Philip and Mayenne—The English attack upon Lisbon—Assassination of Henry III.—Philip’s plans in France—The war of the League—The battle of Ivry—Philip’s attitude towards Mayenne—Farnese enters France—Relief of Paris—Retirement of Farnese—Philip changes his plans in France—Farnese’s second campaign—Henry IV. goes to mass—Enters Paris as king—Exit of the Spaniards.
HENRY III. thought by one stroke to rid himself of his enemies by killing Guise, and terrorising his party. “At last,” he said to his mother, immediately after the execution, “at last I am King of France.” “You have plunged your country into ruin,” replied Catharine. “You have boldly cut out the cloth, but do not know how to sew the garment together.” She spoke truly, for she knew her son. When the news reached Paris a great gust of rage passed over the city. It was Christmas Day, but all rejoicing turned to sorrow, and dirges took the place of Te Deums. From the pulpits thundered denunciations of the royal murderer, and by the middle of January (1589) the Sorbonne, under the promptings of the Spanish party, had declared that the subjects of Henry III. were released from their allegiance. A council of government was formed, with Mayenne, Guise’s brother, as president and lieutenant-general of the realm. All through France the example of Paris was followed, and the League was soon the great governing power of the country, Henry finding himself little more than King of Blois. He was therefore obliged to draw closer to Henry of Navarre; and at first Philip feared that this coalition would unite all Frenchmen against him, now that the popular Guise had fallen. But Mayenne had no one else to lean upon, and in the first letter after his brother’s death told the Spanish king that the whole of the Catholics of France threw themselves at his feet. Henceforward the springs that moved the puppets in Catholic France obtained their impulsion from Madrid. Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador, although he had kept a few miles from the king’s court at Blois, had since the murder of Guise become more and more incensed with him, as he drifted nearer to the Huguenot cause, and now fled from the king’s court without a word of farewell to Paris, in the pretended fear that Henry intended to have him poisoned. Henceforward the old soldier, the last disciple of Alba, as he called himself, was tireless in organising and stimulating the resistance of the people of Paris against the king and the Huguenots. He was old and blind, but he went from outpost to outpost animating the soldiers; he laboured day and night with the nuncio, Gaetano, in stiffening Mayenne, and until his last ducat was spent and he had no food or firing for himself, he sheltered and fed the starving and homeless Leaguers. Through all the weary sieges of Paris, until broken and blind at last he went to end his days in despair as a monk, Mendoza continued to urge Philip to action against the Huguenots, to resist the insults offered to himself, to harry France with fire and sword in the name of the faith—the counsels, indeed, of the old Alba school to which he belonged. Philip, as usual, was cool and irresponsive. He told his minister—when he condescended to write to him at all, which was very rarely—that he must be patient and prudent, and must seek to be friendly with all parties. Philip, indeed, was far from pleased at the drift of affairs in France. It was evident thus early that Mayenne was a weak reed upon whom to depend, and now that Protestantism and legitimate royalty in France were united, he (Philip) did not believe in the permanency of the League. All his life he had been manoeuvring against France becoming officially Protestant, which would have foreboded the dreaded coalition of France, England, Holland, and the northern powers against him. His treasury, moreover, was drained almost to its last ducat by the catastrophe of the Armada, and terrifying rumours were reaching him from his spies in England of a great fleet of revenge being fitted out by Drake to invade his own shores, in conjunction with an attack across the Pyrenees by the forces of Henry of Navarre. Drake and Norris, however, with their joint-stock fleet in the interests of Don Antonio, turned out to be less formidable opponents on this occasion than had been feared. Philip was dangerously ill, and sick at heart. The Portuguese populace was almost entirely in favour of the native pretender, and was pledged to rise when he appeared. There were no adequate forces in Spain to resist an attack, and if the English expedition had not been entirely mismanaged from the first, there is but little doubt that Philip’s rule in Portugal might easily have been ended. Want of money, shortness of provisions, and utter indiscipline of the men on the English fleet, contributed the germs of failure to the enterprise, and the waste of ten days in burning and sacking the lower town at Corunna, where the sickness and laxity caused by the drunkenness of the men practically disabled the English force, gave the stout-hearted Archduke Albert in Lisbon time to organise the defence and dominate the Portuguese by terror. In the meanwhile, too, Philip’s council in Madrid conquered their first paralysis of dismay, and took such hasty measures as were possible to repel the invasion. The fatal insistence also of Norris and Don Antonio to leave Drake and his fleet at Peniche whilst they marched overland to besiege Lisbon, placed the crown of disaster on the attempt. For Antonio had overrated his support. Only priests and a few peasants joined his standard. Lisbon was completely dominated by the archduke, and no Portuguese dared to raise a head, for fear of losing it. So when Norris and his 12,000 Englishmen appeared outside Lisbon (May 21, 1589), without siege-train or battering guns, they found the gates fast closed against them, and after a week of fruitless bloodshed they had sadly to retrace their steps again and join Drake’s fleet at the mouth of the river. Of 18,000 men that sailed out of Plymouth only about 6000 ever returned, and Don Antonio’s chance of reigning again in Portugal had gone for ever.
