unalterably established.  Long did the monarch hold counsel with his
policy and his interest, until Granvella himself came to the aid of his
wavering resolution and voluntarily solicited a dismissal, which, he
feared, could not much longer be deferred.  What the detestation of all
the Netherlands could not effect the contemptuous treatment of the
nobility accomplished; he was at last weary of a power which was no
longer feared, and exposed him less to envy than to infamy.

Perhaps as some have believed he trembled for his life, which was
certainly in more than imaginary danger; perhaps he wished to receive
his dismissal from the king under the shape of a boon rather than of a
sentence, and after the example of the Romans meet with dignity a fate
which he could no longer avoid.  Philip too, it would appear, preferred
generously to accord to the nation a request rather than to yield at a
later period to a demand, and hoped at least to merit their thanks by
voluntarily conceding now what necessity would ere long extort.  His
fears prevailed over his obstinacy, and prudence overcame pride.

Granvella doubted not for a moment what the decision of the king would
be.  A few days after the return of Armenteros he saw humility and
flattery disappear from the few faces which had till then servilely
smiled upon him; the last small crowd of base flatterers and eyeservants
vanished from around his person; his threshold was forsaken; he
perceived that the fructifying warmth of royal favor had left him.

Detraction, which had assailed him during his whole administration, did
not spare him even in the moment of resignation.  People did not scruple
to assert that a short time before he laid down his office he had
expressed a wish to be reconciled to the Prince of Orange and Count
Egmont, and even offered, if their forgiveness could be hoped for on no
other terms, to ask pardon of them on his knees.  It was base and
contemptible to sully the memory of a great and extraordinary man with
such a charge, but it is still more so to hand it down uncontradicted to
posterity.  Granvella submitted to the royal command with a dignified
composure.  Already had he written, a few months previously, to the Duke
of Alva in Spain, to prepare him a place of refuge in Madrid, in case of
his having to quit the Netherlands.  The latter long bethought himself
whether it was advisable to bring thither so dangerous a rival for the
favor of his king, or to deny so important a friend such a valuable
means of indulging his old hatred of the Flemish nobles.  Revenge
prevailed over fear, and he strenuously supported Granvella's request
with the monarch.  But his intercession was fruitless.  Armenteros had
persuaded the king that the minister's residence in Madrid would only
revive, with increased violence, all the complaints of the Belgian
nation, to which his ministry had been sacrificed; for then, he said, he
would be suspected of poisoning the very source of that power, whose
outlets only he had hitherto been charged with corrupting.  He therefore
sent him to Burgundy, his native place, for which a decent pretext
fortunately presented itself.  The cardinal gave to his departure from
Brussels the appearance of an unimportant journey, from which he would
return in a few days.  At the same time, however, all the state
counsellors, who, under his administration, had voluntarily excluded
themselves from its sittings, received a command from the court to
resume their seats in the senate at Brussels.  Although the latter
circumstance made his return not very credible, nevertheless the
remotest possibility of it sobered the triumph which celebrated his
departure.  The regent herself appears to have been undecided what to
think about the report; for, in a fresh letter to the king, she repeated
all the representations and arguments which ought to restrain him from
restoring this minister.  Granvella himself, in his correspondence with
Barlaimont and Viglius, endeavored to keep alive this rumor, and at
least to alarm with fears, however unsubstantial, the enemies whom he
could no longer punish by his presence.  Indeed, the dread of the
influence of this extraordinary man was so exceedingly great that, to
appease it, he was at last driven even from his home and his country.

