Chapter 12
and spurred furiously against the enemy.
[Sidenote: BATTLE OF GRAVELINES.]
The French, hard pressed both on front and on flank, fell back in their turn, and continued to retreat till they had gained their former position. At the same time, the _lanzknechts_ in Egmont's service, marched up, in defiance of the fire of the artillery, and got possession of the guns, running the men who had charge of them through with their lances.[237] The fight now became general; and, as the combatants were brought into close quarters, they fought as men fight where numbers are nearly balanced, and each one seems to feel that his own arm may turn the scale of victory. The result was brought about by an event which neither party could control, and neither have foreseen.
An English squadron of ten or twelve vessels lay at some distance, but out of sight of the combatants. Attracted by the noise of the firing, its commander drew near the scene of action, and, ranging along sh.o.r.e, opened his fire on the right wing of the French, nearest the sea.[238]
The shot, probably, from the distance of the s.h.i.+ps, did no great execution, and is even said to have killed some of the Spaniards. But it spread a panic among the French, as they found themselves a.s.sailed by a new enemy, who seemed to have risen from the depths of the ocean. In their eagerness to extricate themselves from the fire, the cavalry on the right threw themselves on the centre, trampling down their own comrades, until all discipline was lost, and horse and foot became mingled together in wild disorder. Egmont profited by the opportunity to renew his charge; and at length, completely broken and dispirited, the enemy gave way in all directions. The stout body of Gascons who formed the reserve alone held their ground for a time, until, vigorously charged by the phalanx of Spanish spearmen, they broke, and were scattered like the rest.
The rout was now general, and the victorious cavalry rode over the field, trampling and cutting down the fugitives on all sides. Many who did not fall under their swords perished in the waters of the Aa, now swollen by the rising tide. Others were drowned in the ocean. No less than fifteen hundred of those who escaped from the field are said to have been killed by the peasantry, who occupied the pa.s.ses, and thus took b.l.o.o.d.y revenge for the injuries inflicted on their country.[239]
Two thousand French are stated to have fallen on the field, and not more than five hundred Spaniards, or rather Flemings, who composed the bulk of the army. The loss fell most severely on the French cavalry; severely indeed, if, according to some accounts, not very credible, they were cut to pieces almost to a man.[240] The number of prisoners was three thousand. Among them was Marshal Termes himself, who had been disabled by a wound in the head. All the baggage, the ammunition, and the rich spoil gleaned by the foray into Flanders, became the prize of the victors.--Although not so important for the amount of forces engaged, the victory of Gravelines was as complete as that of St. Quentin.[241]
Yet the French, who had a powerful army on foot, were in better condition to meet their reverses than on that day. The duke of Guise, on receiving the tidings, instantly marched with his whole force, and posted himself strongly behind the Somme, in order to cover Picardy from invasion. The duke of Savoy, uniting his forces with those of Count Egmont, took up a position along the line of the Authie, and made demonstrations of laying siege to Dourlens. The French and Spanish monarchs both took the field. So well appointed and large a force as that led by Henry had not been seen in France for many a year; yet that monarch might justly be mortified by the reflection that the greater part of this force was made up of foreign mercenaries, amounting, it is said, to forty thousand. Philip was in equal strength, and the length of the war had enabled him to a.s.semble his best captains around him. Among them was Alva, whose cautious councils might serve to temper the bolder enterprise of the duke of Savoy.
A level ground, four leagues in breadth, lay between the armies.
Skirmishes took place occasionally between the light troops on either side, and a general engagement might be brought on at any moment. All eyes were turned to the battle-field, where the two greatest princes of Europe might so soon contend for mastery with each other. Had the fathers of these princes, Charles the Fifth and Francis the First, been in the field, such very probably would have been the issue. But Philip was not disposed to risk the certain advantages he had already gained by a final appeal to arms. And Henry was still less inclined to peril all--his capital, perhaps his crown--on the hazard of a single cast.
[Sidenote: NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE.]
