“Then,” said the monk to Calleken, “go, wanton, go with this big man; go, I lift my curse from thee, but God and all the saints will have their eyes upon thee; go with this big man, go.”

And he held his peace, sweating and puffing.

Suddenly Lamme cried out:

“He puffs, he puffs! I see the sixth chin; at the seventh ’tis apoplexy! And now,” said he to the Beggars:

“I commend you to God, thou Ulenspiegel; to God, you all my good friends, to God, thou Nele; to God the holy inspirer of liberty: I can do no more for her cause.”

Then having given all and taken from all the kiss of parting, he said to his wife Calleken:

“Come, it is the hour for lawful loves.”

While the boat was slipping over the water, carrying off Lamme and his beloved, he in the stern, soldiers, sailors, and cabin boys all called out, waving their caps: “Adieu, brother; adieu, Lamme; adieu, brother, brother and friend.”

And Nele said to Ulenspiegel, taking a tear from out the corner of his eye with her dainty finger:

“Thou art sad, my beloved?”

“He was a good fellow,” said he.

“Ah!” said she, “this war will never end; shall we be forced to live forever in blood and in tears?”

“Let us seek out the Seven,” said Ulenspiegel: “it draws nigh, the hour of deliverance.”

Following Lamme’s behest, the Beggars fattened the monk in his cage. When he was set at liberty, in consideration of ransom, he weighed three hundred and seventeen pounds and five ounces, Flemish weight.

And he died prior of his convent.

VIII

At this time the States General assembled at The Hague to pass judgment upon Philip, King of Spain, Count of Flanders, of Holland, etc., according to the charters and privileges consented to by him.

And the clerk of the court spake as follows:

“It is to all men of common knowledge that a prince of any land so ever is established by God as sovereign and chief of his subjects that he may defend them and preserve them from all wrong, oppression, and violence, even as a shepherd is ordained for the defence and keeping of his sheep. It is in like manner known that subjects are not created by God for the use of the prince, to be obedient unto him in whatsoever he commandeth, be it seemly or unseemly, just or unjust, nor to serve in the manner of slaves. But the prince is a prince for his subjects, without which he could not be, to govern them in accordance with right and reason, to maintain and love them as a father doth his children, as a shepherd doth his sheep, hazarding his life to defend them; if he doth not so, he must needs be held for no prince but a tyrant. Philip the king hath launched upon us, by calling up of soldiers, by bulls of crusade and of excommunication, four armies of foreigners. What shall be his punishment, by virtue of the laws and customs of the country?”

“Let him be deposed,” replied the States.

“Philip hath played false to his oaths: he hath forgot the services we rendered him, the victories we aided him to win. Seeing that we were rich, he left us to be pillaged and put to ransom by the Council of Spain.”

“Let him be deposed as ungrateful and a robber,” replied the States.

“Philip,” the clerk went on, “placed in the most powerful cities of these countries new bishops, endowing and presenting them with the goods of the greatest abbeys; and by the help of these men he introduced the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Let him be deposed as a murderer, the squanderer of others’ wealth,” replied the States.

“The nobles of these countries, seeing this tyranny, presented in the year 1566 a request wherein they entreated the sovereign to moderate the rigour of his edicts and in especial those which concerned the Inquisition: he consistently refused this.”

“Let him be deposed as a tiger abandoned and obstinate in his cruelty,” replied the States.

The clerk continued:

“Philip is strongly suspected of having, through the intermediary of his Council of Spain, secretly inspired the image-breakings and the sacking of churches, in order to be able, under the pretext of suppressing crime and disorder, to send foreign armies to march against us.”

“Let him be deposed as an instrument of death,” replied the States.

“At Antwerp Philip caused the inhabitants to be massacred, ruined the Flemish merchants and the foreign merchants. He and his Council of Spain gave a certain Rhoda, a notorious scoundrel, the right by secret instructions to declare himself the head of the pillagers, to harvest the booty, to employ his name, the name of Philip the king, to counterfeit his seals and counterseals, and to comport himself at his governor and his lieutenant. The royal letters, which were intercepted and are in our hands, prove this to be the fact. All took place with his consent and after deliberation in the Council of Spain. Read his letters; therein he praises the feat of Antwerp, acknowledges that he hath received a signal service, promises to reward it, enjoins Rhoda and the other Spaniards to continue to walk in this path of glory.”

“Let him be deposed as a robber, pillager, and murderer,” replied the States.