After the death of Pius IV., Granvella went to Rome, to be present at
the election of a new pope, and at the same time to discharge some
commissions of his master, whose confidence in him remained unshaken.
Soon after, Philip made him viceroy of Naples, where he succumbed to the
seductions of the climate, and the spirit which no vicissitudes could
bend voluptuousness overcame.  He was sixty-two years old when the king
allowed him to revisit Spain, where he continued with unlimited powers
to administer the affairs of Italy.  A gloomy old age, and the self-
satisfied pride of a sexagenarian administration made him a harsh and
rigid judge of the opinions of others, a slave of custom, and a tedious
panegyrist of past times.  But the policy of the closing century had
ceased to be the policy of the opening one.  A new and younger ministry
were soon weary of so imperious a superintendent, and Philip himself
began to shun the aged counsellor, who found nothing worthy of praise
but the deeds of his father.  Nevertheless, when the conquest of
Portugal called Philip to Lisbon, he confided to the cardinal the care
of his Spanish territories.  Finally, on an Italian tour, in the town of
Mantua, in the seventy-third year of his life, Granvella terminated his
long existence in the full enjoyment of his glory, and after possessing
for forty years the uninterrupted confidence of his king.


(1564.) Immediately upon the departure of the minister, all the happy
results which were promised from his withdrawal were fulfilled.  The
disaffected nobles resumed their seats in the council, and again devoted
themselves to the affairs of the state with redoubled zeal, in order to
give no room for regret for him whom they had driven away, and to prove,
by the fortunate administration of the state, that his services were not
indispensable.  The crowd round the duchess was great.  All vied with
one another in readiness, in submission, and zeal in her service; the
hours of night were not allowed to stop the transaction of pressing
business of state; the greatest unanimity existed between the three
councils, the best understanding between the court and the states.  From
the obliging temper of the Flemish nobility everything was to be had, as
soon as their pride and self-will was flattered by confidence and
obliging treatment.  The regent took advantage of the first joy of the
nation to beguile them into a vote of certain taxes, which, under the
preceding administration, she could not have hoped to extort.  In this,
the great credit of the nobility etfectually supported her, and she soon
learned from this nation the secret, which had been so often verified in
the German diet--that much must be demanded in order to get a little.

With pleasure did the regent see herself emancipated from her long
thraldom; the emulous industry of the nobility lightened for her the
burden of business, and their insinuating humility allowed her to feel
the full sweetness of power.


(1564).  Granvella had been overthrown, but his party still remained.
His policy lived in his creatures, whom he left behind him in the privy
council and in the chamber of finance.  Hatred still smouldered amongst
the factious long after the leader was banished, and the names of the
Orange and Royalist parties, of the Patriots and Cardinalists still
continued to divide the senate and to keep up the flames of discord.
Viglius Van Zuichem Van Aytta, president of the privy council, state
counsellor and keeper of the seal, was now looked upon as the most
important person in the senate, and the most powerful prop of the crown
and the tiara.  This highly meritorious old man, whom we have to thank
for some valuable contributions towards the history of the rebellion of
the Low Countries, and whose confidential correspondence with his
friends has generally been the guide of our narrative, was one of the
greatest lawyers of his time, as well as a theologian and priest, and
had already, under the Emperor, filled the most important offices.
Familiar intercourse with the learned men who adorned the age, and at
the head of whom stood Erasmus of Rotterdam, combined with frequent
travels in the imperial service, had extended the sphere of his
information and experience, and in many points raised him in his
principles and opinions above his contemporaries.  The fame of his
erudition filled the whole century in which he lived, and has handed his
name down to posterity.  When, in the year 1548, the connection of the
Netherlands with the German empire was to be settled at the Diet of
Augsburg, Charles V. sent hither this statesman to manage the interests
of the provinces; and his ability principally succeeded in turning the
negotiations to the advantage of the Netherlands.  After the death of
the Emperor, Viglius was one of the many eminent ministers bequeathed to
Philip by his father, and one of the few in whom be honored his memory.
The fortune of the minister, Granvella, with whom he was united by the
ties of an early acquaintance, raised him likewise to greatness; but he
did not share the fall of his patron, because he had not participated in
his lust of power; nor, consequently, the hatred which attached to him.
A residence of twenty years in the provinces, where the most important
affairs were entrusted to him, approved loyalty to his king, and zealous
attachment to the Roman Catholic tenets, made him one of the most
distinguished instruments of royalty in the Netherlands.

