nefit, impossible crowns for his own wearing, were the motives which
impelled, him, and the prizes which he sought. His existence was
feverish, fitful, and passionate. "Tranquil amid the raging billows,"
according to his favorite device, the father of his country waved aside
the diadem which for him had neither charms nor meaning. Their characters
were as contrasted as their persons. The curled-darling of chivalry
seemed a youth at thirty-one. Spare of figure, plain in apparel,
benignant, but haggard of countenance, with temples bared by anxiety as
much as by his helmet, earnest, almost devout in manner, in his own
words, "Calvus et Calvinists," William of Orange was an old man at
forty-three.

Perhaps there was as much good faith on the part of Don John, when he
arrived in Luxemburg, as could be expected of a man coming directly from
the cabinet of Philip. The King had secretly instructed him to conciliate
the provinces, but to concede nothing, for the Governor was only a new
incarnation of the insane paradox that benignity and the system of
Charles the Fifth were one. He was directed to restore the government, to
its state during the imperial epoch. Seventeen provinces, in two of which
the population were all dissenters, in all of which the principle of
mutual toleration had just been accepted by Catholics and Protestants,
were now to be brought back to the condition according to which all
Protestants were beheaded, burned, or buried alive. So that the
Inquisition, the absolute authority of the monarch, and the exclusive
worship of the Roman Church were preserved intact, the King professed
himself desirous of "extinguishing the fires of rebellion, and of saving
the people from the last desperation." With these slight exceptions,
Philip was willing to be very benignant. "More than this," said he,
"cannot and ought not be conceded." To these brief but pregnant
instructions was added a morsel of advice, personal in its nature, but
very characteristic of the writer. Don John was recommended to take great
care of his soul, and also to be very cautious in the management of his
amours.

Thus counselled and secretly directed, the new Captain-General had been
dismissed to the unhappy Netherlands. The position, however, was
necessarily false. The man who was renowned for martial exploits, and
notoriously devoured by ambition, could hardly inspire deep confidence in
the pacific dispositions of the government. The crusader of Gr