Shortly after his note to Granvelle, on the nineteenth of February, Philip[{221}] wrote an answer to the lords in all the tone of offended majesty. He expressed his astonishment that they should have been led, by any motive whatever, to vacate their seats at the council, where he had placed them.[589] They would not fail to return there at once, and show that they preferred the public weal to all private considerations.[590] As for the removal of the minister, since they had not been pleased to specify any charges against him, the king would deliberate further before deciding on the matter. Thus, three weeks after Philip had given the cardinal his dismissal, did he write to his enemies as if the matter were still in abeyance; hoping, it would seem, by the haughty tone of authority, to rebuke the spirit of the refractory nobles, and intimidate them into a compliance with his commands. Should this policy succeed, the cardinal might still hold the helm of government.[591]
But Philip had not yet learned that he was dealing with men who had little of that spirit of subserviency to which he was accustomed in his Castilian vassals. The peremptory tone of his letter fired the blood of the Flemish lords, who at once waited on the regent, and announced their purpose not to reënter the council. The affair was not likely to end here; and Margaret saw with alarm the commotion that would be raised when the letter of the king should be laid before the whole body of the nobles.[592] Fearing some rash step, difficult to be retrieved, she resolved either that the cardinal should announce his intended departure, or that she would do so for him. Philip's experiment had failed. Nothing, therefore, remained but for the minister publicly to declare, that, as his brother, the late envoy to France, had returned to Brussels, he had obtained permission from the regent to accompany him on a visit to their aged mother, whom Granvelle had not seen for fourteen years.[593][{222}]
The news of the minister's resignation and speedy departure spread like wildfire over the country. The joy was universal; and the wits of the time redoubled their activity, assailing the fallen minister with libels, lampoons, and caricatures, without end. One of these caricatures, thrust into his own hand under the pretence of its being a petition, represented him as hatching a brood of young bishops, who were crawling out of their shells. Hovering above might be seen the figure of the Devil; while these words were profanely made to issue from his month: "This is my son; hear ye him!"[594]
It was at this time that, at a banquet at which many of the Flemish nobles were present, the talk fell on the expensive habits of the aristocracy, especially as shown in the number and dress of their domestics. It was the custom for them to wear showy and very costly liveries, intimating by the colors the family to which they belonged. Granvelle had set an example of this kind of ostentation. It was proposed to regulate their apparel by a more modest and uniform standard. The lot fell on Egmont to devise some suitable livery, of the simple kind used by the Germans. He proposed a dark-gray habit, which, instead of the aiguillettes commonly suspended from the shoulders, should have flat pieces of cloth, embroidered with the figure of a head and a fool's cap. The head was made marvellously like that of the cardinal, and the cap, being red, was thought to bear much resemblance to a cardinal's hat. This was enough. The dress was received with acclamation. The nobles instantly clad their retainers in the new livery, which had the advantage of greater economy. It became the badge of party. The tailors of Brussels could not find time to supply their customers. Instead of being confined to Granvelle, the heads occasionally bore the features of Arschot, Aremberg, or Viglius, the cardinal's friends. The duchess at first laughed at the jest, and even sent some specimens of the embroidery to Philip. But Granvelle looked more gravely on the matter, declaring it an insult to the government, and the king interfered to have the device given up. This was not easy, from the extent to which it had been adopted. But Margaret at length succeeded in persuading the lords to take another, not personal in its nature. The substitute was a sheaf of arrows. Even this was found to have an offensive application, as it intimated the league of the nobles. It was the origin, it is said, of the device afterwards assumed by the Seven United Provinces.[595]
HE LEAVES THE NETHERLANDS.
On the thirteenth of March, 1564, Granvelle quitted Brussels,—never to return.[596] "The joy of the nobles at his departure," writes one of the privy[{223}] council, "was excessive. They seemed like boys let loose from school."[597] The three lords, members of the council of state, in a note to the duchess, declared that they were ready to resume their places at the board; with the understanding, however, that they should retire whenever the minister returned.[598] Granvelle had given out that his absence would be of no long duration. The regent wrote to her brother in warm commendation of the lords. It would not do for Granvelle ever to return. She was assured by the nobles, if he did return, he would risk the loss of his life, and the king the loss of the Netherlands.[599]
The three lords wrote each to Philip, informing him that they had reëntered the council, and making the most earnest protestations of loyalty. Philip, on his part, graciously replied to each, and in particular to the prince of Orange, who had intimated that slanderous reports respecting himself had found their way to the royal ear. The king declared "he never could doubt for a moment that William would continue to show the same zeal in his service that he had always done; and that no one should be allowed to cast a reproach on a person of his quality, and one whom Philip knew so thoroughly."[600] It might almost seem that a double meaning lurked under this smooth language. But whatever may have been felt, no distrust was exhibited on either side. To those who looked on the surface only,—and they were a hundred to one,—it seemed as if the dismissal of the cardinal had removed all difficulties; and they now confidently relied on a state of permanent tranquillity. But there were others whose eyes looked deeper than the calm sunshine that lay upon the surface; who saw, more distinctly than when the waters were ruffled by the tempest, the rocks beneath, on which the vessel of state was afterward to be wrecked.
The cardinal, on leaving the Low Countries, retired to his patrimonial estate at Besançon,—embellished with all that wealth and a cultivated taste could supply. In this pleasant retreat the discomfited statesman found a solace in those pursuits which in earlier, perhaps happier, days had engaged his attention.[601] He had particularly a turn for the physical sciences. But he was fond of letters, and in all his tastes showed the fruits of a liberal culture. He surrounded himself with scholars and artists, and took a lively[{224}] interest in their pursuits. Justus Lipsius, afterwards so celebrated, was his secretary. He gave encouragement to Plantin, who rivalled in Flanders the fame of the Aldi in Venice. His generous patronage was readily extended to genius, in whatever form it was displayed. It is some proof how widely extended, that, in the course of his life, he is said to have received more than a hundred dedications. Though greedy of wealth, it was not to hoard it, and his large revenues were liberally dispensed in the foundation of museums, colleges, and public libraries. Besançon, the place of his residence, did not profit least by this munificence.[602]
Such is the portrait which historians have given to us of the minister in his retirement. His own letters show that, with these sources of enjoyment, he did not altogether disdain others of a less spiritual character. A letter to one of the regent's secretaries, written soon after the cardinal's arrival at Besançon, concludes in the following manner: "I know that God will recompense men according to their deserts. I have confidence that he will aid me; and that I shall yet be able to draw profit from what my enemies designed for my ruin. This is my philosophy, with which I endeavor to live as joyously as I can, laughing at the world, its calumnies and its passions."[603]
With all this happy mixture of the Epicurean and the Stoic, the philosophic statesman did not so contentedly submit to his fate as to forego the hope of seeing himself soon reinstated in authority in the Netherlands. "In the course of two months," he writes, "you may expect to see me there."[604] He kept up an active correspondence with the friends whom he had left in Brussels, and furnished the results of the information thus obtained, with his own commentaries, to the court at Madrid. His counsel was courted, and greatly considered, by Philip; so that from the shades of his retirement the banished minister was still thought to exercise an important influence on the destiny of Flanders.