There were many circ.u.mstances which tended to make both monarchs prefer a more peaceful arbitrament of their quarrel, and to disgust them with the war. Among these was the ruinous state of their finances.[242] When Ruy Gomez de Silva, as has been already stated, was sent to Spain by Philip, he was commanded to avail himself of every expedient that could be devised to raise money. Offices were put up for sale to the highest bidder. The public revenues were mortgaged. Large sums were obtained from merchants at exorbitant rates of interest. Forced loans were exacted from individuals, especially from such as were known to have received large returns by the late arrivals from the New World. Three hundred thousand ducats were raised on the security of the coming fair at Villalon. The Regent Joanna was persuaded to sell her yearly pension, a.s.signed her on the _alcavala_, for a downright sum to meet the exigencies of the state. Goods were obtained from the king of Portugal, in order to be sent to Flanders for the profit to be raised on the sale.[243] Such were the wretched devices by which Philip, who inherited this policy of temporizing expedients from his father, endeavored to replenish his exhausted treasury. Besides the sums drawn from Castile, the king obtained also no less than a million and a half of ducats, as an extraordinary grant from the states of the Netherlands.[244] Yet these sums, large as they were, were soon absorbed by the expense of keeping armies on foot in France and in Italy. Philip's correspondence with his ministers teems with representations of the low state of his finances, of the arrears due to his troops, and the necessity of immediate supplies to save him from bankruptcy. The prospects the ministers hold out to him in return are anything but encouraging.[245]
Another circ.u.mstance which made both princes desire the termination of the war was the disturbed state of their own kingdoms. The Protestant heresy had already begun to rear its formidable crest in the Netherlands; and the Huguenots were beginning to claim the notice of the French government. Henry the Second, who was penetrated, as much as Philip himself, with the spirit of the Inquisition, longed for leisure to crush the heretical doctrines in the bud. In this pious purpose he was encouraged by Paul the Fourth, who, now that he was himself restrained from levying war against his neighbors, seemed resolved that no one else should claim that indulgence. He sent legates to both Henry and Philip, conjuring them, instead of warring with each other, to turn their arms against the heretics in their dominions, who were sapping the foundations of the Church.[246]
The pacific disposition of the two monarchs was, moreover, fostered by the French prisoners, and especially by Montmorency, whose authority had been such at court, that Charles the Fifth declared "his capture was more important than would have been that of the king himself."[247] The old constable was most anxious to return to his own country, where he saw with uneasiness the ascendancy which his absence and the prolongation of the war were giving to his rival, Guise, in the royal counsels. Through him negotiations were opened with the French court, until, Henry the Second thinking, with good reason, that these negotiations would be better conducted by a regular congress than by prisoners in the custody of his enemies, commissioners were appointed on both sides, to arrange the terms of accommodation.[248] Montmorency and his fellow-captive, Marshal St. Andre, were included in the commission.
But the person of most importance in it, on the part of France, was the cardinal of Lorraine, brother of the duke of Guise, a man of a subtle, intriguing temper, and one who, like the rest of his family, notwithstanding his pacific demonstrations, may be said to have represented the war party in France[249]
On the part of Spain the agents selected were the men most conspicuous for talent and authority in the kingdom; the names of some of whom, whether for good or for evil report, remain immortal on the page of history. Among these were the duke of Alva and his great antagonist,--as he became afterwards in the Netherlands,--William of Orange. But the princ.i.p.al person in the commission, the man who in fact directed it, was Anthony Perrenot, bishop of Arras, better known by his later t.i.tle of Cardinal Granvelle. He was son of the celebrated chancellor of that name under Charles the Fifth, by whom he was early trained, not so much to the duties of the ecclesiastical profession as of public life. He profited so well by the instruction, that, in the emperor's time, he succeeded his father in the royal confidence, and surpa.s.sed him in his talent for affairs. His accommodating temper combined with his zeal for the interests of Philip to recommend Granvelle to the favor of that monarch; and his insinuating address and knowledge of character well qualified him for conducting a negotiation where there were so many jarring feelings to be brought into concord, so many hostile and perplexing interests to be reconciled.
As a suspension of hostilities was agreed on during the continuance of the negotiations, it was decided to remove the armies from the neighborhood of each other, where a single spark might at any time lead to a general explosion. A still stronger
The congress met on the fifteenth of October, 1558, at the abbey of Cercamps, near Cambray. Between parties so well disposed, it might be thought that some general terms of accommodation would soon be settled.
But the war, which ran back pretty far into Charles the Fifth's time, had continued so long, that many territories had changed masters during the contest, and it was not easy to adjust the respective claims to them. The duke of Savoy's dominions, for example, had pa.s.sed into the hands of Henry the Second, who, moreover, a.s.serted an hereditary right to them through his grandmother. Yet it was not possible for Philip to abandon his ally, the man whom he had placed at the head of his armies.
But the greatest obstacle was Calais. "If we return without the recovery of Calais," said the English envoys, who also took part in this congress, "we shall be stoned to death by the people."[250]
[Sidenote: MARY'S DEATH.]
Philip supported the claim of England; and yet it was evident that France would never relinquish a post so important to herself, which, after so many years of hope deferred, had at last come again into her possession. While engaged in the almost hopeless task of adjusting these differences, an event occurred which suspended the negotiations for a time, and exercised an important influence on the affairs of Europe.
