It is not without reluctance, but still with a stern determination, that the historian—­should faithfully record these transactions.  To extenuate would be base; to exaggerate impossible.  It is good that the world should not forget how much wrong has been endured by a single harmless nation at the hands of despotism, and in the sacred name of God.  There have been tongues and pens enough to narrate the excesses of the people, bursting from time to time out of slavery into madness.  It is good, too, that those crimes should be remembered, and freshly pondered; but it is equally wholesome to study the opposite picture.  Tyranny, ever young and ever old, constantly reproducing herself with the same stony features, with the same imposing mask which she has worn through all the ages, can never be too minutely examined, especially when she paints her own portrait, and when the secret history of her guilt is furnished by the confessions of her lovers.  The perusal of her traits will not make us love popular liberty the less.

The history of Alva’s administration in the Netherlands is one of those pictures which strike us almost dumb with wonder.  Why has the Almighty suffered such crimes to be perpetrated in His sacred name?  Was it necessary that many generations should wade through this blood in order to acquire for their descendants the blessings of civil and religious freedom?  Was it necessary that an Alva should ravage a peaceful nation with sword and flame—­that desolation should be spread over a happy land, in order that the pure and heroic character of a William of Orange should stand forth more conspicuously, like an antique statue of spotless marble against a stormy sky?

After the army which the Prince had so unsuccessfully led to the relief of Mons had been disbanded, he had himself repaired to Holland.  He had come to Kampen shortly before its defection from his cause.  Thence he had been escorted across the Zuyder Zee to Eukhuyzen.  He came to that province, the only one which through good and ill report remained entirely faithful to him, not as a conqueror but as an unsuccessful, proscribed man.  But there were warm hearts beating within those cold lagunes, and no conqueror returning from a brilliant series of victories could have been received with more affectionate respect than William in that darkest hour of the country’s history.  He had but seventy horsemen at his back, all which remained of the twenty thousand troops which he had a second time levied in Germany, and he felt that it would be at that period hopeless for him to attempt the formation of a third army.  He had now come thither to share the fate of Holland, at least, if he could not accomplish her liberation.  He went from city to city, advising with the magistracies and with the inhabitants, and arranging many matters pertaining both to peace and war.  At Harlem the States of the Provinces, according to his request, had been assembled.  The assembly begged him