Margaret laid the document before her council, and on the sixteenth of February, 1567, an answer which might be rather said to be addressed to the country at large than to Brederode, was published. The duchess intimated her surprise that any mention should be made of the league, as she had supposed that body had ceased to exist, since so many of its members had been but too glad, after the late outrages, to make their peace with the government. As to her concession of public preaching, it could hardly be contended that that was designed to authorize the sectaries to lay taxes, levy troops, create magistrates, and to perform, among other religious rites, that of marriage, involving the transfer of large amounts of property. She could hardly be thought mad enough to invest them with powers like these. She admonished the petitioners not to compel their sovereign to forego his native benignity of disposition. It would be well for them, she hinted, to give less heed to public affairs, and more to their own; and she concluded with the assurance, that she would take good care that the ruin which they so confidently predicted for the country should not be brought about by them.[875]

The haughty tone of the reply showed too plainly that the times were changed; that Margaret was now conscious of her strength, and meant to use it. The confederates felt that the hour had come for action. To retrace their steps was impossible. Yet their present position was full of peril. The rumor went that King Philip was soon to come, at the head of a powerful force, to take vengeance on his enemies. To remain as they were, without resistance, would be to offer their necks to the stroke of the executioner. An appeal to arms was all that was left to them. This was accordingly resolved on. The standard of revolt was raised. The drum beat to arms in the towns and villages, and recruits were everywhere enlisted. Count Louis was busy in enforcing levies in Germany. Brederode's town of Viana was named as the place of rendezvous. That chief was now in his element. His restless spirit delighted in scenes of tumult. He had busied himself in strengthening the works of Viana, and in furnishing it with artillery and military stores. Thence he had secretly passed over to Amsterdam, where he was occupied in organizing resistance among the people, already, by their fondness for the new doctrines, well disposed to it.

Hostilities first broke out in Brabant, where Count Megen was foiled in an attempt on Bois-le-Duc, which had refused to receive a garrison. He was more fortunate in an expedition against the refractory city of Utrecht, which surrendered without a struggle to the royalist chief.

In other quarters the insurgents were not idle. A body of some two thousand men, under Marnix, lord of Thoulouse, brother of the famous St. Aldegonde, made a descent on the island of Walcheren, where it was supposed Philip would land. But they were baffled in their attempts on this place by the loyalty and valor of the inhabitants. Failing in this scheme, Thoulouse was compelled to sail up the Scheldt, until he reached the little village of Austruweel, about a league from Antwerp. There he disembarked his whole force, and took up his quarters in the dwellings of the inhabitants. From this place he sallied out, making depredations on the adjoining country, burning the churches, sacking the convents, and causing great alarm to the magistrates of Antwerp by the confidence which his presence gave to the reformed party in that city.{294}

Margaret saw the necessity of dislodging the enemy without delay from this dangerous position. She despatched a body of Walloons on the service, under command of an experienced officer named Launoy. Her orders show the mood she was in. "They are miscreants," she said, "who have placed themselves beyond the pale of mercy. Show them no mercy then, but exterminate with fire and sword!"[876] Launoy, by a rapid march, arrived at Austruweel. Though taken unawares, Thoulouse and his men made a gallant resistance; and a fierce action took place almost under the walls of Antwerp.

The noise of the musketry soon brought the citizens to the ramparts; and the dismay of the Calvinists was great, as they beheld the little army of Thoulouse thus closely beset by their enemies. Furious at the spectacle, they now called on one another to rush to the rescue of their friends. Pouring down from the ramparts, they hurried to the gates of the city. But the gates were locked. This had been done by the order of the prince of Orange, who had moreover caused a bridge across the Scheldt to be broken down to cut off all communication between the city and the camp of Thoulouse.

The people now loudly called on the authorities to deliver up the keys, demanding for what purpose the gates were closed. Their passions were kindled to madness by the sight of the wife—now, alas! the widow—of Thoulouse, who, with streaming eyes and dishevelled hair, rushing wildly into the crowd, besought them piteously to save her husband and their own brethren from massacre.

