of transmitting a record of their language or demonstrations, to the inmost sanctuary of Philip’s cabinet at Madrid.  The Prince knew, too, that the King was very sincere in his determination to maintain the inquisition, however dilatory his proceedings might appear.  He was well aware that an armed force might be expected ere long to support the royal edicts.  Already the Prince had organized that system of espionage upon Philip, by which the champion of his country was so long able to circumvent its despot.  The King left letters carefully locked in his desk at night, and unseen hands had forwarded copies of them to William of Orange before the morning.  He left memoranda in his pockets on retiring to bed, and exact transcripts of those papers found their way, likewise, ere he rose, to the same watchman in the Netherlands.  No doubt that an inclination for political intrigue was a prominent characteristic of the Prince, and a blemish upon the purity of his moral nature.  Yet the dissimulating policy of his age he had mastered only that he might accomplish the noblest purposes to which a great and good man can devote his life-the protection of the liberty and the religion of a whole people against foreign tyranny.  His intrigue served his country, not a narrow personal ambition, and it was only by such arts that he became Philip’s master, instead of falling at once, like so many great personages, a blind and infatuated victim.  No doubt his purveyors of secret information were often destined fearfully to atone for their contraband commerce, but they who trade in treason must expect to pay the penalty of their traffic.

Although, therefore, the great nobles held themselves aloof from the confederacy, yet many of them gave unequivocal signs of their dissent from the policy adopted by government.  Marquis Berghen wrote to the Duchess; resigning his posts, on the ground of his inability to execute the intention of the King in the matter of religion.  Meghen replied to the same summons by a similar letter.  Egmont assured her that he would have placed his offices in the King’s hands in Spain, could he have foreseen that his Majesty would form such resolutions as had now been proclaimed.  The sentiments of Orange were avowed in the letter to which we have already alluded.  His opinions were shared by Montigny, Culemburg, and many others.  The Duchess was almost reduced to desperation.  The condition of the country was frightful.  The most determined loyalists, such as Berlaymont, Viglius and Hopper, advised her not to mention the name of inquisition in a conference which she was obliged to hold with a deputation from Antwerp.  She feared, all feared, to pronounce the hated word.  She wrote despairing letters to Philip, describing the condition of the land and her own agony in the gloomiest colors.  Since the arrival of the royal orders, she said, things had gone from bad to worse.  The King had been ill advised.  It was useless to tell the people that the inquisition had always existed