was himself approaching the decline of life.  Twelve years he had spent in perpetual anxiety and labor for the cause.  As he approached old age, he had sufficient reason to desire repose.  Nevertheless, considering the great multitude of people who were leaning upon him, he should account himself disgraced if, for the sake of his own private advantage, he were to recommend a peace which was not perfectly secure.  As regarded his own personal interests, he could easily place himself beyond danger—­yet it would be otherwise with the people.  The existence of the religion which, through the mercy of God he professed, would be sacrificed, and countless multitudes of innocent men would, by his act, be thrown bodily into the hands of the blood-thirsty inquisitors who, in times past, had murdered so many persons, and so utterly desolated the land.  In regard to the ceaseless insinuations against his character which men uttered “over their tables and in the streets,” he observed philosophically, that “mankind were naturally inclined to calumny, particularly against those who exercised government over them.  His life was the best answer to those slanders.  Being overwhelmed with debt, he should doubtless do better in a personal point of view to accept the excellent and profitable offers which were daily made to him by the enemy.”  He might be justified in such a course, when it was remembered how many had deserted him and forsworn their religion.  Nevertheless, he had ever refused, and should ever refuse to listen to offers by which only his own personal interests were secured.  As to the defence of the country, he had thus far done all in his power, with the small resources placed at his command.  He was urged by the “nearer-united states” to retain the poet of Lieutenant-General.  He was ready to consent.  He was, however, not willing to hold office a moment, unless he had power to compel cities to accept garrisons, to enforce the collection of needful supplies throughout the provinces, and in general to do everything which he judged necessary for the best interests of the country.

Three councils were now established—­one to be in attendance upon the Archduke and the Prince of Orange, the two others to reside respectively in Flanders and in Utrecht.  They were to be appointed by Matthias and the Prince, upon a double nomination from the estates of the united provinces.  Their decisions were to be made according to a majority of votes,—­and there was to be no secret cabinet behind and above their deliberations.  It was long, however, before these councils were put into working order.  The fatal jealousy of the provincial authorities, the, small ambition of local magistrates, interposed daily obstacles to the vigorous march of the generality.  Never was jealousy more mischievous, never circumspection more misapplied.  It was not a land nor a crisis in which there was peril of centralization:  Local municipal government was in truth the only force left.  There was no possibility