It was not till after much delay that the other nobles, with the regent, prevailed on Bergen and Montigny to accept the trust, by urging on them its absolute importance for assuring the tranquillity of the country. Even then, an injury which confined the marquis some weeks to his house furnished him with a plausible excuse for not performing his engagement, of which he would gladly have availed himself. But his scruples again vanished before the arguments and entreaties of his friends; and he consented to follow, as he could not accompany, Montigny.
The latter reached Madrid towards the middle of June, 1566, was graciously received by the king, and was admitted to repeated audiences, at which he did not fail to urge the remedial measures countenanced by Margaret. Philip appeared to listen with complacency; but declined giving an answer till the arrival of the other ambassador, who, having already set out on his journey, was attacked, on his way through France, by a fever. There Bergen halted, and again thought of abandoning the expedition. His good genius seemed ever willing to interpose to save him. But his evil genius, in the shape of Philip, who wrote to him, in the most condescending terms, to hasten his journey, beckoned him to Madrid.[1221]
Besides the two envoys there was another person of consequence from the Low Countries at that time in the capital,—Simon Renard, once Charles's minister at the English court, the inexorable foe of Granvelle. He had been persuaded by Philip to come to Spain, although to do so, he knew, was to put himself on trial for his manifold offences against the government. He was arrested; proceedings were commenced against him; and he was released only by an illness which terminated in his death. There seems to have been a mysterious fascination possessed by Philip, that he could thus draw within his reach the very men whom every motive of self-preservation should have kept at an immeasurable distance.
The arrival of the marquis did not expedite the business of the mission. Unfortunately, about that period news came to Madrid of the outbreak of the iconoclasts, exciting not merely in Spain, but throughout Christendom, feelings of horror and indignation. There was no longer a question as to a more temperate policy. The only thought now was of vengeance. It was in vain that the Flemish envoys interposed to mitigate the king's anger, and turn him[{380}] from those violent measures which must bring ruin on the country. Their remonstrances were unheeded. They found access to his person by no means so easy a thing as before. They felt that somewhat of the odium of the late transactions attached to them. Even the courtiers, with the ready instinct that detects a sovereign's frown, grew cold in their deportment. The situation of the envoys became every day more uncomfortable. Their mission was obviously at an end, and all they now asked was leave to return to the Netherlands.
But the king had no mind to grant it. He had been long since advised by Granvelle, and others in whom he trusted, that both the nobles had taken a decided part in fostering the troubles of the country.[1222] To that country they were never to return. Philip told them he had need of their presence for some time longer, to advise with him on the critical state of affairs in Flanders. So thin a veil could not impose on them, and they were idled with the most serious apprehensions. They wrote to Margaret, begging her to request the king to dismiss them; otherwise they should have good cause to complain both of her and of the nobles, who had sent them on a mission from which they would gladly have been excused.[1223] But Margaret had already written to her brother to keep them in Spain until the troubles in Flanders should be ended.[1224] On the reception of the letter of her envoys, however, she replied that she had already written to the king to request leave for them to return.[1225] I have found no record of such a letter.
In the spring of 1567, the duke of Alva was sent to take command of the Netherlands. Such an appointment, at such a crisis, plainly intimated the course to be pursued, and the host of evils it would soon bring on the devoted country. The conviction of this was too much for Bergen, heightened as his distress was by his separation, at such a moment, from all that was most dear to him on earth. He fell ill of a fever, and grew rapidly worse, till at length, it was reported to Philip that there was no chance for his recovery unless he were allowed to return to his native land.[1226]
DEATH OF BERGEN.
This placed the king in a perplexing dilemma. He was not disposed to let the marquis escape from his hands even by the way of a natural death. He was still less inclined to assent to his return to Flanders. In this emergency he directed Ruy Gomez, the prince of Eboli, to visit the sick nobleman, who was his personal friend. In case Gomez found the marquis so ill that his recovery was next to impossible, he was to give him the king's permission to return home. If, however, there seemed a prospect of his recovery, he was only to hold out the hope of such a permission.[1227] In case of the sick man's[{381}] death, Gomez was to take care to have his obsequies performed in such a manner as to show the sorrow of the king and his ministers at his loss, and their respect for the lords of the Low Countries![1228] He was, moreover, in that event, to take means to have the marquis's property in the Netherlands sequestered, as, should rebellion be proved against him, it would be forfeited to the crown.—This curious, and, as it must be allowed, highly confidential epistle, was written with the king's own hand. The address ran, "Ruy Gomez—to his hands. Not to be opened nor read in the presence of the bearer."
Which part of the royal instruction the minister thought best to follow for the cure of the patient,—whether he gave him an unconditional permission to return, or only held out the hope that he would do so,—we are not informed. It matters little, however. The marquis, it is probable, had already learned not to put his trust in princes. At all events, the promises of the king did as little for the patient as the prescriptions of the doctor. On the twenty-first of May he died,—justifying the melancholy presentiment with which he had entered on his mission.
Montigny was the only victim that now remained to Philip; and he caused him to be guarded with redoubled vigilance. He directed Ruy Gomez to keep an eye on all his movements, and to write to the governors of Navarre, Catalonia, and other frontier places, to take precautions to intercept the Flemish lord, in case of his attempting to fly the country.[1229] Montigny was in fact a prisoner, with Madrid for the limits of his prison. Yet, after this, the regent could write to him from Brussels, that she was pleased to learn from her brother that he was soon to give him his congé.[1230]—If the king said this, he had a bitter meaning in his words, beyond what the duchess apprehended.