Religious and political sympathies and antipathies in the seventeen
provinces--Unanimous hatred for the foreign soldiery--Use made by
the Prince of the mutiny--His correspondence--Necessity of Union
enforced--A congress from nearly all the provinces meets at Ghent--
Skirmishes between the foreign troops and partisan bands--Slaughter
at Tisnacq--Suspicions entertained of the State-Council--Arrest of
the State-Council--Siege of Ghent citadel--Assistance sent by
Orange--Maestricht lost and regained--Wealthy and perilous condition
of Antwerp--Preparations of the mutineers under the secret
superintendence of Avila--Stupidity of Oberstein--Duplicity of Don
Sancho--Reinforcements of Walloons under Havre, Egmont, and others,
sent to for the expected assault of Antwerp--Governor Champagny's
preparations the mutineers--Insubordination, incapacity, and
negligence of all but him--Concentration of all the mutineers from
different points, in the citadel--The attack--the panic--the flight
--the massacre--the fire--the sack--and other details of the
"Spanish Fury"--Statistics of murder and robbery--Letter of Orange
to the states-general--Surrender of Ghent citadel--Conclusion of the
"Ghent Pacification"--The treaty characterized--Forms of
ratification--Fall of Zierickzee and recovery of Zealand.
Meantime, the Prince of Orange sat at Middelburg, watching the storm.
The position of Holland and Zealand with regard to the other fifteen
provinces was distinctly characterized. Upon certain points there was
an absolute sympathy, while upon others there was a grave and almost
fatal difference. It was the task of the Prince to deepen the sympathy,
to extinguish the difference.
In Holland and Zealand, there was a warm and nearly universal adhesion to
the Reformed religion, a passionate attachment to the ancient political
liberties. The Prince, although an earnest Calvinist himself, did all in
his power to check the growing spirit of intolerance toward the old
religion, omitted no opportunity of strengthening the attachment which
the people justly felt for their liberal institutions.
On the other hand, in most of the other provinces, the Catholic religion
had been regaining its ascendency. Even in 1574, the estates assembled
at Brussels declared to Requesens "that they would rather die the death
than see any change in their religion." That feeling had rather
increased than diminished. Although there was a strong party attached to
the new faith, there was perhaps a larger, certainly a more influential
body, which regarded the ancient Church with absolute fidelity. Owing
partly to the persecution which had, in the course of years, banished so
many thousands of families from the soil, partly to the coercion, which
was more stringent in the immediate presence of the Crown's
representative, partly to the stronger infusion of the Celtic element,
which from the earliest ages had always been so keenly alive to the more
sensuous and splendid manifestations of the devotional principle--owing
to those and many other causes, the old religion, despite of all the
outrages which had been committed in its name, still numbered a host of
zealous adherents in the fifteen provinces. Attempts against its
sanctity were regarded with jealous eyes. It was believed, and with
reason, that there was a disposition on the part of the Reformers to
destroy it root and branch. It was suspected that the same enginery of
persecution would be employed in its extirpation, should the opposite
party gain the supremacy, which the Papists had so long employed against
the converts to the new religion.
As to political convictions, the fifteen provinces differed much less
from their two sisters. There was a strong attachment to their old
constitutions; a general inclination to make use of the present crisis to
effect their restoration. At the same time, it had not come to be the
general conviction, as in Holland and Zealand, that the maintenance of
those liberties was incompatible with the continuance of Philip's
authority. There was, moreover, a strong aristocratic faction which was
by no means disposed to take a liberal view of government in general, and
regarded with apprehension the simultaneous advance of heretical notions
both in church and, state. Still there were, on the whole, the elements
of a controlling constitutional party throughout the fifteen provinces
The great bond of sympathy, however, between all the seventeen was their
common hatred to the foreign soldiery. Upon this deeply imbedded,
immovable fulcrum of an ancient national hatred, the sudden mutiny of the
whole Spanish army served as a lever of incalculable power. The Prince
seized it as from the hand of God. Thus armed, he proposed to himself
the task of upturning the mass of oppression under which the old
liberties of the country had so long been crushed. To effect this
object, adroitness was as requisite as courage. Expulsion of the
foreign soldiery, union of the seventeen provinces, a representative
constitution, according to the old charters, by the states-general,
under an hereditary chief, a large religious toleration, suppression
of all inquisition into men's consciences--these were the great objects
to which the Prince now devoted himself with renewed energy.
To bring about a general organization and a general union, much delicacy
of handling was necessary. The sentiment of extreme Catholicism and
Monarchism was not to be suddenly scared into opposition. The Prince,
therefore, in all his addresses and documents was careful to disclaim any
intention of disturbing the established religion, or of making any rash
political changes. "Let no man think," said he, to the authorities of
Brabant, "that, against the will of the estates, we desire to bring about
any change in religion. Let no one suspect us capable of prejudicing the
rights of any man. We have long since taken up arms to maintain a legal
and constitutional freedom, founded upon law. God forbid that we should
now attempt to introduce novelties, by which the face of liberty should
be defiled."
In a brief and very spirited letter to Count Lalain, a Catholic and a
loyalist, but a friend of his country and fervent hater of foreign
oppression, he thus appealed to his sense of chivalry and justice:
"Although the honorable house from which you spring," he said, "and the
virtue and courage of your ancestors have always impressed me with the
conviction that you would follow in their footsteps, yet am I glad to
have received proofs that my anticipations were correct. I cannot help,
therefore, entreating you to maintain the same high heart, and to
accomplish that which you have so worthily begun. Be not deluded by
false masks, mumming faces, and borrowed titles, which people assume for
their own profit, persuading others that the King's service consists in
the destruction of his subjects."
While thus careful to offend no man's religious convictions, to startle
no man's loyalty, he made skillful use of the general indignation felt
at, the atrocities of the mutinous army. This chord he struck boldly,
powerfully, passionately, for he felt sure of the depth and strength of
its vibrations. In his address to the estates of Gelderland, he used
vigorous language, inflaming and directing to a practical purpose the
just wrath which was felt in that, as in every other province. "I write
to warn you," he said, "to seize this present opportunity. Shake from
your necks the yoke of the godless Spanish tyranny, join yourselves at
once to the lovers of the fatherland, to the defenders of freedom.
According to the example of your own ancestors and ours, redeem for the
country its ancient laws, traditions, and privileges. Permit no longer,
to your shame and ours, a band of Spanish landloupers and other
foreigners, together with three or four self-seeking enemies of their own
land, to keep their feet upon our necks. Let them no longer, in the very
wantonness of tyranny, drive us about like a herd of cattle--like a gang
of well-tamed slaves."
Thus, day after day, in almost countless addresses to public bodies and
private individuals, he made use of the crisis to pile fresh fuel upon
the flames. At the same time, while thus fanning the general
indignation, he had the adroitness to point out that the people had
already committed themselves. He represented to them that the edict,
by which they had denounced his Majesty's veterans as outlaws, and had
devoted them to the indiscriminate destruction which such brigands
deserved, was likely to prove an unpardonable crime in the eyes of
majesty. In short, they had entered the torrent. If they would avoid
being dashed over the precipice, they must struggle manfully with the
mad waves of civil war into which they had plunged. "I beg you, with all
affection," he said to the states of Brabant, "to consider the danger in
which you have placed yourselves. You have to deal with the proudest and
most overbearing race in the world. For these qualities they are hated
by all other nations. They are even hateful to themselves. 'Tis a race
which seeks to domineer wheresoever it comes. It particularly declares
its intention to crush and to tyrannize you, my masters, and all the
land. They have conquered you already, as they boast, for the crime of
lese-majesty has placed you at their mercy. I tell you that your last
act, by which you have declared this army to be rebels, is decisive.
You have armed and excited the whole people against them, even to the
peasants and the peasants' children, and the insults and injuries thus
received, however richly deserved and dearly avenged, are all set down.
to your account. Therefore, 'tis necessary for you to decide now,
whether to be utterly ruined, yourselves and your children, or to
continue firmly the work which you have begun boldly, and rather to die
a hundred thousand deaths than to make a treaty with them, which can only
end in your ruin. Be assured that the measure dealt to you will be
ignominy as well as destruction. Let not your leaders expect the
honorable scaffolds of Counts Egmont and Horn. The whipping-post and
then the gibbet will be their certain fate."
Having by this and similar language, upon various occasions, sought to
impress upon his countrymen the gravity of the position, he led them to
seek the remedy in audacity and in union. He familiarized them with his
theory, that the legal, historical government of the provinces belonged
to the states-general, to a congress of nobles, clergy, and commons,
appointed from each of the seventeen provinces. He maintained, with
reason, that the government of the Netherlands was a representative
constitutional government, under the hereditary authority of the King.
