BOOK IV.

THE ICONOCLASTS.

The springs of this extraordinary occurrence are plainly not to be

sought for so far back as many historians affect to trace them. It is

certainly possible, and very probable, that the French Protestants did

industriously exert themselves to raise in the Netherlands a nursery for

their religion, and to prevent by all means in their power an amicable

adjustment of differences between their brethren in the faith in that

quarter and the King of Spain, in order to give that implacable foe of

their party enough to do in his own country. It is natural, therefore,

to suppose that their agents in the provinces left nothing undone to

encourage their oppressed brethren with daring hopes, to nourish their

animosity against the ruling church, and by exaggerating the oppression

under which they sighed to hurry them imperceptibly into illegal

courses. It is possible, too, that there were many among the

confederates who thought to help out their own lost cause by increasing

the number of their partners in guilt; who thought they could not

otherwise maintain the legal character of their league unless the

unfortunate results against which they had warned the king really came

to pass, and who hoped in the general guilt of all to conceal their own

individual criminality. It is, however, incredible that the outbreak of

the Iconoclasts was the fruit of a deliberate plan, preconcerted, as it

is alleged, at the convent of St. Truyen. It does not seem likely that

in a solemn assembly of so many nobles and warriors, of whom the greater

part were the adherents of popery, an individual should be found insane

enough to propose an act of positive infamy, which did not so much

injure any religious party in particular, as rather tread under foot all

respect for religion in general, and even all morality too, and which

could have been conceived only in the mind of the vilest reprobate.

Besides, this outrage was too sudden in its outbreak, too vehement in

its execution altogether, too monstrous to have been anything more than

the offspring of the moment in which it saw the light; it seemed to flow

so naturally from the circumstances which preceded it that it does not

require to be traced far back to remount to its origin.

A rude mob, consisting of the very dregs of the populace, made brutal by

harsh treatment, by sanguinary decrees which dogged them in every town,

scared from place to place and driven almost to despair, were compelled

to worship their God, and to hide like a work of darkness the universal,

sacred privilege of humanity. Before their eyes proudly rose the

temples of the dominant church, in which their haughty brethren indulged

in ease their magnificent devotion, while they themselves were driven

from the walls, expelled, too, by the weaker number perhaps, and forced,

here in the wild woods, under the burning heat of noon, in disgraceful

secrecy to worship the same God; cast out from civil society into a

state of nature, and reminded in one dread moment of the rights of that

state! The greater their superiority of numbers the more unnatural did

their lot appear; with wonder they perceive the truth. The free heaven,

the arms lying ready, the frenzy in their brains and fury in their

hearts combine to aid the suggestions of some preaching fanatic; the

occasion calls; no premeditation is necessary where all eyes at once

declare consent; the resolution is formed ere yet the word is scarcely

uttered; ready for any unlawful act, no one yet clearly knows what,

the furious band rushes onwards. The smiling prosperity of the hostile

religion insults the poverty of their own; the pomp of the authorized

temples casts contempt on their proscribed belief; every cross they set

up upon the highway, every image of the saints that they meet, is a

trophy erected over their own humiliation, and they all must be removed

by their avenging hands. Fanaticism suggests these detestable

proceedings, but base passions carry them into execution.

1566. The commencement of the attack on images took place in West

Flanders and Artois, in the districts between Lys and the sea. A

frantic herd of artisans, boatmen, and peasants, mixed with prostitutes,

beggars, vagabonds, and thieves, about three hundred in number,

furnished with clubs, axes, hammers, ladders, and cords (a few only

were provided with swords or fire arms), cast themselves, with fanatical

fury, into the villages and hamlets near St. Omer, and breaking open the

gates of such churches and cloisters as they find locked, overthrow

everywhere the altars, break to pieces the images of the saints, and

trample them under foot. With their excitement increased by its

indulgence, and reinforced by newcomers, they press on by the direct

road to Ypres, where they can count on the support of a strong body of

Calvinists. Unopposed, they break into the cathedral, and mounting on

ladders they hammer to pieces the pictures, hew down with axes the

pulpits and pews, despoil the altars of their ornaments, and steal the

holy vessels. This example was quickly followed in Menin, Comines,

Verrich, Lille, and Oudenard; in a few days the same fury spreads

through the whole of Flanders. At the very time when the first tidings

of this occurrence arrived Antwerp was swarming with a crowd of

houseless people, which the feast of the Assumption of the Virgin had

brought together in that city. Even the presence of the Prince of

Orange was hardly sufficient to restrain the licentious mob, who burned

to imitate the doings of their brethren in St. Omer; but an order from

the court which summoned him to Brussels, where the regent was just

assembling her council of state, in order to lay before them the royal

letters, obliged him to abandon Antwerp to the outrages of this band.

His departure was the signal for tumult. Apprehensive of the lawless

violence of which, on the very first day of the festival, the mob had

given indications in derisory allusions, the priests, after carrying

about the image of the Virgin for a short time, brought it for safety

to the choir, without, as formerly, setting it up in the middle of the

church. This incited some mischievous boys from among the people to pay

it a visit there, and jokingly inquire why she had so soon absented

herself from among them? Others mounting the pulpit, mimicked the

preacher, and challenged the papists to a dispute. A Roman Catholic

waterman, indignant at this jest, attempted to pull them down, and blows

were exchanged in the preacher’s seat. Similar scenes occurred on the

following evening. The numbers increased, and many came already

provided with suspicious implements and secret weapons. At last it came

into the head of one of them to cry, “Long live the Gueux!” immediately

the whole band took up the cry, and the image of the Virgin was called

upon to do the same. The few Roman Catholics who were present, and who

had given up the hope of effecting anything against these desperadoes,

left the church after locking all the doors except one. So soon as they

found themselves alone it was proposed to sing one of the psalms in the

new version, which was prohibited by the government. While they were

yet singing they all, as at a given signal, rushed furiously upon the

image of the Virgin, piercing it with swords and daggers, and striking

off its head; thieves and prostitutes tore the great wax-lights from the

altar, and lighted them to the work. The beautiful organ of the church,

a masterpiece of the art of that period, was broken to pieces, all the

paintings were effaced, the statues smashed to atoms. A crucifix, the

size of life, which was set up between the two thieves, opposite the

high altar, an ancient and highly valued piece of workmanship, was

pulled to the ground with cords, and cut to pieces with axes, while the

two malefactors at its side were respectfully spared. The holy wafers

were strewed on the ground and trodden under foot; in the wine used for

the Lord’s Supper, which was accidentally found there, the health of the

Gueux was drunk, while with the holy oil they rubbed their shoes. The

very tombs were opened, and the half-decayed corpses torn up and

trampled on. All this was done with as much wonderful regularity as if

each had previously had his part assigned to him; every one worked into

his neighbor’s hands; no one, dangerous as the work was, met with

injury; in the midst of thick darkness, which the tapers only served to

render more sensible, with heavy masses falling on all sides, and though

on the very topmost steps of the ladders, they scuffled with each other

for the honors of demolition--yet no one suffered the least injury. In

spite of the many tapers which lighted them below in their villanous

work not a single individual was recognized. With incredible rapidity

was the dark deed accomplished; a number of men, at most a hundred,

despoiled in a few hours a temple of seventy altars--after St. Peter’s

at Rome, perhaps the largest and most magnificent in Christendom.

The devastation of the cathedral did not content them; with torches and

tapers purloined from it they set out at midnight to perform a similar

work of havoc on the remaining churches, cloisters, and chapels. The

destructive hordes increased with every fresh exploit of infamy, and

thieves were allured by the opportunity. They carried away whatever

they found of value--the consecrated vessels, altar-cloths, money, and

vestments; in the cellars of the cloisters they drank to intoxication;

to escape greater indignities the monks and nuns abandoned everything to

them. The confused noises of these riotous acts had startled the

citizens from their first sleep; but night made the danger appear more

alarming than it really was, and instead of hastening to defend their

churches the citizens fortified themselves in their houses, and in

terror and anxiety awaited the dawn of morning. The rising sun at

length revealed the devastation which had been going on during the

night; but the havoc did not terminate with the darkness. Some churches

and cloisters still remained uninjured; the same fate soon overtook them

also. The work of destruction lasted three whole days. Alarmed at last

lest the frantic mob, when it could no longer find anything sacred to

destroy, should make a similar attack on lay property and plunder their

ware houses; and encouraged, too, by discovering how small was the

number of the depredators, the wealthier citizens ventured to show

themselves in arms at the doors of their houses. All the gates of the

town were locked but one, through which the Iconoclasts broke forth to

renew the same atrocities in the rural districts. On one occasion only

during all this time did the municipal officers venture to exert their

authority, so strongly were they held in awe by the superior power of

the Calvinists, by whom, as it was believed, this mob of miscreants

was hired. The injury inflicted by this work of devastation was

incalculable. In the church of the Virgin it was estimated at not less

than four hundred thousand gold florins. Many precious works of art

were destroyed; many valuable manuscripts; many monuments of importance

to history and to diplomacy were thereby lost. The city magistrate

ordered the plundered articles to be restored on pain of death; in

enforcing this restitution he was effectually assisted by the preachers

of the Reformers, who blushed for their followers. Much was in this

manner recovered, and the ringleaders of the mob, less animated,

perhaps, by the desire of plunder than by fanaticism and revenge, or

perhaps being ruled by some unseen head, resolved for the future to

guard against these excesses, and to make their attacks in regular bands

and in better order.

The town of Ghent, meanwhile, trembled for a like destiny. Immediately

on the first news of the outbreak of the Iconoclasts in Antwerp the

magistrate of the former town with the most eminent citizens had bound

themselves to repel by force the church spoilers; when this oath was

proposed to the commonalty also the voices were divided, and many

declared openly that they were by no means disposed to hinder so devout

a work. In this state of affairs the Roman Catholic clergy found it

advisable to deposit in the citadel the most precious movables of their

churches, and private families were permitted in like manner to provide

for the safety of offerings which had been made by their ancestors.

Meanwhile all the services were discontinued, the courts of justice were

closed; and, like a town in momentary danger of being stormed by the

enemy, men trembled in expectation of what was to come. At last an

insane band of rioters ventured to send delegates to the governor with

this impudent message: “They were ordered,” they said, “by their chiefs

to take the images out of the churches, as had been done in the other

towns. If they were not opposed it should be done quietly and with as

little injury as possible, but otherwise they would storm the churches;”

nay, they went so far in their audacity as to ask the aid of the

officers of justice therein. At first the magistrate was astounded at

this demand; upon reflection, however, and in the hope that the presence

of the officers of law would perhaps restrain their excesses, he did not

scruple to grant their request.

