It had been industriously circulated that a change of policy was intended.  It was even supposed by the more sanguine that the Duke had retired in disgrace.  A show of coldness was manifested towards him on his return by the King, while Vargas, who had accompanied the Governor, was peremptorily forbidden to appear within five leagues of the court.  The more discerning, however, perceived much affectation in this apparent displeasure.  Saint Goard, the keen observer of Philip’s moods and measures, wrote to his sovereign that he had narrowly observed the countenances of both Philip and Alva; that he had informed himself as thoroughly as possible with regard to the course of policy intended; that he had arrived at the conclusion that the royal chagrin was but dissimulation, intended to dispose the Netherlanders to thoughts of an impossible peace, and that he considered the present merely a breathing time, in which still more active preparations might be made for crushing the rebellion.  It was now evident to the world that the revolt had reached a stage in which it could be terminated only by absolute conquest or concession.

To conquer the people of the provinces, except by extermination, seemed difficult—­to judge by the seven years of execution, sieges and campaigns, which had now passed without a definite result.  It was, therefore, thought expedient to employ concession.  The new Governor accordingly, in case the Netherlanders would abandon every object for which they had been so heroically contending, was empowered to concede a pardon.  It was expressly enjoined upon him, however, that no conciliatory measures should be adopted in which the King’s absolute supremacy, and the total prohibition of every form of worship but the Roman Catholic, were not assumed as a basis.  Now, as the people had been contending at least ten years long for constitutional rights against prerogative, and at least seven for liberty of conscience against papistry, it was easy to foretell how much effect any negotiations thus commenced were likely to produce.

Yet, no doubt, in the Netherlands there was a most earnest longing for peace.  The Catholic portion of the population were desirous of a reconciliation with their brethren of the new religion.  The universal vengeance which had descended upon heresy had not struck the heretics only.  It was difficult to find a fireside, Protestant or Catholic, which had not been made desolate by execution, banishment, or confiscation.  The common people and the grand seigniors were alike weary of the war.  Not only Aerschot and Viglius, but Noircarmes and Berlaymont, were desirous that peace should be at last compassed upon liberal terms, and the Prince of Orange fully and unconditionally pardoned.  Even the Spanish commanders had become disgusted with the monotonous butchery which had stained their swords.  Julian Romero; the fierce and unscrupulous soldier upon whose head rested the guilt of the Naarden massacre, addressed