hat empire, of which by the Burgundian treaty the
Netherlands formed an integral part, was claimed by them with some
appearance of right. These three religious denominations met together
in Antwerp, where the crowded population concealed them, and the
mingling of all nations favored liberty. They had nothing in common,
except an equally inextinguishable hatred of popery, of the Inquisition
in particular, and of the Spanish government, whose instrument it was;
while, on the other hand, they watched each other with a jealousy which
kept their zeal in exercise, and prevented the glowing ardor of
fanaticism from waxing dull.

The regent, in expectation that the projected "moderation" would be
sanctioned by the king, had, in the meantime, to gratify the Gueux,
recommended the governors and municipal officers of the provinces to be
as moderate as possible in their proceedings against heretics;
instructions which were eagerly followed, and interpreted in the widest
sense by the majority, who had hitherto administered the painful duty of
punishment with extreme repugnance. Most of the chief magistrates were
in their hearts averse to the Inquisition and the Spanish tyranny, and
many were even secretly attached to one or other of the religious
parties; even the others were unwilling to inflict punishment on
their countrymen to gratify their sworn enemies, the Spaniards.
All, therefore, purposely misunderstood the regent, and allowed the
Inquisition and the edicts to fall almost entirely into disuse.
This forbearance of the government, combined with the brilliant
representations of the Gueux, lured from their obscurity the
Protestants, who, however, had now grown too powerful to be any longer
concealed. Hitherto they had contented themselves with secret
assemblies by night; now they thought themselves numerous and formidable
enough to venture to these meetings openly and publicly. This license
commenced somewhere between Oudenarde and Ghent, and soon spread through
the rest of Flanders. A certain Herrnann Stricker, born at Overyssel,
formerly a monk, a daring enthusiast of able mind, imposing figure, and
ready tongue, was the first who collected the people for a sermon in the
open air. The novelty of the thing gathered together a crowd of about
seven thousand persons. A magistrate of the neighborhood, more
courageous than wise, rushed amongst the crowd with his drawn sword, and
attempted to seize the preacher, but was so roughly h