If we add to this statement the fact, that it was always proposed to every inquiring soul, as an evidence of regenera- 10 tion, that it should truly and heartily accept all the ways of God thus declared right and lovely, and from the heart submit to Him as the only just and good, it will be seen what materials of tremendous 15 internal conflict and agitation were all the while working in every bosom. Almost all the histories of religious experience of those times relate paroxysms of opposition to God and fierce rebellion, expressed in 20 language which appals the very soul,followed, at length, by mysterious elevations of faith and reactions of confiding love, the result of Divine interposition, which carried the soul far above the 25 region of the intellect, into that of direct spiritual intuition. President Edwards records that he was once in this state of enmity,- that the facts of the divine administration seemed horrible 30 to him, and that this opposition by no course of reasoning, but by an inward and sweet sense,' which came to him once when walking alone in the fields, and looking up into the blue sky, he saw the 35 blending of the Divine majesty with a calm, sweet, and almost infinite meekness. The piety which grew up under such a system was, of necessity, energetic,- it was the uprousing of the whole energy of 40 the human soul, pierced and wrenched and probed from her lowest depths to her topmost heights with every awful lifeforce possible to existence. He whose faith in God came clear through these 45 terrible tests would be sure never to know greater ones. He might certainly challenge earth or heaven, things present or things to come, to swerve him from this grand allegiance. All systems that deal with the infinite are, beside, exposed to danger from small, unsuspected admixtures of human error, which become deadly when carried to such vast results. The smallest speck of earth's dust, in the focus of an infinite lens, appears magnified among heavenly orbs as a frightful monster. the Thus it happened, that, while strong spirits walked, palm-crowned, with victorious hymns, along these sublime paths, feebler and more sensitive ones lay along the track, bleeding away in life-long despair. Fearful to them were the shadows that lay over the cradle and the grave. The mother clasped her babe to her bosom, and looked with shuddering to the awful coming trial of free agency, with its terrible responsibilities and risks; and, as she thought of the infinite chances against her beloved, almost wished it might die in infancy. But when the stroke of death came, and some young, thoughtless head was laid suddenly low, who can say what silent anguish of loving hearts sounded the dread depths of eternity with the awful question, Where? In no other time or place of Christendom have so fearful issues been presented to the mind. Some church interposed its protecting shield; the Christian born and baptized child was supposed in some wise rescued from the curse of the fall, and related to the great redemption, to be a member of Christ's family, and, if ever so sinful still infolded in some vague sphere of hope and protection. Augustine solaced the dread anxieties of trembling love by prayers offered for the dead in times when the Church above and on earth presented itself to the eye of the 50 mourner as a great assembly with one accord lifting interceding hands for the parted soul. But the clear logic and intense individualism of New England deepened the But it is to be conceded, that these systems, so admirably in relation to the energy, earnestness, and acuteness of their authors, when received as absolute truth, and as a basis of actual life, had, or minds 55 problems of the Augustinian faith, while of a certain class, the effect of a slow poison, producing life-habits of morbid action very different from any which ever they swept away all those softening provisions so earnestly clasped to the throbbing heart of that great poet of theology. No rite, no form, no paternal relation, no faith or prayer of church, earthly or heavenly, interposed the slightest shield between the trembling spirit and Eternal Justice. The individual entered eternally 5 alone, as if he had no interceding relation in the universe. This, then was the awful dread which was constantly underlying life. This it was which caused the tolling bell in green hollows and lonely dells to be a sound which shook the soul and searched the heart with fearful questions. Atlantic Monthly, Sept., 1859. JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY (1814-1877) John Lothrop Motley was born near Boston, went to the Round Hill school, Northampton, which was then in charge of Bancroft the historian, entered Harvard College at thirteen, and was graduated four years later. Two years he spent in the German universities of Göttingen and Berlin, then returned at twenty to take up the study of law. Like Longfellow and Lowell, however, he had been called to literature rather than to the law. As a boy he had read eagerly all of Cooper and Sir Walter Scott, and he dreamed of romance. Morton's Hope, 1839, a twovolume historical novel, was the result, and even its failure to win the public,- its deserved failure we realize to-day,- did not keep him from writing another, Merry Mount, which was equally unsuccessful. But it was soon recognized that parts of the novels were written with real power, those parts that dealt with historical incidents, and his friends urged him to devote himself wholly to this variety of work. Accordingly at the age of thirty-six he began what was to be his life work. A subject had taken possession of him: the period of the Spanish wars in the Netherlands, and practically for the rest of his life he lived abroad in the archives of Europe collecting his material and turning it successively into the three great histories that bear his name: The Rise of the Dutch Republic, History of the United Netherlands, and John of