To recover this constitution, to lift up these down-trodden rights, he
set before them most vividly the necessity of union, "'Tis impossible,"
he said, "that a chariot should move evenly having its wheels unequally
proportioned; and so must a confederation be broken to pieces, if there
be not an equal obligation on all to tend to a common purpose." Union,
close, fraternal, such as became provinces of a common origin and with
similar laws, could alone nave them from their fate. Union against a
common tyrant to nave a common fatherland.. Union; by which differences
of opinion should be tolerated, in order that a million of hearts should
beat for a common purpose, a million hands work out, invincibly, a common
salvation. "'Tis hardly necessary," he said "to use many words in
recommendation of union. Disunion has been the cause of all our woes.
There is no remedy, no hope, save in the bonds of friendship. Let all
particular disagreements be left to the decision of the states-general,
in order that with one heart and one will we may seek the disenthralment
of the fatherland from the tyranny of strangers."
The first step to a thorough union among all the provinces was the
arrangement of a closer connection between the now isolated states of
Holland and Zealand on the one side, and their fifteen sisters on the
other. The Prince professed the readiness of those states which he might
be said to represent in his single person, to draw as closely as possible
the bonds of fellowship. It was almost superfluous for him to promise
his own ready co-operation. "Nothing remains to us," said he, "but to
discard all jealousy and distrust. Let us, with a firm resolution and a
common accord, liberate these lands from the stranger. Hand to hand let
us accomplish a just and general peace. As for myself, I present to you,
with very, good affection, my person and all which I possess, assuring
you that I shall regard all my labors and pains in times which are past,
well bestowed, if God now grant me grace to see the desired end. That
this end will be reached, if you hold fast your resolution and take to
heart the means which God presents to you, I feel to be absolutely
certain."
Such were the tenor and the motives of the documents which he scattered--
broadcast at this crisis. They were addressed to the estates of nearly
every province. Those bodies were urgently implored to appoint deputies
to a general congress, at which a close and formal union between Holland
and Zealand with the other provinces might be effected. That important
measure secured, a general effort might, at the same time, be made to
expel the Spaniard from the soil. This done, the remaining matters could
be disposed of by the assembly of the estates-general. His eloquence and
energy were not without effect. In the course of the autumn, deputies
were appointed from the greater number of the provinces, to confer with
the representatives of Holland and Zealand, in a general congress. The
place appointed for the deliberations vas the city of Ghent. Here, by
the middle of October, a large number of delegates were already
assembled.
Events were rapidly rolling together from every quarter, and accumulating
to a crisis. A congress--a rebellious congress, as the King might deem
it--was assembling at Ghent; the Spanish army, proscribed, lawless, and
terrible, was strengthening itself daily for some dark and mysterious
achievement; Don John of Austria, the King's natural brother, was
expected from Spain to assume the government, which the State Council was
too timid to wield and too loyal to resign, while, meantime, the whole
population of the Netherlands, with hardly an exception, was disposed to
see the great question of the foreign soldiery settled, before the chaos
then existing should be superseded by a more definite authority.
Everywhere, men of all ranks and occupations--the artisan in the city,
the peasant in the fields--were deserting their daily occupations to
furbish helmets, handle muskets, and learn the trade of war. Skirmishes,
sometimes severe and bloody, were of almost daily occurrence. In these
the Spaniards were invariably successful, for whatever may be said of
their cruelty and licentiousness, it cannot be disputed that their
prowess was worthy of their renown. Romantic valor, unflinching
fortitude, consummate skill, characterized them always. What could half-
armed artisans achieve in the open plain against such accomplished foes?
At Tisnacq, between Louvain and Tirlemont, a battle was attempted by a
large miscellaneous mass of students, peasantry, and burghers, led by
country squires. It soon changed to a carnage, in which the victims were
all on one side. A small number of veterans, headed by Vargas, Mendoza,
Tassis, and other chivalrous commanders, routed the undisciplined
thousands at a single charge. The rude militia threw away their arms,
and fled panic-struck in all directions, at the first sight of their
terrible foe. Two Spaniards lost their lives and two thousand
Netherlanders. It was natural that these consummate warriors should
despise such easily slaughtered victims. A single stroke of the iron
flail, and the chaff was scattered to the four winds; a single sweep of
the disciplined scythe, and countless acres were in an instant mown.
Nevertheless, although beaten constantly, the Netherlanders were not
conquered. Holland and Zealand had read the foe a lesson which he had
not forgotten, and although on the open fields, and against the less
vigorous population of the more central provinces, his triumphs had been
easier, yet it was obvious that the spirit of resistance to foreign
oppression was growing daily stronger, notwithstanding daily defeats.
Meantime, while these desultory but deadly combats were in daily
progress, the Council of State was looked upon with suspicion by the mass
of the population. That body, in which resided provisionally the powers
of government, was believed to be desirous of establishing relations with
the mutinous army. It was suspected of insidiously provoking the
excesses which it seemed to denounce. It was supposed to be secretly
intriguing with those whom its own edicts had outlawed. Its sympathies
were considered, Spanish. It was openly boasted by the Spanish army
that, before long, they would descend from their fastnesses upon
Brussels, and give the city to the sword. A shuddering sense of coming
evil pervaded the population, but no man could say where the blow would
first be struck. It was natural that the capital should be thought
exposed to imminent danger. At the same time, while every man who had
hands was disposed to bear arms to defend the city, the Council seemed
paralyzed. The capital was insufficiently garrisoned, yet troops were
not enrolling for its protection. The state councillors obviously
omitted to provide for defence, and it was supposed that they were
secretly assisting the attack. It was thought important, therefore,
to disarm, or, at least, to control this body which was impotent for
protection, and seemed powerful only for mischief. It was possible to
make it as contemptible as it was believed to be malicious.
An unexpected stroke was therefore suddenly levelled against the Council
in full session. On the 5th of September, the Seigneur de Heze, a young
gentleman of a bold, but unstable character, then entertaining close but
secret relations with the Prince of Orange, appeared before the doors of
the palace. He was attended by about five hundred troops, under the
immediate command of the Seigneur de Glimes, bailiff of Walloon Brabant.
He demanded admittance, in the name of the Brabant estates, to the
presence of the State Council, and was refused. The doors were closed
and bolted. Without further ceremony the soldiers produced iron bars
brought with them for the purpose, forced all the gates from the hinges,
entered the hall of session, and at a word from their commander, laid
hands upon the councillors, and made every one prisoner. The Duke of
Aerschot, President of the Council, who was then in close alliance with
the Prince, was not present at the meeting, but lay forewarned, at home,
confined to his couch by a sickness assumed for the occasion. Viglius,
who rarely participated in the deliberations of the board, being already
afflicted with the chronic malady under which he was ere long to succumb,
also escaped the fate of his fellow-senators. The others were carried
into confinement. Berlaymont and Mansfeld were imprisoned in the Brood-
Huys, where the last mortal hours of Egmont and Horn had been passed.
Others were kept strictly guarded in their own houses. After a few
weeks, most of them were liberated. Councillor Del Rio was, however,
retained in confinement, and sent to Holland, where he was subjected to a
severe examination by the Prince of Orange, touching his past career,
particularly concerning the doings of the famous Blood Council. The
others were set free, and even permitted to resume their functions, but
their dignity was gone, their authority annihilated. Thenceforth the
states of Brabant and the community of Brussels were to govern for an
interval, for it was in their name that the daring blow against the
Council had been struck. All individuals and bodies, however, although
not displeased with the result, clamorously disclaimed responsibility for
the deed. Men were appalled at the audacity of the transaction, and
dreaded the vengeance of the King: The Abbot Van Perch, one of the secret
instigators of the act, actually died of anxiety for its possible
consequences. There was a mystery concerning the affair. They in whose
name it had been accomplished, denied having given any authority to the
perpetrators. Men asked each other what unseen agency had been at work,
what secret spring had been adroitly touched. There is but little doubt,
however, that the veiled but skilful hand which directed the blow, was
the same which had so long been guiding the destiny of the Netherlands.
