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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, PG EDITION, VOLUME 13.

THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC

By John Lothrop Motley

1855



1567 [CHAPTER IX., Part 2.]

     Calvinists defeated at Lannoy and at Waterlots--Elation of the
     government--The siege pressed more closely--Cruelties practised upon
     the country people--Courage of the inhabitants--Remonstrance to the
     Knights of the Fleece--Conduct of Brederode--Orange at Amsterdam--
     New Oath demanded by Government--Orange refuses--He offers his
     resignation of all offices--Meeting at Breda--New "Request" of
     Brederode--He creates disturbances and levies troops in Antwerp--
     Conduct of Hoogstraaten--Plans of Brederode--Supposed connivance of
     Orange--Alarm at Brussels--Tholouse at Ostrawell--Brederode in
     Holland--De Beauvoir defeats Tholouse--Excitement at Antwerp--
     Determined conduct of Orange--Three days' tumult at Antwerp
     suppressed by the wisdom and courage of Orange.

It was then that Noircarmes and his "seven sleepers" showed that they
were awake.  Early in January, 1567, that fierce soldier, among whose
vices slothfulness was certainly never reckoned before or afterwards,
fell upon the locksmith's army at Zannoy, while the Seigneur de
Rassinghem attacked the force at Waterlots on the same day.  Noircarmes
destroyed half his enemies at the very first charge.  The ill-assorted
rabble fell asunder at once.  The preacher fought well, but his
undisciplined force fled at the first sight of the enemy.  Those who
carried arquebusses threw them down without a single discharge, that they
might run the faster.  At least a thousand were soon stretched dead upon
the field; others were hunted into the river.  Twenty-six hundred,
according to the Catholic accounts, were exterminated in an hour.

Rassinghem, on his part, with five or six hundred regulars, attacked
Teriel's force, numbering at least twice as many.  Half of these were
soon cut to pieces and put to flight.  Six hundred, however, who had seen
some service, took refuge in the cemetery of Waterlots.  Here, from
behind the stone wall of the inclosure, they sustained the attack of the
Catholics with some spirit.  The repose of the dead in the quiet country
church-yard was disturbed by the uproar of a most sanguinary conflict.
The temporary fort was soon carried, and the Huguenots retreated into the
church.  A rattling arquebusade was poured in upon them as they struggled
in the narrow doorway.  At least four hundred corpses were soon strewn
among the ancient graves.  The rest were hunted, into the church, and
from the church into the belfry.  A fire was then made in the steeple and
kept up till all were roasted or suffocated.  Not a man escaped.

This was the issue in the first stricken field in the Netherlands, for
the cause of religious liberty.  It must be confessed that it was not
very encouraging to the lovers of freedom.  The partisans of government
were elated, in proportion to the apprehension which had been felt
for the result of this rising in the Walloon country.  "These good
hypocrites," wrote a correspondent of Orange, "are lifting up their
heads like so many dromedaries.  They are becoming unmanageable with
pride."  The Duke of Aerschot and Count Meghem gave great banquets in
Brussels, where all the good chevaliers drank deep in honor of the
victory, and to the health of his Majesty and Madame.  "I saw Berlaymont
just go by the window," wrote Schwartz to the Prince.  "He was coming
from Aerschot's dinner with a face as red as the Cardinal's new hat."

On the other hand, the citizens of Valenciennes were depressed in equal
measure with the exultation of their antagonists.  There was no more talk
of seven sleepers now, no more lunettes stuck upon lances, to spy the
coming forces of the enemy.  It was felt that the government was wide
awake, and that the city would soon see the impending horrors without
telescopes.  The siege was pressed more closely.  Noircarmes took up a
commanding position at Saint Armand, by which he was enabled to cut off
all communication between the city and the surrounding country.  All the
villages in the neighborhood were pillaged; all the fields laid waste.
All the infamies which an insolent soldiery can inflict upon helpless
peasantry were daily enacted.  Men and women who attempted any
communication--with the city, were murdered in cold blood by hundreds.
The villagers were plundered of their miserable possessions, children
were stripped naked in the midst of winter for the sake of the rags which
covered them; matrons and virgins were sold at public auction by the tap
of drum; sick and wounded wretches were burned over slow fires, to afford
amusement to the soldiers.  In brief, the whole unmitigated curse which
military power inflamed by religious bigotry can embody, had descended
upon the heads of these unfortunate provincials who had dared to worship
God in Christian churches without a Roman ritual.

Meantime the city maintained, a stout heart still.  The whole population
were arranged under different banners.  The rich and poor alike took arms
to defend the walls which sheltered them.  The town paupers were enrolled
in three companies, which bore the significant title of the "Tons-nulls"
or the "Stark-nakeds," and many was the fierce conflict delivered outside
the gates by men, who, in the words of a Catholic then in the city, might
rather be taken for "experienced veterans than for burghers and
artisans."  At the same time, to the honor of Valenciennes, it must be
stated, upon the same incontestable authority, that not a Catholic in the
city was injured or insulted.  The priests who had remained there were
not allowed to say mass, but they never met with an opprobrious word or
look from the people.

The inhabitants of the city called upon the confederates for assistance.
They also issued an address to the Knights of the Fleece; a paper which
narrated the story of their wrongs in pathetic and startling language.
They appealed to those puissant and illustrious chevaliers to prevent the
perpetration of the great wrong which was now impending over so many
innocent heads.  "Wait not," they said, "till the thunderbolt has fallen,
till the deluge has overwhelmed us, till the fires already blazing have
laid the land in coals and ashes, till no other course be possible, but
to abandon the country in its desolation to foreign barbarity.  Let the
cause of the oppressed come to your ears.  So shall your conscience
become a shield of iron; so shall the happiness of a whole country
witness before the angels, of your truth to his Majesty, in the cause of
his true grandeur and glory."

These stirring appeals to an order of which Philip was chief, Viglius
chancellor, Egmont, Mansfeld, Aerschot, Berlaymont, and others,
chevaliers, were not likely to produce much effect.  The city could
rely upon no assistance in those high quarters.

Meantime, however, the bold Brederode was attempting a very extensive
diversion, which, if successful, would have saved Valenciennes and the
whole country beside.  That eccentric personage, during the autumn and
winter had been creating disturbances in various parts of the country.
Wherever he happened to be established, there came from the windows of
his apartments a sound of revelry and uproar.  Suspicious characters in
various costumes thronged his door and dogged his footsteps.  At the same
time the authorities felt themselves obliged to treat him with respect.
At Horn he had entertained many of the leading citizens at a great
banquet.--The-health-of-the-beggars had been drunk in mighty potations,
and their shibboleth had resounded through the house.  In the midst of
the festivities, Brederode had suspended a beggar's-medal around the neck
of the burgomaster, who had consented to be his guest upon that occasion,
but who had no intention of enrolling himself in the fraternities of
actual or political mendicants.  The excellent magistrate, however, was
near becoming a member of both.  The emblem by which he had been
conspicuously adorned proved very embarrassing to him upon his recovery
from the effects of his orgies with the "great beggar," and he was
subsequently punished for his imprudence by the confiscation of half his
property.

Early in January, Brederode had stationed himself in his city of Viane.
There, in virtue of his seignorial rights, he had removed all statues and
other popish emblems from the churches, performing the operation,
however, with much quietness and decorum.  He had also collected many
disorderly men at arms in this city, and had strengthened its
fortifications, to resist, as he said, the threatened attacks of Duke
Eric of Brunswick and his German mercenaries.  A printing-press was
established in the place, whence satirical pamphlets, hymn-books, and
other pestiferous productions, were constantly issuing to the annoyance
of government.  Many lawless and uproarious individuals enjoyed the
Count's hospitality.  All the dregs and filth of the provinces, according
to Doctor Viglius, were accumulated at Viane as in a cesspool.  Along the
placid banks of the Lech, on which river the city stands, the "hydra of
rebellion" lay ever coiled and threatening.

Brederode was supposed to be revolving vast schemes, both political and
military, and Margaret of Parma was kept in continual apprehension by the
bravado of this very noisy conspirator.  She called upon William of
Orange, as usual, for assistance.  The Prince, however, was very ill-
disposed to come to her relief.  An extreme disgust for the policy of the
government already began to, characterize his public language.  In the
autumn and winter he had done all that man could do for the safety of the
monarch's crown, and for the people's happiness.  His services in Antwerp
have been recorded.  As soon as he could tear himself from that city,
where the magistrates and all classes of citizens clung to him as to
their only saviour, he had hastened to tranquillize the provinces of
Holland, Zeland, and Utrecht.  He had made arrangements in the principal
cities there upon the same basis which he had adopted in Antwerp, and to
which Margaret had consented in August.  It was quite out of the question
to establish order without permitting the reformers, who constituted much
the larger portion of the population, to have liberty of religious
exercises at some places, not consecrated, within the cities.

At Amsterdam, for instance, as he informed the Duchess, there were swarms
of unlearned, barbarous people, mariners and the like, who could by no
means perceive the propriety of doing their preaching in the open
country, seeing that the open country, at that season, was quite under
water.--Margaret's gracious suggestion that, perhaps, something might be
done with boats, was also considered inadmissible.  "I know not,"
said Orange, "who could have advised your highness to make such a
proposition."  He informed her, likewise; that the barbarous mariners
had a clear right to their preaching; for the custom had already been
established previously to the August treaty, at a place called the
"Lastadge," among the wharves.  "In the name of God, then," wrote
Margaret; "let them continue to preach in the Lastadge."  This being all
the barbarians wanted, an Accord, with the full consent of the Regent,
was drawn up at Amsterdam and the other northern cities.  The Catholics
kept churches and cathedrals, but in the winter season, the greater part
of the population obtained permission to worship God upon dry land, in
warehouses and dock-yards.