Barneveld, the last issued in 1874. Twice he dropped his work at the call of his government in 1861 to be ininister to Austria for five years and again in 1869 to be minister to England. The three works written by Motley are the most substantial products America has added to the literature of history. He was one of the last of the American historians who could be considered as a creator of literature, a stylist, a creator of belle lettres. His early love for fiction and his early attempts at the creation of historical romance explain one side of his work: his vivid, dramatic narrative. He was peculiarly fitted to make minute biographical studies of the great characters of the epoch he covered. Moreover, he has been surpassed by few historians in ability to treat vast and complicated areas of history. He had broadness of vision, accuracy, thoroughness, and impartiality. It is regrettable that he was not spared to write, as he had planned, the complete history, of the thirty-year's war. THE RELIEF OF LEYDEN 1 5 Meantime, the besieged city was at its last gasp. The burghers had beer in a state of uncertainty for many days; being aware that the fleet had set forth for their relief, but knowing full well the thousand obstacles which it had to surmount. They had guessed its progress by the illumination from the blazing villages; they had 10 heard its salvos of artillery, on its arrival at North Aa; but since then, all had been dark and mournful again, hope and fear, in sickening alternation, distracting every breast. They knew that the wind was 15 unfavorable, and at the dawn of each day every eye was turned wistfully to the vanes of the steeples. So long as the easterly breeze prevailed, they felt, as they anxiously stood on towers and housetops, 20 1 By permission of Harper Brothers. Copyright, 1856. that they must look in vain for the welcome ocean. Yet, while thus patiently waiting, they were literally starving; for even the misery endured at Harlem had not reached that depth and intensity of agony to which Leyden was now reduced. Bread, malt-cake, horse-flesh, had entirely disappeared; dogs, cats, rats, and other vermin, were esteemed luxuries. A small number of cows, kept as long as possible, for their milk, still remained; but a few were killed from day to day, and distributed in minute proportions, hardly sufficient to support life among the famishing population. Starving wretches swarmed daily around the shambles where these cattle were slaughtered, contending for any morsel which might fall, and lapping eagerly the blood as it ran along the pavement; while the hides, chopped and boiled, were greedily devoured. Women and children, all day long, were searching gutters and dunghills for morsels of food, which they disputed fiercely with the famishing dogs. The green leaves were stripped from the trees, every living herb was converted into human food, but these expedients could not avert starvation. The daily mortality was frightful infants starved to death on the maternal breasts, which famine had parched and withered: mothers dropped to dead in the streets, with their dead, children in their arms. In many a house ine watchmen, in their rounds, found a whole family of corpses, father, mother, children, side by side, for a disorder called the 15 plague, naturally engendered of hardship and famine, now came, as if in kindness, to abridge the agony of the people. The pestilence stalked at noonday through the city, and the doomed inhabitants fell like 20 grass beneath its scythe. From six thousand to eight thousand human beings sank before this scourge alone, yet the people resolutely held out women and men mutually encouraging each other to resist 25 the entrance of their foreign foe — an evil more horrible than pest or famine. The missives from Valdez, who saw more vividly than the besieged could do, the uncertainty of his own position, now 30 poured daily into the city, the enemy becoming more prodigal of his vows, as he felt that the ocean might yet save the victims from his grasp. The inhabitants, in their ignorance, had gradually aban- 35 doned their hopes of relief, but they spurned the summons to surrender. Leyden was sublime in its despair. A few murmurs were, however, occasionally heard at the steadfastness of the magis- 40 trates, and a dead body was placed at the door of the burgomaster, as a silent witness against his inflexibility. A party of the more faint-hearted even assailed the heroic Adrian Van der Werf with 45 threats and reproaches as he passed through the streets. A crowd had gathered around him, as he reached a triangular place in the center of the town, into which many of the principal streets 50 emptied themselves, and upon one side of which stood the church of Saint Pancras, with its high brick tower surmounted by two pointed turrets, and with two ancient lime trees at its entrance. There stood 55 the burgomaster, a tall, haggard, imposing figure, with dark visage, and a tranquil but commanding eye. He waved his broad-leaved felt hat for silence, and then exclaimed, in language which has been almost literally preserved, 'What would ye, my friends? Why do you murmur 5 that we do not break our vows and surrender the city to the Spaniards? a fate more horrible than the agony which she now endures. I tell you I have made an oath to hold the city, and may God give me strength to keep my oath! I can die but once; whether by your hands, the enemy's, or by the hand of God. My own fate is indifferent to me, not so that of the city intrusted to my care. I know that we shall starve if not soon relieved; but starvation is preferable to the dishonored death which is the only alternative. Your menaces move me not; my life is at your disposal; here is my sword, plunge it into my breast, and divide my flesh among you. Take my body to appease your hunger, but expect no surrender, so long as I remain alive.' The words of the stout burgomaster inspired a new courage in the hearts of those