In August 1589 Mendoza wrote from Paris in jubilant strains. The king (Henry III.) had been besieging the capital with 40,000 men, and it could have held out no longer. Mayenne had lost heart, the much-prayed-for Spanish troops to help them came not. Despair reigned in the League, when suddenly the last of the Valois, Henry III., in his turn, fell under the dagger of the fanatic monk Jacques Clement. “It was the hand of God,” said Mendoza, “that has done this for His greater glory, and for the advantage of His religion.” Philip, however, never loved the idea of the killing of kings, and was not so enthusiastic about this as was his ambassador. He was no hero; and if fanatics began killing anointed monarchs there was no telling where such an example would stop.
The event, moreover, added much to his present perplexity. If Guise had lived, and Henry of Navarre had been amenable to reason, the realm of France might have been divided between Guise, Navarre, the Infanta, the Duke of Savoy, and Philip; but the Huguenot king had assumed the sovereignty of the whole country as soon as Henry III. fell, and had already shown that he was a soldier and diplomatist of the highest order, whom no cajolery would induce to surrender any portion of his birthright. And yet it was a matter of life and death to Philip that France should not become a heretic power, and he was obliged to tackle the monster with what strength he had left.
The first impulse of the governing council of the League in Paris on the news of the death of the king was to elect Philip sovereign of France, but the idea of the Guises had always been to obtain all or part of the realm for themselves, and consequently Mayenne procured the proclamation in Paris of Henry of Navarre’s uncle, Cardinal de Bourbon, as Charles X. He was understood to be only a stop-gap, for he was old, foolish, and childless, and the problem of the fate of France was still held in suspense. But they could never even catch their king, for his nephew Henry seized him before the Leaguers could reach him, and he never let him go again. It is certain that by this time Philip had slowly made up his mind that, as he mainly would have to fight and destroy Protestantism in France, he alone should enjoy the reward. If the affair could have been settled cheaply and without fighting, the Lorraines, the Savoys, the Bourbons, and his own House might have divided the spoil; but if his arms and money had to win the reward, it must be his, and his alone. It was the most disastrous resolution he could have taken in his own interest, for it enabled Henry of Navarre to assume the position of the patriot withstanding foreign aggression; and gradually drew to him crowds of Frenchmen, who otherwise would have stood aloof. After the king’s death Henry IV. abandoned the siege of Paris and rapidly moved to Normandy, where Elizabeth’s subsidies and the aid from his own Rochelle might reach him. Then he began that brilliant series of victories over Mayenne that commenced at Arques. Through a country already rallying to his national banner, he marched to Paris again. He struck terror into the Leaguers and Spanish inside, who were intriguing for the crown of France, which the great Bourbon was winning by his sword; and, after harrying St. Germains, he again marched on to attack Mayenne’s main army at Dreux. The Spanish Leaguers from Flanders were commanded by Egmont, the son of the man whom Alba had killed. His cavalry at first charged Henry’s infantry and broke it. Then the king himself, with his white plume for a guide, led his 2000 horsemen like a whirlwind against the Leaguers. Nothing could stand before them. The German mercenaries dropped their arms and fled, the Lorrainers and Egmont’s Walloons were swept away by the irresistible avalanche, and the battle of Ivry was won (March 14, 1590). Then without a pause Paris found itself again encircled with the victorious troops of the BÉarnais. The sufferings of the rebel city and the events of the struggle cannot be recounted here. Philip’s far-off share in them alone concerns us for the moment. It is said by those who were near Philip at the time, that the news of Mayenne’s rout at Ivry was not entirely displeasing to him. It had been evident to the Spaniards for some time that Mayenne would take the first opportunity of causing himself to be proclaimed king in Paris. Mendoza and Moreo, the Spanish agents in Paris, were already sounding notes of alarm about him in their letters to the king, and Philip must have known, now he had lost Ivry, that, come what might, Mayenne’s chance had gone. It had become certain that, if Henry IV. was to be beaten at all, it must be by an experienced warrior like Alexander Farnese with great national forces, that France indeed must be conquered before Philip could be called its king. The