It was too late. After a short though stout resistance, the insurgents had been driven from the field, and taken refuge in their defences. These were soon set on fire. Thoulouse, with many of his followers, perished in the flames. Others, to avoid this dreadful fate, cut their way through the enemy, and plunged into the Scheldt, which washes the base of the high land occupied by the village. There they miserably perished in the waters, or were pierced by the lances of the enemy, who hovered on its borders. Fifteen hundred were slain. Three hundred, who survived, surrendered themselves prisoners. But Launoy feared an attempt at rescue from the neighboring city; and, true to the orders of the regent, he massacred nearly all of them on the spot![877]

While this dismal tragedy was passing, the mob imprisoned within the walls of Antwerp was raging and bellowing like the waves of the ocean chafing wildly against the rocks that confine them. With fierce cries, they demanded that the gates should be opened, calling on the magistrates with bitter imprecations to deliver up the keys. The magistrates had no mind to face the infuriated populace. But the prince of Orange fortunately, at this crisis, did not hesitate to throw himself into the midst of the tumult, and take on himself the whole responsibility of the affair. It was by his command that the gates had been closed, in order that the regent's troops, if victorious, might not enter the city, and massacre those of the reformed religion. This plausible explanation did not satisfy the people. Some called out that the true motive was, not to save the Calvinists in the city, but to prevent their assisting their brethren in the camp. One man, more audacious{295} than the rest, raised a musket to the prince's breast, saluting him, at the same time, with the epithet of "traitor!" But the fellow received no support from his companions, who, in general, entertained too great respect for William to offer any violence to his person.

Unable to appease the tumult, the prince was borne along by the tide, which now rolled back from the gates to the Meer Bridge, where it soon received such accessions that the number amounted to more than ten thousand. The wildest schemes were then agitated by the populace, among whom no one appeared to take the lead. Some were for seizing the Hôtel de Ville, and turning out the magistrates. Others were for sacking the convents, and driving their inmates, as well as all priests, from the city. Meanwhile, they had got possession of some pieces of artillery from the arsenal, with which they fortified the bridge. Thus passed the long night;—the armed multitude gathered together like a dark cloud, ready at any moment to burst in fury on the city, while the defenceless burghers, especially those who had any property at stake, were filled with the most dismal apprehensions.

Yet the Catholics contrived to convey some casks of powder, it is said, under the Meer Bridge, resolving to blow it into the air with all upon it, as soon as their enemies should make a hostile movement.

All eyes were now turned on the prince of Orange as the only man at all capable of extricating them from their perilous situation. William had stationed a guard over the mint, and another at the Hôtel de Ville, to protect these buildings from the populace. A great part of this anxious night he spent in endeavoring to bring about such an understanding between the two great parties of the Catholics and the Lutherans as should enable them to act in concert. This was the less difficult, on account of the jealousy which the latter sect entertained of the Calvinists. The force thus raised was swelled by the accession of the principal merchants and men of substance, as well as most of the foreigners resident in the city, who had less concern for spiritual matters than for the security of life and fortune. The following morning beheld the mob of Calvinists formed into something like a military array, their green and white banners bravely unfurled, and the cannon which they had taken from the arsenal posted in front. On the opposite side of the great square before the Hôtel de Ville were gathered the forces of the prince of Orange, which, if wanting artillery, were considerably superior in numbers to their adversaries. The two hosts now stood face to face, as if waiting only the signal to join in mortal conflict. But no man was found bold enough to give the signal—for brother to lift his hand against brother.

At this juncture William, with a small guard, and accompanied by the principal magistrates, crossed over to the enemy's ranks, and demanded an interview with the leaders. He represented to them the madness of their present course; which, even if they were victorious, must work infinite mischief to the cause. It would be easy for them to obtain by fair means all they could propose by violence; and for his own part, he concluded, however well disposed to them he now might be, if a single drop of blood were shed in this quarrel, he would hold them from that hour as enemies.

The remonstrance of the prince, aided by the conviction of their own inferiority in numbers, prevailed over the stubborn temper of the Calvinists. They agreed to an accommodation, one of the articles of which was, that no garrison should be admitted within the city. The prince of Orange subscribed and swore to the treaty, on behalf of his party: and it is proof of the confidence that even the Calvinists reposed in him, that they laid down their arms sooner than either the Lutherans or the Catholics. Both these, however, speedily followed their example. The martial array, which had assumed so menacing an aspect, soon melted away. The soldier of an hour, subsiding into the quiet burgher, went about his usual business; and tranquillity{296} and order once more reigned within the walls of Antwerp.—Thus, by the coolness and discretion of a single man, the finest city in the Netherlands was saved from irretrievable ruin.[878]

It was about the middle of March, 1567, that the disturbances occurred at Antwerp. During this time Noircarmes was enforcing the blockade of Valenciennes, but with little prospect of bringing it to a speedy issue. The inhabitants, confident in their strength, had made more than one successful sally, burning the cloisters in which the general had lodged part of his troops, and carrying back considerable booty into the city. It was evident that to reduce the place by blockade would be a work of no little time.

