FAITHFUL WITNESSES
OCTOBER 17th, 1568. "There is sorrow on the sea; it cannot be quiet." (Jer. 49:2323Concerning Damascus. Hamath is confounded, and Arpad: for they have heard evil tidings: they are fainthearted; there is sorrow on the sea; it cannot be quiet. (Jeremiah 49:23).) For many days past the Bible words I have just written have seemed to be saying themselves over to me. Sometimes like an anthem, set to grand but mournful music; at others I seem to hear them as the autumn wind sighs through the branches of some almost leafless tree; and yet I have never seen the sea, and mother says that the wave-less, sometimes almost stagnant water of our dykes can give me but a very faint idea of what the sea is like.
But at one of the few field preachings we were able to attend I heard it said that God in His word uses the waves of the sea as a picture or figure of nations, or people; and I am sure this must be true of Holland, for there is sorrow everywhere, and no one seems happy or at rest.
But I must not forget or be unthankful for the bright gleams that God in His mercy sometimes sends to lighten the gloom that hangs over the Netherlands. We have seen my father again, though only for a very short time, and more than once he has been able to write to mother; and it is such a joy to know that he is well and able to help the Prince of Orange, who is very kind to him, and has shown in more ways than one that he looks upon him as a faithful friend.
Our meeting was a very happy one. Father felt it would be unsafe to come to the house, but a messenger from the friend who had given me warning on the night of his arrest, told mother that a lonely marsh at some distance from the town was the appointed place of meeting. So under cover of darkness mother and I set out, guided and attended by Truyken, who would not be persuaded to remain at home when it was possible that she might get sight or speech of her much-loved master.
We had some time to wait, but father came at last, and told us how, on the night of his escape, his friend, Count Herr von Delph, waited for him in a boat, moored at some distance from our house. He was taken to a castle belonging to the count, where for ten weeks, seeing no one but two old and trusted servants, he had remained, treated as the guest of the friend to whom under God he owed his liberty, perhaps his life. But the time had come when it was judged safe for him to leave, and though he must not be seen in Antwerp, two courses lay before him: the count would either use his influence, and his gold, to procure him a passage to England, where, though we could not accompany him, he hoped later to find means of sending us; or he might join the Prince of Orange in Flanders, where he was greatly in need of faithful friends and trusty helpers. Drawing mother to him, he said very gently, "Constanza, you shall decide; which path shall I take?”
Mother was silent for a few moments, and I think I understood something of what she felt, indeed she told me afterward how the vision of a home in free, peaceful England, where we could all be together, rose before her. On the other hand, she saw for him the hardships and dangers of a soldier's life. But she knew how loyal he was to the prince, and how he loved his country, and how a still higher and purer motive would guide him in his course, his desire to do the will of God; so forcing back the tears that were ready to fall, she answered, "Dear Mark, you have given me my choice, but I cannot, dare not decide for you. Do what you believe to be God's way for you. I know it will be best for each and all of us.”
We knelt together on the thick rank grass with which the moor was covered, and father prayed, oh! so earnestly, for his loved ones and himself. Then loving words of farewell, in which Truyken was not forgotten, were spoken, and that night father was on his way to join the prince in Flanders.
There have not been any public burnings in Antwerp just lately, but the prisons are said to be full, and we often hear from other parts of Holland of the faith and courage given to those who were called to suffer, or even to die for the Savior they loved. We can never forget the brave old soldier martyred at Mons, who said, as they bound him to the stake, “I have risked my life often for the emperor, and shall I shrink from offering it now to my Savior?
A father, mother and four sons suffered together at Lisle. When the officers of the Inquisition arrested the elder members of the family, two sons, quite young boys, were absent; but on hearing what had happened, they gave themselves up. "Will you also go to the New Jerusalem?" asked the father. "We will go," the boys replied. And they have gone.
One young wife in another place was remanded for a time after all she had loved best on earth had died at the stake. "Ah, my lords," she said, "I have languished long enough in prison. Why do you keep me any longer? I feel strong enough, God be praised! to follow my father, husband and brother." And before many days had passed she too had joined the "noble army of martyrs.”
