Thus left without a leader, the little army which Brederode had gathered under his banner soon fell to pieces. Detachments, scattering over the country, committed various depredations, plundering the religious houses and engaging in encounters with the royal troops under Megen and Aremberg, in which the insurgents fared the worst. Thus broken on all sides, those who did not fall into the enemy's hands, or on the field, were too glad to make their escape into Germany. One vessel, containing a great number of fugitives, was wrecked, and all on board were made prisoners. Among them were two brothers, of the name of Battenberg; they were of a noble family, and prominent members of the league. They were at once, with their principal followers, thrown into prison, to await their doom from the bloody tribunal of Alva.

Deprived of all support from without, the city of Amsterdam offered no further resistance, but threw open its gates to the regent, and consented to accept her terms. These were the same that had been imposed on all the other refractory towns. The immunities of the city were declared to be forfeited, a garrison was marched into the place, and preparations were made for building a fortress, to guard against future commotions. Those who chose—with the customary exceptions—were allowed to leave the city. Great numbers availed themselves of the permission. The neighboring dikes were crowded with fugitives from the territory around, as well as from the city, anxiously waiting for vessels to transport them to Embden, the chief asylum of the exiles. There they stood, men, women, and children, a melancholy throng, without food, almost without raiment or any of the common necessaries of life, exciting the commiseration of even their Catholic adversaries.[914]

The example of Amsterdam was speedily followed by Delft, Haarlem, Rotterdam, Leyden, and the remaining towns of Holland, which now seemed to vie with one another in demonstrations of loyalty to the government. The triumph of the regent was complete. Her arms had been everywhere successful, and her authority was fully recognized throughout the whole extent of the Netherlands. Doubtful friends and open foes, Catholics and Reformers, were alike prostrate at her feet.[915] With the hour of triumph came also the hour of vengeance. And we can hardly doubt that the remembrance of past humiliation gave a sharper edge to the sword of justice. Fortresses, to overawe the inhabitants, were raised in the principal towns;[916] and the expense{308} of their construction, as well as of maintaining their garrison, was defrayed by fines laid on the refractory cities.[917] The regent's troops rode over the country, and wherever the reformed were gathered to hear the word, they were charged by the troopers, who trampled them under their horses' hoofs, shooting them down without mercy, or dragging them off by scores to execution. No town was so small that fifty at least did not perish in this way, while the number of the victims sometimes rose to two or even three hundred.[918] Everywhere along the road-side the traveller beheld the ghastly spectacle of bodies swinging from gibbets, or met with troops of miserable exiles flying from their native land.[919] Confiscation followed, as usual, in the train of persecution. At Tournay, the property of a hundred of the richest merchants was seized and appropriated by the government. Even the populace, like those animals who fall upon and devour one of their own number when wounded, now joined in the cry against the Reformers. They worked with the same alacrity as the soldiers in pulling down the Protestant churches; and from the beams, in some instances, formed the very gallows from which their unhappy victims were suspended.[920] Such is the picture, well charged with horrors, left to us by Protestant writers. We may be quite sure that it lost nothing of its darker coloring under their hands.

So strong was now the tide of emigration, that it threatened to depopulate some of the fairest provinces of the country. The regent, who at first rejoiced in this as the best means of ridding the land of its enemies, became alarmed, as she saw it was drawing off so large a portion of the industrious population. They fled to France, to Germany, and very many to England, where the wise Elizabeth provided them with homes, knowing well that, though poor, they brought with them a skill in the mechanic arts which would do more than gold and silver for the prosperity of her kingdom.

Margaret would have stayed this tide of emigration by promises of grace, if not by a general amnesty for the past. But though she had power to punish, Philip had not given her the power to pardon. And indeed promises of grace would have availed little with men flying from the dread presence of Alva.[921] It was the fear of him which gave wings to their flight, as Margaret herself plainly intimated in a letter to the duke, in which she deprecated his coming with an army, when nothing more was needed than a vigilant police.[922]

In truth, Margaret was greatly disgusted by the intended mission of the duke of Alva, of which she had been advised by the king some months before. She knew well the imperious temper of the man, and that, however high-sounding might be her own titles, the power would be lodged in his{309} hands. She felt this to be a poor requital for her past services,—a personal indignity, no less than an injury to the state. She gave free vent to her feelings on the subject in more than one letter to her brother.

