beloved country, addressed the most passionate and solemn adjurations to the Walloon provinces, and to their military chieftains.  He offered all his children as hostages for his good faith in keeping sacredly any covenant which his Catholic countrymen might be willing to close with him.  It was in vain.  The step was irretrievably taken; religious bigotry, patrician jealousy, and wholesale bribery, had severed the Netherlands in twain for ever.  The friends of Romanism, the enemies of civil and religious liberty, exulted from one end of Christendom to the other, and it was recognized that Parma had, indeed, achieved a victory which although bloodless, was as important to the cause of absolutism as any which even his sword was likely to achieve.

The joy of the Catholic party in Paris manifested itself in a variety of ways.  At the principal theatre an uncouth pantomime was exhibited, in which his Catholic Majesty was introduced upon the stage, leading by a halter a sleek cow, typifying the Netherlands.  The animal by a sudden effort, broke the cord, and capered wildly about.  Alexander of Parma hastened to fasten the fragments together, while sundry personages, representing the states-general, seized her by the horns, some leaping upon her back, others calling upon the bystanders to assist in holding the restive beast.  The Emperor, the King of France, and the Queen of England—­which last personage was observed now to smile upon one party, now to affect deep sympathy with the other—­remained stationary; but the Duke of Alencon rushed upon the stage, and caught the cow by the tail.  The Prince of Orange and Hans Casimir then appeared with a bucket, and set themselves busily to milk her, when Alexander again seized the halter.  The cow gave a plunge, upset the pail, prostrated Casimir with one kick and Orange with another, and then followed Parma with docility as be led her back to Philip.  This seems not very “admirable fooling,” but it was highly relished by the polite Parisians of the sixteenth century, and has been thought worthy of record by classical historians.

The Walloon accord was an auspicious prelude, in the eyes of the friends of absolutism, to the negotiations which were opened in the month of May, at Cologne.  Before sketching, as rapidly as possible, those celebrated but barren conferences, it is necessary, for the sake of unity in the narrative, to cast a glance at certain synchronical events in different parts of the Netherlands.

The success attained by the Catholic party in the Walloon negotiations had caused a corresponding bitterness in the hearts of the Reformers throughout the country.  As usual, bitterness had begot bitterness; intolerance engendered intolerance.  On the 28th of May, 1579, as the Catholics of Antwerp were celebrating the Ommegang—­the same festival which had been the exciting cause of the memorable tumults of the year sixty-five—­the irritation of the populace could not be repressed.