“The joy with which our return was greeted,” he said, “was followed by a general disappointment and sadness, so soon as the result was known.  The want of a religious toleration, as well as the refusal to concede on the other two points, has not a little altered the hearts of all, even of the Catholics.  A citadel and a garrison are considered ruin and desolation to a great commercial city.  I have done what I can to urge the acceptance of such conditions as the Prince is willing to give, and have spoken in general terms of his benign intentions.  The citizens still desire peace.  Had his Highness been willing to take both religions under his protection, he might have won all hearts, and very soon all the other Provinces would have returned to their obedience, while the clemency and magnanimity of his Majesty would thus have been rendered admirable throughout the world.”

The power to form an accurate conception as to the nature of Philip and of other personages with whom he was dealing, and as to the general signs of his times, seems to have been wanting in the character of the gifted Aldegonde.  He had been dazzled by the personal presence of Parma, and he now spoke of Philip II., as if his tyranny over the Netherlands—­which for twenty years had been one horrible and uniform whole—­were the accidental result of circumstances, not the necessary expression of his individual character, and might be easily changed at will—­as if Nero, at a moment’s warning, might transform himself into Trajan.  It is true that the innermost soul of the Spanish king could by no possibility be displayed to any contemporary, as it reveals itself, after three centuries, to those who study the record of his most secret thoughts; but, at any rate, it would seem that his career had been sufficiently consistent, to manifest the amount of “clemency and magnanimity” which he might be expected to exercise.

“Had his Majesty,” wrote Sainte Aldegonde, “been willing, since the year sixty-six, to pursue a course of toleration, the memory of his reign would have been sacred to all posterity, with an immortal praise of sapience, benignity, and sovereign felicity.”

This might be true, but nevertheless a tolerating Philip, in the year 1585, ought to have seemed to Sainte Aldegonde an impossible idea.

“The emperors,” continued the burgomaster, “who immediately succeeded Tiberius were the cause of the wisdom which displayed itself in the good Trajan—­also a Spaniard—­and in Antoninus, Verus, and the rest:  If you think that this city, by the banishment of a certain number of persons, will be content to abandon the profession of the reformed faith, you are much mistaken.  You will see, with time, that the exile of this religion will be accompanied by a depopulation and a sorrowful ruin and desolation of this flourishing city.  But this will be as it pleases God.  Meantime I shall not fail to make all possible exertions to induce the citizens to consent to a reconciliation with his Majesty.  The broad council will soon give their answer, and then we shall send a deputation.  We shall invite Holland and Zeeland to join with us, but there is little hope of their consent.”