In a letter of the fifth of April she says: "You have shown no regard for my wishes or my reputation. By your extraordinary restrictions on my authority, you have prevented my settling the affairs of the country entirely to my mind. Yet, seeing things in so good a state, you are willing to give all the credit to another, and leave me only the fatigue and danger.[923] But I am resolved, instead of wasting the remainder of my days, as I have already done my health, in this way, to retire and dedicate myself to a tranquil life in the service of God." In another letter, dated four weeks later, on the third of May, after complaining that the king withdraws his confidence more and more from her, she asks leave to withdraw, as the country is restored to order, and the royal authority more assured than in the time of Charles the Fifth.[924]

In this assurance respecting the public tranquillity, Margaret was no doubt sincere; as are also the historians who have continued to take the same view of the matter, down to the present time, and who consider the troubles of the country to have been so far composed by the regent, that, but for the coming of Alva, there would have been no revolution in the Netherlands. Indeed, there might have seemed to be good ground for such a conclusion. The revolt had been crushed. Resistance had everywhere ceased. The authority of the regent was recognized throughout the land. The league, which had raised so bold a front against the government, had crumbled away. Its members had fallen in battle, or lay waiting their sentence in dungeons, or were wandering as miserable exiles in distant lands. The name of Gueux, and the insignia of the bowl and the beggar's scrip, which they had assumed in derision, were now theirs by right. It was too true for a jest.

The party of reform had disappeared, as if by magic. Its worship was everywhere proscribed. On its ruins the Catholic religion had risen in greater splendor than ever. Its temples were restored, its services celebrated with more than customary pomp. The more austere and uncompromising of the Reformers had fled the country. Those who remained purchased impunity by a compulsory attendance on mass; or the wealthier sort, by the aid of good cheer or more substantial largesses, bribed the priest to silence.[925] At no time since the beginning of the Reformation had the clergy been treated with greater deference, or enjoyed a greater share of authority in the land. The dark hour of revolution seemed, indeed, to have passed away.

Yet a Fleming of that day might well doubt whether the prince of Orange were a man likely to resign his fair heritage and the land so dear to his heart without striking one blow in their defence. One who knew the wide spread of the principles of reform, and the sturdy character of the reformer, might distrust the permanence of a quiet which had been brought about by so much violence. He might rather think that, beneath the soil he was treading, the elements were still at work, which, at no distant time perhaps, would burst forth with redoubled violence, and spread ruin over the land! {310}

BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

The person employed was the bishop of Ascoli, and the good father delivered his rebuke in such blunt terms as caused a sensation at the court of Madrid. In a letter to his ambassador at Rome, Philip complained that the pope should have thus held him up to Christendom as one slack in the performance of his duty. The envoy had delivered himself in so strange a manner, Philip added, that, but for the respect and love he bore his holiness, he might have been led to take precisely the opposite course to the one he intended.[926]{311}

Yet notwithstanding this show of indignation, had it not been for the outbreak of the iconoclasts, it is not improbable that the king might still have continued to procrastinate, relying on his favorite maxim, that "Time and himself were a match for any other two."[927] But the event which caused such a sensation throughout Christendom roused every feeling of indignation in the royal bosom,—and this from the insult offered to the crown as well as to the Church. Contrary to his wont, the king expressed himself with so much warmth on the subject, and so openly, that the most sceptical began at last to believe that the long talked of visit was at hand. The only doubt was as to the manner in which it should be made; whether the king should march at the head of an army, or attended only by so much of a retinue as was demanded by his royal state.

The question was warmly discussed in the council. Ruy Gomez, the courtly favorite of Philip, was for the latter alternative. A civil war he deprecated, as bringing ruin even to the victor.[928] Clemency was the best attribute of a sovereign, and the people of Flanders were a generous race, more likely to be overcome by kindness than by arms.[929] In these liberal and humane views the prince of Eboli was supported by the politic secretary, Antonio Perez, and by the duke of Feria, formerly ambassador to London, a man who to polished manners united a most insinuating eloquence.

