against William,
who may be safely pronounced one of the wisest and best men that
history has held up as examples to the species.

The authority of one author has been produced to prove that,
during the lifetime of his brother Louis, offers were made to
him by France of the sovereignty of the northern provinces, on
condition of the southern being joined to the French crown. That
he ever accepted those offers is without proof; that he never
acted on them is certain. But he might have been justified in
purchasing freedom for those states which had so well earned
it, at the price even of a qualified independence under another
power, to the exclusion of those which had never heartily struggled
against Spain. The best evidence, however, of William's real views
is to be found in the Capitulation, as it is called; that is to
say, the act which was on the point of being executed between him
and the states, when a base fanatic, instigated by a bloody tyrant,
put a period to his splendid career. This capitulation exists at
full length, but was never formally executed. Its conditions
are founded on the same principles, and conceived in nearly the
same terms, as those accepted by the duke of Anjou; and the whole
compact is one of the most thoroughly liberal that history has
on record. The prince repaired to Delft for the ceremony of his
inauguration, the price of his long labors; but there, instead
of anticipated dignity, he met the sudden stroke of death.

On the 10th of July, as he left his dining-room, and while he
placed his foot on the first step of the great stair leading to
the upper apartments of his house, a man named Balthazar Gerard
(who, like the former assassin, waited for him at the moment of
convivial relaxation), discharged a pistol at his body. Three
balls entered it. He fell into the arms of an attendant, and
cried out faintly, in the French language, "God pity me! I am
sadly wounded--God have mercy on my soul, and on this unfortunate
nation!" His sister, the countess of Swartzenberg, who now hastened
to his side, asked him in German if he did not recommend his
soul to God? He answered, "Yes," in the same language, but with
a feeble voice. He was carried into the dining-room, where he
immediately expired. His sister closed his eyes; his wife, too,
was on the spot--Louisa, daughter of the illustrious Coligny,
and widow of the gallant count of Teligny, both of whom were also
murdered almost in her sight, in the