It had been settled that the congress was to hold its sessions in Ghent,
although the citadel commanding that city was held by the Spaniards. The
garrison was not very strong, and Mondragon, its commander, was absent in
Zealand, but the wife of the veteran ably supplied his place, and
stimulated the slender body of troops to hold out with heroism, under the
orders of his lieutenant, Avilos Maldonado. The mutineers, after having
accomplished their victory at Tisnacq, had been earnestly solicited to
come to the relief of this citadel. They had refused and returned to
Alost. Meantime, the siege was warmly pressed by the states. There
being, however, a deficiency of troops, application for assistance was
formally made to the Prince of Orange. Count Reulx, governor of
Flanders; commissioned the Seigneur d'Haussy, brother of Count Bossu,
who, to obtain the liberation of that long-imprisoned and distinguished
nobleman, was about visiting the Prince in Zealand, to make a request
for an auxiliary force. It was, however, stipulated that care should
be taken lest any prejudice should be done to the Roman Catholic religion
or the authority of the King. The Prince readily acceded to the request,
and agreed to comply with the conditions under which only it could be
accepted. He promised to send twenty-eight companies. In his letter
announcing this arrangement, he gave notice that his troops would receive
strict orders to do no injury to person or property, Catholic or
Protestant, ecclesiastic or lay, and to offer no obstruction to the Roman
religion or the royal dignity. He added, however, that it was not to be
taken amiss, if his soldiers were permitted to exercise their own
religious rites, and to sing their Protestant hymns within their own
quarters. He moreover, as security for the expense and trouble, demanded
the city of Sluys. The first detachment of troops, under command of
Colonel Vander Tympel, was, however, hardly on its way, before an alarm
was felt among the Catholic party at this practical alliance with the
rebel Prince. An envoy, named Ottingen, was despatched to Zealand,
bearing a letter from the estates of Hainault, Brabant, and Flanders,
countermanding the request for troops, and remonstrating categorically
upon the subject of religion and loyalty. Orange deemed such
tergiversation paltry, but controlled his anger. He answered the letter
in liberal terms, for he was determined that by no fault of his should
the great cause be endangered. He reassured the estates as to the
probable behaviour of his troops. Moreover, they had been already
admitted into the city, while the correspondence was proceeding. The
matter of the psalm-singing was finally arranged to the satisfaction of
both parties, and it was agreed that Niewport, instead of Sluys, should
be given to the Prince as security.
The siege of the citadel was now pressed vigorously, and the
deliberations of the congress were opened under the incessant roar
of cannon. While the attack was thus earnestly maintained upon the
important castle of Ghent, a courageous effort was made by the citizens
of Maestricht to wrest their city from the hands of the Spaniards. The
German garrison having been gained by the burghers, the combined force
rose upon the Spanish troops, and drove them from the city, Montesdocca,
the commander, was arrested and imprisoned, but the triumph was only
temporary. Don Francis d'Ayala, Montesdocca's lieutenant, made a stand,
with a few companies, in Wieck, a village on the opposite side of the
Meuse, and connected with the city by a massive bridge of stone. From
this point he sent information to other commanders in the neighbourhood.
Don Ferdinand de Toledo soon arrived with several hundred troops from
Dalem. The Spaniards, eager to wipe out the disgrace to their arms,
loudly demanded to be led back to the city. The head of the bridge,
however, over which they must pass, was defended by a strong battery, and
the citizens were seen clustering in great numbers to defend their
firesides against a foe whom they had once expelled. To advance across
the bridge seemed certain destruction to the little force. Even Spanish
bravery recoiled at so desperate an undertaking, but unscrupulous
ferocity supplied an expedient where courage was at fault. There were
few fighting men present among the population of Wieck, but there were
many females. Each soldier was commanded to seize a woman, and, placing
her before his own body, to advance across the bridge. The column, thus
bucklered, to the shame of Spanish chivalry, by female bosoms, moved in
good order toward the battery. The soldiers leveled their muskets with
steady aim over the shoulders or under the arms of the women whom they
thus held before them. On the other hand, the citizens dared not
discharge their cannon at their own townswomen, among whose numbers many
recognized mothers, sisters, or wives. The battery was soon taken, while
at the same time Alonzj Vargas, who had effected his entrance from the
land side by burning down the Brussels gate, now entered the city at the
head of a band of cavalry. Maestricht was recovered, and an
indiscriminate slaughter instantly avenged its temporary loss. The
plundering, stabbing, drowning, burning, ravishing; were so dreadful
that, in the words of a cotemporary historian, "the burghers who had
escaped the fight had reason to think themselves less fortunate than
those who had died with arms in their hands."
This was the lot of Maestricht on the 20th of October. It was
instinctively felt to be the precursor of fresh disasters. Vague,
incoherent, but widely disseminated rumors had long pointed to Antwerp
and its dangerous situation. The Spaniards, foiled in their views upon
Brussels, had recently avowed an intention of avenging themselves in the
commercial capital. They had waited long enough, and accumulated
strength enough. Such a trifling city as Alost could no longer content
their cupidity, but in Antwerp there was gold enough for the gathering.
There was reason for the fears of the inhabitants, for the greedy longing
of their enemy. Probably no city in Christendom could at that day vie
with Antwerp in wealth and splendor. Its merchants lived in regal pomp
and luxury. In its numerous, massive warehouses were the treasures of
every clime. Still serving as the main entrepot of the world's traffic,
the Brabantine capital was the centre of that commercial system which was
soon to be superseded by a larger international life. In the midst of
the miseries which had so long been raining upon the Netherlands, the
stately and egotistical city seemed to have taken stronger root and to
flourish more freshly than ever. It was not wonderful that its palaces
and its magazines, glittering with splendor and bursting with treasure,
should arouse the avidity of a reckless and famishing soldiery. Had not
a handful of warriors of their own race rifled the golden Indies? Had
not their fathers, few in number, strong in courage and discipline,
revelled in the plunder of a new world? Here were the Indies in a single
city. Here were gold and silver, pearls and diamonds, ready and
portable; the precious fruit dropping, ripened, from the bough. Was it
to be tolerated that base, pacific burghers should monopolize the
treasure by which a band of heroes might be enriched?
A sense of coming evil diffused itself through the atmosphere. The air
seemed lurid with the impending storm, for the situation was one of
peculiar horror. The wealthiest city in Christendom lay at the mercy of
the strongest fastness in the world; a castle which had been built to
curb, not to protect, the town. It was now inhabited by a band of
brigands, outlawed by government, strong in discipline, furious from
penury, reckless by habit, desperate in circumstance--a crew which feared
not God, nor man, nor Devil. The palpitating quarry lay expecting hourly
the swoop of its trained and pitiless enemy, for the rebellious soldiers
were now in a thorough state of discipline. Sancho d'Avila, castellan of
the citadel, was recognized as the chief of the whole mutiny, the army
and the mutiny being now one. The band, entrenched at Alost, were upon
the best possible understanding with their brethren in the citadel, and
accepted without hesitation the arrangements of their superior. On the
aide of the Scheld, opposite Antwerp, a fortification had been thrown up
by Don Sancho's orders, and held by Julian Romero. Lier, Breda, as well
as Alost, were likewise ready to throw their reinforcements into the
citadel at a moment's warning. At the signal of their chief, the united
bands might sweep from their impregnable castle with a single impulse.
The city cried aloud for help, for it had become obvious that an attack
might be hourly expected. Meantime an attempt, made by Don Sancho
d'Avila to tamper with the German troops stationed within the walls, was
more than partially, successful. The forces were commanded by Colonel
Van Ende and Count Oberatein. Van Ende, a crafty traitor to his country,
desired no better than to join the mutiny on so promising an occasion,
and his soldiers, shared his sentiments. Oberatein, a brave, but
blundering German, was drawn into the net of treachery by the adroitness
of the Spaniard and the effrontery of his comrade. On the night of the
29th of October, half-bewildered and half-drunk, he signed a treaty with
Sancho d'Avilat and the three colonels--Fugger, Frondsberger, and
Polwiller. By this unlucky document, which was of course subscribed also
by Van Ende, it was agreed that the Antwerp burghers should be forthwith
disarmed; that their weapons should be sent into the citadel; that
Oberstein should hold the city at the disposition of Sancho d'Avila; that
he should refuse admittance to all troops which might be sent into the
city, excepting by command of Don Sancho, and that he should decline
compliance with any orders which he might receive from individuals
calling themselves the council of state, the states-general, or the
estates of Brabant. This treaty was signed, moreover; by Don Jeronimo
de Rods, then established in the citadel, and claiming to represent
exclusively his Majesty's government.