“We ask for nothing more than the maintenance of our privileges, a sincere and assured peace, a moderate freedom, especially with regard to religion which principally concerns God and man’s own conscience: we had nothing from Philip but deceitful treaties serving to sow discord between the provinces, to subdue them one after another and to treat them in the same way as the Indies, by pillage, confiscation, executions, and the Inquisition.”

“Let him be deposed as an assassin premeditating the murder of a country,” replied the States.

“He made the country bleed through the Duke of Alba and his catchpolls, through Medina-Coeli, Requesens, the traitors of the Councils of State and of the provinces; he enjoined a vigorous and bloody severity upon Don Juan and Alexander Farnèse, Prince of Parma (as may be seen by his intercepted letters); he set the ban of the empire upon Monseigneur d’Orange, paid the hire of three assassins before paying a fourth; erected castles and fortresses among us; had men burned alive, women and girls buried alive; inherited their goods, strangled Montigny, de Berghes, and other lords, despite his kingly word; killed his son Carlos; poisoned the Prince of Ascoly, whom he made espouse Doña Eufrasia, with child by himself, in order to enrich with his estates the bastard that was to come; launched an edict against us that declared us all traitors, that had forfeited our bodies and our wealth, and committed the crime unheard of in a Christian land, of confounding innocent and guilty.”

“By all laws, rights, and privileges, let him be deposed,” replied the States.

And the king’s seals were broken.

And the sun shown on land and sea, gilding the ripened ears, mellowing the grape, casting pearls on every wave, the adornment of the bride of the Netherlands, Liberty.

Then the Prince of Orange, being at Delft, was stricken down by a fourth assassin, with three bullets in his breast. And he died, following his motto: “Calm amid the wild waves.”

His enemies said of him that to thwart King Philip, and not hoping to rule over the Southern Low Countries, which were Catholic, he had offered them by a secret treaty to Monseigneur Monsieur Sa Grande Altesse of Anjou. But Anjou was not born to beget the babe Belgium upon Liberty, who loveth not perverse amours.

And Ulenspiegel left the fleet with Nele.

And the fatherland Belgium groaned beneath the yoke, fast bound by traitors.

IX

They were then in the month of the ripened grain; the air was heavy, the wind was warm: the reapers, both men and women, could gather in at their ease in the fields, under the free sky, upon a free soil, the corn they had sown.

Frisia, Drenthe, Overyssel, Guelderland, North Brabant, North and South Holland, Walcheren, North and South Beveland; Duiveland and Schouwen that make up Zealand; all the shores of the North Sea from Knokke to Helder; the islands of Texel, Vieland, Ameland, Schiermonk-Oog, were, from the western Scheldt to the eastern Ems, about to be freed from the Spanish yoke; Maurice, the son of the Silent, was continuing the war.

Ulenspiegel and Nele, having their youth, their strength, and their beauty, for the love and the spirit of Flanders grow never old, were living snugly in the tower of Neere, waiting till, after many hard trials, they could come and breathe the air of freedom upon Belgium the fatherland.

Ulenspiegel had asked to be appointed commandant and warden of the tower, saying that having an eagle’s eyes and a hare’s ears, he could see if the Spaniard would not attempt to show himself once more in the delivered countries, and that in that case he would sound wacharm, which is the alarm in the speech of Flanders.

The magistrate did as Ulenspiegel wished: because of his good service he was given a florin a day, two quarts of beer, beans, cheese, biscuit, and three pounds of beef every week.

Thus Ulenspiegel and Nele lived very well by themselves two: seeing from afar, with rejoicing, the free isles of Zealand: near at hand, woods, castles, fortresses, and the armed ships of the Beggars guarding the coasts.

At night they often climbed up on the tower, and there, sitting on the platform, they talked of hard battles and goodly loves past and to come. Thence they beheld the sea, which in this time of heat surged and broke upon the shore in luminous waves, casting them upon the islands like phantoms of fire. And Nele was affrighted to see the jack o’lanterns in the polders, for, said she, they are the souls of the poor dead. And all these places had been battle-fields. The will o’ the wisps swept out from the polders, ran along the dykes, then came back into the polders as though they had no mind to abandon the bodies whence they had issued.

One night Nele said to Ulenspiegel:

“See how thick they are in Duiveland and how high they fly: ’tis by the isle of birds I see the most. Wilt thou come thither, Thyl? We shall take the balsam that discloseth things hid from the eyes of mortals.”

Ulenspiegel answered her:

“If it is the same balsam that wafted me to that great sabbath, I trow in it no more than a hollow dream.”

“Thou must not,” said Nele, “deny the potency of charms. Come, Ulenspiegel.”

“I shall come.”