Margaret wrote to her brother to obtain his permission to resort to more vigorous measures, and, without further delay, to bombard the place. But Philip peremptorily refused. It was much to his regret, he said, that the siege of so fair a city had been undertaken. Since it had been, nothing remained but to trust to a blockade for its reduction.[879]

At this time an army of the confederates, some three or four thousand strong, appeared in the neighborhood of Tournay, designed partly to protect that town, which had refused a garrison, and partly to create a diversion in favor of Valenciennes. No sooner had Noircarmes got tidings of this, than, leaving a sufficient detachment to carry on the blockade, he made a rapid march with the rest of his forces, came suddenly on the enemy, engaged him in a pitched battle, completely routed him, and drove his scattered legions up to the walls of Tournay. That city, now incapable of resistance, opened its gates at once, and submitted to the terms of the conqueror, who soon returned, with his victorious army, to resume the siege of Valenciennes.

But the confidence of the inhabitants was not shaken. On the contrary, under the delusive promises of their preacher, it seemed to rise higher than ever, and they rejected with scorn every invitation to surrender. Again the regent wrote to her brother, that, unless he allowed more active operations, there was great danger the place would be relieved by the Huguenots on the frontier, or by the Gueux, whose troops were scattered through the country.

Urged by the last consideration, Philip yielded a reluctant assent to his sister's wishes. But in his letter, dated on the thirteenth of March, he insisted that, before resorting to violence, persuasion and menace should be first tried; and that, in case of an assault, great care should be had that no harm came to the old and infirm, to women or children, to any, in short, who were not found actually in arms against the government.[880]—The clemency shown by Philip on this occasion reflects infinite credit on him; and if it be disposed of by some as mere policy, it must be allowed to be a policy near akin to humanity. It forms a striking contrast with the ferocious mood in which Margaret indulged at this time, when she seems to have felt that a long arrear of vengeance was due for the humiliations she had been compelled to endure.

The regent lost no time in profiting by the royal license. She first, however,{297} proposed, in obedience to her instructions, to see what could be done by milder measures. She sent two envoys, Count Egmont and the duke of Arschot, to Valenciennes, in order to expostulate with the citizens, and if possible bring them to reason. The two nobles represented to the people the folly of attempting to cope, thus single-handed, as it were, with the government. Their allies had been discomfited one after another. With the defeat before Tournay must have faded the last ray of hope. They besought the citizens to accept, while there was time, the grace proffered them by the duchess, who was willing, if the town submitted, that such as chose to leave it might take their effects and go wherever they listed.

But the people of Valenciennes, fortified by the promises of their leaders, and with a blind confidence in their own resources, which had hitherto proved effectual, held lightly both the arguments and offers of the envoys, who returned to the camp of Noircarmes greatly disgusted with the ill-success of their mission. There was no room for further delay, and preparations were made for reducing the place by more active operations.

Valenciennes stands on the crest of an eminence that sweeps down by a gradual slope towards the river Scheldt, which, washing the walls of the city, forms a good defence on that quarter. The ramparts encompassing the town, originally strong and of great thickness, were now somewhat impaired by age. They were protected by a wide ditch, which in some places was partially choked up with rubbish. The walls were well lined with artillery, and the magazines provided with ammunition. In short, the place was one which, in earlier days, from the strength of its works as well as its natural position, might have embarrassed an army more formidable than that which now lay before it.

The first step of Noircarmes was to contract his lines, and closely to invest the town. He next availed himself of a dark and stormy night to attack one of the suburbs, which he carried after a sharp engagement, and left in the charge of some companies of Walloons.