Hardly had this arrangement been concluded than the Count saw the trap
into which he had fallen. Without intending to do so, he had laid the
city at the mercy of its foe, but the only remedy which suggested itself
to his mind was an internal resolution not to keep his promises. The
burghers were suffered to retain their arms, while, on the other hand,
Don Sancho lost no time in despatching messages to Alost, to Lier, to
Breda, and even to Maestricht, that as large a force as possible might be
assembled for the purpose of breaking immediately the treaty of peace
which he had just concluded. Never was a solemn document, regarded with
such perfectly bad faith by all its signers as the accord, of the 29th of
October.
Three days afterwards, a large force of Walloons and Germans was
despatched from Brussels to the assistance of Antwerp. The command of
these troops was entrusted to the Marquis of Havre, whose brother, the
Duke of Aerschot; had been recently appointed chief superintendent of
military affairs by the deputies assembled at Ghent. The miscellaneous
duties comprehended under this rather vague denomination did not permit
the Duke to take charge of the expedition in person, and his younger
brother, a still more incompetent and unsubstantial character, was
accordingly appointed to the post. A number of young men, of high rank
but of lamentably low capacity, were associated with him. Foremost among
them was Philip, Count of Egmont, a youth who had inherited few of his
celebrated father's qualities, save personal courage and a love of
personal display. In character and general talents he was beneath
mediocrity. Beside these were the reckless but unstable De Heze,
who had executed the coup; d'etat against the State Council, De Berselen,
De Capres, D'Oyngies, and others, all vaguely desirous of achieving
distinction in those turbulent times, but few of them having any
political or religious convictions, and none of them possessing
experience or influence enough, to render them useful--at the impending
crisis.
On Friday morning, the 2nd of November, the troops appeared under the
walls of Antwerp. They consisted of twenty-three companies of infantry
and fourteen of cavalry, amounting to five thousand foot and twelve
hundred horse. They were nearly all Walloons, soldiers who had already
seen much active service, but unfortunately of a race warlike and fiery
indeed, but upon whose steadiness not much more dependence could be
placed at that day than in the age of Civilis. Champagny, brother of
Granvelle, was Governor of the city. He was a sincere Catholic, but a
still more sincere hater of the Spaniards. He saw in the mutiny a means
of accomplishing their expulsion, and had already offered to the Prince
of Orange his eager co-operation towards this result. In other matters
there could be but small sympathy between William the Silent and the
Cardinal's brother; but a common hatred united them, for a time at least,
in a common purpose.
When the troops first made their appearance before the walls, Champagny
was unwilling to grant them admittance. The addle-brained Oberstein had
confessed to him the enormous blunder which he had committed in his
midnight treaty, and at the same time ingenuously confessed his intention
of sending it to the winds. The enemy had extorted from his dulness or
his drunkenness a promise, which his mature and sober reason could not
consider binding. It is needless to say that Champagny rebuked him for
signing, and applauded him for breaking the treaty. At the same time its
ill effects were already seen in the dissensions which existed among the
German troops. Where all had been tampered with, and where the
commanders had set the example of infidelity, it would have been strange
if all had held firm. On the whole, however, Oberstein thought he could
answer for his own troops: Upon Van Ende's division, although the crafty
colonel dissembled his real intentions; very little reliance was placed.
Thus there was distraction within the walls. Among those whom the
burghers had been told to consider their defenders, there were probably.
many who were ready to join with their mortal foes at a moment's warning.
Under these circumstances, Champagny hesitated about admitting these
fresh troops from Brussels. He feared lest the Germans, who knew
themselves doubted, might consider themselves doomed. He trembled, lest
an irrepressible outbreak should occur within the walls, rendering the
immediate destruction of the city by the Spaniards from without
inevitable. Moreover, he thought it more desirable that this auxiliary
force should be disposed at different points outside, in order to
intercept the passage of the numerous bodies of Spaniards and other
mutineers, who from various quarters would soon be on their way to the
citadel. Havre, however, was so peremptory, and the burghers were so
importunate, that Champagny was obliged to recede from his opposition
before twenty-four hours had elapsed. Unwilling to take the
responsibility of a farther refusal, he admitted the troops through the
Burgherhout gate, on Saturday, the 3rd of November, at ten o'clock in the
morning.
The Marquis of Havre, as commander-in-chief, called a council of war.
It assembled at Count Oberstein's quarters, and consulted at first
concerning a bundle of intercepted letters which Havre had brought with
him. These constituted a correspondence between Sancho d'Avila with the
heads of the mutiny at Alost, and many other places. The letters were
all dated subsequently to Don Sancho's treaty with Oberstein, and
contained arrangements for an immediate concentration of the whole
available Spanish force at the citadel.
The treachery was so manifest, that Oberstein felt all self-reproach for
his own breach of faith to be superfluous. It was however evident that
the attack was to be immediately expected. What was to be done? All the
officers counselled the immediate erection of a bulwark on the side of
the city exposed to the castle, but there were no miners nor engineers.
Champagny, however, recommended a skilful and experienced engineer to
superintend; the work in the city; and pledged himself that burghers
enough would volunteer as miners. In less than an hour, ten or twelve
thousand persons, including multitudes of women of all ranks, were at
work upon the lines marked out by the engineer. A ditch and breast-work
extending from the gate of the Beguins to the street of the Abbey Saint
Michael, were soon in rapid progress. Meantime, the newly arrived
troops, with military insolence, claimed the privilege of quartering
themselves in the best houses which they could find. They already began
to, insult and annoy the citizens whom they had been sent to defend; nor
were they destined to atone, by their subsequent conduct in the face of
the enemy, for the brutality with which they treated their friends.
Champagny, however; was ill-disposed to brook their licentiousness. They
had been sent to protect the city and the homes of Antwerp from invasion.
They were not to establish themselves, at every fireside on their first
arrival. There was work enough for them out of doors, and they were to
do that work at once. He ordered them to prepare for a bivouac in, the
streets, and flew from house to house, sword in hand; driving forth the
intruders at imminent peril of his life. Meantime, a number of Italian
and Spanish merchants fled from the city, and took refuge in the castle.
The Walloon soldiers were for immediately plundering their houses, as if
plunder had been the object for which they had been sent to Antwerp. It
was several hours before Champagny, with all his energy, was able to
quell these disturbances.
In the course of the day, Oberstein received a letter from Don Sandra
d'Avila, calling solemnly upon him to fulfil his treaty of the 29th of
October. The German colonels from the citadel had, on the previous
afternoon, held a personal interview with Oberstein beneath the walls,
which had nearly ended in blows, and they had been obliged to save
themselves by flight from the anger of the Count's soldiers, enraged at
the deceit by which their leader had been so nearly entrapped. This
summons of ridiculous solemnity to keep a treaty which had already been
torn to shreds by both parties, Oberstein answered with defiance and
contempt. The reply was an immediate cannonade from the batteries of
the citadel; which made the position of those erecting the ramparts
excessively dangerous. The wall was strengthened with bales of
merchandise, casks of earth, upturned wagons, and similar bulky objects,
hastily piled together. In, some places it was sixteen feet high; in
others less than six. Night fell before the fortification was nearly
completed. Unfortunately it was bright moonlight. The cannon from the
fortress continued to play upon the half-finished works. The Walloons,
and at last the citizens, feared to lift their heads above their frail
rampart. The senators, whom Champagny had deputed to superintend the
progress of the enterprise, finding the men so indisposed, deserted their
posts. They promised themselves that, in the darkest hour of the
following night, the work should be thoroughly completed. Alas! all
hours of the coming night were destined to be dark enough, but in them
was to be done no manner of work for defence. On Champagny alone seemed
devolved an the labor and all the responsibility. He did his duty well,
but he was but one man. Alone, with a heart full of anxiety, he wandered
up and down all the night. With his own hands, assisted only by a few
citizens and his own servants, he planted all the cannon with which they
were provided, in the "Fencing Court," at a point where the battery might
tell upon the castle. Unfortunately, the troops from Brussels had
brought no artillery with them, and the means of defence against the
strongest fortress in Europe were meagre indeed. The rampart had been
left very weak at many vital points. A single upturned wagon was placed
across the entrance to the important street of the Beguins. This
negligence was to cost the city dear. At daybreak, there was a council
held in Oberstein's quarters. Nearly all Champagny's directions had been
neglected. He had desired that strong detachments should be posted
during the night at various places of Security on the outskirts of the
town, for the troops which were expected to arrive in small bodies at the
citadel from various parts, might have thus been cut off before reaching
their destination. Not even scouts had been stationed in sufficient
numbers to obtain information of what was occurring outside. A thick
mist hung over the city that eventful morning. Through its almost
impenetrable veil, bodies of men had been seen moving into the castle,
and the tramp of cavalry had been distinctly heard, and the troops of
Romero, Vargas, Oliveira, and Valdez had already arrived from Lier,
Breda, Maestricht, and from the forts on the Scheld.
