exertions, and those of the troops belonging to Groningen, many lives
were rescued, and gratitude replaced the ancient animosity. It was
estimated that at least twenty thousand persons were destroyed in the
province of Friesland alone. Throughout the Netherlands, one hundred
thousand persons perished. The damage alone to property, the number of
animals engulfed in the sea, were almost incalculable.

These events took place on the 1st and 2nd November, 1570. The former
happened to be the day of All Saints, and the Spaniards maintained loudly
that the vengeance of Heaven had descended upon the abode of heretics.
The Netherlanders looked upon the catastrophe as ominous of still more
terrible misfortunes in store for them. They seemed doomed to destruction
by God and man. An overwhelming tyranny had long been chafing against
their constitutional bulwarks, only to sweep over them at last; and now
the resistless ocean, impatient of man's feeble barriers, had at last
risen to reclaim his prey. Nature, as if disposed to put to the blush the
feeble cruelty of man, had thus wrought more havoc in a few hours, than
bigotry, however active, could effect in many years.

Nearly at the close of this year (1570) an incident occurred,
illustrating the ferocious courage so often engendered in civil contests.
On the western verge of the Isle of Bommel, stood the castle of
Lowestein. The island is not in the sea. It is the narrow but important
territory which is enclosed between the Meuse and the Waal. The castle,
placed in a slender hook, at the junction of the two rivers, commanded
the two cities of Gorcum and Dorcum, and the whole navigation of the
waters. One evening, towards the end of December, four monks, wearing the
cowls and robes of Mendicant Grey Friars, demanded hospitality at the
castle gate. They were at once ushered into the presence of the
commandant, a brother of President Tisnacq. He was standing by the fire,
conversing with his wife. The foremost monk approaching him, asked
whether the castle held for the Duke of Alva or the Prince of Orange. The
castellian replied that he recognized no prince save Philip, King of
Spain. Thereupon the monk, who was no other than Herman de Ruyter, a
drover by trade, and a warm partisan of Orange, plucked a pistol from
beneath his robe, and shot the commandant through the head. The others,
taking advantage of the sudden panic, overcame all the resistance offered
by the feeble garrison, and