Within a very few weeks, however, the whole arrangement was coolly
cancelled by the Duchess, her permission revoked, and peremptory
prohibition of all preaching within or without the walls proclaimed.
The government was growing stronger.  Had not Noircarmes and Rassinghem
cut to pieces three or four thousand of these sectaries marching to
battle under parsons, locksmiths, and similar chieftains?  Were not all
lovers of good government "erecting their heads like dromedaries?"

It may easily be comprehended that the Prince could not with complacency
permit himself to be thus perpetually stultified by a weak, false, and
imperious woman.  She had repeatedly called upon him when she was
appalled at the tempest and sinking in the ocean; and she had as
constantly disavowed his deeds and reviled his character when she felt
herself in safety again.  He had tranquillized the old Batavian
provinces, where the old Batavian spirit still lingered, by his personal
influence and his unwearied exertions.  Men of all ranks and religions
were grateful for his labors.  The Reformers had not gained much, but
they were satisfied.  The Catholics retained their churches, their
property, their consideration.  The states of Holland had voted him fifty
thousand florins, as an acknowledgment of his efforts in restoring peace.
He had refused the present.  He was in debt, pressed for money, but he
did not choose, as he informed Philip, "that men should think his actions
governed by motives of avarice or particular interest, instead of the
true affection which he bore to his Majesty's service and the good of the
country."  Nevertheless, his back was hardly turned before all his work
was undone by the Regent.

A new and important step on the part of the government had now placed him
in an attitude of almost avowed rebellion.  All functionaries, from
governors of provinces down to subalterns in the army, were required to
take a new oath of allegiance, "novum et hactenua inusitatum religionia
juramentum,"  as the Prince characterized it, which was, he said, quite
equal to the inquisition.  Every man who bore his Majesty's commission
was ordered solemnly to pledge himself to obey the orders of government,
every where, and against every person, without limitation or
restriction.--Count Mansfeld, now "factotum at Brussels," had taken the
oath with great fervor.  So had Aerachot, Berlaymont, Meghem, and, after
a little wavering, Egmont.  Orange spurned the proposition.  He had taken
oaths enough which he had never broken, nor intended now to break: He was
ready still to do every thing conducive to the real interest of the
monarch.  Who dared do more was no true servant to the government, no
true lover of the country.  He would never disgrace himself by a blind
pledge, through which he might be constrained to do acts detrimental,
in his opinion, to the safety of the crown, the happiness of the
commonwealth, and his own honor.  The alternative presented he willingly
embraced.  He renounced all his offices, and desired no longer to serve a
government whose policy he did not approve, a King by whom he was
suspected.

His resignation was not accepted by the Duchess, who still made efforts
to retain the services of a man who was necessary to her administration.
She begged him, notwithstanding the purely defensive and watchful
attitude which he had now assumed, to take measures that Brederode should
abandon his mischievous courses.  She also reproached the Prince with
having furnished that personage with artillery for his fortifications.
Orange answered, somewhat contemptuously, that he was not Brederode's
keeper, and had no occasion to meddle with his affairs.  He had given him
three small field-pieces, promised long ago; not that he mentioned that
circumstance as an excuse for the donation.  "Thank God," said he,
"we have always had the liberty in this country of making to friends or
relatives what presents we liked, and methinks that things have come to a
pretty pass when such trifles are scrutinized."  Certainly, as Suzerain
of Viane, and threatened with invasion in his seignorial rights, the
Count might think himself justified in strengthening the bulwarks of his
little stronghold, and the Prince could hardly be deemed very seriously
to endanger the safety of the crown by the insignificant present which
had annoyed the Regent.

It is not so agreeable to contemplate the apparent intimacy which the
Prince accorded to so disreputable a character, but Orange was now in
hostility to the government, was convinced by evidence, whose accuracy
time was most signally to establish, that his own head, as well as many
others, were already doomed to the block, while the whole country was
devoted to abject servitude, and he was therefore disposed to look with
more indulgence upon the follies of those who were endeavoring, however
weakly and insanely, to avert the horrors which he foresaw.  The time for
reasoning had passed.  All that true wisdom and practical statesmanship
could suggest, he had already placed at the disposal of a woman who
stabbed him in the back even while she leaned upon his arm--of a king who
had already drawn his death warrant, while reproaching his "cousin of
Orange" for want of confidence in the royal friendship.  Was he now
to attempt the subjugation of his country by interfering with the
proceedings of men whom he had no power to command, and who, at least,
were attempting to oppose tyranny?  Even if he should do so, he was
perfectly aware of the reward, reserved for his loyalty.  He liked not
such honors as he foresaw for all those who had ever interposed between
the monarch and his vengeance.  For himself he had the liberation of a
country, the foundation of a free commonwealth to achieve.  There was
much work for those hands before he should fall a victim to the crowned
assassin.

Early in February, Brederode, Hoogstraaten, Horn, and some other
gentlemen, visited the Prince at Breda.  Here it is supposed the advice
of Orange was asked concerning the new movement contemplated by
Brederode.  He was bent upon presenting a new petition to the Duchess
with great solemnity.  There is no evidence to show that the Prince
approved the step, which must have seemed to him superfluous, if not
puerile.  He probably regarded the matter with indifference.  Brederode,
however, who was fond of making demonstrations, and thought himself
endowed with a genius for such work, wrote to the Regent for letters of
safe conduct that he might come to Brussels with his petition.  The
passports were contemptuously refused.  He then came to Antwerp, from
which city he forwarded the document to Brussels in a letter.

By this new Request, the exercise of the reformed religion was claimed as
a right, while the Duchess was summoned to disband the forces which she
had been collecting, and to maintain in good faith the "August" treaty.
These claims were somewhat bolder than those of the previous April,
although the liberal party was much weaker and the confederacy entirely
disbanded.  Brederode, no doubt, thought it good generalship to throw
the last loaf of bread into the enemy's camp before the city should
surrender.  His haughty tone was at once taken down by Margaret of Parma.
"She wondered," she said, "what manner of nobles these were, who, after
requesting, a year before, to be saved only from the inquisition, now
presumed to talk about preaching in the cities."  The concessions of
August had always been odious, and were now canceled.  "As for you and
your accomplices," she continued to the Count, "you will do well to go
to your homes at once without meddling with public affairs, for, in case
of disobedience, I shall deal with you as I shall deem expedient."

Brederode not easily abashed, disregarded the advice, and continued
in Antwerp.  Here, accepting the answer of the Regent as a formal
declaration of hostilities, he busied himself in levying troops in
and about the city.

Orange had returned to Antwerp early in February.  During his absence,
Hoogstraaten had acted as governor at the instance of the Prince and of
the Regent.  During the winter that nobleman, who was very young and very
fiery, had carried matters with a high hand, whenever there had been the
least attempt at sedition.  Liberal in principles, and the devoted friend
of Orange, he was disposed however to prove that the champions of
religious liberty were not the patrons of sedition.  A riot occurring
in the cathedral, where a violent mob were engaged in defacing whatever
was left to deface in that church, and in heaping insults on the papists
at their worship, the little Count, who, says a Catholic contemporary,
"had the courage of a lion," dashed in among them, sword in hand, killed
three upon the spot, and, aided by his followers, succeeded in slaying,
wounding, or capturing all the rest.  He had also tracked the ringleader
of the tumult to his lodging, where he had caused him to be arrested at
midnight, and hanged at once in his shirt without any form of trial.
Such rapid proceedings little resembled the calm and judicious moderation
of Orange upon all occasions, but they certainly might have sufficed
to convince Philip that all antagonists of the inquisition were not
heretics and outlaws.  Upon the arrival of the Prince in Antwerp, it was
considered advisable that Hoogstraaten should remain associated with him
in the temporary government of the city.

During the month of February, Brederode remained in Antwerp, secretly
enrolling troops.  It was probably his intention--if so desultory and
irresponsible an individual could be said to have an intention--to make
an attempt upon the Island of Walcheren.  If such important cities as
Flushing and Middelburg could be gained, he thought it possible to
prevent the armed invasion now soon expected from Spain.  Orange had sent
an officer to those cities, who was to reconnoitre their condition, and
to advise them against receiving a garrison from government without his
authority.  So far he connived at Brederode's proceedings, as he had a
perfect right to do, for Walcheren was within what had been the Prince's
government, and he had no disposition that these cities should share the
fate of Tourney, Valenciennes, Bois le Duc, and other towns which had
already passed or were passing under the spears of foreign mercenaries.

It is also probable that he did not take any special pains to check the
enrolments of Brederode.  The peace of Antwerp was not endangered, and
to the preservation of that city the Prince seemed now to limit himself.
He was hereditary burgrave of Antwerp, but officer of Philip's never
more.  Despite the shrill demands of Duchess Margaret, therefore; the
Prince did not take very active measures by which the crown of Philip
might be secured.  He, perhaps, looked upon the struggle almost with
indifference.  Nevertheless, he issued a formal proclamation by which the
Count's enlistments were forbidden.  Van der Aa, a gentleman who had been
active in making these levies, was compelled to leave the city.
Brederode was already gone to the north to busy himself with further
enrolments.

In the mean time there had been much alarm in Brussels.  Egmont, who
omitted no opportunity of manifesting his loyalty, offered to throw
himself at once into the Isle of Walcheren, for the purpose of dislodging
any rebels who might have effected an entrance.  He collected accordingly
seven or eight hundred Walloon veterans, at his disposal in Flanders,
in the little port of Sas de Ghent, prepared at once to execute his
intention, "worthy," says a Catholic writer, "of his well-known courage
and magnanimity."  The Duchess expressed gratitude for the Count's
devotion and loyalty, but his services in the sequel proved unnecessary.
The rebels, several boat-loads of whom had been cruising about in the
neighborhood of Flushing during the early part of March, had been refused
admittance into any of the ports on the island.  They therefore sailed up
the Scheld, and landed at a little village called Ostrawell, at the
distance of somewhat more than a mile from Antwerp.