In Tournay the churches were despoiled of their ornaments within sight

of the garrison, who could not be induced to march against the

Iconoclasts. As the latter had been told that the gold and silver

vessels and other ornaments of the church were buried underground, they

turned up the whole floor, and exposed, among others, the body of the

Duke Adolph of Gueldres, who fell in battle at the head of the

rebellious burghers of Ghent, and had been buried herein Tournay. This

Adolph had waged war against his father, and had dragged the vanquished

old man some miles barefoot to prison--an indignity which Charles the

Bold afterwards retaliated on him. And now, again, after more than half

a century fate avenged a crime against nature by another against

religion; fanaticism was to desecrate that which was holy in order to

expose once more to execration the bones of a parricide. Other

Iconoclasts from Valenciennes united themselves with those of Tournay to

despoil all the cloisters of the surrounding district, during which a

valuable library, the accumulation of centuries, was destroyed by fire.

The evil soon penetrated into Brabant, also Malines, Herzogenbusch,

Breda, and Bergen-op-Zoom experienced the same fate. The provinces,

Namur and Luxemburg, with a part of Artois and of Hainault, had alone

the good fortune to escape the contagion of those outrages. In the

short period of four or five days four hundred cloisters were plundered

in Brabant and Flanders alone.

The northern Netherlands were soon seized with the same mania which had

raged so violently through the southern. The Dutch towns, Amsterdam,

Leyden, and Gravenhaag, had the alternative of either voluntarily

stripping their churches of their ornaments, or of seeing them violently

torn from there; the determination of their magistrates saved Delft,

Haarlem, Gouda, and Rotterdam from the devastation. The same acts of

violence were practised also in the islands of Zealand; the town of

Utrecht and many places in Overyssel and Groningen suffered the same

storms. Friesland was protected by the Count of Aremberg, and Gueldres

by the Count of Megen from a like fate. An exaggerated report of these

disturbances which came in from the provinces spread the alarm to

Brussels, where the regent had just made preparations for an

extraordinary session of the council of state. Swarms of Iconoclasts

already penetrated into Brabant; and the metropolis, where they were

certain of powerful support, was threatened by them with a renewal of

the same atrocities then under the very eyes of majesty. The regent, in

fear for her personal safety, which, even in the heart of the country,

surrounded by provincial governors and Knights of the Fleece, she

fancied insecure, was already meditating a flight to Mons, in Hainault,

which town the Duke of Arschot held for her as a place of refuge, that

she might not be driven to any undignified concession by falling into

the power of the Iconoclasts. In vain did the knights pledge life and

blood for her safety, and urgently beseech her not to expose them to

disgrace by so dishonorable a flight, as though they were wanting in

courage or zeal to protect their princess; to no purpose did the town of

Brussels itself supplicate her not to abandon them in this extremity,

and vainly did the council of state make the most impressive

representations that so pusillanimous a step would not fail to encourage

still more the insolence of the rebels; she remained immovable in this

desperate condition. As messenger after messenger arrived to warn her

that the Iconoclasts were advancing against the metropolis, she issued

orders to hold everything in readiness for her flight, which was to take

place quietly with the first approach of morning. At break of day the

aged Viglius presented himself before her, whom, with the view of

gratifying the nobles, she had been long accustomed to neglect. He

demanded to know the meaning of the preparations he observed, upon which

she at last confessed that she intended to make her escape, and assured

him that he would himself do well to secure his own safety by

accompanying her. “It is now two years,” said the old man to her, “that

you might have anticipated these results. Because I have spoken more

freely than your courtiers you have closed your princely ear to me,

which has been open only to pernicious suggestions.” The regent allowed

that she had been in fault, and had been blinded by an appearance of

probity; but that she was now driven by necessity. “Are you resolved,”

answered Viglius, “resolutely to insist upon obedience to the royal

commands?” “I am,” answered the duchess. “Then have recourse to the

great secret of the art of government, to dissimulation, and pretend to

join the princes until, with their assistance, you have repelled this

storm. Show them a confidence which you are far from feeling in your

heart. Make them take an oath to you that they will make common cause

in resisting these disorders. Trust those as your friends who show

themselves willing to do it; but be careful to avoid frightening away

the others by contemptuous treatment.” Viglius kept the regent engaged

in conversation until the princes arrived, who he was quite certain

would in nowise consent to her flight. When they appeared he quietly

withdrew in order to issue commands to the town council to close the

gates of the city and prohibit egress to every one connected with the

court. This last measure effected more than all the representations had

done. The regent, who saw herself a prisoner in her own capital, now

yielded to the persuasions of the nobles, who pledged themselves to

stand by her to the last drop of blood. She made Count Mansfeld

commandant of the town, who hastily increased the garrison and armed her

whole court.

The state council was now held, who finally came to a resolution that it

was expedient to yield to the emergency; to permit the preachings in

those places where they had already commenced; to make known the

abolition of the papal Inquisition; to declare the old edicts against

the heretics repealed, and before all things to grant the required

indemnity to the confederate nobles, without limitation or condition.

At the same time the Prince of Orange, Counts Egmont and Horn, with some

others, were appointed to confer on this head with the deputies of the

league. Solemnly and in the most unequivocal terms the members of the

league were declared free from all responsibility by reason of the

petition which had been presented, and all royal officers and

authorities were enjoined to act in conformity with this assurance,

and neither now nor for the future to inflict any injury upon any

of the confederates on account of the said petition. In return,

the confederates bound themselves to be true and loyal servants of

his majesty, to contribute to the utmost of their power to the

re-establishment of order and the punishment of the Iconiclasts,

to prevail on the people to lay down their arms, and to afford

active assistance to the king against internal and foreign enemies.

Securities, formally drawn up and subscribed by the plenipotentiaries

of both sides, were exchanged between them; the letter of indemnity, in

particular, was signed by the duchess with her own hand and attested by

her seal. It was only after a severe struggle, and with tears in her

eyes, that the regent, as she tremblingly confessed to the king, was at

last induced to consent to this painful step. She threw the whole blame

upon the nobles, who had kept her a prisoner in Brussels and compelled

her to it by force. Above all she complained bitterly of the Prince of

Orange.

This business accomplished, all the governors hastened to their

provinces; Egmont to Flanders, Orange to Antwerp. In the latter city

the Protestants had seized the despoiled and plundered churches, and,

as if by the rights of war, had taken possession of them. The prince

restored them to their lawful owners, gave orders for their repair, and

re-established in them the Roman Catholic form of worship. Three of the

Iconoclasts, who had been convicted, paid the penalty of their sacrilege

on the gallows; some of the rioters were banished, and many others

underwent punishment. Afterwards he assembled four deputies of each

dialect, or nations, as they were termed, and agreed with them that, as

the approaching winter made preaching in the open air impossible, three

places within the town should be granted then, where they might either

erect new churches, or convert private houses to that purpose. That

they should there perform their service every Sunday and holiday, and

always at the same hour, but on no other days. If, however, no holiday

happened in the week, Wednesday should be kept by them instead. No

religious party should maintain more than two clergymen, and these must

be native Netherlanders, or at least have received naturalization from

some considerable town of the provinces. All should take an oath to

submit in civil matters to the municipal authorities and the Prince of

Orange. They should be liable, like the other citizens, to all imposts.

No one should attend sermons armed; a sword, however, should be allowed

to each. No preacher should assail the ruling religion from the pulpit,

nor enter upon controverted points, beyond what the doctrine itself

rendered unavoidable, or what might refer to morals. No psalm should be

sung by them out of their appointed district. At the election of their

preachers, churchwardens, and deacons, as also at all their other

consistorial meetings, a person from the government should on each

occasion be present to report their proceedings to the prince and the

magistrate. As to all other points they should enjoy the same

protection as the ruling religion. This arrangement was to hold good

until the king, with consent of the states, should determine otherwise;

but then it should be free to every one to quit the country with his

family and his property. From Antwerp the prince hastened to Holland,

Zealand, and Utrecht, in order to make there similar arrangements for

the restoration of peace; Antwerp, however, was, during his absence,

entrusted to the superintendence of Count Howstraten, who was a mild

man, and although an adherent of the league, had never failed in loyalty

to the king. It is evident that in this agreement the prince had far

overstepped the powers entrusted to him, and though in the service of

the king had acted exactly like a sovereign lord. But he alleged in

excuse that it would be far easier to the magistrate to watch these

numerous and powerful sects if he himself interfered in their worship,

and if this took place under his eyes, than if he were to leave the

sectarians to themselves in the open air.

In Gueldres Count Megen showed more severity, and entirely suppressed

the Protestant sects and banished all their preachers. In Brussels the

regent availed herself of the advantage derived from her personal

presence to put a stop to the public preaching, even outside the town.

When, in reference to this, Count Nassau reminded her in the name of the

confederates of the compact which had been entered into, and demanded if

the town of Brussels had inferior rights to the other towns? she

answered, if there were public preachings in Brussels before the treaty,

it was not her work if they were now discontinued. At the same time,

however, she secretly gave the citizens to understand that the first who

should venture to attend a public sermon should certainly be hung. Thus

she kept the capital at least faithful to her.

It was more difficult to quiet Tournay, which office was committed to

Count Horn, in the place of Montigny, to whose government the town

properly belonged. Horn commanded the Protestants to vacate the

churches immediately, and to content themselves with a house of worship

outside the walls. To this their preachers objected that the churches

were erected for the use of the people, by which terms, they said, not

the heads but the majority were meant. If they were expelled from the

Roman Catholic churches it was at least fair that they should be

furnished with money for erecting churches of their own. To this the

magistrate replied even if the Catholic party was the weaker it was

indisputably the better. The erection of churches should not be

forbidden them; they could not, however, after the injury which the town

had already suffered from their brethren, the Iconoclasts, very well

expect that it should be further burdened by the erection of their

churches. After long quarrelling on both sides, the Protestants

contrived to retain possession of some churches, which, for greater

security, they occupied with guards. In Valenciennes, too, the

Protestants refused submission to the conditions which were offered to

them through Philip St. Aldegonde, Baron of Noircarmes, to whom, in the

absence of the Marquis of Bergen, the government of that place was

entrusted. A reformed preacher, La Grange, a Frenchman by birth, who by

his eloquence had gained a complete command over them, urged them to

insist on having churches of their own within the town, and to threaten

in case of refusal to deliver it up to the Huguenots. A sense of the

superior numbers of the Calvinists, and of their understanding with the

Huguenots, prevented the governor adopting forcible measures against

them.

