Very soon afterwards a preliminary accord was signed between the King’s government and the Walloon provinces.  The provisions on his Majesty’s part were sufficiently liberal.  The religious question furnishing no obstacle, it was comparatively easy for Philip to appear benignant.  It was stipulated that the provincial privileges should be respected; that a member of the King’s own family, legitimately born, should always be Governor-General, and that the foreign troops should be immediately withdrawn.  The official exchange and ratification of this treaty were delayed till the 4th of the following September, but the news that, the reconciliation had been definitely settled soon spread through the country.  The Catholics were elated, the patriots dismayed.  Orange-the “Prince of Darkness,” as the Walloons of the day were fond of calling him—­still unwilling to despair, reluctant to accept this dismemberment, which he foresaw was to be a perpetual one, of his 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 he 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.