The whole available force in the city was mustered without delay. Havre
had claimed for his post the defence of the lines opposite the citadel,
the place of responsibility and honor. Here the whole body of Walloons
were stationed, together with a few companies of Germans. The ramparts,
as stated, were far from impregnable, but it was hoped that this living
rampart of six thousand men, standing on their own soil, and in front of
the firesides and altars of their own countrymen; would prove a
sufficient bulwark even against Spanish fury. Unhappily, the living
barrier proved more frail than the feeble breastwork which the hands of
burghers and women had constructed. Six thousand men were disposed along
the side of the city opposite the fortress. The bulk of the German
troops was stationed at different points on the more central streets and
squares. The cavalry was posted on the opposite side of the city, along
the Horse-market, and fronting the "New-town." The stars were still in
the sky when Champagny got on horseback and rode through the streets,
calling on the burghers to arm and assemble at different points. The
principal places of rendezvous were the Cattlemarket and the Exchange.
He rode along the lines of the Walloon regiments, conversing with the
officers, Egmont, De Heze, and others, and encouraging the men, and went
again to the Fencing Court, where he pointed the cannon with his own
hand, and ordered their first discharge at the fortress. Thence he rode
to the end of the Beguin street, where he dismounted and walked out upon
the edge of the esplanade which stretched between the city and the
castle. On this battle-ground a combat was even then occurring between a
band of burghers and a reconnoitring party from the citadel. Champagny
saw with satisfaction that the Antwerpers were victorious. They were
skirmishing well with their disciplined foe, whom they at last beat back
to the citadel. His experienced eye saw, however, that the retreat was
only the signal for a general onslaught, which was soon to follow; and he
returned into the city to give the last directions.
At ten o'clock, a moving wood was descried, approaching the citadel from
the south-west. The whole body of the mutineers from Alost, wearing
green branches in their helmets--had arrived under command of their
Eletto, Navarrete. Nearly three thousand in number, they rushed into the
castle, having accomplished their march of twenty-four miles since three
o'clock in the morning. They were received with open arms. Sancho
d'Avila ordered food and refreshments to be laid before them, but they
refused everything but a draught of wine. They would dine in Paradise,
they said, or sup in Antwerp. Finding his allies in such spirit, Don
Sancho would not balk their humor. Since early morning, his own veterans
had been eagerly awaiting his signal, "straining upon the start." The
troops of Romero, Vargas, Valdez, were no less impatient. At about an
hour before noon, nearly every living man in the citadel was mustered for
the attack, hardly men enough being left behind to guard the gates. Five
thousand veteran foot soldiers, besides six hundred cavalry, armed to the
teeth, sallied from the portals of Alva's citadel. In the counterscarp
they fell upon their knees, to invoke, according to custom, the blessing
of God upon the Devil's work, which they were about to commit. The
Bletto bore a standard, one side of which was emblazoned with the
crucified Saviour, and the other with the Virgin Mary. The image of Him
who said, "Love-your enemies," and the gentle face of the Madonna, were
to smile from heaven upon deeds which might cause a shudder in the depths
of hell. Their brief orisons concluded, they swept forward to the city.
Three thousand Spaniards, under their Eletto, were to enter by the street
of Saint Michael; the Germans, and the remainder of the Spanish foot,
commanded by Romero, through that of Saint George. Champagny saw them
coming, and spoke a last word of encouragement to the Walloons. The next
moment the compact mass struck the barrier, as the thunderbolt descends
from the cloud. There was scarcely a struggle. The Walloons, not
waiting to look their enemy in the face, abandoned the posts which whey
had themselves claimed. The Spaniards crashed through the bulwark, as
though it had been a wall of glass. The Eletto was first to mount the
rampart; the next instant he was shot dead, while his followers,
undismayed, sprang over his body, and poured into the streets. The fatal
gap, due to timidity and carelessness, let in the destructive tide.
Champagny, seeing that the enemies had all crossed the barrier; leaped
over a garden wall, passed through a house into a narrow lane, and thence
to the nearest station of the German troops. Hastily collecting a small
force, he led them in person to the rescue. The Germans fought well,
died well, but they could not reanimate the courage of the Walloons, and
all were now in full retreat, pursued by the ferocious Spaniards. In
vain Champagny stormed among them; in vain he strove to rally their
broken ranks. With his own hand he seized a banner from a retreating
ensign, and called upon the nearest soldiers to make's stand against the
foe. It was to bid the flying clouds pause before the tempest. Torn,
broken, aimless, the scattered troops whirled through the streets before
the pursuing wrath. Champagny, not yet despairing, galloped hither and
thither, calling upon the burghers everywhere to rise in defence of their
homes, nor did he call in vain. They came forth from every place of
rendezvous, from every alley, from every house. They fought as men fight
to defend their hearths and altars, but what could individual devotion
avail, against the compact, disciplined, resistless mass of their foes?
The order of defence was broken, there was no system, no concert, no
rallying point, no authority. So soon as it was known that the Spaniards
had crossed the rampart, that its six thousand defenders were in full
retreat, it was inevitable that a panic should seize the city.
Their entrance once effected, the Spanish force had separated; according
to previous arrangement, into two divisions, one half charging up the
long street of Saint Michael, the other forcing its way through the
Street of Saint Joris. "Santiago, Santiago! Espana, Espana! a sangre, a
carne, a fuego, a Sacco!" Saint James, Spain, blood, flesh, fire,
sack!!--such were the hideous cries which rang through every quarter of
the city, as the savage horde advanced. Van Ende, with his German
troops, had been stationed by the Marquis of Havre to defend the Saint
Joris gate, but no sooner, did the Spaniards under Vargas present
themselves, than he deserted to them instantly with his whole force.
United with the Spanish cavalry, these traitorous defenders of Antwerp
dashed in pursuit of those who had only been fainthearted. Thus the
burghers saw themselves attacked by many of their friends, deserted by
more. Whom were they to trust? Nevertheless, Oberstein's Germans were
brave and faithful, resisting to the last, and dying every man in his
harness. The tide of battle flowed hither and thither, through every
street and narrow lane. It poured along the magnificent Place de Meer,
where there was an obstinate contest. In front of the famous Exchange,
where in peaceful hours, five thousand merchants met daily, to arrange
the commercial affairs of Christendom, there was a determined rally, a
savage slaughter. The citizens and faithful Germans, in this broader
space, made a stand against their pursuers. The tesselated marble
pavement, the graceful, cloister-like arcades ran red with blood. The
ill-armed burghers faced their enemies clad in complete panoply, but they
could only die for their homes. The massacre at this point was enormous,
the resistance at last overcome.
Meantime, the Spanish cavalry had cleft its way through the city. On the
side farthest removed from the: castle; along the Horse-market, opposite
the New-town, the states dragoons and the light horse of Beveren had been
posted, and the flying masses of pursuers and pursued swept at last
through this outer circle. Champagny was already there. He essayed, as
his last hope, to rally the cavalry for a final stand, but the effort was
fruitless. Already seized by the panic, they had attempted to rush from
the city through the gate of Eeker. It was locked; they then turned and
fled towards the Red-gate, where they were met face to face by Don Pedro
Tassis, who charged upon them with his dragoons. Retreat seemed
hopeless. A horseman in complete armor, with lance in rest, was seen to
leap from the parapet of the outer wall into the moat below, whence,
still on horseback, he escaped with life. Few were so fortunate. The
confused mob of fugitives and conquerors, Spaniards, Walloons, Germans,
burghers, struggling, shouting, striking, cursing, dying, swayed hither
and thither like a stormy sea. Along the spacious Horse-market, the
fugitives fled toward towards the quays. Many fell beneath the swords
of the Spaniards, numbers were trodden to death by the hoofs of horses,
still greater multitudes were hunted into the Scheld. Champagny, who
had thought it possible, even at the last moment, to make a stand in the
Newtown, and to fortify the Palace of the Hansa, saw himself deserted.
With great daring and presence of mind, he effected his escape to the
fleet of the Prince of Orange in the river. The Marquis of Havre, of
whom no deeds of valor on that eventful day have been recorded, was
equally successful. The unlucky Oberstein, attempting to leap into a
boat, missed his footing, and oppressed by the weight of his armor, was
drowned.
