tion to the other
cares that weighed heavily upon him, there was the continual dread of
assassination. Ever since the failure of the attempt of Jaureguy, there
had been a constant succession of plots against the life of the rebel
leader and heretic at the instigation of the Spanish government, and
with the knowledge of Parma. Religious fanaticism, loyalty to the
legitimate sovereign, together with the more sordid motive of pecuniary
reward, made many eager to undertake the murderous commission. It was
made the easier from the fact that the prince always refused to
surround himself with guards or to take any special precautions, and was
always easy of access. Many schemes and proposed attempts came to
nothing either through the vigilance of William's spies or through the
lack of courage of the would-be assassins. A youth named Balthazar
Gerard had however become obsessed with the conviction that he had a
special mission to accomplish the deed in which Jaureguy had failed, and
he devoted himself to the task of ridding the world of one whom he
looked upon as the arch-enemy of God and the king. Under the false name
of Francis Guyon he made his way to Delft, pretended to be a zealous
Calvinist flying from persecution, and went about begging for alms. The
prince, even in his poverty always charitable, hearing of his needy
condition sent to the man a present of twelve crowns. With this gift
Gerard bought a pair of pistols and on July 10, 1584, having managed on
some pretext to gain admittance to the Prinsenhof, he concealed himself
in a dark corner by the stairs just opposite the door of the room where
William and his family were dining. As the prince, accompanied by his
wife, three of his daughters and one of his sisters, came out and was
approaching the staircase, the assassin darted forward and fired two
bullets into his breast. The wound was mortal; William fell to the
ground and speedily expired. Tradition says that, as he fell, he
exclaimed in French: "My God, have pity on my soul! My God, have pity on
this poor people!" But an examination of contemporary records of the
murder throws considerable doubt on the statement that such words were
uttered. The nature of the wound was such that the probability is that
intelligible speech was impossible.

Balthazar Gerard gloried in his deed, and bore the excruciating tortures
which were inflicted upon him with almost superhuman patience and
courage. He looked upon himself as a ma