ed free of the inquisition. Meanwhile the pamphlets,
handbills, pasquils, and other popular productions were multiplied. To
use a Flemish expression, they "snowed in the streets." They were nailed
nightly on all the great houses in Brussels. Patriots were called upon to
strike, speak, redress. Pungent lampoons, impassioned invectives, and
earnest remonstrances, were thrust into the hands of the Duchess. The
publications, as they appeared; were greedily devoured by the people. "We
are willing," it was said, in a remarkable letter to the King, "to die
for the Gospel, but we read therein 'Render unto Caesar that which is
Caesar's, and unto God that which is God's.' We thank God that our
enemies themselves are compelled to bear witness to our piety and
patience; so that it is a common saying--'He swears not; he is a
Protestant; he is neither a fornicator nor a drunkard; he is of the new
sect.' Yet, notwithstanding these testimonials to our character, no
manner of punishment has been forgotten by which we can possibly be
Chastised." This statement of the morality of the Puritans of the
Netherlands was the justification of martyrs--not the self-glorification
of Pharisees. The fact was incontrovertible. Their tenets were rigid, but
their lives were pure. They belonged generally to the middling and lower
classes. They were industrious artisans, who desired to live in the fear
of God and in honor of their King. They were protected by nobles and
gentlemen of high position, very many of whom came afterwards warmly to
espouse the creed which at first they had only generously defended. Their
whole character and position resembled, in many features, those of the
English Puritans, who, three quarters of a century afterwards, fled for
refuge to the Dutch Republic, and thence departed to establish the
American Republic. The difference was that the Netherlanders were exposed
to a longer persecution and a far more intense martyrdom.

Towards the end of the year (1565) which was closing in such universal
gloom; the contemporary chronicles are enlivened with a fitful gleam of
sunshine. The light enlivens only the more elevated regions of the
Flemish world, but it is pathetic to catch a glimpse of those nobles,
many of whose lives were to be so heroic, and whose destinies so tragic,
as amid the shadows projected by coming evil, they still found time for
the chivalrous festivals of their land and epoch. A splendid tournament
was held at the Ch