the whole destiny of the anti-Catholic party. "People had learned at
last," says another Walloon, "that the King had long arms, and that he
had not been enlisting soldiers to string beads. So they drew in their
horns and their evil tempers, meaning to put them forth again, should the
government not succeed at the siege of Valenciennes." The government had
succeeded, however, and the consternation was extreme, the general
submission immediate and even abject. "The capture of Valenciennes,"
wrote Noircarmes to Granvelle, "has worked a miracle. The other cities
all come forth to meet me, putting the rope around their own necks."
No opposition was offered any where. Tournay had been crushed;
Valenciennes, Bois le Duc, and all other important places, accepted their
garrisons without a murmur. Even Antwerp had made its last struggle, and
as soon as the back of Orange was turned, knelt down in the dust to
receive its bridle. The Prince had been able, by his courage and wisdom,
to avert a sanguinary conflict within its walls, but his personal
presence alone could guarantee any thing like religious liberty for the
inhabitants, now that the rest of the country was subdued. On the 26th
April, sixteen companies of infantry, under Count Mansfeld, entered the
gates. On the 28th the Duchess made a visit to the city, where she was
received with respect, but where her eyes were shocked by that which she
termed the "abominable, sad, and hideous spectacle of the desolated
churches."

To the eyes of all who loved their fatherland and their race, the sight
of a desolate country, with its ancient charters superseded by brute
force, its industrious population swarming from the land in droves, as if
the pestilence were raging, with gibbets and scaffolds erected in every
village, and with a Sickening and universal apprehension of still darker
disasters to follow, was a spectacle still more sad, hideous, and
abominable.