An important event was about to occur in Antwerp. The Reformers were
triumphant. They had taken possession of three churches, and in each,
one of their principal preachers was to deliver an address, and offer up
prayer and praise. The magistrates were greatly alarmed, believing that
such a proceeding would draw down on the city the vengeance of the
Regent. In their alarm, the Pensionary, Vesembeck, was sent to entreat
the ministers to postpone their exercises. One of them, Taffen, a
famous Walloon preacher, agreed to do so; but the others were not so
easily persuaded to abandon what they believed to be the right course.
Herman Modet especially was very firm. He had come into the city on
purpose to preach in the cathedral, and he naturally longed for the
opportunity of making known the simple Gospel of salvation, where for so
many ages false teaching had alone been heard. Aveline had been very
anxious to listen to a Flemish sermon from a Protestant minister; and I
had promised, should Sir Thomas not object, to accompany her. On the
evening before the proposed sermons were to be delivered, a stranger
presented himself at the house, desiring to see Sir Thomas. He sent up
his name to the room where we were seated at supper.
"Master Overton; he has come from Switzerland," said my patron. "Do I
remember that name?"
"Yes, sir," I remarked; "it is the name of the priest who, abandoning
the Romish faith, came over with us from Ipswich."
"Go and see, Ernst," said Sir Thomas. "If you are right, I shall be
truly glad to receive him."
On going to the hall, I was glad to see my old acquaintance; and I
should have known him immediately, though his countenance wore a far
more happy expression than formerly, and he had altogether lost the
sallow complexion of a priest of Rome. I gladly ushered him into the
sitting-room, where he was cordially welcomed by Sir Thomas, and
introduced to Madam Clough and the rest of the party. He had been
ministering, he told us, in Switzerland for some time past to a small
congregation; but at length, being anxious to revisit England, and there
assist in spreading the truth among his countrymen, he had resigned his
post. Aveline had so grown since he last had seen her, that he
naturally did not recognise her. She now timidly approached him.
"You are my uncle," she said, taking his hand; "indeed, I know of no
other relative I possess on earth."
I need scarcely describe the satisfaction with which Master Overton
greeted his niece.
I had never met a man whose whole heart was more given to the desire of
advancing the cause of his Saviour than was Master Overton. Scarcely
even did John Foxe surpass him. I have said little of that good
minister. He had now obtained, we heard, a church in Wiltshire; and
frequently Master Gresham used to send him money wherewith he might help
his poorer neighbours. When Master Overton heard of the proposed
preaching, he seconded Aveline's wish to be allowed to go and hear it.
"I will accompany her myself," he said.
Sir Thomas no longer objected; and it was arranged that we should set
out the following morning, in time to secure a place near the preacher
in the cathedral. Although Margery could not understand what was said,
she also begged leave to accompany her mistress. We thus formed a
considerable party when we entered the cathedral. We found Herman Modet
ready to ascend the pulpit, round which were piled up the various
articles which had been broken off the images. Already a considerable
number of people had collected within the building, and soon after we
entered, vast numbers kept pouring in, till the whole edifice was
crowded. Just then a body of magistrates appeared in their official
garments, headed by Vesembeck, who again appealed to the preacher to
abandon his intentions. Earnestly as he pleaded, warning the minister
of the danger which might occur, he did so without effect. All Herman
Modet would agree to was to shorten his address, and, supported by the
people, he refused to agree to any other arrangement.
At length, completely discomfited, those of the magistrates who were
Roman Catholics withdrew, while the remainder stopped to listen to the
preacher. Ascending the pulpit, in a sonorous voice he gave forth a
psalm, the words and air of which were well-known to the vast assemblage
below. Hitherto a low murmur had alone been heard throughout the
building. But now, many thousand voices swelled up together to the
praise of Him who came on earth to die for man--the just for the unjust,
that all, by trusting in Him, might have everlasting life. I have not
space to give all the sermon, though I made notes of it at the time. It
was eloquent, fervent, and convincing. I cannot fancy that any
right-minded Romanists, inquiring for the truth, could have heard it and
yet not have yielded to its arguments. I should rather say, that it is
surprising that they could resist them. Yet there were, I know, many
Romanists there who, though perhaps moved at the moment, went away
retaining their former opinions.
Herman Modet, though he had consented to preach for a short time,
carried away by his feelings, continued to pour forth his words of fire
hour after hour, no one wearying even by the length of his discourse.
