almost total wreck, of my earthly fortunes, if not the prize, of having acquired, perhaps at the expense of my life, your liberty?—­If then, my masters, if you judge that my absence or my death can serve you, behold me ready to obey.  Command me —­send me to the ends of the earth—­I will obey.  Here is my head, over which no prince, no monarch, has power but yourselves.  Dispose of it for your good, for the preservation of your Republic, but if you judge that the moderate amount of experience and industry which is in me, if you judge that the remainder of my property and of my life can yet be of service to you, I dedicate them afresh to you and to the country.”

His motto—­most appropriate to his life and character—­“Je maintiendrai,” was the concluding phrase of the document.  His arms and signature were also formally appended, and the Apology, translated into most modern languages, was sent, to nearly every potentate in Christendom.  It had been previously, on the 13th of December, 1580, read before the assembly of the united states at Delft, and approved as cordially as the ban was indignantly denounced.

During the remainder of the year 1580, and the half of the following year, the seat of hostilities was mainly in the northeast-Parma, while waiting the arrival of fresh troops, being inactive.  The operations, like the armies and the generals, were petty.  Hohenlo was opposed to Renneberg.  After a few insignificant victories, the latter laid siege to Steenwyk, a city in itself of no great importance, but the key to the province of Drenthe.  The garrison consisted of six hundred soldiers, and half as many trained burghers.  Renneberg, having six thousand foot and twelve hundred horse, summoned the place to surrender, but was answered with defiance.  Captain Cornput, who had escaped from Groningen, after unsuccessfully warning the citizens of Renneberg’s meditated treason, commanded in Steenwyk, and his courage and cheerfulness sustained the population of the city during a close winter siege.  Tumultuous mobs in the streets demanding that the place should be given over ere it was too late, he denounced to their faces as “flocks of gabbling geese,” unworthy the attention of brave men.  To a butcher who, with the instinct of his craft, begged to be informed what the population were to eat when the meat was all gone, he coolly observed, “We will eat you, villain, first of all, when the time comes; so go home and rest assured that you, at least, are not to die of starvation.”

With such rough but cheerful admonitions did the honest soldier, at the head of his little handful, sustain the courage of the beleaguered city.  Meantime Renneberg pressed it hard.  He bombarded it with red-hot balls, a new invention introduced five years before by Stephen Bathor, King of Poland, at the siege of Dantzig.  Many houses were consumed, but still Cornput and the citizens held firm.  As the winter advanced, and the succor which had been promised still