The next day he asked the magistrate that a clear-sighted and trusty soldier should take his place, to guard the tower and keep watch over the country.

And with Nele he went his way to the isle of birds.

Going across fields and dykes, they beheld little green lush islets, between which ran the sea water; and upon the slopes of green sward that came down to the very dunes an immense concourse of plovers, of sea mews and sea swallows, that stayed motionless and made the islets all white with their bodies; overhead circled and flew thousands of the same. The ground was full of nests: Ulenspiegel, stooping to pick up an egg upon the way, saw a sea mew come flitting to him, uttering a cry. At his appeal there came more than a hundred others, crying with grief and fear, hovering above Ulenspiegel and over the neighbour nests, but they did not venture to come close to him.

“Ulenspiegel,” said Nele, “these birds beg grace for their eggs.”

Then falling a-tremble, she said:

“I am afeared; there is the sun setting; the sky is white, the stars awaken; ’tis the spirits’ hour. See these red exhalations, gliding along the earth; Thyl, my beloved, what monster of hell is thus opening his fiery mouth in the mist? See from the side of Philip’s land, where the butcher king twice for his cruel ambition slaughtered so many poor men, see the dancing will-o’-the-wisps: ’tis the night when the souls of poor folk slain in battle quit the cold limbo of purgatory to come and be warmed again in the soft air of the earth: ’tis the hour when thou mayst ask aught of Christ, who is the God of good magicians.”

“The ashes beat upon my heart,” said Ulenspiegel. “If Christ could show me these Seven whose ashes cast to the wind were to make Flanders and the whole world happy!”

“Man of little faith,” said Nele, “thou wilt see them by virtue of the balsam.”

“Perchance,” said Ulenspiegel, pointing to Sirius with a finger, “if some spirit descends from the cold star.”

At his movement a will-o’-the-wisp flitting about him perched on his finger, and the more he sought to be rid of it, the tighter it clung.

Nele trying to set Ulenspiegel free, she, too, had her will-o’-the-wisp on the tip of her hand.

Ulenspiegel, striking at his, said:

“Answer! art thou the spirit of a Beggar or of a Spaniard? If thou be the soul of a Beggar, depart into paradise; if the soul of a Spaniard, return into hell whence thou comest.”

Nele said to him:

“Do not insult souls, were they even the souls of butchers.”

And making the will-o’-the-wisp dance on her finger tip:

“Wisp,” said she, “dear wisp, what tidings dost thou bring us from the country of souls? What are they employed in over there? Do they eat and drink, since they have no mouths? for thou hast none, darling wisp! or do they indeed take human shape only in the blessed paradise?”

“Canst thou,” said Ulenspiegel, “waste time in this fashion conversing with this wretched flame that hath neither ears to hear thee with nor mouth to answer thee withal?”

But without heeding him:

“Wisp,” said Nele, “reply by dancing, for I will ask thee three times: once in the name of God, once in the name of Madame the Virgin, and once in the name of the elemental spirits that are messengers ’twixt God and man.”

And she did so, and the wisp danced three times.

Then Nele said to Ulenspiegel:

“Take off thy clothes; I shall do the same: here is the silver box in which is the balsam of vision.”

“’Tis all one to me,” said Ulenspiegel.

Then being unclad and anointed with the balsam of vision, they lay down beside each other naked on the grass.

The sea mews were plaining; the thunder was growling dull in the cloud where the lightning gleamed; the moon scarce displayed between two clouds the golden horns of her crescent; the will-o’-the-wisps on Ulenspiegel and Nele betook themselves off to dance with the others in the meadow.

Suddenly Ulenspiegel and Nele were caught up in the mighty hand of a giant who threw them into the air like children’s balloons, caught them again, rolled them one upon the other and kneaded them between his hands, threw them into the water pools between the hills and pulled them out again full of seaweed. Then carrying them thus through space, he sang with a voice that woke all the sea mews underneath with affright:

“That vermin, crawling, biting,
With squinting glances tries
To read the sacred writing
We hide from all men’s eyes.

“Read, flea, the secret rare;
Read, louse, the sacred term
That heaven, earth and air
With seven nails hold firm.”

And in very deed, Ulenspiegel and Nele saw upon the sward, in the air and in the sky, seven tablets of shining brass fastened thereto by seven flaming nails.

Upon the tablets there was written:

Amid the dung May saps arise;
If Seven’s ill, yet Seven’s well;
The diamond came from coal, they tell;
From foolish teachers, pupils wise —
If Seven’s ill, yet Seven’s well.