alternative, however, seemed to be a Protestant rival nation on his frontier, and an entire alteration of the balance of Europe, in which he would be left isolated and impotent; and he must fight to the death to prevent that. Farnese had lost much of his popularity since the Armada, and he fretted at the fact. He knew that doubts wore whispered to his uncle, not only of his loyalty, but even of his orthodoxy; and, although Philip expressed himself as being quite satisfied with his explanations about the Armada, Farnese feared that his constant ill-health foreboded death by poison. He was weary, too, with the petty war of treachery, surprises, and skirmishes which still continued between him and the Dutchmen under William the Silent’s son, Maurice. It was like new life to him when at last he got the stirring news from Philip that he was to conquer France for the Church and for the House of Spain. But for the Salic law, the Infanta would undoubtedly have been the heiress to the crown, and Philip made light of the Salic law, and boldly asserted his daughter’s right. Farnese was, above all things, a prudent commander, and insisted upon having sufficient resources for the business he had to do, and his persistence on this point again raised rumours against him. Philip’s principal agent in France, Moreo, did not hesitate to say that he was a traitor, who was plotting for his own ends; and the Spanish nobles about Farnese’s person, seeing which way the tide was running, joined in the sneers at his slowness. But he would not move, leaving Flanders unprotected, and risking his fame and life, by crossing the frontier with an inadequate force. His insistence at length gained his point, and large remittances were sent to him from Madrid, with which he could organise a good force of 13,000 men; and by August 23 he joined Mayenne at Meaux and marched to attack Henry’s besieging army before Paris. Some provisions were passed into the famished city, the siege was partly raised, and soon the tactical skill of Farnese began to tell upon Henry’s army, which was melting away with discouragement. He once more abandoned the siege, and the League army entered Paris on September 18, 1590. But then began the feeling that eventually led even the Parisians to welcome Henry. Farnese made no pretence to respect Mayenne’s authority, and the Frenchmen who had looked upon the Spanish forces as their allies found now to their dismay that they were their masters. Mayenne himself was inclined to be sulky and rebellious, and it was necessary for Farnese to teach him and Paris that they were powerless without Spanish troops; so he and his force once more marched towards the Flemish frontier, and Paris was again invested. Philip’s fanatic councillors insisted that Farnese had abandoned the task because of his want of sympathy, and the king grew colder still towards his nephew, and somewhat changed his plans. It must now have been evident to him that the French nation would not willingly accept him or his daughter as sovereign, and he reverted to his former idea of dismemberment. The Infanta really had a good claim to the duchy of Brittany, which had never formed part of the French realm, and was excepted from the action of the Salic law. The Duke of Mercoeur, whose wife was also descended from the House of Brittany, had been holding the province for the League, and was hard pressed. He begged for aid from Philip, who sent him a force of 5000 men under Don Juan del Aguila, whilst the Duke of Savoy, Philip’s son-in-law, had entered Marseilles with his army, Toulouse was garrisoned by 4000 Spaniards, and all Provence and DauphinÉ was falling under the Savoy-Spanish yoke. The Spaniards in Brittany were not long in showing their teeth. They seized and fortified Blavet and other ports against Mercoeur himself, and this brought Elizabeth on the scene with 3000 English troops. She could never have the Spaniards in ports opposite her shores, she said. And so practically all over France little wars were being waged. The country, utterly desolated and exhausted, yearned for peace and firm government before all things, and gradually came to the conclusion that they were more likely to obtain them from their own countryman, Henry, than from the Spanish king and his hangers-on. At the same time Philip’s treasury had become more and more depleted and his credit quite ruined with the bankers. He was, moreover, himself old and weary with never-ending labour at small details, and decided to strike a supreme blow once more to end heresy in France before he gave up the struggle in despair. Farnese therefore, to his annoyance this time (for he was obliged to leave Maurice of Nassau in undisturbed possession of Holland), received fresh orders from the king in September 1591 once more to cross the frontier and end the fight.
