Letters were accordingly written, in the name of the Regent, to the King.  It was stated that the measure could no longer be delayed, that the provinces all agreed in this point, that so long as the foreigners remained not a stiver should be paid into the treasury; that if they had once set sail, the necessary amount for their arrears would be furnished to the government; but that if they should return it was probable that they would be resisted by the inhabitants with main force, and that they would only be allowed to enter the cities through a breach in their wall.  It was urged, moreover, that three or four thousand Spaniards would not be sufficient to coerce all the provinces, and that there was not money enough in the royal exchequer to pay the wages of a single company of the troops.  “It cuts me to the heart,” wrote the Bishop to Philip, “to see the Spanish infantry leave us; but go they must.  Would to God that we could devise any pretext, as your Majesty desires, under which to keep them here!  We have tried all means humanly possible for retaining them, but I see no way to do it without putting the provinces in manifest danger of sudden revolt.”

Fortunately for the dignity of the government, or for the repose of the country, a respectable motive was found for employing the legion elsewhere.  The important loss which Spain had recently met with in the capture of Zerby made a reinforcement necessary in the army engaged in the Southern service.  Thus, the disaster in Barbary at last relieved the Netherlands of the pest which had afflicted them so long.  For a brief breathing space the country was cleared of foreign mercenaries.

The growing unpopularity of the royal government, still typified, however, in the increasing hatred entertained for the Bishop, was not materially diminished by the departure of the Spaniards.  The edicts and the bishoprics were still there, even if the soldiers were gone.  The churchman worked faithfully to accomplish his master’s business.  Philip, on his side, was industrious to bring about the consummation of his measures.  Ever occupied with details, the monarch, from his palace in Spain, sent frequent informations against the humblest individuals in the Netherlands.  It is curious to observe the minute reticulations of tyranny which he had begun already to spin about a whole, people, while cold, venomous, and patient he watched his victims from the centre of his web.  He forwarded particular details to the Duchess and Cardinal concerning a variety of men and women, sending their names, ages, personal appearance, occupations, and residence, together with directions for their immediate immolation.  Even the inquisitors of Seville were set to work to increase, by means of their branches or agencies in the provinces, the royal information on this all-important subject.  “There are but few of us left in the world,” he moralized in a letter to the Bishop, “who care for religion.  ’Tis necessary, therefore, for us to take the greater heed for Christianity.  We must lose our all, if need be, in order to do our duty; in fine,” added he, with his usual tautology, “it is right that a man should do his duty.”