The commander of the expedition was Marnix of Tholouse, brother to Marnix
of Saint Aldegonde.  This young nobleman, who had left college to fight
for the cause of religious liberty, was possessed of fine talents and
accomplishments.  Like his illustrious brother, he was already a sincere
convert to the doctrines of the reformed Church.  He had nothing,
however, but courage to recommend him as a leader in a military
expedition.  He was a mere boy, utterly without experience in the
field. His troops were raw levies, vagabonds and outlaws.

Such as it was, however, his army was soon posted at Ostrawell in a
convenient position, and with considerable judgment.  He had the Scheld
and its dykes in his rear, on his right and left the dykes and the
village.  In front he threw up a breastwork and sunk a trench.  Here then
was set up the standard of rebellion, and hither flocked daily many
malcontents from the country round.  Within a few days three thousand men
were in his camp.  On the other handy Brederode was busy in Holland, and
boasted of taking the field ere long with six thousand soldiers at the
very least.  Together they would march to the relief of Valenciennes, and
dictate peace in Brussels.

It was obvious that this matter could not be allowed to go on.  The
Duchess, with some trepidation, accepted the offer made by Philip de
Lannoy, Seigneur de Beauvoir, commander of her body-guard in Brussels,
to destroy this nest of rebels without delay.  Half the whole number of
these soldiers was placed at his disposition, and Egmont supplied De
Beauvoir with four hundred of his veteran Walloons.

With a force numbering only eight hundred, but all picked men, the
intrepid officer undertook his enterprise, with great despatch and
secrecy.  Upon the 12th March, the whole troop was sent off in small
parties, to avoid suspicion, and armed only with sword and dagger.  Their
helmets, bucklers, arquebusses, corselets, spears, standards and drums,
were delivered to their officers, by whom they were conveyed noiselessly
to the place of rendezvous.  Before daybreak, upon the following morning,
De Beauvoir met his soldiers at the abbey of Saint Bernard, within a
league of Antwerp.  Here he gave them their arms, supplied them with
refreshments, and made them a brief speech.  He instructed them that
they were to advance, with furled banners and without beat of drum, till
within sight of the enemy, that the foremost section was to deliver its
fire, retreat to the rear and load, to be followed by the next, which was
to do the same, and above all, that not an arquebus should be discharged
till the faces of the enemy could be distinguished.

The troop started.  After a few minutes' march they were in full sight of
Ostrawell.  They then displayed their flags and advanced upon the fort
with loud huzzas.  Tholouse was as much taken by surprise as if they had
suddenly emerged from the bowels of the earth.  He had been informed that
the government at Brussels was in extreme trepidation.  When he first
heard the advancing trumpets and sudden shouts, he thought it a
detachment of Brederode's promised force.  The cross on the banners soon
undeceived him.  Nevertheless "like a brave and generous young gentleman
as he was," he lost no time in drawing up his men for action, implored
them to defend their breastworks, which were impregnable against so small
a force, and instructed them to wait patiently with their fire, till the
enemy were near enough to be marked.

These orders were disobeyed.  The "young scholar," as De Beauvoir had
designated him, had no power to infuse his own spirit into his rabble
rout of followers.  They were already panic-struck by the unexpected
appearance of the enemy.  The Catholics came on with the coolness of
veterans, taking as deliberate aim as if it had been they, not their
enemies, who were behind breastworks.  The troops of Tholouse fired
wildly, precipitately, quite over the heads of the assailants.  Many of
the defenders were slain as fast as they showed themselves above their
bulwarks.  The ditch was crossed, the breastwork carried at, a single
determined charge.  The rebels made little resistance, but fled as soon
as the enemy entered their fort.  It was a hunt, not a battle.  Hundreds
were stretched dead in the camp; hundreds were driven into the Scheld;
six or eight hundred took refuge in a farm-house; but De Beauvoir's men
set fire to the building, and every rebel who had entered it was burned
alive or shot.  No quarter was given.  Hardly a man of the three thousand
who had held the fort escaped.  The body of Tholouse was cut into a
hundred pieces.  The Seigneur de Beauvoir had reason, in the brief letter
which gave an account of this exploit, to assure her Highness that there
were "some very valiant fellows in his little troop."  Certainly they had
accomplished the enterprise entrusted to them with promptness, neatness,
and entire success.  Of the great rebellious gathering, which every day
had seemed to grow more formidable, not a vestige was left.

This bloody drama had been enacted in full sight of Antwerp.  The fight
had lasted from daybreak till ten o'clock in the forenoon, during the
whole of which period, the city ramparts looking towards Ostrawell, the
roofs of houses, the towers of churches had been swarming with eager
spectators.  The sound of drum and trumpet, the rattle of musketry, the
shouts of victory, the despairing cries of the vanquished were heard by
thousands who deeply sympathized with the rebels thus enduring so
sanguinary a chastisement.  In Antwerp there were forty thousand people
opposed to the Church of Rome.  Of this number the greater proportion
were Calvinists, and of these Calvinists there were thousands looking
down from the battlements upon the disastrous fight.

The excitement soon became uncontrollable.  Before ten o'clock vast
numbers of sectaries came pouring towards the Red Gate, which afforded
the readiest egress to the scene of action; the drawbridge of the
Ostrawell Gate having been destroyed the night before by command of
Orange.  They came from every street and alley of the city.  Some were
armed with lance, pike, or arquebus; some bore sledge-hammers; others had
the partisans, battle-axes, and huge two-handed swords of the previous
century; all were determined upon issuing forth to the rescue of their
friends in the fields outside the town.  The wife of Tholouse, not yet
aware of her husband's death, although his defeat was obvious, flew from
street to street, calling upon the Calvinists to save or to avenge their
perishing brethren.

A terrible tumult prevailed.  Ten thousand men were already up and in
arms.--It was then that the Prince of Orange, who was sometimes described
by his enemies as timid and pusillanimous by nature, showed the mettle he
was made of.  His sense of duty no longer bade him defend the crown of
Philip--which thenceforth was to be entrusted to the hirelings of the
Inquisition--but the vast population of Antwerp, the women, the children,
and the enormous wealth of the richest Deity in the world had been
confided to his care, and he had accepted the responsibility.  Mounting
his horse, he made his appearance instantly at the Red Gate, before as
formidable a mob as man has ever faced.  He came there almost alone,
without guards.  Hoogstraaten arrived soon afterwards with the same
intention.  The Prince was received with howls of execration.  A thousand
hoarse voices called him the Pope's servant, minister of Antichrist, and
lavished upon him many more epithets of the same nature.  His life was in
imminent danger.  A furious clothier levelled an arquebus full at his
breast.  "Die, treacherous villain?"  he cried; "thou who art the cause
that our brethren have perished thus miserably in yonder field."  The
loaded weapon was struck away by another hand in the crowd, while the
Prince, neither daunted by the ferocious demonstrations against his life,
nor enraged by the virulent abuse to which he was subjected, continued
tranquilly, earnestly, imperatively to address the crowd.  William of
Orange had that in his face and tongue "which men willingly call master-
authority."  With what other talisman could he, without violence and
without soldiers, have quelled even for a moment ten thousand furious
Calvinists, armed, enraged against his person, and thirsting for
vengeance on Catholics.  The postern of the Red Gate had already been
broken through before Orange and his colleague, Hoogstraaten, had
arrived.  The most excited of the Calvinists were preparing to rush forth
upon the enemy at Ostrawell.  The Prince, after he had gained the ear of
the multitude, urged that the battle was now over, that the reformers
were entirely cut to pieces, the enemy, retiring, and that a disorderly
and ill-armed mob would be unable to retrieve the fortunes of the day.
Many were persuaded to abandon the design.  Five hundred of the most
violent, however, insisted upon leaving the gates, and the governors,
distinctly warning these zealots that their blood must be upon their own
heads, reluctantly permitted that number to issue from the city.  The
rest of the mob, not appeased, but uncertain, and disposed to take
vengeance upon the Catholics within the walls, for the disaster which had
been occurring without, thronged tumultuously to the long, wide street,
called the Mere, situate in the very heart of the city.

Meantime the ardor of those who had sallied from the gate grew sensibly
cooler, when they found themselves in the open fields.  De Beauvoir,
whose men, after the victory, had scattered in pursuit of the fugitives,
now heard the tumult in the city.  Suspecting an attack, he rallied his
compact little army again for a fresh encounter.  The last of the
vanquished Tholousians who had been captured; more fortunate than their
predecessors, had been spared for ransom.  There were three hundred of
them; rather a dangerous number of prisoners for a force of eight
hundred, who were just going into another battle.  De Beauvoir commanded
his soldiers, therefore, to shoot them all.  This order having been
accomplished, the Catholics marched towards Antwerp, drums beating,
colors flying.  The five hundred Calvinists, not liking their appearance,
and being in reality outnumbered, retreated within; the gates as hastily
as they had just issued from them.  De Beauvoir advanced close to the
city moat, on the margin of which he planted the banners of the
unfortunate Tholouse, and sounded a trumpet of defiance.  Finding that
the citizens had apparently no stomach for the fight, he removed his
trophies, and took his departure.

On the other hand, the tumult within the walls had again increased.  The
Calvinists had been collecting in great numbers upon the Mere.  This was
a large and splendid thoroughfare, rather an oblong market-place than a
street, filled with stately buildings, and communicating by various cross
streets with the Exchange and with many other public edifices.  By an
early hour in the afternoon twelve or fifteen thousand Calvinists, all
armed and fighting men, had assembled upon the place.  They had
barricaded the whole precinct with pavements and upturned wagons.
They had already broken into the arsenal and obtained many field-pieces,
which were planted at the entrance of every street and by-way.  They had
stormed the city jail and liberated the prisoners, all of whom, grateful
and ferocious, came to swell the numbers who defended the stronghold on
the Mere.  A tremendous mischief was afoot.  Threats of pillaging the
churches and the houses of the Catholics, of sacking the whole opulent
city, were distinctly heard among this powerful mob, excited by religious
enthusiasm, but containing within one great heterogeneous mass the
elements of every crime which humanity can commit.  The alarm throughout
the city was indescribable.  The cries of women and children, as they
remained in trembling expectation of what the next hour might bring
forth, were, said one who heard them, "enough to soften the hardest
hearts."