But very different opinions, as might be expected, were advanced by the duke of Alva. The system of indulgence, he said, had been that followed by the regent, and its fruits were visible. The weeds of heresy were not to be extirpated by a gentle hand; and his majesty should deal with his rebellious vassals as Charles the Fifth had dealt with their rebel fathers at Ghent.[930] These stern views received support from the Cardinal Espinosa, who held the office of president of the council, as well as of grand inquisitor, and who doubtless thought the insult offered to the Inquisition not the least of the offences to be charged on the Reformers.

Each of the great leaders recommended the measures most congenial with his own character, and which, had they been adopted, would probably have{312} required his own services to carry them into execution. Had the pacific course been taken, Feria, or more probably Ruy Gomez, would have been intrusted with the direction of affairs. Indeed, Montigny and Bergen, still detained in reluctant captivity at Madrid, strongly urged the king to send the prince of Eboli, as a man, who, by his popular manners and known discretion, would be most likely to reconcile opposite factions.[931] Were violent measures, on the other hand, to be adopted, to whom could they be so well intrusted as to the duke himself, the most experienced captain of his time?

The king, it is said, contrary to his custom, was present at the meeting of the council, and listened to the debate. He did not intimate his opinion. But it might be conjectured to which side he was most likely to lean, from his habitual preference for coercive measures.[932]

Philip came to a decision sooner than usual. In a few days he summoned the duke, and told him that he had resolved to send him forthwith, at the head of an army, to the Netherlands. It was only, however, to prepare the way for his own coming, which would take place as soon as the country was in a state sufficiently settled to receive him.

All was now alive with the business of preparation in Castile. Levies were raised throughout the country. Such was the zeal displayed, that even the Inquisition and the clergy advanced a considerable sum towards defraying the expenses of an expedition which they seemed to regard in the light of a crusade.[933] Magazines of provisions were ordered to be established at regular stations on the proposed line of march. Orders were sent, that the old Spanish garrisons in Lombardy, Naples, Sicily, and Sardinia, should be transported to the place of rendezvous in Piedmont, to await the coming of the duke, who would supply their places with the fresh recruits brought with him from Castile.

Philip meanwhile constantly proclaimed that Alva's departure was only the herald of his own. He wrote this to Margaret, assuring her of his purpose to go by water, and directing her to have a squadron of eight vessels in readiness to convoy him to Zealand, where he proposed to land. The vessels were accordingly equipped. Processions were made, and prayers put up in all the churches, for the prosperous passage of the king. Yet there were some in the Netherlands who remarked that prayers to avert the dangers of the sea were hardly needed by the monarch in his palace at Madrid![934] Many of those about the royal person soon indulged in the same scepticism in regard to the king's sincerity, as week after week passed away, and no arrangements were made for his departure. Among the contradictory rumors at court in respect to the king's intention, the pope's nuncio wrote, it was impossible to get at the truth.[935] It was easy to comprehend the general policy of Philip,{313} but impossible to divine the particular plans by which, it was to be carried out. If such was the veil which hid the monarch's purposes even from the eyes of those who had nearest access to his person, how can we hope at this distance of time to penetrate it? Yet the historian of the nineteenth century is admitted to the perusal of many an authentic document revealing the royal purpose, which never came under the eye of the courtier of Madrid.

With all the light thus afforded, it is still difficult to say whether Philip ever was sincere in his professions of visiting the Netherlands. If he were so at any time, it certainly was not after he had decided on the mission of Alva. Philip widely differed from his father in a sluggishness of body which made any undertaking that required physical effort exceedingly irksome. He shrunk from no amount of sedentary labor, would toil from morning till midnight in his closet, like the humblest of his secretaries. But a journey was a great undertaking. After his visits, during his father's lifetime, to England and the Low Countries, he rarely travelled farther, as his graceless son satirically hinted, than from Madrid to Aranjuez, or Madrid to the Escorial. A thing so formidable as an expedition to Flanders, involving a tedious journey through an unfriendly land, or a voyage through seas not less unfriendly, was what, under ordinary circumstances, the king would have never dreamed of.

The present aspect of affairs, moreover, had nothing in it particularly inviting,—especially to a prince of Philip's temper. Never was there a prince more jealous of his authority; and the indignities to which he might have been exposed, in the disorderly condition of the country, might well have come to the aid of his constitutional sluggishness to deter him from the visit.

