While this additional machine for the self-government of the provinces was in the course of creation; the Spanish monarch, on the other hand, had made another effort to recover the authority which he felt slipping from his grasp.  Philip was in Portugal, preparing for his coronation in, that, new kingdom—­an event to be nearly contemporaneous with his deposition from the Netherland sovereignty, so solemnly conferred upon him a quarter of a century before in Brussels; but although thus distant, he was confident that he could more wisely govern the Netherlands than the inhabitants could do, and unwilling as ever to confide in the abilities of those to whom he had delegated his authority.  Provided; as he unquestionably was at that moment, with a more energetic representative than any who had before exercised the functions of royal governor in the provinces, he was still disposed to harass, to doubt, and to interfere.  With the additional cares of the Portuguese Conquest upon his hands, he felt as irresistibly impelled as ever to superintend the minute details of provincial administration.  To do this was impossible.  It was, however, not impossible, by attempting to do it, to produce much mischief.  “It gives me pain,” wrote Granvelle, “to see his Majesty working as before—­choosing to understand everything and to do everything.  By this course, as I have often said before, he really accomplishes much less.”  The King had, moreover, recently committed the profound error of sending the Duchess Margaret of Parma to the Netherlands again.  He had the fatuity to believe her memory so tenderly cherished in the provinces as to ensure a burst of loyalty at her reappearance, while the irritation which he thus created in the breast of her son he affected to disregard.  The event was what might have been foreseen.  The Netherlanders were very moderately excited by the arrival of their former regent, but the Prince of Parma was furious.  His mother actually arrived at Namur in the month of August, 1580, to assume the civil administration of the provinces,—­and he was himself, according to the King’s request, to continue in the command of the army.  Any one who had known human nature at all, would have recognized that Alexander Farnese was not the man to be put into leading strings.  A sovereign who was possessed of any administrative sagacity, would have seen the absurdity of taking the reins of government at that crisis from the hands of a most determined and energetic man, to confide them to the keeping of a woman.  A king who was willing to reflect upon the consequences of his own acts, must have foreseen the scandal likely to result from an open quarrel for precedence between such a mother and son.  Margaret of Parma was instantly informed, however, by Alexander, that a divided authority like that proposed was entirely out of the question.  Both offered to resign; but Alexander was unflinching in his determination to retain all the power or none.