Count Egmont, also to manifest his zeal for the king’s service, did

violence to his natural kind-heartedness. Introducing a garrison into

the town of Ghent, he caused some of the most refractory rebels to be

put to death. The churches were reopened, the Roman Catholic worship

renewed, and all foreigners, without exception, ordered to quit the

province. To the Calvinists, but to them alone, a site was granted

outside the town for the erection of a church. In return they were

compelled to pledge themselves to the most rigid obedience to the

municipal authorities, and to active co-operation in the proceedings

against the Iconoclasts. He pursued similar measures through all

Flanders and Artois. One of his noblemen, John Cassembrot, Baron of

Beckerzeel, and a leaguer, pursuing the Iconoclasts at the head of some

horsemen of the league, surprised a band of them just as they were about

to break into a town of Hainault, near Grammont, in Flanders, and took

thirty of them prisoners, of whom twenty-two were hung upon the spot,

and the rest whipped out of the province.

Services of such importance one would have thought scarcely deserved to

be rewarded with the displeasure of the king; what Orange, Egmont, and

Horn performed on this occasion evinced at least as much zeal and had

as beneficial a result as anything that was accomplished by Noircarmes,

Megen, and Aremberg, to whom the king vouchsafed to show his gratitude

both by words and deeds. But their zeal, their services came too late.

They had spoken too loudly against his edicts, had been too vehement in

their opposition to his measures, had insulted him too grossly in the

person of his minister Granvella, to leave room for forgiveness. No

time, no repentance, no atonement, however great, could efface this one

offence from the memory of their sovereign.

Philip lay sick at Segovia when the news of the outbreak of the

Iconoclasts and the uncatholic agreement entered into with the Reformers

reached him. At the same time the regent renewed her urgent entreaty

for his personal visit, of which also all the letters treated, which the

President Viglius exchanged with his friend Hopper. Many also of the

Belgian nobles addressed special letters to the king, as, for instance,

Egmont, Mansfeld, Megen, Aremberg, Noircarmes, and Barlaimont, in which

they reported the state of their provinces, and at once explained and

justified the arrangements they had made with the disaffected. Just at

this period a letter arrived from the German Emperor, in which he

recommended Philip to act with clemency towards his Belgian subjects,

and offered his mediation in the matter. He had also written direct to

the regent herself in Brussels, and added letters to the several leaders

of the nobility, which, however, were never delivered. Having conquered

the first anger which this hateful occurrence had excited, the king

referred the whole matter to his council.

The party of Granvella, which had the preponderance in the council, was

diligent in tracing a close connection between the behavior of the

Flemish nobles and the excesses of the church desecrators, which showed

itself in similarity of the demands of both parties, and especially the

time which the latter chose for their outbreak. In the same month,

they observed, in which the nobles had sent in their three articles of

pacification, the Iconoclasts had commenced their work; on the evening

of the very day that Orange quitted Antwerp the churches too were

plundered. During the whole tumult not a finger was lifted to take up

arms; all the expedients employed were invariably such as turned to the

advantage of the sects, while, on the contrary, all others were

neglected which tended to the maintenance of the pure faith. Many of

the Iconoclasts, it was further said, had confessed that all that they

had done was with the knowledge and consent of the princes; though

surely nothing was more natural, than for such worthless wretches to

seek to screen with great names a crime which they had undertaken solely

on their own account. A writing also was produced in which the high

nobility were made to promise their services to the “Gueux,” to procure

the assembly of the states general, the genuineness of which, however,

the former strenuously denied. Four different seditious parties were,

they said, to be noticed in the Netherlands, which were all more or

less connected with one another, and all worked towards a common end.

One of these was those bands of reprobates who desecrated the churches;

a second consisted of the various sects who had hired the former to

perform their infamous acts; the “Gueux,” who had raised themselves to

be the defenders of the sects were the third; and the leading nobles who

were inclined to the “Gueux” by feudal connections, relationship, and

friendship, composed the fourth. All, consequently, were alike fatally

infected, and all equally guilty. The government had not merely to

guard against a few isolated members; it had to contend with the whole

body. Since, then, it was ascertained that the people were the seduced

party, and the encouragement to rebellion came from higher quarters, it

would be wise and expedient to alter the plan hitherto adopted, which

now appeared defective in several respects. Inasmuch as all classes had

been oppressed without distinction, and as much of severity shown to the

lower orders as of contempt to the nobles, both had been compelled to

lend support to one another; a party had been given to the latter and

leaders to the former. Unequal treatment seemed an infallible expedient

to separate them; the mob, always timid and indolent when not goaded by

the extremity of distress, would very soon desert its adored protectors

and quickly learn to see in their fate well-merited retribution if only

it was not driven to share it with them. It was therefore proposed to

the king to treat the great multitude for the future with more leniency,

and to direct all measures of severity against the leaders of the

faction. In order, however, to avoid the appearance of a disgraceful

concession, it was considered advisable to accept the mediation of the

Emperor, and to impute to it alone and not to the justice of their

demands, that the king out of pure generosity had granted to his Belgian

subjects as much as they asked.

The question of the king’s personal visit to the provinces was now again

mooted, and all the difficulties which had formerly been raised on this

head appeared to vanish before the present emergency. “Now,” said

Tyssenacque and Hopper, “the juncture has really arrived at which the

king, according to his own declaration formerly made to Count Egmont,

will be ready to risk a thousand lives. To restore quiet to Ghent

Charles V. had undertaken a troublesome and dangerous journey through an

enemy’s country. This was done for the sake of a single town; and now

the peace, perhaps even the possession, of all the United Provinces was

at stake.” This was the opinion of the majority; and the journey of the

king was looked upon as a matter from which he could not possibly any

longer escape.

The question now was, whether he should enter upon it with a numerous

body of attendants or with few; and here the Prince of Eboli and Count

Figueroa were at issue with the Duke of Alva, as their private interests

clashed. If the king journeyed at the head of an army the presence of

the Duke of Alva would be indispensable, who, on the other hand, if

matters were peaceably adjusted, would be less required, and must make

room for his rivals. “An army,” said Figueroa, who spoke first, “would

alarm the princes through whose territories it must march, and perhaps

even be opposed by them; it would, moreover, unnecessarily burden the

provinces for whose tranquillization it was intended, and add a new

grievance to the many which had already driven the people to such

lengths. It would press indiscriminately upon all of the king’s

subjects, whereas a court of justice, peaceably administering its

office, would observe a marked distinction between the innocent and

the guilty. The unwonted violence of the former course would tempt the

leaders of the faction to take a more alarming view of their behavior,

in which wantonness and levity had the chief share, and consequently

induce them to proceed with deliberation and union; the thought of

having forced the king to such lengths would plunge them into despair,

in which they would be ready to undertake anything. If the king placed

himself in arms against the rebels he would forfeit the most important

advantage which he possessed over them, namely, his authority as

sovereign of the country, which would prove the more powerful in

proportion as he showed his reliance upon that alone. He would place

himself thereby, as it were, on a level with the rebels, who on their

side would not be at a loss to raise an army, as the universal hatred of

the Spanish forces would operate in their favor with the nation. By

this procedure the king would exchange the certain advantage which his

position as sovereign of the country conferred upon him for the

uncertain result of military operations, which, result as they might,

would of necessity destroy a portion of his own subjects. The rumor of

his hostile approach would outrun him time enough to allow all who were

conscious of a bad cause to place themselves in a posture of defence,

and to combine and render availing both their foreign and domestic

resources. Here again the general alarm would do them important

service; the uncertainty who would be the first object of this warlike

approach would drive even the less guilty to the general mass of the

rebels, and force those to become enemies to the king who otherwise

would never have been so. If, however, he was coming among them without

such a formidable accompaniment; if his appearance was less that of a

sanguinary judge than of an angry parent, the courage of all good men

would rise, and the bad would perish in their own security. They would

persuade themselves what had happened was unimportant; that it did not

appear to the king of sufficient moment to call for strong measures.

They wished if they could to avoid the chance of ruining, by acts of

open violence, a cause which might perhaps yet be saved; consequently,

by this quiet, peaceable method everything would be gained which by the

other would be irretrievably lost; the loyal subject would in no degree

be involved in the same punishment with the culpable rebel; on the

latter alone would the whole weight of the royal indignation descend.

Lastly, the enormous expenses would be avoided which the transport of a

Spanish army to those distant regions would occasion.

“But,” began the Duke of Alva, “ought the injury of some few citizens to

be considered when danger impends over the whole? Because a few of the

loyally-disposed may suffer wrong are the rebels therefore not to be

chastised? The offence has been universal, why then should not the

punishment be the same? What the rebels have incurred by their actions

the rest have incurred equally by their supineness. Whose fault is it

but theirs that the former have so far succeeded? Why did they not

promptly oppose their first attempts? It is said that circumstances

were not so desperate as to justify this violent remedy; but who will

insure us that they will not be so by the time the king arrives,

especially when, according to every fresh despatch of the regent, all is

hastening with rapid strides to a-ruinous consummation? Is it a hazard

we ought to run to leave the king to discover on his entrance into the

provinces the necessity of his having brought with him a military force?

It is a fact only too well-established that the rebels have secured

foreign succors, which stand ready at their command on the first signal;

will it then be time to think of preparing for war when the enemy pass

the frontiers? Is it a wise risk to rely for aid upon the nearest

Belgian troops when their loyalty is so little to be depended upon? And

is not the regent perpetually reverting in her despatches to the fact

that nothing but the want of a suitable military force has hitherto

hindered her from enforcing the edicts, and stopping the progress of the

rebels? A well-disciplined and formidable army alone will disappoint

all their hopes of maintaining themselves in opposition to their lawful

sovereign, and nothing but the certain prospect of destruction will make

them lower their demands. Besides, without an adequate force, the king

cannot venture his person in hostile countries; he cannot enter into any

treaties with his rebellious subjects which would not be derogatory to

his honor.”

The authority of the speaker gave preponderance to his arguments, and

the next question was, when the king should commence his journey and

what road he should take. As the voyage by sea was on every account

extremely hazardous, he had no other alternative but either to proceed

thither through the passes near Trent across. Germany, or to penetrate

from Savoy over the Apennine Alps. The first route would expose him to

the danger of the attack of the German Protestants, who were not likely

to view with indifference the objects of his journey, and a passage over

the Apennines was at this late season of the year not to be attempted.