Under these circumstances, it is not strange that Philip, if he had ever entertained a vague project of a journey to the Netherlands, should have yielded to his natural habit of procrastination. The difficulties of a winter's voyage, the necessity of summoning the cortes and settling the affairs of the kingdom, his own protracted illness, furnished so many apologies for postponing the irksome visit, until the time had passed when such a visit could be effectual.

That he should so strenuously have asserted his purpose of going to the Netherlands may be explained by a desire in some sort to save his credit with those who seemed to think that the present exigency demanded he should go. He may have also thought it politic to keep up the idea of a visit to the Low Countries, in order to curb—as it no doubt had the effect in some degree of curbing—the licence of the people, who believed they were soon to be called to a reckoning for their misdeeds by their prince in person. After all, the conduct of Philip on this occasion, and the motives assigned for his delay in his letters to Margaret, must be allowed to afford a curious coincidence with those ascribed, in circumstances not dissimilar, by the Roman historian to Tiberius.[936]

On the fifteenth of April, 1567, Alva had his last audience of Philip at Aranjuez. He immediately after departed for Carthagena, where a fleet of thirty-six vessels, under the Genoese Admiral Doria, lay riding at anchor to receive him. He was detained some time for the arrival of the troops, and while there he received despatches from court containing his commission of captain-general, and particular instructions as to the course he was to pursue in the Netherlands. They were so particular, that, notwithstanding the broad extent of his powers, the duke wrote to his master complaining of his{314} want of confidence, and declaring that he had never been hampered by instructions so minute, even under the emperor.[937] One who has studied the character of Philip will find no difficulty in believing it.

On the twenty-seventh of April, the fleet weighed anchor; but in consequence of a detention of some days at several places on the Catalan coast, it did not reach the Genoese port of Savona till the seventeenth of the next month. The duke had been ill when he went on board; and his gouty constitution received no benefit from the voyage. Yet he did not decline the hospitalities offered by the Genoese nobles, who vied with the senate in showing the Spanish commander every testimony of respect. At Asti he was waited on by Albuquerque, the Milanese viceroy, and by ambassadors from different Italian provinces, eager to pay homage to the military representative of the Spanish monarch. But the gout under which Alva labored was now aggravated by an attack of tertian ague, and for a week or more he was confined to his bed.

Meanwhile the troops had assembled at the appointed rendezvous; and the duke, as soon as he had got the better of his disorder, made haste to review them. They amounted in all to about ten thousand men, of whom less than thirteen hundred were cavalry. But though small in amount, it was a picked body of troops, such as was hardly to be matched in Europe. The infantry, in particular, were mostly Spaniards,—veterans who had been accustomed to victory under the banner of Charles the Fifth, and many of them trained to war under the eye of Alva himself. He preferred such a body, compact and well disciplined as it was, to one which, unwieldy from its size, would have been less fitted for a rapid march across the mountains.[938]

Besides those of the common file, there were many gentlemen and cavaliers of note, who, weary of repose, came as volunteers to gather fresh laurels under so renowned a chief as the duke of Alva. Among these was Vitelli, marquis of Cetona, a Florentine soldier of high repute in his profession, but who, though now embarked in what might be called a war of religion, was held so indifferent to religion of any kind, that a whimsical epitaph on the sceptic denies him the possession of a soul.[939] Another of these volunteers was Mondragone, a veteran of Charles the Fifth, whose character for chivalrous exploit was unstained by those deeds of cruelty and rapine which were so often the reproach of the cavalier of the sixteenth century. The duties of the commissariat, particularly difficult in a campaign like the present, were intrusted to an experienced Spanish officer named Ibarra. To the duke of Savoy Alva was indebted for an eminent engineer named Paciotti, whose services proved of great importance in the construction of fortresses{315} in the Netherlands. Alva had also brought with him his two sons, Frederic and Ferdinand de Toledo,—the latter an illegitimate child, for whom the father showed as much affection as it was in his rugged nature to feel for any one. To Ferdinand was given the command of the cavalry, composed chiefly of Italians.[940]

Having reviewed his forces, the duke formed them into three divisions. This he did in order to provide the more easily for their subsistence on his long and toilsome journey. The divisions were to be separated from one another by a day's march; so that each would take up at night the same quarters which had been occupied by the preceding division on the night before. Alva himself led the van.[941]

He dispensed with artillery, not willing to embarrass his movements in his passage across the mountains. But he employed what was then a novelty in war. Each company of foot was flanked by a body of soldiers, carrying heavy muskets with rests attached to them. This sort of fire-arms, from their cumbrous nature, had hitherto been used only in the defence of fortresses. But with these portable rests, they were found efficient for field service, and as such came into general use after this period.[942] Their introduction by Alva may be regarded, therefore, as an event of some importance in the history of military art.