Nevertheless the diligence and courage of the Prince kept pace with the
insurrection.  He had caused the eight companies of guards enrolled in
September, to be mustered upon the square in front of the city hall, for
the protection of that building and of the magistracy.  He had summoned
the senate of the city, the board of ancients, the deans of guilds, the
ward masters, to consult with him at the council-room.  At the peril of
his life he had again gone before the angry mob in the Mere, advancing
against their cannon and their outcries, and compelling them to appoint
eight deputies to treat with him and the magistrates at the town-hall.
This done, quickly but deliberately he had drawn up six articles, to
which those deputies gave their assent, and in which the city government
cordially united.  These articles provided that the keys of the city
should remain in the possession of the Prince and of Hoogstraaten, that
the watch should be held by burghers and soldiers together, that the
magistrates should permit the entrance of no garrison, and that the
citizens should be entrusted with the care of, the charters, especially
with that of the joyful entrance.

These arrangements, when laid before the assembly at the Mere by their
deputies, were not received with favor.  The Calvinists demanded the keys
of the city.  They did not choose to be locked up at the mercy of any
man.  They had already threatened to blow the city hall into the air if
the keys were not delivered to them.  They claimed that burghers, without
distinction of religion, instead of mercenary troops, should be allowed
to guard the market-place in front of the town-hall.

It was now nightfall, and no definite arrangement had been concluded.
Nevertheless, a temporary truce was made, by means of a concession as to
the guard.  It was agreed that the burghers, Calvinists and Lutherans, as
well as Catholics, should be employed to protect the city.  By subtlety,
however, the Calvinists detailed for that service, were posted not in the
town-house square, but on the ramparts and at the gates.

A night of dreadful expectation was passed.  The army of fifteen thousand
mutineers remained encamped and barricaded on the Mere, with guns loaded
and artillery pointed.  Fierce cries of "Long live the beggars,"--"Down
with the papists," and other significant watchwords, were heard all night
long, but no more serious outbreak occurred.

During the whole of the following day, the Calvinists remained in their
encampment, the Catholics and the city guardsmen at their posts near the
city hall.  The Prince was occupied in the council-chamber from morning
till night with the municipal authorities, the deputies of "the
religion," and the guild officers, in framing a new treaty of peace.
Towards evening fifteen articles were agreed upon, which were to be
proposed forthwith to the insurgents, and in case of nonacceptance to be
enforced.  The arrangement provided that there should be no garrison;
that the September contracts permitting the reformed worship at certain
places within the city should be maintained; that men of different
parties should refrain from mutual insults; that the two governors, the
Prince and Hoogstraaten, should keep the keys; that the city should be
guarded by both soldiers and citizens, without distinction of religious
creed; that a band of four hundred cavalry and a small flotilla of
vessels of war should be maintained for the defence of the place, and
that the expenses to be incurred should be levied upon all classes,
clerical and lay, Catholic and Reformed, without any exception.

It had been intended that the governors, accompanied by the magistrates,
should forthwith proceed to the Mere, for the purpose of laying these
terms before the insurgents.  Night had, however, already arrived, and it
was understood that the ill-temper of the Calvinists had rather increased
than diminished, so that it was doubtful whether the arrangement would be
accepted.  It was, therefore, necessary to await the issue of another
day, rather than to provoke a night battle in the streets.

During the night the Prince labored incessantly to provide against the
dangers of the morrow.  The Calvinists had fiercely expressed their
disinclination to any reasonable arrangement.  They had threatened,
without farther pause, to plunder the religious houses and the mansions
of all the wealthy Catholics, and to drive every papist out of town.
They had summoned the Lutherans to join with them in their revolt, and
menaced them, in case of refusal, with the same fate which awaited the
Catholics.  The Prince, who was himself a Lutheran, not entirely free
from the universal prejudice against the Calvinists, whose sect he
afterwards embraced, was fully aware of the deplorable fact, that the
enmity at that day between Calvinists and Lutherans was as fierce as that
between Reformers and Catholics.  He now made use of this feeling, and of
his influence with those of the Augsburg Confession, to save the city.
During the night he had interviews with the ministers and notable members
of the Lutheran churches, and induced them to form an alliance upon this
occasion with the Catholics and with all friends of order, against an
army of outlaws who were threatening to burn and sack the city.  The
Lutherans, in the silence of night, took arms and encamped, to the number
of three or four thousand, upon the river side, in the neighborhood of
Saint Michael's cloister.  The Prince also sent for the deans of all the
foreign mercantile associations--Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, English,
Hanseatic, engaged their assistance also for the protection of the city,
and commanded them to remain in their armor at their respective
factories, ready to act at a moment's warning.  It was agreed that they
should be informed at frequent intervals as to the progress of events.

On the morning of the 15th, the city of Antwerp presented a fearful
sight.  Three distinct armies were arrayed at different points within its
walls.  The Calvinists, fifteen thousand strong, lay in their encampment
on the Mere; the Lutherans, armed, and eager for action, were at St.
Michael's; the Catholics and the regulars of the city guard were posted
on the square.  Between thirty-five and forty thousand men were up,
according to the most moderate computation.  All parties were excited,
and eager for the fray.  The fires of religious hatred burned fiercely in
every breast.  Many malefactors and outlaws, who had found refuge in the
course of recent events at Antwerp, were in the ranks of the Calvinists,
profaning a sacred cause, and inspiring a fanatical party with bloody
resolutions.  Papists, once and forever, were to be hunted down, even as
they had been for years pursuing Reformers.  Let the men who had fed fat
on the spoils of plundered Christians be dealt with in like fashion.  Let
their homes be sacked, their bodies given to the dogs--such were the
cries uttered by thousands of armed men.

On the other hand, the Lutherans, as angry and as rich as the Catholics,
saw in every Calvinist a murderer and a robber.  They thirsted after
their blood; for the spirit of religious frenzy; the characteristic of
the century, can with difficulty be comprehended in our colder and more
sceptical age.  There was every probability that a bloody battle was to
be fought that day in the streets of Antwerp--a general engagement, in
the course of which, whoever might be the victors, the city was sure to
be delivered over to fire, sack, and outrage.  Such would have been the
result, according to the concurrent testimony of eye-witnesses, and
contemporary historians of every country and creed, but for the courage
and wisdom of one man.  William of Orange knew what would be the
consequence of a battle, pent up within the walls of Antwerp.  He foresaw
the horrible havoc which was to be expected, the desolation which would
be brought to every hearth in the city.  "Never were men so desperate and
so willing to fight," said Sir Thomas Gresham, who had been expecting
every hour his summons to share in the conflict.  If the Prince were
unable that morning to avert the impending calamity, no other power,
under heaven, could save Antwerp from destruction.

The articles prepared on the 14th had been already approved by those who
represented the Catholic and Lutheran interests.  They were read early in
the morning to the troops assembled on the square and at St. Michael's,
and received with hearty cheers.  It was now necessary that the
Calvinists should accept them, or that the quarrel should be fought out
at once.  At ten o'clock, William of Orange, attended by his colleague,
Hoogstraaten, together with a committee of the municipal authorities, and
followed by a hundred troopers, rode to the Mere.  They wore red scarfs
over their armor, as symbols by which all those who had united to put
down the insurrection were distinguished.  The fifteen thousand
Calvinists, fierce and disorderly as ever, maintained a threatening
aspect.  Nevertheless, the Prince was allowed to ride into the midst of
the square.  The articles were then read aloud by his command, after
which, with great composure, he made a few observations.  He pointed out
that the arrangement offered them was founded upon the September
concessions, that the right of worship was conceded, that the foreign
garrison was forbidden, and that nothing further could be justly demanded
or honorably admitted.  He told them that a struggle upon their part
would be hopeless, for the Catholics and Lutherans, who were all agreed
as to the justice of the treaty, outnumbered them by nearly two to one.
He, therefore, most earnestly and affectionately adjured them to testify
their acceptance to the peace offered by repeating the words with which
he should conclude.  Then, with a firm voice; the Prince exclaimed, "God
Save the King!"  It was the last time that those words were ever heard
from the lips of the man already proscribed by Philip.  The crowd of
Calvinists hesitated an instant, and then, unable to resist the tranquil
influence, convinced by his reasonable language, they raised one
tremendous shout of "Vive le Roi!"

The deed was done, the peace accepted, the dreadful battle averted,
Antwerp saved.  The deputies of the Calvinists now formally accepted and
signed the articles.  Kind words were exchanged among the various classes
of fellow-citizens, who but an hour before had been thirsting for each
other's blood, the artillery and other weapons of war were restored to
the arsenals, Calvinists, Lutherans, and Catholics, all laid down their
arms, and the city, by three o'clock, was entirely quiet.  Fifty thousand
armed men had been up, according to some estimates, yet, after three days
of dreadful expectation, not a single person had been injured, and the
tumult was now appeased.

The Prince had, in truth, used the mutual animosity of Protestant sects
to a good purpose; averting bloodshed by the very weapons with which the
battle was to have been waged.  Had it been possible for a man like
William the Silent to occupy the throne where Philip the Prudent sat,
how different might have been the history of Spain and the fate of the
Netherlands.  Gresham was right, however, in his conjecture that the
Regent and court would not "take the business well."  Margaret of Parma
was incapable of comprehending such a mind as that of Orange, or of
appreciating its efforts.  She was surrounded by unscrupulous and
mercenary soldiers, who hailed the coming civil war as the most
profitable of speculations.  "Factotum" Mansfeld; the Counts Aremberg and
Meghem, the Duke of Aerschot, the Sanguinary Noircarmes, were already
counting their share in the coming confiscations.  In the internecine
conflict approaching, there would be gold for the gathering, even if no
honorable laurels would wreath their swords.  "Meghen with his regiment
is desolating the country," wrote William of Orange to the Landgrave of
Hesse, "and reducing many people to poverty.  Aremberg is doing the same
in Friesland.  They are only thinking how, under the pretext of religion,
they may grind the poor Christians, and grow rich and powerful upon their
estates and their blood."