Moreover, it would be necessary to send for the requisite galleys from

Italy, and repair them, which would take several months. Finally, as

the assembly of the Cortes of Castile, from which he could not well be

absent, was already appointed for December, the journey could not be

undertaken before the spring. Meanwhile the regent pressed for explicit

instructions how she was to extricate herself from her present

embarrassment, without compromising the royal dignity too far; and it

was necessary to do something in the interval till the king could

undertake to appease the troubles by his personal presence. Two

separate letters were therefore despatched to the duchess; one public,

which she could lay before the states and the council chambers, and one

private, which was intended for herself alone. In the first, the king

announced to her his restoration to health, and the fortunate birth of

the Infanta Clara Isabella Eugenia, afterwards wife of the Archduke

Albert of Austria and Princess of the Netherlands. He declared to her

his present firm intention to visit the Netherlands in person, for which

he was already making the necessary preparations. The assembling of the

states he refused, as he had previously done. No mention was made in

this letter of the agreement which she had entered into with the

Protestants and with the league, because he did not deem it advisable at

present absolutely to reject it, and he was still less disposed to

acknowledge its validity. On the other hand, he ordered her to

reinforce the army, to draw together new regiments from Germany, and to

meet the refractory with force. For the rest, he concluded, he relied

upon the loyalty of the leading nobility, among whom he knew many who

were sincere in their attachment both to their religion and their king.

In the secret letter she was again enjoined to do all in her power to

prevent the assembling of the states; but if the general voice should

become irresistible, and she was compelled to yield, she was at least to

manage so cautiously that the royal dignity should not suffer, and no

one learn the king’s consent to their assembly.

While these consultations were held in Spain the Protestants in the

Netherlands made the most extensive use of the privileges which had been

compulsorily granted to them. The erection of churches wherever it was

permitted was completed with incredible rapidity; young and old, gentle

and simple, assisted in carrying stones; women sacrificed even their

ornaments in order to accelerate the work. The two religious parties

established in several towns consistories, and a church council of their

own, the first move of the kind being made in Antwerp, and placed their

form of worship on a well-regulated footing. It was also proposed to

raise a common fund by subscription to meet any sudden emergency of the

Protestant church in general. In Antwerp a memorial was presented by

the Calvinists of that town to the Count of Hogstraten, in which they

offered to pay three millions of dollars to secure the free exercise of

their religion. Many copies of this writing were circulated in the

Netherlands; and in order to stimulate others, many had ostentatiously

subscribed their names to large sums. Various interpretations of this

extravagant offer were made by the enemies of the Reformers, and all had

some appearance of reason. For instance, it was urged that under the

pretext of collecting the requisite sum for fulfilling this engagement

they hoped, without suspicion, to raise funds for military purposes; for

whether they should be called upon to contribute for or against they

would, it was thought, be more ready to burden themselves with a view of

preserving peace than for an oppressive and devasting war. Others saw

in this offer nothing more than a temporary stratagem of the Protestants

by which they hoped to bind the court and keep it irresolute until they

should have gained sufficient strength to confront it. Others again

declared it to be a downright bravado in order to alarm the regent, and

to raise the courage of their own party by the display of such rich

resources. But whatever was the true motive of this proposition, its

originators gained little by it; the contributions flowed in scantily

and slowly, and the court answered the proposal with silent contempt.

The excesses, too, of the Iconoclasts, far from promoting the cause of

the league and advancing the Protestants interests, had done irreparable

injury to both. The sight of their ruined churches, which, in the

language of Viglius, resembled stables more than houses of God, enraged

the Roman Catholics, and above all the clergy. All of that religion,

who had hitherto been members of the league, now forsook it, alleging

that even if it had not intentionally excited and encouraged the

excesses of the Iconoclasts it had beyond question remotely led to them.

The intolerance of the Calvinists who, wherever they were the ruling

party, cruelly oppressed the Roman Catholics, completely expelled the

delusion in which the latter had long indulged, and they withdrew their

support from a party from which, if they obtained the upper hand, their

own religion had so much cause to fear. Thus the league lost many of

its best members; the friends and patrons, too, which it had hitherto

found amongst the well-disposed citizens now deserted it, and its

character began perceptibly to decline. The severity with which some of

its members had acted against the Iconoclasts in order to prove their

good disposition towards the regent, and to remove the suspicion of any

connection with the malcontents, had also injured them with the people

who favored the latter, and thus the league was in danger of ruining

itself with both parties at the same time. The regent had no sooner

became acquainted with this change in the public mind than she devised a

plan by which she hoped gradually to dissolve the whole league, or at

least to enfeeble it through internal dissensions. For this end she

availed herself of the private letters which the king had addressed to

some of the nobles, and enclosed to her with full liberty to use them at

her discretion. These letters, which overflowed with kind expressions

were presented to those for whom they were intended, with an attempt at

secrecy, which designedly miscarried, so that on each occasion some one

or other of those who had received nothing of the sort got a hint of

them. In order to spread suspicion the more widely numerous copies of

the letters were circulated. This artifice attained its object. Many

members of the league began to doubt the honesty of those to whom such

brilliant promises were made; through fear of being deserted by their

principal members and supporters, they eagerly accepted the conditions

which were offered them by the regent, and evinced great anxiety for a

speedy reconciliation with the court. The general rumor of the

impending visit of the king, which the regent took care to have widely

circulated, was also of great service to her in this matter; many who

could not augur much good to themselves from the royal presence did not

hesitate to accept a pardon, which, perhaps, for what they could tell,

was offered them for the last time. Among those who thus received

private letters were Egmont and Prince of Orange. Both had complained

to the king of the evil reports with which designing persons in Spain

had labored to brand their names, and to throw suspicion on their

motives and intentions; Egmont, in particular, with the honest

simplicity which was peculiar to his character, had asked the monarch

only to point out to him what he most desired, to determine the

particular action by which his favor could be best obtained and zeal in

his service evinced, and it should, he assured him, be done. The king

in reply caused the president, Von Tyssenacque, to tell him that he

could do nothing better to refute his traducers than to show perfect

submission to the royal orders, which were so clearly and precisely

drawn up, that no further exposition of them was required, nor any

particular instruction. It was the sovereign’s part to deliberate, to

examine, and to decide; unconditionally to obey was the duty of the

subject; the honor of the latter consisted in his obedence. It did not

become a member to hold itself wiser than the head. He was assuredly to

be blamed for not having done his utmost to curb the unruliness of his

sectarians; but it was even yet in his power to make up for past

negligence by at least maintaining peace and order until the actual

arrival of the king. In thus punishing Count Egmont with reproofs like

a disobedient child, the king treated him in accordance with what he

knew of his character; with his friend he found it necessary to call in

the aid of artifice and deceit. Orange, too, in his letter, had alluded

to the suspicions which the king entertained of his loyalty and

attachment, but not, like Egmont, in the vain hope of removing them; for

this, he had long given up; but in order to pass from these complaints

to a request for permission to resign his offices. He had already

frequently made this request to the regent, but had always received from

her a refusal, accompanied with the strongest assurance of her regard.

The king also, to whom he now at last addressed a direct application,

returned him the same answer, graced with similar strong assurances of

his satisfaction and gratitude. In particular he expressed the high

satisfaction he entertained of his services, which he had lately

rendered the crown in Antwerp, and lamented deeply that the private

affairs of the prince (which the latter had made his chief plea for

demanding his dismissal) should have fallen into such disorder; but

ended with the declaration that it was impossible for him to dispense

with his valuable services at a crisis which demanded the increase,

rather than diminution, of his good and honest servants. He had

thought, he added, that the prince entertained a better opinion of him

than to suppose him capable of giving credit to the idle talk of certain

persons, who were friends neither to the prince nor to himself. But, at

the same time, to give him a proof of his sincerity, he complained to

him in confidence of his brother, the Count of Nassau, pretended to ask

his advice in the matter, and finally expressed a wish to have the count

removed for a period from the Netherlands.

But Philip had here to do with a head which in cunning was superior to

his own. The Prince of Orange had for a long time held watch over him

and his privy council in Madrid and Segovia, through a host of spies,

who reported to him everything of importance that was transacted there.

The court of this most secret of all despots had become accessible to

his intriguing spirit and his money; in this manner he had gained

possession of several autograph letters of the regent, which she had

secretly written to Madrid, and had caused copies to be circulated in

triumph in Brussels, and in a measure under her own eyes, insomuch that

she saw with astonishment in everybody’s hands what she thought was

preserved with so much care, and entreated the king for the future to

destroy her despatches immediately they were read. William’s vigilance

did not confine itself simply to the court of Spain; he had spies in

France, and even at more distant courts. He is also charged with not

being over scrupulous as to the means by which he acquired his

intelligence. But the most important disclosure was made by an

intercepted letter of the Spanish ambassador in France, Francis Von

Alava, to the duchess, in which the former descanted on the fair

opportunity which was now afforded to the king, through the guilt of

the Netherlandish people, of establishing an arbitrary power in that

country. He therefore advised her to deceive the nobles by the very

arts which they had hitherto employed against herself, and to secure

them through smooth words and an obliging behavior. The king, he

concluded, who knew the nobles to be the hidden springs of all the

previous troubles, would take good care to lay hands upon them at the

first favorable opportunity, as well as the two whom he had already in

Spain; and did not mean to let them go again, having sworn to make an

example in them which should horrify the whole of Christendom, even if

it should cost him his hereditary dominions. This piece of evil news

was strongly corroborated by the letters which Bergen and Montigny wrote

from Spain, and in which they bitterly complained of the contemptuous

behavior of the grandees and the altered deportment of the monarch

towards them; and the Prince of Orange was now fully sensible what he

had to expect from the fair promises of the king.

