ed by the reflection
that the King was probably on the same side with himself. Alva still
spoke of him, to be sure, both in public and private, with approbation;
taking occasion to commend him frequently, in his private letters, as a
servant upright and zealous, as a living register, without whose
universal knowledge of things and persons he should hardly know which way
to turn. The President, however, was growing weary of his own sycophancy.
He begged his friend Joachim to take his part, if his Excellency should
write unfavorably about his conduct to the King. He seemed to have
changed his views of the man concerning whose "prudence and gentleness"
he could once turn so many fine periods. He even expressed some anxiety
lest doubts should begin to be entertained as to the perfect clemency of
the King's character. "Here is so much confiscation and bloodshed going
on," said he, "that some taint of cruelty or avarice may chance to
bespatter the robe of his Majesty." He also confessed that he had
occasionally read in history of greater benignity than was now exercised
against the poor Netherlanders. Had the learned Frisian arrived at these
humane conclusions at a somewhat earlier day, it might perhaps have been
better for himself and for his fatherland. Had he served his country as
faithfully as he had served Time, and Philip, and Alva, his lands would
not have been so broad, nor his dignities so numerous, but he would not
have been obliged, in his old age; to exclaim, with whimsical petulance,
that "the faithful servant is always a perpetual ass."

It was now certain that an act of amnesty was in contemplation by the
King. Viglius had furnished several plans, which, however, had been so
much disfigured by the numerous exceptions suggested by Alva, that the
President could scarce recognize his work. Granvelle, too, had frequently
urged the pardon on the attention of Philip. The Cardinal was too astute
not to perceive that the time had arrived when a continued severity could
only defeat its own work. He felt that the country could not be rendered
more abject, the spirit of patriotism more apparently extinct. A show of
clemency, which would now cost nothing, and would mean nothing, might be
more effective than this profuse and wanton bloodshed.

He saw plainly that the brutality of Alva had already overshot the mark.
Too politic, however, openly to reprove so powerful a functionary, he
continued to speak of him and of his adm