Viglius was a man of learning, but no thinker; an experienced statesman,
but without an enlightened mind; of an intellect not sufficiently
powerful to break, like his friend Erasmus, the fetters of error, yet
not sufficiently bad to employ it, like his predecessor, Granvella, in
the service of his own passions.  Too weak and timid to follow boldly
the guidance of his reason, he preferred trusting to the more convenient
path of conscience; a thing was just so soon as it became his duty; he
belonged to those honest men who are indispensable to bad ones; fraud
reckoned on his honesty.  Half a century later he would have received
his immortality from the freedom which he now helped to subvert.
In the privy council at Brussels he was the servant of tyranny; in the
parliament in London, or in the senate at Amsterdam, he would have died,
perhaps, like Thomas More or Olden Barneveldt.

In the Count Barlaimont, the president of the council of finance,
the opposition had a no less formidable antagonist than in Viglius.
Historians have transmitted but little information regarding the
services and the opinions of this man.  In the first part of his career
the dazzling greatness of Cardinal Granvella seems to have cast a shade
over him; after the latter had disappeared from the stage the
superiority of the opposite party kept him down, but still the little
that we do find respecting him throws a favorable light over his
character.  More than once the Prince of Orange exerted himself to
detach him from the interests of the cardinal, and to join him to his
own party--sufficient proof that he placed a value on the prize.  All
his efforts failed, which shows that he had to do with no vacillating
character.  More than once we see him alone, of all the members of the
council, stepping forward to oppose the dominant faction, and protecting
against universal opposition the interests of the crown, which were in
momentary peril of being sacrificed.  When the Prince of Orange had
assembled the knights of the Golden Fleece in his own palace, with a
view to induce them to come to a preparatory resolution for the
abolition of the Inquisition, Barlaimont was the first to denounce the
illegality of this proceeding and to inform the regent of it.  Some time
after the prince asked him if the regent knew of that assembly, and
Barlaitnont hesitated not a moment to avow to him the truth.  All the
steps which have been ascribed to him bespeak a man whom neither
influence nor fear could tempt, who, with a firm courage and indomitable
constancy, remained faithful to the party which he had once chosen, but
who, it must at the same time be confessed, entertained too proud and
too despotic notions to have selected any other.

Amongst the adherents of the royal party at Brussels, we have, further,
the names of the Duke of Arschot, the Counts of Mansfeld, Megen, and
Aremberg--all three native Netherlanders; and therefore, as it appeared,
bound equally with the whole Netherlandish nobility to oppose the
hierarchy and the royal power in their native country.  So much the more
surprised must we feel at their contrary behavior, and which is indeed
the more remarkable, since we find them on terms of friendship with the
most eminent members of the faction, and anything but insensible to the
common grievances of their country.

But they had not self-confidence or heroism enough to venture on an
unequal contest with so superior an antagonist.  With a cowardly
prudence they made their just discontent submit to the stern law of
necessity, and imposed a hard sacrifice on their pride because their
pampered vanity was capable of nothing better.  Too thrifty and too
discreet to wish to extort from the justice or the fear of their
sovereign the certain good which they already possessed from his
voluntary generosity, or to resign a real happiness in order to preserve
the shadow of another, they rather employed the propitious moment to
drive a traffic with their constancy, which, from the general defection
of the nobility, had now risen in value.  Caring little for true glory,
they allowed their ambition to decide which party they should take; for
the ambition of base minds prefers to bow beneath the hard yoke of
compulsion rather than submit to the gentle sway of a superior
intellect.  Small would have been the value of the favor conferred had
they bestowed themselves on the Prince of Orange; but their connection
with royalty made them so much the more formidable as opponents.  There
their names would have been lost among his numerous adherents and in the
splendor of their rival.  On the almost deserted side of the court their
insignificant merit acquired lustre.