The letter of the minister, Alava, together with some others from Spain,

which gave a circumstantial account of the approaching warlike visit of

the king, and of his evil intentions against the nobles, was laid by the

prince before his brother, Count Louis of Nassau, Counts Egmont, Horn,

and Hogstraten, at a meeting at Dendermonde in Flanders, whither these

five knights had repaired to confer on the measures necessary for their

security. Count Louis, who listened only to his feelings of

indignation, foolhardily maintained that they ought, without loss of

time, to take up arms and seize some strongholds. That they ought at

all risks to prevent the king’s armed entrance into the provinces. That

they should endeavor to prevail on the Swiss, the Protestant princes of

Germany, and the Huguenots to arm and obstruct his passage through their

territories; and if, notwithstanding, he should force his way through

these impediments, that the Flemings should meet him with an army on the

frontiers. He would take upon himself to negotiate a defensive alliance

in France, in Switzerland, and in Germany, and to raise in the latter

empire four thousand horse, together with a proportionate body of

infantry. Pretexts would not be wanting for collecting the requisite

supplies of money, and the merchants of the reformed sect would, he felt

assured, not fail them. But William, more cautious and more wise,

declared himself against this proposal, which, in the execution, would

be exposed to numberless difficulties, and had as yet nothing to justify

it. The Inquisition, he represented, was in fact abolished, the edicts

were nearly sunk into oblivion, and a fair degree of religious liberty

accorded. Hitherto, therefore, there existed no valid or adequate

excuse for adopting this hostile method; he did not doubt, however,

that one would be presented to them before long, and in good time for

preparation. His own opinion consequently was that they should await

this opportunity with patience, and in the meanwhile still keep a

watchful eye upon everything, and contrive to give the people a hint of

the threatened danger, that they might be ready to act if circumstances

should call for their co-operation. If all present had assented to the

opinion of the Prince of Orange, there is no doubt but so powerful a

league, formidable both by the influence and the high character of its

members, would have opposed obstacles to the designs of the king which

would have compelled him to abandon them entirely. But the

determination of the assembled knights was much shaken by the

declaration with which Count Egmont surprised them. “Rather,” said he,

“may all that is evil befall me than that I should tempt fortune so

rashly. The idle talk of the Spaniard, Alava, does not move me; how

should such a person be able to read the mind of a sovereign so reserved

as Philip, and to decipher his secrets? The intelligence which Montigny

gives us goes to prove nothing more than that the king has a very

doubtful opinion of our zeal for his service, and believes he has cause

to distrust our loyalty; and for this I for my part must confess that

we have given him only too much cause. And it is my serious purpose,

by redoubling my zeal, to regain his good opinion, and by my future

behavior to remove, if possible, the distrust which my actions have

hitherto excited. How could I tear myself from the arms of my numerous

and dependent family to wander as an exile at foreign courts, a burden

to every one who received me, the slave of every one who condescended to

assist me, a servant of foreigners, in order to escape a slight degree

of constraint at home? Never can the monarch act unkindly towards a

servant who was once beloved and dear to him, and who has established a

well-grounded claim to his gratitude. Never shall I be persuaded that

he who has expressed such favorable, such gracious sentiments towards

his Belgian subjects, and with his own mouth gave me such emphatic,

such solemn assurances, can be now devising, as it is pretended, such

tyrannical schemes against them. If we do but restore to the country

its former repose, chastise the rebels, and re-establish the Roman

Catholic form of worship wherever it has been violently suppressed,

then, believe me, we shall hear no more of Spanish troops. This is the

course to which I now invite you all by my counsel and my example, and

to which also most of our brethren already incline. I, for my part,

fear nothing from the anger of the king. My conscience acquits me.

I trust my fate and fortunes to his justice and clemency.” In vain did

Nassau, Horn, and Orange labor to shake his resolution, and to open his

eyes to the near and inevitable danger. Egmont was really attached to

the king; the royal favors, and the condescension with which they were

conferred, were still fresh in his remembrance. The attentions with

which the monarch had distinguished him above all his friends had not

failed of their effect. It was more from false shame than from party

spirit that he had defended the cause of his countrymen against him;

more from temperament and natural kindness of heart than from tried

principles that he had opposed the severe measures of the government.

The love of the nation, which worshipped him as its idol, carried him

away. Too vain to renounce a title which sounded so agreeable, he had

been compelled to do something to deserve it; but a single look at his

family, a harsher designation applied to his conduct, a dangerous

inference drawn from it, the mere sound of crime, terrified him from his

self-delusion, and scared him back in haste and alarm to his duty.

Orange’s whole plan was frustrated by Egmont’s withdrawal. The latter

possessed the hearts of the people and the confidence of the army,

without which it was utterly impossible to undertake anything effective.

The rest had reckoned with so much certainty upon him that his

unexpected defection rendered the whole meeting nugatory. They

therefore separated without coming to a determination. All who had met

in Dendermonde were expected in the council of state in Brussels; but

Egmont alone repaired thither. The regent wished to sift him on the

subject of this conference, but she could extract nothing further from

him than the production of the letter of Alava, of which he had

purposely taken a copy, and which, with the bitterest reproofs, he laid

before her. At first she changed color at sight of it, but quickly

recovering herself, she boldly declared that it was a forgery. “How can

this letter,” she said, “really come from Alava, when I miss none? And

would he who pretends to have intercepted it have spared the other

letters? Nay, how can it be true, when not a single packet has

miscarried, nor a single despatch failed to come to hand? How, too,

can it be thought likely that the king would have made Alava master

of a secret which he has not communicated even to me?”

CIVIL WAR

1566. Meanwhile the regent hastened to take advantage of the schism

amongst the nobles to complete the ruin of the league, which was already

tottering under the weight of internal dissensions. Without loss of

time she drew from Germany the troops which Duke Eric of Brunswick was

holding in readiness, augmented the cavalry, and raised five regiments

of Walloons, the command of which she gave to Counts Mansfeld, Megen,

Aremberg, and others. To the prince, likewise, she felt it necessary to

confide troops, both because she did not wish, by withholding them

pointedly, to insult him, and also because the provinces of which he was

governor were in urgent need of them; but she took the precaution of

joining with him a Colonel Waldenfinger, who should watch all his steps

and thwart his measures if they appeared dangerous. To Count Egmont the

clergy in Flanders paid a contribution of forty thousand gold florins

for the maintenance of fifteen hundred men, whom he distributed among

the places where danger was most apprehended. Every governor was

ordered to increase his military force, and to provide himself with

ammunition. These energetic preparations, which were making in all

places, left no doubt as to the measures which the regent would adopt in

future. Conscious of her superior force, and certain of this important

support, she now ventured to change her tone, and to employ quite

another language with the rebels. She began to put the most arbitrary

interpretation on the concessions which, through fear and necessity, she

had made to the Protestants, and to restrict all the liberties which she

had tacitly granted them to the mere permission of their preaching. All

other religious exercises and rites, which yet appeared to be involved

in the former privilege, were by new edicts expressly forbidden, and all

offenders in such matters were to be proceeded against as traitors. The

Protestants were permitted to think differently from the ruling church

upon the sacrament, but to receive it differently was a crime; baptism,

marriage, burial, after their fashion, were probibited under pain of

death. It was a cruel mockery to allow them their religion, and forbid

the exercise of it; but this mean artifice of the regent to escape from

the obligation of her pledged word was worthy of the pusillanimity with

which she had submitted to its being extorted from her. She took

advantage of the most trifling innovations and the smallest excesses to

interrupt the preachings; and some of the preachers, under the charge of

having performed their office in places not appointed to them, were

brought to trial, condemned, and executed. On more than one occasion

the regent publicly declared that the confederates had taken unfair

advantage of her fears, and that she did not feel herself bound by an

engagement which had been extorted from her by threats.

Of all the Belgian towns which had participated in the insurrection of

the Iconoclasts none had caused the regent so much alarm as the town of

Valenciennes, in Hainault. In no other was the party of the Calvinists

so powerful, and the spirit of rebellion for which the province of

Hainault had always made itself conspicuous, seemed to dwell here as in

its native place. The propinquity of France, to which, as well by

language as by manners, this town appeared to belong, rather than to the

Netherlands, had from the first led to its being governed with great

mildness and forbearance, which, however, only taught it to feel its own

importance. At the last outbreak of the church-desecrators it had been

on the point of surrendering to the Huguenots, with whom it maintained

the closest understanding. The slightest excitement night renew this

danger. On this account Valenciennes was the first town to which the

regent proposed, as soon as should be in her power, to send a strong

garrison. Philip of Noircarmes, Baron of St. Aldegonde, Governor of

Hainault in the place of the absent Marquis of Bergen, had received this

charge, and now appeared at the head of an army before its walls.

Deputies came to meet him on the part of the magistrate from the town,

to petition against the garrison, because the Protestant citizens, who

were the superior number, had declared against it. Noircarnes

acquainted them with the will of the regent, and gave them the choice

between the garrison or a siege. He assured them that not more than

four squadrons of horse and six companies of foot should be imposed upon

the town; and for this he would give them his son as a hostage. These

terms were laid before the magistrate, who, for his part, was much

inclined to accept them. But Peregrine Le Grange, the preacher, and the

idol of the populace, to whom it was of vital importance to prevent a

submission of which he would inevitably become the victim, appeared at

the head of his followers, and by his powerful eloquence excited the

people to reject the conditions. When their answer was brought to

Noircarmes, contrary to all law of nations, he caused the messengers to

be placed in irons, and carried them away with him as prisoners; he was,

however, by express command of the regent, compelled to set them free

again. The regent, instructed by secret orders from Madrid to exercise

as much forbearance as possible, caused the town to be repeatedly

summoned to receive the garrison; when, however, it obstinately

persisted in its refusal, it was declared by public edict to be in

rebellion, and Noircarmes was authorized to commence the siege in form.

The other provinces were forbidden to assist this rebellious town with

advice, money, or arms. All the property contained in it was

confiscated. In order to let it see the war before it began in earnest,

and to give it time for rational reflection, Noircarmes drew together

troops from all Hainault and Cambray (1566), took possession of St.

Amant, and placed garrisons in all adjacent places.

The line of conduct adopted towards Valenciennes allowed the other towns

which were similarly situated to infer the fate which was intended for

them also, and at once put the whole league in motion. An army of the

Gueux, between three thousand and four thousand strong, which was

hastily collected from the rabble of fugitives, and the remaining bands

of the Iconoclasts, appeared in the territories of Tournay and Lille, in

order to secure these two towns, and to annoy the enemy at Valenciennes.

The commandant of Lille was fortunate enough to maintain that place by

routing a detachment of this army, which, in concert with the Protestant

inhabitants, had made an attempt to get possession of it. At the same

time the army of the Gueux, which was uselessly wasting its time at

Lannoy, was surprised by Noircarmes and almost entirely annihilated.

The few who with desperate courage forced their way through the enemy,

threw themselves into the town of Tournay, which was immediately

summoned by the victor to open its gates and admit a garrison. Its

prompt obedience obtained for it a milder fate. Noircarmes contented

himself with abolishing the Protestant consistory, banishing the

preachers, punishing the leaders of the rebels, and again

re-establishing the Roman Catholic worship, which he found almost

entirely suppressed. After giving it a steadfast Roman Catholic as

governor, and leaving in it a sufficient garrison, he again returned

with his victorious army to Valenciennes to press the siege.

