LXXIII.

THE FALL OF ANTWERP.

BY JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY.'

MEANTIME the Spanish cavalry had cleft its way through the city. On the side farthest removed from the castle, along the Horse-market, opposite Newtown, the States' dragoons and the light horse of Beveren had been posted, and the flying masses of pursuers and pursued swept at last through this outer circle. Champagny was already there. He essayed, as his last hope, to rally the cavalry for a final stand, but the effort was fruitless. Already seized by the panic, they had attempted to rush from the city through the gate of Eeker. It was locked; 10 they then turned and fled towards the Red-gate, where they were met face to face by Don Pedro Tassis, who charged upon them with his dragoons. Retreat seemed hopeless. A horseman in complete armor, with lance in rest, was seen to leap from the parapet of the outer wall 15 into the moat below, whence, still on horseback, he escaped with life. Few were so fortunate. The confused mob of fugitives and conquerors-Spaniards, Walloons, Germans, burghers struggling, shouting, striking, cursing, dying, swayed hither and thither like a stormy sea. 20 Along the spacious Horse-market the fugitives fled onward towards the quays. Many fell beneath the swords of the Spaniards, numbers were trodden to death by the hoofs of horses, still greater multitudes were hunted into the Scheldt. Champagny, who had thought it possible, 25 even at the last moment, to make a stand in the New

town and to fortify the Palace of the Hansa, saw himself deserted. With great daring and presence of mind he effected his escape to the fleet of the Prince of Orange in the river. The Marquis of Havré, of whom no deeds of valor on that eventful day have been recorded, was equally successful. The unlucky Oberstein, attempting to leap into a boat, missed his footing, and, oppressed by the weight of his armor, was drowned.

Meantime, while the short November day was fast declining, the combat raged in the interior of the city.10 Various currents of conflict, forcing their separate way through the many streets, had at last mingled in the Grande Place. Around this irregular, not very spacious square, stood the gorgeous Hotel de Ville, and the tall, many-storied, fantastically gabled, richly decorated pal-1 aces of the guilds. Here a long struggle took place. It was terminated for a time by the cavalry of Vargas, who, arriving through the streets of Saint Joris, accompanied by the traitor Van Ende, charged decisively into the mêlée. The masses were broken, but multitudes of 20 armed men found refuge in the buildings, and every house became a fortress. From every window and balcony a hot fire was poured into the square, as, pent in a corner, the burghers stood at last at bay. It was difficult to carry the houses by storm, but they were soon set 2 on fire. A large number of sutlers and other varlets had accompanied the Spaniards from the citadel, bringing torches and kindling materials for the express purpose of firing the town. With great dexterity these means were now applied, and in a brief interval the City: Hall and other edifices on the square were in flames. The conflagration spread with rapidity, house after house, street after street, taking fire. Nearly a thousand buildings, in the most splendid and wealthy quarter of

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the city, were soon in a blaze, and multitudes of human beings were burned with them. In the City Hall many were consumed, while others leaped from the windows. to renew the combat below. The many tortuous streets which led down a slight descent from the rear of thes Town House to the quays were all one vast conflagration. On the other side, the magnificent cathedral, separated from the Grande Place by a single row of buildings, was lighted up, but not attacked by the flames. The tall spire cast its gigantic shadow across the last desperate 10 conflict. In the street called the Canal au Sucre, immediately behind the Town House, there was a fierce struggle, a horrible massacre. A crowd of burghers, grave magistrates, and such of the German soldiers as remained alive, still confronted the ferocious Spaniards. 15 There, amid the flaming desolation, Goswyn Verreyck, the heroic margrave' of the city, fought with the energy of hatred and despair. The burgomaster Van der Meere lay dead at his feet; senators, soldiers, citizens, fell fast around him, and he sank at last upon a heap of slain. 20 With him effectual resistance ended. The remaining combatants were butchered, or were slowly forced downward to perish in the Scheldt. Women, children, old men, were killed in countless numbers, and still, through all this havoc, directly over the heads of the struggling 25 throng, suspended in mid-air above the din and smoke of the conflict, there sounded, every half-quarter of every hour, as if in gentle mockery, from the belfry of the cathedral, the tender and melodious chimes.

Never was there a more monstrous massacre, even in 30 the blood-stained history of the Netherlands. It was estimated that in the course of this and the two following days not less than eight thousand human beings were murdered. The Spaniards seemed to cast

off even the visor of humanity. Night fell upon the scene before the soldiers were masters of the city; but worse horrors began after the contest ended. This army of brigands had come thither with a definite, practical purpose, for it was not blood-thirst or lust, nor revenge, 5 which had impelled them, but it was avarice, greediness for gold. For gold they had waded through all this blood and fire. Never had men more simplicity of purpose, more directness in its execution. They had conquered their India at last; its golden mines lay all be-10 fore them, and every sword should open a shaft. They had come to take possession of the city's wealth, and they set themselves faithfully to accomplish their task. For gold, infants were dashed out of existence in their mothers' arms; for gold, parents were tortured in their 15 children's presence; for gold, brides were scourged to death before their husbands' eyes. Wherever treasure was suspected, every expedient which ingenuity, sharpened by greediness, could suggest, was employed to extort it from its possessors. The fire, spreading more 20 extensively and more rapidly than had been desired. through the wealthiest quarter of the city, had unfortunately devoured a vast amount of property. Six millions, at least, had thus been swallowed; a destruction by which no one had profited. There was, however, 25 much left. The strong boxes of the merchants, the gold, silver, and precious jewelry, the velvets, satins, brocades, laces, and similar well-concentrated and portable plunder, were rapidly appropriated.

On the morning of the 5th of November, Antwerp: presented a ghastly sight. The magnificent marble Town House, celebrated as a "world's wonder," even in that age and country, in which so much splendor was lavished on municipal palaces, stood a blackened ruin—

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all but the walls destroyed, while its archives, accounts, and other valuable contents had perished. The more splendid portion of the city had been consumed, at least five hundred palaces, mostly of marble or hammered stone, being a smoldering mass of destruction. The s dead bodies of those fallen in the massacre were on every side, in greatest profusion around the Place de Meer, among the Gothic pillars of the Exchange, and in the streets near the Town House. The German soldiers lay in their armor, some with their heads burned from their 10 bodies, some with legs and arms consumed by the flames through which they had fought. The margrave Goswyn Verreyck, the burgomaster Van der Meere, the magistrates Lancelot Van Urselen, Nicholas Van Boekholt, and other leading citizens lay among piles of less 15 distinguished slain. They remained unburied until the overseers of the poor, on whom the living had then more importunate claims than the dead, were compelled by Roda to bury them out of the pauper fund. The murderers were too thrifty to be at funeral charges for their 20 victims. The ceremony was not hastily performed, for the number of corpses had not been completed. Two days longer the havoc lasted in the city. Of all the crimes which men can commit, whether from deliberate calculation or in the frenzy of passion, hardly one was 25 omitted. History has recorded the account indelibly on her brazen tablets; it can be adjusted only at the judgment seat above.

Of all the deeds of darkness yet compassed in the Netherlands, this was the worst. It was called the 30 Spanish Fury, by which dread name it has been known for ages. The city, which had been a world of wealth and splendor, was changed to a charnel house, and from that hour its commercial prosperity was blasted. Other