Once again there rose a hymn of praise such as had never before been
heard within those walls--not to Mary, not to any of the saints, but to
the Lamb without spot or blemish, slain for the sins of the whole world,
that all who believe on Him might not perish, but have everlasting life.
No thoughts can be more pure and simple and holy, more full of Gospel
truth than are those found in the hymns of Marot. Although we had been
standing so long, we yet left the cathedral with regret. Several of our
party could only comprehend a very small portion of what they had heard.
Margery, indeed, did not understand a word, and yet there was that
power in the speaker's manner alone which riveted her attention, while
sometimes A'Dale, and sometimes I, explained to her the substance of the
discourse.
Madam Clough, when we returned home, could scarcely believe that we had
been so long a time at the cathedral, or that we could have been as
interested as we professed with the discourse we had heard.
I must now give a short account of the numerous public events of deep
interest which occurred after this.
I have said that Master Overton proposed returning to England; but when
his presence in Antwerp was known, several Protestant Englishmen, as
well as Reformers of other nations in the place, earnestly requested him
to remain and minister to them. Sir Thomas Gresham also urging him to
do so, he consented to take the charge of a Reformed Church at Antwerp
till another should be found to supply his place. This was a great
advantage to Aveline especially, as she thus had a relative to whom she
could go for advice and instruction, which certainly her friend Madam
Clough was unable to afford.
Similar scenes to those I have described in Antwerp took place in
numerous towns throughout the Netherlands. In Flanders alone, four
hundred churches were sacked, in Mechlin, in Tournay--a city
distinguished for its ecclesiastical splendour--in Ghent, and in
Valenciennes. In not one of them, however, was a single human being
injured.
On the return of the Prince of Orange, he expressed his regret at what
had occurred. At the same time, he did not appear disposed to treat the
image-breakers with much severity. The Regent Margaret, however, on
hearing of the disturbances, was seized with the greatest alarm. When
the news reached Philip, he swore a deep oath that they should bitterly
pay for what they had done. Owing to the representations of the Prince
of Orange, in the meantime liberty of worship was granted in places
where it had already been established; and it seemed at first as if the
Reformers were about to obtain all they required. Bands of insurgents
appeared in various places. In the city of Valenciennes the Reformers
had completely gained the upper hand. But the city was declared by the
Regent in a state of siege; and a body of troops under the fierce Papist
Noircarmes was sent to invest it. Sad news shortly afterwards reached
us, that most of the Protestant bands had been cut to pieces by
Noircarmes and his troops.
The Prince of Orange was governing Antwerp, with the brave young noble,
Hoogstraaten, under him, while Brederode was also in the city secretly
raising troops for the defence of the liberal cause. On two occasions I
attended Sir Thomas Gresham, when invited by the Prince of Orange to
dine with him. The Prince received my patron with great courtesy at a
magnificent banquet. From the conversation of the Prince, it was very
clear that he was anxious to ascertain from Sir Thomas Gresham the
disposition entertained by Queen Elizabeth and her ministers towards the
revolutionary party.
"Do you think," he said, "that she will aid our noblemen and other
chiefs, as she did those in France, for the sake of their religion?"
Sir Thomas, in reply, asked whether the noblemen to whom the Prince
alluded had demanded any help of her Majesty. He said that he could not
tell. Then said Sir Thomas, "I am myself no judge, nor can I interfere
in a matter of so much importance."
Soon after this, Sir Thomas again returned to England. It was now that
some of the leading Protestants in Antwerp memorialised Sir Thomas
Gresham, explaining that the outbreaks which had lately occurred in the
city were greatly contrary to their wishes, and entreating him that he
would petition the Queen Elizabeth in their behalf, and that the ruin
with which the Low Countries were threatened might be averted. They
begged that she would address King Philip, in order that he might be
brought to accede to their reasonable request: that they might be
allowed liberty to worship God without molestation, asserting that they
were perfectly ready to "render to Caesar the things which are
Caesar's," should they be allowed to "render unto God the things which
are God's."
I mentioned just now that Brederode was raising men in Antwerp. With
him was associated the brave and gallant young nobleman, Marnix of
Tholouse. He had left college in order that he might draw his sword in
the cause of religious liberty.