This was the death of one of the parties to the war, Queen Mary of England.
Mary's health had been fast declining of late, under the pressure of both mental and bodily disease. The loss of Calais bore heavily on her spirits, as she thought of the reproach it would bring on her reign, and the increased unpopularity it would draw upon herself. "When I die," she said, in the strong language since made familiar to Englishmen by the similar expression of their great admiral, "Calais will be found written on my heart."[251]
Philip, who was not fully apprised of the queen's low condition, early in November sent the count, afterwards duke, of Feria as his envoy to London, with letters for Mary. This n.o.bleman, who had married one of the queen's maids of honor, stood high in the favor of his master. With courtly manners, and a magnificent way of living, he combined a shrewdness and solidity of judgment, that eminently fitted him for his present mission. The queen received with great joy the letters which he brought her, though too ill to read them. Feria, seeing the low state of Mary's health, was earnest with the council to secure the succession for Elizabeth.
He had the honor of supping with the princess at her residence in Hatfield, about eighteen miles from London. The Spaniard enlarged, in the course of conversation, on the good-will of his master to Elizabeth, as shown in the friendly offices he had rendered her during her imprisonment, and his desire to have her succeed to the crown. The envoy did not add that this desire was prompted not so much by the king's concern for the interests of Elizabeth as by his jealousy of the French, who seemed willing to countenance the pretensions of Mary Stuart, the wife of the dauphin, to the English throne.[252] The princess acknowledged the protection she had received from Philip in her troubles. "But for her present prospects," she said, "she was indebted neither to the king nor to the English lords, however much these latter might vaunt their fidelity. It was to the people that she owed them, and on the people she relied."[253] This answer of Elizabeth furnishes the key to her success.
The penetrating eye of the envoy soon perceived that the English princess was under evil influences. The persons most in her confidence, he wrote, were understood to have a decided leaning to the Lutheran heresy, and he augured most unfavorably for the future prospects of the kingdom.
On the seventeenth of November, 1558, after a brief, but most disastrous reign, Queen Mary died. Her fate had been a hard one. Unimpeachable in her private life, and, however misguided, with deeply-seated religious principles, she has yet left a name held in more general execration than any other on the roll of English sovereigns. One obvious way of accounting for this, doubtless, is by the spirit of persecution which hung like a dark cloud over her reign. And this not merely on account of the persecution; for that was common with the line of Tudor; but because it was directed against the professors of a religion which came to be the established religion of the country. Thus the blood of the martyr became the seed of a great and powerful church, ready through all after time to bear testimony to the ruthless violence of its oppressor.
There was still another cause of Mary's unpopularity. The daughter of Katharine of Aragon could not fail to be nurtured in a reverence for the ill.u.s.trious line from which she was descended. The education begun in the cradle was continued in later years. When the young princess was betrothed to her cousin, Charles the Fifth, it was stipulated that she should be made acquainted with the language and the inst.i.tutions of Castile, and should even wear the costume of the country. "And who,"
exclaimed Henry the Eighth, "is so well fitted to instruct her in all this as the queen, her mother?" Even after the match with her imperial suitor was broken off by his marriage with the Portuguese infanta, Charles still continued to take a lively interest in the fortunes of his young kinswoman; while she, in her turn, naturally looked to the emperor, as her nearest relative, for counsel and support. Thus drawn towards Spain by the ties of kindred, by sympathy, and by interest, Mary became in truth more of a Spanish than an English woman; and when all this was completed by the odious Spanish match, and she gave her hand to Philip the Second, the last tie seemed to be severed which had bound her to her native land. Thenceforth she remained an alien in the midst of her own subjects.--Very different was the fate of her sister and successor, Elizabeth, who ruled over her people like a true-hearted English queen, under no influence, and with no interests distinct from theirs. She was requited for it by the most loyal devotion on their part; while round her throne have gathered those patriotic recollections which, in spite of her many errors, still render her name dear to Englishmen.
On the death of her sister, Elizabeth, without opposition, ascended the throne of her ancestors. It may not be displeasing to the reader to see the portrait of her sketched by the Venetian minister at this period, or rather two years earlier, when she was twenty-three years of age. "The princess," he says, "is as beautiful in mind as she is in body; though her countenance is rather pleasing from its expression, than beautiful.[254] She is large and well-made; her complexion clear, and of an olive tint; her eyes are fine, and her hands, on which she prides herself, small and delicate. She has an excellent genius, with much address and self-command, as was abundantly shown in the severe trials to which she was exposed in the earlier part of her life. In her temper she is haughty and imperious, qualities inherited from her father, King Henry the Eighth, who, from her resemblance to himself, is said to have regarded her with peculiar fondness."[255]--He had, it must be owned, an uncommon way of showing it.
