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was disposed to see the great question of the foreign soldiery settled, before the chaos then existing should be superseded by a more definite authority.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.