Many hundreds of people, most of whom belong to the better class, have joined the ranks of the "gueux." One bright, spring day great crowd assembled in the most perfect order in the market-square to await the result of an interview the Duchess Margaret had consented to grant to several noblemen who, headed by Louis of Nassau, brother to the Prince of Orange, again presented a petition begging the King of Spain to allow religious liberty to his loyal and faithful subjects of the Netherlands. The duchess seemed even more troubled than before, and tears rolled down her cheeks; but they were tears of passion and wounded pride, and nothing has as yet been gained. Only we see the beggar's dress everywhere; young nobles who not many months ago would not have appeared in public without embroidered cloaks and velvet bonnets, now wear suits of coarse gray cloth, but in many cases the beggar's bowls and wallets they carry are inlaid in silver, with the names or crests of their owners.
We hear that the prince is not pleased with the way in which many of them are acting, and has expressed a fear that they will do more to hinder than to help the cause of truth and freedom. He is still working almost night and day. Truyken, who always speaks her mind pretty plainly, thinks that they are playing beggars, much in the same way in which children sometimes play being soldiers, and that their dainty little bowls will soon be thrown away when there is really nothing to put in them. Truyken, though "no scholar," is, as mother sometimes says, "a woman of quick understanding," and often seems to see a long way before her.
The prince had no easy time of it. He, seemed to be wanted by everyone at once, and his presence and advice were asked for in so many places that he must often have found it difficult to decide where he was most needed, lie had been appointed to act as deputy-governor of Holland and Zealand, and though the terror of the Inquisition still hung like a dark cloud over the whole country, much had been done to bring about a happier state of things, and in some places those of the reformed faith were even allowed, though under certain restrictions, to hold services, conducted by their own pastors. If we could have stayed in Antwerp father thinks the outbreak, that will make the 15th of August a day to be long and sorrowfully remembered, would never have taken place; but just a week before he had left for Brussels, having received an urgent message from the duchess that she needed his help to protect her from the nobles, who were getting so angry that no notice had been taken of their petitions, that she was afraid they would take up arms against her.
A great festival was to be held in honor of the Virgin Mary, but there were many in the town and neighborhood who saw that it was wrong to worship pictures and images. These were, for the most part, orderly and peace-loving people, who would have been content to show their disapproval by not joining the procession; but the gueux and their leaders seemed ready for any wild and lawless undertaking; they were quickly joined by others who, though they cared nothing at all for the gospel, were impatient under the despotic rule of King Philip and the duchess.
On that day a grand procession always took place. A very large image of the Virgin Mary, dressed in costly robes, glittering with gold and jewels, was carried round the city, accompanied by bands of music, and attended by priests and choir boys, who chanted a litany composed in honor of "The Queen of heaven.”
And what was the idol? Just a lifeless image, a helpless, dressed-up, wooden figure, that could have had little, if any, likeness to the lowly and gentle Mary of Nazareth, whose own words, "My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior" (Luke 1:46, 4746And Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord, 47And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. (Luke 1:46‑47)), God has had written in the Bible for us.
We heard that there was to be a rising of the people, but only half believed the report. The procession was followed by a crowd of wild boys and men who were, it was easy to see, ready for any mischief. Truyken, though she did not join the procession, placed herself at the door, kneeling and crossing as the image passed. At that moment one of the boys threw a handful of mud, aimed not at Truyken, but at the image; some of it fell, however, upon her snow-white apron, and this double insult made her very angry; she ran after the boy and boxed his ears soundly.
Mother was very thankful, and so was I, that the riot did not begin at our doors. The procession got fairly well through the city streets, and the image was replaced in the church, though idle crowds still lingered round the doors. Some of the wisest of our neighbors tried to persuade the people to go quietly to their homes, but they were too noisy and excited to listen to reason, and as the counselors could not agree upon what was best to be done, they did nothing to prevent the riot, that we had only too good grounds to fear would follow.