[Sidenote: ACCESSION OF ELIZABETH.]
One of the first acts of Elizabeth was to write an elegant Latin epistle to Philip, in which she acquainted him with her accession to the crown, and expressed the hope that they should continue to maintain "the same friendly relations as their ancestors had done, and, if possible, more friendly."
Philip received the tidings of his wife's death at Brussels, where her obsequies were celebrated, with great solemnity, on the same day with her funeral in London. All outward show of respect was paid to her memory. But it is doing no injustice to Philip to suppose that his heart was not very deeply touched by the loss of a wife so many years older than himself, whose temper had been soured, and whose personal attractions, such as they were, had long since faded under the pressure of disease. Still, it was not without feelings of deep regret that the ambitious monarch saw the sceptre of England--barren though it had proved to him--thus suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed from his grasp.
We have already seen that Philip, during his residence in the country, had occasion more than once to interpose his good offices in behalf of Elizabeth. It was perhaps the friendly relation in which he thus stood to her, quite as much as her personal qualities, that excited in the king a degree of interest which seems to have provoked something like jealousy in the bosom of his queen.[256] However this may be, motives of a very different character from those founded on sentiment now determined him to retain, if possible, his hold on England, by transferring to Elizabeth the connection which had subsisted with Mary.
A month had not elapsed since Mary's remains were laid in Westminster Abbey, when the royal widower made direct offers, through his amba.s.sador, Feria, for the hand of her successor. Yet his ardor did not precipitate him into any unqualified declaration of his pa.s.sion; on the contrary, his proposals were limited by some very prudent conditions.
It was to be understood that Elizabeth must be a Roman Catholic, and, if not one already, must repudiate her errors and become one. She was to obtain a dispensation from the pope for the marriage. Philip was to be allowed to visit Spain, whenever he deemed it necessary for the interests of that kingdom;--a provision which seems to show that Mary's over-fondness, or her jealousy, must have occasioned him some inconvenience on that score. It was further to be stipulated, that the issue of the marriage should not, as was agreed in the contract with Mary, inherit the Netherlands, which were to pa.s.s to his son Don Carlos, the prince of Asturias.
Feria was directed to make these proposals by word of mouth, not in writing, "although," adds his considerate master, "it is no disgrace for a man to have his proposals rejected, when they are founded, not on worldly considerations, but on zeal for his Maker and the interests of religion."
Elizabeth received the offer of Philip's hand, qualified as it was, in the most gracious manner. She told the amba.s.sador, indeed, that, "in a matter of this kind, she could take no step without consulting her parliament. But his master might rest a.s.sured, that, should she be induced to marry, there was no man she should prefer to him."[257]
Philip seems to have been contented with the encouragement thus given, and shortly after he addressed Elizabeth a letter, written with his own hand, in which he endeavored to impress on her how much he had at heart the successes of his amba.s.sador's mission.
The course of events in England, however, soon showed that such success was not to be relied on, and that Feria's prognostics in regard to the policy of Elizabeth were well founded. Parliament soon entered on the measures which ended in the subversion of the Roman Catholic, and the restoration of the Reformed religion. And it was very evident that these measures, if not originally dictated by the queen, must at least have received her sanction.
Philip, in consequence, took counsel with two of his ministers, on whom he most relied, as to the expediency of addressing Elizabeth on the subject, and telling her plainly, that, unless she openly disavowed the proceedings of parliament, the marriage could not take place.[258] Her vanity should be soothed by the expressions of his regret at being obliged to relinquish the hopes of her hand. But, as her lover modestly remarked, after this candid statement of all the consequences before her, whatever the result might be, she would have no one to blame but herself.[259] His sage advisers, probably not often called to deliberate on questions of this delicate nature, entirely concurred in opinion with their master. In any event, they regarded it as impossible that he should wed a Protestant.
What effect this frank remonstrance had on the queen we are not told.
Certain it is, Philip's suit no longer sped so favorably as before.
Elizabeth, throwing off all disguise, plainly told Feria, when pressed on the matter, that she felt great scruples as to seeking a dispensation from the pope;[260] and soon after she openly declared in parliament, what she was in the habit of repeating so often, that she had no other purpose but to live and die a maid.[261]--It can hardly be supposed that Elizabeth entertained serious thoughts, at any time, of marrying Philip.
