Nothing could be more helpless and more characteristic than the letter which Philip sent, thus pushed for a decision.  “You wrote me,” said he, “that you had hopes that this matter of the Prince’s marriage would go no further, and seeing that you did not write oftener on the subject, I thought certainly that it had been terminated.  This pleased me not a little, because it was the best thing that could be done.  Likewise,” continued the most tautological of monarchs, “I was much pleased that it should be done.  Nevertheless;” he added, “if the marriage is to be proceeded with, I really don’t know what to say about it, except to refer it to my sister, inasmuch as a person being upon the spot can see better what can be done with regard to it; whether it be possible to prevent it, or whether it be best, if there be no remedy, to give permission.  But if there be a remedy, it would be better to take it, because,” concluded the King, pathetically, “I don’t see how the Prince could think of marrying with the daughter of the man who did to his majesty, now in glory, that which Duke Maurice did.”

Armed with this luminous epistle, which, if it meant any thing, meant a reluctant affirmation to the demand of the Prince for the royal consent, the Regent and Granvelle proceeded to summon William of Orange, and to catechise him in a manner most galling to the pride, and with a latitude not at all justified by any reasonable interpretation of the royal instructions.  They even informed him that his Majesty had assembled “certain persons learned in cases of conscience, and versed in theology,” according to whose advice a final decision, not yet possible, would be given at some future period.  This assembly of learned conscience-keepers and theologians had no existence save in the imaginations of Granvelle and Margaret.  The King’s letter, blind and blundering as it was, gave the Duchess the right to decide in the affirmative on her own responsibility; yet fictions like these formed a part of the “dissimulation,” which was accounted profound statesmanship by the disciples of Machiavelli.  The Prince, however irritated, maintained his steadiness; assured the Regent that the negotiation had advanced too far to be abandoned, and repeated his assurance that the future Princess of Orange was to “live as a Catholic.”

In December, 1560, William made a visit to Dresden, where he was received by the Elector with great cordiality.  This visit was conclusive as to the marriage.  The appearance and accomplishments of the distinguished suitor made a profound impression upon the lady.  Her heart was carried by storm.  Finding, or fancying herself very desperately enamored of the proposed bridegroom, she soon manifested as much eagerness for the marriage as did her uncle, and expressed herself frequently with the violence which belonged to her character.  “What God had decreed,” she said, “the Devil should not hinder.”

The Prince was said to have exhibited much diligence in his attention to the services of the Protestant Church during his visit at Dreaden.  As that visit lasted, however, but ten or eleven days, there was no great opportunity for shewing much zeal.