The Seignior de Beauvoir wrote to the Duchess, claiming all the estates
of Tholouse, and of his brother St. Aldegonde, as his reward for the
Ostrawell victory, while Noircarmes was at this very moment to commence
at Valenciennes that career of murder and spoliation which, continued at
Mons a few years afterwards, was to load his name with infamy.

From such a Regent, surrounded by such councillors, was the work of
William de Nassau's hands to gain applause?  What was it to them that
carnage and plunder had been spared in one of the richest and most
populous cities in Christendom?  Were not carnage and plunder the very
elements in which they disported themselves?  And what more dreadful
offence against God and Philip could be committed than to permit, as the
Prince had just permitted, the right of worship in a Christian land to
Calvinists and Lutherans?  As a matter of course, therefore, Margaret of
Parma denounced the terms by which Antwerp had been saved as a "novel and
exorbitant capitulation," and had no intention of signifying her
approbation either to prince or magistrate.




1567 [CHAPTER X.]

     Egmont and Aerschot before Valenciennes--Severity of Egmont--
     Capitulation of the city--Escape and capture of the ministers--
     Execution of La Grange and De Bray--Horrible cruelty at
     Valenciennes--Effects of the reduction of Valenciennes--The Duchess
     at Antwerp--Armed invasion of the provinces decided upon in Spain--
     Appointment of Alva--Indignation of Margaret--Mission of De Billy--
     Pretended visit of Philip--Attempts of the Duchess to gain over
     Orange--Mission of Berty--Interview between Orange and Egmont at
     Willebroek--Orange's letters to Philip, to Egmont, and to Horn--
     Orange departs from the Netherlands--Philip's letter to Egmont--
     Secret intelligence received by Orange--La Torre's mission to
     Brederode--Brederode's departure and death--Death of Bergen--Despair
     in the provinces--Great emigration--Cruelties practised upon those
     of the new religion--Edict of 24th May--Wrath of the King.

Valenciennes, whose fate depended so closely upon the issue of these
various events, was now trembling to her fall.  Noircarmes had been
drawing the lines more and more closely about the city, and by a
refinement of cruelty had compelled many Calvinists from Tournay to act
as pioneers in the trenches against their own brethren in Valenciennes.
After the defeat of Tholouse, and the consequent frustration of all
Brederode's arrangements to relieve the siege, the Duchess had sent a
fresh summons to Valenciennes, together with letters acquainting the
citizens with the results of the Ostrawell battle.  The intelligence was
not believed.  Egmont and Aerschot, however, to whom Margaret had
entrusted this last mission to the beleaguered town, roundly rebuked the
deputies who came to treat with them, for their insolence in daring to
doubt the word of the Regent.  The two seigniors had established
themselves in the Chateau of Beusnage, at a league's distance from
Valenciennes.  Here they received commissioners from the city, half of
whom were Catholics appointed by the magistrates, half Calvinists deputed
by the consistories.  These envoys were informed that the Duchess would
pardon the city for its past offences, provided the gates should now be
opened, the garrison received, and a complete suppression of all religion
except that of Rome acquiesced in without a murmur.  As nearly the whole
population was of the Calvinist faith, these terms could hardly be
thought favorable.  It was, however, added, that fourteen days should be
allowed to the Reformers for the purpose of converting their property,
and retiring from the country.

The deputies, after conferring with their constituents in the, city,
returned on the following day with counter-propositions, which were not
more likely to find favor with the government.  They offered to accept
the garrison, provided the soldiers should live at their own expense,
without any tax to the citizens for their board, lodging, or pay.  They
claimed that all property which had been seized should be restored, all
persons accused of treason liberated.  They demanded the unconditional
revocation of the edict by which the city had been declared rebellious,
together with a guarantee from the Knights of the Fleece and the state
council that the terms of the propose& treaty should be strictly
observed.

As soon as these terms had been read to the two seigniors, the Duke of
Aerschot burst into an immoderate fit of laughter.  He protested that
nothing could be more ludicrous than such propositions, worthy of a
conqueror dictating a peace, thus offered by a city closely beleaguered,
and entirely at the mercy of the enemy.  The Duke's hilarity was not
shared by Egmont, who, on the contrary, fell into a furious passion.  He
swore that the city should be burned about their ears, and that every one
of the inhabitants should be put to the sword for the insolent language
which they had thus dared to address to a most clement sovereign.  He
ordered the trembling deputies instantly to return with this peremptory
rejection of their terms, and with his command that the proposals of
government should be accepted within three days' delay.

The commissioners fell upon their knees at Egmont's feet, and begged for
mercy.  They implored him at least to send this imperious message by some
other hand than theirs, and to permit them to absent themselves from the
city.  They should be torn limb from limb, they said, by the enraged
inhabitants, if they dared to present themselves with such instructions
before them.  Egmont, however, assured them that they should be sent into
the city, bound hand and foot, if they did not instantly obey his orders.
The deputies, therefore, with heavy hearts, were fain to return home with
this bitter result to their negotiations.  The, terms were rejected, as a
matter of course, but the gloomy forebodings of the commissioners, as to
their own fate at the hands of their fellow-citizens, were not fulfilled.

Instant measures were now taken to cannonade the city.  Egmont, at the
hazard of his life, descended into the foss, to reconnoitre the works,
and to form an opinion as to the most eligible quarter at which to direct
the batteries.  Having communicated the result of his investigations to
Noircarmes, he returned to report all these proceedings to the Regent at
Brussels.  Certainly the Count had now separated himself far enough from
William of Orange, and was manifesting an energy in the cause of tyranny
which was sufficiently unscrupulous.  Many people who had been deceived
by his more generous demonstrations in former times, tried to persuade
themselves that he was acting a part.  Noircarmes, however--and no man
was more competent to decide the question distinctly--expressed his
entire confidence in Egmont's loyalty.  Margaret had responded warmly to
his eulogies, had read with approbation secret letters from Egmont to
Noircarmes, and had expressed the utmost respect and affection for "the
Count."  Egmont had also lost no time in writing to Philip, informing him
that he had selected the most eligible spot for battering down the
obstinate city of Valenciennes, regretting that he could not have had the
eight or ten military companies, now at his disposal, at an earlier day,
in which case he should have been able to suppress many tumults, but
congratulating his sovereign that the preachers were all fugitive, the
reformed religion suppressed, and the people disarmed.  He assured the
King that he would neglect no effort to prevent any renewal of the
tumults, and expressed the hope that his Majesty would be satisfied with
his conduct, notwithstanding the calumnies of which the times were full.

Noircarmes meanwhile, had unmasked his batteries, and opened his fire
exactly according to Egmont's suggestions.

The artillery played first upon what was called the "White Tower," which
happened to bear this ancient, rhyming inscription:

              "When every man receives his own,
               And justice reigns for strong and weak,
               Perfect shall be this tower of stone,
               And all the dumb will learn to speak."

              "Quand chacun sera satisfaict,
               Et la justice regnera,
               Ce boulevard sera parfaict,
               Et--la muette parlera."--Valenciennes MS.


For some unknown reason, the rather insipid quatrain was tortured into a
baleful prophecy.  It was considered very ominous that the battery should
be first opened against this Sibylline tower.  The chimes, too, which had
been playing, all through the siege, the music of Marot's sacred songs,
happened that morning to be sounding forth from every belfry the twenty-
second psalm: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

It was Palm Sunday, 23d of March.  The women and children were going
mournfully about the streets, bearing green branches in their hands, and
praying upon their knees, in every part of the city.  Despair and
superstition had taken possession of citizens, who up to that period had
justified La Noue's assertion, that none could endure a siege like
Huguenots.  As soon as the cannonading began, the spirit of the
inhabitants seemed to depart.  The ministers exhorted their flocks in
vain as the tiles and chimneys began to topple into the streets, and the
concussions of the artillery were responded to by the universal wailing
of affrighted women.

Upon the very first day after the unmasking of the batteries, the city
sent to Noircarmes, offering almost an unconditional surrender.  Not the
slightest breach had been effected--not the least danger of an assault
existed--yet the citizens, who had earned the respect of their
antagonists by the courageous manner in which they had sallied and
skirmished during the siege, now in despair at any hope of eventual
succor, and completely demoralized by the course of recent events outside
their walls, surrendered ignominiously, and at discretion.  The only
stipulation agreed to by Noircarmes was, that the city should not be
sacked, and that the lives of the inhabitants should be spared.

This pledge was, however, only made to be broken.  Noircarmes entered the
city and closed the gates.  All the richest citizens, who of course were
deemed the most criminal, were instantly arrested.  The soldiers,
although not permitted formally to sack the city, were quartered upon the
inhabitants, whom they robbed and murdered, according to the testimony of
a Catholic citizen, almost at their pleasure.

