times seemed to possess him for accommodating the quarrel, together
with his absolute incapacity to appreciate his position. The Prince was
triumphant; the Governor in a trap. Moreover, it was a trap which he had
not only entered voluntarily, but which he had set himself; he had played
into the Prince's hands, and was frantic to see his adversary tranquilly
winning the game. It was almost melancholy to observe the gradation of
his tone from haughty indignation to dismal concession. In an elaborate
letter which he addressed "to the particular states, bishops,
councillors, and cities of the Netherlands," he protested as to the
innocence of his intentions, and complained bitterly of the calumnies
circulated to his discredit by the Prince of Orange. He denied any
intention of recalling the troops which he had dismissed, except in case
of absolute necessity: He affirmed that his Majesty sincerely desired
peace. He averred that the country was either against the King, against
the Catholic religion, against himself, or against all three together.
He bitterly asked what further concessions were required. Had he not
done all he had ever promised? Had he not discharged the Spaniards,
placed the castles in the hands of natives, restored the privileges,
submitted to insults and indecencies? Yet, in spite of all which had
passed, he declared his readiness to resign, if another prince or
princess of the blood more acceptable to them could be appointed. The
letter to the states was followed by a proposition for a cessation of
hostilities, and for the appointment of a commission to devise means for
faithfully executing the Ghent treaty. This proposition was renewed, a
few days later, together with an offer for an exchange of hostages.

It was not difficult for the estates to answer the letters of the
Governor. Indeed, there was but little lack of argument on either side
throughout this unhappy controversy. It is dismal to contemplate the
interminable exchange of protocols, declarations, demands, apostilles,