troops in a condition of open mutiny, cut off from the ocean, deprived of
daily bread, and yet obliged to contribute out of its poverty to the
maintenance of the Spanish soldiers, who were there for its destruction.
Its burghers, compelled to furnish four hundred thousand florins, as the
price of their capitulation, and at least six hundred thousand more for
the repairs of the dykes, the destruction of which, too long deferred,
had only spread desolation over the country without saving the city, and
over and above all forced to rebuild, at their own expense, that fatal
citadel, by which their liberty and lives were to be perpetually
endangered, might now regret at leisure that they had not been as
stedfast during their siege as had been the heroic inhabitants of Leyden
in their time of trial, twelve years before. Obedient Antwerp was, in
truth, most forlorn. But there was one consolation for her and for
Philip, one bright spot in the else universal gloom. The ecclesiastics
assured Parma, that, notwithstanding the frightful diminution in the
population of the city, they had confessed and absolved more persons that
Easter than they had ever done since the commencement of the revolt.
Great was Philip's joy in consequence. "You cannot imagine my
satisfaction," he wrote, "at the news you give me concerning last
Easter."

With a ruined country, starving and mutinous troops, a bankrupt
exchequer, and a desperate and pauper population, Alexander Farnese was
not unwilling to gain time by simulated negotiations for peace. It was
strange, however, that so sagacious a monarch as the Queen of England
should suppose it for her interest to grant at that moment the very delay
which was deemed most desirable by her antagonist.

Yet it was not wounded affection alone, nor insulted pride, nor startled
parsimony, that had carried the fury of the Queen to such a height on the
occasion of Leicester's elevation to absolute government. It was still
more, because the step was thought likely to interfere with the progress
of those negotiations into which the Queen had allowed herself to be
drawn.

A certain Grafigni--a Genoese merchant residing much in London and in
Antwerp, a meddling, intrusive, and irresponsible kind of individual,
whose occupation was gone with the cessation of Flemish trade--had
recently made his appearance as a volunteer diplomatist. The principal
reason for accepting or rather for winking at his services, seemed to be