The families of Nassau and Croi (to the latter belonged the Duke of
Arschot) had for several reigns been competitors for influence and
honor, and their rivalry had kept up an old feud between their families,
which religious differences finally made irreconcilable.  The house of
Croi from time immemorial had been renowned for its devout and strict
observance of papistic rites and ceremonies; the Counts of Nassau had
gone over to the new sect--sufficient reasons why Philip of Croi, Duke
of Arschot, should prefer a party which placed him the most decidedly in
opposition to the Prince of Orange.  The court did not fail to take
advantage of this private feud, and to oppose so important an enemy to
the increasing influence of the house of Nassau in the republic.  The
Counts Mansfeld and Megen had till lately been the confidential friends
of Count Egmont.  In common with him they had raised their voice against
the minister, had joined him in resisting the Inquisition and the
edicts, and had hitherto held with him as far as honor and duty would
permit.  But at these limits the three friends now separated.  Egmont's
unsuspecting virtue incessantly hurried him forwards on the road to
ruin; Mansfeld and Megen, admonished of the danger, began in good time
to think of a safe retreat.  There still exist letters which were
interchanged between the Counts Egmont and Mansfeld, and which, although
written at a later period, give us a true picture of their former
friendship.  "If," replied Count Mansfeld to his friend, who in an
amicable manner had reproved him for his defection to the king, "if
formerly I was of opinion that the general good made the abolition of
the Inquisition, the mitigation of the edicts, and the removal of the
Cardinal Granvella necessary, the king has now acquiesced in this wish
and removed the cause of complaint.  We have already done too much
against the majesty of the sovereign and the authority of the church; it
is high time for us to turn, if we would wish to meet the king, when he
comes, with open brow and without anxiety.  As regards my own person, I
do not dread his vengeance; with confident courage I would at his first
summons present myself in Spain, and boldly abide my sentence from his
justice and goodness.  I do not say this as if I doubted whether Count
Egrnont can assert the same, but he will act prudently in looking more
to his own safety, and in removing suspicion from his actions.  If I
hear," he says, in conclusion, "that he has allowed my admonitions to
have their due weight, our friendship continues; if not, I feel myself
in that case strong enough to sacrifice all human ties to my duty and to
honor."