Meantime, while the short November day was fast declining, the combat
still raged in the interior of the city. Various currents of conflict,
forcing their separate way through many streets, had at last mingled in
the Grande Place. Around this irregular, not very spacious square, stood
the gorgeous Hotel de Ville, and the tall, many storied, fantastically
gabled, richly decorated palaces of the guilds, Here a long struggle took
place. It was terminated for a time by the cavalry of Vargas, who,
arriving through the streets of Saint Joris, accompanied by the traitor
Van Ende, charged decisively into the melee. The masses were broken, but
multitudes of armed men found refuge in the buildings, and every house
became a fortress. From, every window and balcony a hot fire was poured
into the square, as, pent in a corner, the burghers stood at last at bay.
It was difficult to carry the houses by storm, but they were soon set on
fire. A large number of sutlers and other varlets had accompanied the
Spaniards from the citadel, bringing torches and kindling materials for
the express purpose of firing the town. With great dexterity, these
means were now applied, and in a brief interval, the City-hall, and other
edifices on the square were in flames. The conflagration spread with
rapidity, house after house, street after street, taking fire. Nearly a
thousand buildings, in the most splendid and wealthy quarter of the city,
were soon in a blaze, and multitudes of human beings were burned with
them. In the City-hall many were consumed, while others, leaped from the
windows to renew the combat below. The many tortuous, streets which led
down a slight descent from the rear of the Town house to the quays were
all one vast conflagration. On the other side, the magnificent
cathedral, separated from the Grande Place by a single row of buildings,
was lighted up, but not attacked by the flames. The tall spire cast its
gigantic shadow across the last desperate conflict. In the street called
the Canal au Sucre, immediately behind the Town-house, there was a fierce
struggle, a horrible massacre. A crowd of burghers; grave magistrates,
and such of the German soldiers as remained alive, still confronted the
ferocious Spaniards. There amid the flaming desolation, Goswyn Verreyck,
the heroic margrave of the city, fought with the energy of hatred and
despair. The burgomaster, Van der Meere, lay dead at his feet; senators,
soldiers, citizens, fell fast around him, and he sank at last upon a heap
of slain. With him effectual resistance ended. The remaining combatants
were butchered, or were slowly forced downward to perish in the Scheld.
Women, children, old men, were killed in countless numbers, and still,
through all this havoc, directly over the heads of the struggling throng,
suspended in mid-air above the din and smoke of the conflict, there
sounded, every half-quarter of every hour, as if in gentle mockery, from
the belfry of the cathedral, the tender and melodious chimes.
Never was there a more monstrous massacre, even in the blood-stained
history of the Netherlands. It was estimated that, in the course of this
and the two following days, not less than eight thousand human beings
were murdered. The Spaniards seemed to cast off even the vizard of
humanity. Hell seemed emptied of its fiends. Night fell upon the scene
before the soldiers were masters of the city; but worse horrors began
after the contest was ended. This army of brigands had come thither with
a definite, practical purpose, for it was not blood-thirst, nor lust, nor
revenge, which had impelled them, but it was avarice, greediness for
gold. For gold they had waded through all this blood and fire. Never
had men more simplicity of purpose, more directness in its execution.
They had conquered their India at last; its golden mines lay all before
them, and every sword should open a shaft. Riot and rape might be
deferred; even murder, though congenial to their taste, was only
subsidiary to their business. They had come to take possession of the
city's wealth, and they set themselves faithfully to accomplish their
task. For gold, infants were dashed out of existence in their mothers'
arms; for gold, parents were tortured in their children's presence; for
gold, brides were scourged to death before their husbands' eyes.
Wherever, treasure was suspected, every expedient which ingenuity;
sharpened by greediness, could suggest, was employed to-extort it from
its possessors. The fire, spreading more extensively and more rapidly
than had been desired through the wealthiest quarter of the city, had
unfortunately devoured a vast amount of property. Six millions, at
least, had thus been swallowed; a destruction by which no one had
profited. There was, however, much left. The strong boxes of the
merchants, the gold, silver, and precious jewelry, the velvets, satins,
brocades, laces, and similar well concentrated and portable plunder, were
rapidly appropriated. So far the course was plain and easy, but in
private houses it was more difficult. The cash, plate, and other
valuables of individuals were not so easily discovered. Torture was,
therefore; at once employed to discover the hidden treasures. After all
had been, given, if the sum seemed too little, the proprietors were
brutally punished for their poverty or their supposed dissimulation.
A gentlewoman, named Fabry, with her aged mother and other females of the
family, had taken refuge in the cellar of her mansion. As the day was
drawing to a close, a band of plunderers entered, who, after ransacking
the house, descended to the cellarage. Finding the door barred, they
forced it open with gunpowder. The mother, who was nearest the entrance,
fell dead on the threshold. Stepping across her mangled body, the
brigands sprang upon her daughter, loudly demanding the property which
they believed to be concealed. They likewise insisted on being informed
where the master of the house had taken refuge. Protestations of
ignorance as to hidden treasure, or the whereabouts of her husband, who,
for aught she knew, was lying dead in the streets, were of no avail. To
make her more communicative, they hanged her on a beam in the cellar, and
after a few moments cut her down before life was extinct. Still
receiving no satisfactory reply, where a satisfactory reply was
impossible, they hanged her again. Again, after another brief interval
they gave her a second release, and a fresh interrogatory. This
barbarity they repeated several times, till they were satisfied that
there was nothing to be gained by it, while, on, the other hand, they
were losing much valuable time. Hoping to be more successful elsewhere,
they left her hanging for the last time, and trooped off to fresher
fields. Strange to relate, the person thus horribly tortured, survived.
A servant in her family, married to a Spanish soldier, providentially
entered the house in time to rescue her perishing mistress. She was
restored to existence, but never to reason. Her brain was hopelessly
crazed, and she passed the remainder of her life wandering about her
house, or feebly digging in her garden for the buried treasure which she
had been thus fiercely solicited to reveal.
A wedding-feast was rudely interrupted. Two young persons, neighbours of
opulent families, had been long betrothed, and the marriage day had been
fixed for Sunday, the fatal 4th of November. The guests were assembled,
the ceremony concluded, the nuptial banquet in progress, when the
horrible outcries in the streets proclaimed that the Spaniards had broken
loose. Hour after hour of trembling expectation succeeded. At last,
a thundering at the gate proclaimed the arrival of a band of brigands.
Preceded by their captain, a large number of soldiers forced their way
into the house, ransacking every chamber, no opposition being offered by
the family and friends, too few and powerless to cope with this band of
well-armed ruffians. Plate chests, wardrobes, desks, caskets of jewelry,
were freely offered, eagerly accepted, but not found sufficient, and to
make the luckless wretches furnish more than they possessed, the usual
brutalities were employed. The soldiers began by striking the bridegroom
dead. The bride fell shrieking into her mother's arms, whence she was
torn by the murderers, who immediately put the mother to death, and an
indiscriminate massacre then followed the fruitless attempt to obtain by
threats and torture treasure which did not exist. The bride, who was of
remarkable beauty, was carried off to the citadel. Maddened by this last
outrage, the father, who was the only man of the party left alive, rushed
upon the Spaniards. Wresting a sword from one of the crew, the old man
dealt with it so fiercely, that he stretched more than one enemy dead at
his feet, but it is needless to add that he was soon despatched.
Meantime, while the party were concluding the plunder of the mansion, the
bride was left in a lonely apartment of the fortress. Without wasting
time in fruitless lamentation, she resolved to quit the life which a few
hours had made so desolate. She had almost succeeded in hanging herself
with a massive gold chain which she wore, when her captor entered the
apartment. Inflamed, not with lust, but with avarice, excited not by her
charms, but by her jewelry; he rescued her from her perilous position.
He then took possession of her chain and the other trinkets with which
her wedding-dress was adorned, and caused her; to be entirely stripped of
her clothing. She was then scourged with rods till her beautiful body
was bathed in blood, and at last alone, naked, nearly mad, was sent back
into the city. Here the forlorn creature wandered up and down through
the blazing streets, among the heaps of dead and dying, till she was at
last put out of her misery by a gang of soldiers.
Such are a few isolated instances, accidentally preserved in their
details, of the general horrors inflicted on this occasion. Others
innumerable have sunk into oblivion. On the morning of the 5th of
November, Antwerp presented a ghastly sight. The magnificent marble
Town-house, celebrated as a "world's wonder," even in that age and
country, in which so much splendour was lavished on municipal palaces,
stood a blackened ruin--all but the walls destroyed, while its archives,
accounts, and other valuable contents, had perished. The more splendid
portion of the city had been consumed; at least five hundred palaces,
mostly of marble or hammered stone, being a smouldering mass of
destruction. The dead bodies of those fallen in the massacre were on
every side, in greatest profusion around the Place de Meer, among the
Gothic pillars of the Exchange, and in the streets near the Town-house.