The following day these troops opened a brisk fire on the soldiers who defended the ramparts, which was returned by the latter with equal spirit. But while amusing the enemy in this quarter, Noircarmes ordered a battery to be constructed, consisting at first of ten, afterwards of twenty, heavy guns and mortars, besides some lighter pieces. From this battery he opened a well-directed and most disastrous fire on the city, demolishing some of the principal edifices, which, from their size, afforded a prominent mark. The great tower of St. Nicholas, on which some heavy ordnance was planted, soon crumbled, under this fierce cannonade, and its defenders were buried in its ruins. At length, at the end of four hours, the inhabitants, unable longer to endure the storm of shot and shells which penetrated every quarter of the town, so far humbled their pride as to request a parley. To this Noircarmes assented, but without intermitting his fire for a moment.

The deputies informed the general, that the city was willing to capitulate on the terms before proposed by the Flemish nobles. But Noircarmes contemptuously told them that "things were not now as they then were, and it was not his wont to talk of terms with a fallen enemy."[881] The deputies, greatly discomfited by the reply, returned to report the failure of their mission to their townsmen.

Meanwhile the iron tempest continued with pitiless fury. The wretched people could find no refuge from it in their dwellings, which filled the streets with their ruins. It was not, however, till two-and-thirty hours more had{298} passed away that a practicable breach was made in the walls; while the rubbish which had tumbled into the fosse from the crumbling ramparts afforded a tolerable passage for the besiegers, on a level nearly with the breach itself. By this passage Noircarmes now prepared to march into the city, through the open breach, at the head of his battalions.

The people of Valenciennes too late awoke from their delusion. They were no longer cheered by the voice of their fanatical leader, for he had provided for his own safety by flight; and, preferring any fate to that of being delivered over to the ruthless soldiery of Noircarmes, they offered at once to surrender the town at discretion, throwing themselves on the mercy of their victor. Six-and-thirty hours only had elapsed since the batteries of the besiegers had opened their fire, and during that time three thousand bombs had been thrown into the city;[882] which was thought scarcely less than a miracle in that day.

On the second of April, 1567, just four months after the commencement of the siege, the victorious army marched into Valenciennes. As it defiled through the long and narrow streets, which showed signs of the dismal fray in their shattered edifices, and in the dead and dying still stretched on the pavement, it was met by troops of women and young maidens bearing green branches in their hands, and deprecating with tears and piteous lamentations the wrath of the conquerors. Noircarmes marched at once to the town-house, where he speedily relieved the municipal functionaries of all responsibility, by turning them out of office. His next care was to seize the persons of the zealous ministers and the other leaders. Many had already contrived to make their escape. Most of these were soon after taken, the preacher La Grange among the rest, and to the number of thirty-six were sentenced either to the scaffold or the gallows.[883] The general then caused the citizens to be disarmed, and the fortifications, on which were mounted eighty pieces of artillery, to be dismantled. The town was deprived of its privileges and immunities, and a heavy fine imposed on the inhabitants to defray the charges of the war. The Protestant worship was abolished, the churches were restored to their former occupants, and none but the Roman Catholic service was allowed henceforth to be performed in the city. The bishop of Arras was invited to watch over the spiritual concerns of the inhabitants, and a strong garrison of eight battalions was quartered in the place, to secure order and maintain the authority of the cr own.[884]

The keys of Valenciennes, it was commonly said, opened to the regent the gates of all the refractory cities of the Netherlands. Maestricht, Tornhut, Ghent, Ypres, Oudenarde, and other places which had refused to admit a{299} garrison within their walls, now surrendered, one after another, to Margaret, and consented to receive her terms. In like manner Megen established the royal authority in the province of Gueldres, and Aremberg, after a more prolonged resistance, in Gröningen and Friesland. In a few weeks, with the exception of Antwerp and some places in Holland, the victorious arms of the regent had subdued the spirit of resistance in every part of the country.[885] The movement of the insurgents had been premature.

CHAPTER XIV.

The measure seems to have met with no opposition when first started in the council; where Mansfeldt, Arschot, Megen, Barlaimont, all signified their readiness to sign the oath. Egmont indeed raised some scruples. After the oath of allegiance he had once taken, a new one seemed superfluous. The bare word of a man of honor and a chevalier of the Toison ought to suffice.[886] But after a short correspondence on the subject, his scruples vanished before the arguments or persuasions of the regent.

