it was impossible for him to carry on his studies in
Madrid; and so, angry with his own laziness and luxury, he may have felt
the old sacred fire flash up in him, and have determined to go to Italy
and become a student and a worker once more.

The very day that he set out, Clusius of Arras, then probably the best
botanist in the world, arrived at Madrid; and, asking the reason of
Vesalius's departure, was told by their fellow-countryman, Charles de
Tisnacq, procurator for the affairs of the Netherlands, that Vesalius had
gone of his own free will, and with all facilities which Philip could
grant him, in performance of a vow which he had made during a dangerous
illness. Here, at least, we have a drop of information, which seems
taken from the stream sufficiently near to the fountain-head: but it must
be recollected that De Tisnacq lived in dangerous times, and may have
found it necessary to walk warily in them; that through him had been
sent, only the year before, that famous letter from William of Orange,
Horn, and Egmont, the fate whereof may be read in Mr. Motley's fourth
chapter; that the crisis of the Netherlands which sprung out of that
letter was coming fast; and that, as De Tisnacq was on friendly terms
with Egmont, he may have felt his head at times somewhat loose on his
shoulders; especially if he had heard Alva say, as he wrote, "that every
time he saw the despatches of those three senors, they moved his choler
so, that if he did not take much care to temper it, he would seem a
frenzied man." In such times, De Tisnacq may have thought good to return
a diplomatic answer to a fellow-countryman concerning a third
fellow-countryman, especially when that countryman, as a former pupil of
Melancthon at Wittemberg, might himself be under suspicion of heresy, and
therefore of possible treason.

Be this as it may, one cannot but suspect some strain of truth in the
story about the Inquisition; for, whether or not Vesalius operated on Don
Carlos, he had seen with his own eyes that miraculous Virgin of Atocha at
the bed's foot of the prince. He had heard his recovery attributed, not
to the operation, but to the intercession of Fray, now Saint Diego; {12}
and he must have had his thoughts thereon, and may, in an unguarded
moment, have spoken them.

For he was, be it always remembered, a Netherlander. The crisis of his
country was just at hand. Rebellion was inevitable, and, with rebellion,
horrors unutterable; and,