was cut into a hundred pieces.  The Seigneur de Beauvoir had reason, in the brief letter which gave an account of this exploit, to assure her Highness that there were “some very valiant fellows in his little troop.”  Certainly they had accomplished the enterprise entrusted to them with promptness, neatness, and entire success.  Of the great rebellious gathering, which every day had seemed to grow more formidable, not a vestige was left.

This bloody drama had been enacted in full sight of Antwerp.  The fight had lasted from daybreak till ten o’clock in the forenoon, during the whole of which period, the city ramparts looking towards Ostrawell, the roofs of houses, the towers of churches had been swarming with eager spectators.  The sound of drum and trumpet, the rattle of musketry, the shouts of victory, the despairing cries of the vanquished were heard by thousands who deeply sympathized with the rebels thus enduring so sanguinary a chastisement.  In Antwerp there were forty thousand people opposed to the Church of Rome.  Of this number the greater proportion were Calvinists, and of these Calvinists there were thousands looking down from the battlements upon the disastrous fight.

The excitement soon became uncontrollable.  Before ten o’clock vast numbers of sectaries came pouring towards the Red Gate, which afforded the readiest egress to the scene of action; the drawbridge of the Ostrawell Gate having been destroyed the night before by command of Orange.  They came from every street and alley of the city.  Some were armed with lance, pike, or arquebus; some bore sledge-hammers; others had the partisans, battle-axes, and huge two-handed swords of the previous century; all were determined upon issuing forth to the rescue of their friends in the fields outside the town.  The wife of Tholouse, not yet aware of her husband’s death, although his defeat was obvious, flew from street to street, calling upon the Calvinists to save or to avenge their perishing brethren.

A terrible tumult prevailed.  Ten thousand men were already up and in arms.—­It was then that the Prince of Orange, who was sometimes described by his enemies as timid and pusillanimous by nature, showed the mettle he was made of.  His sense of duty no longer bade him defend the crown of Philip—­which thenceforth was to be entrusted to the hirelings of the Inquisition—­but the vast population of Antwerp, the women, the children, and the enormous wealth of the richest Deity in the world had been confided to his care, and he had accepted the responsibility.  Mounting his horse, he made his appearance instantly at the Red Gate, before as formidable a mob as man has ever faced.  He came there almost alone, without guards.  Hoogstraaten arrived soon afterwards with the same intention.  The Prince was received with howls of execration.  A thousand hoarse voices called him the Pope’s servant, minister of Antichrist, and lavished upon him many more epithets of the same