And the giant walked on followed by all the will-o’-the-wisps, which said, chirping and singing like grasshoppers:

“Look well at him, ’tis their Grand Master.
The Pope of popes and Lord of lords,
Can change great Cæsar to a pastor:
Look well at him, he’s made of boards.”

Suddenly his features changed; he seemed thinner, sadder, taller. In one hand he held a sceptre and a sword in the other. And his name was Pride.

And casting Nele and Ulenspiegel down upon the ground he said:

“I am God.”

Then close by him, riding on a goat, there appeared a ruddy girl, with bared bosom, her robe open, and a lively sparkling eye: her name was Lust; came then an old Jewess picking up the shells of sea mews’ eggs: she had Avarice to name; and a greedy, gluttonous monk, devouring chitterlings, stuffing sausages, and champing his jaws continually like the sow upon which he was mounted: this was Gluttony; next came Idleness dragging her legs, pallid and puffy, with dulled eyes, and Anger driving her before her with strokes of a goad. Idleness, woebegone, was bemoaning herself, and all in tears fell down upon her knees; then came lean Envy, with a viper’s head and pike’s teeth, biting Idleness because she was too much at her ease, Anger because she was too vivacious, Gluttony because he was too well stuffed, Lust because she was too red, Avarice for the eggshells, Pride because he had a purple robe and a crown. And all around danced the will-o’-the-wisps.

And speaking with the voices of men, of women, of girls and plaintive children, they said, moaning and groaning:

“Pride, father of ambition, Anger, spring of cruelty, ye slew us on the battle-field, in prisons and with torments, to keep your sceptres and your crowns! Envy, thou didst destroy in the bud many high and useful ideas; we are the souls of persecuted inventors: Avarice, thou didst coin into gold the blood of the poor common folk; we are the souls of thy victims; Lust, thou mate and sister of murder, that didst give birth to Nero, to Messalina, to Philip King of Spain, thou dost buy virtue and pay for corruption; we are the souls of the dead: Idleness and Gluttony, ye befoul the world, ye must be swept from out of it; we are the souls of the dead.”

And a voice was heard saying:

“Amid the dung May saps arise;
If Seven’s ill, yet Seven’s well;
For foolish teachers, pupils wise;
To win the coal and ashes, too,
What is the wandering louse to do?”

And the will-o’-the-wisps said:

“The fire, ’tis we, vengeance for the bygone tears, the woes of the people; vengeance for the lords that hunted human game upon their lands; vengeance for the fruitless battles, the blood spilt in prisons, men burned and women and girls buried alive; vengeance for the fettered and bleeding past. The fire, ’tis we: we are the souls of the dead.”

At these words the Seven were changed to wooden statues, while keeping every point of their former shape.

And a voice said:

“Ulenspiegel, burn the wood.”

And Ulenspiegel turning towards the will-o’-the-wisps:

“Ye that are fire,” said he, “perform your office.”

And the will-o’-the-wisps in a crowd surrounded the Seven, which burned and were reduced to ashes.

And a river of blood ran down.

And from out the ashes rose up seven other shapes; the first said:

“Pride was I named; I am called Noble Spirit.” The others spake in the same fashion, and Ulenspiegel and Nele saw from Avarice come forth Economy; from Anger, Vivacity; from Gluttony, Appetite; from Envy, Emulation; and from Idleness, the Reverie of poets and sages. And Lust upon her goat was transformed to a beautiful woman whose name was Love.

And the will-o’-the-wisps danced about them in a happy round.

Then Ulenspiegel and Nele heard a thousand voices of concealed men and women, sonorous and laughing voices that sang with a sound as of castanets:

“When over land and sea shall reign
In form transfigured all these seven,
Men, boldly raise your heads to heaven;
The Golden Age has come again.”

And Ulenspiegel said: “The spirits mock us.”

And a mighty hand seized Nele by the arm and hurled her into space.

And the spirits chanted:

“When the north
Shall kiss the west,
Ruin shall end:
The girdle seek.”

“Alas!” said Ulenspiegel: “north, west, and girdle. Ye speak obscurely, ye Spirits.”

And they sang, laughing:

“North, ’tis the Netherland:
Belgium is the west;
Girdle is alliance
Girdle is friendship.”

“Ye are nowise fools, Messieurs the Spirits,” said Ulenspiegel.

And they sang once more, grinning:

“The girdle, poor man
Between Netherlands and Belgium
Will be good friendship
And fair alliance.

“Met raedt
En daedt;
Met doodt
En bloodt.

“Alliance of counsel
And of deeds,
Of death
And blood

“If need were,
Were there no Scheldt,
Poor man, no Scheldt.”