The route that Alva proposed to take was that over Mount Cenis, the same, according to tradition, by which Hannibal crossed the great barrier some eighteen centuries before.[943] If less formidable than in the days of the Carthaginian,{316} it was far from being the practicable route so easily traversed, whether by trooper or tourist, at the present day. Steep rocky heights, shaggy with forests, where the snows of winter still lingered in the midst of June; fathomless ravines, choked up with the débris washed down by the mountain torrent; paths scarcely worn by the hunter and his game, affording a precarious footing on the edge of giddy precipices; long and intricate defiles, where a handful of men might hold an army at bay, and from the surrounding heights roll down ruin on their heads;—these were the obstacles which Alva and his followers had to encounter, as they threaded their toilsome way through a country where the natives bore no friendly disposition to the Spaniards.

Their route lay at no great distance from Geneva, that stronghold of the Reformers; and Pius the Fifth would have persuaded the duke to turn from his course, and exterminate this "nest of devils and apostates,"[944]—as the Christian father was pleased to term them. The people of Geneva, greatly alarmed at the prospect of an invasion, applied to their Huguenot brethren for aid. The prince of Condé and the Admiral Coligni—the leaders of that party—offered their services to the French monarch to raise fifty thousand men, fall upon his old enemies, the Spaniards, and cut them off in the passes of the mountains. But Charles the Ninth readily understood the drift of this proposal. Though he bore little love to the Spaniards, he bore still less to the Reformers. He therefore declined this offer of the Huguenot chiefs, adding that he was able to protect France without their assistance.[945] The Genevans were accordingly obliged to stand to their own defence, though they gathered confidence from the promised support of their countrymen of Berne; and the whole array of these brave mountaineers was in arms, ready to repel any assault of the Spaniards on their own territory or on that of their allies, in their passage through the country. But this was unnecessary. Though Alva passed within six leagues of Geneva, and the request of the pontiff was warmly seconded by the duke of Savoy, the Spanish general did not deem it prudent to comply with it, declaring that his commission extended no further than to the Netherlands. Without turning to the right or to the left he held on, therefore, straight towards the mark, anxious only to extricate himself as speedily as possible from the perilous passes where he might be taken at so obvious disadvantage by an enemy.

Yet such were the difficulties he had to encounter, that a fortnight elapsed before he was able to set foot on the friendly plains of Burgundy,—that part of the ancient duchy which acknowledged the authority of Spain. Here he received the welcome addition to his ranks of four hundred horse, the flower of the Burgundian chivalry. On his way across the country he was accompanied by a French army of observation, some six thousand strong, which moved in a parallel direction, at the distance of six or seven leagues only from the line of march pursued by the Spaniards,—though without offering them any molestation.

Soon after entering Lorraine, Alva was met by the duke of that province, who seemed desirous to show him every respect, and entertained him with princely hospitality. After a brief detention, the Spanish general resumed{317} his journey, and on the 8th of August crossed the frontiers of the Netherlands.[946]

His long and toilsome march had been accomplished without an untoward accident, and with scarcely a disorderly act on the part of the soldiers. No man's property had been plundered. No peasant's hut had been violated. The cattle had been allowed to graze unmolested in the fields, and the flocks to wander in safety over their mountain pastures. One instance only to the contrary is mentioned,—that of three troopers, who carried off one or two straggling sheep as the army was passing through Lorraine. But they were soon called to a heavy reckoning for their transgression. Alva, on being informed of the fact, sentenced them all to the gallows. At the intercession of the duke of Lorraine, the sentence was so far mitigated by the Spanish commander, that one only of the three, selected by lot, was finally executed.[947]

The admirable discipline maintained among Alva's soldiers was the more conspicuous in an age when the name of soldier was synonymous with that of marauder. It mattered little whether it were a friendly country or that of a foe through which lay the line of march. The defenceless peasant was everywhere the prey of the warrior; and the general winked at the outrages of his followers, as the best means of settling their arrears.