Michael Herlin, a very wealthy and distinguished burgher, was arrested
upon the first day.  The two ministers, Guido de Bray and Peregrine de
la Grange, together with the son of Herlin, effected their escape by the
water-gate.  Having taken refuge in a tavern at Saint Arnaud, they were
observed, as they sat at supper, by a peasant, who forthwith ran off to
the mayor of the borough with the intelligence that some individuals,
who looked like fugitives, had arrived at Saint Arnaud.  One of them,
said the informer, was richly dressed; and wore a gold-hilted sword with
velvet scabbard.  By the description, the mayor recognized Herlin the
younger,--and suspected his companions.  They were all arrested, and sent
to Noircarmes.  The two Herlins, father and son, were immediately
beheaded.  Guido de Bray and Peregrine de la Grange were loaded with
chains, and thrown into a filthy dungeon, previously to their being
hanged.  Here they were visited by the Countess de Roeulx, who was
curious to see how the Calvinists sustained themselves in their
martyrdom.  She asked them how they could sleep, eat, or drink, when
covered with such heavy fetters.  "The cause, and my good conscience,"
answered De Bray, "make me eat, drink, and sleep better than those who
are doing me wrong.  These shackles are more honorable to me than golden
rings and chains.  They are more useful to me, and as I hear their clank,
methinks I hear the music of sweet voices and the tinkling of lutes."

This exultation never deserted these courageous enthusiasts.  They
received their condemnation to death "as if it had been an invitation to
a marriage feast."  They encouraged the friends who crowded their path to
the scaffold with exhortations to remain true in the Reformed faith.  La
Grange, standing upon the ladder, proclaimed with a loud voice, that he
was slain for having preached the pure word of God to a Christian people
in a Christian land.  De Bray, under the same gibbet; testified stoutly
that he, too, had committed that offence alone.  He warned his friends to
obey the magistrates, and all others in authority, except in matters of
conscience; to abstain from sedition; but to obey the will of God.  The
executioner threw him from the ladder while he was yet speaking.  So
ended the lives of two eloquent, learned, and highly-gifted divines.

Many hundreds of victims were sacrificed in the unfortunate city.
"There were a great many other citizens strangled or beheaded," says an
aristocratic Catholic historian of the time, "but they were mostly
personages of little quality, whose names are quite unknown to me."--
[Pontus Payen]--The franchises of the city were all revoked.  There was a
prodigious amount of property confiscated to the benefit of Noircarmes
and the rest of the "Seven Sleepers."  Many Calvinists were burned,
others were hanged.  "For--two whole years," says another Catholic, who
was a citizen of Valenciennes at the time, "there was, scarcely a week in
which several citizens were not executed and often a great number were
despatched at a time.  All this gave so much alarm to the good and
innocent, that many quitted the city as fast as they could."  If the good
and innocent happened to be rich, they might be sure that Noircarmes
would deem that a crime for which no goodness and innocence could atone.

Upon the fate of Valenciennes had depended, as if by common agreement,
the whole destiny of the anti-Catholic party.  "People had learned at
last," says another Walloon, "that the King had long arms, and that he
had not been enlisting soldiers to string beads.  So they drew in their
horns and their evil tempers, meaning to put them forth again, should the
government not succeed at the siege of Valenciennes."  The government had
succeeded, however, and the consternation was extreme, the general
submission immediate and even abject.  "The capture of Valenciennes,"
wrote Noircarmes to Granvelle, "has worked a miracle.  The other cities
all come forth to meet me, putting the rope around their own necks."
No opposition was offered any where.  Tournay had been crushed;
Valenciennes, Bois le Duc, and all other important places, accepted their
garrisons without a murmur.  Even Antwerp had made its last struggle, and
as soon as the back of Orange was turned, knelt down in the dust to
receive its bridle.  The Prince had been able, by his courage and wisdom,
to avert a sanguinary conflict within its walls, but his personal
presence alone could guarantee any thing like religious liberty for the
inhabitants, now that the rest of the country was subdued.  On the 26th
April, sixteen companies of infantry, under Count Mansfeld, entered the
gates.  On the 28th the Duchess made a visit to the city, where she was
received with respect, but where her eyes were shocked by that which she
termed the "abominable, sad, and hideous spectacle of the desolated
churches."

To the eyes of all who loved their fatherland and their race, the sight
of a desolate country, with its ancient charters superseded by brute
force, its industrious population swarming from the land in droves, as if
the pestilence were raging, with gibbets and scaffolds erected in every
village, and with a Sickening and universal apprehension of still darker
disasters to follow, was a spectacle still more sad, hideous, and
abominable.

For it was now decided that the Duke of Alva, at the head of a Spanish
army, should forthwith take his departure for the Netherlands.  A land
already subjugated was to be crushed, and every vestige of its ancient
liberties destroyed.  The conquered provinces, once the abode of
municipal liberty, of science, art, and literature, and blessed with an
unexampled mercantile and manufacturing prosperity, were to be placed in
absolute subjection to the cabinet council at Madrid.  A dull and
malignant bigot, assisted by a few Spanish grandees, and residing at the
other extremity of Europe, was thenceforth to exercise despotic authority
over countries which for centuries had enjoyed a local administration,
and a system nearly approaching to complete self-government.  Such was
the policy devised by Granvelle and Spinosa, which the Duke of Alva, upon
the 15th April, had left Madrid to enforce.

It was very natural that Margaret of Parma should be indignant at being
thus superseded.  She considered herself as having acquired much credit
by the manner in which the latter insurrectionary movements had been
suppressed, so soon as Philip, after his endless tergiversations, had
supplied her with arms and money.  Therefore she wrote in a tone of great
asperity to her brother, expressing her discontent.  She had always been
trammelled in her action, she said, by his restrictions upon her
authority.  She complained that he had no regard for her reputation or
her peace of mind.  Notwithstanding, all impediments and dangers, she had
at last settled the country, and now another person was to reap the
honor.  She also despatched the Seigneur de Billy to Spain, for the
purpose of making verbal representations to his Majesty upon the
inexpediency of sending the Duke of Alva to the Netherlands at that
juncture with a Spanish army.

Margaret gained nothing, however, by her letters and her envoy, save a
round rebuke from Philip, who was not accustomed to brook the language
of remonstrance; even from his sister.  His purpose was fixed.  Absolute
submission was now to be rendered by all.  "He was highly astonished and
dissatisfied," he said, "that she should dare to write to him with so
much passion, and in so resolute a manner.  If she received no other
recompense, save the glory of having restored the service of God, she
ought to express her gratitude to the King for having given her the
opportunity of so doing."

The affectation of clement intentions was still maintained, together with
the empty pretence of the royal visit.  Alva and his army were coming
merely to prepare the way for the King, who still represented himself as
"debonair and gentle, slow to anger, and averse from bloodshed."
Superficial people believed that the King was really coming, and hoped
wonders from his advent.  The Duchess knew better.  The Pope never
believed in it, Granvelle never believed in it, the Prince of Orange
never believed in it, Councillor d'Assonleville never believed in it.
"His Majesty," says the Walloon historian, who wrote from Assonleville's
papers, "had many imperative reasons for not coming.  He was fond of
quiet, he was a great negotiator, distinguished for phlegm and modesty,
disinclined to long journeys, particularly to sea voyages, which were
very painful to him.  Moreover, he was then building his Escorial with so
much taste and affection that it was impossible for him to leave home."
These excellent reasons sufficed to detain the monarch, in whose place a
general was appointed, who, it must be confessed, was neither phlegmatic
nor modest, and whose energies were quite equal to the work required.
There had in truth never been any thing in the King's project of visiting
the Netherlands but pretence.

On the other hand, the work of Orange for the time was finished.  He had
saved Antwerp, he had done his best to maintain the liberties of the
country, the rights of conscience, and the royal authority, so far as
they were compatible with each other.  The alternative had now been
distinctly forced upon every man, either to promise blind obedience or
to accept the position of a rebel.  William of Orange had thus become a
rebel.  He had been requested to sign the new oath, greedily taken by the
Mansfelds, the Berlaymont, the Aerachot, and the Egmonts, to obey every
order which he might receive, against every person and in every place,
without restriction or limitation,--and he had distinctly and repeatedly
declined the demand.  He had again and again insisted upon resigning all
his offices.  The Duchess, more and more anxious to gain over such an
influential personage to the cause of tyranny, had been most importunate
in her requisitions.  "A man with so noble a heart," she wrote to the
Prince, "and with a descent from, such illustrious and loyal ancestors,
can surely not forget his duties to his Majesty and the country."

William of Orange knew his duty to both better than the Duchess could
understand.  He answered this fresh summons by reminding her that he had
uniformly refused the new and extraordinary pledge required of him.  He
had been true to his old oaths, and therefore no fresh pledge was
necessary.  Moreover, a pledge without limitation he would never take.
The case might happen, he said, that he should be ordered to do things
contrary to his conscience, prejudicial to his Majesty's service, and in
violation of his oaths to maintain the laws of the country.  He therefore
once more resigned all his offices, and signified his intention of
leaving the provinces.

Margaret had previously invited him to an interview at Brussels, which he
had declined, because he had discovered a conspiracy in that place to
"play him a trick."  Assonleville had already been sent to him without
effect.  He had refused to meet a deputation of Fleece Knights at
Mechlin, from the same suspicion of foul play.  After the termination of
the Antwerp tumult, Orange again wrote to the Duchess, upon the 19th
March, repeating his refusal to take the oath, and stating that he
considered himself as at least suspended from all his functions, since
she had refused, upon the ground of incapacity, to accept his formal
resignation.  Margaret now determined, by the advice of the state
council, to send Secretary Berty, provided with an ample letter of
instructions, upon a special mission to the Prince at Antwerp.  That
respectable functionary performed his task with credit, going through the
usual formalities, and adducing the threadbare arguments in favor of the
unlimited oath, with much adroitness and decorum.  He mildly pointed out
the impropriety of laying down such responsible posts as those which the
Prince now occupied at such a juncture.  He alluded to the distress which
the step must occasion to the debonair sovereign.