Brederode, who held a military command, was not of so accommodating a temper. He indignantly exclaimed, that it was a base trick of the government, and he understood the drift of it. He refused to subscribe the oath, and at once threw up his commission. The Counts Hoorne and Hoogstraten declined also, but in more temperate terms, and resigning their employments, withdrew to their estates in the country.

The person of most importance was the prince of Orange; and it was necessary to approach him with the greatest caution. Margaret, it is true, had long since withdrawn from him her confidence. But he had too much consideration and authority in the country for her to wish to break with him.{300} Nor would she willingly give him cause of disgust. She accordingly addressed him a note, couched in the most insinuating terms she had at her command.

She could not doubt he would be ready to set a good example, when his example would be so important in the perplexed condition of the country. Rumors had been circulated to the prejudice of his loyalty. She did not give them credit. She could not for a moment believe that he would so far dishonor his great name and his illustrious descent as to deserve such a reproach; and she had no doubt he would gladly avail himself of the present occasion to wipe away all suspicion.[887]

The despatch inclosed a form of the oath, by which the party was to bind himself to "serve the king, and act for or against whomever his majesty might command, without restriction or limitation,"[888] on pain of being dismissed from office.

William was not long in replying to a requisition, to obey which would leave him less freedom than might be claimed by the meanest peasant in the country. On the twenty-eighth of April, the same day on which he received the letter, he wrote to the regent, declining in the most positive terms to take the oath. Such an act, he said, would of itself imply that he had already violated the oath he had previously taken. Nor could he honorably take it, since it might bind him to do what would be contrary to the dictates of his own conscience, as well as to what he conceived to be the true interests of his majesty and the country.[889] He was aware that such a demand on the regent's part was equivalent to a dismissal from office. He begged her, therefore, to send some one fully empowered to receive his commissions, since he was ready forthwith to surrender them. As for himself, he should withdraw from the Netherlands, and wait until his sovereign had time to become satisfied of his fidelity. But wherever he might be, he should ever be ready to devote both life and property to the service of the king and the common weal of the country.[890]

Whatever hesitation the prince of Orange may have before felt as to the course he was to take, it was clear the time had now come for decisive action. Though the steady advocate of political reform, his policy, as we have seen, had been to attempt this by constitutional methods, not by violence. But all his more moderate plans had been overthrown by the explosion of the iconoclasts. The outrages then perpetrated had both alienated the Catholics and disgusted the more moderate portion of the Protestants; while the divisions of the Protestants among themselves had so far paralyzed their action, that the whole strength of the party of reform had never been fairly exerted in the conflict. That conflict, unprepared as the nation was for it, had been most disastrous. Everywhere the arms of the regent had been victorious. It was evident the hour for resistance had not yet come.

Yet for William to remain in his present position was hazardous in the extreme. Rumors had gone abroad that the duke of Alva would soon be in the{301} Netherlands, at the head of a force sufficient to put down all opposition. "Beware of Alva," said his wife's kinsman, the landgrave of Hesse, to William; "I know him well."[891] The prince of Orange also knew him well,—too well to trust him. He knew the hard, inexorable nature of the man who was now coming with an army at his back, and clothed with the twofold authority of judge and executioner. The first blow would, he knew, be aimed at the highest mark. To await Alva's coming would be to provoke his fate. Yet the prince felt all the dreariness of his situation. "I am alone," he wrote to the Landgrave William of Hesse, "with dangers menacing me on all sides, yet without one trusty friend to whom I can open my heart."[892]

Margaret seems to have been less prepared than might have been expected for the decision of Orange. Yet she determined not to let him depart from the country without an effort to retain him. She accordingly sent her secretary, Berty, to the prince at Antwerp, to enter into the matter more freely, and, if possible, prevail on him to review the grounds of his decision. William freely, and at some length, stated his reasons for declining the oath. "If I thus blindly surrender myself to the will of the king, I may be driven to do what is most repugnant to my principles, especially in the stern mode of dealing with the sectaries. I may be compelled to denounce some of my own family, even my wife, as Lutherans, and to deliver them into the hands of the executioner. Finally," said he, "the king may send some one in his royal name to rule over us, to whom it would be derogatory for me to submit." The name of "Alva" escaped, as if involuntarily, from his lips,—and he was silent.[893]

Berty endeavored to answer the objections of the prince, but the latter, interrupting him before he had touched on the duke of Alva, bluntly declared that the king would never be content while one of his great vassals was wedded to a heretic. It was his purpose, therefore, to leave the country at once, and retire to Germany; and with this remark he abruptly closed the conference.