The German soldiers lay in their armor, some with their heads burned from
their bodies, some with legs and arms consumed by the flames through
which they had fought. The Margrave Goswyn Verreyck, the burgomaster Van
der Meere, the magistrates Lancelot Van Urselen, Nicholas Van Boekholt,
and other leading citizens, lay among piles of less distinguished slain.
They remained unburied until the overseers of the poor, on whom the
living had then more importunate claims than the dead, were compelled by
Roda to bury them out of the pauper fund. The murderers were too thrifty
to be at funeral charges for their victims. The ceremony was not hastily
performed, for the number of corpses had not been completed. Two days
longer the havoc lasted in the city. Of all the crimes which men can
commit, whether from deliberate calculation or in the frenzy of passion,
hardly one was omitted, for riot, gaming, rape, which had been postponed
to the more stringent claims of robbery and murder, were now rapidly
added to the sum of atrocities. History has recorded the account
indelibly on her brazen tablets; it can be adjusted only at the judgment-
seat above.
Of all the deeds of darkness yet compassed in the Netherlands, this was
the worst. It was called The Spanish Fury, by which dread name it has
been known for ages. The city, which had been a world of wealth and
splendor, was changed to a charnel-house, and from that hour its
commercial prosperity was blasted. Other causes had silently girdled the
yet green and flourishing tree, but the Spanish Fury was the fire which
consumed it to ashes. Three thousand dead bodies were discovered in the
streets, as many more were estimated to have perished in the Scheld, and
nearly an equal number were burned or destroyed in other ways. Eight
thousand persons undoubtedly were put to death. Six millions of property
were destroyed by the fire, and at least as much more was obtained by the
Spaniards. In this enormous robbery no class of people was respected.
Foreign merchants, living under the express sanction and protection of
the Spanish monarch, were plundered with as little reserve as Flemings.
Ecclesiastics of the Roman Church were compelled to disgorge their wealth
as freely as Calvinists. The rich were made to contribute all their
abundance, and the poor what could be wrung from their poverty. Neither
paupers nor criminals were safe. Captain Caspar Ortis made a brilliant
speculation by taking possession of the Stein, or city prison, whence he
ransomed all the inmates who could find means to pay for their liberty.
Robbers, murderers, even Anabaptists, were thus again let loose. Rarely
has so small a band obtained in three days' robbery so large an amount of
wealth. Four or five millions divided among five thousand soldiers made
up for long arrearages, and the Spaniards had reason to congratulate
themselves upon having thus taken the duty of payment into their own
hands. It is true that the wages of iniquity were somewhat unequally
distributed, somewhat foolishly squandered. A private trooper was known
to lose ten thousand crowns in one day in a gambling transaction at the
Bourse, for the soldiers, being thus handsomely in funds, became desirous
of aping the despised and plundered merchants, and resorted daily to the
Exchange, like men accustomed to affairs. The dearly purchased gold was
thus lightly squandered by many, while others, more prudent, melted their
portion into sword-hilts, into scabbards, even into whole suits of armor,
darkened, by precaution, to appear made entirely of iron. The brocades,
laces, and jewelry of Antwerp merchants were converted into coats of mail
for their destroyers. The goldsmiths, however, thus obtained an
opportunity to outwit their plunderers, and mingled in the golden armor
which they were forced to furnish much more alloy than their employers
knew. A portion of the captured booty was thus surreptitiously redeemed.
In this Spanish Fury many more were massacred in Antwerp than in the
Saint Bartholomew at Paris. Almost as many living human beings were
dashed out of existence now as there had been statues destroyed in the
memorable image-breaking of Antwerp, ten years before, an event which had
sent such a thrill of horror through the heart of Catholic Christendom.
Yet the Netherlanders and the Protestants of Europe may be forgiven, if
they regarded this massacre of their brethren with as much execration as
had been bestowed upon that fury against stocks and stones. At least,
the image-breakers, had been actuated by an idea, and their hands were
polluted neither with blood nor rapine. Perhaps the Spaniards had been.
governed equally by religious fanaticism.--Might not they believe they
were meriting well of their Mother Church while they were thus
disencumbering infidels of their wealth and earth of its infidels?
Had not the Pope and his cardinals gone to church in solemn procession,
to render thanks unto God for the massacre of Paris? Had not cannon
thundered and beacons blazed to commemorate that auspicious event?
Why should not the Antwerp executioners claim equal commendation? Even
if in their delirium they had confounded friend with foe, Catholic with
Calvinist, and church property with lay, could they not point to an equal
number of dead bodies, and to an incredibly superior amount of plunder?
Marvellously few Spaniards were slain in these eventful days. Two
hundred killed is the largest number stated. The discrepancy seems
monstrous, but it is hardly more than often existed between the losses
inflicted and sustained by the Spaniards in such combats. Their prowess
was equal to their ferocity, and this was enough to make them seem
endowed with preterhuman powers. When it is remembered, also, that the
burghers were insufficiently armed, that many of their defenders turned
against them, that many thousands fled in the first moments of the
encounter--and when the effect of a sudden and awful panic is duly
considered, the discrepancy between the number of killed on the two sides
will not seem so astonishing.
A few officers of distinction were taken, alive and carried to the
castle. Among these were the Seigneur de Capres and young Count Egmont.
The councillor Jerome de Roda was lounging on a chair in an open gallery
when these two gentlemen were brought before him, and Capres was base
enough to make a low obeisance to the man who claimed to represent the
whole government of his Majesty. The worthy successor of Vargas replied
to his captive's greeting by a "kick in his stomach," adding, with a
brutality which his prototype might have envied, "Ah puto tradidor,--
whoreson traitor, let me have no salutations from such as you." Young
Egmont, who had been captured, fighting bravely at the head of coward
troops, by Julian Romero, who nine years before had stood on his father's
scaffold, regarded this brutal scene with haughty indignation. This
behaviour had more effect upon Roda than the suppleness of Capres.
"I am sorry for your misfortune, Count," said the councillor, without
however rising from his chair; "such is the lot of those who take arms
against their King." This was the unfortunate commencement of Philip
Egmont's career, which was destined to be inglorious, vacillating, base,
and on more than one occasion unlucky.
A shiver ran through the country as the news of the horrible crime was
spread, but it was a shiver of indignation, not of fear. Already the
negotiations at Ghent between the representatives of the Prince and of
Holland and Zealand with the deputies of the other provinces were in a
favorable train, and the effect of this event upon their counsels was
rather quickening than appalling. A letter from Jerome de Roda to the
King was intercepted, giving an account of the transaction. In that
document the senator gave the warmest praise to Sancho d'Avila, Julian
Romero, Alonzo de Vargas, Francis Verdugo, as well as to the German
colonels Fugger, Frondsberger, Polwiller, and others who had most exerted
themselves in the massacre. "I wish your Majesty much good of this
victory," concluded the councillor, "'tis a very great one, and the
damage to the city is enormous." This cynical view was not calculated to
produce a soothing effect on the exasperated minds of the people. On the
other hand, the estates of Brabant addressed an eloquent appeal to the
states-general, reciting their wrongs, and urging immediate action.
"'Tis notorious," said the remonstrants, "that Antwerp was but yesterday
the first and principal ornament of all Europe; the refuge of all the
nations of the world; the source and supply of countless treasure; the
nurse of all arts and industry; the protectress of the Roman Catholic
religion; the guardian of science and virtue; and, above all these
preeminences; more than faithful and obedient to her sovereign prince and
lord. The city is now changed to a gloomy cavern, filled with robbers
and murderers, enemies of God, the King, and all good subjects." They
then proceeded to recite the story of the massacre, whereof the memory
shall be abominable so long as the world stands, and concluded with an
urgent appeal for redress. They particularly suggested that an edict
should forthwith be passed, forbidding the alienation of property and the
exportation of goods in any form from Antwerp, together with concession
of the right to the proprietors of reclaiming their stolen property
summarily, whenever and wheresoever it might be found. In accordance
with these instructions, an edict was passed, but somewhat tardily, in
the hope of relieving some few of the evil consequences by which the
Antwerp Fury had been attended.
