He published a defence of his conduct, and a detailed account of the famous siege.  His apology, at the time, was not considered conclusive, but his narrative remains one of the clearest and most trustworthy sources for the history of these important transactions.  He was never brought to trial, but he discovered, with bitterness, that he had committed a fatal error, and that his political influence had passed away.  He addressed numerous private epistles to eminent persons, indignantly denying the imputations against his character, and demanding an investigation.  Among other letters he observed in one to Count Hohenlo, that he was astonished and grieved to find that all his faithful labours and sufferings in the cause of his fatherland had been forgotten in an hour.  In place of praise and gratitude, he had reaped nothing but censure and calumny; because men ever judged, not by the merits, but by the issue.  That common people should be so unjust, he said, was not to be wondered at, but of men like Hohenlo be had hoped better things.  He asserted that he had saved Antwerp from another “Spanish fury,” and from impending destruction—­a city in which there was not a single regular soldier, and in which his personal authority was so slight that he was unable to count the number of his masters.  If a man had ever performed a service to his country, he claimed to have done so in this capitulation.  Nevertheless, he declared that he was the same Philip Marnix, earnestly devoted to the service of God, the true religion, and the fatherland; although he avowed himself weary of the war, and of this perpetual offering of the Netherland sovereignty to foreign potentates.  He was now going, he said, to his estates in Zeeland; there to turn farmer again; renouncing public affairs, in the administration of which he had experienced so much ingratitude from his countrymen.  Count Maurice and the States of Holland and Zeeland wrote to him, however, in very plain language, describing the public indignation as so strong as to make it unsafe for him to visit the country.

The Netherlands and England—­so soon as they were united in policy—­were, not without reason, indignant with the man who had made such strenuous efforts to prevent that union.  The English were, in truth, deeply offended.  He had systematically opposed their schemes, and to his prejudice against their country, and distrust of their intentions, they attributed the fall of Antwerp.  Envoy Davison, after his return to Holland, on the conclusion of the English treaty, at once expressed his suspicions of the ex-burgomaster, and the great dangers to be apprehended from his presence in the free States.  “Here is some working underhand,” said he to Walsingham, “to draw hither Sainte Aldegonde, under a pretext of his justification, which—­as it has hitherto been denied him—­so is the sequel suspected, if he should obtain it before they were well settled here, betwixt her Majesty and them, considering the manifold presumptions that the subject