Life and Death of John of Barneveld is a Webnovel created by John Lothrop Motley.
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“But it was all Marquis Spinola’s fault,” he said, “who wished to show himself off as a warrior.”
The King, having thus through the mouth of his secretary of state warmly protested against his supposed implication in the attempted abduction, began as furiously to rail at de Coeuvres for its failure; telling the Duc de Vendome that his uncle was an idiot, and writing that unlucky envoy most abusive letters for blundering in the scheme which had been so well concerted between them. Then he sent for Malherbe, who straightway perpetrated more poems to express the King’s despair, in which Henry was made to liken himself to a skeleton with a dried skin, and likewise to a violet turned up by the ploughshare and left to wither.
He kept up through Madame de Berny a correspondence with “his beautiful angel,” as he called the Princess, whom he chose to consider a prisoner and a victim; while she, wearied to death with the frigid monotony and sepulchral gaieties of the archiducal court, which she openly called her “dungeon” diverted herself with the freaks and fantasies of her royal adorer, called him in very ill-spelled letters “her chevalier, her heart, her all the world,” and frequently wrote to beg him, at the suggestion of the intriguing Chateau Vert, to devise some means of rescuing her from prison.
The Constable and d.u.c.h.ess meanwhile affected to be sufficiently satisfied with the state of things. Conde, however, received a letter from the King, formally summoning him to return to France, and, in case of refusal, declaring him guilty of high-treason for leaving the kingdom without the leave and against the express commands of the King. To this letter, brought to him by de Coeuvres, the Prince replied by a paper, drawn up and served by a notary of Brussels, to the effect that he had left France to save his life and honour; that he was ready to return when guarantees were given him for the security of both. He would live and die, he said, faithful to the King. But when the King, departing from the paths of justice, proceeded through those of violence against him, he maintained that every such act against his person was null and invalid.
Henry had even the incredible meanness and folly to request the Queen to write to the Archdukes, begging that the Princess might be restored to a.s.sist at her coronation. Mary de’ Medici vigorously replied once more that, although obliged to wink at the King’s amours, she declined to be his procuress. Conde then went off to Milan very soon after the scene at the Na.s.sau Palace and the removal of the Princess to the care of the Archdukes. He was very angry with his wife, from whom he expressed a determination to be divorced, and furious with the King, the validity of whose second marriage and the legitimacy of whose children he proposed with Spanish help to dispute.
The Constable was in favour of the divorce, or pretended to be so, and caused importunate letters to be written, which he signed, to both Albert and Isabella, begging that his daughter might be restored to him to be the staff of his old age, and likewise to be present at the Queen’s coronation. The Archdukes, however, resolutely refused to permit her to leave their protection without Conde’s consent, or until after a divorce had been effected, notwithstanding that the father and aunt demanded it.
The Constable and d.u.c.h.ess however, acquiesced in the decision, and expressed immense grat.i.tude to Isabella.
“The father and aunt have been talking to Pecquius,” said Henry very dismally; “but they give me much pain. They are even colder than the season, but my fire thaws them as soon as I approach.”
“P. S.–I am so pining away in my anguish that I am nothing but skin and bones. Nothing gives me pleasure. I fly from company, and if in order to comply with the law of nations I go into some a.s.sembly or other, instead of enlivening, it nearly kills me.”–[Lettres missives de Henri vii.
834].
And the King took to his bed. Whether from gout, fever, or the pangs of disappointed love, he became seriously ill. Furious with every one, with Conde, the Constable, de Coeuvres, the Queen, Spinola, with the Prince of Orange, whose councillor Keeremans had been encouraging Conde in his rebellion and in going to Spain with Spinola, he was now resolved that the war should go on. Aerssens, cautious of saying too much on paper of this very delicate affair, always intimated to Barneveld that, if the Princess could be restored, peace was still possible, and that by moving an inch ahead of the King in the Cleve matter the States at the last moment might be left in the lurch. He distinctly told the Advocate, on his expressing a hope that Henry might consent to the Prince’s residence in some neutral place until a reconciliation could be effected, that the pinch of the matter was not there, and that van der Myle, who knew all about it, could easily explain it.
Alluding to the project of reviving the process against the Dowager, and of divorcing the Prince and Princess, he said these steps would do much harm, as they would too much justify the true cause of the retreat of the Prince, who was not believed when he merely talked of his right of primogeniture: “The matter weighs upon us very heavily,” he said, “but the trouble is that we don’t search for the true remedies. The matter is so delicate that I don’t dare to discuss it to the very bottom.”
