MOTLEY’S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 28

THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC

By John Lothrop Motley
1855

CHAPTER III.

The city of Namur—­Margaret of Valois—­Her intrigues in Hainault in favour of Alencon—­Her reception by Don John at Namur—­Festivities in her, honor—­Seizure of Namur citadel by Don John—­Plan for seizing that of Antwerp—­Letter of the estates to Philip, sent by Escovedo—­Fortunes and fate of Escovedo in Madrid—­Repairing of dykes—­The Prince’s visit to Holland—­His letter to the estates—­ general on the subject of Namur citadel—­His visit to Utrecht—­ Correspondence and commissioners between Don John and the estates—­ Acrimonious and passionate character of these colloquies—­Attempt of Treslong upon Antwerp citadel frustrated by De Bourse—­Fortunate panic of the German mercenaries—­Antwerp evacuated by the foreign troops—­Renewed correspondence—­Audacity of the Governor’s demands—­ Letters of Escovedo and others intercepted—­Private schemes of Don John not understood by the estates—­His letter to the Empress Dowager—­More correspondence with the estates—­Painful and false position of the Governor—­Demolition, in part, of Antwerp citadel, and of other fortresses by the patriots Statue of Alva—­Letter of estates-general to the King.

There were few cities of the Netherlands more picturesque in situation, more trimly built, and more opulent of aspect than the little city of Namur.  Seated at the confluence of the Sombre with the Meuse, and throwing over each river a bridge of solid but graceful structure, it lay in the lap of a most fruitful valley.  Abroad crescent-shaped plain, fringed by the rapid Meuse, and enclosed by gently rolling hills cultivated to their crests, or by abrupt precipices of limestone crowned with verdure, was divided by numerous hedgerows, and dotted all over with corn-fields, vineyards, and flower gardens.  Many eyes have gazed with delight upon that well-known and most lovely valley, and many torrents of blood have mingled with those glancing waters since that long buried and most sanguinary age which forms our theme; and still placid as ever is the valley, brightly as ever flows the stream.  Even now, as in that vanished, but never-forgotten time, nestles the little city in the angle of the two rivers; still directly over its head seems to hang in mid-air the massive and frowning fortress, like the gigantic helmet-in the fiction, as if ready to crush the pigmy town below.