This town, confident in its strength, actively prepared for defence,

firmly resolved to allow things to come to extremes before it

surrendered. The inhabitants had not neglected to furnish themselves

with ammunition and provisions for a long siege; all who could carry

arms (the very artisans not excepted), became soldiers; the houses

before the town, and especially the cloisters, were pulled down, that

the besiegers might not avail themselves of them to cover their attack.

The few adherents of the crown, awed by the multitude, were silent; no

Roman Catholic ventured to stir himself. Anarchy and rebellion had

taken the place of good order, and the fanaticism of a foolhardy priest

gave laws instead of the legal dispensers of justice. The male

population was numerous, their courage confirmed by despair, their

confidence unbounded that the siege would be raised, while their hatred

against the Roman Catholic religion was excited to the highest pitch.

Many had no mercy to expect; all abhorred the general thraldom of an

imperious garrison. Noircarmes, whose army had become formidable

through the reinforcements which streamed to it from all quarters, and

was abundantly furnished with all the requisites for a long blockade,

once more attempted to prevail on the town by gentle means, but in vain.

At last he caused the trenches to be opened and prepared to invest the

place.

In the meanwhile the position of the Protestants had grown as much worse

as that of the regent had improved. The league of the nobles had

gradually melted away to a third of its original number. Some of its

most important defenders, Count Egmont, for instance, had gone over to

the king; the pecuniary contributions which had been so confidently

reckoned upon came in but slowly and scantily; the zeal of the party

began perceptibly to cool, and the close of the fine season made it

necessary to discontinue the public preachings, which, up to this time,

had been continued. These and other reasons combined induced the

declining party to moderate its demands, and to try every legal

expedient before it proceeded to extremities. In a general synod of the

Protestants, which was held for this object in Antwerp, and which was

also attended by some of the confederates, it was resolved to send

deputies to the regent to remonstrate with her upon this breach of

faith, and to remind her of her compact. Brederode undertook this

office, but was obliged to submit to a harsh and disgraceful rebuff, and

was shut out of Brussels. He had now recourse to a written memorial, in

which,--in the name of the whole league, he complained that the duchess

had, by violating her word, falsified in sight of all the Protestants

the security given by the league, in reliance on which all of them had

laid down their arms; that by her insincerity she had undone all the

good which the confederates had labored to effect; that she had sought

to degrade the league in the eyes of the people, had excited discord

among its members, and had even caused many of them to be persecuted as

criminals. He called upon her to recall her late ordinances, which

deprived the Protestants of the free exercise of their religion, but

above all to raise the siege of Valenciennes, to disband the troops

newly enlisted, and ended by assuring her that on these conditions and

these alone the league would be responsible for the general

tranquillity.

To this the regent replied in a tone very different from her previous

moderation. “Who these confederates are who address me in this memorial

is, indeed, a mystery to me. The confederates with whom I had formerly

to do, for ought I know to the contrary, have dispersed. All at least

cannot participate in this statement of grievances, for I myself know of

many, who, satisfied in all their demands, have returned to their duty.

But still, whoever he may be, who without authority and right, and

without name addresses me, he has at least given a very false

interpretation to my word if he asserts that I guaranteed to the

Protestants complete religious liberty. No one can be ignorant how

reluctantly I was induced to permit the preachings in the places where

they had sprung up unauthorized, and this surely cannot be counted for a

concession of freedom in religion. Is it likely that I should have

entertained the idea of protecting these illegal consistories, of

tolerating this state within a state? Could I forget myself so far as

to grant the sanction of law to an objectionable sect; to overturn all

order in the church and in the state, and abominably to blaspheme my

holy religion? Look to him who has given you such permission, but you

must not argue with me. You accuse me of having violated the agreement

which gave you impunity and security. The past I am willing to look

over, but not what may be done in future. No advantage was to be taken

of you on account of the petition of last April, and to the best of my

knowledge nothing of the kind has as yet been done; but whoever again

offends in the same way against the majesty of the king must be ready to

bear the consequences of his crime. In fine, how can you presume to

remind me of an agreement which you have been the first to break? At

whose instigation were the churches plundered, the images of the saints

thrown down, and the towns hurried into rebellion? Who formed alliances

with foreign powers, set on foot illegal enlistments, and collected

unlawful taxes from the subjects of the king? These are the reasons

which have impelled me to draw together my troops, and to increase the

severity of the edicts. Whoever now asks me to lay down my arms cannot

mean well to his country or his king, and if ye value your own lives,

look to it that your own actions acquit you, instead of judging mine.”

All the hopes which the confederates might have entertained of an

amicable adjustment sank with this high-toned declaration. Without

being confident of possessing powerful support, the regent would not,

they argued, employ such language. An army was in the field, the enemy

was before Valenciennes, the members who were the heart of the league

had abandoned it, and the regent required unconditional submission.

Their cause was now so bad that open resistance could not make it worse.

If they gave themselves up defenceless into the hands of their

exasperated sovereign their fate was certain; an appeal to arms could at

least make it a matter of doubt; they, therefore, chose the latter, and

began seriously to take steps for their defence. In order to insure the

assistance of the German Protestants, Louis of Nassau attempted to

persuade the towns of Amsterdam, Antwerp, Tournay, and Valenciennes to

adopt the confession of Augsburg, and in this manner to seal their

alliance with a religious union. But the proposition was not

successful, because the hatred of the Calvinists to the Lutherans

exceeded, if possible, that which they bore to popery. Nassau also

began in earnest to negotiate for supplies from France, the Palatinate,

and Saxony. The Count of Bergen fortified his castles; Brederode threw

himself with a small force into his strong town of Vianne on the Leek,

over which he claimed the rights of sovereignty, and which he hastily

placed in a state of defense, and there awaited a reinforcement from the

league, and the issue of Nassua’s negotiations. The flag of war was now

unfurled, everywhere the drum was heard to beat; in all parts troops

were seen on the march, contributions collected, and soldiers enlisted.

The agents of each party often met in the same place, and hardly had the

collectors and recruiting officers of the regent quitted a town when it

had to endure a similar visit from the agents of the league.

From Valenciennes the regent directed her attention to Herzogenbusch,

where the Iconoclasts had lately committed fresh excesses, and the party

of the Protestants had gained a great accession of strength. In order

to prevail on the citizens peaceably to receive a garrison, she sent

thither, as ambassador, the Chancellor Scheiff, from Brabant, with

counsellor Merode of Petersheim, whom she appointed governor of the

town; they were instructed to secure the place by judicious means, and

to exact from the citizens a new oath of allegiance. At the same time

the Count of Megen, who was in the neighborhood with a body of troops,

was ordered to support the two envoys in effecting their commission,

and to afford the means of throwing in a garrison immediately. But

Brederode, who obtained information of these movements in Viane, had

already sent thither one of his creatures, a certain Anton von Bomber,--

a hot Calvinist, but also a brave soldier, in order to raise the courage

of his party, and to frustrate the designs of the regent. This Bomberg

succeeded in getting possession of the letters which the chancellor

brought with him from the duchess, and contrived to substitute in their

place counterfeit ones, which, by their harsh and imperious language,

were calculated to exasperate the minds of the citizens. At the same

time he attempted to throw suspicion on both the ambassadors of the

duchess as having evil designs upon the town. In this he succeeded so

well with the mob that in their mad fury they even laid hands on the

ambassadors and placed them in confinement. He himself, at the head of

eight thousand men, who had adopted him as their leader, advanced

against the Count of Megen, who was moving in order of battle, and gave

him so warm a reception, with some heavy artillery, that he was

compelled to retire without accomplishing his object. The regent now

sent an officer of justice to demand the release of her ambassadors, and

in case of refusal to threaten the place with siege; but Bomberg with

his party surrounded the town hall and forced the magistrate to deliver

to him the key of the town. The messenger of the regent was ridiculed

and dismissed, and an answer sent through him that the treatment of the

prisoners would depend upon Brederode’s orders. The herald, who was

remaining outside before the town, now appeared to declare war against

her, which, however, the chancellor prevented.

After his futile attempt on Herzogenhusch the Count of Megen threw

himself into Utrecht in order to prevent the execution of a design which

Count Brederode had formed against that town. As it had suffered much

from the army of the confederates, which was encamped in its immediate

neighborhood, near Viane, it received Megen with open arms as its

protector, and conformed to all the alterations which he made in the

religious worship. Upon this he immediately caused a redoubt to be

thrown up on the bank of the Leek, which would command Viane.

Brederode, not disposed to await his attack, quitted that rendezvous

with the best part of his army and hastened to Amsterdam.

However unprofitably the Prince of Orange appeared to be losing his

time in Antwerp during these operations he was, nevertheless, busily

employed. At his instigation the league had commenced recruiting, and

Brederode had fortified his castles, for which purpose he himself

presented him with three cannons which he had had cast at Utrecht.

His eye watched all the movements of the court, and he kept the league

warned of the towns which were next menaced with attack. But his chief

object appeared to be to get possession of the principal places in the

districts under his own government, to which end he with all his power

secretly assisted Brederode’s plans against Utrecht and Amsterdam. The

most important place was the Island of Walcheren, where the king was

expected to land; and he now planned a scheme for the surprise of this

place, the conduct of which was entrusted to one of the confederate

nobles, an intimate friend of the Prince of Orange, John of Marnix,

Baron of Thoulouse, and brother of Philip of Aldegonde.

1567. Thoulouse maintained a secret understanding with the late mayor

of Middleburg, Peter Haak, by which he expected to gain an opportunity

of throwing a garrison into Middleburg and Flushing. The recruiting,

however, for this undertaking, which was set on foot in Antwerp, could

not be carried on so quietly as not to attract the notice of the

magistrate. In order, therefore, to lull the suspicions of the latter,

and at the same time to promote the success of the scheme, the prince

caused the herald by public proclamation to order all foreign soldiers

and strangers who were in the service of the state, or employed in other

business, forthwith to quit the town. He might, say his adversaries, by

closing the gates have easily made himself master of all these suspected

recruits; but be expelled them from the town in order to drive them the

more quickly to the place of their destination. They immediately

embarked on the Scheldt, and sailed down to Rammekens; as, however, a

market-vessel of Antwerp, which ran into Flushing a little before them

had given warning of their design they were forbidden to enter the port.

