ief merchants and bankers of Europe
suspended payment. Their creditors became bankrupt. At the Frankfort fair
there were more failures in one day than there had ever been in all the
years since Frankfort existed. In Genoa alone a million dollars of
interest were confiscated. It was no better in Antwerp; but Antwerp was
already ruined. There was a general howl of indignation and despair upon
every exchange, in every counting-room, in every palace, in every cottage
of Christendom. Such a tremendous repudiation of national debts was never
heard of before. There had been debasements of the currency, petty frauds
by kings upon their unfortunate peoples, but such a crime as this had
never been conceived by human heart before.

The archduke was fain to pawn his jewelry, his plate, his furniture, to
support the daily expenses of his household. Meantime he was to set an
army in the field to relieve a city, beleaguered by the most warlike
monarch in Christendom. Fortunately for him, that prince was in very
similar straits, for the pressure upon the public swindlers and the
auction sales of judicial ermine throughout his kingdom were not as
rapidly productive as had been hoped.

It was precisely at this moment, too, that an incident of another nature
occurred in Antwerp, which did not tend to make the believers in the
possibility of religious or political freedom more in love with the
system of Spain and Rome. Those blood-dripping edicts against heresy in
the Netherlands, of which enough has been said in previous volumes of
this history, and which had caused the deaths, by axe, faggot, halter, or
burial alive, of at least fifty thousand human creatures--however
historical scepticism may shut its eyes to evidence--had now been,
dormant for twenty years. Their activity had ceased with the pacification
of Ghent; but the devilish spirit which had inspired them still lived in
the persons of the Jesuits, and there were now more Jesuits in the
obedient provinces than there had been for years. We have seen that
Champagny's remedy for the ills the country was enduring was "more
Jesuits." And this, too, was Albert's recipe. Always "more Jesuits." And
now the time had come when the Jesuits thought that they might step
openly with their works into the daylight again. Of late years they had
shrouded themselves in comparative mystery, but from their seminaries and
colleges had gone forth a plentiful company of assassins against
Elizabeth and H