What made the subordination of the troops, in the present instance, still more worthy of notice, was the great number of camp followers, especially courtesans, who hung on the skirts of the army. These latter mustered in such force, that they were divided into battalions and companies, marching each under its own banner, and subjected to a sort of military organization, like the men.[948] The duke seems to have been as careless of the morals of his soldiers as he was careful of their discipline; perhaps willing by his laxity in the one to compensate for his severity in the other.

It was of the last importance to Alva that his soldiers should commit no trespass, nor entangle him in a quarrel with the dangerous people through the midst of whom he was to pass; and who, from their superior knowledge of the country, as well as their numbers, could so easily overpower him. Fortunately, he had received such intimations before his departure as put him on his guard. The result was, that he obtained such a mastery over his followers, and enforced so perfect a discipline, as excited the general admiration of his contemporaries, and made his march to the Low Countries one of the most memorable events of the period.[949]{318}

At Thionville the duke was waited on by Barlaimont and Noircarmes, who came to offer the salutations of the regent, and at the same time to request to see his powers. At the same place, and on the way to the capital, the duke was met by several of the Flemish nobility, who came to pay their respects to him; among the rest, Egmont, attended by forty of his retainers. On his entering Alva's presence, the duke exclaimed to one of his officers, "Here comes a great heretic!" The words were overheard by Egmont, who hesitated a moment, naturally disconcerted by what would have served as an effectual warning to any other man. But Alva made haste to efface the impression caused by his heedless exclamation, receiving Egmont with so much cordiality as reassured the infatuated nobleman, who, regarding the words as a jest, before his departure presented the duke with two beautiful horses.—Such is the rather singular story which comes down to us on what must be admitted to be respectable authority.[950]

Soon after he had entered the country, the duke detached the greater part of his forces to garrison some of the principal cities, and relieve the Walloon troops on duty there, less to be trusted than his Spanish veterans. With the Milanese brigade he took the road to Brussels, which he entered on the twenty-second of August. His cavalry he established at ten leagues' distance from the capital, and the infantry he lodged in the suburbs. Far from being greeted by acclamations, no one came out to welcome him as he entered the city, which seemed like a place deserted. He went straight to the palace, to offer his homage to the regent. An altercation took place on the threshold between his halberdiers and Margaret's body-guard of archers, who disputed the entrance of the Spanish soldiers. The duke himself was conducted to the bed-chamber of the duchess, where she was in the habit of giving audience. She was standing, with a few Flemish nobles by her side; and she remained in that position, without stirring a single step to receive her visitor. Both parties continued standing during the interview, which lasted half an hour; the duke during the greater part of the time with his hat in his hand, although Margaret requested him to be covered. The curious spectators of this conference amused themselves by contrasting the courteous and even deferential manners of the haughty Spaniard with the chilling reserve and stately demeanor of the duchess.[951] At the close of the interview Alva withdrew to his own quarters at Culemborg House,—the place, it will be remembered, where the Gueux held their memorable banquet on their visit to Brussels.

The following morning, at the request of the council of state, the duke of Alva furnished that body with a copy of his commission. By this he was invested with the title of captain-general, and in that capacity was to exercise supreme control in all military affairs.[952] By another commission, dated two{319} months later, these powers were greatly enlarged. The country was declared in a state of rebellion; and, as milder means had failed to bring it to obedience, it was necessary to resort to arms. The duke was therefore commanded to levy war on the refractory people, and reduce them to submission. He was moreover to inquire into the causes of the recent troubles, and bring the suspected parties to trial, with full authority to punish or to pardon as he might judge best for the public weal.[953] Finally, a third commission, of more startling import than the two preceding, and which, indeed, might seem to supersede them altogether, was dated on the first of March, 1567. In the former instruments the duke was so far required to act in subordination to the regent, that her authority was declared to be unimpaired. But by virtue of this last commission he was invested with supreme control in civil as well as military affairs; and persons of every degree, including the regent herself, were enjoined to render obedience to his commands, as to those of the king.[954] Such a commission, which placed the government of the country in the hands of Alva, was equivalent to a dismissal of Margaret. The title of "regent," which still remained to her, was an empty mockery; nor could it be thought that she would be content to retain a barren sceptre in the country over which she had so long ruled.

