Prompt and minute must be my communication, lest rumour outrun my
messenger, and the king suspect that some particulars have been purposely
withheld. I can see no means, severe or mild, by which to stem the evil.
Oh, what are we great ones on the waves of humanity? We think to control
them, and are ourselves driven to and fro, hither and thither.

[Enter Machiavel.

Regent. Are the despatches to the king prepared?

Machiavel. In an hour they will be ready for your signature.

Regent. Have you made the report sufficiently circumstantial?

Machiavel. Full and circumstantial, as the king loves to have it. I relate
how the rage of the iconoclasts first broke out at St. Omer. How a furious
multitude, with staves, hatchets, hammers, ladders, and cords,
accompanied by a few armed men, first assailed the chapels, churches, and
convents, drove out the worshippers, forced the barred gates, threw
everything into confusion, tore down the altars, destroyed the statues of
the saints, defaced the pictures, and dashed to atoms, and trampled under
foot, whatever came in their way that was consecrated and holy. How the
crowd increased as it advanced, and how the inhabitants of Ypres opened
their gates at its approach. How, with incredible rapidity, they demolished
the cathedral, and burned the library of the bishop. How a vast multitude,
possessed by the like frenzy, dispersed themselves through Menin,
Comines, Verviers, Lille, nowhere encountered opposition; and how,
through almost the whole of Flanders, in a single moment, the monstrous
conspiracy declared itself, and was accomplished.