The secretary, though mortified at his own failure, besought William to consent to an interview, before his departure, with Count Egmont, who, Berty trusted, might be more successful. To this William readily assented. This celebrated meeting took place at Willbroek, a village between Antwerp and Brussels. Besides the two lords there were only present Count Mansfeldt and the secretary.

After some discussion, in which each of the friends endeavored to win over the other to his own way of thinking, William expressed the hope that Egmont would save himself in time from the bloody tempest that, he predicted, was soon to fall on the heads of the Flemish nobles.[894] "I trust in the clemency of my sovereign," answered the count; "he cannot deal harshly with men who have restored order to the country." "This clemency you so extol," replied William, "will be your ruin. Much I fear that the Spaniards will make use of you as a bridge to effect their entrance into the country!"[895] With this ominous prediction on his lips, he tenderly embraced the count,{302} with tears in his eyes, bidding him a last farewell. And thus the two friends parted, like men who were never to meet again.

The different courses pursued by the two nobles were such as might be expected from the difference of both their characters and their circumstances. Egmont, ardent, hopeful, and confiding, easily surrendered himself to the illusions of his own fancy, as if events were to shape themselves according to his wishes. He had not the far-seeing eye of William, which seemed to penetrate into events as it did into characters. Nor had Egmont learned, like William, not to put his trust in princes. He was, doubtless, as sincerely attached to his country as the prince of Orange, and abhorred, like him, the system of persecution avowed by the government. But this persecution fell upon a party with whom he had little sympathy. William, on the other hand, was a member of that party. A blow aimed at them was aimed also at him. It is easy to see how different were the stakes of the two nobles in the coming contest, both in respect to their sympathies and their interests. Egmont was by birth a Fleming. His estates were in Flanders, and there, too, were his hopes of worldly fortune. Exile to him would have been beggary and ruin. But a large, if not the larger part of William's property, lay without the confines of the Netherlands. In withdrawing to Germany, he went to his native land. His kindred were still there. With them he had maintained a constant correspondence, and there he would be welcomed by troops of friends. It was a home, and no place of exile, that William was to find in Germany.

Shortly after this interview, the prince went to his estates at Breda, there to remain a few days before quitting the country.[896] From Breda he wrote to Egmont, expressing the hope that, when he had weighed them in his mind, he would be contented with the reasons assigned for his departure. The rest he would leave to God, who would order all for his own glory. "Be sure," he added, "you have no friend more warmly devoted to you than myself; for the love of you is too deeply rooted in my heart to be weakened either by time or distance."[897] It is pleasing to see that party spirit had not, as in the case of more vulgar souls, the power to rend asunder the ties which had so long bound these great men to each other; to see them still turning back, with looks of accustomed kindness, when they were entering the paths that were to lead in such opposite directions.

William wrote also to the king, acquainting him with what he had done, and explaining the grounds of it; at the same time renewing the declaration that, wherever he might be, he trusted never to be found wanting to the obligations of a true and faithful vassal. Before leaving Breda, the prince received a letter from the politic regent, more amiable in its import than might have been expected. Perhaps it was not wholly policy that made her unwilling to part with him in anger. She expressed her readiness to do him any favor in her power. She had always felt for him, she said, the same affection as for her own son, and should ever continue to do so.[898]{303}

On the last of April, William departed for Germany. He took with him all his household except his eldest son, the count of Buren, then a boy thirteen years old, who was pursuing his studies at the university of Louvain.[899] Perhaps William trusted to the immunities of Brabant, or to the tender age of the youth, for his protection. If so, he grievously miscalculated. The boy would serve as too important a hostage for his father, and Philip caused him to be transferred to Madrid; where, under the monarch's eye, he was educated in religious as well as in political sentiments very little in harmony with those of the prince of Orange. Fortunately, the younger brother, Maurice, who inherited the genius of his father, and was to carry down his great name to another generation, was allowed to receive his training under the paternal roof.[900]

Besides his family, William was accompanied by a host of friends and followers, some of them persons of high consideration, who preferred banishment with him to encountering the troubles that awaited them at home. Thus attended, he fixed his residence at Dillemburg, in Nassau, the seat of his ancestors, and the place of his own birth. He there occupied himself with studying the Lutheran doctrine under an experienced teacher of that persuasion;[901] and, while he kept a watchful eye on the events passing in his unhappy country, he endeavored to make himself acquainted with the principles of that glorious Reformation, of which, in connection with political freedom, he was one day to become the champion.

