the utmost limits of concession; he gradually elicited what to them was secondary, what was sine qua non. He then, very positively and almost bluntly, laid down his own ultimatum—and it was always the same thing, just as he had told Bonte, Leoninus, Kequesens, Don John, and Parma. His terms were, identification of his own interest with that of the States, withdrawal of the Spanish soldiery, freedom of worship for all, and solid guarantees. These granted, he was willing himself to quit the Netherlands for ever, and live at peace in Nassau. His policy was subtle, hardly straightforward (if such a word exists in the lexicon of diplomacy), and it was the cause of prodigious waste of patience, paper, and oratory. But to William it was a means of exhausting every conceivable chance; it gained him time and opened to him secrets; and in final result it manifested his own indomitable consistency and constancy.
It is the more instructive and interesting because it is only in recent years that research has discovered at Simancas, in Spanish despatches and translations, the secret negotiations which the Duke of Terranova held with the Prince on behalf of the King. The Duke was quite as much convinced as were Requesens, Granvelle, or Don John, that everything depended on the Prince. He was authorised to offer Orange the release of his eldest son, de Buren, from Spain, the restoration to him of all the honours and estates of his house, and 400,000 ducats to discharge debts—the sole condition was that the Prince should quit the Netherlands.
William allowed these terms to be discussed, and sent Brunjoick, his secretary, to Cologne as his plenipotentiary. The commissioners, ducal and episcopal,
