He was now obliged to attend personally to the most minute matters of domestic economy.  The man who been the mate of emperors, who was himself a sovereign, had lived his life long in pomp and luxury, surrounded by countless nobles, pages, men-at-arms, and menials, now calmly accepted the position of an outlaw and an exile.  He cheerfully fulfilled tasks which had formerly devolved upon his grooms and valets.  There was an almost pathetic simplicity in the homely details of an existence which, for the moment, had become so obscure and so desperate.  “Send by the bearer,” he wrote, “the little hackney given me by the Admiral; send also my two pair of trunk hose; one pair is at the tailor’s to be mended, the other, pair you will please order to be taken from the things which I wore lately at Dillenburg.  They lie on the table with my accoutrements.  If the little hackney be not in condition, please send the grey horse with the cropped ears and tail.”

He was always mindful, however, not only of the great cause to which he had devoted himself, but of the wants experienced by individuals who had done him service.  He never forgot his friends.  In the depth of his own misery he remembered favors received from humble persons.  “Send a little cup, worth at least a hundred florins, to Hartmann Wolf,” he wrote to his brother; “you can take as much silver out of the coffer, in which there is still some of my chapel service remaining.”—­“You will observe that Affenstein is wanting a horse,” he wrote on another occasion; “please look him out one, and send it to me with the price.  I will send you the money.  Since he has shown himself so willing in the cause, one ought to do something for him.”

The contest between the Duke and the estates, on the subject of the tenth and twentieth penny had been for a season adjusted.  The two years’ term, however, during which it had been arranged that the tax should be commuted, was to expire in the autumn of 1571.  Early therefore in this year the disputes were renewed with greater acrimony than ever.  The estates felt satisfied that the King was less eager than the Viceroy.  Viglius was satisfied that the power of Alva was upon the wane.  While the King was not likely openly to rebuke his recent measures, it seemed not improbable that the Governor’s reiterated requests to be recalled might be granted.  Fortified by these considerations, the President, who had so long been the supple tool of the tyrant, suddenly assumed the character of a popular tribune.  The wranglings, the contradictions, the vituperations, the threatenings, now became incessant in the council.  The Duke found that he had exulted prematurely, when he announced to the King the triumphant establishment, in perpetuity, of the lucrative tax.  So far from all the estates having given their consent, as he had maintained, and as he had written to Philip, it now appeared that not one of those bodies considered itself bound beyond its quota for the two years.  This