History of the Reign of Philip the Second, King of Spain, Vols. 1 and 2

by William Hickling Prescott

The finances naturally felt the effects of the general disorder of the country. The public debt, already large, as we have seen, was now so much increased, that the yearly deficiency in the revenue, according to the regent's own statement, amounted to six hundred thousand florins;[629] and she knew of no way of extricating the country from its embarrassments, unless the king should come to its assistance. The convocation of the states-general was insisted on as the only remedy for these disorders. That body alone, it was contended, was authorized to vote the requisite subsidies, and to redress the manifold grievances of the nation.—Yet, in point of fact, its powers had hitherto been little more than to propose the subsidies for the approbation of the several[{233}] provinces, and to remonstrate on the grievances of the nation. To invest the states-general with the power of redressing these grievances would bestow on them legislative functions which they had rarely, if ever, exercised. This would be to change the constitution of the country, by the new weight it would give to the popular element; a change which the great lords, who had already the lesser nobles entirely at their disposal,[630] would probably know well how to turn to account.[631] Yet Margaret had now so entirely resigned herself to their influence, that, notwithstanding the obvious consequences of these measures, she recommended to Philip both to assemble the states-general and to remodel the council of state;[632]—and this to a monarch more jealous of his authority than any other prince in Europe!

To add to the existing troubles, orders were received from the court of Madrid to publish the decrees of the Council of Trent throughout the Netherlands. That celebrated council had terminated its long session in 1563, with the results that might have been expected,—those of widening the breach between Protestant and Catholic, and of enlarging, or at least more firmly establishing, the authority of the pope. One good result may be mentioned, that of providing for a more strict supervision of the morals and discipline of the clergy;—a circumstance which caused the decrees to be in extremely bad odor with that body.

It was hoped that Philip would imitate the example of France, and reject decrees which thus exalted the power of the pope. Men were led to expect this the more, from the mortification which the king had lately experienced from a decision of the pontiff on a question of precedence between the Castilian and French ambassadors at his court. This delicate matter, long pending, had been finally determined in favor of France by Pius the Fifth, who may have thought it more politic to secure a fickle ally than to reward a firm one. The decision touched Philip to the quick. He at once withdrew his ambassador from Rome, and refused to receive an envoy from his holiness.[633] It seemed that a serious rupture was likely to take place between the parties. But it was not in the nature of Philip to be long at feud with the court of Rome. In a letter to the duchess of Parma, dated August 6, 1564, he plainly intimated that in matters of faith he was willing at all times to sacrifice his private feelings to the public weal.[634] He subsequently commanded the decrees of the Council of Trent to be received as law throughout his dominions, saying that he could make no exception for the Netherlands, when he made none for Spain.[635][{234}]

The promulgation of the decrees was received, as had been anticipated, with general discontent. The clergy complained of the interference with their immunities. The men of Brabant stood stoutly on the chartered rights secured to them by the "Joyeuse Entrée". And the people generally resisted the decrees, from a vague idea of their connection with the Inquisition; while, as usual when mischief was on foot, they loudly declaimed against Granvelle as being at the bottom of it.

In this unhappy condition of affairs, it was determined by the council of state to send some one to Madrid to lay the grievances of the nation before the king, and to submit to him what in their opinion would be the most effectual remedy. They were the more induced to this by the unsatisfactory nature of the royal correspondence. Philip, to the great discontent of the lords, had scarcely condescended to notice their letters.[636] Even to Margaret's ample communications he rarely responded, and when he did, it was in vague and general terms, conveying little more than the necessity of executing justice and watching over the purity of the Faith.

The person selected for the unenviable mission to Madrid was Egmont, whose sentiments of loyalty, and of devotion to the Catholic faith, it was thought, would recommend him to the king; while his brilliant reputation, his rank, and his popular manners would find favor with the court and the people. Egmont himself was the less averse to the mission, that he had some private suits of his own to urge with the monarch.

This nomination was warmly supported by William, between whom and the count a perfectly good understanding seems to have subsisted, in spite of the efforts of the Cardinalists to revive their ancient feelings of jealousy. Yet these feelings still glowed in the bosoms of the wives of the two nobles, as was evident from the warmth with which they disputed the question of precedence with each other. Both were of the highest rank, and, as there was no umpire to settle the delicate question, it was finally arranged by the two ladies appearing in public always arm in arm,—an equality which the haughty dames were careful to maintain, in spite of the ridiculous embarrassments to which they were occasionally exposed by narrow passages and doorways.[637] If the question of precedence had related to character, it would have been easily settled. The troubles from the misconduct of Anne of Saxony bore as heavily on the prince, her husband, at this very time, as the troubles of the state.[638][{235}]

EGMONT SENT TO SPAIN.

Before Egmont's departure, a meeting of the council of state was called, to furnish him with the proper instructions. The president, Viglius, gave it as his opinion, that the mission was superfluous; and that the great nobles had only to reform their own way of living to bring about the necessary reforms in the country. Egmont was instructed by the regent to represent to the king the deplorable condition of the land, the prostration of public credit, the decay of religion, and the symptoms of discontent and disloyalty in the people. As the most effectual remedy for these evils, he was to urge the king to come in person, and that speedily, to Flanders. "If his majesty does not approve of this," said Margaret, "impress upon him the necessity of making further remittances, and of giving me precise instructions as to the course I am to pursue."[639]

The prince of Orange took part in the discussion with a warmth he had rarely shown. It was time, he said, that the king should be disabused of the errors under which he labored with respect to the Netherlands. The edicts must be mitigated. It was not possible, in the present state of feeling, either to execute the edicts or to maintain the Inquisition.[640] The Council of Trent was almost equally odious; nor could they enforce its decrees in the Netherlands while the countries on the borders rejected them. The people would no longer endure the perversion of justice, and the miserable wrangling of the councils.—This last blow was aimed at the president.—The only remedy was to enlarge the council of state, and to strengthen its authority. For his own part, he concluded, he could not understand how any prince could claim the right of interfering with the consciences of his subjects in matters of religion.[641]—The impassioned tone of his eloquence, so contrary to the usually calm manner of William the Silent, and the boldness with which he avowed his opinions, caused a great sensation in the assembly.[642] That night was passed by Viglius, who gives his own account of the matter, in tossing on his bed, painfully ruminating on his forlorn position in the council, with scarcely one to support him in the contest which he was compelled to wage, not merely with the nobles, but with the regent herself. The next morning, while dressing, he was attacked by a fit of apoplexy, which partially deprived him of the use of both his speech and his limbs.[643] It was some time[{236}] before he could resume his place at the board. This new misfortune furnished him with a substantial argument for soliciting the king's permission to retire from office. In this he was warmly seconded by Margaret, who, while she urged the president's incapacity, nothing touched by his situation, eagerly pressed her brother to call him to account for his delinquencies, and especially his embezzlement of the church property.[644]