The Amba.s.sador had a long interview with the King as he lay in his bed feverish and excited. He was more impatient than ever for the arrival of the States’ special emba.s.sy, reluctantly acquiesced in the reasons a.s.signed for the delay, but trusted that it would arrive soon with Barneveld at the head, and with Count Lewis William as a member for “the sword part of it.”
He railed at the Prince of Orange, not believing that Keeremans would have dared to do what he had done but with the orders of his master. He said that the King of Spain would supply Conde with money and with everything he wanted, knowing that he could make use of him to trouble his kingdom. It was strange, he thought, that Philip should venture to these extremities with his affairs in such condition, and when he had so much need of repose. He recalled all his ancient grievances against Spain, his rights to the Kingdom of Navarre and the County of St. Pol violated; the conspiracy of Biron, the intrigues of Bouillon, the plots of the Count of Auvergne and the Marchioness of Verneuil, the treason of Meragne, the corruption of L’Hoste, and an infinity of other plots of the King and his ministers; of deep injuries to him and to the public repose, not to be tolerated by a mighty king like himself, with a grey beard. He would be revenged, he said, for this last blow, and so for all the rest.
He would not leave a troublesome war on the hands of his young son. The occasion was favourable. It was just to defend the oppressed princes with the promptly accorded a.s.sistance of the States-General. The King of Great Britain was favourable. The Duke of Savoy was pledged. It was better to begin the war in his green old age than to wait the pleasure and opportunity of the King of Spain.
All this he said while racked with fever, and dismissed the Envoy at last, after a long interview, with these words: “Mr. Amba.s.sador–I have always spoken roundly and frankly to you, and you will one day be my witness that I have done all that I could to draw the Prince out of the plight into which he has put himself. But he is struggling for the succession to this crown under instructions from the Spaniards, to whom he has entirely pledged himself. He has already received 6000 crowns for his equipment. I know that you and my other friends will work for the conservation of this monarchy, and will never abandon me in my designs to weaken the power of Spain. Pray G.o.d for my health.”
The King kept his bed a few days afterwards, but soon recovered. Villeroy sent word to Barneveld in answer to his suggestions of reconciliation that it was too late, that Conde was entirely desperate and Spanish. The crown of France was at stake, he said, and the Prince was promising himself miracles and mountains with the aid of Spain, loudly declaring the marriage of Mary de’ Medici illegal, and himself heir to the throne.
The Secretary of State professed himself as impatient as his master for the arrival of the emba.s.sy; the States being the best friends France ever had and the only allies to make the war succeed.
Jeannin, who was now never called to the council, said that the war was not for Germany but for Conde, and that Henry could carry it on for eight years. He too was most anxious for Barneveld’s arrival, and was of his opinion that it would have been better for Conde to be persuaded to remain at Breda and be supported by his brother-in-law, the Prince of Orange. The impetuosity of the King had however swept everything before it, and Conde had been driven to declare himself Spanish and a pretender to the crown. There was no issue now but war.
Boderie, the King’s envoy in Great Britain, wrote that James would be willing to make a defensive league for the affairs of Cleve and Julich only, which was the slenderest amount of a.s.sistance; but Henry always suspected Master Jacques of intentions to baulk him if possible and traverse his designs. But the die was cast. Spinola had carried off Conde in triumph; the Princess was pining in her gilt cage in Brussels, and demanding a divorce for desertion and cruel treatment; the King considered himself as having done as much as honour allowed him to effect a reconciliation, and it was obvious that, as the States’ amba.s.sador said, he could no longer retire from the war without shame, which would be the greatest danger of all.
“The tragedy is ready to begin,” said Aerssens. “They are only waiting now for the arrival of our amba.s.sadors.”
On the 9th March the King before going to Fontainebleau for a few days summoned that envoy to the Louvre. Impatient at a slight delay in his arrival, Henry came down into the courtyard as he was arriving and asked eagerly if Barneveld was coming to Paris. Aerssens replied, that the Advocate had been hastening as much as possible the departure of the special emba.s.sy, but that the condition of affairs at home was such as not to permit him to leave the country at that moment. Van der Myle, who would be one of the amba.s.sadors, would more fully explain this by word of mouth.
The King manifested infinite annoyance and disappointment that Barneveld was not to make part of the emba.s.sy. “He says that he reposes such singular confidence in your authority in the state, experience in affairs, and affection for himself,” wrote Aerssens, “that he might treat with you in detail and with open heart of all his designs. He fears now that the amba.s.sadors will be limited in their powers and instructions, and unable to reply at once on the articles which at different times have been proposed to me for our enterprise. Thus much valuable time will be wasted in sending backwards and forwards.”
