The first step in the proceedings had been a secret one.  If by any means the Prince of Orange could be detached from his party—­if by bribery, however enormous, he could be induced—­to abandon a tottering cause, and depart for the land of his birth—­he was distinctly but indirectly given to understand that he had but to name his terms.  We have seen the issue of similar propositions made by Don John of Austria.  Probably there was no man living who would care to make distinct application of this dishonorable nature to the Father of his country.  The Aerschots, the Meluns, the Lalains, and a swarm of other nobles, had their price, and were easily transferable from one to another, but it was not easy to make a direct offer to William of Orange.  They knew—­as he said shortly afterwards in his famous Apology—­that “neither for property nor for life, neither for wife nor for children, would he mix in his cup a single drop of treason.”  Nevertheless, he was distinctly given to understand that “there was nothing he could demand for himself personally that would not be granted.”  All his confiscated property, restoration of his imprisoned son, liberty of worship for himself, payment of all his debts, reimbursement of all his past expenses, and anything else which he could desire, were all placed within his reach.  If he chose to retire into another land, his son might be placed in possession of all his cities, estates, and dignities, and himself indemnified in Germany; with a million of money over and above as a gratuity.  The imperial envoy, Count Schwartzenburg, pledged his personal honor and reputation that every promise which might be made to the Prince should be most sacredly fulfilled.

It was all in vain.  The indirect applications of the imperial commissioners made to his servants and his nearest relations were entirely unsuccessful.  The Prince was not to be drawn into a negotiation in his own name or for his own benefit.  If the estates were satisfied, he was satisfied.  He wanted no conditions but theirs; “nor would he directly, or indirectly,” he said, “separate himself from the cause on which hung all his evil or felicity.”  He knew that it was the object of the enemy to deprive the country of its head, and no inducements were sufficient to make him a party to the plot.  At the same time, he was unwilling to be an obstacle, in his own person, to the conclusion of an honorable peace.  He would resign his offices which he held at the solicitation of the whole country, if thus a negotiation were likely to be more successful.  “The Prince of Parma and the disunited provinces,” said he to the states-general, “affect to consider this war as one waged against me and in my name—­as if the question alone concerned the name and person of the general.  If it be so, I beg you to consider whether it is not because I have been ever faithful to the land.  Nevertheless, if I am an obstacle, I am ready to remove it.  If you, therefore, in order to deprive the enemy of every right to inculpate us, think proper to choose another head and conductor of your affairs, I promise you to serve and to be obedient to him with all my heart.  Thus shall we leave the enemy no standing-place to work dissensions among us.”  Such was his language to friend and foe, and here, at least, was one man in history whom kings were not rich enough to purchase.