er
loved and had scarcely tolerated, departed, not to return any more,
save by proxy of fire and sword, and cruel soldiery, and more cruel
generals--the pitiless Parmas and Alvas--and departing, he embraced the
other noblemen with such cold warmth as was native to him, but
upbraided Orange bitterly for the action of the States, and when Orange
replied the action was not his, but the States-General, Philip, beside
himself with rage, cried, "Not the States, but you! you! you!" Thus
King Philip passed into Spain, and the Prince of Orange into the second
era of his life.

Macaulay has written the life of William III with such warmth, glow,
fullness, and art as to have rendered other biographies superfluous.
The history of William III was the history of England during his reign.
He was England at its best. William the Silent was the Netherlands at
their best. Motley has written "The Rise of the Dutch Republic," and
in so doing has written a glowing narrative of the origin of the
Netherland Republic; and has besides, in the same breath, given a
biography of William the Silent. What nobler eulogy could be
pronounced than to say a man's life was his country's history during
his lifetime? Motley's thrilling narrative is the worthiest life of
William written. Read Motley, and the last greatest word shall have
been told you regarding this hero of the sixteenth century. In
Prescott's "Philip the Second" may be found an incomplete
characterization of the prince, without the unfavorable attitude toward
Philip or the laudatory view of William presented in Motley. These two
American historians have approached their theme with such ampleness of
scholastic research and elaborate access to and use of the
correspondence of Margaret, Parma, Alva, Granvelle, Don John of
Austria, William, and Philip, as practically to exhaust the sources of
information on this tragic reign, at the same time shutting off much of
possibility from the future historian. William has at last, in Motley,
found a biographer for whom any illustrious character might be
thankful. So elaborate and complete were these researches that Miss
Putnam, in her "William the Silent," has scarcely developed a single
new fact, and has in all cases conceded the thoroughness and
sufficiency of Motley's investigations. The present writer's apology
for attempting what has been done so incomparably well is, that he
feels an essay of moderate length, which, because of its brev