On the morning of the 15th, the city of Antwerp presented a fearful sight.  Three distinct armies were arrayed at different points within its walls.  The Calvinists, fifteen thousand strong, lay in their encampment on the Mere; the Lutherans, armed, and eager for action, were at St. Michael’s; the Catholics and the regulars of the city guard were posted on the square.  Between thirty-five and forty thousand men were up, according to the most moderate computation.  All parties were excited, and eager for the fray.  The fires of religious hatred burned fiercely in every breast.  Many malefactors and outlaws, who had found refuge in the course of recent events at Antwerp, were in the ranks of the Calvinists, profaning a sacred cause, and inspiring a fanatical party with bloody resolutions.  Papists, once and forever, were to be hunted down, even as they had been for years pursuing Reformers.  Let the men who had fed fat on the spoils of plundered Christians be dealt with in like fashion.  Let their homes be sacked, their bodies given to the dogs—­such were the cries uttered by thousands of armed men.

On the other hand, the Lutherans, as angry and as rich as the Catholics, saw in every Calvinist a murderer and a robber.  They thirsted after their blood; for the spirit of religious frenzy; the characteristic of the century, can with difficulty be comprehended in our colder and more sceptical age.  There was every probability that a bloody battle was to be fought that day in the streets of Antwerp—­a general engagement, in the course of which, whoever might be the victors, the city was sure to be delivered over to fire, sack, and outrage.  Such would have been the result, according to the concurrent testimony of eye-witnesses, and contemporary historians of every country and creed, but for the courage and wisdom of one man.  William of Orange knew what would be the consequence of a battle, pent up within the walls of Antwerp.  He foresaw the horrible havoc which was to be expected, the desolation which would be brought to every hearth in the city.  “Never were men so desperate and so willing to fight,” said Sir Thomas Gresham, who had been expecting every hour his summons to share in the conflict.  If the Prince were unable that morning to avert the impending calamity, no other power, under heaven, could save Antwerp from destruction.

The articles prepared on the 14th had been already approved by those who represented the Catholic and Lutheran interests.  They were read early in the morning to the troops assembled on the square and at St. Michael’s, and received with hearty cheers.  It was now necessary that the Calvinists should accept them, or that the quarrel should be fought out at once.  At ten o’clock, William of Orange, attended by his colleague, Hoogstraaten, together with a committee of the municipal authorities, and followed by a hundred troopers, rode to the Mere.  They wore red scarfs over their armor, as symbols by which all those who