I was so deeply interested in the public events I have described, that I
found little space in my journal for an account of my own proceedings.
In truth, while at Antwerp, I was engaged the greater part of the day in
my official duties, and have therefore little to tell about myself.
Although order was restored in Antwerp, the city was full of mourning,
especially among the lower classes, so many had lost relatives in the
late fight. The person for whom I could not help feeling the most
compassion was the young widow of the brave Tholouse. For some days she
would not believe that he was among the slain, until one of the men who,
though desperately wounded, had escaped death, was brought before her.
He described how the young captain, though surrounded by foes, fought to
the last, till he was struck down and cut to pieces. After the enemy
had retired, we went out to the scene of the conflict. I had never
witnessed so sad and horrible a sight. The ground in the camp was
strewn with dead bodies. There was one pile of slain larger than the
rest. Within it was found the hilt of the broken sword of the young
hero, his helmet cleft in twain, and a corpse, covered with a hundred
wounds, which those who knew him best declared was his. This seemed but
a disastrous commencement of an attempt to establish liberty. Many
abandoned all hope of their country's freedom. But bolder spirits hoped
against hope; among them, even at that time, was William of Orange, or
the Silent William, as he was called. He could speak, however, as I
have already described. He gained the name, not so much because he was
silent, as far as words were concerned, but because he kept his more
important and deeper thoughts hidden in his own bosom.
It became known at this time that the Duke of Alva, the most celebrated
general of his day, was marching with a Spanish army towards the
Netherlands; and by the middle of August he reached Thionville, on the
Luxembourg frontier.
Count Egmont and several other nobles rode forth to meet the Duke.
Though at first Alva treated Egmont somewhat coldly, in a short time he
appeared to be on the most friendly terms with him, and the two were
seen riding side by side at the head of the forces. Of course the
Duchess Margaret was very indignant at the appearance of Alva, who had
come to supersede her. She at length consented to receive him without
any of his attendants. But when he appeared in the courtyard with his
body-guard, the archers of the Regent's household showed a disposition
to prevent their entrance, and a scene of bloodshed seemed on the point
of being enacted. At length he was allowed to pass, and the Duchess
received him standing in the centre of her reception-room with the most
chilling manner. Behind her stood the Count Egmont and other nobles.
Alva, however, must have known how completely they were all in his
power, and had thus less difficulty in suppressing his anger. It was
said that the Prince of Orange again and again warned Counts Egmont and
Horn, as well as several others, on no account to put themselves in the
power of Alva. He showed his opinion of the character of that person by
resigning all his offices, and retiring to his paternal estate of
Dillenburg.
Alva having superseded the Regent, the country soon felt the effects of
his presence. He forthwith distributed his well-trained troops through
Brussels, Ghent, Antwerp, and other chief cities, and ordered the
municipalities to transfer their keys to his keeping. A deep gloom
settled down over the whole land. The day of vengeance with which they
had long been threatened was now to overtake them. The people
everywhere were oppressed with a feeling of hopeless dismay. They knew
that they had no power to resist the force which had arrived to keep
them down. Those who had a possibility of escaping made their way out
of the ill-fated land across the frontier. Foreign merchants deserted
the great marts, and the cities had the appearance of being stricken by
the plague.
The Duke of Alva established a new court, for the trial of crimes
committed during the recent period of troubles. It was called the
Council of Troubles, but it soon acquired the terrible name of the Blood
Council. It superseded all other institutions. All other courts were
forbidden to give judgment on any case growing out of the late
disturbances.
A reign of terror commenced, which exceeded anything that had before
taken place. The Blood Council made rapid work wherever they went. In
one day eighty-four of the inhabitants of Valenciennes were put to
death; on another, forty-six persons in Malines. Ninety-five people
collected from various towns were burned or strangled together at one
place. But I sicken as I write of the horrible cruelties practised by
Alva. He had come for the express purpose of destroying all the leaders
of the popular movement. In spite of their high rank and the service
they had rendered their King, they were condemned to death. Egmont had
proved himself too faithful in carrying out the wishes of Philip, by the
cruelties he exercised at Valenciennes and elsewhere, to deserve much
pity.
It was at this juncture that William of Orange came forward. He
published a manifesto, clearing himself of all the accusations brought
against him, and declaring that he was about to make war, not against
the King, but against those who had usurped his power and authority in
the country. He immediately set to work to raise funds and troops. He
sold all his jewels, plate, tapestry, and every other possession of
value. Other nobles subscribed large sums. Count John of Nassau
pledged his estates to raise funds for the cause.
The plan of the campaign was drawn out. The provinces were to be
attacked simultaneously in three places. An army of Huguenots was to
enter Artois on the frontier of France. A second, under Hoogstraaten,
was to operate between the Rhine and the Meuse; while Louis of Nassau
was to raise the standard of revolt in Freesland. A fourth force, under
the Seigneur de Cocqueville, consisting of 2,500 men, also entered
Artois. He was immediately attacked, and almost cut to pieces. All the
Netherlanders who were taken prisoners were given up to the Spaniards,
and, of course, hanged. A similar fate befel the force of Count
Hoogstraaten. Louis of Nassau, however, was more successful.
His was the first victory gained by the patriot forces. It was seldom,
that, ill-equipped and ill-disciplined, they were able to compete
successfully with the well-trained troops of Spain. As yet, unhappily,
there seemed but little prospect of the cause of liberty being
triumphant. It was not man's arm which was to win the day. It was said
that Alva's rage was almost uncontrollable when he heard of the defeat
of his troops. In revenge, he immediately put to death eighteen
prisoners of distinction, including the two Barons Batenburg, Maximilian
Kock, Blois de Treslong, and others, who were executed in Brussels.
Soon afterwards, the pretended trial of Egmont and Horn being concluded,
those nobles were also executed in the same place. The events connected
with their death are too well-known to require repetition. Though they
did not die on account of their religion, for they were both staunch
Romanists, yet their execution contributed greatly to forward the cause
of the Protestants, as many other persons who might have remained true
to Philip were induced to side with the patriots, lest they should be
treated in a similar manner.
Nothing could be more deplorable than the condition of the Netherlands
at this time. Every family was mourning for some of its dearest
relatives. The death-bell tolled hourly in every village, while the
survivors almost apathetically awaited the time when they themselves
might be called to suffer in the same way.
Columns and stakes were to be seen in every street. The door-posts of
private houses, even the fences in the fields, and the trees in
orchards, were laden with human carcases, strangled, burnt, or beheaded.
New scaffolds, gallows, and stakes were erected everywhere, ready for
those devoted to destruction. All those who could escape had fled; and
had it not been for the strict way in which the gates were guarded,
nearly every town in the Netherlands would have been depopulated. In
Antwerp, as well as in other great manufacturing and mercantile towns,
once so full of industrial life, silence and despair now reigned. Poor
Antwerp! it was my native city. I had known it for the greater part of
my life. I had seen it once at the height of prosperity. Its commerce
and industry were now well-nigh destroyed.