en punished of justice was to be admitted. Such
were the principal features in the organization of that infant navy
which, in course of this and the following centuries, was to achieve so
many triumphs, and to which a powerful and adventurous mercantile marine
had already led the way. "Of their ships," said Cardinal Bentivoglio,
"the Hollanders make houses, of their houses schools. Here they are born,
here educated, here they learn their profession. Their sailors, flying
from one pale to the other, practising their art wherever the sun
displays itself to mortals, become so skilful that they can scarcely be
equalled, certainly not surpassed; by any nation in the civilized world."

The Prince, however, on his return from France, had never been in so
forlorn a condition. "Orange is plainly perishing," said one of the
friends of the cause. Not only had he no funds to organize new levies,
but he was daily exposed to the most clamorously-urged claims, growing
out of the army which he had been recently obliged to disband. It had
been originally reported in the Netherlands that he had fallen in the
battle of Moncontour. "If he have really been taken off," wrote Viglius,
hardly daring to credit the great news, "we shall all of us have less
cause to tremble." After his actual return, however, lean and beggared,
with neither money nor credit, a mere threatening shadow without
substance or power, he seemed to justify the sarcasm of Granvelle. "Vana
sine viribus ira," quoted the Cardinal, and of a verity it seemed that
not a man was likely to stir in Germany in his behalf, now that so deep a
gloom had descended upon his cause. The obscure and the oppressed
throughout the provinces and Germany still freely contributed out of
their weakness and their poverty, and taxed themselves beyond their means
to assist enterprizes for the relief of the Netherlands. The great ones
of the earth, however, those on whom the Prince had relied; those to whom
he had given his heart; dukes, princes, and electors, in this fatal
change of his fortunes fell away like water.

Still his spirit was unbroken. His letters showed a perfect appreciation
of his situation, and of that to which his country was reduced; but they
never exhibited a trace of weakness or despair. A modest, but lofty
courage; a pious, but unaffected resignation, breathed through--every
document, public or private, which fell from his pen during this epoch.
He wrote to his brother John tha