The departure of the prince of Orange caused general consternation in the Netherlands. All who were in anyway compromised by the late disturbances watched more anxiously than ever the signs of the coming tempest, as they felt they had lost the pilot who alone could enable them to weather it. Thousands prepared to imitate his example by quitting the country before it was too late. Among those who fled were the Counts Culemborg, Berg, Hoogstraten, Louis of Nassau, and others of inferior note, who passed into Germany, where they gathered into a little circle round the prince, waiting, like him, for happier days.

Some of the great lords, who had held out against the regent, now left alone, intimated their willingness to comply with her demands. "Count Hoorne," she writes to Philip, "has offered his services to me, and declares his readiness to take the oath. If he has spoken too freely, he says, it was not from any disaffection to the government, but from a momentary feeling of pique and irritation. I would not drive him to desperation, and from regard to his kindred I have consented that he should take his seat in the council{304} again."[902] The haughty tone of the duchess shows that she felt herself now so strongly seated as to be nearly indifferent whether the person she dealt with were friend or foe.[903]

Egmont, at this time, was endeavoring to make amends for the past by such extraordinary demonstrations of loyalty as should efface all remembrance of it. He rode through the land at the head of his troops, breaking up the consistories, arresting the rioters, and everywhere reëstablishing the Catholic worship. He loudly declared that those who would remain his friends must give unequivocal proofs of loyalty to the crown and the Roman Catholic faith. Some of those with whom he had been most intimate, disgusted with, this course, and distrusting, perhaps, such a deposit for their correspondence, sent back the letters they had received from him, and demanded their own in return.[904]

At Brussels Egmont entered into all the gayeties of the court, displaying his usual magnificence in costly fêtes and banquets, which the duchess of Parma sometimes honored with her presence. The count's name appears among those which she mentions to Philip as of persons well affected to the government. "It is impossible," she says, "not to be satisfied with his conduct."[905] Thus elated by the favor of the regent—next in importance to that of royalty itself—the ill-fated nobleman cherished the fond hope that the past would now be completely effaced from the memory of his master,—a master who might forget a benefit, but who was never known to forgive an injury.

The great towns throughout the land had now generally intimated their willingness to submit to the requisitions of Margaret, and many of them had admitted garrisons within their walls. Antwerp only, of the cities of Brabant, remained intractable. At length it yielded to the general impulse, and a deputation was sent to the regent to sue for her forgiveness, and to promise that the leaders in the late disturbances should be banished from the city. This was a real triumph to the royal party, considering the motley character of the population, in which there was so large an infusion of Calvinism. But Margaret, far from showing her satisfaction, coolly answered that they must first receive a garrison; then she would intercede for them with the king, and would herself consent to take up her residence in the city. In this the inhabitants, now well humbled, affected willingly to acquiesce; and soon after Count Mansfeldt, at the head of sixteen companies of foot, marched into Antwerp in battle array, and there quartered his soldiers as in a conquered capital.

A day was fixed for the regent's entry, which was to be made with all becoming pomp. Detachments of troops were stationed in the principal avenues, and on the thirtieth of April Margaret rode into Antwerp, escorted by twelve hundred Walloons, and accompanied by the knights of the Golden Fleece, the great lords, and the provincial magistrates. As the glittering procession passed through the files of the soldiery, along the principal streets,{305} it was greeted with the huzzas of the fickle populace. Thus cheered on her way, the regent proceeded first to the cathedral, where Te Deum was chanted, and on her knees she returned thanks to the Almighty, that this great city had been restored without battle or bloodshed to the king and the true faith.[906] As her eyes wandered over the desecrated altars and the walls despoiled of their ornaments, their rich sculpture and paintings, by the rude hand of violence, Margaret could not restrain her tears. Her first care was to recover, as far as possible, the stolen property, and repair the injuries to the building; the next, to punish the authors of these atrocities; and the execution in the market-place of four of the ringleaders proclaimed to the people of Antwerp that the reign of anarchy was over.