William of Orange became somewhat impatient under the official lecture
of this secretary to the privy council, a mere man of sealing-wax and
protocols.  The slender stock of platitudes with which he had come
provided was soon exhausted.  His arguments shrivelled at once in the
scorn with which the Prince received them.  The great statesman, who, it
was hoped, would be entrapped to ruin, dishonor, and death by such very
feeble artifices, asked indignantly whether it were really expected that
he should acknowledge himself perjured to his old obligations by now
signing new ones; that he should disgrace himself by an unlimited pledge
which might require him to break his oaths to the provincial statutes and
to the Emperor; that he should consent to administer the religious edicts
which he abhorred; that he should act as executioner of Christians on
account of their religious opinions, an office against which his soul
revolted; that he should bind himself by an unlimited promise which might
require, him to put his own wife to death, because she was a Lutheran?
Moreover, was it to be supposed that he would obey without restriction
any orders issued to him in his Majesty's name, when the King's
representative might be a person whose supremacy it ill became one of
his' race to acknowledge?  Was William of Orange to receive absolute
commands from the Duke of Alva?  Having mentioned that name with
indignation, the Prince became silent.

It was very obvious that no impression was to be made upon the man by
formalists.  Poor Berty having conjugated his paradigm conscientiously
through all its moods and tenses, returned to his green board in the
council-room with his proces verbal of the conference.  Before he took
his leave, however, he prevailed upon Orange to hold an interview with
the Duke of Aerschot, Count Mansfeld, and Count Egmont.

This memorable meeting took place at Willebroek, a village midway between
Antwerp and Brussels, in the first week of April.  The Duke of Aerschot
was prevented from attending, but Mansfeld and Egmont--accompanied by
the faithful Berty, to make another proces verbal--duly made their
appearance.  The Prince had never felt much sympathy with Mansfeld, but
a tender and honest friendship had always existed between himself and
Egmont, notwithstanding the difference of their characters, the incessant
artifices employed by the Spanish court to separate them, and the
impassable chasm which now, existed between their respective positions
towards the government.

The same common-places of argument and rhetoric were now discussed
between Orange and the other three personages, the, Prince distinctly
stating, in conclusion, that he considered himself as discharged from all
his offices, and that he was about to leave the Netherlands for Germany.
The interview, had it been confined to such formal conversation, would
have but little historic interest.  Egmont's choice had been made.
Several months before he had signified his determination to hold those
for enemies who should cease to conduct themselves as faithful vassals,
declared himself to be without fear that the country was to be placed in
the hands of Spaniards, and disavowed all intention, in any case
whatever, of taking arms against the King.  His subsequent course, as we
have seen, had been entirely in conformity with these solemn
declarations.  Nevertheless, the Prince, to whom they had been made,
thought it still possible to withdraw his friend from the precipice upon
which he stood, and to save him from his impending fate.  His love for
Egmont had, in his own noble; and pathetic language, "struck its roots
too deeply into his heart" to permit him, in this their parting
interview, to neglect a last effort, even if this solemn warning were
destined to be disregarded.

By any reasonable construction of history, Philip was an unscrupulous
usurper, who was attempting to convert himself from a Duke of Brabant and
a Count of Holland into an absolute king.  It was William who was
maintaining, Philip who was destroying; and the monarch who was thus
blasting the happiness of the provinces, and about to decimate their
population, was by the same process to undermine his own power forever,
and to divest himself of his richest inheritance.  The man on whom he
might have leaned for support, had he been capable of comprehending his
character, and of understanding the age in which he had himself been
called upon to reign, was, through Philip's own insanity, converted into
the instrument by which his most valuable provinces were, to be taken
from him, and eventually re-organized into: an independent commonwealth.
Could a vision, like that imagined by the immortal dramatist for another
tyrant and murderer, have revealed the future to Philip, he, too, might
have beheld his victim, not crowned himself, but pointing to a line of
kings, even to some who 'two-fold balls and treble sceptres carried', and
smiling on them for his.  But such considerations as these had no effect
upon the Prince of Orange.  He knew himself already proscribed, and he
knew that the secret condemnation had extended to Egmont also.  He was
anxious that his friend should prefer the privations of exile, with the
chance of becoming the champion of a struggling country, to the wretched
fate towards which his blind confidence was leading him.  Even then it
seemed possible that the brave soldier, who had been recently defiling
his sword in the cause of tyranny, might be come mindful of his brighter
and earlier fame.  Had Egmont been as true to his native land as, until
"the long divorce of steel fell on him," he was faithful to Philip, he
might yet have earned brighter laurels than those gained at St. Quentin
and Gravelines.  Was he doomed to fall, he might find a glorious death
upon freedom's battle-field, in place of that darker departure then so
near him, which the prophetic language of Orange depicted, but which he
was too sanguine to fear.  He spoke with confidence of the royal
clemency.  "Alas, Egmont," answered the Prince, "the King's clemency, of
which you boast, will destroy you.  Would that I might be deceived, but I
foresee too clearly that you are to be the bridge which the Spaniards
will destroy so soon as they have passed over it to invade our country."
With these last, solemn words he concluded his appeal to awaken the Count
from his fatal security.  Then, as if persuaded that he was looking upon
his friend for the last time, William of Orange threw his arms around
Egmont, and held him for a moment in a close embrace. Tears fell from the
eyes of both at this parting moment--and then the brief scene of simple
and lofty pathos terminated--Egmont and Orange separated from each other,
never to meet again on earth.

A few days afterwards, Orange addressed a letter to Philip once more
resigning all his offices, and announcing his intention of departing from
the Netherlands for Germany.  He added, that he should be always ready to
place himself and his property at the King's orders in every thing which
he believed conducive to the true service of his Majesty.  The Prince had
already received a remarkable warning from old Landgrave Philip of Hesse,
who had not forgotten the insidious manner in which his own memorable
captivity had been brought about by the arts of Granvelle and of Alva.
"Let them not smear your mouths with honey," said the Landgrave.  "If the
three seigniors, of whom the Duchess Margaret has had so much to say, are
invited to court by Alva, under pretext of friendly consultation, let
them be wary, and think twice ere they accept.  I know the Duke of Alva
and the Spaniards, and how they dealt with me."

The Prince, before he departed, took a final leave of Horn and Egmont,
by letters, which, as if aware of the monumental character they were to
assume for posterity, he drew up in Latin.  He desired, now that he was
turning his back upon the country, that those two nobles who had refused
to imitate, and had advised against his course, should remember that, he
was acting deliberately, conscientiously, and in pursuance of a long-
settled plan.

To Count Horn he declared himself unable to connive longer at the sins
daily committed against the country and his own conscience.  He assured
him that the government had been accustoming the country to panniers,
in order that it might now accept patiently the saddle and bridle.  For
himself, he said, his back was not strong enough for the weight already
imposed upon it, and he preferred to endure any calamity which might
happen to him in exile, rather than be compelled by those whom they had
all condemned to acquiesce in the object so long and steadily pursued.

He reminded Egmont, who had been urging him by letter to remain, that his
resolution had been deliberately taken, and long since communicated to
his friends.  He could not, in conscience, take the oath required; nor
would he, now that all eyes were turned upon him, remain in the land, the
only recusant.  He preferred to encounter all that could happen, rather
than attempt to please others by the sacrifice of liberty, of his
fatherland, of his own conscience.  "I hope, therefore," said he to
Egmont in conclusion, "that you, after weighing my reasons, will not
disapprove my departure.  The rest I leave to God, who will dispose of
all as may most conduce to the glory of his name.  For yourself, I pray
you to believe that you have no more sincere friend than I am.  My love
for you has struck such deep root into my heart, that it can be lessened
by no distance of time or place, and I pray you in return to maintain the
same feelings towards me which you have always cherished."

The Prince had left Antwerp upon the 11th April, and had written these
letters from Breda, upon the 13th of the same month.  Upon the 22d, he
took his departure for Dillenburg, the ancestral seat of his family in
Germany, by the way of Grave and Cleves.

It was not to be supposed that this parting message would influence
Egmont's decision with regard to his own movements, when his
determination had not been shaken at his memorable interview with the
Prince.  The Count's fate was sealed.  Had he not been praised by
Noircarmes; had he not earned the hypocritical commendations of Duchess
Margaret; nay more, had he not just received a most affectionate letter
of, thanks and approbation from the King of Spain himself?  This letter,
one of the most striking monuments of Philip's cold-blooded perfidy, was
dated the 26th of March.  "I am pleased, my cousin," wrote the monarch to
Egmont, "that you have taken the new oath, not that I considered it at
all necessary so far as regards yourself, but for the example which you
have thus given to others, and which I hope they will all follow.  I have
received not less pleasure in hearing of the excellent manner in which
you are doing your duty, the assistance you are rendering, and the offers
which you are making to my sister, for which I thank you, and request you
to continue in the same course."

The words were written by the royal hand which had already signed the
death-warrant of the man to whom they were addressed.  Alva, who came
provided with full powers to carry out the great scheme resolved upon,
unrestrained by provincial laws or by the statutes of the Golden Fleece,
had left Madrid to embark for Carthagena, at the very moment when Egmont
was reading the royal letter.  "The Spanish honey," to use once more old
Landgrave Philip's homely metaphor, had done its work, and the
unfortunate victim was already entrapped.

Count Horn remained in gloomy silence in his lair at Weert, awaiting the
hunters of men, already on their way.  It seemed inconceivable that he,
too, who knew himself suspected and disliked, should have thus blinded
himself to his position.  It will be seen, however, that the same perfidy
was to be employed to ensnare him which proved so successful with Egmont.

As for the Prince himself, he did not move too soon.  Not long after his
arrival in Germany, Vandenesse, the King's private secretary, but
Orange's secret agent, wrote him word that he had read letters from the
King to Alva in which the Duke was instructed to "arrest the Prince as
soon as he could lay hands upon him, and not to let his trial last more
than twenty-four hours."

