The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1576-77 | Page 7

conquests for his own benefit, impossible crowns for his own wearing,
were the motives which impelled, him, and the prizes which he sought.
His existence was feverish, fitful, and passionate. "Tranquil amid the
raging billows," according to his favorite device, the father of his
country waved aside the diadem which for him had neither charms nor
meaning. Their characters were as contrasted as their persons. The
curled-darling of chivalry seemed a youth at thirty-one. Spare of figure,
plain in apparel, benignant, but haggard of countenance, with temples

bared by anxiety as much as by his helmet, earnest, almost devout in
manner, in his own words, "Calvus et Calvinists," William of Orange
was an old man at forty-three.
Perhaps there was as much good faith on the part of Don John, when he
arrived in Luxemburg, as could be expected of a man coming directly
from the cabinet of Philip. The King had secretly instructed him to
conciliate the provinces, but to concede nothing, for the Governor was
only a new incarnation of the insane paradox that benignity and the
system of Charles the Fifth were one. He was directed to restore the
government, to its state during the imperial epoch. Seventeen provinces,
in two of which the population were all dissenters, in all of which the
principle of mutual toleration had just been accepted by Catholics and
Protestants, were now to be brought back to the condition according to
which all Protestants were beheaded, burned, or buried alive. So that
the Inquisition, the absolute authority of the monarch, and the exclusive
worship of the Roman Church were preserved intact, the King
professed himself desirous of "extinguishing the fires of rebellion, and
of saving the people from the last desperation." With these slight
exceptions, Philip was willing to be very benignant. "More than this,"
said he, "cannot and ought not be conceded." To these brief but
pregnant instructions was added a morsel of advice, personal in its
nature, but very characteristic of the writer. Don John was
recommended to take great care of his soul, and also to be very
cautious in the management of his amours.
Thus counselled and secretly directed, the new Captain-General had
been dismissed to the unhappy Netherlands. The position, however,
was necessarily false. The man who was renowned for martial exploits,
and notoriously devoured by ambition, could hardly inspire deep
confidence in the pacific dispositions of the government. The crusader
of Granada and Lepanto, the champion of the ancient Church, was not
likely to please the rugged Zealanders who had let themselves be
hacked to pieces rather than say one Paternoster, and who had worn
crescents in their caps at Leyden, to prove their deeper hostility to the
Pope than to the Turk. The imperial bastard would derive but alight
consideration from his paternal blood, in a country where illegitimate
birth was more unfavorably regarded than in most other countries, and
where a Brabantine edict, recently issued in name of the King; deprived

ail political or civil functionaries not born in wedlock; of their offices.
Yet he had received instructions, at his departure, to bring about a
pacification, if possible, always maintaining, however, the absolute
authority of the crown and the exclusive exercise of the Catholic
religion. How the two great points of his instructions were to be made
entirely palatable, was left to time and chance. There was a vague
notion that with the new Governor's fame, fascinating manners, and
imperial parentage, he might accomplish a result which neither fraud
nor force--not the arts of Granvelle, nor the atrocity of Alva, nor the
licentiousness of a buccaneering soldiery had been able to effect. As for
Don John himself, he came with no definite plans for the Netherlanders,
but with very daring projects of his own, and to pursue these misty
visions was his main business on arriving in the provinces. In the
meantime he was disposed to settle the Netherland difficulty in some
showy, off-hand fashion, which should cost him but little trouble, and
occasion no detriment to the cause of Papacy or absolutism.
Unfortunately for these rapid arrangements, William of Orange was in
Zealand, and the Pacification had just been signed at Ghent.
It was, naturally, with very little satisfaction that the Prince beheld the
arrival of Don John. His sagacious combinations would henceforth be
impeded, if not wholly frustrated. This he foresaw. He knew that there
could be no intention of making any arrangement in which Holland and
Zealand could be included. He was confident that any recognition of
the Reformed religion was as much out of the question now as ever. He
doubted not that there were many Catholic magnates, wavering
politicians, aspirants for royal favor, who would soon be ready to desert
the cause which had so recently been made a general cause,