The Prince of Orange at length thought it necessary to prohibit
Brederode's enlistments. He and his followers accordingly left the
city, and embarked on board several ships which they had seized. More
men having joined them, Brederode took his departure for Holland, where
he hoped to raise more troops. In the meantime Marnix of Tholouse, with
his newly collected force, sailing up the Scheld, landed and attacked
the little village called Ostrawell, about a mile from Antwerp. Here he
posted himself with considerable judgment. In his rear he had the
Scheld and its dikes, on his right and left the dikes and the village.
In front he threw up a breastwork and sunk a trench. On this spot might
truly be said to have been first hoisted the standard of liberty.
A'Dale and I paid a visit to the camp. Daily numbers of men flocked to
his standard, till he had collected fully 3,000 round him. If the
bravery of one man could have supported a great cause, the gallant young
student might have succeeded. His followers, however, had no
discipline, and consequently no dependence on each other. Brederode had
promised to join him shortly with a body of troops; and it was hoped
that he would himself infuse his own spirit into his men, and bring them
under discipline.
As the ground was perfectly level between the city and his camp, we were
able from the ramparts to see all that was taking place within it.
Although the Prince of Orange would not give his open support to the
patriot band, yet he did not feel himself called upon to interfere with
them; indeed, he had been fortunately furnished with no troops with
which he could have done so. Affairs in the city therefore went on
quietly.
One morning, however, at early dawn the sound of firing from the
direction of Ostrawell called a vast number of the people of Antwerp to
that side of the ramparts. It soon became evident that Tholouse had
been suddenly attacked, and that a fierce battle was raging. No one
could tell by whom he was assailed. In a short time the roofs of the
houses, the towers of the churches, and the higher parts of the walls,
were covered with eager spectators. We were among them. We could hear
the sound of drums and trumpets, and the sharp rattle of musketry. Then
came the shouts of victory, the despairing cries of the vanquished. The
glitter of the helmets and spears, the bucklers and corslets of the
assailing party we could clearly see, while their standards--they were
those of Spain--showed their exact position. The young Count had
greatly won our admiration, on account of his youth, his gallant
bearing, his talents, and his bravery. He had become a staunch
Protestant, and for that cause was ready to lay down his life. A short
time before, he had married a very charming young lady, who shared his
enthusiastic desire to establish the liberty of their country. She was
now in the city, and we could not help thinking what must be her
feelings on finding that the camp had been attacked. We could see the
enemy approach the breastwork in front of the camp. Alas! it was
defended but for a short time: on came the assailants; now they entered
the fort. Onward they pressed, some shooting rapidly, while the swords
of others were kept in constant exercise.
"What say you, Ernst; shall we go forth to their support?" exclaimed
A'Dale. "We shall find hundreds of brave fellows ready to accompany us;
and I for one cannot stand here and see our friends butchered by their
tyrants. See! see! the enemy are advancing; there is no time to lose,
if we are to give them any real help!"
I was as willing as my friend on most occasions to rush into danger; but
it seemed to me that already the enemy had gained the day, and that our
assistance would come too late. They pressed on till we could see
hundreds of the patriots driven into the Scheld. On one side was a
farmhouse; round it for some time the battle raged furiously. Then the
flames were seen to burst forth. Again the assailants advanced. Small
bodies of the patriots who had escaped from the fight were rushing
towards the town. Soon the excitement became uncontrollable. It was
not surprising that the Calvinists within the city should have felt for
their brothers who were thus being destroyed. For a short time, from
every street and alley in the city, people were seen coming forth armed
with lance, pike, and arquebus; some bearing huge two-handed swords,
which had belonged to their fathers, others, battle-axes, and some
carried huge sledge-hammers over their shoulders. All were determined
to issue forth, in the hope of rescuing their friends ere the whole of
them were destroyed. Meantime the young bride of Tholouse was seen
flying from street to street, calling on the Calvinists to save their
brethren on the point of destruction. Fully 10,000 men were up in arms;
but the gates had been closed by order of the Prince of Orange, and they
found it impossible to force their way out. The whole city was in a
state of commotion. The Lutherans as well as the Calvinists had flown
to arms. Some of the fiercest proposed to avenge the death of the
patriots by the slaughter of the Roman Catholics. The latter also, in
consequence, in their own defence, had taken up arms. A most sanguinary
outbreak was, therefore, every moment expected.
Had it begun, no one could say when it would end, or the number of lives
which would be sacrificed. While the dreadful scenes I have described
were going on, we hurried down from the walls to the open place near the
Red Gate, still hoping that there might be some time to render
assistance to the defeated patriots. At this moment the Prince, without
any guards or attendants, rode in among the crowd collected there.