Brederode had remained at Viane, and afterwards at Amsterdam, since the
ill-starred expedition of Tholouse, which he had organized, but at which
he had not assisted.  He had given much annoyance to the magistracy of
Amsterdam, and to all respectable persons, Calvinist or Catholic.
He made much mischief, but excited no hopes in the minds of reformers.
He was ever surrounded by a host of pot companions, swaggering nobles
disguised as sailors, bankrupt tradesmen, fugitives and outlaws of every
description, excellent people to drink the beggars' health and to bawl
the beggars' songs, but quite unfit for any serious enterprise.  People
of substance were wary of him, for they had no confidence in his
capacity, and were afraid of his frequent demands for contributions to
the patriotic cause.  He spent his time in the pleasure gardens, shooting
at the mark with arquebuss or crossbow, drinking with his comrades, and
shrieking "Vivent les gueux."

The Regent, determined to dislodge him, had sent Secretary La Torre to
him in March, with instructions that if Brederode refused to leave
Amsterdam, the magistracy were to call for assistance upon Count Meghem,
who had a regiment at Utrecht.  This clause made it impossible for La
Torre to exhibit his instructions to Brederode.  Upon his refusal, that
personage, although he knew the secretary as well as he knew his own
father, coolly informed him that he knew nothing about him; that he did
not consider him as respectable a person as he pretended to be; that he
did not believe a word of his having any commission from the Duchess,
and that he should therefore take no notice whatever of his demands.  La
Torre answered meekly, that he was not so presumptuous, nor so destitute
of sense as to put himself into comparison with a, gentleman of Count
Brederode's quality, but that as he had served as secretary to the privy
council for twenty-three years, he had thought that he might be believed
upon his word.  Hereupon La Tome drew up a formal protest, and Brederode
drew up another.  La Torre made a proces verbal of their interview, while
Brederode stormed like a madman, and abused the Duchess for a capricious
and unreasonable tyrant.  He ended by imprisoning La Torre for a day or
two, and seizing his papers.  By a singular coincidence, these events
took place on the 13th, 24th, and 15th of March, the very days of the
great Antwerp tumult.  The manner in which the Prince of Orange had been
dealing with forty or fifty thousand armed men, anxious to cut each
other's throats, while Brederode was thus occupied in browbeating a
pragmatical but decent old secretary, illustrated the difference in
calibre of the two men.

This was the Count's last exploit.  He remained at Amsterdam some weeks
longer, but the events which succeeded changed the Hector into a faithful
vassal.  Before the 12th of April, he wrote to Egmont, begging his
intercession with Margaret of Parma, and offering "carte blanche" as
to terms, if he might only be allowed to make his peace with government.
It was, however, somewhat late in the day for the "great beggar" to make
his submission.  No terms were accorded him, but he was allowed by the
Duchess to enjoy his revenues provisionally, subject to the King's
pleasure.  Upon the 25th April, he entertained a select circle of friends
at his hotel in Amsterdam, and then embarked at midnight for Embden.
A numerous procession of his adherents escorted him to the ship, bearing
lighted torches, and singing bacchanalian songs.  He died within a year
afterwards, of disappointment and hard drinking, at Castle Hardenberg,
in Germany, after all his fretting and fury, and notwithstanding his
vehement protestations to die a poor soldier at the feet of Louis
Nassau.

That "good chevalier and good Christian," as his brother affectionately
called him, was in Germany, girding himself for the manly work which
Providence had destined him to perform.  The life of Brederode, who had
engaged in the early struggle, perhaps from the frivolous expectation of
hearing himself called Count of Holland, as his ancestors had been, had
contributed nothing to the cause of freedom, nor did his death occasion
regret.  His disorderly band of followers dispersed in every direction
upon the departure of their chief.  A vessel in which Batenburg, Galaina,
and other nobles, with their men-at-arms, were escaping towards a German
port, was carried into Harlingen, while those gentlemen, overpowered by
sleep and wassail, were unaware of their danger, and delivered over to
Count Meghem, by the treachery of their pilot.  The soldiers, were
immediately hanged.  The noblemen were reserved to grace the first great
scaffold which Alva was to erect upon the horse-market in Brussels.

The confederacy was entirely broken to pieces.  Of the chieftains to whom
the people had been accustomed to look for support and encouragement,
some had rallied to the government, some were in exile, some were in
prison.  Montigny, closely watched in Spain, was virtually a captive,
pining for the young bride to whom he had been wedded amid such brilliant
festivities but a few months before his departure, and for the child
which was never to look upon its father's face.

His colleague, Marquis Berghen, more fortunate, was already dead.
The excellent Viglius seized the opportunity to put in a good word for
Noircarmes, who had been grinding Tournay in the dust, and butchering the
inhabitants of Valenciennes.  "We have heard of Berghen's death," wrote
the President to his faithful Joachim.  "The Lord of Noircarmes, who has
been his substitute in the governorship of Hainault, has given a specimen
of what he can do.  Although I have no private intimacy with that
nobleman, I can not help embracing him with all my benevolence.
Therefore, oh my Hopper, pray do your best to have him appointed
governor."

With the departure of Orange, a total eclipse seemed to come over the
Netherlands.  The country was absolutely helpless, the popular heart cold
with apprehension.  All persons at all implicated in the late troubles,
or suspected of heresy, fled from their homes.  Fugitive soldiers were
hunted into rivers, cut to pieces in the fields, hanged, burned, or
drowned, like dogs, without quarter, and without remorse.  The most
industrious and valuable part of the population left the land in droves.
The tide swept outwards with such rapidity that the Netherlands seemed
fast becoming the desolate waste which they had been before the Christian
era.  Throughout the country, those Reformers who were unable to effect
their escape betook themselves to their old lurking-places.  The new
religion was banished from all the cities, every conventicle was broken
up by armed men, the preachers and leading members were hanged, their
disciples beaten with rods, reduced to beggary, or imprisoned, even if
they sometimes escaped the scaffold.  An incredible number, however, were
executed for religious causes.  Hardly a village so small, says the
Antwerp chronicler,--[Meteren]--but that it could furnish one, two, or
three hundred victims to the executioner.  The new churches were levelled
to the ground, and out of their timbers gallows were constructed.  It was
thought an ingenious pleasantry to hang the Reformers upon the beams
under which they had hoped to worship God.  The property of the fugitives
was confiscated.  The beggars in name became beggars in reality.  Many
who felt obliged to remain, and who loved their possessions better than
their creed, were suddenly converted into the most zealous of Catholics.
Persons who had for years not gone to mass, never omitted now their daily
and nightly visits to the churches.  Persons who had never spoken to an
ecclesiastic but with contumely, now could not eat their dinners without
one at their table.  Many who were suspected of having participated in
Calvinistic rites, were foremost and loudest in putting down and
denouncing all forms and shows of the reformation.  The country was
as completely "pacified," to use the conqueror's expression, as Gaul had
been by Caesar.

The, Regent issued a fresh edict upon the 24th May, to refresh the
memories of those who might have forgotten previous statutes, which were,
however, not calculated to make men oblivious.  By this new proclamation,
all ministers and teachers were sentenced to the gallows.  All persons
who had suffered their houses to be used for religious purposes were
sentenced to the gallows.  All parents or masters whose children or
servants had attended such meetings were sentenced to the gallows, while
the children and servants were only to be beaten with rods.  All people
who sang hymns at the burial of their relations were sentenced to the
gallows.  Parents who allowed their newly-born children to be baptized by
other hands than those of the Catholic priest were sentenced to the
gallows.  The same punishment was denounced against the persons who
should christen the child or act as its sponsors.  Schoolmasters who
should teach any error or false doctrine were likewise to be punished
with death.  Those who infringed the statutes against the buying and
selling of religious books and songs were to receive the same doom;
after the first offence.  All sneers or insults against priests and
ecclesiastics were also made capital crimes.  Vagabonds, fugitives;
apostates, runaway monks, were ordered forthwith to depart from every
city on pain of death.  In all cases confiscation of the whole property
of the criminal was added to the hanging.

This edict, says a contemporary historian, increased the fear of those
professing the new religion to such an extent that they left the country
"in great heaps."  It became necessary, therefore, to issue a subsequent
proclamation forbidding all persons, whether foreigners or natives,
to leave the land or to send away their property, and prohibiting all
shipmasters, wagoners, and other agents of travel, from assisting in
the flight of such fugitives, all upon pain of death.

Yet will it be credited that the edict of 24th May, the provisions of
which have just been sketched, actually excited the wrath of Philip on
account of their clemency?  He wrote to the Duchess, expressing the pain
and dissatisfaction which he felt, that an edict so indecent, so illegal,
so contrary to the Christian religion, should have been published.
Nothing, he said, could offend or distress him more deeply, than any
outrage whatever, even the slightest one, offered to God and to His Roman
Catholic Church.  He therefore commanded his sister instantly to revoke
the edict.  One might almost imagine from reading the King's letter that
Philip was at last appalled at the horrors committed in his name.  Alas,
he was only indignant that heretics had been suffered to hang who ought
to have been burned, and that a few narrow and almost impossible
loopholes had been left through which those who had offended alight
effect their escape.

And thus, while the country is paralyzed with present and expected woe,
the swiftly advancing trumpets of the Spanish army resound from beyond
the Alps.  The curtain is falling upon the prelude to the great tragedy
which the prophetic lips of Orange had foretold.  When it is again
lifted, scenes of disaster and of bloodshed, battles, sieges, executions,
deeds of unfaltering but valiant tyranny, of superhuman and successful
resistance, of heroic self-sacrifice, fanatical courage and insane
cruelty, both in the cause of the Wrong and the Right, will be revealed
in awful succession--a spectacle of human energy, human suffering, and
human strength to suffer, such as has not often been displayed upon the
stage of the world's events.




ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

God Save the King!  It was the last time
Having conjugated his paradigm conscientiously
Indignant that heretics had been suffered to hang
Insane cruelty, both in the cause of the Wrong and the Right
Sick and wounded wretches were burned over slow fires
Slender stock of platitudes
The time for reasoning had passed
Who loved their possessions better than their creed