The enlarged power of the nobility exposed the republic to almost a
greater evil than that which it had just escaped by the removal of the
minister.  Impoverished by long habits of luxury, which at the same time
had relaxed their morals, and to which they were now too much addicted
to be able to renounce them, they yielded to the perilous opportunity of
indulging their ruling inclination, and of again repairing the expiring
lustre of their fortunes.  Extravagance brought on the thirst for gain,
and this introduced bribery.  Secular and ecclesiastical offices were
publicly put up to sale; posts of honor, privileges, and patents were
sold to the highest bidder; even justice was made a trade.  Whom the
privy council had condemned was acquitted by the council of state, and
what the former refused to grant was to be purchased from the latter.
The council of state, indeed, subsequently retorted the charge on the
two other councils, but it forgot that it was its own example that
corrupted them.  The shrewdness of rapacity opened new sources of gain.
Life, liberty, and religion were insured for a certain sum, like landed
estates; for gold, murderers and malefactors were free, and the nation
was plundered by a lottery.  The servants and creatures of the state,
counsellors and governors of provinces, were, without regard to rank or
merit, pushed into the most important posts; whoever had a petition to
present at court had to make his way through the governors of provinces
and their inferior servants.  No artifice of seduction was spared to
implicate in these excesses the private secretary of the duchess, Thomas
Armenteros, a man up to this time of irreproachable character.  By
pretended professions of attachment and friendship a successful attempt
was made to gain his confidence, and by luxurious entertainments to
undermine his principles; the seductive example infected his morals, and
new wants overcame his hitherto incorruptible integrity.  He was now
blind to abuses in which he was an accomplice, and drew a veil over the
crimes of others in order at the same time to cloak his own.  With his
knowledge the royal exchequer was robbed, and the objects of the
government were defeated through a corrupt administration of its
revenues.  Meanwhile the regent wandered on in a fond dream of power and
activity, which the flattery of the nobles artfully knew how to foster.
The ambition of the factious played with the foibles of a woman, and
with empty signs and an humble show of submission purchased real power
from her.  She soon belonged entirely to the faction, and had
imperceptibly changed her principles.  Diametrically opposing all her
former proceedings, even in direct violation of her duty, she now
brought before the council of state, which was swayed by the faction,
not only questions which belonged to the other councils, but also the
suggestions which Viglius had made to her in private, in the same way as
formerly, under Granvella's administration, she had improperly neglected
to consult it at all.  Nearly all business and all influence were now
diverted to the governors of provinces.  All petitions were directed to
them, by them all lucrative appointments were bestowed.  Their
usurpations were indeed carried so far that law proceedings were
withdrawn from the municipal authorities of the towns and brought before
their own tribunals.  The respectability of the provincial courts
decreased as theirs extended, and with the respectability of the
municipal functionaries the administration of justice and civil order
declined.  The smaller courts soon followed the example of the
government of the country.  The spirit which ruled the council of state
at Brussels soon diffused itself through the provinces.  Bribery,
indulgences, robbery, venality of justice, were universal in the courts
of judicature of the country; morals degenerated, and the new sects
availed themselves of this all-pervading licentiousness to propagate
their opinions.  The religious indifference or toleration of the nobles,
who, either themselves inclined to the side of the innovators, or, at
least, detested the Inquisition as an instrument of despotism, had
mitigated the rigor of the religious edicts, and through the letters of
indemnity, which were bestowed on many Protestants, the holy office was
deprived of its best victims.  In no way could the nobility more
agreeably announce to the nation its present share in the government of
the country than by sacrificing to it the hated tribunal of the
Inquisition--and to this inclination impelled them still more than the
dictates of policy.  The nation passed in a moment from the most
oppressive constraint of intolerance into a state of freedom, to which,
however, it had already become too unaccustomed to support it with
moderation.  The inquisitors, deprived of the support of the municipal
authorities, found themselves an object of derision rather than of fear.
In Bruges the town council caused even some of their own servants to be
placed in confinement, and kept on bread and water, for attempting to
lay hands upon a supposed heretic.  About this very time the mob in
Antwerp, having made a futile, attempt to rescue a person charged with
heresy from the holy office, there was placarded in the public market-
place an inscription, written in blood, to the effect that a number of
persons had bound themselves by oath to avenge the death of that
innocent person.

From the corruption which pervaded the whole council of state, the privy
council, and the chamber of finance, in which Viglius and Barlaimont
were presidents, had as yet, for the most part, kept themselves pure.