Instead of the usual signs of respect with which he was greeted, he was
now received with howls of execration. A thousand hoarse voices called
him the Pope's servant, the minister of antichrist, a traitor to his
country. Some even proposed to cut him down on the spot. An arquebus
was pointed at him, but, ere it was discharged, a hand from the crowd
struck it away. Even before this the postern of the Red Gate had been
forced open, and a number of the Calvinists were issuing forth.
The Prince sat calmly on his horse; then, lifting up his hand, he
addressed the multitude. As he spoke, every voice was hushed. He told
them that he came for their good, that the battle was over, that their
friends had been cut to pieces, and that the victorious enemy were
retiring; while, brave as those who heard him might be, should they go
forth, they would be unable to retrieve the fortunes of the day. He
pointed out to them that they were ill-armed and without discipline, and
that the same force which had captured the camp at Ostrawell might with
equal ease destroy them.
The remarks of the Prince seemed so just, that I persuaded A'Dale to
give up his design of marching out to the relief of the remnants of the
patriot force. Some hundreds, however, still insisted on going forth.
Again and again the Prince and the Count Hoogstraaten, who had a short
time before arrived on the spot, entreated them to abandon their design,
warning them that their blood would be upon their own heads should they
persevere.
Five hundred marched forth. The enemy were seen scattered about the
country pursuing the fugitives. On the appearance of the city force,
they were quickly again summoned together by the sound of the trumpet;
and now, in a compact mass, they advanced towards the city, with drums
beating and colours flying. Just before this a rapid firing was heard
in the rear of the enemy. We at the time little knew what it was.
Alas! the savages were shooting their prisoners, three hundred of whom
they had captured, intending to ransom them. When, however, they found
they had again to enter into a fresh battle, they shot the whole of the
unfortunate men. Thus, in reality, this unadvised sally of the citizens
was the cause of the death of a large number of their countrymen. The
citizens, finding themselves outnumbered, and not relishing the firm
bearing of the Spaniards, retreated rapidly into the city, the gates
being shut only just in time to prevent the entrance of the Romanist
force. The enemy, then advancing close to the city walls, planted the
banners of the unfortunate Tholouse on the margin of the moat, sounding
at the same time a trumpet of defiance. The Prince and his lieutenant
exerted themselves to prevent another sally, well knowing the thoroughly
trained force the citizens would have to encounter. In the opinion of
the Prince the time for fighting had not yet arrived.
During the period I have been describing, the whole city continued in a
state of the fiercest commotion. The Calvinists in vast numbers had
taken possession of the Mere; it was here the market was held: it is a
long wide place, too wide almost to be called a street, with fine
buildings on either side--the streets which enter it communicating with
the Exchange and many other public edifices. This place had been
barricaded with paving stones, upturned waggons, and other articles
which came to hand. A large body of the people had forced their way
into the Arsenal, and obtained a supply of ammunition and several
field-pieces; these they planted at the entrance of every street and
passage. Another party stormed the city jail, and liberated the
prisoners with whom they were crowded. These eagerly took up arms, and
assembled in the Mere for its defence.
A'Dale and I, standing well with the Calvinists, were able to go in
among them; but what we heard gave us great cause for anxiety. A large
number were sincere and devoted men, excited at that moment to the
highest pitch of religious enthusiasm. There were, however, no small
number of ruffians, eager to commit any crime which came in their way.
Some proposed pillaging the churches and the houses of the Romanists,
the images only having before been destroyed.
"Let us collect all the wealth which has been so long hoarded up by
these wretched drones!" cried out some; others proposed even sacking the
whole of the city, and setting up a Republic of their own.
The report of these proposals spread rapidly through the city: nothing
could exceed the terror and alarm of the rest of the inhabitants. It
was fearful to hear the cries of the women and children, who every
moment expected that the place would be given over to rapine and
bloodshed.
Night was approaching: it was impossible to say what would take place
during the coming darkness. Meantime the Prince summoned the Board of
Ancients, the Deans of Guilds, and the Ward Masters, to consult with him
at the Council Room: he had also caused eight companies of Guards, which
had previously been enrolled, to be mustered on the square in front of
the City Hall for its protection. It was rapidly arranged, at his
suggestion, that terms should be offered to the insurgents; but who was
to carry the message?