At about the same time the Prince of Orange addressed a remarkable letter
to the states-general then assembled at Ghent, urging them to hasten the
conclusion of the treaty. The news of the massacre, which furnished an
additional and most vivid illustration of the truth of his letter, had
not then reached him at Middelburg, but the earnestness of his views,
taken in connexion with this last dark deed, exerted a powerful and
indelible effect. The letter was a masterpiece, because it was
necessary, in his position, to inflame without alarming; to stimulate the
feelings which were in unison, without shocking those which, if aroused,
might prove discordant. Without; therefore, alluding in terms to the
religious question, he dwelt upon the necessity of union, firmness, and
wariness. If so much had been done by Holland and Zealand, how much more
might be hoped when all the provinces were united? "The principal flower
of the Spanish army has fallen," he said, "without having been able to
conquer one of those provinces from those whom they call, in mockery,
poor beggars; yet what is that handful of cities compared to all the
provinces which might join us in the quarrel?" He warned the states of
the necessity of showing a strong and united front; the King having been
ever led to consider the movement in the Netherlands a mere conspiracy of
individuals. The King told me himself; in 1559," said Orange, "that if
the estates had no pillars to lean upon, they would not talk so loud."
It was, therefore, necessary to show that prelates, abbots, monks,
seigniors, gentlemen, burghers, and peasants, the whole people in short,
now cried with one voice, and desired with one will. To such a
demonstration the King would not dare oppose himself. By thus preserving
a firm and united front, sinking all minor differences, they would,
moreover, inspire their friends and foreign princes with confidence.
The princes of Germany, the lords and gentlemen of France, the Queen of
England, although sympathizing with the misfortunes of the Netherlanders,
had been unable effectually to help them, so long as their disunion
prevented them from helping themselves; so long as even their appeal
to arms seemed merely a levy of bucklers, an emotion of the populace,
which, like a wave of the sea, rises and sinks again as soon as risen."
While thus exciting to union and firmness, he also took great pains to
instil the necessity of wariness. They were dealing with an artful foe.
Intercepted letters had already proved that the old dissimulation was
still to be employed; that while Don John of Austria was on his way, the
Netherlanders were to be lulled into confidence by glozing speeches.
Roda was provided by the King with a secret programme of instructions for
the new Governor's guidance and Don Sancho d'Avila, for his countenance
to the mutineers of Alost, had been applauded to the echo in Spain. Was
not this applause a frequent indication of the policy to be adopted by
Don John, and a thousand times more significative one than the unmeaning
phrases of barren benignity with which public documents might be crammed?
"The old tricks are again brought into service," said the Prince;
"therefore 'tis necessary to ascertain your veritable friends, to tear
off the painted masks from those who, under pretence-of not daring to
displease the King, are seeking to swim between two waters. 'Tis
necessary to have a touchstone; to sign a declaration in such wise that
you may know whom to trust, and whom to suspect."
The massacre at Antwerp and the eloquence of the Prince produced a most
quickening effect upon the Congress at Ghent. Their deliberations had
proceeded with decorum and earnestness, in the midst of the cannonading
against the citadel, and the fortress fell on the same day which saw the
conclusion of the treaty.
This important instrument, by which the sacrifices and exertions of the
Prince were, for a brief season, at least, rewarded, contained twenty-
five articles. The Prince of Orange, with the estates of Holland and
Zealand, on the one side, and the provinces signing, or thereafter to
sign the treaty, on the other, agreed that there should be a mutual
forgiving and forgetting, as regarded the past. They vowed a close and
faithful friendship for the future. They plighted a mutual promise to
expel the Spaniards from the Netherlands without delay. As soon as this
great deed should be done, there was to be a convocation of the states-
general, on the basis of that assembly before which the abdication of the
Emperor had taken place. By this congress, the affairs of religion in
Holland and Zealand should be regulated, as well as the surrender of
fortresses and other places belonging to his Majesty. There was to be
full liberty of communication and traffic between the citizens of the
one side and the other. It should not be legal, however, for those of
Holland and Zealand to attempt anything outside their own territory
against the Roman Catholic religion, nor for cause hereof to injure or
irritate any one, by deed or word. All the placards and edicts on the
subject of heresy, together with the criminal ordinances made by the Duke
of Alva, were suspended, until the states-general should otherwise
ordain. The Prince was to remain lieutenant, admiral, and general for
his Majesty in Holland, Zealand, and the associated places, till
otherwise provided by the states-general; after the departure of the
Spaniards. The cities and places included in the Prince's commission,
but not yet acknowledging his authority, should receive satisfaction from
him, as to the point of religion and other matters, before subscribing to
the union. All prisoners, and particularly the Comte de Bossu, should be
released without ransom. All estates and other property not already
alienated should be restored, all confiscations since 1566 being declared
null and void. The Countess Palatine, widow of Brederode, and Count de
Buren, son of the Prince of Orange, were expressly named in this
provision. Prelates and ecclesiastical persons; having property in
Holland and Zealand, should be reinstated, if possible; but in case of
alienation, which was likely to be generally the case; there should be
reasonable compensation. It was to be decided by the states-general
whether the provinces should discharge the debts incurred by the Prince
of Orange in his two campaigns. Provinces and cities should not have the
benefit of this union until they had signed the treaty, but they should
be permitted to sign it when they chose.
This memorable document was subscribed at Ghent, on the 8th of November,
by Saint Aldegonde, with eight other commissioners appointed by the
Prince of Orange and the estates of Holland on the one side, and by
Elbertus Leoninus and other deputies appointed by Brabant, Flanders,
Artois, Hainault, Valenciennes, Lille, Douay, Orchies, Namur, Tournay,
Utrecht, and Mechlin on the other side.
The arrangement was a masterpiece of diplomacy on the part of the Prince,
for it was as effectual a provision for the safety of the Reformed
religion as could be expected under the circumstances. It was much,
considering the change which had been wrought of late years in the
fifteen provinces, that they should consent to any treaty with their two
heretic sisters. It was much more that the Pacification should recognize
the new religion as the established creed of Holland and Zealand, while
at the same time the infamous edicts of Charles were formally abolished.
In the fifteen Catholic provinces, there was to be no prohibition of
private Reformed worship, and it might be naturally expected that with
time and the arrival of the banished religionists, a firmer stand would
be taken in favor of the Reformation. Meantime, the new religion was
formally established in two provinces, and tolerated, in secret, in the
other fifteen; the Inquisition was for ever abolished, and the whole
strength of the nation enlisted to expel the foreign soldiery from the
soil. This was the work of William the Silent, and the great Prince thus
saw the labor of years crowned with, at least, a momentary success. His
satisfaction was very great when it was announced to him, many days
before the exchange of the signatures, that the treaty had been
concluded. He was desirous that the Pacification should be referred for
approval, not to the municipal magistrates only, but to the people
itself. In all great emergencies, the man who, in his whole character,
least resembled a demagogue, either of antiquity or of modern times, was
eager for a fresh expression of the popular will. On this occasion,
however, the demand for approbation was superfluous. The whole country
thought with his thoughts, and spoke with his words, and the
Pacification, as soon as published, was received with a shout of joy.
Proclaimed in the marketplace of every city and village, it was ratified,
not by votes, but by hymns of thanksgiving, by triumphal music,
by thundering of cannon, and by the blaze of beacons, throughout the
Netherlands. Another event added to the satisfaction of the hour. The
country so recently, and by deeds of such remarkable audacity, conquered
by the Spaniards in the north, was recovered almost simultaneously with
the conclusion of the Ghent treaty. It was a natural consequence of the
great mutiny. The troops having entirely deserted Mondragon, it became
necessary for that officer to abandon Zierickzee, the city which had been
won with so much valor. In the beginning of November, the capital, and
with it the whole island of Schouwen, together with the rest of Zealand,
excepting Tholen, was recovered by Count Hohenlo, lieutenant-general of
the Prince of Orange, and acting according to his instructions.
Thus, on this particular point of time, many great events had been
crowded. At the very same moment Zealand had been redeemed, Antwerp
ruined, and the league of all the Netherlands against the Spaniards
concluded. It now became known that another and most important event had
occurred at the same instant. On the day before the Antwerp massacre,
four days before the publication of the Ghent treaty, a foreign cavalier,
attended by a Moorish slave and by six men-at-arms, rode into the streets
of Luxemburg. The cavalier was Don Ottavio Gonzaga, brother of the
Prince of Melfi. The Moorish slave was Don John of Austria, the son of
the Emperor, the conqueror of Granada, the hero of Lepanto. The new
Governor-general had traversed Spain and France in disguise with great
celerity, and in the romantic manner which belonged to his character.
He stood at last on the threshold of the Netherlands, but with all his
speed he had arrived a few days too late.