As the faction could not succeed in insinuating their adherents into
those two councils the only course open to them was, if possible, to
render both inefficient, and to transfer their business to the council
of state.  To carry out this design the Prince of Orange sought to
secure the co-operation of the other state counsellors.  "They were
called, indeed, senators," he frequently declared to his adherents, "but
others possessed the power.  If gold was wanted to pay the troops, or
when the question was how the spreading heresy was to be repressed, or
the people kept in order, then they were consulted; although in fact
they were the guardians neither of the treasury nor of the laws, but
only the organs through which the other two councils operated on the
state.  And yet alone they were equal to the whole administration of the
country, which had been uselessly portioned out amongst three separate
chambers.  If they would among themselves only agree to reunite to the
council of state these two important branches of government, which had
been dissevered from it, one soul might animate the whole body."  A plan
was preliminarily and secretly agreed on, in accordance with which
twelve new Knights of the Fleece were to be added to the council of
state, the administration of justice restored to the tribunal at
Malines, to which it originally belonged, the granting of letters of
grace, patents, and so forth, assigned to the president, Viglius, while
the management of the finances should be committed to it.  All the
difficulties, indeed, which the distrust of the court and its jealousy
of the increasing power of the nobility would oppose to this innovation
were foreseen and provided against.  In order to constrain the regent's
assent, some of the principal officers of the army were put forward as a
cloak, who were to annoy the court at Brussels with boisterous demands
for their arrears of pay, and in case of refusal to threaten a
rebellion.  It was also contrived to have the regent assailed with
numerous petitions and memorials complaining of the delays of justice,
and exaggerating the danger which was to be apprehended from the daily
growth of heresy.  Nothing was omitted to darken the picture of the
disorganized state of society, of the abuse of justice, and of the
deficiency in the finances, which was made so alarming that she awoke
with terror from the delusion of prosperity in which she had hitherto
cradled herself.  She called the three councils together to consult them
on the means by which these disorders were to be remedied.  The majority
was in favor of sending an extraordinary ambassador to Spain, who by a
circumstantial and vivid delineation should make the king acquainted
with the true position of affairs, and if possible prevail on him to
adopt efficient measures of reform.  This proposition was opposed by
Viglius, who, however, had not the slighest suspicion of the secret
designs of the faction.  "The evil complained of," he said, "is
undoubtedly great, and one which can no longer be neglected with
impunity, but it is not irremediable by ourselves.  The administration
of justice is certainly crippled, but the blame of this lies with the
nobles themselves; by their contemptuous treatment they have thrown
discredit on the municipal authorities, who, moreover, are very
inadequately supported by the governors of provinces.  If heresy is on
the increase it is because the secular arm has deserted the spiritual
judges, and because the lower orders, following the example of the
nobles, have thrown off all respect for those in authority.  The
provinces are undoubtedly oppressed by a heavy debt, but it has not been
accumulated, as alleged, by any malversation of the revenues, but by the
expenses of former wars and the king's present exigences; still wise and
prudent measures of finance might in a short time remove the burden.  If
the council of state would not be so profuse of its indulgences, its
charters of immunity, and its exemptions; if it would commence the
reformation of morals with itself, show greater respect to the laws, and
do what lies in its power to restore to the municipal functionaries
their former consideration; in short, if the councils and the governors
of provinces would only fulfil their own duties the present grounds of
complaint would soon be removed.  Why, then, send an ambassador to
Spain, when as yet nothing has occurred to justify so extraordinary an
expedient?  If, however, the council thinks otherwise, he would not
oppose the general voice; only he must make it a condition of his
concurrence that the principal instruction of the envoy should be to
entreat the king to make them a speedy visit."

There was but one voice as to the choice of an envoy.  Of all the
Flemish nobles Count Egmont was the only one whose appointment would
give equal satisfaction to both parties.  His hatred of the Inquisition,
his patriotic and liberal sentiments, and the unblemished integrity of
his character, gave to the republic sufficient surety for his conduct,
while for the reasons already mentioned he could not fail to be welcome
to the king.  Moreover, Egmont's personal figure and demeanor were
calculated on his first appearance to make that favorable impression
which goes co far towards winning the hearts of princes; and his
engaging carriage would come to the aid of his eloquence, and enforce
his petition with those persuasive arts which are indispensable to the
success of even the most trifling suits to royalty.  Egmont himself,
too, wished for the embassy, as it would afford him the opportunity of
adjusting, personally, matters with his sovereign.

About this time the Council, or rather synod, of Trent closed its
sittings, and published its decrees to the whole of Christendom.  But
these canons, far from accomplishing the object for which the synod was
originally convened, and satisfying the expectation of religious
parties, had rather widened the breach between them, and made the schism
irremediable and eternal.