It is curious to observe the successive steps by which Philip had raised Alva from the rank of captain-general of the army to supreme authority in the country. It would seem as if the king were too tenacious of power readily to part with it; and that it was only by successive efforts, as the conviction of the necessity of such a step pressed more and more on his mind, that he determined to lodge the government in the hands of Alva.

Whether the duke acquainted the council with the full extent of his powers, or, as seems more probable, communicated to that body only his first two commissions, it is impossible to say. At all events, the members do not appear to have been prepared for the exhibition of powers so extensive, and which, even in the second of the commissions, transcended those exercised by the regent herself. A consciousness that they did so had led Philip, in more than one instance, to qualify the language of the instrument, in such a manner as not to rouse the jealousy of his sister,—an artifice so obvious, that it probably produced a contrary effect. At any rate, Margaret did not affect to conceal her disgust, but talked openly of the affront put on her by the king, and avowed her determination to throw up the government.[955]

She gave little attention to business, passing most of her days in hunting, of which masculine sport she was excessively fond. She even threatened to{320} amuse herself with journeying about from place to place, leaving public affairs to take care of themselves, till she should receive the king's permission to retire.[956] From this indulgence of her spleen she was dissuaded by her secretary, Armenteros, who, shifting his sails to suit the breeze, showed, soon after Alva's coming, his intention to propitiate the new governor. There were others of Margaret's adherents less accommodating. Some high in office intimated very plainly their discontent at the presence of the Spaniards, from which they boded only calamity to the country.[957] Margaret's confessor, in a sermon preached before the regent, did not scruple to denounce the Spaniards as so many "knaves, traitors, and ravishers."[958] And although the remonstrance of the loyal Armenteros induced the duchess to send back the honest man to his convent, it was plain, from the warm terms in which she commended the preacher, that she was far from being displeased with his discourse.

The duke of Alva cared little for the hatred of the Flemish lords.[959] But he felt otherwise towards the regent. He would willingly have soothed her irritation; and he bent his haughty spirit to show, in spite of her coldness, a deference in his manner that must have done some violence to his nature. As a mark of respect, he proposed at once to pay her another visit, and in great state, as suited her rank. But Margaret, feigning or feeling herself too ill to receive him, declined his visit for some days, and at last, perhaps to mortify him the more, vouchsafed him only a private audience in her own apartment.

Yet at this interview she showed more condescension than before, and even went so far as to assure the duke that there was no one whose appointment would have been more acceptable to her.[960] She followed this, by bluntly demanding why he had been sent at all. Alva replied, that, as she had often intimated her desire for a more efficient military force, he had come to aid her in the execution of her measures, and to restore peace to the country before the arrival of his majesty.[961]—The answer could hardly have pleased the duchess, who doubtless considered she had done that without his aid, already.

The discourse fell upon the mode of quartering the troops. Alva proposed to introduce a Spanish garrison into Brussels. To this Margaret objected with great energy. But the duke on this point was inflexible. Brussels was the royal residence, and the quiet of the city could only be secured by a garrison. "If people murmur," he concluded, "you can tell them I am a headstrong man, bent on having my own way. I am willing to take all the odium{321} of the measure on myself."[962] Thus thwarted, and made to feel her inferiority when any question of real power was involved, Margaret felt the humiliation of her position even more keenly than before. The appointment of Alva had been from the first, as we have seen, a source of mortification to the duchess. In December, 1566, soon after Philip had decided on sending the duke, with the authority of captain-general, to the Low Countries, he announced it in a letter to Margaret. He had been as much perplexed, he said, in the choice of a commander, as she could have been; and it was only at her suggestion of the necessity of some one to take the military command, that he had made such a nomination. Alva was, however, only to prepare the way for him, to assemble a force on the frontier, establish the garrisons, and enforce discipline among the troops till he came.[963] Philip was careful not to alarm his sister by any hint of the extraordinary powers to be conferred on the duke, who thus seemed to be sent only in obedience to her suggestion, and in subordination to her authority.—Margaret knew too well that Alva was not a man to act in subordination to any one. But whatever misgivings she may have had, she hardly betrayed them in her reply to Philip, in the following February, 1567, when she told the king she "was sure he would never be so unjust, and do a thing so prejudicial to the interests of the country, as to transfer to another the powers he had vested in her."[964]

