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Rise of the Dutch Republic, the — Volume 23: 1576 by John Lothrop Motley
page 37 of 71 (52%)
to a crisis. A congress--a rebellious congress, as the King might deem
it--was assembling at Ghent; the Spanish army, proscribed, lawless, and
terrible, was strengthening itself daily for some dark and mysterious
achievement; Don John of Austria, the King's natural brother, was
expected from Spain to assume the government, which the State Council was
too timid to wield and too loyal to resign, while, meantime, the whole
population of the Netherlands, with hardly an exception, was disposed to
see the great question of the foreign soldiery settled, before the chaos
then existing should be superseded by a more definite authority.
Everywhere, men of all ranks and occupations--the artisan in the city,
the peasant in the fields--were deserting their daily occupations to
furbish helmets, handle muskets, and learn the trade of war. Skirmishes,
sometimes severe and bloody, were of almost daily occurrence. In these
the Spaniards were invariably successful, for whatever may be said of
their cruelty and licentiousness, it cannot be disputed that their
prowess was worthy of their renown. Romantic valor, unflinching
fortitude, consummate skill, characterized them always. What could half-
armed artisans achieve in the open plain against such accomplished foes?
At Tisnacq, between Louvain and Tirlemont, a battle was attempted by a
large miscellaneous mass of students, peasantry, and burghers, led by
country squires. It soon changed to a carnage, in which the victims were
all on one side. A small number of veterans, headed by Vargas, Mendoza,
Tassis, and other chivalrous commanders, routed the undisciplined
thousands at a single charge. The rude militia threw away their arms,
and fled panic-struck in all directions, at the first sight of their
terrible foe. Two Spaniards lost their lives and two thousand
Netherlanders. It was natural that these consummate warriors should
despise such easily slaughtered victims. A single stroke of the iron
flail, and the chaff was scattered to the four winds; a single sweep of
the disciplined scythe, and countless acres were in an instant mown.
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