He found the leaders of the League all at discord one with the other and with the Spaniards. Mayenne’s vanity and greed had disgusted every one, and it soon became apparent to Farnese that no aid towards Spanish aims could be gained from him. He had, indeed, selfishly done his best only a few months before to impede the solution which might have drawn a majority of Frenchmen to the side of the League and the Spaniards, namely, the marriage of the Infanta with the young Duke of Guise. Henry IV. was besieging Rouen with an army of 20,000 men, nearly all mercenary Germans and English, and although his energy somewhat delayed Parma’s advance, when the latter reached Rouen he found Mayenne disinclined to accept the assistance of the Spaniards, such was his growing jealousy of them, owing partly to the diplomacy of Henry. It was not until the end of April 1592 that Parma entered Rouen in triumph. But the triumph did not last long. Parma was wounded and seriously ill, and found his supplies cut off and his force hemmed in by Henry. It was only by consummate strategy that he withdrew with the loss of nearly half his men to Flanders, there to die in December of the same year (1592). Philip could not now shut his eyes to the fact that he had lost. Frenchmen of all classes hated the idea of Spanish domination, Mayenne and the Catholics understood that the BÉarnais was going to win, for he had taken the patriotic side, and they began to cast about for means to secure themselves from ruin. If the king would only go to mass, all might be well. Henry on his side was also desirous of coming to terms. The war had desolated France, and the time was ripe for an arrangement. When, however, in January 1593, the Estates met in the Louvre, a last attempt was made by the Spanish party to have their way by diplomacy. Feria, the son of Philip’s old friend by his English wife, entered Paris as the king’s representative to claim the crown for the Infanta, who might be married to a French prince, to be chosen by Philip, or if the Estates refused this, that the crown should be given to the Duke of Guise, who might marry the Infanta. If Philip had proposed the latter solution first, it might have been accepted; but whilst Feria was bickering over the Infanta’s impossible claim, and losing precious weeks in communicating with his distant master almost daily, Henry, outside the city, was busy gaining over the Estates, showing himself gay, confident, conciliating, and, above all, French. Gabrielle d’EstrÉes, the politicians, the Leaguers, the clergy, and his own interests, all urged him to conform to the Catholic faith. On July 25, 1593, he took what he called “the mortal leap,” and attended mass at St. Denis. In March 1594 the BÉarnais entered Paris as king. The next day, through a pitiless storm, the Spanish garrison, with Feria, marched out of the gate of St. Denis. “Commend me to your master, gentlemen,” cried Henry, “but come back hither no more.” The war lingered on until Philip was nearly dying in 1598. Spanish troops still held parts of Picardy and French Flanders, and once Amiens fell into their hands, but at the end of the period even Mayenne commanded the French forces against them; and pride, and belief in the divine support, alone prevented Philip from making terms before. Henry at last listened to the promptings of the pope, and made peace with his enemy alone. He broke faith with Elizabeth and the Dutch, but he consolidated once more the French nation. Philip’s ill-starred attempts to dominate France had thus failed, but he had succeeded in preventing it from becoming a Protestant Power.
