level within those sacred precincts, where even the bloodstained criminal
was secure, and the arm of secular justice was paralyzed.

But the work of degeneration had commenced. The atmosphere of the
cathedral was no longer holy in the eyes of increasing multitudes.
Better the sanguinary rites of Belgic Druids, better the yell of
slaughtered victims from the "wild wood without mercy" of the pagan
forefathers of the nation, than this fantastic intermingling of divine
music, glowing colors, gorgeous ceremonies, with all the burning,
beheading and strangling work which had characterized the system of
human sacrifice for the past half-century.

Such was the church of Notre Dame at Antwerp. Thus indifferent or
hostile towards the architectural treasure were the inhabitants of a
city, where in a previous age the whole population would have risked
their lives to defend what they esteemed the pride and garland of their
metropolis.

The Prince of Orange had been anxiously solicited by the Regent to attend
the conference at Duffel. After returning to Antwerp, he consented,
in consequence of the urgent entreaties of the senate, to delay his
departure until the 18th of August should be past. On the 13th of that
month he had agreed with the magistrates upon an ordinance, which was
accordingly published, and by which the preachings were restricted to the
fields. A deputation of merchants and others waited upon him with a
request to be permitted the exercises of the Reformed religion in the
city. This petition the Prince peremptorily refused, and the deputies,
as well as their constituents, acquiesced in the decision, "out of
especial regard and respect for his person." He, however, distinctly
informed the Duchess that it would be difficult or impossible to maintain