The King also expressed great anxiety to consult with Count Lewis William in regard to military details, but his chief sorrow was in regard to the Advocate. “He acquiesced only with deep displeasure and regret in your reasons,” said the Amba.s.sador, “and says that he can hope for nothing firm now that you refuse to come.”
Villeroy intimated that Barneveld did not come for fear of exciting the jealousy of the English.
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
He who spreads the snare always tumbles into the ditch himself Most detestable verses that even he had ever composed She declined to be his procuress
THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND
WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS’ WAR
By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.
The Life and Death of John of Barneveld, v3, 1610
CHAPTER IV.
Difficult Position of Barneveld–Insurrection at Utrecht subdued by the States’ Army–Special Emba.s.sies to England and France–Anger of the King with Spain and the Archdukes–Arrangements of Henry for the coming War–Position of Spain–Anxiety of the King for the Presence of Barneveld in Paris–Arrival of the Dutch Commissioners in France and their brilliant Reception–Their Interview with the King and his Ministers–Negotiations–Delicate Position of the Dutch Government– India Trade–Simon Danzer, the Corsair–Conversations of Henry with the Dutch Commissioners–Letter of the King to Archduke Albert– Preparations for the Queen’s Coronation, and of Henry to open the Campaign in person–Perplexities of Henry–Forebodings and Warnings –The Murder accomplished–Terrible Change in France–Triumph of Concini and of Spain–Downfall of Sully–Disputes of the Grandees among themselves–Special Mission of Condelence from the Republic– Conference on the great Enterprise–Departure of van der Myle from Paris.
There were reasons enough why the Advocate could not go to Paris at this juncture. It was absurd in Henry to suppose it possible. Everything rested on Barneveld’s shoulders. During the year which had just pa.s.sed he had drawn almost every paper, every instruction in regard to the peace negotiations, with his own hand, had a.s.sisted at every conference, guided and mastered the whole course of a most difficult and intricate negotiation, in which he had not only been obliged to make allowance for the humbled pride and baffled ambition of the ancient foe of the Netherlands, but to steer clear of the innumerable jealousies, susceptibilities, cavillings, and insolences of their patronizing friends.
It was his brain that worked, his tongue that spoke, his restless pen that never paused. His was not one of those easy posts, not unknown in the modern administration of great affairs, where the subordinate furnishes the intellect, the industry, the experience, while the bland superior, gratifying the world with his sign-manual, appropriates the applause. So long as he lived and worked, the States-General and the States of Holland were like a cunningly contrived machine, which seemed to be alive because one invisible but mighty mind vitalized the whole.
And there had been enough to do. It was not until midsummer of 1609 that the ratifications of the Treaty of Truce, one of the great triumphs in the history of diplomacy, had been exchanged, and scarcely had this period been put to the eternal clang of arms when the death of a lunatic threw the world once more into confusion. It was obvious to Barneveld that the issue of the Cleve-Julich affair, and of the tremendous religious fermentation in Bohemia, Moravia, and Austria, must sooner or later lead to an immense war. It was inevitable that it would devolve upon the States to sustain their great though vacillating, their generous though encroaching, their sincere though most irritating, ally. And yet, thoroughly as Barneveld had mastered all the complications and perplexities of the religious and political question, carefully as he had calculated the value of the opposing forces which were shaking Christendom, deeply as he had studied the characters of Matthias and Rudolph, of Charles of Denmark and Ferdinand of Graz, of Anhalt and Maximilian, of Brandenburg and Neuburg, of James and Philip, of Paul V.
and Charles Emmanuel, of Sully and Yilleroy, of Salisbury and Bacon, of Lerma and Infantado; adroitly as he could measure, weigh, and a.n.a.lyse all these elements in the great problem which was forcing itself on the attention of Europe–there was one factor with which it was difficult for this austere republican, this cold, unsusceptible statesman, to deal: the intense and imperious pa.s.sion of a greybeard for a woman of sixteen.
For out of the cauldron where the miscellaneous elements of universal war were bubbling rose perpetually the fantastic image of Margaret Montmorency: the fatal beauty at whose caprice the heroic sword of Ivry and Cahors was now uplifted and now sheathed.
Aerssens was baffled, and reported the humours of the court where he resided as changing from hour to hour. To the last he reported that all the mighty preparations then nearly completed “might evaporate in smoke”
if the Princess of Conde should come back. Every amba.s.sador in Paris was baffled. Peter Pecquius was as much in the dark as Don Inigo de Cardenas, as Ubaldini or Edmonds. No one save Sully, Aerssens, Barneveld, and the King knew the extensive arrangements and profound combinations which had been made for the war. Yet not Sully, Aerssens, Barneveld, or the King, knew whether or not the war would really be made.
