hands, and was frantic to see his adversary tranquilly winning the game.  It was almost melancholy to observe the gradation of his tone from haughty indignation to dismal concession.  In an elaborate letter which he addressed “to the particular states, bishops, councillors, and cities of the Netherlands,” he protested as to the innocence of his intentions, and complained bitterly of the calumnies circulated to his discredit by the Prince of Orange.  He denied any intention of recalling the troops which he had dismissed, except in case of absolute necessity:  He affirmed that his Majesty sincerely desired peace.  He averred that the country was either against the King, against the Catholic religion, against himself, or against all three together.  He bitterly asked what further concessions were required.  Had he not done all he had ever promised?  Had he not discharged the Spaniards, placed the castles in the hands of natives, restored the privileges, submitted to insults and indecencies?  Yet, in spite of all which had passed, he declared his readiness to resign, if another prince or princess of the blood more acceptable to them could be appointed.  The letter to the states was followed by a proposition for a cessation of hostilities, and for the appointment of a commission to devise means for faithfully executing the Ghent treaty.  This proposition was renewed, a few days later, together with an offer for an exchange of hostages.

It was not difficult for the estates to answer the letters of the Governor.  Indeed, there was but little lack of argument on either side throughout this unhappy controversy.  It is dismal to contemplate the interminable exchange of protocols, declarations, demands, apostilles, replications and rejoinders, which made up the substance of Don John’s administration.  Never was chivalrous crusader so out of place.  It was not a soldier that was then required for Philip’s exigency, but a scribe.  Instead of the famous sword of Lepanto, the “barbarous pen” of Hopperus had been much more suitable for the work required.  Scribbling Joachim in a war-galley, yard-arm and yard-arm with the Turkish capitan pacha, could have hardly felt less at ease than did the brilliant warrior thus condemned to scrawl and dissemble.  While marching from concession to concession, he found the states conceiving daily more distrust, and making daily deeper encroachments.  Moreover, his deeds up to the time when he seemed desirous to retrace his steps had certainly been, at the least, equivocal.  Therefore, it was natural for the estates, in reply to the questions in his letter, to observe that he had indeed dismissed the Spaniards, but that he had tampered with and retained the Germans; that he had indeed placed the citadels in the hands of natives, but that he had tried his best to wrest them away again; that he had indeed professed anxiety for peace, but that his intercepted letters proved his preparations for war.  Already there were