If she encouraged his addresses, it was only until she felt herself so securely seated on the throne, that she was independent of the ill-will she would incur by their rejection. It was a game in which the heart, probably, formed no part of the stake on either side. In this game, it must be confessed, the English queen showed herself the better player of the two.
[Sidenote: TREATY OF CATEAU-CAMBRESIS.]
Philip bore his disappointment with great equanimity. He expressed his regret to Elizabeth that she should have decided in a way so contrary to what the public interests seemed to demand. But since it appeared to her otherwise, he should acquiesce, and only hoped that the same end might be attained by the continuance of their friends.h.i.+p.[262] With all this philosophy, we may well believe that, with a character like that of Philip, some bitterness must have remained in the heart; and that, very probably, feelings of a personal nature mingled with those of a political in the long hostilities which he afterwards carried on with the English queen.
In the month of February, the conferences for the treaty of peace had been resumed, and the place of meeting changed from the abbey of Cercamps to Cateau-Cambresis. The negotiations were urged forward with greater earnestness than before, as both the monarchs were more sorely pressed by their necessities. Philip, in particular, was so largely in arrears to his army, that he frankly told his ministers "he was on the brink of ruin, from which nothing but a peace could save him."[263] It might be supposed that, in this state of things, he would be placed in a disadvantageous att.i.tude for arranging terms with his adversary. But Philip and his ministers put the best face possible on their affairs, affecting a confidence in their resources, before their allies as well as their enemies, which they were far from feeling; like some half-famished garrison, which makes a brave show of its scanty stock of supplies, in order to win better terms from the besiegers.[264]
All the difficulties were at length cleared away, except the vexed question of Calais. The English queen, it was currently said in the camp, would cut off the head of any minister who abandoned it. Mary, the young queen of Scots, had just been married to the French dauphin, afterwards Francis the Second. It was proposed that the eldest daughter born of this union should be united to the eldest son of Elizabeth, and bring with her Calais as a dowry. In this way, the place would be restored to England without dishonor to France.[265] Such were the wild expedients to which the parties resorted in the hope of extricating themselves from their embarra.s.sment!
At length, seeing the absolute necessity of bringing the matter to an issue, Philip ordered the Spanish plenipotentiaries to write his final instructions to Feria, his minister in London. The envoy was authorized to say, that, although England had lost Calais through her own negligence, yet Philip would stand faithfully by her for the recovery of it. But, on the other hand, she must be prepared to support him with her whole strength by land and by sea, and that not for a single campaign, but for the war so long as it lasted. The government should ponder well whether the prize would be worth the cost. Feria must bring the matter home to the queen, and lead her, if possible, to the desired conclusion; but so that she might appear to come to it by her own suggestion rather than by his. The responsibility must be left with her.[266] The letter of the plenipotentiaries, which is a very long one, is a model in its way, and shows that, in some particulars, the science of diplomacy has gained little since the sixteenth century.
Elizabeth needed no argument to make her weary of a war which hung like a dark cloud on the morning of her reign. Her disquietude had been increased by the fact of Scotland having become a party to the war; and hostilities, with little credit to that country, had broken out along the borders. Her own kingdom was in no condition to allow her to make the extraordinary efforts demanded by Philip. Yet it was plain if she did not make them, or consent to come into the treaty, she must be left to carry on the war by herself. Under these circ.u.mstances, the English government at last consented to an arrangement, which, if it did not save Calais, so far saved appearances that it might satisfy the nation.
It was agreed that Calais should be restored at the end of eight years.
If France failed to do this, she was to pay five hundred thousand crowns to England, whose claims to Calais would not, however, be affected by such a payment. Should either of the parties, or their subjects, during that period, do anything in contravention of this treaty, or in violation of the peace between the two countries, the offending party should forfeit all claim to the disputed territory.[267] It was not very probable that eight years would elapse without affording some plausible pretext to France, under such a provision, for keeping her hold on Calais.
The treaty with England was signed on the second of April, 1559. On the day following was signed that between France and Spain. By the provisions of this treaty, the allies of Philip, Savoy, Mantua, Genoa, were reinstated in the possession of the territories of which they had been stripped in the first years of the war. Four or five places of importance in Savoy were alone reserved, to be held as guaranties by the French king, until his claim to the inheritance of that kingdom was determined.
The conquests made by Philip in Picardy were to be exchanged for those gained by the French in Italy and the Netherlands. The exchange was greatly for the benefit of Philip. In the time of Charles the Fifth, the Spanish arms had experienced some severe reverses, and the king now received more than two hundred towns in return for the five places he held in Picardy.[268]
[Sidenote: TREATY OF CATEAU-CAMBRESIS.]