The appointment of Alva may have stimulated the regent to the extraordinary efforts she then made to reduce the country to order. When she had achieved this, she opened her mind more freely to her brother, in a letter dated July 12, 1567. "The name of Alva was so odious in the Netherlands that it was enough to make the whole Spanish nation detested.[965] She could never have imagined that the king would make such an appointment without consulting her." She then, alluding to orders lately received from Madrid, shows extreme repugnance to carry out the stern policy of Philip;[966]—a repugnance, it must be confessed, that seems to rest less on the character of the measures than on the difficulty of their execution.

When the duchess learned that Alva was in Italy, she wrote also to him, hoping at this late hour to arrest his progress by the assurance that the troubles were now at an end, and that his appearance at the head of an army would only serve to renew them. But the duke was preparing for his march across the Alps, and it would have been as easy to stop the avalanche in its descent, as to stay the onward course of this "man of destiny."

The state of Margaret's feelings was shown by the chilling reception she gave the duke on his arrival in Brussels. The extent of his powers, so much beyond what she had imagined, did not tend to soothe the irritation of the regent's temper; and the result of the subsequent interview filled up the measure of her indignation. However forms might be respected, it was clear the power had passed into other hands. She wrote at once to Philip, requesting, or rather requiring, his leave to withdraw without delay from the country. "If he had really felt the concern he professed for her welfare and reputation, he{322} would have allowed her to quit the government before being brought into rivalry with a man like the duke of Alva, who took his own course in everything, without the least regard to her. It afflicted her to the bottom of her soul to have been thus treated by the king."[967]

It may have given some satisfaction to Margaret, that in her feelings towards the duke she had the entire sympathy of the nation. In earlier days, in the time of Charles the Fifth, Alva had passed some time both in Germany and in the Netherlands, and had left there no favorable impression of his character. In the former country, indeed, his haughty deportment on a question of etiquette had caused some embarrassment to his master. Alva insisted on the strange privilege of the Castilian grandee to wear his hat in the presence of his sovereign. The German nobles, scandalized by this pretension in a subject, asserted that their order had as good a right to it as the Spaniards. It was not without difficulty that the proud duke was content to waive the contested privilege till his return to Spain.[968]

Another anecdote of Alva had left a still more unfavorable impression of his character. He had accompanied Charles on his memorable visit to Ghent, on occasion of its rebellion. The emperor asked the duke's counsel as to the manner in which he should deal with his refractory capital. Alva instantly answered, "Raze it to the ground!" Charles, without replying, took the duke with him to the battlements of the castle; and as their eyes wandered over the beautiful city spread out far and wide below, the emperor asked him, with a pun on the French name of Ghent (Gand), how many Spanish hides it would take to make such a glove (gant). Alva, who saw his master's displeasure, received the rebuke in silence. The story, whether true or not, was current among the people of Flanders, on whom it produced its effect.[969]

Alva was now sixty years old. It was not likely that age had softened the asperity of his nature. He had, as might be expected, ever shown himself the uncompromising enemy of the party of reform in the Low Countries. He had opposed the concession made to the nation by the recall of Granvelle. The only concessions he recommended to Philip were in order to lull the suspicions of the great lords, till he could bring them to a bloody reckoning for their misdeeds.[970] The general drift of his policy was perfectly understood in the Netherlands, and the duchess had not exaggerated when she dwelt on the detestation in which he was held by the people.

His course on his arrival was not such as to diminish the fears of the nation. His first act was to substitute in the great towns his own troops, men who knew no law but the will of their chief, for the Walloon garrisons, who might naturally have some sympathy with their countrymen. His next was to construct some fortresses, under the direction of one of the ablest engineers in Europe. The hour had come when, in the language of the prince of Orange, his countrymen were to be bridled by the Spaniard.