toleration was to them,
the general interests of religion were dearer, and not only these but
national freedom was now at stake. Holland, the bulwark of Protestantism
abroad, seemed to crumble into ruin at the first blow of France. Lewis
passed the Rhine on the twelfth of June, and overran three of the States
without opposition. It was only by skill and desperate courage that the
Dutch ships under De Ruyter held the English fleet under the Duke of
York at bay in an obstinate battle off the coast of Suffolk. Till almost
the eve of the struggle, in fact, the Dutch had been wrapt in a false
security. The French alliance had been their traditional policy since
the days of Henry the Fourth, and it was especially dear to the great
merchant class which had mounted to power on the fall of the House of
Orange. John de Witt, the leader of this party, though he had been
forced to conclude the Triple Alliance by the previous advance of Lewis
to the Rhine, had expressly refused to join England in an attack on
France, and still clung blindly to her friendship. His trust only broke
down when the glare of the French watch-fires was seen from the walls of
Amsterdam.

[Sidenote: The Prince of Orange.]

For the moment Holland lay crushed at the feet of Lewis, but the
arrogant demands of the conqueror roused again the stubborn courage
which had wrested victory from Alva and worn out the pride of Philip
the Second. De Witt was murdered in a popular tumult, and his fall
called William, the Prince of Orange, to the head of the Republic. The
new Stadtholder had hardly reached manhood; but he had no sooner taken
the lead in public affairs than his great qualities made themselves
felt. His earlier life had schooled him in a wonderful self-control. He
had been left fatherless and all but friendless in childhood; he had
been bred among men who regarded his very existence as a danger to the
State; his words had been watched, his looks noted, his friends
jealously withdrawn. In such an atmosphere the boy grew up silent, wary,
self-contained, grave in temper, cold in demeanour, blunt and even
repulsive in address. He was weak and sickly from his cradle, and
manhood brought with it an asthma and consumption which shook his frame
with a constant cough; his face was sullen and bloodless, and scored
with deep lines which told of ceaseless pain. But beneath this cold and
sickly presence lay a fiery and commanding temper, an immovable courage,
and a poli