They found the same difficulty at Arnemuiden, near Middleburg, although

the Protestants in that place exerted themselves to raise an

insurrection in their favor. Thoulouse, therefore, without having

accomplished anything, put about his ships and sailed back down the

Scheldt as far as Osterweel, a quarter of a mile from Antwerp, where he

disembarked his people and encamped on the shore, with the hope of

getting men from Antwerp, and also in order to revive by his presence

the courage of his party, which had been cast down by the proceedings of

the magistrate. By the aid of the Calvinistic clergy, who recruited for

him, his little army increased daily, so that at last he began to be

formidable to the Antwerpians, whose whole territory he laid waste. The

magistrate was for attacking him here with the militia, which, however,

the Prince of Orange successfully opposed by the pretext that it would

not be prudent to strip the town of soldiers.

Meanwhile the regent had hastily brought together a small army under the

command of Philip of Launoy, which moved from Brussels to Antwerp by

forced marches. At the same time Count Megen managed to keep the army

of the Gueux shut up and employed at Viane, so that it could neither

hear of these movements nor hasten to the assistance of its

confederates. Launoy, on his arrival attacked by surprise the dispersed

crowds, who, little expecting an enemy, had gone out to plunder, and

destroyed them in one terrible carnage. Thoulouse threw himself with

the small remnant of his troops into a country house, which had served

him as his headquarters, and for a long time defended himself with the

courage of despair, until Launoy, finding it impossible to dislodge him,

set fire to the house. The few who escaped the flames fell on the

swords of the enemy or were drowned in the Scheldt. Thoulouse himself

preferred to perish in the flames rather than to fall into the hands of

the enemy. This victory, which swept off more than a thousand of the

enemy, was purchased by the conqueror cheaply enough, for he did not

lose more than two men. Three hundred of the leaguers who surrendered

were cut down without mercy on the spot, as a sally from Antwerp was

momentarily dreaded.

Before the battle actually commenced no anticipation of such an event

had been entertained at Antwerp. The Prince of Orange, who had got

early information of it, had taken the precaution the day before of

causing the bridge which unites the town with Osterweel to be destroyed,

in order, as he gave out, to prevent the Calvinists within the town

going out to join the army of Thoulouse. A more probable motive seems

to have been a fear lest the Catholics should attack the army of the

Gueux general in the rear, or lest Launoy should prove victorious, and

try to force his way into the town. On the same pretext the gates of

the city were also shut by his orders, arnd the inhabitants, who did not

comprehend the meaning of all these movements, fluctuated between

curiosity and alarm, until the sound of artillery from Osterweel

announced to them what there was going on. In clamorous crowds they all

ran to the walls and ramparts, from which, as the wind drove the smoke

from the contending armies, they commanded a full view of the whole

battle. Both armies were so near to the town that they could discern

their banners, and clearly distinguish the voices of the victors and the

vanquished. More terrible even than the battle itself was the spectacle

which this town now presented. Each of the conflicting armies had its

friends and its enemies on the wall. All that went on in the plain

roused on the ramparts exultation or dismay; on the issue of the

conflict the fate of each spectator seemed to depend. Every movement on

the field could be read in the faces of the townsmen; defeat and

triumph, the terror of the conquered, and the fury of the conqueror.

Here a painful but idle wish to support those who are giving way, to

rally those who fly; there an equally futile desire to overtake them,

to slay them, to extirpate them. Now the Gueux fly, and ten thousand

men rejoice; Thoulouse’s last place and refuge is in flames, and the

hopes of twenty thousand citizens are consumed with him.

But the first bewilderment of alarm soon gave place to a frantic desire

of revenge. Shrieking aloud, wringing her hands and with dishevelled

hair, the widow of the slain general rushed amidst the crowds to implore

their pity and help. Excited by their favorite preacher, Hermann, the

Calvinists fly to arms, determined to avenge their brethren, or to

perish with them; without reflection, without plan or leader, guided by

nothing but their anguish, their delirium, they rush to the Red Gate of

the city which leads to the field of battle; but there is no egress, the

gate is shut and the foremost of the crowd recoil on those that follow.

Thousands and thousands collect together, a dreadful rush is made to the

Meer Bridge. We are betrayed! we are prisoners! is the general cry.

Destruction to the papists, death to him who has betrayed us!--a sullen

murmur, portentous of a revolt, runs through the multitude. They begin

to suspect that all that has taken place has been set on foot by the

Roman Catholics to destroy the Calvinists. They had slain their

defenders, and they would now fall upon the defenceless. With fatal

speed this suspicion spreads through the whole of Antwerp. Now they

can, they think, understand the past, and they fear something still

worse in the background; a frightful distrust gains possession of every

mind. Each party dreads the other; every one sees an enemy in his

neighbor; the mystery deepens the alarm and horror; a fearful condition

for a populous town, in which every accidental concourse instantly

becomes tumult, every rumor started amongst them becomes a fact, every

small spark a blazing flame, and by the force of numbers and collision

all passions are furiously inflamed. All who bore the name of

Calvinists were roused by this report. Fifteen thousand of them take

possession of the Meer Bridge, and plant heavy artillery upon it, which

they had taken by force from the arsenal; the same thing also happens at

another bridge; their number makes them formidable, the town is in their

hands; to escape an imaginary danger they bring all Antwerp to the brink

of ruin.

Immediately on the commencement of the tumult the Prince of Orange

hastened to the Meer Bridge, where, boldly forcing his way through the

raging crowd, he commanded peace and entreated to be heard. At the

other bridge Count Hogstraten, accompanied by the Burgomaster Strahlen,

made the same attempt; but not possessing a sufficient share either of

eloquence or of popularity to command attention, he referred the

tumultuous crowd to the prince, around whom all Antwerp now furiously

thronged. The gate, he endeavored to explain to them, was shut simply

to keep off the victor, whoever he might be, from the city, which would

otherwise become the prey of an infuriated soldiery. In vain! the

frantic people would not listen, and one more daring than the rest

presented his musket at him, calling him a traitor. With tumultuous

shouts they demanded the key of the Red Gate, which he was ultimately

forced to deliver into the hands of the preacher Hermann. But, he added

with happy presence of mind, they must take heed what they were doing;

in the suburbs six hundred of the enemy’s horse were waiting to receive

them. This invention, suggested by the emergency, was not so far

removed from the truth as its author perhaps imagined; for no sooner had

the victorious general perceived the commotion in Antwerp than he caused

his whole cavalry to mount in the hope of being able, under favor of the

disturbance, to break into the town. I, at least, continued the Prince

of Orange, shall secure my own safety in time, and he who follows my

example will save himself much future regret. These words opportunely

spoken and immediately acted upon had their effect. Those who stood

nearest followed him, and were again followed by the next, so that at

last the few who had already hastened out of the city when they saw no

one coming after them lost the desire of coping alone with the six

hundred horse. All accordingly returned to the Meer Bridge, where they

posted watches and videttes, and the night was passed tumultuously under

arms.

The town of Antwerp was now threatened with fearful bloodshed and

pillage. In this pressing emergency Orange assembled an extraordinary

senate, to which were summoned all the best-disposed citizens of the

four nations. If they wished, said he, to repress the violence of the

Calvinists they must oppose them with an army strong enough and prepared

to meet them. It was therefore resolved to arm with speed the Roman

Catholic inhabitants of the town, whether natives, Italians, or

Spaniards, and, if possible, to induce the Lutherans also to join them.

The haughtiness of the Calvinists, who, proud of their wealth and

confident in their numbers, treated every other religious party with

contempt, had long made the Lutherans their enemies, and the mutual

exasperation of these two Protestant churches was even more implacable

than their common hatred of the dominant church. This jealousy the

magistrate had turned to advantage, by making use of one party to curb

the other, and had thus contrived to keep the Calvinists in check, who,

from their numbers and insolence, were most to be feared. With this

view, he had tacitly taken into his protection the Lutherans, as the

weaker and more peaceable party, having moreover invited for them, from

Germany, spiritual teachers, who, by controversial sermons, might keep

up the mutual hatred of the two bodies. He encouraged the Lutherans in

the vain idea that the king thought more favorably of their religious

creed than that of the Calvinists, and exhorted them to be careful how

they damaged their good cause by any understanding with the latter. It

was not, therefore, difficult to bring about, for the moment, a union

with the Roman Catholics and the Lutherans, as its object was to keep

down their detested rivals. At dawn of day an army was opposed to the

Calvinists which was far superior in force to their own. At the head of

this army, the eloquence of Orange had far greater effect, and found far

more attention than on the preceding evening, unbacked by such strong

persuasion. The Calvinists, though in possession of arms and artillery,

yet, alarmed at the superior numbers arrayed against them, were the

first to send envoys, and to treat for an amicable adjustment of

differences, which by the tact and good temper of the Prince of Orange,

he concluded to the satisfaction of all parties. On the proclamation of

this treaty the Spaniards and Italians immediately laid down their arms.

They were followed by the Calvinists, and these again by the Roman

Catholics; last of all the Lutherans disarmed.

Two days and two nights Antwerp had continued in this alarming state.

During the tumult the Roman Catholics had succeeded in placing barrels

of gunpowder under the Meer Bridge, and threatened to blow into the air

the whole army of the Calvinists, who had done the same in other places

to destroy their adversaries. The destruction of the town hung on the

issue of a moment, and nothing but the prince’s presence of mind saved

it.

Noircarmes, with his army of Walloons, still lay before Valenciennes,

which, in firm reliance on being relieved by the Gueux, obstinately

refused to listen to all the representations of the regent, and rejected

every idea of surrender. An order of the court had expressly forbidden

the royalist general to press the siege until he should receive

reinforcements from Germany. Whether from forbearance or fear, the king

regarded with abhorrence the violent measure of storming the place, as

necessarily involving the innocent in the fate of the guilty, and

exposing the loyal subject to the same ill-treatment as the rebel. As,

however, the confidence of the besieged augmented daily, and emboldened

by the inactivity of the besiegers, they annoyed him by frequent

sallies, and after burning the cloisters before the town, retired with

the plunder--as the time uselessly lost before this town was put to good

use by the rebels and their allies, Noircarmes besought the duchess to

obtain immediate permission from the king to take it by storm. The

answer arrived more quickly than Philip was ever before wont to reply.

As yet they must be content, simply to make the necessary preparations,

and then to wait awhile to allow terror to have its effect; but if upon

this they did not appear ready to capitulate, the storming might take

place, but, at the same time, with the greatest possible regard for the

lives of the inhabitants. Before the regent allowed Noircarmes to

proceed to this extremity she empowered Count Egmont, with the Duke

Arschot, to treat once more with the rebels amicably. Both conferred

with the deputies of the town, and omitted no argument calculated to

dispel their delusion. They acquainted them with the defeat of

Thoulouse, their sole support, and with the fact that the Count of Megen

had cut off the army of the Gueux from the town, and assured them that

if they had held out so long they owed it entirely to the king’s

forbearance. They offered them full pardon for the past; every one was

to be free to prove his innocence before whatever tribunal he should

chose; such as did not wish to avail themselves of this privilege were

to be allowed fourteen days to quit the town with all their effects.

