Don John was not sorry in his heart that the crisis was at last come.
His chain was broken. His wrath exploded in his first interview with
Leyton, the English envoy, whom Queen Elizabeth had despatched to calm,
if possible, his inevitable anger at her recent treaty with the states.
He knew nothing of England, he said, nor of France, nor of the Emperor.
His Catholic Majesty had commissioned him now to make war upon these
rebellious provinces. He would do it with all his heart. As for the
Emperor, he would unchain the Turks upon him for his perfidy. As for the
burghers of Brussels, they would soon feel his vengeance.

It was very obvious that these were not idle threats. War had again
broken loose throughout these doomed provinces. A small but well-
appointed army had been rapidly collecting under the banner of Don John
at Luxemburg, Peter Ernest Mansfeld had brought many well-trained troops
from France, and Prince Alexander of Parma had arrived with several
choice and veteran regiments of Italy and Spain. The old schoolfellow,
playmate and comrade of Don John, was shocked-on his arrival, to witness
the attenuated frame and care-worn features of his uncle. The son of
Charles the Fifth, the hero of Lepanto, seemed even to have lost the air
of majesty which was so natural to him, for petty insults, perpetual
crosses, seemed to have left their squalid traces upon his features.
Nevertheless, the crusader was alive again, at the notes of warlike
preparations which now resounded throughout the land.

On the 25th of January he issued a proclamation, couched in three
languages--French, German, and Flemish. He declared in this document
that he had not come to enslave the provinces, but to protect them. At
the same time he meant to re-establish his Majesty's authority, and the
down-trod religion of Rome. He summoned all citizens and all soldiers
throughout the provinces to join his banners, offering them pardon for