Barneveld had to deal with this perplexing question day by day. His correspondence with his amba.s.sador at Henry’s court was enormous, and we have seen that the Amba.s.sador was with the King almost daily; sleeping or waking; at dinner or the chase; in the cabinet or the courtyard.
But the Advocate was also obliged to carry in his arms, as it were, the brood of snarling, bickering, cross-grained German princes, to supply them with money, with arms, with counsel, with brains; to keep them awake when they went to sleep, to steady them in their track, to teach them to go alone. He had the congress at Hall in Suabia to supervise and direct; he had to see that the amba.s.sadors of the new republic, upon which they in reality were already half dependent and chafing at their dependence, were treated with the consideration due to the proud position which the Commonwealth had gained. Questions of etiquette were at that moment questions of vitality. He instructed his amba.s.sadors to leave the congress on the spot if they were ranked after the envoys of princes who were only feudatories of the Emperor. The Dutch amba.s.sadors, “recognising and relying upon no superiors but G.o.d and their sword,” placed themselves according to seniority with the representatives of proudest kings.
He had to extemporize a system of free international communication with all the powers of the earth–with the Turk at Constantinople, with the Czar of Muscovy; with the potentates of the Baltic, with both the Indies.
The routine of a long established and well organized foreign office in a time-honoured state running in grooves; with well-balanced springs and well oiled wheels, may be a luxury of civilization; but it was a more arduous task to transact the greatest affairs of a state springing suddenly into recognized existence and mainly dependent for its primary construction and practical working on the hand of one man.
Worse than all, he had to deal on the most dangerous and delicate topics of state with a prince who trembled at danger and was incapable of delicacy; to show respect for a character that was despicable, to lean on a royal word falser than water, to inhale almost daily the effluvia from a court compared to which the harem of Henry was a temple of vestals. The spectacle of the s…o…b..ring James among his Kars and Hays and Villiers’s and other minions is one at which history covers her eyes and is dumb; but the republican envoys, with instructions from a Barneveld, were obliged to face him daily, concealing their disgust, and bowing reverentially before him as one of the arbiters of their destinies and the Solomon of his epoch.
A special emba.s.sy was sent early in the year to England to convey the solemn thanks of the Republic to the King for his a.s.sistance in the truce negotiations, and to treat of the important matters then pressing on the attention of both powers. Contemporaneously was to be despatched the emba.s.sy for which Henry was waiting so impatiently at Paris.
Certainly the Advocate had enough with this and other, important business already mentioned to detain him at his post. Moreover the first year of peace had opened disastrously in the Netherlands. Tremendous tempests such as had rarely been recorded even in that land of storms had raged all the winter. The waters everywhere had burst their d.y.k.es and inundations, which threatened to engulph the whole country, and which had caused enormous loss of property and even of life, were alarming the most courageous. It was difficult in many district to collect the taxes for the every-day expenses of the community, and yet the Advocate knew that the Republic would soon be forced to renew the war on a prodigious scale.
Still more to embarra.s.s the action of the government and perplex its statesmen, an alarming and dangerous insurrection broke out in Utrecht.
In that ancient seat of the hard-fighting, imperious, and opulent sovereign archbishops of the ancient church an important portion of the population had remained Catholic. Another portion complained of the abolition of various privileges which they had formerly enjoyed; among others that of a monopoly of beer-brewing for the province. All the population, as is the case with all populations in all countries and all epochs, complained of excessive taxation.
A clever politician, Dirk Kanter by name, a gentleman by birth, a scholar and philosopher by pursuit and education, and a demagogue by profession, saw an opportunity of taking an advantage of this state of things. More than twenty years before he had been burgomaster of the city, and had much enjoyed himself in that position. He was tired of the learned leisure to which the ingrat.i.tude of his fellow-citizens had condemned him. He seems to have been of easy virtue in the matter of religion, a Catholic, an Arminian, an ultra orthodox Contra-Remonstrant by turns. He now persuaded a number of determined partisans that the time had come for securing a church for the public worship of the ancient faith, and at the same time for restoring the beer brewery, reducing the taxes, recovering lost privileges, and many other good things. Beneath the whole scheme lay a deep design to effect the secession of the city and with it of the opulent and important province of Utrecht from the Union. Kanter had been heard openly to avow that after all the Netherlands had flourished under the benign sway of the House of Burgundy, and that the time would soon come for returning to that enviable condition.
By a concerted a.s.sault the city hall was taken possession of by main force, the magistracy was overpowered, and a new board of senators and common council-men appointed, Kanter and a devoted friend of his, Heldingen by name, being elected burgomasters.