could be more pitiable than to behold an innocent people setting forth upon such a journey.  “In truth,” said he, bitterly, in his memorable letter to his sister the Empress, “they are willing to recognize neither God nor king.  They pretend to liberty in all things:  so that ’tis a great pity to see how they are going on; to see the impudence and disrespect with which they repay his Majesty for the favors which he has shown them, and me for the labors, indignities, and dangers which I have undergone for their sakes.”

Nothing, indeed, in the Governor’s opinion, could surpass the insolence of the Netherlanders, save their ingratitude.  That was the serpent’s tooth which was ever wounding the clement King and his indignant brother.  It seemed so bitter to meet with thanklessness, after seven years of Alva and three of Requesens; after the labors of the Blood Council, the massacres of Naarden, Zutphen, and Harlem, the siege of Leyden, and the Fury of Antwerp.  “Little profit there has been,” said the Governor to his sister, “or is like to be from all the good which we have done to these bad people.  In short, they love and obey in all things the most perverse and heretic tyrant and rebel in the whole world, which is this damned Prince of Orange, while, on the contrary, without fear of God or shame before men, they abhor and dishonor the name and commandments of their natural sovereign.”  Therefore, with a doubting spirit, and almost with a broken heart, had the warrior shut himself up in Namur Castle, to await the progress of events, and to escape from the snares of his enemies.  “God knows how much I desire to avoid extremities,” said he, “but I know not what to do with men who show themselves so obstinately rebellious.”

Thus pathetically Don John bewailed his fate.  The nation had turned from God, from Philip, from himself; yet he still sat in his castle, determined to save them from destruction and his own hands from bloodshed, if such an issue were yet possible.  Nor was he entirely deserted, for among the faithless a few were faithful still.  Although the people were in open revolt, there was still a handful of nobles resolved to do their duty towards their God and King.  “This little band,” said the Governor, “has accompanied me hither, like gentlemen and chevaliers of honor.”  Brave Berlaymont and his four sons were loyal to the last, but others of this limited number of gentlemen and chevaliers of honor were already deserting him.  As soon as the result of the enterprise against Antwerp citadel was known, and the storm was gathering most darkly over the royal cause, Aerschot and Havre were first to spread their wings and flutter away in search of a more congenial atmosphere.  In September, the Duke was again as he had always professed himself to be, with some important interval of exception—­“the affectionate brother and cordial friend of the Prince of Orange.”