"I myself will go forth," he said; and listening to no remonstrances, he
threw himself on his horse, and rode down to the Mere. He was allowed
to pass by the guns, till he was once more in the centre of the fierce
mob. He told them that they must appoint eight deputies to treat with
him and the magistrates at the Town Hall. The deputies were soon
chosen, and accompanied him back. Six articles were drawn up, providing
that the keys of the city should remain in his possession; that the
watch should be held by burghers and soldiers together; that the
magistrates should permit the entrance of no garrison; and that the
citizens should be entrusted with the care of their own charters. The
deputies and the City Government at once gave their cordial assent to
these articles. When the deputies returned, their constituents were not
very well pleased with what had been done, declaring that they would not
submit to be locked up at the mercy of any man, nor would they trust to
mercenary troops for guarding their city. The Prince, hearing this,
agreed that the burghers, Calvinists, Lutherans, as well as Romanists,
should be employed to guard the city.
These arrangements were not made till dark. A'Dale and I returned home.
I may say that not one of the household could be persuaded to go to
bed. Master Clough's anxiety was very great, especially on account of
his wife. A'Dale and I, therefore, willingly undertook to go forth
again and learn the news. As we approached the Mere, where an army of
not less than 15,000 Calvinists still remained encamped, with guns
loaded, and artillery pointed, we heard cries, "Long live the Beggars!"
"Down with the Papists!" and similar shouts. We waited for some time:
again and again they were repeated, till we felt convinced that they
were about to march forth, and carry out the threats they had previously
uttered. Thus the night passed away.
We were not the only people who kept awake. Few, I believe, slept; but
there was one who, with his associates, laboured hard the whole time--
that was the Prince of Orange, so we afterwards heard. He was employing
every means he could devise to save the city. He had interviews with
the leaders of various parties; among others, he saw the ministers and
notable members of the Lutheran Churches, and induced them to persuade
their congregations to take up arms for the preservation of order. He
also engaged the assistance of the chiefs of the various foreign
mercantile associations--the English, Italian, Portuguese, and others--
and ordered us to remain under arms at our respective factories, ready
to act at a moment's warning. The Romanists also were assembled, and
urged to unite with all those who wished to support order. As may be
supposed, they were eager enough to do so, as certainly they would be
the first to fall, should an outbreak take place.
There were thus three parties in the city--the Calvinists, the
Lutherans, and the Romanists. In the two latter were generally found
the richest people of the community, though they were the least
numerous. They, therefore, would have suffered the most, had a battle
been fought in the city. Nothing could have been more horrible than
such an event--desolation and destruction would have been brought into
every house. Yet, strange as it may seem, all parties were willing and
eager to fight. Fresh articles were drawn up, and approved by those who
represented the Lutheran and Romanist parties. The Prince resolved
early in the morning to present them to the Calvinists; attended by
Hoogstraaten and a committee of the municipal authorities, with a guard
of a hundred troopers, he once more rode towards the Mere. It had been
arranged that all who were anxious to preserve order were to wear a red
scarf over their armour. Thus distinguished, he and his party
approached the camp. The Calvinists appeared fierce and threatening as
ever; but, notwithstanding, he was once more allowed to ride into the
middle of the square. It was a moment of the greatest anxiety. One of
the magistrates with a loud voice read the articles by the command of
the Prince. For some time it seemed doubtful whether they would be
accepted. But he in a few words expressed their meaning.
"And now, my friends," he said, "let me entreat you, by the love you
bear your wives and children, by the love you bear your faith, by your
duty to your country and to your Maker, to agree to these terms. If you
do so, repeat the words with which I will conclude my address."
There was a pause. Then he cried with a loud voice, "God save the
King!"
Again there was a pause. The Calvinists were swayed by conflicting
emotions, but the calmness and gentleness of the Prince overcame all
other considerations.
"_Vive le Roi_!" they shouted; and the cry was taken up throughout their
ranks.
"I thank Heaven that it is so!" he again cried, when silence was once
more procured. "Now let me entreat you quietly to return to your homes,
and show that you bear your fellow-citizens no ill-will for what has
occurred."
In a short time, those in charge of the artillery restored them to the
Arsenal, where all arms which had been taken were replaced. And now the
citizens of all classes were seen addressing each other in friendly
terms--the Calvinists, Lutherans, and even Romanists. The passions of
some fifty thousand armed men were appeased. The lives of numbers were
preserved, and the beautiful city of Antwerp was saved, by the wisdom
and courage of William of Orange.