who heard him, and a shout of applause and defiance arose from the famishing but enthusiastic crowd. They left the place, after exchanging new vows of fidelity with their magistrate, and again ascended tower and battlement to watch for the coming fleet. From the ramparts they hurled renewed defiance at the enemy. Ye call us rat-eaters and dog-eaters,' they cried, and it is true. So long, then, as ye hear dog bark or cat mew within the walls, ye may know that the city holds out. And when all has perished but ourselves, be sure that we will each devour our left arms, retaining our right to defend our women, our liberty, and our religion, against the foreign tyrant. Should God, in his wrath, doom us to destruction, and deny us all relief, even then will we maintain ourselves forever against your entrance. When the last hour has come, with our hands we will set fire to the city and perish, men, women, and children together in the flames, rather than suffer our homes to be polluted and our liberties to be crushed.' Such words of defiance, thundered daily from the battlements, sufficiently informed Valdez as to his chance of conquering the city, either by force or fraud, but at the same time, he felt comparatively relieved by the inactivity of Boisot's fleet, which still lay stranded at North Aa. As well,' shouted the Span iards, derisively, to the citizens, as well can the Prince of Orange pluck the stars from the sky as bring the ocean to the walls of Leyden for your relief.' 20 On the 28th of September, a dove flew 5 into the city, bringing a letter from Admiral Boisot. In this despatch, the position of the fleet at North Aa was described in encouraging terms, and the inhabitants were assured that, in a very few days at 10 furthest, the long-expected relief would enter their gates. The letter was read publicly upon the market-place, and the bells were rung for joy. Nevertheless, on the morrow, the vanes pointed to the east, 15 the waters, so far from rising, continued to sink, and Admiral Boisot was almost in despair. He wrote to the Prince, that if the spring-tide, now to be expected, should not, together with a strong and favorable wind, come immediately to their relief, it would be in vain to attempt anything further, and that the expedition would, of necessity, be abandoned. The tempest came to their relief. A violent equinoc- 25 tial gale, on the night of the 1st and 2nd of October, came storming from the northwest, shifting after a few hours full eight points, and then blowing still more violently from the south-west. The 30 waters of the North Sea were piled in vast masses upon the southern coast of Holland, and then dashed furiously landward, the ocean rising over the earth, and sweeping with unrestrained power across 35 the ruined dykes. In the course of twenty-four hours, the fleet at North Aa, instead of nine inches, had more than two feet of water. No time was lost. The Kirk-way, which 40 had been broken through according to the Prince's instructions, was now completely overflowed, and the fleet sailed at midnight, in the midst of the storm and darkness. A few sentinel vessels of the enemy 45 challenged them as they steadily rowed towards Zoeterwoude. The answer was a flash from Boisot's cannon, lighting up the black waste of waters. There was a fierce naval midnight battle; a strange spectacle 50 among the branches of those quiet orchards, and with the chimney stacks of half-submerged farm houses rising around the contending vessels. The neighboring village of Zoeterwoude shook with the dis- 55 charges of the Zealander's cannon, and the Spaniards assembled in that fortress knew that the rebel Admiral was at last afloat and on his course. The enemy's vessels were soon sunk, their crews hurled into the waves. On went the fleet, sweeping over the broad waters which lay between Zoeterwoude and Zwieten. As they approached some shallows, which led into the great mere, the Zealanders dashed into the sea, and with sheer strength shouldered every vessel through. Two obstacles lay still in their path the forts of Zoeterwoude and Lammen, distant from the city five hundred and two hundred and fifty yards respectively. Strong redoubts, both well supplied with troops and artillery, they were likely to give a rough reception to the light flotilla, but the panic, which had hitherto driven their foes be fore the advancing patriots, had reached Zoeterwoude. Hardly was the fleet in sight when the Spaniards, in the early morning, poured out from the fortress, and fled precipitately to the left, along a road which led in a westerly direction towards the Hague. Their narrow path was rapidly vanishing in the waves, and hundreds sank beneath the constantly deepening and treacherous flood. The wild Zealanders, too, sprang from their vessels upon the crumbling dyke and drove their retreating foes into the sea. They hurled their harpoons at them, with an accuracy acquired in many a polar chase; they plunged into the waves in the keen pursuit, attacking them with boat-hook and dagger. The numbers who thus fell beneath these corsairs, who neither gave nor took quarter, were never counted, but probably not less than a thousand perished. The rest effected their escape to the Hague. The first fortress was thus seized, dis mantled, set on fire, and passed, and a few strokes of the oars brought the whole fleet close to Lammen. This last obstacle rose formidable and frowning directly across their path. Swarming as it was with soldiers, and bristling with artillery, it seemed to defy the armada either to carry it by storm or to pass under its guns into the city. It appeared that the enterprise was, after all, to founder within sight of the long expecting and expected haven. Boisot anchored his fleet within a respectful distance, and spent what remained of the day in carefully reconnoitering the fort, which seemed only too strong. In conjunction with Leyderdorp, the headquarters of Valdez, a mile and a half dis |