Nothing was required of the townspeople but the admission of the

garrison. To give time to deliberate on these terms an armistice of

three days was granted. When the deputies returned they found their

fellow-citizens less disposed than ever to an accommodation, reports of

new levies by the Gueux having, in the meantime, gained currency.

Thoulouse, it was pretended, had conquered, and was advancing with a

powerful army to relieve the place. Their confidence went so far that

they even ventured to break the armistice, and to fire upon the

besiegers. At last the burgomaster, with difficulty, succeeded in

bringing matters so far towards a peaceful settlement that twelve of the

town counsellors were sent into the camp with the following conditions:

The edict by which Valenciennes had been charged with treason and

declared an enemy to the country was required to be recalled, the

confiscation of their goods revoked, and the prisoners on both sides

restored to liberty; the garrison was not to enter the town before every

one who thought good to do so had placed himself and his property in

security; and a pledge to be given that the inhabitants should not be

molested in any manner, and that their expenses should be paid by the

king.

Noircarmes was so indignant with these conditions that he was almost on

the point of ill-treating the deputies. If they had not come, he told

them, to give up the place, they might return forthwith, lest he should

send them home with their hands tied behind their backs. Upon this the

deputies threw the blame on the obstinacy of the Calvinists, and

entreated him, with tears in their eyes, to keep them in the camp, as

they did not, they said, wish to have anything more to do with their

rebellious townsmen, or to be joined in their fate. They even knelt to

beseech the intercession of Egmont, but Noircarmes remained deaf to all

their entreaties, and the sight of the chains which he ordered to be

brought out drove them reluctantly enough back to Valenciennes.

Necessity, not severity, imposed this harsh procedure upon the general.

The detention of ambassadors had on a former occasion drawn upon him the

reprimand of the duchess; the people in the town would not have failed

to have ascribed the non-appearance of their present deputies to the

same cause as in the former case had detained them. Besides, he was

loath to deprive the town of any out of the small residue of

well-disposed citizens, or to leave it a prey to a blind, foolhardy mob.

Egmont was so mortified at the bad report of his embassy that he the

night following rode round to reconnoitre its fortifications, and

returned well satisfied to have convinced himself that it was no longer

tenable.

Valenciennes stretches down a gentle acclivity into the level plain,

being built on a site as strong as it is delightful. On one side

enclosed by the Scheldt and another smaller river, and on the other

protected by deep ditches, thick walls, and towers, it appears capable

of defying every attack. But Noircarmes had discovered a few points

where neglect had allowed the fosse to be filled almost up to the level

of the natural surface, and of these he determined to avail himself in

storming. He drew together all the scattered corps by which he had

invested the town, and during a tempestuous night carried the suburb of

Berg without the loss of a single man. He then assigned separate points

of attack to the Count of Bossu, the young Charles of Mansfeld, and the

younger Barlaimont, and under a terrible fire, which drove the enemy

from his walls, his troops were moved up with all possible speed. Close

before the town, and opposite the gate under the eyes of the besiegers,

and with very little loss, a battery was thrown up to an equal height

with the fortifications. From this point the town was bombarded with an

unceasing fire for four hours. The Nicolaus tower, on which the

besieged had planted some artillery, was among the first that fell, and

many perished under its ruins. The guns were directed against all the

most conspicuous buildings, and a terrible slaughter was made amongst

the inhabitants. In a few hours their principal works were destroyed,

and in the gate itself so extensive a breach was made that the besieged,

despairing of any longer defending themselves, sent in haste two

trumpeters to entreat a parley. This was granted, but the storm was

continued without intermission. The ambassador entreated Noircarmes to

grant them the same terms which only two days before they had rejected.

But circumstances had now changed, and the victor would hear no more of

conditions. The unceasing fire left the inhabitants no time to repair

the ramparts, which filled the fosse with their debris, and opened many

a breach for the enemy to enter by. Certain of utter destruction, they

surrendered next morning at discretion after a bombardment of

six-and-thirty hours without intermission, and three thousand bombs had

been thrown into the city. Noircarmes marched into the town with his

victorious army under the strictest discipline, and was received by a

crowd of women and children, who went to meet him, carrying green boughs,

and beseeching his pity. All the citizens were immediately disarmed, the

commandant and his son beheaded; thirty-six of the most guilty of the

rebels, among whom were La Grange and another Calvinistic preacher, Guido

de Bresse, atoned for their obstinacy at the gallows; all the municipal

functionaries were deprived of their offices, and the town of all its

privileges. The Roman Catholic worship was immediately restored in full

dignity, and the Protestant abolished. The Bishop of Arras was obliged to

quit his residence in the town, and a strong garrison placed in it to

insure its future obedience.

The fate of Valenciennes, towards which all eyes had been turned, was a

warning to the other towns which had similarly offended. Noircarmes

followed up his victory, and marched immediately against Maestricht,

which surrendered without a blow, and received a garrison. From thence

he marched to Tornhut to awe by his presence the people of Herzogenbusch

and Antwerp. The Gueux in this place, who under the command of Bomberg

had carried all things before them, were now so terrified at his

approach that they quitted the town in haste. Noircarmes was received

without opposition. The ambassadors of the duchess were immediately set

at liberty. A strong garrison was thrown into Tornhut. Cambray also

opened its gates, and joyfully recalled its archbishop, whom the

Calvinists had driven from his see, and who deserved this triumph as

he did not stain his entrance with blood. Ghent, Ypres, and Oudenarde

submitted and received garrisons. Gueldres was now almost entirely

cleared of the rebels and reduced to obedience by the Count of Megen.

In Friesland and Groningen the Count of Aremberg had eventually the same

success; but it was not obtained here so rapidly or so easily, since the

count wanted consistency and firmness, and these warlike republicans

maintained more pertinaciously their privileges, and were greatly

supported by the strength of their position. With the exception of

Holland all the provinces had yielded before the victorious arms of the

duchess. The courage of the disaffected sunk entirely, and nothing was

left to them but flight or submission.

RESIGNATION OF WILLIAM OF ORANGE.

Ever since the establishment of the Guesen league, but more perceptibly

since the outbreak of the Iconoclasts, the spirit of rebellion and

disaffection had spread so rapidly among all classes, parties had become

so blended and confused, that the regent had difficulty in

distinguishing her own adherents, and at last hardly knew on whom to

rely. The lines of demarcation between the loyal and the disaffected

had grown gradually fainter, until at last they almost entirely

vanished. The frequent alterations, too, which she had been obliged to

make in the laws, and which were at most the expedients and suggestions

of the moment, had taken from them their precision and binding force,

and had given full scope to the arbitrary will of every individual whose

office it was to interpret them. And at last, amidst the number and

variety of the interpretations, the spirit was lost and the intention of

the lawgiver baffled. The close connection which in many cases

subsisted between Protestants and Roman Catholics, between Gueux and

Royalists, and which not unfrequently gave them a common interest, led

the latter to avail themselves of the loophole which the vagueness of

the laws left open, and in favor of their Protestant friends and

associates evaded by subtle distinctions all severity in the discharge

of their duties. In their minds it was enough not to be a declared

rebel, not one of the Gueux, or at least not a heretic, to be authorized

to mould their duties to their inclinations, and to set the most

arbitrary limits to their obedience to the king. Feeling themselves

irresponsible, the governors of the provinces, the civil functionaries,

both high and low, the municipal officers, and the military commanders

had all become extremely remiss in their duty, and presuming upon this

impunity showed a pernicious indulgence to the rebels and their

adherents which rendered abortive all the regent’s measures of coercion.

This general indifference and corruption of so many servants of the

state had further this injurious result, that it led the turbulent to

reckon on far stronger support than in reality they had cause for, and

to count on their own side all who were but lukewarm adherents of the

court. This way of thinking, erroneous as it was, gave them greater

courage and confidence; it had the same effect as if it had been well

founded; and the uncertain vassals of the king became in consequence

almost as injurious to him as his declared enemies, without at the same

time being liable to the same measures of severity. This was especially

the case with the Prince of Orange, Counts Egmont, Bergen, Hogstraten,

Horn, and several others of the higher nobility. The regent felt the

necessity of bringing these doubtful subjects to an explanation, in

order either to deprive the rebels of a fancied support or to unmask the

enemies of the king. And the latter reason was of the more urgent

moment when being obliged to send an army into the field it was of the

utmost importance to entrust the command of the troops to none but those

of whose fidelity she was fully assured. She caused, therefore, an oath

to be drawn up which bound all who took it to advance the Roman Catholic

faith, to pursue and punish the Iconoclasts, and to help by every means

in their power in extirpating all kinds of heresy. It also pledged them

to treat the king’s enemies as their own, and to serve without

distinction against all whom the regent in the king’s name should point

out. By this oath she did not hope so much to test their sincerity, and

still less to secure them, as rather to gain a pretext for removing the

suspected parties if they declined to take it, and for wresting from

their hands a power which they abused, or a legitimate ground for

punishing them if they took it and broke it. This oath was exacted from

all Knights of the Fleece, all civil functionaries and magistrates, all

officers of the army--from every one in short who held any appointment

in the state. Count Mansfeld was the first who publicly took it in the

council of state at Brussels; his example was followed by the Duke of

Arschot, Counts Egmont, Megen, and Barlaimont. Hogstraten and Horn

endeavored to evade the necessity. The former was offended at a proof

of distrust which shortly before the regent had given him. Under the

pretext that Malines could not safely be left any longer without its

governor, but that the presence of the count was no less necessary in

Antwerp, she had taken from him that province and given it to another

whose fidelity she could better reckon upon. Hostraten expressed his

thanks that she had been pleased to release him from one of his burdens,

adding that she would complete the obligation if she would relieve him

from the other also. True to his determination Count Horn was living

on one of his estates in the strong town of Weerdt, having retired

altogether from public affairs. Having quitted the service of the

state, he owed, he thought, nothing more either to the republic or to

the king, and declined the oath, which in his case appears at last to

have been waived.

The Count of Brederode was left the choice of either taking the

prescribed oath or resigning the command of his squadron of cavalry.

After many fruitless attempts to evade the alternative, on the plea that

he did not hold office in the state, he at last resolved upon the latter

course, and thereby escaped all risk of perjuring himself.