The labors of the synod instead of purifying the Romish Church from its
corruptions had only reduced the latter to greater definiteness and
precision, and invested them with the sanction of authority.  All the
subtilties of its teaching, all the arts and usurpations of the Roman
See, which had hitherto rested more on arbitrary usage, were now passed
into laws and raised into a system.  The uses and abuses which during
the barbarous times of ignorance and superstition had crept into
Christianity were now declared essential parts of its worship, and
anathemas were denounced upon all who should dare to contradict the
dogmas or neglect the observances of the Romish communion.  All were
anathematized who should either presume to doubt the miraculous power of
relics, and refuse to honor the bones of martyrs, or should be so bold
as to doubt the availing efficacy of the intercession of saints.  The
power of granting indulgences, the first source of the defection from
the See of Rome, was now propounded in an irrefragable article of faith;
and the principle of monasticism sanctioned by an express decree of the
synod, which allowed males to take the vows at sixteen and females at
twelve.  And while all the opinions of the Protestants were, without
exception, condemned, no indulgence was shown to their errors or
weaknesses, nor a single step taken to win them back by mildness to the
bosom of the mother church.  Amongst the Protestants the wearisome
records of the subtle deliberations of the synod, and the absurdity of
its decisions, increased, if possible, the hearty contempt which they
had long entertained for popery, and laid open to their
controversialists new and hitherto unnoticed points of attack.  It was
an ill-judged step to bring the mysteries of the church too close to the
glaring torch of reason, and to fight with syllogisms for the tenets of
a blind belief.

Moreover, the decrees of the Council of Trent were not satisfactory even
to all the powers in communion with Rome.  France rejected them
entirely, both because she did not wish to displease the Huguenots, and
also because she was offended by the supremacy which the pope arrogated
to himself over the council; some of the Roman Catholic princes of
Germany likewise declared against it.  Little, however, as Philip II.
was pleased with many of its articles, which trenched too closely upon
his own rights, for no monarch was ever more jealous of his prerogative;
highly as the pope's assumption of control over the council, and its
arbitrary, precipitate dissolution had offended him; just as was his
indignation at the slight which the pope had put upon his ambassador; he
nevertheless acknowedged the decrees of the synod, even in its present
form, because it favored his darling object--the extirpation of heresy.
Political considerations were all postponed to this one religious
object, and he commanded the publication and enforcement of its canons
throughout his dominions.

The spirit of revolt, which was diffused through the Belgian provinces,
scarcely required this new stimulus.  There the minds of men were in a
ferment, and the character of the Romish Church had sunk almost to the
lowest point of contempt in the general opinion.  Under such
circumstances the imperious and frequently injudicious decrees of the
council could not fail of being highly offensive; but Philip II. could
not belie his religious character so far as to allow a different
religion to a portion of his subjects, even though they might live on a
different soil and under different laws from the rest.  The regent was
strictly enjoined to exact in the Netherlands the same obedience to the
decrees of Trent which was yielded to them in Spain and Italy.

They met, however, with the warmest opposition in the council of state
at Brussels.  "The nation," William of Orange declared, "neither would
nor could acknowledge them, since they were, for the most part, opposed
to the fundamental principles of their constitution; and, for similar
reasons, they had even been rejected by several Roman Catholic princes."
The whole council nearly was on the side of Orange; a decided majority
were for entreating the king either to recall the decrees entirely or at
least to publish them under certain limitations.  This proposition was
resisted by Viglius, who insisted on a strict and literal obedience to
the royal commands.  "The church," he said, "had in all ages maintained
the purity of its doctrines and the strictness of its discipline by
means of such general councils.  No more efficacious remedy could be
opposed to the errors of opinion which had so long distracted their
country than these very decrees, the rejection of which is now urged by
the council of state.  Even if they are occasionally at variance with
the constitutional rights of the citizens this is an evil which can
easily be met by a judicious and temperate application of them.  For the
rest it redounds to the honor of our sovereign, the King of Spain, that
he alone, of all the princes of his time, refuses to yield his better
judgment to necessity, and will not, for any fear of consequences,
reject measures which the welfare of the church demands, and which the
happiness of his subjects makes a duty."