A TALE OF A DUTCH HERO

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jan 8, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 10.

A TALE OF A DUTCH HERO.

In the days when Charles IX. was king of France, when Philip II. reigned over Spain, and our land [England] was governed by good Queen Bess, the people of Holland and the Netherlands were called upon to endure the most fiery persecution the world ever witnessed.

For many generations the Dutch had enjoyed more liberty than was usual at that stage of the world's history. Their cities possessed charters and privileges of which they were justly proud, and to which they owed their prosperity. As a natural consequence education advanced, and the people were accustomed to freedom of thought and argument.

In this good soil the seed of the Reformation took deep root. Nowhere did the doctrines of Luther spread so rapidly, nor bring forth so rich a harvest.

Then came persecution. The cruel and bigoted king of Spain, believing himself to be ordained of God to sweep heresy from the face of the earth, let loose upon the smiling provinces all the terrors of the Spanish Inquisition.

Already they had suffered much for the cause of religion. During the reign of Charles V. many thousands laid down their lives for the truth, but Philip II. exceeded his father both in cruelty and tenacity of purpose. Henceforth no man's life was safe. Liberty was crushed and a dark cloud of oppression settled over the land. Men and women were tortured, drowned, strangled, burnt alive, or buried alive, for no other crime than reading the Bible, praying with their children, and teaching them to look to Jesus as their only Saviour.

It would shock you too much were I to tell you a tithe of what these poor Christians endured at the hands of their fellow Christians. Saddest of all human delusions when religion is used as a mask for tyranny! Happy are we who have the privilege of serving God according to the dictates of reason and conscience.

In Holland cruelty and injustice produced their natural result; the people rose up against their oppressors, and an army was sent by Philip to reduce them to obedience. Thus the misery of war added to the terrors of the Inquisition.

The Dutch was a commercial rather than a warlike people. Stern necessity obliged them to fight for their homes and for their wives and little ones; but at first the well-disciplined Spanish troops had them at a terrible disadvantage.

In one way, however, they were superior to their foes. They were as much at home on water as on land; and in winter they could skim about upon the frozen seas and lakes, to the great confusion of their enemies. When the battle was fought upon water or upon ice, it was the Dutchman's turn to win.

But the Spaniards were persevering as well as brave. They soon bought skates and learned to use them, though not so skillfully as those who had been accustomed to them from childhood.

Dirk Willemzoon was one of those who suffered for conscience' sake. Although he was innocent of any offense beyond the reading of his Bible and attending religious meetings, he was taken prisoner, tried, and condemned to death.

Dirk felt it hard to submit to this cruel injustice. He was young, and life was sweet—even life such as it then was in Holland. He set his wits to work out a plan of escape. His plan succeeded. Once more he was free—free, but not safe. He must still hide from his enemies. In this, alas! he was not so fortunate; his retreat was discovered by a Spanish soldier, and he was pursued across the open country. At no great distance was a lake, now a broad sheet of frozen water. Here was a chance for Dirk. He knew that upon ice he could soon outstrip his pursuer.

He was right. The Spaniard was a bold runner, but upon that slippery surface he was no match for the young Dutchman. Moreover, at this season the lake was not to be traversed without danger. Winter was nearly over; already there had been mild spring days, and the ice was unsafe. It trembled and shook beneath the flying footsteps of the hunter and his prey.

Dirk was no stranger to the lake. He knew what parts to avoid. The soldier lacked this useful bit of knowledge. Suddenly there was a loud crack, a cry, a splash. The fugitive turned to look, and, behold! his enemy was gone. A large hole in the ice, surrounded by many a deep crack—that was all that was now visible. But as he looked, the head of the drowning man reappeared above the water. He stretched out his hands and grasped the edge of the ice, which bent beneath his weight. Dirk saw that he could not get out unaided. He was caught as securely as any rat in a trap. In a few minutes he must sink.

Dirk was safe now. Intense gratitude for his escape filled his heart to overflowing. "The Lord hath delivered me," he cried; "it is not my work. Truly God hath fought for me; he hath overthrown my enemy like the Egyptians in the Red Sea."

But this thought was rapidly succeeded by another: "I say unto you, Love your enemies; do good to them that despitefully use you and persecute you." Would he not be disobeying his Saviour's command if he left this man to perish? It was a terrible moment for poor Dirk. He covered his face and fell upon his knees. A fierce battle raged within his soul, the powers of good and evil striving for mastery. God gives us all grace to fight such battles on our knees.

It was soon over. The Spaniard was presently amazed to see the young Dutchman returning across the ice, but the sight brought him no comfort. "He comes to slay me with his dagger," thought he. "Well, 'tis more a soldier's death than drowning like a kitten in a tub." So he resigned himself to his fate with the stoicism of one who has faced death too often to fear it. To his astonishment, however, the young man showed no desire to kill him, but seemed, on the contrary, anxious to save him. He advanced cautiously along the quivering ice, then lay down, and, creeping toward the hole, stretched forth his hands and drew the soldier out of the water.

There is but one way in which such a story should end. If the Spaniard had no reward to offer, he must at least grant freedom to the man who had risked his life to save him. But, alas! this tale has a far darker sequel. Whatever his feelings may have been while in the ice hole, the soldier was no sooner safe on dry land than the instinct of the bird of prey revived. The man was in his power yet—the man he had followed through so many dangers. Should he let him go, and so lose the reward of his valor?—No! The young Dutchman was his lawful captive, and back to prison he must go.

Motley, from whose pages we have drawn this sketch, tells us that the Spaniard was subsequently stricken by remorse and would have released his prisoner, but was prevented by the burgomaster of Aspern, who bade him remember first his duty to his king.

We are not disposed to give the soldier much credit for this tardy repentance. It was never strong enough to induce him to open his door to his captive.

Dirk's noble action met with no reward in this world. After languishing in prison for some weeks, he was led out into the market-place, tied to a stake, and burned to death. Even then we may be sure that brave Dirk Willemzoon never for a moment regretted his generous self-sacrifice. He had followed his Master, for, like him, he had laid down his life for his enemy; and to him, also, was granted grace to say with that dying Master, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."—The Quiver.