until the country looked like a camp of Spain. All this was necessary to keep the insurgent elements under foot, but it took large sums of money, and, although the confiscations were numerous enough, the expenses left no profits. The promised stream of gold flowed in the wrong direction for the royal coffers, and the duke had enemies at court whose tongues were never idle.

Of Alva's military ability there can be no question; he was now to show himself the most incapable of statesmen and financiers. In Spain, and in his own dukedom, there existed a very simple method of taxation. All the land paid one per cent. annually on its value, and when sold it paid five per cent. This latter tax was heavy, but that on the sales of personal property was twice as large, being one tenth of the selling price. Among an agricultural people, where land was rarely sold, and where the only sales of personal property were those of the produce of the soil, this system had worked without resistance. The brilliant idea now occurred to the Spanish general that, applied to the Netherlands, it would solve his financial problem and enable him to realize his promised stream of gold.

When this proposition was submitted to the assemblies of the states, in 1569, it was greeted with an indignant protest. Such a tax was not only violative of all the ancient charters, but it would be ruinous to trade. Among a manufacturing community an article is sold many times before it reaches the hand of the consumer. A tax of ten per cent. on every sale would amount to a substantial confiscation. These and kindred arguments were urged upon the duke, but he remained inflexible. His only answer was that it worked well among his people. At length all the representatives gave way except those from Utrecht. That prov

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ince was adjudged to have forfeited all its privileges and was subjected to an enormous fine. The people, however, were so aroused, and so great a pressure was brought to bear upon the governor, that in consideration of a large sum of ready money he consented, for two years, from 1570, to suspend the operation of the law. The two years rolled around, long enough for the persecuted Protestants, but far too short for the men of business, who foresaw impending ruin. When the time was up, Alva announced that there should be no more postponements.

Here, at last, the crisis of the struggle had arrived. Religious persecution must of necessity affect comparatively few, unjust taxation touches every member of society. Men may differ about articles of faith and theories of government, but all alike feel the burden when the tax-gatherer appears. Hence, sagacious statesmen glove the hand which fills the public purse. Of this wise policy, Alva, whose hands were cased in mail, knew nothing. The great difficulty in bringing about an uprising in the Netherlands had arisen from the fact that the Protestants for a long time were in a minority, and were mostly made up of the poorer classes. It was an age, too, when military discipline was all-important for conflicts in the field. The fortresses and walled towns with which the land was studded were mostly garrisoned by Spanish troops, and could be taken only by a general concert of action among the citizens. This concert of action, which had hitherto been impossible, the last act of Alva was now to bring about.

In 1570, the Huguenot war in France had come to an end by the ill-fated peace which led to the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. William of Orange had again retired to Germany. Ever watchful and untiring, he kept up a

constant communication with the Netherlands. There the work was going bravely on. The air was full of the electricity which precedes a storm. The discontent was universal, for the people foresaw the total destruction of their civil as well as their religious liberty. When the moment for action came, it developed a policy which America, two centuries later, followed in its resistance to the Stamp act. Rather than pay the tax of Alva, the people, by unanimous consent, suspended business. Every form of industry came to a sudden stand. Even the brewers refused to sell their beer, the bakers to make bread, or the hotel-keepers to furnish accommodations for their guests. Multitudes of workmen out of employment filled the streets; the Spanish soldiers went hungry because they could no longer purchase provisions. Alva, of course, was in a fury. Armed resisttance he could meet, but how make an entire people resume their occupations? At length he hit upon a plan in consonance with his whole course of conduct. Of yielding he had no thought, but he would make a terrible example of some of these refractory shopkeepers.

Early in April, 1572, he sent one night for the public executioner. To him he gave an order to arrest at once eighteen of the leading tradesmen of Brussels, and early in the morning hang them each in his own doorway. The ropes and extempore scaffolds were prepared, but before the morning dawned Alva was awakened to hear of something more important than the sale of bread and meat. It was the outbreak on the sea-coast which laid the foundations of the Dutch Republic.

In the latter days of March, a fleet of twenty-four vessels, belonging to the Beggars of the Sea, was lying off the southern coast of England. It was commanded by Admiral William de la Marck, a descendant of the

Wild Boar of Ardennes, whom Scott has immortalized in one of his great novels. He was related by blood to Egmont, and, according to the old Batavian custom, had sworn to let his hair and beard grow until his country was free or his kinsman's death had been avenged. A savage, lawless, and licentious ruffian, he had inflicted great damage on the commerce of Spain, and in his warfare had not always spared the property of neutrals. At this time the controversy between Elizabeth and Philip, arising out of the seizure of the Italian money, was hastening to an amicable adjustment. Alva complained bitterly of the countenance given by the people of England to the Netherland cruisers, who made that country a base of operations. The queen was willing to avoid a cause of offence which brought no benefit to her. She therefore issued a peremptory order, forbidding any of her subjects longer to supply them with provisions. Thus, driven out of their last port of refuge, De la Marck and his companions took to sea and started for the coast of Holland. Entering the Meuse, they suddenly appeared before the town of Brill.

Brill, though well walled and fortified, chanced at that moment to be without a Spanish garrison, its troops having been just before transferred to Utrecht. The Beggars, learning this fact, boldly demanded the surrender of the town. They numbered only three or four hundred, at the most, but the fame of their exploits and the fear of the inhabitants magnified them into as many thousands. Assured of protection for private property, the magistrates surrendered without resistance, but, having no confidence in the promises of the corsairs, at once fled the place, with all the leading citizens. Had De la Marck been alone, the outcome would have justified their apprehensions. He had determined to plunder

the town and then consign it to the flames. Fortunately wiser counsels prevailed. One of the ships was commanded by William de Blois, Seigneur of Treslong, whose father had once been governor of Brill. His brother had been executed by Alva, and he himself almost cut to pieces in the disastrous campaign of 1568. He had since taken to the sea and become one of the most distinguished of the Beggars. More far-sighted than the admiral, he insisted that the town should be held for the Prince of Orange. The ferocious De la Marck finally consented, but paid off part of his debt to the Council of Blood by sacking the churches and hanging thirteen monks and priests.*

The news of this exploit reached Alva just as he was preparing to try his scheme for opening the shops of Brussels. The joy shown on every face revealed the gravity of the situation. The executions could wait, but here was something that required immediate action. Ten companies of veterans were at once sent from Utrecht to retake the town. They arrived before its walls, but the quick-witted defenders cut the dikes and, rowing through the water, set fire to some of the transport-ships. Hemmed in between the flood and flame, the Spaniards retired and Brill was free. Its inhabitants returned to their homes and took an oath of allegiance to William, Prince of Orange, as stadtholder for his majesty. Not yet had the people any idea of renouncing their allegiance; but, although they knew it not, the corner-stone of the republic was laid, and they had discovered the mode of warfare which was to make their liberties secure.

*Motley, ii. 350-355. Shortly after this event the bloody and intractable De la Marck was removed from office, deprived of his commission, and forced to leave the country. Motley, ii. 435, 475.