one hat;” but he would have done well to ask
himself whether his own contribution to this partnership
of brains would very much enrich the silent statesman.
Orange himself regarded him with respectful contempt,
and considered his interference with Netherland matters
but as an additional element of mischief. The
Duke’s right hand man, however, Peter Peutterich,
the “equestrian doctor”—as
Sir Philip Sydney called him—equally skilful
with the sword as with the pen, had succeeded, while
on a mission to England, in acquiring the Queen’s
favor for his master. To Casimir, therefore, had
been entrusted the command of the levies, and the principal
expenditure of the subsidies which she had placed
at the disposition of the states. Upon Casimir
she relied, as a counterweight to the Duke of Alencon,
who, as she knew, had already entered the provinces
at the secret solicitation of a large faction among
the nobles. She had as much confidence as ever
in Orange, but she imagined herself to be strengthening
his cause by providing him with such a lieutenant.
Casimir’s immediate friends had but little respect
for his abilities. His father-in-law, Augustus
of Saxony, did not approve his expedition. The
Landgrave William, to whom he wrote for counsel, answered,
in his quaint manner, that it was always difficult
for one friend to advise another in three matters—to
wit, in taking a wife, going to sea, and going to
war; but that, nevertheless, despite the ancient proverb,
he would assume the responsibility of warning Casimir
not to plunge into what he was pleased to call the
“‘confusum chaos’ of Netherland
politics.” The Duke felt no inclination,
however, to take the advice which he had solicited.
He had been stung by the sarcasm which Alva had once
uttered, that the German potentates carried plenty
of lions, dragons, eagles, and griffins on their shields;
but that these ferocious animals were not given to
biting or scratching. He was therefore disposed,
once for all, to show that the teeth and claws of
German princes could still be dangerous. Unfortunately,
he was destined to add a fresh element of confusion
to the chaos, and to furnish rather a proof than a
refutation of the correctness of Alva’s gibe.
This was the hero who was now thrust, head and shoulders
as it were, into the entangled affairs of the Netherlanders,
and it was Elizabeth of England, more than ever alarmed
at the schemes of Alencon, who had pushed forward
this Protestant champion, notwithstanding the disinclination
of Orange.
The Queen was right in her uneasiness respecting the
French prince. The Catholic nobles, relying upon
the strong feeling still rife throughout the Walloon
country against the Reformed religion, and inflamed
more than ever by their repugnance to Orange, whose
genius threw them so completely into the shade, had
already drawn closer to the Duke. The same influences
were at work to introduce Alencon, which had formerly
been employed to bring Matthias from Vienna.