Margaret next caused the churches of the reformed party to be levelled with the ground. Those of the Romish faith, after being purified, and the marks of violence, as far as practicable, effaced, were restored to their ancient occupants. The Protestant schools were everywhere closed. The children who had been baptized with Protestant rites were now re-baptized after the Catholic.[907] In fine, the reformed worship was interdicted throughout the city, and that of the Romish church, with its splendid ritual, was established in its place.

On occupying Antwerp, Margaret had allowed all who were not implicated in the late riots to leave the city with their effects. Great numbers now availed themselves of this permission, and the streets presented the melancholy spectacle of husbands parting from their wives, parents from their children, or, it might be, taking their families along with them to some kinder land, where they would be allowed to worship God according to the dictates of their own consciences.

But even this glimmering of a tolerant spirit,—if so it can be called,—which Margaret exhibited at the outset, soon faded away before the dark spirit of the Inquisition. On the twenty-fourth of May, she published an edict, written in the characters of blood which distinguished the worst times of Charles and of Philip. By this edict, all who had publicly preached, or who had performed the religions exercises after the Protestant manner, all who had furnished the places of meeting, or had harbored or aided the preachers, all printers of heretical tracts, or artists who with their pencil had brought ridicule on the Church of Rome,—all, in short, who were guilty of these or similar iniquities, were to be punished with death and confiscation of property. Lighter offences were to be dealt with according to the measure of their guilt. The edict containing these humane provisions is of considerable length, and goes into a large specification of offences, from which few, if any, of the reformed could have been entirely exempt.[908] When this ordinance of the regent was known at Madrid, it caused great dissatisfaction. The king pronounced it "indecorous, illegal, and altogether repugnant to the true spirit of Christianity;"[909] and he ordered Margaret forthwith to revoke the edict. It was accordingly repealed on the twenty-third of July following. The reader who may be disposed to join heartily in the malediction may not be prepared to learn that the cause of the royal indignation was not that the{306} edict was too severe, but that it was too lenient! It nowhere denounced the right of private worship. A man might still be a heretic at heart and at his own fireside, so long as he did not obtrude it on the public. This did not suit the Inquisition, whose jealous eye penetrated into the houses and the hearts of men, dragging forth their secret thoughts into open day, and punishing these like overt acts. Margaret had something yet to learn in the school of persecution.[910]

While at Antwerp, the regent received an embassy from the elector of Saxony, the landgrave of Hesse, and other Protestant princes of Germany, interceding for the oppressed Lutherans, and praying that she would not consent to their being so grievously vexed by the Catholic government. Margaret, who was as little pleased with the plain terms in which this remonstrance was conveyed as with the object of it, coldly replied, that the late conduct of the Flemish Protestants doubtless entitled them to all this sympathy from the German princes; but she advised the latter to busy themselves with their own affairs, and leave the king of Spain to manage his as he thought best.[911]

Of all the provinces, Holland was the only one which still made resistance to the will of the regent. And here, as we have already seen, was gathered a military array of some strength. The head-quarters were at Brederode's town of Viana. But that chief had left his followers for the present, and had been secretly introduced into Amsterdam, where, as before noticed, he was busy in rousing a spirit of resistance in the citizens, already well prepared for it by their Protestant preachers. The magistrates, sorely annoyed, would gladly have rid themselves of Brederode's presence, but he had too strong a hold on the people. Yet, as hour after hour brought fresh tidings of the disasters of his party, the chief himself became aware that all hopes of successful resistance must be deferred to another day. Quitting the city by night, he contrived, with the aid of his friends, to make his escape into Germany. Some months he passed in Westphalia, occupied with raising forces for a meditated invasion of the Netherlands, when, in the summer of 1568, he was carried off by a fever, brought on, it is said, by his careless, intemperate way of life.[912]

Brederode was a person of a free and fearless temper,—with the defects, and the merits too, that attach to that sort of character. The friendship with which he seems to have been regarded by some of the most estimable persons of his party—Louis of Nassau, especially—speaks well for his heart. The reckless audacity of the man is shown in his correspondence; and the free manner in which he deals with persons and events makes his letters no less interesting than important for the light they throw on these troubled times. Yet it cannot be denied that, after all, Brederode is indebted much{307} more to the circumstances of his situation than to his own character for the space he occupies in the pages of history.[913]