On the contrary, they persisted in wasting their perverse affections
upon the pestilent Prince of Orange. That heretic was leading them to
destruction, for he was showing them the road to liberty, and nothing,
in the eyes of the Governor, could be more pitiable than to behold an
innocent people setting forth upon such a journey. "In truth," said he,
bitterly, in his memorable letter to his sister the Empress, "they are
willing to recognize neither God nor king. They pretend to liberty in
all things: so that 'tis a great pity to see how they are going on; to
see the impudence and disrespect with which they repay his Majesty for
the favors which he has shown them, and me for the labors, indignities,
and dangers which I have undergone for their sakes."

Nothing, indeed, in the Governor's opinion, could surpass the insolence
of the Netherlanders, save their ingratitude. That was the serpent's
tooth which was ever wounding the clement King and his indignant brother.
It seemed so bitter to meet with thanklessness, after seven years of Alva
and three of Requesens; after the labors of the Blood Council, the
massacres of Naarden, Zutphen, and Harlem, the siege of Leyden, and the
Fury of Antwerp. "Little profit there has been," said the Governor to
his sister, "or is like to be from all the good which we have done to
these bad people. In short, they love and obey in all things the most
perverse and heretic tyrant and rebel in the whole world, which is this
damned Prince of Orange, while, on the contrary, without fear of God or
shame before men, they abhor and dishonor the name and commandments of
their natural sovereign." Therefore, with a doubting spirit, and almost
with a broken heart, had the warrior shut himself up in Namur Castle,
to await the progress of events, and to escape from the snares of his
enemies. "God knows how much I desire to avoid extremities," said he,
"but I know not what to do with men who show themselves so obstinately
rebellious."